Wulf's Collected Story Hour -- FINAL UPDATE 12/25

[Wulf Ratbane]

THE HEART OF NIGHTFANG SPIRE (Part V)

Wherefore is light given to him that is in misery,
and life unto the bitter in soul;
Why is light given to a man whose way is hid,
and whom God hath hedged in?

Wulf charged in through the cloud of red vapor that hovered where his friend had stood only moments before. He took one look at the scaly, fire-breathing golem and left Taranak hanging at his belt, opting instead for his hand axe and the odd bone-handled dagger. He put his weight behind the dagger, and with every thrust christened it with a new name-- fleshrend or bonesplit-- anything to keep his mind off of Halma.

Even after they'd dropped all three golems, nobody said a word-- they just ignored the unidentifiable pile of pulp in the corner. Most of them moved off, feigning interest in a door at the end of the hall, while Wulf recovered what he could-- an amulet, some boots, the wings... The chain shirt that Wulf himself had made for the boy shortly after their first adventure. Wulf stooped. Always respected yer for stickin' to yer father's sword. More than I can say. He wrapped his hand around the hilt of the sword. I'll bury this in Gulthias' black heart for yer.

The sword cracked in two as Wulf lifted it. Shattered-- just like Halma. If this was another of the gods' attempts at irony, Wulf wasn't laughing. Well, to hell with 'em-- he'd just have to repair it. He put the pieces in his pack and caught up with the rest of the group.

Quickly satisfying himself that the door was free of traps, Wulf pressed his ear against it.

"Come in already, let me out of here."

Wulf blinked. Unexpected, that.

They opened the door and looked into the room. There was a large magic circle on the floor, and a vrock demon was trapped inside.

"At last! Free me, mortals!"

Keldas spoke first. "Uhh... no?"

Wulf stepped forward. "Who are yer, and what are yer doin' here?"

The vrock rolled its eyes-- as if it would willingly give up its name.

Wulf shrugged. "Suit yerself. Cuckoo it is then."

"Cuckoo!? The cuckoo was a weak fool! Burn his bones and blast his soul! I'm no Cuckoo, mortal!" The vrock cackled loudly-- yes, that sort of demonic laughter that might concern a group who hadn't previously Dismissed one vrock and dismembered another within the span of six seconds.

"Not to put too fine a point on it, Cuckoo, but yer fecked. Tell us what yer know, and I'll do my best to convince these fellows not to rip yer a new one." Wulf diplomatically jerked his thick brown thumb over his shoulder. Keldas, Dorn, and the paladin were already whispering together. He could hear weapons being loosed and readied.

"I'm not making any deals with demons," Keldas warned. Taking his cue, the paladin nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

"Well now, just hold on a second. Yer have to figure he's been here a while, knows his way around..."

The vrock started to get the picture. "Yes, yes! I am a servant of Gulthias, trapped and forgotten! What do you want to know? Anything!"

Keldas locked eyes with it. "For starters, this: If we kill you, how long before you can return to this plane?"

Dorn spoke up, trying to be helpful. "I think it's like a thousand years and a day, or something like that. We'll be long gone by then."

"Yes! That's right! Ask me something else-- or free me now!"

Satisfied, Wulf pressed him for information-- details about Gulthias, the tower, everything. Unfortunately, as the demon's experience was limited to the magic circle, and he hadn't seen Gulthias in years, the most interesting tidbit was this revelation: They would need to find several pieces of a broken key in order to penetrate to the heart of the spire. Still, it was something, and it was clear the demon had no love for Gulthias-- trapped in a circle and forgotten for centuries.

"Well, he's held up his end of the bargain, let's send him home."

"Yes! Home! Freeeeeeeee meeeeeeee!"

Keldas grinned. "Oh, he'll be going home all right..." He was readying a Bolt of Conjuring to blast the vrock.

Wulf held up his hands in protest. "I don't see the harm in lettin' him go. Yer want to kill him, yer on yer own..." Wulf stepped aside.

"See you in a thousand years, demon." Keldas loosed his magical bolt.

As soon as the bolt crossed the circle, the demon was free-- unharmed, unfazed, receding off across the astral and back, no doubt, to the Abyss. His thanks-- and his mocking laughter-- echoed for several moments.

"Nice work. At least yer pissed him off before he left."

------------------------------------------

They moved down another flight of stairs, deeper into the tower. As Wulf led the way, he couldn't help but notice Dorn stumping along beside him, filling the place where Halma used to be-- though of course without casting the usual lanky shadows across Wulf's path. Wulf was desperately looking around for someone in the group to attach himself to. Certainly not Dorn, the priest; nor the ass-mar paladin-- that was laughable. And while he certainly found Keldas and Alliane trustworthy and for the most part useful, it wasn't as if they'd be baking elven cookies together anytime soon.

After all, it was only on Halma's insistence that they clean out this vampires' nest that Wulf had been willing to continue.

At last they entered a small room, empty except for a huge iron lid that was clamped down over a pit. Dorn automatically moved over to the pit and started fiddling with the latches.

"Ahhh... what yer got in mind there, priest?"

Dorn didn't even look up, and kept his chubby fingers scrabbling at the locks. "You know. Open the pit. See what's inside."

"Ach... right. Right." Wulf blinked. "Look, see, I'm havin' trouble thinking of so much as one possible reason that we would want to open up a sealed pit in the middle of a vampire's tower."

"You know. Treasure?"

"Right. So, ahh, the lid is clamped down to keep the treasure from walking away?"

"Look, this is what adventurers do, okay? We pull the levers marked 'Do Not Pull,' we open the doors that say 'Do Not Enter'..."

"Right, right. We smash the statues, we whizz on the altars..." Wulf wasn't convinced, but that didn't stop Dorn.

"Exactly. And we absolutely postively open this sealed pit right here and peek inside right now."

As Dorn pried open the last latch, Wulf set Taranak ablaze in his hand, and was deeply gratified when a huge, bloated, hungry Gibbering Mouther came lashing out of the pit, grappled Dorn, heaved him into the air, and began draining his blood at an alarming rate.

------------------------------------------

They moved on, finding the rest of the level mostly abandoned. It seemed as if they'd finally driven off the shadows for good, and they continued towards the outer edge of the tower in search of the next stairway down. They found a set of double doors that led into a wide hallway, which in turn opened up into a huge room nearly half the width of the tower. Two doors led off from either side of the room-- just behind a huge column of magical fire that was roaring in a pit at the center of the room.

Several hands prodded Wulf forward from behind. "Go on. Scout."

Wulf really missed the halfling.

Wulf approached the column of fire with Taranak ready in one hand, though he had no idea what good a blazing axe would do him against a column of fire. This really wasn't his forte. Big blazing pillar of fire, you'd think that had Wizard or Priest written all over it. Wulf dug around in his pack with his free hand until he fished out another bottle of holy water.

I'll smash the statues, I'll whizz on the altars, and gods help me, I'll bloody well chuck holy water into mystical pillars of... evil? (the paladin nodded) ...right, into pillars of evil fire. It made a certain kind of sense. He unstoppered the flask and pitched it into the blazing pit.

Given their experience with the sealed pit, he wasn't exactly surprised when the column roared to life, sending two huge tendrils of fire into the room to smash him. Thinking he was up against a fire elemental of colossal size, Wulf dropped Taranak to the ground and quickly drew his two most powerful weapons: his old handaxe and his new ghost-touch dagger. He put everything he could behind his blows, and he wasn't even scratching the thing. He was not happy to see Keldas spells' washing off the thing like water off a duck's back, and he was even less pleased when the thing sprouted new tendrils-- enough to give everybody present a good smack across the chops.

Within a couple of rounds they'd ascertained that:
(a) their spells were useless (even Dismissal)
(b) their weapons were useless (even Dorn's holy axe), and
(c) they would all be dead if they didn't flee (even Wulf-- especially Wulf).

Wulf sounded the retreat, and for once they heeded him. They got the hell out of there as fast as their legs could carry them. The creature flailed at them a couple more times as they fled, but miraculously, they all escaped. The elemental seemed consigned to the pit, and its tendrils seemed to have reached their limit.

Wulf was actually grateful not to have Halma along for that one. Damn fool would have charged in head-first and consigned us all to fighting it out to save him.

When Wulf caught up with the elves, Keldas was already transforming into an umber hulk. "We'll just go through some walls and go around. Avoid that thing entirely. There's no way I'm facing that thing again."

Wulf shuffled his feet. "Ahh... Well, heal me up, cause I have to go back."

"Look, this is no time for heroics. Are you that eager to join Halma?"

"Not at all. It's just..."

"What?"

"Taranak is still lying on the ground in there."

 

[Wulf Ratbane]

THE HEART OF NIGHTFANG SPIRE (Part VI)

They long for death, but it cometh not;
and dig for it more than for hid treasures;
And rejoice exceedingly, and are glad,
when they can find the grave.

The paladin caught wind of their conversation and hurried to Wulf's side, eager to be helpful. "Don't worry, I'll get it for you."

Before Wulf could satisfy himself with images of the assmar dashing into the room, only to be roasted in fiery tendrils, the paladin had activated his magic helm. He disappeared in a flash, and just as quickly, he returned, axe in hand. He was only mildly scorched. All things considered, it was incredibly anticlimactic.

Wulf sniffed. "Easy enough for yer."

The paladin beamed. "Of course!"

"Good..." Wulf snatched up Taranak. "Then yer won't be expectin' my undyin' gratitude."

The paladin opened his mouth to speak but was drowned out by the sound of Keldas' steel-tipped talons digging through the rock walls. Sure enough, they found a passage beyond the elemental, linking two identical rooms on opposite sides of the tower. Wulf's map and Keldas' digging revealed that there were two large sections of tower where hidden rooms could lie. After the first section turned out to be a large solid section of stone, Wulf did some quick math and surmised that they were supporting the combined weight of all the floors above them. There were no hidden rooms-- there was nothing but solid, load-bearing rock. He barely stopped Keldas before the eager mage had tunneled through the second support.

That left them with only two very obvious options: in each of the two rooms remaining there was a large open pit, a shaft that descended farther than Wulf's eyes could see. Wulf took a listen-- and couldn't help but catch a whiff at the same time. There were gorillons down there. Lots of them.

Wulf gave voice to what they were all thinking. "We're not up for this, not without Halma. Let's go back and see the Old Man, stock up with supplies."

Keldas and Karak grabbed Wulf, Dorn, and Alliane, and together they teleported home.

-------------------------

Wulf's first duty was to stop in for a chat with the Old Man. Once again, he was looking for some clerical supplies: holy water, potions of healing, some minor wands. And most importantly, he was looking for a discount.

He fixed the Old Man with a stare. "Now, I know yer got to pay for all this tackle somehow... So I'll cover yer expenses and throw a little in the collection plate to make it worth yer while. How much of a discount are we talkin'? Fifty? Fifty seems about right."

"How about... zero?"

"What!?"

"Are you trying to tell me that holy water isn't worth the money you pay for it? Or healing potions?"

"Wha... wha..." Wulf was red-faced and blustering. "What the hell do yer think I'm doing here? I cleaned out your damned Forge, now I'm off fightin' ancient bloody vampires, layin' our lives on the line... The least yer can do is give us a discount..."

"What, are you destitute or something?"

"What about the thirteen ferkin' thousand gold pieces I gave you? Ferkin' peck spends his share on armor and weapons and other goodies, and I look like an ass for handing all mine over to a blasted priest! Did yer forget about that? Cause it's time for a little payback and so far I haven't seen sh..."

"Look around. We're bringing dwarves back into these halls and rebuilding. These halls... this Forge... could be great again..."

"What good does that do me?"

"Well, you'd be one of the Lords of the Hall, of course..."

Wulf stopped. He blinked. The Old Man had said, "One of the Lords of the Hall" but Wulf had heard, "King Under the Mountain."

"Oh. Oh, yes..."

Wulf turned and walked out without another word. He was already trying to figure out how he could parlay his experience in brow-beating his companions into the necessary skills to command an entire kingdom.

-------------------------

Wulf stopped briefly to chat with Keldas, who was perverting some of Wulf's dwarven kinsman with his unmanly elven magic. "What'cher workin' on?"

"The usual. A few utility scrolls."

"Make us a teleport scroll."

"I don't need a scroll for that, I can just memorize it."

"Aye, but I'd rather yer memorized summat more usef... ach, to hell with it. Not like yer got anything more useful, anyway."

"No, no, nevermind. I'll humor you this time." Keldas signalled to one of his dwarven apprentices to start gathering the necessary materials.

-------------------------

The Old Man had been sorry to hear about Halma, but he assured the group that the boy had gone to his just rewards, and in any case, there was little time for grieving. He introduced them to two acquaintances of his: Loyal Vanderbrand, an elven archer; and Shorty Tumpytoes, a halfling sorceror. Wulf looked down in disgust, as if he'd stepped in something, while the halfling tugged repeatedly on his cloak, eager to introduce himself.

Wulf looked him up and down (mostly down), leaving the halfling with the unsettling impression that he wasn't so much a companion as a mannequin on which someone had thoughtfully hung a few magic items for the dwarf to pluck.

"Nice ring yer got there."

The halfling beamed. "Yes, it's a Ring of Invisibility."

Wulf had been affecting an air of disinterest in their new companions, but he nearly jumped out of his skin with excitement. "Is that so? Better hope yer don't accidentally drop dead within arms reach of me, then, cause I could really make murder with one of those..."

"Ahh... err... It's actually a Ring of Wizardry. See?" The halfling worked the ring on and off his finger a few times. "Nothing to see here... or not see... ahh..."

"And what is it yer do, exactly?"

"Big, flashy spells that hurt bad people... basically."

Wulf grinned. "I like this one." He turned to the elf. "And...?"

Loyal was incredibly stoic for an elf, a man of few words. "Arcane archer."

Wulf grabbed Shorty in one hand and the paladin in the other. "Let's see how this works out, then. Fire up that helm, assmar!"

-------------------------

They returned to the tower, directly back to the room with the large shaft heading down. They checked out both shafts, one on each side of the tower, sniffing, listening, and trying to pierce the darkness below.

Wulf pointed to the shaft before them. "I think this one's got less gorilla traffic. Any objections to going this way? No? Right."

They dropped a sunrod to the bottom of the shaft. It was a long way to the bottom, and they only had about 100 feet of rope-- not enough to make it all the way. Despite the fact that it was a good 20 or 30 feet from the floor to where the bottom of the rope would hang, Dorn insisted that they leave the rope tied to the shaft, "as an escape route."

"I can't fly up this shaft," he reasoned. "It's too small for the wings. Without the rope, we're trapped."

"If yer can't climb, and yer can't fly, yer not even going to be able to reach the rope. And we're not leavin' it hangin' for somebody to discover." He quickly added, "Or boobytrap."

Reluctantly, eventually, they all made it to the bottom of the shaft, where a large pile of bones, dung, and other offal awaited them. But otherwise, no gorillons.

They followed the long hall as it wound its way under the tower. Wulf knew they were well under the surface of the ground at this point, but he wasn't any more at ease. He was still smarting from the chute-traps, and he was taking no chances. So they couldn't dump him out the side of the tower? Fine. But he was having horrible nightmares of being dumped into a steam fissure or volcanic vent. He still had Dorn holding onto his little leash.

Eventually the path ended and a huge cavern opened up before them. The floor ended at the edge of a large pit. A small shelf jutted out from the wall. It was possible to inch your way along that ledge and cross the cavern. But Wulf wasn't about to volunteer.

He got down and leaned over the edge of the pit. His darkvision picked up lots of moving shapes. Zombies. More than he could count.

We could have probably dropped Halma down there and he could have cut his way through the whole bloody bunch.

But again, Wulf wasn't about to volunteer. Eventually, the silence behind him forced the issue.

Wulf turned to Dorn. "Well, give me the wings. Be ready."

Shorty cast Levitate, and Keldas cast Fly.

There was a tall pillar of rock about two-thirds of the way across the cavern, and on the pillar was a large statue of a dragon. Wulf kept a lookout while they shuttled the entire party across the cavern to the ledge on the other side. When everyone was in position, Wulf flew over to take a closer look at the statue.

There was something in its mouth.

Wulf had merely begun to think about searching the statue for the inevitable trap, when his senses alerted him to danger. He ducked behind the statue just as a huge fireball exploded around him. He was unscathed, but angry.

"What? The traps here can read minds, now?" Wulf shook his fist. "That's the only way you'll be faster than me!"

While Wulf railed at the heavens, the rest of the party was pointing down a side corridor that they'd overlooked. A large gang of mohrg was shuffling towards them, and something near the back had hurled the fireball. Wulf was the only one who had a chance of spotting it in the dark. He raced forwards as another fireball went whistling past him to explode near the ledge where the rest of the party was huddled. Dorn and Alliane were injured, but poor Shorty took the brunt of the blast. Hovering there in mid-air, he was an obvious target, and a sitting duck.

The little sorceror wanted desperately to return a little heat their way, but he knew he'd be dead if he took another blast. He quickly retreated, landing on the ledge and running around a bend in the wall to huddle next to the two clerics. He needed healing, badly.

Wulf and the paladin moved forward together to flush out the enemy. They could see a mohrg at the back of the pack, pulling tiny beads off its necklace and hurling them at the party.

So!

Keldas had sprinted forward to get away from the rest of the party and present a less tempting target; and unfortunately for the mohrg, it worked. He dropped an Evard's Black Tentacles right onto the ledge where the mohrg were forming into a fighting wedge. The vicious tentacles lashed out, entangling almost every mohrg in the pack. One mohrg dodged the first tentacle, but as it shuffled forward to escape the area of effect, tentacle after tentacle lashed at its back, eventually bringing it down.

