When I write the characters, I try to write them as people, not statistics. Having said that, if I want to know what they can do, I have to have their stats chosen.
Delegado was a 6th level ranger when he was introduced. When he arrives in Yrlarg shortly, he'll be 11th level. Iron Orphan is currently an 11th level monk. Thomas was a barbarian/fighter/rogue when he died, mostly rogue levels.
Parnain is the first major character to have a prestige class. That's right folks, can you guess who has assassin levels?
Parnain is a half-elven Rnager 3/Rogue 7/Assassin 6. A 16th level character. With maximized spot ranks.
Beware, spoilers ahead:
What race doesn't Parnain like? (Hint: Shapechangers are hsi favored enemy.) What notable member of House Tharashk is hopelessly in love with a changeling? What have I got in store?
Yep, it's gonna be verrrrry interesting.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Wise Words
That's the name of a feat I developed, which Iron Orphan will be taking when he reaches 12th level (coming up).
These Wise Words feat is a DnD 3.5 feat that allows the character with the feat the ability to use their Int modifier on a Diplomacy check (and Orphan has an Int of 14 and a Cha of 6), so long as the character has an opportunity to engage the other party in some sort of meaningful discourse. (DM's discretion what that means, but I would be generous.)
The only pre-requisite is one rank in Diplomacy. Orphan has 2 ranks in Diplomacy, and maxed out ranks in Sense Motive (which easily gives him the 5 ranks in Sense Motive he needs for the +2 synergy bonus), so once he takes this feat his Diplomacy check will be +6. Taking a few more ranks in Diplomacy when he hits 12th level (a class skill for a monk) will make him a pretty good negotiator.
This is a good complement to his partner, especially since Delegado (half-orc with a Cha of 8) tends to negotiate with a longbow.
These Wise Words feat is a DnD 3.5 feat that allows the character with the feat the ability to use their Int modifier on a Diplomacy check (and Orphan has an Int of 14 and a Cha of 6), so long as the character has an opportunity to engage the other party in some sort of meaningful discourse. (DM's discretion what that means, but I would be generous.)
The only pre-requisite is one rank in Diplomacy. Orphan has 2 ranks in Diplomacy, and maxed out ranks in Sense Motive (which easily gives him the 5 ranks in Sense Motive he needs for the +2 synergy bonus), so once he takes this feat his Diplomacy check will be +6. Taking a few more ranks in Diplomacy when he hits 12th level (a class skill for a monk) will make him a pretty good negotiator.
This is a good complement to his partner, especially since Delegado (half-orc with a Cha of 8) tends to negotiate with a longbow.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
And The Story Continues
I hope you've enjoyed the novel. It's sequel begins here.
I may post some short stories on this blog shortly, probably some things that took place before this novel in the lives of the characters. I've a great deal of notes on Pienna, and I really would like to explore her younger self more.
Or, maybe I'll post the stats (DnD 3.5).
Any suggestions, this would be the post to make them in.
I may post some short stories on this blog shortly, probably some things that took place before this novel in the lives of the characters. I've a great deal of notes on Pienna, and I really would like to explore her younger self more.
Or, maybe I'll post the stats (DnD 3.5).
Any suggestions, this would be the post to make them in.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Chapter 21 - Part 10
The 2nd of Aryth, 993 Y.K., early morning, on the northwestern coast of the Demon Wastes
Delegado recovered first, slashing at the babau and scoring a hit along its side. He could have pressed in deeper, but he knew to pull away before the acid jelly pitted his blade. Orphan reacted next, punching the demon in its back. Neither attack had much effect, although Orphan’s hands smoked from the acid. “Back to Khyber with you!” the half-orc yelled. For once he envied his many relatives who found strength in their rage.
Thomas gripped his greataxe, then stepped back, doing nothing.
“Thomas!” yelled Delegado, jerking back to avoid claws heading for his throat. “Get in here!”
“Let the Silver Flame help her,” sneered the half-daelkyr.
“Dissension,” giggled the demon, slashing a line on Orphan’s shoulder. “Chaos. Beautiful.”
“The Flame will help me,” Ois said, holding her jaw as she stood. A glow came from her hands, a silvery glow that closed her wounds and made her face whole again, save for the scar that the ogre magus in Droaam had given her. The blood that had fallen was slowly absorbed into the snow on the beach.