There was a method to its madness. Otherwise occupied, the tentacles could not react in time to stop the mohrg "leader," who shuffled forward with its Necklace of Fireballs. Now it could see the entire group, including Shorty, Dorn, and Alliane around the bend. They'd patched up the halfling but now it was Alliane who was in danger.

Wulf and Karak swooped down on the mohrg leader; Wulf charging in, Karak readying himself to strike should the mohrg attempt to throw another bead of fire. The creature grasped one of its remaining beads, and as the paladin drew back his weapon to disrupt the missile, the mohrg grinned and crushed the bead against its chest.

Against the remaining beads on the necklace. Yer clever little prick, yer.

The blast spread out in a huge fireball. Wulf bobbed and weaved behind Karak, who weathered the blast only through the good graces of the gods.

Their foes dispatched (or at least, still being beaten senseless by the black tentacles) they patched themselves up and turned their attention to the statue once again. Wulf could clearly see a jagged piece of metal resting in the mouth of the statue. It looked like another piece of the sundered key to Gulthias' inner sanctum. Wulf didn't even bother to take a second look.

"Trap."

They all looked at him expectantly.

"If yer waitin' for me to disarm it, yer out of luck. It's magical."

They continued to stare.

Wulf sighed and made a snatch for the key, but he was stopped by a horrific jolt of electricity. Certainly not fatal. He could probably take another jolt... unless of course the first one was just a warm-up.

"Ach, right. I'm done. Get it yerself."

Karak sailed over to the spire and hovered in front of the statue. "Well, if it's electricity we're dealing with, I think I can resist it a little better..."

"Aye, don't let us mere mortals stand in yer way, assmar."

Karak snatched the key, taking his own jolt in the process. If he was better able to resist the electricity, it didn't show-- but, he did come away with the key fragment.

They moved on through the tunnels-- skipping the tunnel where the mohrg had emerged, as it would be full of raging tentacles for hours. Instead they headed the opposite direction, coming at last to a large hallway. The hallway continued around a corner, but off to the south there were two double doors.

Wulf waved the group along. "Let's not open any doors or leave any unsecured..."

Keldas was already standing before the doors, and before Wulf could stop him, Keldas gave them a push. They opened easily and silently. Keldas gestured inside at the swirling mists. "See? Nothing to worry about. Now we can move on."

Wulf muttered to himself. "...bitch."

Around the corner they went until the hallway stopped at another door. Pressing his ear against it, Wulf could hear the low grunting of gorillons. He motioned the party back around the corner, where they prepped for battle.

Gathering once more at the door, Wulf kicked it open, and the party let fly with everything they had. Wulf held the middle of the doorway, with the paladin on one side and Dorn on the other. Shorty and Loyal stood just behind them, lending ranged support to the attack, while Keldas kept them all juiced up with his various transmutations.

They struck hard and fast, but even so, it was rough going, and when the gorillons finally fled, slamming the door behind them, the party was in no shape to pursue. They had to stop for a few moments-- a few precious moments while their offensive spells wore off-- and heal up.

As quickly as possible, they moved on, stopping in front of the door for more timely spells. The door opened into another good-sized room, about 20' x 30'-- but it was abandoned. There was another door on the opposite side. Moving cautiously forward, wasting more precious time, they booted the next door. Again, an empty room.

They knew they couldn't afford to dawdle, so they hustled across. They had barely formed up in front of the next door when it was yanked open and the gorillons came at them. Though he fancied himself a front line fighter, the paladin was quickly rended near to death, and retreated to the back of the room to touch himself in his special way. Standing in the center of the doorway, Wulf saw the gorillons angling to attack Dorn, their huge arms clawing past him to get at the priest. Acting instinctively, Wulf grabbed Dorn and shoved him aside, switching places with him just in time to bear the brunt of the attack.

Unfortunately, by switching places with him, Dorn was left in the center of the doorway, without the cover he'd enjoyed from the doorjamb. In a flash, he too was shredded and dropped to the floor.

Now standing alone in the doorway, Wulf took a step to the side to block their approach, and shouted to Keldas. "Bring it! Bring it all, don't worry about me!"

Keldas stepped up just behind Wulf. At the last second, Wulf dodged aside, bending nearly backwards so that Keldas could let forth a belch of acid onto their enemies. It had worked wonders before, on the wolves, but the gorillons were just too tough-- and now, they were pissed. Wulf widened his stance and gripped his weapons. "Yer want him, yer got to come through me!"

One of the gorillons stepped up toe to toe with Wulf-- and simply reached OVER him. Keldas was grabbed in both hands and literally torn in half like an old scroll.

"Godammit!"

Wulf could hear Loyal and Shorty's plaintive cries behind him... "We're going to die!" and "Not like this!" and most peculiarly, "Not again!"

Wulf grabbed Dorn's bleeding body in one hand and the largest chunk of Keldas in the other, backpedalling as fast as he could. He gradually became aware of Karak shouting in his ear. "What are we going to do?"

Wulf shoved Dorn into Karak's arms and pointed at Alliane and Loyal-- two slender elves. "Take them home-- NOW!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," shouted Shorty, who realized he'd been selected to stay behind. "Are you sure?"

The paladin hesitated only a moment, then activated his helm and they were gone.

The gorillons were advancing on them, but Wulf paid them no heed, instead rummaging through Keldas' corpse. Shorty stood nearby, wondering if he was somehow expected to hold off the advancing gorillons while Wulf looted his fallen comrade. Shorty closed his eyes and felt the gorillon looming over him, its hot breath on his face. He opened an eye for one last peek.

He was face to face with Wulf, red-faced and shouting, holding Keldas bloody corpse on his hip and pressing a scroll into Shorty's hands.

"REEEEEEAAAAAAAD!"

And in a wink, they were teleported home to safety.

-------------------------

It's been said by other, more poetic writers, that the effects of Resurrection leave one in a state of heavenly bliss, in the happy afterglow of the soul's effortless flight to the outer realms. In fact it's said that oftentimes, the soul is so overcome with joy that it chooses not to return to the land of the living.

But there was none of that for Keldas; no questions of whether he was coming back or not, none of that mincing about "with his feet not quite touching the ground." (Well, no more than usual, anyway.)

Instead, as the Old Man finished ressurrecting him (for the second time, mind you) he bolted up, straight as a rod. "It is ass-kicking time." He trotted over to the pile of his belongings and began suiting up. He looked around at the others. "You coming or not?"

-------------------------

Fully rested and prepared with a slew of ass-kicking goodness, they prepped themselves with spells and returned. Wulf was enjoying the benefits of Improved Invisibility once again, which pretty much ensured that he would mulch anything foolish enough to come within arms' reach. He paid little attention to the preparations that the others enjoyed, salivating as he was at the prospect of slaughter.

They worked their way back to the gorillon nest, find only empty rooms, until they came at last to a door they had not managed to breach on their last assault. Wulf took a wide stance in the center of the door and smashed it open with a steel-soled boot.

Before he could come to grips with a single opponent, spells were flying past him into the room. Shorty's lightning blasted through the doorway (with no concern for Wulf), as was the case with Keldas' acid belch.

But the topper was from Dorn, who'd apparently decided to focus on Haela's War aspect for the day, instead of Luck. He conjured up a spinning maelstrom of blades and dropped it right into the center of the gorillon lair-- their men, their women, their children and elders.

Never before had they unleashed so much devastation across so many foes at one time.

The gorillon "chieftain" led out a wailing cry. "Evil surface-dwellers return to murder us!"

Wulf was slightly angry that he couldn't get through the bladestorm to attack his foes, but even so, he couldn't help grinning.

"Look out, boys! They're unleashing their secret weapons: doubt and guilt! Oooh!"

He laughed as the blades whirled, and chunky, charred, oozy, ozone-scented bits of gorilla splattered the walls. A large group of gorillon younglings fled down a wide passage at the end of their lair. Dorn dropped his concentration and the bladestorm vanished.

Wulf was off like a shot, chasing down the survivors. It was butchery, but it was glorious-- just like the old days, hunting goblins back in his clan's tunnels. His axe rose and fell invisibly, relentlessly, keeping time to the sound of his comrades finishing off the wounded gorillon adults. Unburdened by conscience, Wulf stalked among the scattered, frightened young, slaughtering them to the last.

 

[Wulf Ratbane]

THE HEART OF NIGHTFANG SPIRE (Finale)

THE HEART OF NIGHTFANG SPIRE (Part VII, FINALE)

The small and great are there;
and the servant is free from his master.
There the wicked cease from troubling;
and the weary be at rest.

The group wanted to move off immediately to the mist-shrouded doorway, but a quick check of the map showed that they'd missed a few rooms. At any rate, as Keldas pointed out, they didn't yet have all the pieces to the key.

Sure enough, they found a secret door that led to a set of unexplored rooms. Cautious as ever, they opened the door onto a large room, with a high ceiling, an altar at one end, and mysterious runes covering the checkerboard floor.

Wulf pointed to the runes. "Trap, no doubt. Can yer read 'em from here?"

Keldas shook his head. "Not really. Appears to be draconic, but I can't quite make it out. I could cast Fly and hover out over them; see them better from above and not risk stepping on them."

Wulf didn't like the thought of using Keldas' spell so early. "Hmph. Shorty's got a Ring of Levitation, let's just have him do it." Wulf looked expectantly at the halfling, who in turn looked to Loyal. Loyal nodded.

"Well, ok." The halfling rubbed his hands together and floated out over the inscription. "Yep, it's draconic, all right. Let's see... Oh! A riddle! I like riddles!"

The halfling read aloud to them, a long-winded piece touting the glory of the mighty dragon Ashardalon, but buried inside was a couplet that even Wulf had heard before: "The poor have it, and the rich need it..."

"Pfft. That's easy." The halfling said, "Nothing!"

Immediately a crackling ray of light sizzled out of the altar and into Shorty's chest, striking him dead instantly. He dropped to the floor with a tiny, sickly thud.

"HOLY CRAP!" The entire party jumped back a step or two.

Wulf was the first to speak. "Ooh, sorry about your cohort, Loyal... Ahh... Ach, right, assmar-- evil altar. You're the next logical choice."

The paladin protested only briefly, but the truth of the matter was that he was best equipped to ward off evil spells. He unfurled his Wings of Flying and soared into the room.

Keldas shouted from the doorway. "Don't read the runes!"

Unfortunately, despite his near-godlike wisdom, the paladin couldn't help but look down. He, too, read the riddle, and there was a tension in the air as if something waited for his answer.

"Don't say 'Nothing!'," Keldas shouted.

Wulf nodded. "Right! Don't say nuthin'!"

The paladin said nothing.

Apparently, that too was the wrong answer. The sizzling ray of light struck the paladin, but as they'd hoped, he fought off its full effect. Even so, though he did not die, the ray drained a significant portion of his life force. His comrades could see him withering from across the room.

Alliane shoved her way to the front. "Lay hands upon the altar, Korak! Channel your divine energy!"

"Use your mojo, assmar!" Wulf shouted.

The paladin swooped down and laid his hands flat upon the altar, channeling all his divine energy into the stone. The altar buckled, cracked, and exploded.

There was polite applause from the back of the room. "Didn't know I could do that," Korak admitted. "Good to know..."

With the altar destroyed, they moved into the room. Wulf prodded the halfling's corpse with his toe and called Loyal over. "Get what yer need, elf, I'll come back and carry the body for yer." The elven archer stooped over his fallen comrade to recover anything of use.

Wulf rubbed his hands together and peered through the archway off to the left of the altar. He could barely make out the shape of yet another sarcophagus. "Right. Next room. Dorn, assmar, come on."

Wulf moved cautiously to the sarcophagus and searched it carefully before pronouncing it safe to open. He ignited Taranak and stood at the head of the sarcophagus, motioning Dorn to its feet, and Korak to the side, so that he could push the heavy stone lid aside. "On three... three!"

The paladin pushed aside the lid, and immediately a thick brown smoke spilled into the room. The cloud spread fast, filling their room almost instantly and even moving out into the nearby room with the altar.

Wulf, Dorn, and Korak held their breath and the cloud passed. Alliane and Keldas covered their faces. Loyal coughed once, politely, looking only a little paler for having inhaled a good dose of the gas.

"That wasn't so bad. Anything inside?" Wulf started fishing out a vial of holy water to consecrate the coffin while Dorn prodded around inside, recovering a few gems and other trinkets.

"Not much of a take, really. I suppose that's why the trap wasn't particularly nas..."

There was a hideous shriek and a gurgling sound from the next room. Loyal was standing over Shorty, while half his insides bubbled up from his mouth and the other half went sliding down his pants leg. Loyal toppled over onto Shorty in a pile of multi-colored goo that, curiously enough, matched the classic elven palette of greens, yellows, and browns he usually wore.

Wulf smacked himself in the forehead. "Goddamn onset time! One minute! Yer could set yer clock by it! And I just sat there an' let it happen!"

Dorn and Alliane felt equally responsible. "Really should have occurred to me, too," said Alliane, "though I didn't have any magic prepared to deal with it in any case."

Dorn spread his hands. "Don't look at me, I'm just here for War support, really. Who knew the secondary effects would be so grim?"

Keldas was unrolling his scroll of Teleport. "Let's call it a day."

-----

They returned to the old man, and sensing that the end was near, they fully prepared themselves for an encounter with Gulthias.

Karak informed them that he had to pay a visit to the head of his order, and without saying another word, teleported himself off to the temple of Tyr.

Wulf conferred with Keldas. "First, another Teleport scroll. And I recommend some kind of permanent Protection from Evil for me. Last person yer want dominated and under control of a vampire is me." And as an added perk, it'll keep summoned critters off my arse, but there's no sense mentioning that or everyone'll want one.

When it was all said and done, they'd stayed only a few days. Dorn had prepared a few useful scrolls, while Keldas and Alliane had made two magic helms of Protection from Evil, one for Wulf, and one that went, at least temporarily, to Loyal.

After another painful ressurrection, Loyal and Shorty had come to a bit of an understanding-- with Shorty angrily swearing he wouldn't follow Loyal's orders into death anymore, and Loyal consequently swearing to protect Shorty's life with his own, for a change.

The paladin returned after a couple of days but was curiously tight-lipped about the encounter with his superiors.

"Rip yer a new one, did they?"

-----

They returned to Gulthias' tower stronghold, moving systematically through more rooms, with more sarcophagi and more traps, from falling blocks to contact poisons to clouds of poison gas. They were, without a doubt, among the nastiest traps Wulf had ever seen, and despite his normally flippant attitude about poisoni, he took every precaution when opening the traps. He and Dorn alone would enter each new room, armed with rope, block and tackle, to remove the stone lid of each new sarcophagus.

They had only one tense moment, when a cloud of poison gas spread so far and so fast that the rest of the group, even in the next room, was in danger. Shorty coughed and sputtered, and the group sprang into action-- removing cloaks, amulets, rings, whatever was at hand, and casting Guidance and Resistance as fast as they could. Moments later, from beneath a pile of magical protections, they finally heard Shorty sputter, "It's ok, I'm alright!"

Their path was blocked only once more, by a group of gorillons led by a pair of hags. Dorn's whirling blades of divine wrath made short work of the gorillons, but the hags were unaffected. A lone gorillon managed to crawl his way to safety at the edge of the blade-storm, but Wulf dropped him with a couple of nasty slashes with his bone-handled dagger. The hags seemed to recognize the dagger, or perhaps the murderous look in Wulf's eye as they feebly lobbed Magic Missiles at him; or perhaps it was his bellowing cry to, "...slit the belly of the next bitch-hag to come within arms' reach!"

Whatever the cause, they turned invisible and fled the scene.

Dorn ceased concentration on his blades so that the rest of the group could enter the room. He was approaching Wulf, who was scouting out a curious alcove that jutted out into the room, when Wulf abruptly disappeared from view.

Korak had seen it, too, and though his mind didn't work quite as quickly, he gathered what had happened soon enough: Without hesitation, Dorn had followed in Wulf's footsteps and jumped into the alcove. Whatever fate was to befall Wulf, he was once again ready to share it. As Dorn disappeared, the paladin made up his mind and was the next to follow.

Keldas hesitated a moment or two longer than one might expect-- a fact not lost on Wulf, who waited on the "other side" of the teleport in a small 10x10 closet. He was hastily grabbing his comrades and shoving them off the "entry point" as quickly as they appeared. He didn't want to imagine what would happen to someone who was standing there when another body materialized inside.

Eventually they were all gathered together into a single small room. "Ain't this cozy. Wait here."

Wulf opened the door and scouted the hallway where they had arrived. It was all new territory to them, a wide, winding hallway full of lots of small "closets" and empty rooms. They cleared them one by one, eventually terminating in a large room with over a dozen sarcophagi. It was a familiar scene, including the part where countless shadows melted out of the walls, leeching away Wulf's life force until he was nearly dead, only to be blasted back by Holy Smite from the clerics and the holy symbol of the paladin.

They found the last piece of the key in the mouth of a dragon statue that came alive to attack them. Though it took an incredible amount of punishment while flanked by Korak and Wulf-- including one of the rare but ferocious flame bursts from Taranak-- the dragonnette did very little damage in return. The party was more concerned by the hags, who showed up at the opportune moment to harass them with magic from down the hall. Shorty and Keldas threw spells back in return, but were unable to pierce their magic resistance. Once again, as soon as the warriors arrived to support the spellcasters, the hags thought better of the situation, and fled invisibly.

-----

Now, at last, they had all the pieces of the key. Keldas cleverly put each of the twisted metal pieces together-- they formed into a single dragon-shaped key. Their explorations had mapped out every last cranny of the tower catacombs-- everything except the misty alcove where the keyhole was found.

They approached the alcove. As no one stepped forward to explore the mists, Loyal pulled a critter out of their Bag of Tricks. A wolverine answered the call and seemed none too happy when Loyal gestured into the alcove. It held its head and its tail low and loped into the mists. After a moment, it returned.

"So far, so good. Let's try the key." Wulf held out his hand for the key and Keldas willingly handed it over. After satisfying himself that there were no traps, Wulf inserted the key into the keyhole and cranked it around. The mists cleared a little bit and they could see to the other side of the alcove, not more than ten feet away, where a hallway stretched off beyond. The alcove was essentially like a little cubicle in the middle of a long hallway. Wulf checked their map. It seemed legitimate. Wulf tossed one of his stakes through, and it landed-- quite naturally although under the circumstances, quite unexpectedly-- on the other side.

Wulf was still expecting something unpleasant. He looked at the wolverine again. "Fetch."

The wolverine sighed and rolled its eyes, walked through the alcove, grabbed the stick, and returned. Nothing happened.

They were expecting Gulthias, not an empty cubicle. On a whim, Wulf ducked his head into the alcove and looked up.

And there it was.

Glaring down at him from some sixty feet up was a single point of light, as red as molten lava, like a baleful, unblinking eye. The ceiling was some forty feet across at the top, tapering down to ten feet to the alcove at the bottom, so it looked like an inverted alchemist's flask-- or perhaps a funnel. Wulf blinked to clear away the brief image of lava pouring down onto them all through that funnel.

Wulf grabbed Shorty and pointed up at the light. "Use yer ring... Go check that out."

Shorty pulled away. "I don't think so."

"Oh for the love of... Criminy, one bad day and yer go all gun shy on me. Fine. Give me yer ring, and I'll go."

Keldas interceded. "I'll go." In fact, he'd already cast the spell he needed. Assuming Ghost Form, he drifted up towards the glowing light.

The rest of the party made ready. Alliane cast Magic Circle, Wulf downed a potion of Spider Climbing, Shorty floated up slowly behind Keldas, Karak flew up beside him, Loyal nocked an arrow and focused his aim on the pinpoint of light, and Dorn grumbled about not being able to fly.

Keldas had nearly reached the ceiling and Shorty was not far behind. They could see that the pinpoint of light was a small hole in the middle of an iron port-hole cover set in the ceiling.

Wulf crouched nearby on the wall. "Put yer eye up to it, Shorty, take a peek."

The halfling ignored Wulf, focusing his attention instead on Keldas' ethereal form, which had drifted over to the edge of the ceiling. Keldas paused only a moment before poking his head through the ceiling-- or, as it were, through the floor of the chamber above them.

Gulthias was ready for them. A ray of light struck Keldas, and he recognized it as a Finger of Death as he fought off its effects. He wasn't dead, but he wasn't happy, and he retreated as fast as his Ghost Form would allow.

As he descended, Keldas gave a quick account of what he had seen, including a roll-call of Gulthias' last defenders.

"Big room, throne, crystal ball, hag, wight, 4 white gorillons, 4 shadows, 6 vampire spawn, 8 spectres, Gulthias, and a huge beating heart twenty feet across!"

Keldas had moved down just above the group on the floor and just below his comrades floating, flying, or clinging to the chamber above. When he was in position, he cast Mass Haste.

None too soon, as the shadows soon appeared around Shorty, attacking him viciously, draining his strength. Shorty fell back towards Wulf and the shadows pursued him. The voices of his comrades rung in his ears, advising him what to do, until finally the halfling shouted, "Enough!" He threw caution to the wind, started casting despite the fact that he was surrounded by enemies, and let fly with a Burning Hands spell. Before Wulf could even reflect on how the Halma-like the halfling's behavior was, the first fan of fire was followed by another. Three of the four shadows were vaporized, and Wulf reached forward from his perch on the wall to hack apart the last one.

Keldas pulled a scroll from his things and cast Spider Climb on Dorn, who moved up the wall to join Wulf, ready with his holy axe should the spectres decide to appear. Wulf pointed up at the iron port-hole cover. "As soon as that thing's out of the way, be handy with something warlike."

Shorty, his strength severely drained, had shrugged off all the extra gear he could spare, but his nerve held. "I got it." A thin ray flashed from Shorty's hand and struck the iron cover. "Look out below!" The iron plate was Reduced to a fraction of its former size, and it came tumbling out of its moorings.

Wulf and Dorn had their eyes locked on the hole in the ceiling though they were both more concerned with spectres coming at them through the very walls. As they looked on, a hag poked her head over the hole, silhouetted by the bright red glow from the room beyond. Loyal let fly with an arrow-- specially enchanted by Dorn's Greater Magic Weapon spell. Where the hag had previously ignored Loyal's arrows, this time was different. She fell back howling from the hole.

But her purpose, apparently, was served, as the next one to appear at the hole was none other than Gulthias himself. He cackled with glee and detonated a burst of Dispel Magic amidst the heroes. Almost without exception, their Haste spells withered away. Gulthias, of course, suffered no such fate: His own Haste spell was still in effect, and he followed up his first spell with a massive Fireball in downtown party central.

As usual, Wulf's reflexes took over, and he avoided the entire blast. He couldn't ignore the cries of his allies, however-- particularly Shorty's plaintive wail. Though the halfling had dodged most of the blast, it had still nearly killed him. The frail sorceror looked over at Dorn (who'd taken the full brunt of the blast, and still looked none the worse for wear) and cried out, "Why am I even here?" Shorty started to slowly levitate himself out of the area.

Keldas was eager to sling spells against Gulthias, and countered with a targeted Dispel Magic of his own to drop the vampire's preparations. As he began casting, the second hag appeared, clutching the wall across from Wulf. Her invisible form materialized as she attacked.

"Fool!" she cried. "I've been waiting for that!" And with that, she loosed a horrendous volley of Magic Missiles into Keldas to disrupt his spellcasting.

Keldas winked and tapped the brooch at his neck. The hag's missiles struck the brooch and melted away harmlessly as Keldas completed his spell.

Just beneath the port-hole, Karak watched as Gulthias' form shimmered under the Dispel Magic. Not waiting to ponder what magic defenses had held and which had not, Karak flew up to the hole, and...

Perhaps we should mention here what Karak had been up to, while the party was preparing in the Forge, and he was off visiting his superiors at the temple of Tyr. Karak had beseeched the head of his order to prepare for him a magic scroll, inscribed with a secret paladin's ritual known as Sacred Journey. Although the price was steep-- and Wulf didn't want to think about where the paladin was coming up with that kind of petty cash-- there could be no doubt that the scroll was worth every copper.

For the Sacred Journey, although it apparently could manifest in many different ways, had this profound effect upon the aasimar:

It essentially doubled the amount of divine energy he could channel through his hands.

Thus, when Karak soared up to the hole in the ceiling, reached his hand through, touched Gulthias' ankle, and channeled every ounce of positive energy he could muster, the entire audience in attendance, heroes and evil foes alike, were rather surprised by the outcome.

Gulthias exploded into a million motes of dust, his magic rings and amulets tinkling down through the hole like candy from an overstuffed pinata.

Without the protection of Gulthias, the clean-up was elementary. Some two dozen of the startled onlookers wouldn't live to witness another such event.

-----

The party gathered up in the chamber above, where they could see up close the enormous beating heart that hung suspended on chains above their head.

"Well, there's an eye opener, and no mistake!" Shorty was still a little punch-drunk from the fireball. "You want me to blast it?"

"I don't have a stake big enough for that." It was probably twenty feet across.

Shorty spoke up. "I bet that's Gulthias' coffin."

Wulf looked to Keldas. "Ashardalon's heart, yer think? Probably not wise to muck with it."

Keldas shrugged. "We'll see." And with that, he turned his face towards the ceiling and belched forth a cone of acid. The chains gave way and what was left of the heart came crashing to the floor. The outer layers of the heart were eaten away, and they could see into the interior-- a four chambered heart. Sure enough, Gulthias' ghostly form rested in one of the chambers, as snugly if it were a sarcophagus.

"See yer." Wulf doused Gulthias' resting place with holy water. There was a loud, lingering shriek, then silence. The aura of evil seemed to have finally left Nightfang Spire.

The party dove into the heart, searching for the final payoff. Dorn was already circling around Gulthias' crystal ball, admiring it from all sides. Keldas and Shorty had cast Detect Magic and were amiably dividing up Gulthias' wizardly accoutrements, including a powerful Ring of Protection. There were several other magic items, plenty of gold and gems, but nothing that Wulf really wanted. For the most part, he stood aside disinterestedly and let his comrades pick through the loot.

Suddenly, something caught his eye. Wulf caught his breath between his teeth and stepped forward.

He reached into the gory heart and pulled out a beautiful, bloody gold crown-- fit for a king.

"Mine."

 

[Wulf Ratbane]

THE HEART OF NIGHTFANG SPIRE -- Epilogue

Wulf sat in the small, spartan room he'd secured for himself at the Forge, turning the crown over and over in his hands. It was obviously worth a small fortune-- he pegged it at about five-thousand gold pieces, not bad for a single bit o' flash. No doubt he could head down the mountain into the nearby town and trade it for something a little more worthwhile. Maybe use it as a downpayment on that Ring of Blinking he'd had his eye on for so long.

Wulf leaned over the small table beside his bed where the letter still lay, the stark dwarven runes criss-crossing the page like battle scars and worry-lines. He smiled, playing over the words in his head, instinctively filling in the familiar dialect:

"We're comin', cousin-- heard the news of yer fortunes, good an' bad. Rounded up a few o' the lads, a likely bunch, an' Bala Saka to boot. Aye, that one's lookin' forward to crossin' blades with yer again, though yer might be surprised to hear he's given up his blades fer a stout length of oak. If tales be true o' yer flamin' axe, keep it well away from him-- got a bit of a thing fer fire these days, he has..."

The few coins he'd spread among the bards back in town had paid off, it seemed.

"... though he's as bloodthirsty as ever yer were, yerself. Had any luck with that forge? Seem to recall yer were a fair hand with the hammer. Never ye mind, some clansmiths on the way, an' yer can keep to what yer do best. Cleanin' house."

Truth be told, since coming back from Nightfang Spire, Wulf had spent most of his time in the forge. With very little else to occupy his time, pounding out his frustrations on the anvil was the closest he'd get to battle. Just to pass the time, he'd been working on a custom buckler. Oh, it was a masterwork, all right-- but it hadn't proved itself to be particularly nasty, nor even as wieldy as he'd intended. He held out hope that one of the bloody elves could enchant the damn thing. Just in case, he'd spread a little gold amongst the apprentices. Somebody would figure it out and finish it off.

"Heard summat about yer wastin' yer money on temples an' priests. Yer goin' soft, or yer just take one too many knocks in the head? Gonna have to hope it's the latter-- otherwise yer due for one more knock when I see yer meself."

Oh, aye? Wulf told himself he was just hedging his bets. Hoarding money was never his style-- spread it around where it would do some good. Pay the apprentices, pay the local thieves' guild, even pay the bards for a song or two. But above all, pay the priests and keep the gods happy. That's all there was to it, and that's a fact.

Of course, he had to admit he'd spent a fair bit of time with Dorn, who was always on about the blessings of Haela Brightaxe; and way too much time with the Old Man, who, if he was any more a direct representative of the All-Father, was seriously due for a good one across the chops. Wulf didn't care much for Haela or Moradin, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being called all the same.

Wulf's hand had unconsciously curled into a tight fist, and it took him some time to unknot his fingers and pick up the letter. His eyes hastily scanned the remaining text.

"Yer father, not surprisin', doesn't send his love. Seems a fair bit surprised to hear tales o' heroism an' insists the tale must be gettin' stretched in the tellin'. Don't half believe it meself-- have to get the real story out when I see yer, soon enough.

Till then, may yer beard be bathed in bloody battle,

yer cousin,

Naïl Ashfist

Wulf stood and tossed the crown onto his hard bed. It hit the thick quilt with the slightest metallic ringing-- the muted sound of a dagger being drawn out of a boot. It was sweet, that sound, and he smiled for a moment, before dark thoughts got the better of him.

Will you smile so when you're too old to draw steel and your daggers cease their singing? Will it ring as sweetly in your ears when crown falls from weary brow to soft blankets?

"Blast me to hell an' back! Been spendin' too much time with goddamn bards!"

Wulf stomped out of his room, scooping up Taranak from beside the door.

Time to talk to the Old Man about the next fool's errand.

 

[Wulf Ratbane]

DEEP HORIZON Part I

The Old Man had barely opened the door to his study before Wulf pushed his way in. Keldas, Dorn, and Shorty swept in behind him, cramping the already small cloister even further. Wulf paced like a caged animal.

"I'm goin' crazy here. Yer got anything else needs killin'?"

"Well, while you lot were off playing with vampires, we have had a few problems of our own. From what you mentioned about the drow that escaped from here when you first assaulted the Forge, we gathered that there were more tunnels below. We've been working to clear them, making slow progress, until recently. An earthquake of some kind opened up a wide highway into the underdeeps."

"Yer send some patrols?"

"Naturally. We sent a sizable patrol of dwarves, though only two survivors returned. They encountered a sizeable force of lizardmen, trolls-- even a beholder-- but managed to bring back this scroll and map."

Keldas could see the drow writing slithering across the surface of the letter, and took hold of it like it was a dead fish. "Orders for the trolls to report to the drow city, Chael Rendaar."

Wulf thumped his finger down on the map. "There's the city, but these here runes say the whole city was wiped out."

Keldas frowned at Wulf. "What's tough enough to take out an entire city of drow?"

"Present company excluded?"

Dorn nodded. "Aye! What are we waiting for?"

The Old Man nodded. "Given that we've suffered more earthquakes since then, at lessening intervals, there's certainly something going on down there, and the sooner you put a stop to it, the better."

"We'll make our preparations and head out as soon as possible," said Keldas. "I still have a few items to craft to aid us on our way."

Shorty didn't look as confident, whispering to Dorn as they headed out. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

*****

Once they were prepared, they headed down into the underdark behind a small force of dwarves, including the two survivors from the last patrol. Eventually the dwarves reached their limit. They pointed off down the wide tunnel into the darkness. "This is as far as we go, but the city is just ahead, a few miles at most. May the blessin's of Moradin go with you!"

Wulf scowled. "Like I need that right now. Damn well keep his eyes off me... the less attention I get the better." Still, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. Already he was aglow with the thought of skewering a drow or three from behind. He waited until the patrol had moved out of sight before turning to the group. "Yer ready or what?"

"Well," said Keldas. "You're the scout. Get scouting." He feebly waved his hand forward in a dismissive gesture.

Wulf saluted and skipped ahead with mock-halfling glee. "Keep about a hunn'erd feet back, right?"

Wulf led them forward a mile or so, ever downward, keeping his eyes and ears sharp, before finally sensing that something was wrong. High above him, voices muttered in Undercommon. The group was moving through a narrow cleft about 20 feet wide, but higher than they could see. Wulf waited for the group to rejoin him then pointed upwards, indicating that he'd check it out. He crept forward into the passage and spread wide his Wings of Flying.

Wulf rose slowly through the cavern, twenty feet, forty feet, eighty feet before he could see the ledge above him. The walls pulled away from the main cavern on both sides, leaving a shelf on either side. Wulf guessed the drow would be waiting there. He prepared for one mighty flap of wings that would propel him up and over the ledge, but before he could act, the enemy struck.

It wasn't drow.

In fact wasn't anything Wulf had ever seen or heard of before. It was a group of large, bat-like humanoids. They walked upright on short legs, their bodies were covered in thick fur, and their arms were crooked, but strong. Vestigal wing-flaps ran down the underside of their arms. Wulf had only a moment to take it all in before they began shooting at him with huge, wicked bows. Whatever they were, they had the sense to craft mighty bows, and they were powerful-- and accurate. Wulf took a couple of arrows before his instincts kicked into high gear. He shouted the alarm and launched a salvo of daggers at the nearest creature.

The group on the ground moved into action. Shorty levitated just above Loyal, who strained his eyes up into the darkness to pick out a target. Karak unfurled his own wings and launched himself onto the western ledge, opposite Wulf-- where four more of the creatures waited. If Karak hadn't moved so quickly, Wulf would have found himself in an extremely unpleasant crossfire.

By the dim glow of the paladin's sword, Loyal could now spot a target. He enchanted an arrow with Light before letting it fly. Now the rest of the group could see their targets and it wasn't long before Shorty and Dorn were bringing down spellfire on the ledge. It was, perhaps, too little too late. All four of the creatures turned towards the paladin and let out a host of sonic shrieks that nearly tore him apart. He staggered to his knees and called upon divine healing before rising once again to do battle.

Keldas' earring of darkvision served him well. He cast haste and fly and zipped up to where he could see the group on the eastern ledge where Wulf was battling. Keldas was the first to notice that one of the creatures was bound up in the corner. So, they fight amongst their own kind? They must be civilized, then. Keldas summoned an enormous celestial lion directly onto the ledge. Wulf took advantage of the opportunity to close his wings and step lightly onto the ledge, in perfect flanking position. Taranak burst into flame as he hacked into the bat creature's unprotected flanks.

Before long Wulf and the lion had ripped down two of the four creatures on the shelf. Wulf pointed across the chasm to the shelf on the other side, where the paladin was having no luck trying to hold his own against the bat-creatures. "Keldas! I got these! Have him leap across to help the assmar!" Wulf gestured to the bound creature that struggled next to the lion. "Yer move, yer dead!" Wulf turned to face the two opponents remaining on the east side.

The mighty celestial lion-- fifteen feet long and six feet high at the shoulder-- gathered its haunches and prepared to nimbly make the twenty foot leap across the chasm. The lion's mighty jump carried it all of FIVE FEET out into the chasm where it hung for a moment before plummetting the entire 90 feet or so to the ground. Apparently gravity worked a little differently on the prime than it did on Mt. Celestia. If it was possible for a lion to express a look of shock and embarassment, that was it.