“So tasty she smells!” the demon said, whirling to attack her again.
Orphan jumped the demon, grappling with him, but this time he had no protection from the acid. He managed to keep the thing still, but his body smoked painfully. With a shudder, the warforged went limp, falling off of the demon and lying still on the beach. Fluid and oil leaked from the warforged’s cracked and smoking frame. Unlike Ois’ blood, it did not mix with the snow. Instead it ran over it, leaving a dark line that slowly snaked to the water’s edge.
Orphan’s sacrifice was not in vain, as it had bought Ois time to recover. The changeling paladin took her longsword in both hands and cried, “I smite thee with the Silver Flame!” Unlike Delegado’s sword and Orphan’s fists, her sword went all the way through the creature, making it gape at the sword point that poked through its chest. Silvery fire spread out from the wound, making the demon howl.
Delegado’s sword opened the demon’s guts, and Thomas’ greataxe finally spoke, cutting it in the head. The demon staggered, trying to slash and bite, but it failed to do so. Ois shifted her stance, and cut her sword free.
The babau collapsed like a sack of wet meat, its acid smoking against the snow. Ois and Delegado both cleaned their swords on the snow in the same motion, and then turned to point them at Thomas.
“Come at me then,” Thomas said, the head of his greataxe smelling of ozone as the demon’s acid sizzled on it. “Let’s finish this, eh?”
“I am going to kill you,” Delegado said, snarling.
“No, you won’t,” Ois said. “Thomas, you hate me, but do you want Orphan to die? Or your horse? Or Feather?”
“Listen to the lady or we’ll finish what we started in Merylsward, freak,” Delegado said with menace. He wanted to tear Thomas limb from limb, but he was not like his relatives. He comprehended her plan, and he knew that brain would be better than brawn right now.
Thomas stepped back and circled a bit. “You think I trust either of you? Orphan’s dead.”
“Look at him, look at his eyes!” Delegado said. “He’s not dead, he’s inert, just like that time in the caves south of the Holt! Now are you really his friend or was that just the Mockery’s flattery?”
“I am his friend!” Thomas thundered. “I’m not some changeling liar! But I have no more scrolls, I can’t repair him!”
“You can conjure up a storm,” Ois said. “Impair visibility and movement. It will stop any more teleporters, and it will buy is time to try and fix him.”
Thomas considered this. “Fine,” he said. “But step away from me while I do it, I don’t trust you.”
“Mind if I get the last of the caltrops from your horse?” Delegado asked.
“Like they’ll help,” snorted the half-daelkyr. But he sheathed his greataxe handle and pulled the staff off of his back.
Delegado got the caltrops and scattered them as best as he could while Thomas called on the power of the staff. The half-orc also gave Feather the ‘home’ command so that the hawk settled back down on his armored shoulder.
The sky was turning a leaden gray, and rain began to fall as lightning bolts danced between the clouds. Thomas gripped the staff and stared. The rain was a shower of icy darts at first, then a drizzle. Soon it would be a maelstrom.
Ois was trying to prop up Orphan’s body to see what she could do, but she had no training as a craftsman or blacksmith. “I don’t know what to do!” she said. “I used the last of my laying on hands ability on him, but it was only a trickle, and his construction wouldn’t take it properly.” Tears ran down her face as she held the warforged. “Delegado, I don’t know what to do for your friend. I’m sorry.”
“We’re all sorry,” Thomas said, his voice becoming faint. “But what good does sorry are? There is no forgiveness. There is no peace. There is only death.” Above them all thunder boomed, and the storm picked up.
“I thought it took you ten minutes to get the staff to work!” Delegado yelled, rain running down his face.
“Something is pushing it!” Thomas said. “Something is accelerating the weather!”
Thunder boomed, and freezing rain soaked them all. Vision was reduced significantly, and the angry howls of hundreds of fiends could be heard as their prey winked out of sight due to the sudden downpour.
“The idea was to hide us, not pin us down,” Delegado shouted. His heart was not in it, however. He was more concerned with Ois and Orphan.
“What do I do, Delegado?” she asked. Her tears were washed away by the pouring rain as she gripped Orphan. He body was no longer smoking from the acid, but the leaking fluid was now touching water’s edge, and floating on the water. “I have no more spell power to help him! What do I do?”
Delegado looked around, watching the cold rain cut everything off from view, watching Orphan’s fluid mix with the cold sea, hearing the snarls and gibbering of the approaching fiend army. He crouched next to her and helped her hold his friend.
“Pray,” he said.
“What?” she asked.
“Pray,” he said again. “It couldn’t hurt, right?”
She stared at him incredulously, and then began her low chanting. “Silver Flame attend to us, Silver Flame protect us, Silver Flame warm us. Here your servants need you, here your servants beseech you…”
I don’t have her pretty words, Delegado thought. And I don’t know who or what is out there. Maybe the Sovereign Host, maybe the Silver Flame, maybe the nature force the druids worship. Maybe even this logical hidden abstract idea Orphan believes in. But whatever you are, help him! Help Orphan, because I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more!
Thomas came over, dropping to his knees. “Silver Flame protect us, Silver Flame warm us…” Ois was so shocked she paused for a second, but then she grabbed his hand and they continued to recite the catechism together.
“You want words, I’ll give you words,” Delegado said in a soft voice. “You show me there is something watching over this world, you help this man – this warforged – my friend!”
Thunder boomed, and the demons howled, their clawed feet scratching as they broke out of the snow-choked defile. To the northeast and southwest the heavy thudding of great feet continued to grow.
The three of them prayed for the warforged as death approached from three sides.
END BOOK ONE
TO BE CONTINUED
Delegado recovered first, slashing at the babau and scoring a hit along its side. He could have pressed in deeper, but he knew to pull away before the acid jelly pitted his blade. Orphan reacted next, punching the demon in its back. Neither attack had much effect, although Orphan’s hands smoked from the acid. “Back to Khyber with you!” the half-orc yelled. For once he envied his many relatives who found strength in their rage.
Thomas gripped his greataxe, then stepped back, doing nothing.
“Thomas!” yelled Delegado, jerking back to avoid claws heading for his throat. “Get in here!”
“Let the Silver Flame help her,” sneered the half-daelkyr.
“Dissension,” giggled the demon, slashing a line on Orphan’s shoulder. “Chaos. Beautiful.”
“The Flame will help me,” Ois said, holding her jaw as she stood. A glow came from her hands, a silvery glow that closed her wounds and made her face whole again, save for the scar that the ogre magus in Droaam had given her. The blood that had fallen was slowly absorbed into the snow on the beach.
“So tasty she smells!” the demon said, whirling to attack her again.
Orphan jumped the demon, grappling with him, but this time he had no protection from the acid. He managed to keep the thing still, but his body smoked painfully. With a shudder, the warforged went limp, falling off of the demon and lying still on the beach. Fluid and oil leaked from the warforged’s cracked and smoking frame. Unlike Ois’ blood, it did not mix with the snow. Instead it ran over it, leaving a dark line that slowly snaked to the water’s edge.
Orphan’s sacrifice was not in vain, as it had bought Ois time to recover. The changeling paladin took her longsword in both hands and cried, “I smite thee with the Silver Flame!” Unlike Delegado’s sword and Orphan’s fists, her sword went all the way through the creature, making it gape at the sword point that poked through its chest. Silvery fire spread out from the wound, making the demon howl.
Delegado’s sword opened the demon’s guts, and Thomas’ greataxe finally spoke, cutting it in the head. The demon staggered, trying to slash and bite, but it failed to do so. Ois shifted her stance, and cut her sword free.
The babau collapsed like a sack of wet meat, its acid smoking against the snow. Ois and Delegado both cleaned their swords on the snow in the same motion, and then turned to point them at Thomas.
“Come at me then,” Thomas said, the head of his greataxe smelling of ozone as the demon’s acid sizzled on it. “Let’s finish this, eh?”
“I am going to kill you,” Delegado said, snarling.
“No, you won’t,” Ois said. “Thomas, you hate me, but do you want Orphan to die? Or your horse? Or Feather?”
“Listen to the lady or we’ll finish what we started in Merylsward, freak,” Delegado said with menace. He wanted to tear Thomas limb from limb, but he was not like his relatives. He comprehended her plan, and he knew that brain would be better than brawn right now.