Unfortunately Wulf missed it. The bat-creatures weren't remotely out of the fight. They dropped their bows and came at him with huge hooked staffs, not to mention their enormous fangs. They towered over him, their maws full of teeth, and the wounds caused by their vicious bites bled profusely. Worse still, Wulf could tell from their fighting style that they were skilled warriors. They were able to strike him two or three times each, despite his best defenses. Fortunately, with Keldas providing additional firepower, he dropped another of his foes. Wulf was breathing heavily and bleeding profusely, and took a moment to sneak a peek at the western ledge.

Despite the best efforts of Dorn, Shorty, and the paladin, they'd only dropped one. The remaining three bat-creatures had their bows drawn, arrows trained on Wulf. He cursed his charismatic presence and impressive fighting prowess and exchanged a look with Keldas. I'll never survive this. So long.

Three arrows struck home with incredible force, one even striking a vital spot.


DM: Three hits. One crit.
Wulf: This is bad, guys. Real bad.
Dorn: How many hp's you have left?
Wulf: It's bad. Not many. [37]
DM: [roll, roll, roll... roll, roll... adding... adding...] THIRTY SIX!
Wulf: tee hee!


Though literally hanging on by a hair's breadth, Wulf launched himself onto his last opponent with unbridled fury, while Keldas, Dorn, and Shorty unleashed holy hell on the western ledge. Just like that, their enemies were all slain, and the danger, it seemed, was past.

Wulf flew down to Dorn as fast as his wings could carry him. "Heal please!"

Dorn grabbed the Wand of Cure Light Wounds from his belt. Wulf gripped his arm. "No, no. HEAL, please!"

 

[Wulf Ratbane]

DEEP HORIZON Part II

Using the various wands of healing the party had stashed here and there, they were rapidly restored to health. Thanks to Dorn's Heal spell Wulf was the first back on his feet to take stock of the situation. Keldas has discovered a secret door on the western ledge that led into a large cave where the bat-people had evidently made camp. Wulf directed the others to gather the bodies and the captive and retreat to the cave, while he did his best hide the evidence of their struggle.

Keldas had begun to interrogate the prisoner. After a tense moment where it made the mistake of addressing Keldas in undercommon, it switched to common, which it spoke surprisingly well. At least on the surface, the creature seemed happy and grateful to be rescued, though it endured a simultaneous interrogation from Wulf and Keldas-- with Keldas' inquisitive, scholarly questions being impatiently peppered with Wulf's short, staccato questions of a more pragmatic bent.

"What's yer name?"

"Viday."

"By what name is your race known?"

"We are the desmodu."

"Why yer fightin' yer buddies?"

"They caught me unawares. We are of differing factions, with opposed beliefs."

"So they do have a civilization...? What is the nature of these factions?"

"Desmodu are of three castes. Warriors, merchants, explorers. I am an explorer." Viday cupped the symbol that hung on a chain around his neck: three concave discs, arranged together like a clover. Keldas surmised that, to a bat, the symbol's odd shape would reflect sound, giving it a distinct "sonic silhouette."

Wulf retrieved the symbols from the fallen desmodu and passed one out to everyone. "Aye... And these are warriors?" The symbol was like a figure eight lying in the bottom of a bowl.

"Correct."

"And why the disagreement?" Keldas pressed for more information.

"The desmodu are very powerful and the warriors most powerful of all. They believe that we can go to the surface and simply take what we need by force. The merchants would rather trade."

"And what of the explorers?"

"We are peaceful, but we believe that more information is required. It has been many years since we have travelled to the surface."

"Why now?"

"We have made contact with representatives of your people from the surface, led by a human named Rourmed and an elf called Engram. They wish to open up trade with our city."

"Yer got a whole city down here?"

"Just beyond the ruined drow city. I would be happy to take you there, but... the way is dangerous."

"Aye? How's that?"

"There are beholders in the ruins, as well as many desmodu warriors who work with them. They prowl the ruins seeking the buried treasures of the drow."

"How long before more warriors come this way?"

"I do not know; I doubt they will."

"An' that screech thing yer buddies did to the assmar... Yer can do that at will?"

"No. Perhaps once a day."

"Can yer fly?"

"No. We train giant bats to carry us. We have grown too large for wings."

"Ach, well, yer still hit like a bunch of nancies. Where's all yer bats, then?"

"I don't know. I believe this group was part of a patrol brought here by others, and left as a guard post."

"Well, I'm up for a visit to a new civilization and a ruined drow city," said Keldas. "Anybody have a problem with beholders?"

Shorty was the first to raise his hand-- but not the last.

"Great. Let's camp here and rest, recover our spells, and head for Chael Rendaar tomorrow."

--------------------

They were greeted the next morning by a small patrol of surly dwarves. They were led-- against their better judgement, it seemed-- by a huge, brown-skinned human. His fire-scarred features, obviously the result of more than mere forge-fire, were hidden behind a thick black beard to rival that of any dwarf. He was Bala Saka, a foundling raised by dwarves. His kinship to Wulf, in spirit at least, was evident: bandoliers of daggers crisscrossed his chest, javelins sprouted awkwardly from a quiver on his back, and a glaive was draped in a sling over his shoulder. He bristled with weapons but seemed most confident with the iron-shod quarterstaff that supported his stooping frame. From beneath his bronze, wide-brimmed conquistador's helmet, he grunted a greeting to Wulf.

"Where we off to?"

"Drow city full of beholders."

"All right then." Bala Saka jerked his thumb to the dwarf patrol. "You can go."

Loyal stepped forward, his bow unstrung, his eyes downcast. "I'm going back, too. I've had enough."

Shorty said nothing, obviously intending to stay, so Wulf spoke up to break the awkward silence. "Suit yerself." He nodded to the dwarves. "Yer lot can take care of the elf, right?"

And with that, they parted ways.

"Yer got some stones on yer, peck."

--------------------

The party moved on to Chael Rendaar. Somewhat emboldened by Bala Saka's presence, Wulf once again agreed to move out in advance of the group. As the passages turned to open caverns, Wulf knew that they were approaching the city. He waited patiently for the group to join him.

"Gonna head round to the left, through that suspicious lookin' slew o' rubble there. Keep yer eyes open."

Keldas went one step further. He cast Fly on himself and flew up into the cavern, hovering above the group but positioned so that he could see around a huge mound of volcanic rock that loomed in front of them. The rest of the group hid behind a low wall of rock and waited nervously.

Now fully on his guard, Wulf crept forward, but even with his darkvision he didn't see the desmodu coming. Four of them swept out of the darkness on their mounts. Wulf's instincts kicked in and he defended himself as best he could against their lances and the snapping teeth of their giant bats. Three of them stopped to surround him and the fourth circled wide around the volcanic outcropping.

Wulf raised the alarm and the rest of the group scrambled clumsily over the wall to run to his aid. The paladin was the first to join him, and none too soon. Wulf had stood toe-to-toe for several desperate moments and the desmodu were already driving him back towards Dorn. Bala Saka stepped up behind the paladin with his glaive, forcing the desmodu back. Shorty was hasted and levitated behind the wall, firing off snowball swarms as fast as he could call them up. The spell was sized perfectly to catch the enormous desmodu in its blast without endangering any of his friends.

Dorn was still slipping and scrabbling through the rubble when Wulf caught up to him. Dorn sighed and cast Heal once again. The two dwarves supported each other as they turned and dashed through the rubble and back into the fray, screaming their battle cries. Taranak was ablaze and Syrius, Dorn's holy great-axe, was thirsty for righteous slaughter.

Keldas had wasted no time pursuing the fourth desmodu. In short order he'd slain its mount, and the desmodu spilled to the ground. Keldas watched as the bat-creature stooped low to the ground and began running on all fours, back into the ruins, where it no doubt hoped to warn its fellows. With passionless calculation, Keldas summoned a dire bear directly into its path and, his job done, turned to assist the rest of the group.

His help arrived unneeded as Bala Saka, Dorn, Wulf, the paladin, Shorty, and even Viday were more than three desmodu and three giant bats could handle.

Unfortunately, the dire bear had failed in its attempt to bring down the straggler. Heedless of danger, the desmodu turned its back and risked a flat-out run. The bear attempted to crush him and hold him beneath its massive paw, but the desmodu escaped-- severely ravaged, but free nonetheless. The bear was too slow to catch him, though it pursued him nonetheless.

Whatever reinforcements the desmodu had roused, the dire bear did not return.

A light had appeared in the distance of the ruins, and grew steadily as it approached. Dorn, Alliane, and the paladin worked feverishly to repair the party with their wands before more enemies arrived, while the fighters spread out into fighting formation. Wulf stuck close to Bala Saka, Alliane and Dorn not far behind them. Keldas and Karak moved out on their left flank.

No one noticed that Shorty was alone on their right flank, hiding in a pile of rubble.

The first thing to hit them was the anti-magic, and the knowledge of what they would soon face, coming as it did with the sinking feeling as their magic left them, was no consolation. A pair of trolls swaggered around a volcanic chunk and came loping at the party-- too stupid to realize why the group of adventurers seemed to look right through them, utterly unconcerned with their presence. The group was far more interested in winkling out the beholder.

With no spells, no wings, no boots of striding and springing, it was a mad dash. Keldas and the paladin sprinted off to the left, hoping to escape the cone-shaped effect of the beholder's anti-magic. Dorn did much the same-- or attempted to. In less dire circumstances the sight of the stubby dwarf, veritably entombed in his full plate armor, attempting a flat out run across shifting rubble, would almost have been humorous. Wulf and Bala Saka drew their weapons and charged the trolls-- though fully intending to charge past them, consequences be damned, if the opportunity to close with the beholder presented itself. Alliane kept pace with them just to their right, and when the trolls veered off to close with the elf maiden, Wulf had no choice but to draw up short and go to her aid.

Bala Saka sprinted on through the anti-magic cone, like a salmon instinctively running up river to its source.

Then the desmodu struck, swooping out of the sky on their giant bats. Two of them descended on Shorty, who could not hide from their blindsight. The first desmodu struck him as it flew past, and the second buried its lance deep in his chest. The halfling squirmed piteously on the end of the lance, realizing too late that his Amulet of Health had failed him under the anti-magic gaze. Wounds that would ordinarily have been mere scratches opened up into deep gashes; and the most severe of wounds-- the tip of the lance-- turned to a mortal blow. In that brief instant of dread realization, Shorty was deader than dead.

As if on cue, the beholder's bloated form finally loomed into view, wobbling in midair in a most ungainly fashion. Its huge central eye was still fixed down the center of the cavern, but it had erred: It was too close. The arc of its anti-magic cone had narrowed near its source so that the party could-- with a bit of desperate effort-- spread out wide enough to avoid it.

Keldas and Karak ran as fast as they could to the left. As soon as he cleared the anti-magic ray, Karak spoke the celestial command word and unfurled his wings of flying. Half-running, half-hopping, like a wounded albatross, he sailed across the cavern and threw himself flat, face-first behind a pile of rubble.

Keldas, on the other hand, was fearless. His fly spell was still active, and he sailed along above the paladin until he was hovering just a few feet over the rubble. It was no use, he reasoned, to dive for cover. If the beholder couldn't see him, then he couldn't see the beholder-- and he'd need line of sight for what he had in mind.

It seemed Keldas had a whole new bag of tricks.

Eldritch power coruscated up and down the length of Keldas' arm, building like the headwaters of a flood as it flowed to his outstretched hand. A bright green ray burst from his fingertip and lanced towards the beholder, striking it solidly in the side. Keldas smiled. "One disintegrate ray, one less beholder..."

At least, that was how it worked in theory. In reality, the gaseous bulk of the beholder shuddered and shimmied for a brief moment before returning to normal. Three of its smaller eyes telescoped around to face Keldas and the beholder responded in triplicate: disintegrate, flesh to stone, and finger of death.

Not something a frail elven wizard wanted to deal with, even on his best day. Fortunately, Dorn had protected the group with Haela's Touch, and Keldas the elf freely called on the goddess of dwarven luck to save his hide. He'd wisely prepared himself in advance with the best cloaks, rings, and amulets he could craft. It was enough-- barely.

But now his luck was spent. She could poke and prod at the fabric of reality, twisting things a bit in their favor once or twice, but there was only so much that the goddess Haela Brightaxe was willing to do-- for an elf or otherwise.

Dorn was still trying to clamber over the ruined terrain to extract himself from the anti-magic ray. Just as he was about to finally clear the area of effect, the desmodu struck again. Shorty's assailants had returned aloft to join two more warriors, and the newly formed phalanx of aerial cavalry swept down en masse to surround the unlucky priest.

"Well, luck ain't everything..." Dorn unshouldered his huge greataxe and defended himself as best he could. The desmodu struck first with their lances, sending blood fountaining from the gaps in Dorn's armor to splatter into the eager, gaping maws of their mounts, driving them into greater depths of blood-frenzy. Dorn staggered back and realized that the desmodu had arrayed themselves in a wide arc around him to cut him off from the rest of his allies.

Dorn was no coward, but he knew that without magic, and alone, he was no match for the desmodu. He sidestepped out of the anti-magic cone and howled with glee as he felt Syrius ripen to full enchantment-- along with his armor, helm, and other protections-- and most importantly, he noted the return of his persistent divine might. Dorn felt the joy that only a priest can know: the eye of his goddess was upon him.

And then it struck him: Soon enough it would be the beholder's eye upon him once again, and he'd be right back in the crapper. "Ferka-buncha-THIS!"

With one eye on the desmodu and one eye on the beholder, with Syrius in one hand keeping his enemies at arm's length, Dorn concentrated on his free hand-- and on correctly forming the gestures that would complete the spell that he hoped would turn the battle.

"Haela SMITE thee!" Dorn whirled Syrius around to point at the beholder, his great-axe acting as the divine focus to enact the spell. The air crackled and the heavens split, and a column of fire roared down, engulfing the beholder in a booming conflagration of holy whup-ass.

It did not die-- though its pain and anger was clearly written across its... face-like front arc. Its great central eye swept over Dorn, seeking the cause of its misery. Once again, all his strength and protection flew from him like shadows before the dawn, and Dorn turned to greet the pitiless desmodu, his own imminent death reflected in their dark, glittering orbs.

Dorn shouted desperately for help, but those most able to assist with the desmodu-- Wulf and Bala Saka-- were busy trying to hack their way to the beholder.

Finally, Karak was spurred to action. He stood up from behind the rubble, pulled the biggest bead he could find from his necklace of missiles, and flicked it with expert precision towards the beholder. A huge fireball exploded in an airburst behind the creature, and it finally collapsed lifeless to the ground.

As wounded as he was, however, Dorn had little hope of withstanding the desmodu attack. Keldas turned his attention from the beholder to assess Dorn's situation. The little dwarf had backed away from the desmodu somewhat, but from his position at the vanguard of the battlefield it would be impossible for Keldas to use his acid breath without catching Dorn in the blast. (He'd pulled that trick before, against the gorillons in Nightfang Spire, and Dorn had been none too happy about it-- in fact, he still brought it up on a regular basis.) At any rate, a single blast of acid wasn't likely to take down a desmodu warrior.

Now hasted, Keldas flew parallel to Dorn's melee and belched forth a pungent, roiling mass of gastric juices, carefully avoiding Dorn yet thoroughly drenching the desmodu at the back. As expected, it was not enough.

"Why not?" Keldas mused. "What works for the aasimar works for me..."

And with that, Keldas cast a second spell and let fly with a fireball of his own. The noise, the heat, the impact of the blast, filled the air and rebounded from the walls of the cavern. Yet it wasn't for that reason that it was the most attention-grabbing spell Wulf had ever witnessed.

"Yer dirty elven sonofabitch!" Wulf furiously chopped his way through the last of the trolls, dropping them to the ground and leaving Alliane to finish them off with a bit of flame. Gobbets of troll-flesh still sizzled along the length of Taranak's blade as Wulf dashed to Dorn's aid. Bala Saka was right behind him, pitching in against the fire-blasted desmodu, yet all the while trying to figure out why Wulf punctuated every blow with a string of expletives aimed at the elf.

"All this time... all this time... Yer bastard! Holdin' back! Transmuter? HA! Yer can bet yer pansy ass I'll be takin' a good look at yer ferkin' spellbook!"

Alliane stepped quietly between them, holding Shorty's broken body, but the solemnity of the moment was lost on Wulf. He pointed his brown, stubby finger at Keldas.

"NEVER TRUST AN ELF!"

"It's fortunate that the desmodu are as witless as you."

"Huh?"

"It was shadow magic, you dullard. An illusion."

"Oh, aye? Ahh... All right then." Wulf quickly changed the subject. "Oooh... Shorty's looked better..."

Alliane spoke again, hiding her emotions behind her usual matter-of-fact demeanor. "I suggest we retreat to the Forge."

And so it was decided. They returned up the long cavern highway the way they had come. Ere long they were returned safely home, to hand Shorty over to Diessa and the other dwarven acolytes. They would prepare the body for the Old Man to work his miracles.

"None too soon, neither. Little peck was mungin' a bit."

In the meantime, the Old Man was quite interested to speak with Viday, the first desmodu representative to make contact with the dwarves. Viday explained a bit more of their history, which in turn shed additional light on their current situation. The desmodu had allied themselves with salamanders who had come from the Elemental Plane of Fire to establish an outpost in the material realm. It was unclear the extent to which the salamanders were involved, but Chael Rendaar had been destroyed by diverting a flow of lava into their cavern-- the drow were annihilated by the unexpected eruption, and many of the riches of the city were still there, preserved under a shell of volcanic ash.

"That explains the beholders in the city, I reckon. Lookin' for arcane knick-knacks."