Thomas stepped back and circled a bit. “You think I trust either of you? Orphan’s dead.”
“Look at him, look at his eyes!” Delegado said. “He’s not dead, he’s inert, just like that time in the caves south of the Holt! Now are you really his friend or was that just the Mockery’s flattery?”
“I am his friend!” Thomas thundered. “I’m not some changeling liar! But I have no more scrolls, I can’t repair him!”
“You can conjure up a storm,” Ois said. “Impair visibility and movement. It will stop any more teleporters, and it will buy is time to try and fix him.”
Thomas considered this. “Fine,” he said. “But step away from me while I do it, I don’t trust you.”
“Mind if I get the last of the caltrops from your horse?” Delegado asked.
“Like they’ll help,” snorted the half-daelkyr. But he sheathed his greataxe handle and pulled the staff off of his back.
Delegado got the caltrops and scattered them as best as he could while Thomas called on the power of the staff. The half-orc also gave Feather the ‘home’ command so that the hawk settled back down on his armored shoulder.
The sky was turning a leaden gray, and rain began to fall as lightning bolts danced between the clouds. Thomas gripped the staff and stared. The rain was a shower of icy darts at first, then a drizzle. Soon it would be a maelstrom.
Ois was trying to prop up Orphan’s body to see what she could do, but she had no training as a craftsman or blacksmith. “I don’t know what to do!” she said. “I used the last of my laying on hands ability on him, but it was only a trickle, and his construction wouldn’t take it properly.” Tears ran down her face as she held the warforged. “Delegado, I don’t know what to do for your friend. I’m sorry.”
“We’re all sorry,” Thomas said, his voice becoming faint. “But what good does sorry are? There is no forgiveness. There is no peace. There is only death.” Above them all thunder boomed, and the storm picked up.
“I thought it took you ten minutes to get the staff to work!” Delegado yelled, rain running down his face.
“Something is pushing it!” Thomas said. “Something is accelerating the weather!”
Thunder boomed, and freezing rain soaked them all. Vision was reduced significantly, and the angry howls of hundreds of fiends could be heard as their prey winked out of sight due to the sudden downpour.
“The idea was to hide us, not pin us down,” Delegado shouted. His heart was not in it, however. He was more concerned with Ois and Orphan.
“What do I do, Delegado?” she asked. Her tears were washed away by the pouring rain as she gripped Orphan. He body was no longer smoking from the acid, but the leaking fluid was now touching water’s edge, and floating on the water. “I have no more spell power to help him! What do I do?”
Delegado looked around, watching the cold rain cut everything off from view, watching Orphan’s fluid mix with the cold sea, hearing the snarls and gibbering of the approaching fiend army. He crouched next to her and helped her hold his friend.
“Pray,” he said.
“What?” she asked.
“Pray,” he said again. “It couldn’t hurt, right?”
She stared at him incredulously, and then began her low chanting. “Silver Flame attend to us, Silver Flame protect us, Silver Flame warm us. Here your servants need you, here your servants beseech you…”
I don’t have her pretty words, Delegado thought. And I don’t know who or what is out there. Maybe the Sovereign Host, maybe the Silver Flame, maybe the nature force the druids worship. Maybe even this logical hidden abstract idea Orphan believes in. But whatever you are, help him! Help Orphan, because I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more!
Thomas came over, dropping to his knees. “Silver Flame protect us, Silver Flame warm us…” Ois was so shocked she paused for a second, but then she grabbed his hand and they continued to recite the catechism together.
“You want words, I’ll give you words,” Delegado said in a soft voice. “You show me there is something watching over this world, you help this man – this warforged – my friend!”
Thunder boomed, and the demons howled, their clawed feet scratching as they broke out of the snow-choked defile. To the northeast and southwest the heavy thudding of great feet continued to grow.
The three of them prayed for the warforged as death approached from three sides.
END BOOK ONE
TO BE CONTINUED
Chapter 21 - Part 9
Cold.
What does it mean, that this is my only reaction?
Cold.
No, my reaction is numbness, emotional cold. If I feel no fear, it may be because of Ois, but if I feel nothing, it is because of me.