"Perhaps," said Viday, "but that alone doesn't explain why the desmodu warriors would ally with the Eye Tyrants. Our warriors are mercenaries, yes, but surely there is something else, something more there to tempt them. Useless arcane objects and mere mercenary's pay do not match the ambitions of our warrior caste."

It would take some time to restore Shorty, but in the meantime the rest of the group was eager to return, and there were preparations to be made. While Keldas checked in with his apprentices and scribed another spell or two, the paladin used his helm again to nip off on one of his holy shopping sprees. Wulf headed down the mountain to the nearby town, and returned with supplies-- lots of supplies.

"Got me an assload of rope, rations, spikes, stakes, caltrops, chalk, holy water, spare slings, lead bullets... yer name it."

"How do you intend to carry all that?"

"Bought me a Heward's Handy Haversack." Wulf patted the new bag over his shoulder. "Nifty little bastard."

Bala Saka spoke grimly and nodded towards the next room where Shorty's corpse lay at rest. "You shoulda bought a Heward's Handy Bodybag."

The group chuckled, though it was a dark humour. The Old Man looked on and frowned.

"True enough. Those beholders are no fun." Wulf pointed at Karak. "Brace yerself, assmar. From now on, yer on 'beholder detail.' Yer got the favor of the gods, and the best shot at resistin' all their unpleasantness. Yer number one priority is just to get up there and take 'em out."

Karak put on a brave face. "Well... All right. I guess that makes sense." He smiled a bit. "I can't do worse than Shorty."

The Old Man pointed a finger at him. "You of all people should not be so callously indifferent to danger... and death. If you die, I am powerless to help."

"Wh... What do you mean?"

"Your soul belongs in Celestia. I cannot ask Moradin to intervene on your behalf."

"Uhhh... What exactly are you saying?"

"Do you know nothing of your kind?" The Old Man sighed. "It is impossible to ressurect an aasimar."

"WHAT!?" Karak reeled in horror.

Wulf and Dorn exchanged a brief glance and burst out laughing.

"Bwahahahahahaha! Oh, that's good!" Dorn laughed bitterly through his beard.

"Not so great slummin' around with us mere mortals now, is it?" Wulf had to lean on Dorn for support, his kness were shaking so hard with laughter. "Poor assmar!"

Wulf looked up and even Keldas was smirking, ever so slightly.

"It's not funny!" shouted the paladin. "You take humor in my misery?"

It was enough to send Wulf into fits again. He pounded his fists together and tears welled up in his eyes. "Ach, stop! Yer too much! Really!"

Wulf finally managed to compose himself. "But just so yer know, this doesn't change things. Yer... heh heh... yer still on 'beholder detail.'

 

[Wulf Ratbane]

DEEP HORIZON Part III

Leaving Shorty behind, the party returned once again to Chael Rendaar. Here and there throughout the dark cavern, lights flickered, belying some foul activity on the part of the eye-kin and their allies. Three areas in particular seemed particularly well-lit, though they were far off in the huge cavern.

Wulf shrugged. "Head for the closest one?"

The group nodded. Wulf looked over at Viday. "Keep yer ears open and let me know if yer see anything."

The party spread out somewhat and moved cautiously towards the light. Wulf stopped a few hundred yards away. They still couldn't see what lay ahead. He dug at his belt, grabbed the bag of tricks, and tossed a leathery, prickly furball onto the ground. In moments it grew to full size: It was a wild boar. It grunted once and waited for Wulf's command.

"Run on up there, check it out, then come back and report." The boar squealed in protest, but trotted off into the darkness nevertheless. Wulf called after it and gave it the thumbs up. "No worries!"

Unfortunately, one brief squeal from far ahead was the only report they received. Keldas frowned at Wulf. "No surprise, there."

"Aye..." Wulf patted the bag of tricks and grinned. It was almost better than fireworks. "Wanna do another?"

"Time for you to scout ahead again, I think."

Wulf grabbed Viday and together they moved forward. As they approached, Viday stopped him with a warning. "Something just flew overhead... Something large."

"Pfft, they already knew we were here. Let's keep goin' an' press our luck."

Eventually they came into the light. A pair of desmodu were guarding a trio of trolls and a pair of kuo-toa. The weather-beaten slaves were chipping away at a mound of volcanic rock. The rest of the group fell in line behind Wulf and Viday, but as they approached, the desmodu spoke up. They spoke undercommon, but Wulf understood them without too much difficulty. "Good timing. These the new slaves? Put them to work so these can rest, then send them over to the other excavation. The eyes are in a hurry."

With a bit of nodding, diplomacy, and skillful bluffing, the party found themselves alone at an excavation dig, with a group of slaves under their control. The trolls and kuo-toa stood around shuffling impatiently, clearly waiting for orders. Wulf could hear Karak whispering in the back of the group: "... not working with evil creatures... put them out of their misery..."

Wulf stepped in to take control. "All right yer lot, take a load off." He pointed to the wall and the slaves gladly slumped to the ground, their backs against the stone. "Whatcha diggin' for, hmm?"

The kuo-toa were either too tired to answer, or the trolls had taken charge of the slave group, which suited Wulf just fine. Kuo-toa could be wily; trolls, on the other hand, were too stupid to be clever. Sure enough, one of the trolls spoke up, "Black metal."

Wulf tried hard to hide his excitement, so he squatted down. He spoke to the troll in a more conspiratorial fashion. "That right? Inside that rock there?" His thumb jerked back over his shoulder and his hand shook nervously.

"Yah. Drow stuff."

Wulf called Dorn over. "Adamantine in the rock. Must be preserved in the lava flow from when the drow were livin' here."

Wulf stood and joined Keldas and Karak. The paladin was still blabbering away. "...see how it serves the greater good to sully ourselves with..."

"Shut up, assmar. Keldas, troll says there's adamantine in the rock. Any way yer can check it out?"

Keldas' eyebrow raised ever so slightly. Obviously, he was as excited as Wulf. "Absolutely." He cast a spell and assumed a wispy ghost form, then disappeared into the rock.

Moments later he appeared again.

"Oh, yes. Several lumps of it, suspended in the lava. It is melted and deformed somewhat, but it looks like it might once have been longswords-- or at least something of similar size."

"Why didn't yer bring any out?"

"Well, I can't pick anything up in ghost form, of course. But I could always polymorph and bring out the umber hulk."

"Yer reckon an umber hulk can dig through volcanic rock?"

Keldas was already changing form, but it was not too late for him to answer smugly, "Pfft... I eat that sh*t for lunch."

For once, Wulf looked truly astounded with Keldas' abilities. "Yer eat sh*t for lunch?"

Keldas flexed his huge claws and dove into the mound of volcanic rock. From inside he could tell that the mound was a drow building of some sort-- although nothing was so well preserved that he could make any sense of what he was seeing. The lava had destroyed everything, but he was able to come up with several good-sized chunks of adamantine, melted lumps that might once have been weapons.

After an hour of searching, Keldas stopped. "How long do you intend me to keep looking?"

Wulf answered abrubtly. "Until you have it all."

"Or until we're found out," cautioned Alliane. Viday nodded. From time to time he gave a start, indicating that something had flown overhead.

Time ticked away, but Wulf was in no hurry. Even after two hours, Keldas kept digging, eventually moving on from one building to another nearby one.

The kuo-toa shifted nervously, muttering together. It didn't help that the paladin continued to glare murderously at them. Wulf stepped in to interecede. "Gogglers dryin' out?" He fished some holy water out of his pack and gave a flask to each. They quickly used the water to refresh their rubbery skin, but it seemed little consolation.

"Yer hungry?" The trolls nodded vigorously. Wulf pulled a furball out of his bag of tricks and tossed it at their feet. There wasn't even enough time to tell what it was before they had ripped it to shreds and devoured it.

After three hours Keldas had exhumed every scrap of adamantine he could find from two building-sized chunks of rock. All told Wulf reckoned they had enough to make about fifteen longswords-- or some other combination. Wulf caressed a single black chunk of the heavy meteoric stone. The market value of it all was probably close to 70,000 gold pieces.

"Well…" he said, "We might as well head off and finish off the beholders. We'll be wantin' to come back down here with a crew o' dwarves and get the rest-- when it's safe."

He had barely finished his thought before the entire group felt that familiar sinking sensation-- their magic items were suddenly nullified. There was a beholder about.

From somewhere above them, a desmodu spoke. "Leave the slaves and the adamantine and you may leave."

Wulf thought fast. Diplomacy. "We'll pay yer for it!" He was really just stalling for time. The group kept moving, spreading out a little bit around a tall wedge of rock. Most of the group moved off to the left, leaving Keldas, Wulf, Viday, and two miserable kuo-toa to hold the right flank. Bala Saka advanced close behind the trolls, intending to use them as cover from any unpleasant death rays that might suddenly lance out of the darkness. Wulf did the same with the kuo-toa.

The desmodu shouted a terse reply. "Seventy-five thousand!"

"Wait a second… how do yer even know how much we're carryin'?" Wulf pressed his advantage. "Come on down and total it up, haggle a bit."

The desmodu seemed flustered. "Leave the slaves, the adamantine, and all your possessions-- and you can leave with your lives!"

"Ach, right. I gather yer new to this hagglin' business." He gripped Taranak and tried to ignite the flames, with no success. He was still inside the anti-magic cone. "Either way, yer want it, yer gonna have to come down and try to take it."

So try they did. Arrows rained out of the darkness, spurring the party to action. True to his duty, the paladin started sprinting straight ahead into the darkness. When he left the anti-magic cone, he'd correct his path and veer right back inside. The range of the beholder's central eye was quite long, but in just a couple of rounds the paladin should reach the terminus.

Bala Saka would have joined him, but he was busy with the three trolls. As Bala Saka staggered under several arrow wounds from the desmodu, the ungrateful slaves turned on him. Filthy claws ripped into him, rending apart armor and flesh with equal ease. Bala Saka staggered back, nearly dead.

"Bastards!" Dorn brandished Syrius and charged to Bala Saka's aid. "Hold fast, there!"

Meanwhile Keldas took off at a flat-out run, trying to escape the anti-magic. Unlike the trolls, the kuo-toa sank to the ground in uncontrollable fear. Wulf wrote them off as harmless and sprinted after Keldas, bellowing, "Can't protect yer if yer outrun me, goddamit!"

Despite Dorn's aid, Bala Saka was fading fast. He drew his glaive and scored several powerful blows against the trolls, then stepped back to let Dorn protect him. The stout dwarf interposed himself between the trolls and Bala Saka, but the foul beasts merely stepped forward and reached over him to strike the human warrior. Fortunately, the dwarf provided some cover, preventing the trolls from getting another rending grip on Bala Saka.

Even so, Bala Saka once again staggered back several feet to escape the grasp of the trolls. Dropping his glaive, his hands moved back and forth over his shoulders in a blur of motion. Dorn realized that, like some sort of crazed circus juggler-- a crazed circus juggler of DEATH!-- Bala Saka had drawn and thrown five javelins in rapid succession. All five javelins struck the troll with frightening precision. The first of the trolls dropped to the ground. Dorn took two swings to hack the legs out from under another one. Two down, one to go.

Alliane had used the distraction of melee to be the first to escape the anti-magic. She'd run almost tangent to the rest of the party, and soon enough she felt the anti-magic fall away. Moving unnoticed from building to building, she sprinted off after the paladin, hoping to give what aid she could.

On the complete opposite side of the cone, Keldas and Wulf also sprinted towards the beholder, scouting out the fringes of the area of effect, shouting back and forth with the paladin and helping to steer everyone to the beholder. Eventually they found it, floating about twenty feet off the cavern floor. The paladin ran straight forward until he squeaked under the arc of the cone, the let fly with the first blast from his necklace of missiles. Alliane was right behind him, throwing caution to the wind to strike it with a searing light.

Bala Saka was about to learn a lesson on the tenacity of trolls. The first fallen troll had regenerated and, though Dorn still stood menacingly over it, the battle-torn troll ignored the dwarf to drag its shredded remains forward to once again claw feebly at the legs of Bala Saka! Cursing loudly, Bala Saka finally fell unconscious, though not before seeing the dwarf drop the last of the trolls. Dorn immediately started scrambling to douse the remains in burning oil.

A hundred feet ahead in the darkness, both Karak and Alliane found themselves unprotected, outside the anti-magic cone. Though she was the easier target, the beholder ignored the elf priestess and fired its three most deadly rays at the paladin. Quite predictably-- though only with a bit of divine luck-- he survived all three. It was folly to try to destroy the paladin with any magic that he could resist.

The beholder's strategy became clear, however, when a desmodu warrior charged out of the sky to strike Alliane solidly with his lance. Keldas and Wulf arrived just in time to see her bravely withstand the first attack. Keldas dropped the beholder with a spell, while Wulf dashed up directly behind the desmodu to flank it.

Seeing their anti-magic benefactor fall, and with an angry wizard and dwarven rogue at their flanks, the desmodu wisely retreated, wheeling off into the darkness to warn their fellows.

They regrouped to count heads and see if they’d lost anybody, but they’d come through unscathed, for the most part. Dorn touched Bala Saka with a heal spell and the rest of the party was restored quickly using their wands. Without further discussion they moved off towards the next beacon of light.

All was quiet as they neared the light and a huge structure took shape from the darkness. It was the largest building they had seen yet, several stories tall, more like a tower, and from top to bottom large portions of it had been unearthed and restored. Judging from the spider sculptures that crawled across the surface of the partially-exposed dome, there was no doubt among any of them that they were looking at a former temple to Llolth. A wide set of stairs led up into the temple.

“This ought to be fun…” Wulf said. He liked his odds inside the limited confines of a building-- at least he wouldn’t have to worry about desmodu dive-bombing him from the darkness. “I’ll go up and check it out.”

Only one thing nagged at him: he wasn’t entirely sure that, even inside, the desmodu wouldn’t “see” him sneaking around. If they sensed things by echolocation, they might even be able to “ping” him around corners and such. “Ferkit… Tired of pussyin’ around. Let’s see what they got.”

Wulf approached the wide steps first, but he kept slightly off to the right hand side so as to avoid the dark gaze of the narrow windows and arrowslits that peppered the face of the edifice. He had no sense that anything was watching him, and the conspicuous absence of his normal paranoia made him, suddenly, all the more paranoid. It was fortunate that he approached from the side, for he was able to spy a low ramp that led into the mound of rock, off to the side of the unearthed steps. Wulf reckoned the side entrance was safer than waltzing up the front steps, so he moved in, taking great care to move slowly and press his body into whatever natural cracks and crevasses he could find. The rest of the party watched from a nearby building as Wulf disappeared into the rock, following the ramp as it sloped slightly upwards.

The ramp curled around and made a left turn, opening onto a wide flat platform that formed the first floor of the temple. Wulf surmised that he’d moved up about as far as the steps would have elevated him, and a quick glance back to his left confirmed his intuition. The great doors of the temple stood open and he could see the steps leading down.

Wulf skulked about at the head of the ramp, not quite ready to risk entering the temple proper. Off to his right, directly across from the steps, were two great double-doors, no doubt leading to the inner sanctum. Not far ahead of the doors, on the “north” end of the room, there was a hole in the ground where a circular staircase cork-screwed into the depths. There were stairs above the hole, too-- of a sort. They led up onto a second floor, but there was little left of them but the scaffolding. Certainly no way to climb them; if you wanted up there, you’d need to fly.

Farther south, moving towards the entry steps, Wulf could see three small, open holes in the floor, each about 5 feet across. Wulf listened carefully from his spot in the shadows, and the sound of running water lured him out to inspect the holes further. Sure enough, there was a short drop through the holes into running water-- about the last thing Wulf had expected to see. He knew well enough to stay away from underground streams-- they never led anywhere pleasant.

Wulf crossed the room and moved into the shadows on the other side. Several windows opened out onto the large first floor platform. Behind the windows Wulf could make out a large cavern-- presumably an unrecovered part of the temple that was only partially dug out of the rock. With the exception of a few small islands of rock, it was completely filled with water. Wulf could hear and feel the water flowing under his feet. It must join up with the water under those holes; and then it’s off to who-knows-where.

Wulf moved to the head of the steps and down them, checking for traps as he descended. He beckoned the party to join him at the bottom of the steps and they entered the temple in force.

Just as they were about to cross the platform into the inner fane, the double doors opened and the welcoming party issued forth. Three mighty desmodu warriors moved around the staircase to intercept them. Behind them, a group of about a dozen kuo-toa, lizardmen, and three more desmodu spread out to guard the double doors. From a beholder as yet unseen, anti-magic washed over the party, and the head warrior spoke.

"Do you return to assault us?" It was clear the desmodu would prefer to parlay.

"Well, no..." Wulf started. "Not necessarily. What yer got in mind?"

"We wish only to retrieve the adamantine from the city."

"I got a better idea. How 'bout yer let my dwarves retrieve the ore? We'll gladly do all the smithin' yer need. Can't do better'n that!"

Keldas tapped Wulf on the shoulder and leaned close to whisper in his ear. "Wulf, they got friggin' salamanders."

Wulf ignored the insult and shooed away the intrusion. "Not now, I'm diplomattin'."

"We can handle it ourselves." The desmodu were calm, confident. Wulf decided to shake things up a bit.

"Well, I got a bit of a problem with yer taking adamantine offa my territory." He hooked one thumb in his belt and pounded the other proudly into his chest. "Not to mention the fact that yer picked yerself the wrong allies. Why yer want to ally yerself with evil trolls, evil beholders, an'..."

Wulf looked over at Keldas and whispered. "Salamanders evil or what?" Keldas shrugged. Dorn shrugged. Finally, Wulf shrugged.

"...an' evil salamanders? Can't trust 'em. But dwarves... Yer can count on dwarves to do yer right."

"The eye tyrants are powerful allies, and even more dangerous as foes, as you well know."