As if by themselves, his eyes turned up the beach, then down. The great fiendish animals were far off, but efficiently cutting off any chance of escape. Iron Orphan didn’t want to look, he wanted to close his eyes. Put them back into their semi-organic containment units. He didn’t want to see them come out of the defile, either. It was failure. In an hour, maybe two, they would be surrounded. All the pain, all the death, even murdering that lousy King, was for nothing. They had no way out.
How do I know if I did anything, in the long run?
How do I know anything at all? Why did I ever think I could do this when I am less than a year old?
Cold.
“Hey, wake up, you sluggard!” yelled Delegado. Orphan focused, and realized that the half-orc had been trying to talk to him for the last minute or two. “You in there, Orphan?”
“Yes,” Orphan said at last, coming out of his despondency somewhat. “Yes. What? What is it?”
“What do we do?” Delegado asked.
“Why are you asking me?” Orphan retorted.
“You’re in charge,” Thomas said.
“I don’t want to be,” Orphan said. “Look where I’ve led us! We’re going to die! And for what?”
Ois cleared her throat. “Don’t worry,” she said in response to the warforged’s glare. “I am not about to give you another lecture about the Silver Flame.” She had given up on that since leaving Ashtakala, since her one-time pupil had refused to speak with her. She had talked to Delegado about little things, over the past few days they had always seemed to find time to discuss the inconsequential, but she hadn’t preached to anyone. “I simply want to discuss our situation. Logically.”
“We have no scrolls, no potions, no arrows, no throwing weapons, and only one horse unless you’re going to conjure yours up again,” Orphan retorted. “They will be here in an hour, maybe two, and maybe some will teleport in early. All of you are tired and hungry and we aren’t going to last long once it starts. What did I leave out?”
“You can’t just give up,” Delegado said. “We have a riddle that we all memorized, a riddle that we have to solve.”
“Oh excuse me while I check some tomes out of the library,” Orphan said sarcastically.
Delegado swung a fist at him. Orphan caught it, and restrained himself from breaking the half-orc’s arm.
“Looks like you aren’t dead yet,” Delegado said, pulling his hand back. “Now think. Can you get to the Shadow Marches? You don’t need to breathe, maybe you can swim under the tide.”
“I’d die in that water,” Orphan said. “We tested it. It’s freezing. I’d last longer than any of you, but I would die.”
Thomas flexed his muscles and shifted his grip on his greataxe. “We will all die, and our flesh will be carrion,” he said.
“You finally talking to me?” Delegado asked. “Because you pick the strangest things to say sometimes.”
“Yeah, I’m talking to you,” Thomas said. “And you,” he added to Ois. “We’re going to die, and I need someone to kill the stormstalk after I go, so I’m talking to you.” The stormstalk glared at him balefully.
“I never lied to you about the Silver Flame,” Ois said sadly.
“Don’t start,” Thomas said. “Just don’t.”
“Orphan, let’s get it together and have a plan,” Delegado said.
“Alright,” Orphan said. “How about giving a message for Feather to deliver to Blood Crescent?”
“It’s too cold, he isn’t made for this weather,” Delegado said. “And he’d get eaten by something. Otherwise I’d have sent him away earlier.”
Orphan considered this. “Maybe we can charge down one beach, and I can hold off some of the things while the rest of you climb the cliff. Once up there Ois can summon her steed and you can keep moving. You’d have to go, too, you might find enough food to live off of the land, or at least get to the Labyrinth.”
Ois shook her head. “I am not the climber, Orphan, I am sorry.”
“Those cliffs are covered in ice,” Delegado said. “I don’t know that I could, either. Certainly not before something with wings came by. Those cliffs are almost seventy feet in height.”
“Do you have a better plan?” Orphan asked.
Before Delegado could respond, there was a shimmer, and a gaunt demon teleported in. Orphan recognized the swept back horn. “Babau!” he yelled. “Beware the acid skin!”
The babau slashed at Orphan, gouging him, and then turned and cut Ois. Ois gasped as the babau’s claws slashed over her old facial scar. Blood flew from her face as muscles were shredded, revealing her jaw and teeth. She fell to her knees, clutching her opened cheek as the fiends drew nearer.
What does it mean, that this is my only reaction?
Cold.