"Pfft. If yer say so..." Out of the corner of his eye, Wulf looked at Dorn and Keldas. They nodded. "Well... ach... right!"

The party sprang into action. Wulf and Keldas were the first to go, and together they dashed into the room, sure that they could escape to the nearby edges of the anti-magic cone. Sure enough, as soon as he cleared the doorway, he veered hard to the right and felt his magic return.

Unfortunately, their enemies were also ready for action. The beholder floated down from the shattered staircase, revealing itself at last. Once again, its three most dangerous rays lanced out. With Haela's Blessing he was able to resist the finger of death, and the flesh to stone, but suddenly all luck was extinguished: the disintegrate completely overpowered him. Motes of dust billowed out as his cloak suddenly collapsed to the ground. The faint tinkling of bells seemed to emanate from under the folded cloth as two rings hit the hard stone floor. That was it. All that had survived was his cloak, and two rings.

Wulf quickly brought himself up short, having wisely decided that he was better off in the anti-magic after all. The beholder floated behind the desmodu, and Wulf-- having no desire to go toe to toe with the warriors-- resorted to the thick longbow that adorned his shoulder. Wulf strained hard at the bowstring without his belt of strength, and the bow moaned in protest at being called into service after so long at rest. Nevertheless, Wulf managed to plug three solid shots at point blank range, directly into the thick hide of the beholder.

Karak’s reaction to Keldas’ obliteration was the lesser part of valor: With an unsettling disregard for his own safety, he hauled his sword whistling out of its scabbard and dashed up toe to toe with the head desmodu warrior. His charge smote the hairy beast like the fist of Tyr himself— but it was not enough. The three desmodu scowled wickedly down at him and drew their hooked weapons.

The beholder was less sure of its position. It retreated to the back of the room, floating over the heads of its allies until it came to rest behind a veritable wall of slave-flesh. Almost instinctively the lizardmen near the back moved to protect the beholder as it focused its central eye onto the party once again. This time, the abberation turned nearly sideways, so that the unseen edge of its anti-magic cone neatly divided the party into two halves: Wulf and Bala Saka were outside the cone, while the rest of the party— the spellcasters— were still inside the suppression area.

Three tiny, sinous stalks focused themselves towards Wulf and Bala Saka. Wulf could not identify the beams that struck him. He closed one eye and winced as the effect washed over him and dissipated harmlessly— he felt sure that it was only his non-magical dwarven nature that had saved him.

Though he had spent many years among the dwarves, Bala Saka did not share their magical resistance. A beam struck him and the look of determination on his face turned to one of sheer horror. Before anyone could stop him or intercede, Bala Saka turned on his heels and dashed out of the room as fast as his feet could carry him. The last anyone saw of him, he was bounding down the temple steps and running off into the darkness alone.

It was a gamble on the beholder’s part that did not pay off. Dorn sidestepped into the clear and brought down a devastating flame strike that roasted the beholder— and blasted the lizardmen slaves around him to smoking splinders. Alliane followed suit, moving over near to where Keldas had stood moments before. A searing light jumped from the palm of her hand and the beholder fell to the ground like a bad haggis.

The group cheered, but the celebration was short-lived. The three desmodu sliced into the paladin with unerring fury. His defenses were overwhelmed and in mere seconds he lay bleeding on the ground— dying, though not quite dead.

Wulf took some consolation in the fact that with the beholder out of commission, they might be able to heal the paladin in time to save him, but he had to admit that the situation was pretty grim— and at any rate, Dorn had other plans.

The dwarven priest once again started casting. “Clear out, blade barrier on the way…”

Viday spoke up from the back of the group. “But you’ll catch the slaves! There are innocent desmodu back there!”

Dorn would hear none of it and shouted Viday down with uncharacteristic ire. “In case you didn’t notice, we’re down half the party and the mage is disintegrated, so f--- ‘em!” And with that, a host of great axes appeared, shredding the innocent and the evil alike. Dorn had placed the barrier so that the edge of its effect stopped with the desmodu warriors. The paladin’s body lay just outside the whirling maelstrom.

Everything near the back of the room was chopped to pieces, as the effect filled nearly the entire inner fane. The three desmodu warriors near the front simply stepped forward out of the area of effect. Two of the warriors moved up to engage Wulf and Dorn, but their leader hesitated for a moment. Stooping over the body of the dying paladin, he grabbed him by the ankle and nonchalantly tossed him over his shoulder.

Into the blade barrier.

Dorn moved closer to Alliane, carefully eyeing the three remaining desmodu warriors to see if you could line them all up underneath a single flame strike. Before he could even begin casting, however, Viday stepped up behind him and sliced his hook-staff across Dorn's back-- just once, but it was a deep cut.

Dorn spewed forth a stream of obscenities but it was Wulf, for a change, who kept a cool head.

"I don't want to kill yer, and yer don't wanna die." Wulf dropped his bow and drew his axe and dagger, stepping closer to Viday. "Help us finish off these warriors and we'll let Haela sort yer friends out afterwards." He'd lined himself up into flanking position, moving one of the warriors between himself and Dorn. To illustrate his point he hacked into the furry hide of the warrior, nearly killing him in a few short strokes.

Though Dorn wasn't laughing, Wulf actually found the whole thing a bit funny. Viday had stood idly, forgotten by everyone for most of the combat, only entering the fray to beat on the priest.

Dorn started casting his flame strike and put one hand out to move Alliane back. She resisted, pushing back at him to hold her ground. "Careful! You'll blow what's left of Kheldas to the four winds!" Alliane spread her skirts around the dusty pile of remains that was once her cousin. "Keep it well away!"

Dorn cursed his luck, but he knew the she-elf was right. Completing the spell, he blasted it down onto the two farthest desmodu. He'd hoped to catch the one that Wulf had wounded, to finish it off, but it was not to be.

Wulf watched Viday out of the corner of his eye and seemed satisfied that the desmodu's anger had passed, and that he was no more harm to the party. He stepped away from Viday, leaving the wounded warrior for him to finish off. With Dorn and Alliane helping to flank the two remaining warriors, it was easy for Wulf to slip past their defenses and take them down.

All their enemies were slain and the only noise in the room was the sound of the blade barrier, still whirling away.

"We're leavin', right?" Wulf didn't expect any opposition to the notion. Alliane had already scooped up Keldas' remains and Dorn had dispelled his blade barrier to retreive the paladin's belongings and a few gobbets of flesh. Wulf grabbed Viday and nodded towards his three fallen comrades-- the unfortunate explorers who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Grab the bodies, let's go." Wulf, Dorn, and Viday each grabbed a mangled desmodu corpse and the group hustled for the exit. "Dorn, keep that helm of teleportation handy, and if things go south, get us out of here."

"An' if that happens..." He poked Viday in the gut, knowing full well the helm could not teleport someone so large. "Yer on yer own, big fella."

 

[Wulf Ratbane]

DEEP HORIZON Part IV

“What about Bala Saka?” Dorn was already doing the math on how many miraculous resurrections he’d be helping with.

Wulf just shrugged. “He’ll turn up… He can take care of himself.”

They hustled off into the darkness. There was no sign of Bala Saka or of any kind of pursuit. In due time, they returned safely to the forge. The Old Man took one look at their faces and prepared himself for the worst.

“What happened?”

“Keldas got himself disintegrated and the assmar went dancin’ with La Machine.”

“Well, I warned you before, I cannot raise the aasimar. It will take a Wish or Miracle to do that.”

Wulf slapped the helm of teleportation on his head. “I’ll take care of it.”

“How do you intend to pay for that?” said the Old Man. “I myself will require about 8,000 for Keldas’ true resurrection.”

“YER CHARGIN’ US?”

“Well, yes,” said the Old Man, completely nonplussed. “Take a look around you. Raw materials, holy water, vestments, shrines… these things cost money. Not to mention the dwarven smiths we’ve been recruiting. They all have to get paid.”

“Fine, fine.” Wulf stuffed the rest of the paladin’s belongings in his haversack. Into the large center compartment he scooped what was left of the paladin’s body. “I said I’ll handle it.”

Wulf teleported off to the big city. It would take a wish to get the aasimar back, and wishes, it seemed, were not easy to come by. He couldn’t find a wizard at all who was willing to do the deed for less than 28,000 gold pieces—and he didn’t HAVE 28,000 gold pieces. Even if they pooled all the party’s resources, they couldn’t even come close.

He started taking items out of the bag and placing them on the table. “Stop me when yer see something that catches yer eye…”

“Stop!”

“The assmar’s cloak?” Wulf held it up at arm’s length. “What’s it do?”

“It has a powerful enchantment upon it, very powerful. Looks like a cloak of charisma.”

“Charisma?” Wulf tried hard to hide his disdain. What in the nine hells would anyone want a cloak of charisma for? “Ohh… Aye, that’s a useful piece all right. Whatcha gimme for it?”

“I can cast the Wish you require.”

Wulf sniffed. “Oh, I don’t know. I mean, it’s charisma and all.” He turned the item around in his hands. “Powerful magic, too. Gimme the Wish an’ 8000 and yer got a deal.”

“Done.” The wizard absent-mindedly put eight large gems onto the table and Wulf deftly swept them into his pouch.

The wizard seemed lost in thought for a moment, but finally spoke. “Now this wish… I suppose you’ll be wanting me to restore your paladin friend to full health, exactly as he was before?”

“Oh, no yer don’t.” Wulf had heard a thing or two about wishes, how they could be twisted around if they were not worded to avoid any wiggle-room in their interpretation. “Don’t muck around with it. Yer gotta be precise, right? None o’ this ‘Exactly as he was before…’ business.”

“Of course, of course.” The wizard shooed him out. “The process will take a while, however; I’ll require seclusion for the day.”

“Aye, whatever.”

*****

Wulf returned that evening and the wizard welcomed him in, gesturing grandly towards the paladin who rested comfortably in the wizard’s lab. The paladin looked a little groggy, but otherwise he seemed perfectly healthy.

“As you requested… body and soul, reunited again. There was some… ahh, difficulty in repairing the body; fortunately I am well-versed in anatomy. I’ve never seen a more healthy human specimen.”

“Uhh…” Oops. Wulf moved quickly to change the subject. He threw one of the paladin’s arms over his shoulder and boosted him to his feet. “Up yer go, assmar. Let’s get yer home, right?”

“Mmm hmmm…" The paladin swooned a bit as they teleported back to the forge. "I feel funny…”

*****

“You sold my CLOAK?” The paladin was wide awake now.

“Yer have some better idea how to come up with 28,000 gold pieces?”

“Yes! Sell some of that adamantine.”

“Are yer out of yer ferkin’ mind?”

“Well, isn’t that just like a dwarf.”

Wulf got deadly serious for a moment. “Look, bud. Yer had it pretty good up till now, as far as this dwarf is concerned. Ain’t never been greedy an’ graspin’ with the gold, right? But if yer think I’m sellin’ off dwarven ore to the highest bidder, yer got another think comin’.”

“Well, fine, I’ll just buy another cloak. I’ll have to, now that I’m human.”

“Fine, yer do that-- next time we split up the cash. An’ if it’ll make yer feel any better, I’m still gonna call yer ‘assmar.’”

*****

Wulf dropped off the adamantine with the dwarven smiths along with a wish-list from the group. Two longswords, two shortswords, two bucklers, four daggers, 50 arrows, and a great-axe for Dorn.

Wulf went to find Dorn and found the group already assembled in Dorn’s cloister. The priest was really enjoying his new role as ‘Divine Oracle’ and had arranged several small, non-descript compartments where he could retreat to scry.

“Figured we might as well check in on Rourmed and Engram.” Viday had dropped their names early on-- two surface-worlders who had made contact with the desmodu. Dorn shared Wulf’s natural suspicion-- there was nothing that a human and an elf could be up to that was any good. At any rate, nobody wanted to head back into Chael Rendaar to face more beholders. They were hoping for a clue that might hurry things to their natural conclusion: a big pile of dead bad guys.

“Good idea. Yer got a name an’ a description, that should be enough.”

Dorn cast his scrying spell and attempted to center on Rourmed, to no avail. “Well, I’ll try Engram then…”

The scrying sensor appeared. Engram, the elf wizard, was bent over a book. Dorn cast a detect evil spell through his sensor. “Let’s see if this works…”

Dorn held the connection through the sensor and focused on Engram’s aura. “Not evil…”

“Not likely…” muttered Wulf. “What’s he readin’?”

Before Dorn could focus on the page, Engram paused, suddenly alert to the scrying. He calmly closed the book and walked to a non-descript corner of the room. Smiling, he sat down and waited patiently.

“So much for that,” said Dorn.

“Well, as long as yer spell’s workin’, check out the temple in Chael Rendaar.”

Dorn refocused his scrying. Soon he could see the inner fane of the temple. Moving the sensor around, the place seemed mostly abandoned. He spotted a couple of desmodu at guard posts.

“Find out what was in that water.”

The sensor moved under the large pool of water. Dorn could see several enormous lobster-like creatures scuttling about. “Each one of ‘em is bigger than a cart, easy.”

Wulf shrugged. “Ehh… We can handle that.”

Shorty piped up from below. “Yeah, but where you gonna get that much butter?”

Dorn watched as one of the creatures scooted over to a secluded patch on the floor where a number of coins and gems had been piled up. Carefully picking up one of the gems in its enormous pincer, the lobster-creature held the gem up to its eyestalks, seeming to admire it. “Well, whatever they are, they’re intelligent.”

“Any beholders?”

“Let me check.” Dorn moved the scrying sensor around, eventually heading up into the broken tower. The sensor winked out. “Guess that answers that question.”

“Well,” said Keldas, “I suggest we bypass Chael Rendaar and go directly to the desmodu city. Unfortunately no one here has seen the city, so the chance of a teleportation mishap is… of considerable concern.”

“Ach… An’ on top o’ that, I’m not too keen on jumpin’ in there unannounced. We’d need to take Viday, an’ he’s big enough I doubt anybody could zip out o’ here with him anyway.”

“Uhh… I have an idea.” All eyes turned to the paladin. “Well, ahh, we could put the helm of teleportation on Viday, cause he’s seen the city, and he could even take a couple of people with him. I think the helm will always carry the wearer, plus about 500 pounds. So we just make Viday the wearer.”

Everybody blinked and sat in stunned silence. The plan was simple, but brilliant. It was all the more amazing that the paladin had thought of it.

Wulf was the first to speak. “Well, yer know what they say: ‘Even a blind sow will pick up an acorn every now and then.’” But they wasted no time in working out the specific details from the kernel of the assmar’s epiphany.

“… teleports in with a couple of people to protect him…”
“… right to Viday’s home, so it’s inconspicuous…”
“… take Keldas and Shorty, so they can study the area for their own teleportation…”
“… we can pretty much come and go as we please from Viday’s private dwelling!”

Dorn spoke up. “I’ll go too. Viday plus me, Keldas, and Shorty. But first…” he pulled some runes out of his bag. “I knew today would be an oracle kind of day, and if I ain’t got much in the way of smack, at least I can see if it’s safe. An augury, and a divination: Weal or woe, if we travel now with Viday to his home?”

Dorn cast his runes… but the gods were strangely silent.

Nevertheless, they agreed to move forward, and the plan went off without a hitch. In due time, the entire group was assembled comfortably in Viday’s small home in the desmodu city. Wulf noted that the walls of Viday’s home were of a single drab color, but sculpted in pleasing curves and abrupt angles, the better to “see” and appreciate with the desmodu’s unique vision.

They began their visit by grilling Viday about the details of the city politics. The desmodu were led by an aged adept named Bandar and his assistant Mekmit. The explorers, Viday’s caste, were led by Tarket; the merchants were led by Raam; and the warriors by Torjed. The group decided it would be best to start right at the top, and Viday arranged a meeting for them with Bandar.

Bandar’s quarters were located at the top of a temple to Vesperian, the desmodu deity-- Lord of Bats. The path to the temple required the party to cross a narrow stone bridge that spanned a huge crevasse in the floor of the cave. Wulf looked at it and exchanged a nervous glance with Dorn.

“Remember,” Dorn whispered, “Viday crosses us, his three relatives back at the forge DIE. I don’t care if I did raise them myself.”

“Good on yer,” Wulf replied. He appreciated the priest’s dwarven pragmatism-- however heavy-handed it might be.

There was no immediate treachery afoot, however; the group soon approached Bandar’s council chamber and found him meeting with Mekmit and Rourmed. Wulf raised his fist in greeting to Bandar, then nodded to Rourmed-- more than anything to acknowledge his presence, and make it clear he wasn’t at all surprised by it. He took an immediate disliking to Mekmit-- completely unfounded, of course. Wulf simply didn’t trust anyone who played toadie to the avowed leader. Them’s the ones yer gotta watch.

As usual, after the brief introductions, Wulf got right to the point. “We got a problem. Yer salamander buddies are causin’ earthquakes back down the line.” Wulf jerked his head back in the general direction of the forge, as if Bandar would know what he was talking about. “Whole lot o’ dwarves and a nice forge on the line up there.”

“Well, obviously we don’t mean you any harm, but the situation is rather complicated. The earthquakes are no doubt caused by the dam of lava in the salamanders’ lair; they need this lava in order to sustain the gate from their realm to ours. They could not survive here without the heat of that lava.

“There are complications for the desmodu as well. We have only just cleared the way through Chael Rendaar. Chael Rendaar is a choke-point of underdark highways. If the dam bursts and the lava flows into Chael Rendaar again, the desmodu will once again be cut off from the surface world. I am afraid that my people will not survive without outside contact. Already, in the past several hundred years, we have lost much of our arcane knowledge. We have no priests or wizards to speak of.”

Good to know, Wulf thought. “Gimme solutions, then.”

“Well, it’s would still destroy the salamanders’ demesne, but it might be possible to dig a channel through Chael Rendaar to divert the flow of lava through the cavern-- in one side and out the other. Then, the way would not be blocked, and we desmodu could still reach the surface world.”

“Well, let’s talk about that for a second. Are yer aware that yer warrior buddies are enslavin’ yer own people? Viday here, he can tell yer all about it.”

Viday stepped forward briefly. “It’s true. The warriors are a threat to anyone who travels through Chael Rendaar or beyond. They have allied with eye tyrants in Chael Rendaar to retrieve the adamantine there.”

“Torjed has always been overly aggressive, “ Bandar admitted. “Mekmit, arrange a meeting to speak with him.”

“Right then. So gettin’ back to the earthquake problem… Seems to me that no matter how yer slice it, somebody’s gonna get buggered: my dwarves, yer desmodu, or the salamanders. All those in favor of screwin’ the salamanders?”

Wulf’s entire group raised their hands.

Though he had watched impassionately during the entire exchange, Rourmed finally spoke up. “I suggest that the salamanders are more important allies. Surely the dwarves can relocate.”

Wulf made a mental note.
FOLKS TO KILL:
Rourmed.

Rourmed continued. “With our aid, you have had great success with Lord Helkitren. Surely you would not discard the good will of a noble salamander.”

FOLKS TO KILL:
Rourmed.
Helkitren.

“Yer Rourmed, aye?” Wulf looked askance at Karak, hoping for the eeeevil confirmation, but the paladin shook his head. “Ach… Well, just what is it yer doin’ down here, anyway?”

If Rourmed realized that he’d made it onto Wulf’s list, he seemed unconcerned. He spoke calmly, palms upward. “My comrades and I seek trade with the desmodu for the mutual benefit of all parties.”

We got us a fancy-schmancy diplomat here. Two can at play that game.

“Oh yeah?”

Rourmed nodded.

“What comrades? We heard about Engram. How many ‘comrades’ yer got down here, anyway?”

Bandar spoke up. “He travels with a half-elf and a half-orc…”

“Well, if it’s trade yer want, yer can’t do much better than us dwarves. I still say: Screw the salamanders.” Wulf was clearly losing his patience. His palms were itching for his kind of solution.

Bandar waved him aside. “Peace, peace. It doesn’t have to be decided today.”

Dorn whispered to Wulf. “Shorthand for ‘Sleep here tonight so we can kill ya in yer sleep.’”

Keldas nodded to Bandar. “We accept. We’ll stay tonight in your temple, and meet with you and the other desmodu leaders tomorrow.”

“Aye…” Wulf mused. “That Torjed prick is due for a stiff beatin'…”

They were led away to their chambers, and everyone’s mind was on the same thing: A clash with Rourmed was clearly imminent.

“Anytime you match adventurers against adventurers,” cautioned Dorn, “it gets ugly.”

Wulf lay back on his hands, a big grin on his face. “It also gets… lucrative.”

The group bedded down in a small cul-de-sac not more than thirty feet from Bandar’s own dwelling. Bandar’s cave was located above the temple, and the only access (in or out) that they were aware of was a ten-foot wide hole in the floor. Counting Bandar and Mekmit’s spaces, their own cave, and the short passage leading to the gaping hole down, the whole cave had a clover-shaped appearance.

Wulf was the only one who didn’t need his rest to recover spells, and at any rate he wasn’t about to drop his guard among the desmodu, no matter how trusting and good-natured Wulf usually considered himself. He took up a position at the mouth of their cave and did his best to blend in with the rocky wall.

His vigilance was soon rewarded. Not more than an hour after they’d bedded down, a desmodu child-- though still man-sized by Wulf’s standards, of course-- crept into the cave complex and headed for Bandar’s cave. As the child approached the curtain that Bandar had drawn across for privacy, literally within arm’s reach of Wulf, Wulf stepped out of hiding.

“What yer want?” Wulf’s hand was already on the axe at his belt.

Though he was certain the child hadn’t seen him, the ‘little’ desmodu didn’t flinch whatsoever. “I have a message for Bandar.”

“What’s the message?”

“It’s private.” The child put on a petulant look-- at least, as petulant as a 6-foot tall bat could manage.

Dorn was alert now and at Wulf’s side-- with Syrius already well in hand. Wulf held Dorn back and whispered quietly. “Easy now… Be just our luck the little bugger’s innocent. Can’t go ‘round slaughtering their wee ones… yet.”

Wulf stepped aside. “Deliver your message then. We’ll wait right here.”

The child entered the cave and pulled the curtain closed again behind him. Wulf and Dorn stood nearby, listening for trouble-- but there was none forthcoming.

“…meet with him tomorrow first thing to discuss Torjed and his warriors.”

Bandar answered. “Very well. Tell master Tarket I will confer with him before I approach Torjed.”

The child slipped out of the cave again and looked disapprovingly at Wulf and Dorn. “It's not polite to listen in on other people’s conversations, you know.”

“Yah… Bugger off, then.”

The child left them. Wulf once again assumed his position as guard, and Dorn returned to rest. The evening passed without a hitch.

In the morning, however, they awoke to trouble. Several desmodu greeted Bandar and Mekmit, looking askance at Wulf and his companions-- and at Viday.

“Tarket is dead,” one of the desmodu announced. “Witnesses say he was killed by… him.”

The desmodu gestured with his hook, eyeing the assassin down the length of his weapon.

Keldas looked around. “Me?”

They followed the desmodu to Tarket’s dwelling, where several more guards were watching the scene of the crime. Tarket’s body was still there; it was even mostly intact. Unfortunately they hadn’t travelled with a ranger since The Sunless Citadel (Wulf still cursed the fact that the bastard had waltzed off with first magic battle-axe the group had found). Without someone skilled in tracking, there wasn’t really any way to tell exactly how he’d died. He had some deep wounds and some toasty bits, though, plain enough.

“Well,” Wulf suggested, looking hopefully at Bandar, desperate to find a diplomatic solution out of their predicament. “We can cast speak with dead and ask Tarket’s soul about the killing. Would that satisfy yer?”

Before Bandar could reply, Dorn stepped forward. “Ferkit,” he scowled. “Give me time to rest and pray, and I’ll just raise him from the dead. You can ask him whatever the hell you want.” He snapped his fingers, easy as pie. Clearly, Dorn was enjoying his power over the afterlife.

Wulf blinked sheepishly. “Ahh… right. Or we could do that.”

“That would solve the problem,” Keldas said. “Even if Tarket can’t vindicate us personally, obviously we have nothing to gain by killing Tarket and raising him the next day.”

“Aye. No harm, no foul, I say.”

Wulf thought for a moment. “Meantime, Bandar, we’ll want to keep watch over the body. Let’s move him to the temple, right? Yer want to post a few desmodu guards as well, I reckon.”

So it was decided. The party returned to the temple quarters with Tarket’s body. Bandar, Viday, and three other desmodu went with them. Wulf directed the defenses, posting the three desmodu near the hole leading down. He put Viday around the corner in another cul-de-sac. “Keep pingin’ around, let us know if anything’s comin’.”

Karak was stationed right next to the body, along with Bandar. “Just don’t let ‘em get the body, right? Cause I reckon they'll try, their ass is on the line now.” Wulf moved up to the edge of the cul-de-sac and hid near the wall there.

While they waited, Dorn had an idea. “Well, I got a scry spell today. Might as well use it and see what Rourmed is up to.”

This time, the scrying sensor had no trouble locating Rourmed. Dorn spotted him just outside in the desmodu city-- though Rourmed looked like a desmodu child, and standing next to him was someone who looked like Keldas.

Viday shouted a warning. Even from around the corner, his uncanny ‘eyesight’ could see throughout the entire cave-- and even down the hole. “Someone is coming up…”

Wulf tightened his grip on Taranak. “IT’S ON!”

Wulf looked to Keldas to start the party off right. “How about a little haste and improved invisibility here, right?”

Keldas cast mass haste, but Wulf was surprised and disappointed when the elf followed up with mirror image. “What the hell?”

“It’s part of my new philosophy,” explained Keldas.

“What’s that? Cover yer own ass first?”

“Pretty much,” Keldas nodded, pointing to the hole in the floor. Two warriors in plate-mail came cruising up through the hole. The first, a human, sailed up to the desmodu warriors and landed the first crushing blow.

The second warrior was a black-skinned half-orc. He hovered back a few paces, threw back his shoulders and thrust his head forward, mouth open wide. Dorn spotted his scaly skin, but not in time to warn the others before a bubbling gout of acid washed over everyone.

Dorn smacked Bandar. “Next time you tell us the enemy travels with a half-orc,” he bellowed, “you might mention that the other half is DRAGON!” Dorn fired a searing light at the half-orc/half-dragon but missed, striking one of their own desmodu allies instead. “Blast!”

Wulf and Keldas shuddered at the sound of breaking glass from below the hole. They were far too familiar with that sound: the sound of a psion summoning astral constructs. At any moment they expected ghostly gorillas and elephants to come pounding into their midst. “Gonna need some protection here!” Wulf shouted, to no one in particular. He had his own helm of protection from evil so he wasn’t worried for himself.

The paladin stepped forward, cast a magic circle and threw a fireball from his necklace to the back of the cave, catching the two warriors and anybody else who might be standing under the hole. He flushed a couple more enemies out-- Engram floated up out of the hole and cast a dispel over the entire area. He was a powerful wizard, and everyone in the group felt some of their magical protections melt away.

An ice devil came bounding out of the hole, cackling as it took up a position behind the human warrior. A wall of ice sprang up across the mouth of the party’s cul-de-sac, cutting them off from the three desmodu warriors.

“Son of a… Ach, yer bastard!” Wulf was standing right at the edge of the wall, but he didn’t dare chop through it. For starters, he knew the accursed devil would just make another, and to make matters worse, he’d seen Rourmed arrive moments before and start casting. “Right… ready yerselves! When that wall goes down, all hell is gonna break loose!”

From somewhere behind him Wulf heard Alliane speaking. Her usual soft, subdued monotone grew louder and more confident, and soon became a bold recitation: “…our Lord Corellon, grant us power and protection! Lay your hands upon us in our time of need…”

Wulf raised his fist. “Up Corellon… Whatever…” He didn’t particularly want Corellon layin’ his hands anywhere near him, but he couldn’t deny that when Alliane finished her spell, he felt stronger, more agile, more confident.

Still hasted, Alliane readied a dispel magic to counter whatever came at them when the wall dropped. Though the ice wall was too thick to see through, they could see shadowy forms moving on the other side. A human psion and two large astral constructs had arrived.

While the others prepared spells, Wulf could do no more than to grip Taranak tightly and pray for an enemy close at hand.

Keldas dispelled the wall and both sides let fly with everything they had. Engram, the elf mage, started to cast an acid fog centered on the back half of the party’s cave, but Alliane was ready with a counterspell. Keldas acted next, casting improved invisibilty on Wulf, but before anyone could act, Rourmed completed his own spell, and a blade barrier appeared in their midst.

”Scatter!” Dorn yelled. He lost the spell he was preparing and shoved Bandar out of the cave, spoiling the adept’s lightning bolt as well. The party scrambled out of their cul-de-sac and into the two adjoining caves. They were split up now, with Dorn, Alliane, Bandar, and Viday on one side, and everybody else on the other. It was no great surprise, then, when the bone devil threw up another wall of ice into the left-hand cavern, further splintering the group. Keldas and Wulf were in front of the wall, up near the action, but Shorty and Karak were trapped behind another wall.

It was obvious Shorty was getting frustrated. The little sorceror twice tried to dispel the wall of ice, but could not seem to focus his own magic enough to do the trick. Karak was indecisive, pacing back and forth behind the wall, trying to decide if it was worth using one of his powerful scrolls to dispel it, or just hacking his way through it.

The desmodu warriors weren’t faring well against Rourmed and Engram’s hired thugs. Wulf was screaming at them to finish off the bone devil, and like good soldiers they pounded away at it with all their might. Of course, they didn’t seem to notice that their weapons couldn’t hurt it. They were getting nowhere fast and things got even worse when the little half-elf showed up. Wulf watched with admiration as she tumbled through the melee and flanked the first warrior. He grimaced, knowing what was coming next; sure enough, the sneaky little chit was a rogue, and her sneak attacks dropped the desmodu like a ton of bricks. The human warrior and the half-orc-half-dragon easily finished off a second desmodu.

Dorn stood at the edge of Rourmed’s blade barrier and was finally ready to exact a little vengeance. He dropped two flame strikes into the ranks of the enemy, taking out the half-orc-half-dragon, and the psion.

Confident and invisible, Wulf waltzed through the combat and stepped up with the bone devil. “Yer want something done right, yer gotta do it yerself…” Taranak and his bone dagger sliced through the devil’s hide like butter. The devil screamed and backed up, summoning several lesser devils to help out. The devils couldn’t see Wulf, of course, so they surged forward and ripped the last desmodu guard to shreds.

Keldas blasted the devil with a bolt of conjuring and finally sent it screaming back to hell. “And for my next trick…” He gave the human an evil grin. Though he was dressed in full plate, the human warrior fought like a monk, bare-handed, and they had found him nearly impossible to hit. Fortunately Keldas had his number. “You just stand still a second so Wulf can have at you…”

The human went rigid as Keldas’ hold monster spell took effect, a look of surprise frozen on his face.

As much as Wulf wanted to lay into a helpless opponent, Dorn was the next to act, and he wasn’t pulling any punches. A blade barrier sprang up in Rourmed’s portion of the cave. Wulf knew that Dorn couldn’t see him, but he flattered himself to think that the priest was confident enough in his abilities to drop a bladestorm right on his head. True enough, both of the rogues in the area leapt and twisted to escape the whirling blades.

Wulf tumbled after the half-elven rogue, dropping his dagger and drawing a sock full of pennies. He was smiling. “Some days I really love this job…” Axe and sap went crashing down on the girl, and she went crashing to the floor.

Dorn’s blade barrier whirred away. The human ‘monk’ was held helpless at the edge of the blades, and though his expression did not change, there was no mistaking the look of abject terror that crept into his eyes. The blades slowed down somewhat as they whirled around him-- an inertial barrier. Wulf shrugged. Right… you just get to die real slow then, yer poor bastard.

Rourmed and Engram were the only two enemies remaining, and they weren’t about to stand around inside the blade barrier. They retreated down the hole. Dorn dispelled his barrier and cast silence on Wulf. “Go get ‘em!”

Wulf didn’t hesitate, diving down the hole after them. His plan was to step up close so that the silence would prevent their spellcasting. He was surprised to note that became visible as he dropped through, nearly right on top of Rourmed. Invisibility purge, Wulf thought-- and yet, Engram was nowhere to be seen. Wulf shrugged and pulled his hand-axe to deal with Rourmed.

The evil cleric took a good look at Wulf, then backpedalled as fast as he could. Wulf took one good swipe at him with Taranak but Rourmed was able to escape his grasp-- and the area of silence. He spoke an incantation and disappeared.

The smile on Wulf’s face was gone. He hated to see the bad guys walk away from a righteous ass-kickin'.

He headed back upstairs to survey the damage, but the realization slowly dawned on him that they had, in fact, kicked some major ass. They’d only lost three desmodu—and who cared about them, after all?

Someone had finished off all the dead and dying while he was away. Wulf rolled the bodies over and looted them thoroughly-- but he didn’t feel there was much to it.

“These guys don’t have jack…,” Wulf complained.

“Well,” suggested Keldas, “Rourmed and Engram got away with the real treasure, leaving you with a psion, a monk, a thief, and a half-orc dragon-disciple of some kind. I guess they don’t need much of anything, really. Just the power of their own minds and bodies.”

Wulf rolled his eyes at the heavens. “Yer got to be ferkin’ kiddin’ me. How convenient.” He roughly flipped over the unconscious half-elf with the tip of his boot. “I hope fer yer sake, girlie, yer got something worthwhile… other than the obvious.” Of all of them, she was the only one that really came equipped with gear.

“It’s not so bad,” said Dorn, scanning the other gear for magic auras. “There’s quite a bit of weaker stuff here. Lots of potions, some weaker rings and amulets. Nice boots here on the half-orc…” His voice trailed off for a moment. “Sweet lord, look at this greatsword! That'll sell for a good chunk o' change.”

Wulf didn’t hear him. He was bending over the half-elf, rifling through her gear like a raccoon in a rubbish bin. He tossed aside her rapier and her short bow; he unbuckled her potion belt and stripped off her magic armor. He paused for a moment.

“Mmm… Nice hole! I’ll just snatch this little velvet treat and the rest of yer can do what yer want with everything else.”

 

[Wulf Ratbane]

DEEP HORIZON Part V

Wulf roughly slapped the half-elf, trying to wake her up.

“Further beating isn’t likely to work,” suggested Alliane. She brandished one of the weaker wands of healing. “Let’s try this instead.”

With a bit of healing the half-elf was soon awake. If she was disturbed at the sight of her comrades lying dead around her, or the embittered dwarf leering over her with his hands quivering over his weapons, she didn’t show it. She played it cool, and Wulf respected that.

“Let’s be frank: Yer continued health and good fortune is dependent on yer immediate cooperation. What’s in the hole? Any nasty surprises in there?”

She looked at the velvet cloth in Wulf’s hand. “Nothing bad. I keep a carpet of flying in there.”

Wulf screwed up his eyes and tried to decide if she was lying. She seemed sincere; at any rate the worst that could happen was he’d have an excuse for summary execution. Wulf rolled out the velvet cloth onto the ground, opening up the extra dimensional space: a hole, about six feet across and ten feet deep. There was a carpet at the bottom.

“Cool,” said Shorty. “Can I have that?”

“Knock yerself out.”

Shorty hopped into the hole and situated himself on the carpet. “What’s the command word?”

Wulf looked at the girl and nodded towards the hole. “Well? Don’t disappoint him.”

Needless to say, she complied.

“What’s yer name, girl?” Wulf was dragging the bodies of her comrades over to the hole. He dug his spiked boots into the first corpse and gave it a good kick. The half-orc rolled into the hole like a felled log.

“Arrinna.”

“Where would Rourmed and Engram run off to?”

“Well… I would guess either to Helkitren, or to Rourmed’s lord.”

“Who’s Rourmed’s lord and where can we find him?” Two more bodies tumbled into the portable hole.

“Imperagon. He has a fortress on Acheron.”

“What is he? Demon o’ some kind?”

“No, he’s a half-dragon.”

“Oh no you don’t…” Wulf interjected. Not fallin’ for that again. “What’s the other half, right?”

“Grey dwarf.”

Wulf’s eyebrows shot up. Half-dragon, half-grey dwarf, probably a psion, living on Acheron. “Well, we’re not going there. Yet.” Still, he was anxious to pursue Rourmed and Egram immediately. They really hadn’t used much of their resources driving them off the first time.

“Dorn… Yer got any more scrying today?”

Dorn shook his head, and Wulf rolled his eyes. “Right, right, that would make too much sense. If only we had some kind of divine oracle right now.”

Wulf thought for a moment. “Well, they’re going to get a day to recover no matter how we slice it. Might as well head back to the forge.” Wulf tossed the three fallen desmodu warriors into the hole. He jerked his thumb at the half-elf. “Yer turn. Hop in.”

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked.

“Ach, really, I have to tell yer, I’m just wingin’ it for now. No plans. Why? What would yer do if I decided to let yer go?”

“I would return to Lord Imperagon. I must.”

“I appreciate yer honesty, but that was a stupid answer.” Wulf really didn’t want to bother with her, and would have been just as happy to let her go, but there was no way he was going to let her report back to this Imperagon prick, whoever he was. “We’ll hold yer for a while, let the Old Man ask a few questions, he can decide.”

They returned to the forge, where Wulf unceremoniously dumped the contents of the portable hole. Wulf’s half-elf prisoner Arrina was seized by rough dwarven hands and led away to a temporary cell elsewhere in the forge. As the Old Man looked on, Wulf laid out the bodies of four desmodu: three warriors and the fallen leader of the explorers, Tarket. “Bring back any of ‘em who wanna come back, right? Can’t imagine there’s much to do in the bat-afterlife.”

Wulf and Keldas huddled with Dorn. “How soon before we can track them down?”

“I’ll need to rest and recover spells,” said Dorn, already pulling away to retire to his quarters. “At least a day.”

Wulf spent the interim making certain of Arrina’s confinement. “I want four guards on her at all times. Nothing personal,” he suggested, looking the girl in the eye. “I’d still like to see if I can’t find a way out of all this for yer.”

“I will die if I don’t return to Imperagon.”

“Sorry bout yer luck, then.”

*****

Wulf went to join Dorn, and in time, the entire group assembled again for another attempt at Rourmed and Engram.

“I only got a little bit of scrying today,” Dorn explained. “If we find ‘em, I wanted to be ready to attack.”

“Aye, yer wouldn’t want anyone to mistake yer for a font of wisdom.”

“Shaddup… Let’s just look in on Rourmed, shall we?”

Wulf grabbed his arm. “No, wait. Start with Helkitren.”

“Why?”

“Well, I figure Rourmed’s going to have himself protected from scrying, right? Probably Engram, too.”

“Right, with ya so far.”

“There’s only two places they’ll go: Imperagon or Helkitren. And since we don’t wanna tip our hand to Imperagon…”

“And since I can’t scry into other planes anyway,” Dorn interjected.

“… So just focus in on Helkitren, right? If Rourmed’s with him we’ll know right away.”

Dorn cast his scrying and focused in immediately on Helkitren, the lord of the salamanders. Sure enough, he was seated at table with Rourmed, Engram, and several important looking Ignan dignitaries, including an efreeti noble.

“… the balance of the shipment…” he was saying, when he stopped abruptly, suddenly alerted to the scrying. He sighed, clearly frustrated. “Engram…”

The sensor was suddenly blanketed in darkness.

“Ach, well… They know we’re coming.”

“Are we?” said Dorn, clearly in disagreement with that ploy. “I say we wait until tomorrow so I can ply us with protection from fire spells.”

“But if we wait until tomorrow, they will have time to prepare as well! I say we hit ‘em now!”

They wasted precious minutes arguing back and forth before Dorn finally made a suggestion. “Well, I got a divination, let’s see what Haela suggests.”

Wulf rolled his eyes, already all too familiar with Haela’s track record. “Whatever.”

Dorn cast his runes, beseeching Haela for wisdom: Attack now or wait until the morrow?

Sure enough, he was answered with the usual non-committal mumbo-jumbo: some vague admonition that ‘being prepared was good, yep’ and this jewel of foresight: “They will know the moment of your arrival.”

Of course, Dorn took that as proof that the attack should be delayed, but Wulf was mightily perplexed. The entire portent smacked of determinism-- which he resisted with every fibre of his being.

“Now just hang on a second,” he suggested, trying to wrap his mind around the seeming paradox, his anger coming to a slow boil. “If they know exactly when we’re coming… well, that could be five minutes from now, right? How could Haela answer that with any clarity? How does she know what we’re going to decide?” Wulf raised his eyes and his fist to the sky. “WE HAVEN’T EVEN DECIDED YET!”

Wulf gathered himself. “We’re going now.” He waved aside Dorn’s protest. “We’re going now. Look, I’m not gettin jerked around by Haela or anybody else’s god. So either I’m gonna surprise 'em, or I’m donna do EXACTLY what she already knows we’re gonna do anyway. If she had a problem with it she coulda said so. We go NOW.”

While he spoke, everyone was slowly won over to Wulf’s point of view. While Wulf paced back and forth, scowling and urging them all to hurry, the others scrambled to prepare themselves with spells: Karak broke out his scrolls, Keldas and Alliane huddled together, Shorty and Loyal did the same. “Time’s a wastin! They know when we’re comin’, remember? Every second yer give em now is more time for them to prepare a welcoming committee!”

Shorty tapped Wulf to get his attention. “Uhhh, Dorn is the only one who saw the area to teleport in…”

Dorn hadn’t been easy to persuade, and now that his course was set, he wasn’t about to let a little thing like that change his mind. “I’ll draw a ferkin’ MAP, you guys can take yer chances!”

Keldas tapped Wulf lightly, preparing him with an Improved Invisibility. His disembodied voice called out to them as he unfurled his portable hole on the ground. “We’re not leavin’ anything to chance!” he shouted.

“Now… Who’s goin’ in the hole?”

Only after all their preparations were finished, and the clock was ticking on their battle spells, and he was looking down into the portable hole at the faces of his allies-- Karak, Alliane, and Loyal-- did Wulf start to have second thoughts. He gripped the edge of the magic velvet and prepared to close up the hole. He figured they had a couple minutes of breathable air, tops, before they suffocated inside the extradimensional space.

“Yer all sure about this, right?” Wulf hoped they couldn’t hear it in his voice: the eleventh hour desperation, seeking, at the least, a release of culpability.

“Just make sure you get this hole open as soon as you can,” said Karak.

Wulf nodded. “Ach… Well… If I don’t open it within 30 seconds, yer can bet we’re buggered to hell an’ back-- an’ yer probably better off in there.”

Wulf rolled up the hole and tucked it into his belt.

“Ready?” asked Dorn.

Wulf nodded and stepped in next to Shorty and Keldas. “Just make sure yer don’t miss,” said Wulf. “Be a shame to teleport into all the lava down there.”

“Don’t worry,” said Dorn. “Haela’s got this one. I feel lucky.”

Sure enough, they were spot on: just a few feet in front of the conference table. Wulf was among the first to assess the situation. “Flamin’ hell…”

Seated at the table were Helkitren, the salamander noble; Rourmed and Engram, and a large eagle; an elf in full plate and two astral constructs; an efreet-- and a noble at that, no mistake; and around the room he spotted three or four more salamanders, four hell-hounds, and a half-dozen bone devils. But what really caught Wulf’s eye was the big insect devil standing right in front of them, and the gargantuan-sized fire elemental behind them. Wulf had flashbacks of the massive fire-thing they’d fought in Nightfang Spire.

“Ach, we’re f---“

Before he even had time to finish his thought-- which thought was, of course, to sound an immediate retreat--Keldas sprang to action. A single word of power sprang from his lips, and Engram was stunned. The poor bastard didn’t even have a chance to think about resisting.

The element of surprise was over, but Keldas made no show of slowing down. A tiny iron rod danced between his fingers at dizzying speed as he flung his arm towards the towering elemental. “Hold!”

Keldas knew it was a long-shot, but it paid off. The thing was paralyzed. His left hand flew out in the opposite direction. The merest moment passed, just long enough for a look of surprise to reflect infinitely in its multifaceted eyes, and then the thing was disintegrated.

“Ach!" said Wulf. “That was lucky!”

"Believe me, you have no idea," said Keldas, though he'd clearly surprised even himself.

The enemy finally broke free of their stupor and moved to action. A thick wall of ice sprang up, neatly enclosing the small group of heroes. “That’s bloody annoying,” said Dorn, already preparing to dispel it. “But at least they’re playin’ defense!”

True enough, from outside the ice the enemy was busy, desperately trying to dispel the effect of the power word that had hobbled their own wizard. From somewhere above them, invisible efreet used their innate abilities, one after another, until finally Engram was freed.

Wulf grabbed the portable hole from his belt and held it ready. As soon as Dorn dispelled the wall of ice, Wulf moved forward and threw open the hole, right into the vacant spot left by the massive insect-demon. Wulf looked down into the faces of his allies. “Moooooove!” he shouted, pulling his dagger from his belt and setting Taranak ablaze.

The hell-hounds, profoundly unimpressed by everything the two-legs were up to, charged up to surround Keldas and Shorty. Several of Keldas’ mirror images were dispersed, and Shorty too was bitten and scorched, but it only served to annoy the little halfling. Ignoring the snapping jaws of the hell-hounds, he mustered his concentration and sent blast after blast of chain lightning thundering through the room. The stench of ozone filled the air as all of the hell-hounds and both of the astral constructs were completely obliterated.

Several efreeti surrounded Wulf, calmly reaching out to touch him. Wulf winced, expecting a one-way trip to the Elemental Plane of Fire, but amazingly enough, their phenomenal luck held: Wulf bobbed and weaved and somehow, against the odds, avoided the deadly plane shift.

By the time Karak came flying out of the portable hole, engulfed in a blinding aura of holy power, and smote the noble efreet with a powerful blow, the enemy was broken. Rourmed grabbed Engram and Helkitren and disappeared in a flash, and after they were gone, everything that could escape wasted no time doing so, leaving the unfortunate elf-in-plate alone against the party.

As his weapons whistled down on the foe, singing the axe-and-sap lullabye, Wulf heard the elf mutter briefly, “Not again…”

 

[Wulf Ratbane]

INTERLUDE: QUEEN OF LIES

It took them some time to realize that the assault was an unqualified victory. Rourmed and Engram had escaped, true enough, but their departure echoed swiftly through the rest of the cave complex and their salamander allies were not far behind.

“Didn’t waste any time buggerin’ off, did they?” Wulf looked disappointed.

“Would YOU want to stay around to face us?” asked Keldas.

“Aye… Just not a real satisfyin’ battle for me. Spent the whole time worryin’ about my hole.”

“This ought to cheer you up,” said Dorn, returning from another cave with a handful of adamantine ore. “Plenty more where this came from.”

Indeed, by the time they’d gathered all the ore into one place, Wulf’s smile was chiseled into his face. “Figure we got about a hunn’erd grand here… give or take. All we got to do now is hold on to it.”

Wulf looked around at his companions. The fight was over so quickly, nobody was severely hurt, and they hadn’t expended much in the way of resources, either. “Think we can do it?”

Dorn nodded. “Should do. Don’t really want to leave that portal sittin’ here.” He pointed to the huge flaming portal that led back to the Elemental Plane of Fire. “I can take care of it tomorrow, for sure.”

“What yer got in mind?”

“Well, a forge, even a salamander one, seems a proper place to reconsecrate to Haela Brightaxe. I’ll hallow the area tomorrow, and lock ‘er down with a dimensional anchor. That ought to do it.”

And it was as simple as that. By the end of the next day, they’d stored the adamantine, returned the prisoner to their own forge, and completely sealed off the salamander gate. By the end of the next week, they’d secured the salamander caves and returned to Chael Rendar. The beholders had also left for better prospects, and the group wasted no time solving the problem of the lava flow. They’d need to dig a channel 40 feet wide and 40 feet deep for the lava to flow across Chael Rendar and ease the earthquakes.

“I have to leave for a while for ‘religious matters,’” suggested Dorn. “I’ll send a crew of dwarves down to help out.”

Soon enough, Wulf was overseeing a crew of dwarven miners, though truth be told, most of the hard work was done by Keldas: An umber hulk with access to disintegrate could move one hell of a lot of earth.

Wulf and Keldas were discussing the placement of the great stone bridges across the lava channel when Wulf received a sending from Diessa.

“Drow are attacking the forge in force. The Old Man is poisoned and down. Come home.”

Wulf smiled grimly, appreciating her dwarven pragmatism, and gathered the group around him. “Drow attackin’ the forge, the Old Man is down an’ out. We’re heading home. Yer got 10 seconds to prepare, then we hit ‘em!”

Keldas, Karak, and Alliane cast a couple of quick spells. Wulf stood near Shorty, who cast a spectral hand then turned a toothy halfling grin to Wulf.

“If we survive this, I say we charge the Old Man for bringin’ him back.”

They teleported back to the Forge, landing square in Wulf’s own bedroom-- a practical decision, not only because Wulf had installed a secret door leading to the great hall, but because his spartan room was uncluttered enough to accommodate them all. Keldas cast improved invisibility on Wulf, then led the rest of the group out through Wulf’s secret door, and through the Old Man’s quarters. Alliane was in the lead, and she could see the door to the great hall standing open at the end of the passage. Diessa stood there on the dais, her back to the heroes, standing guard over the Old Man and looking out into the great hall where drow and duergar swarmed over the desperate dwarven defenders.

Wulf didn’t follow. Instead, he took the long way around, intent on bursting into the great hall from the side door. Away down the long western hallway Wulf could hear the sounds of a desperate battle, but Wulf couldn’t, in good conscience, head off to battle against the drow rank-and-file when their accursed leaders were afoot in his great hall.

He turned away and charged through the side door. In a glance he spotted several of the drow leaders, making mental notes to himself as he summed each of them up in turn: Male: wizard. Female: priest. Drider: Yeesh, bigger’n I thought.

Wulf desperately wanted to come to grips with the priestess standing in the center of the hall, but he knew he couldn’t close the distance fast enough. He was just short. Instead, he drew axe and dagger and opted for the drow male close at hand. Six seconds with that poor bastard, then we’ll close with she-bitch. Wulf charged the short distance confidently, and was not the least bit surprised or concerned when he neared the area of the drow priestess and his invisibility winked out. Invisibility purge, sure enough.

Wulf slashed into the drow wizard from the side, gutting a deep gash across his side despite the wizard’s protections. The drow snarled confidently and hissed at Wulf with a voice like venom. “Squat one, that was a mistake.”

His gloating was short-lived, however, and whatever nastiness he had planned for Wulf would never see fruition. Karak charged into the hall, leapt off the dais, and smote the wizard for all he was worth. The look on the drow’s face as his head rolled across the floor was priceless.

Shorty, now hasted, swaggered into the room. He clapped his hands together and summoned a chain lightning that blasted the drow priestess and some dozen of her closest companions.

And then, for good measure, he did it again.

By the time Shorty was done, the hall was littered with smoking corpses. One of them, it seemed, must have been responsible for the invisibility purge, for Wulf noticed that he’d turned invisible again. Wulf shrugged and left the priestess to Alliane and her searing light. And yes, there was still a drider coming up the hall, but Loyal was just punishing the thing with his arrows and Karak looked eager to smite it, too.

Wulf wasn’t about to miss out on the fun again. He noted two unfortunate warriors who were standing close enough for him to get between them, and he dished out two or three attacks to each of them before they even knew he was there. The air crackled again with Shorty’s efforts and Wulf moved among the survivors like lightning himself, cleaving them left and right. He was showboating; though he was invisible, of course, the results of his performance were evident in the flopping limbs, scattered entrails, and assorted gore he left in his wake.

The writing was on the wall. A few desperate survivors tried to escape through the old forge and down to Nightscale’s lake. Wulf shouted after them, “Come on, yer pansies, it hasn’t even been thirty seconds since we got here!” He gestured to Alliane. “If yer please?”

A divine storm materialized inside the old forge-- whirling longswords of elven make sliced through dark-skinned flesh. Wulf was surprised to see, perhaps, the merest look of satisfaction on Alliane’s face. Every last drow and duergar who had attacked them lay dead at their feet.

“So much for that,” said Keldas.

“Leave the cleanup to me and we’ll divvy up the loot.”

While the rest of the group moved through the hall and tended to the dead, dying, and wounded dwarves, Wulf got to work on the drow and duergar.

“Well, it wasn’t easy, but I’ve sorted the drow into two piles: male and female.” He smirked at Keldas. “I think…”

“Do you suppose they will return?” asked Karak. “This may be an exploratory attack. A second wave could come at any time.”

“How do they tell time in the underdark?” mused Shorty.

Karak scoffed. “By the sun!”

Wulf stared blankly at Karak. “In the underdark?”

“Well, by the moon then.”

Wulf just nodded. He had begun to suspect that perhaps Karak wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. “Just cast detect magic and help me strip these bodies of anything useful.”

“With pleasure!” The paladin rolled up his sleeves and happily began looting the dead.