No, my reaction is numbness, emotional cold. If I feel no fear, it may be because of Ois, but if I feel nothing, it is because of me.
As if by themselves, his eyes turned up the beach, then down. The great fiendish animals were far off, but efficiently cutting off any chance of escape. Iron Orphan didn’t want to look, he wanted to close his eyes. Put them back into their semi-organic containment units. He didn’t want to see them come out of the defile, either. It was failure. In an hour, maybe two, they would be surrounded. All the pain, all the death, even murdering that lousy King, was for nothing. They had no way out.
How do I know if I did anything, in the long run?
How do I know anything at all? Why did I ever think I could do this when I am less than a year old?
Cold.
“Hey, wake up, you sluggard!” yelled Delegado. Orphan focused, and realized that the half-orc had been trying to talk to him for the last minute or two. “You in there, Orphan?”
“Yes,” Orphan said at last, coming out of his despondency somewhat. “Yes. What? What is it?”
“What do we do?” Delegado asked.
“Why are you asking me?” Orphan retorted.
“You’re in charge,” Thomas said.
“I don’t want to be,” Orphan said. “Look where I’ve led us! We’re going to die! And for what?”
Ois cleared her throat. “Don’t worry,” she said in response to the warforged’s glare. “I am not about to give you another lecture about the Silver Flame.” She had given up on that since leaving Ashtakala, since her one-time pupil had refused to speak with her. She had talked to Delegado about little things, over the past few days they had always seemed to find time to discuss the inconsequential, but she hadn’t preached to anyone. “I simply want to discuss our situation. Logically.”
“We have no scrolls, no potions, no arrows, no throwing weapons, and only one horse unless you’re going to conjure yours up again,” Orphan retorted. “They will be here in an hour, maybe two, and maybe some will teleport in early. All of you are tired and hungry and we aren’t going to last long once it starts. What did I leave out?”
“You can’t just give up,” Delegado said. “We have a riddle that we all memorized, a riddle that we have to solve.”
“Oh excuse me while I check some tomes out of the library,” Orphan said sarcastically.
Delegado swung a fist at him. Orphan caught it, and restrained himself from breaking the half-orc’s arm.
“Looks like you aren’t dead yet,” Delegado said, pulling his hand back. “Now think. Can you get to the Shadow Marches? You don’t need to breathe, maybe you can swim under the tide.”
“I’d die in that water,” Orphan said. “We tested it. It’s freezing. I’d last longer than any of you, but I would die.”
Thomas flexed his muscles and shifted his grip on his greataxe. “We will all die, and our flesh will be carrion,” he said.
“You finally talking to me?” Delegado asked. “Because you pick the strangest things to say sometimes.”
“Yeah, I’m talking to you,” Thomas said. “And you,” he added to Ois. “We’re going to die, and I need someone to kill the stormstalk after I go, so I’m talking to you.” The stormstalk glared at him balefully.
“I never lied to you about the Silver Flame,” Ois said sadly.
“Don’t start,” Thomas said. “Just don’t.”
“Orphan, let’s get it together and have a plan,” Delegado said.
“Alright,” Orphan said. “How about giving a message for Feather to deliver to Blood Crescent?”
“It’s too cold, he isn’t made for this weather,” Delegado said. “And he’d get eaten by something. Otherwise I’d have sent him away earlier.”
Orphan considered this. “Maybe we can charge down one beach, and I can hold off some of the things while the rest of you climb the cliff. Once up there Ois can summon her steed and you can keep moving. You’d have to go, too, you might find enough food to live off of the land, or at least get to the Labyrinth.”
Ois shook her head. “I am not the climber, Orphan, I am sorry.”
“Those cliffs are covered in ice,” Delegado said. “I don’t know that I could, either. Certainly not before something with wings came by. Those cliffs are almost seventy feet in height.”
“Do you have a better plan?” Orphan asked.
Before Delegado could respond, there was a shimmer, and a gaunt demon teleported in. Orphan recognized the swept back horn. “Babau!” he yelled. “Beware the acid skin!”
The babau slashed at Orphan, gouging him, and then turned and cut Ois. Ois gasped as the babau’s claws slashed over her old facial scar. Blood flew from her face as muscles were shredded, revealing her jaw and teeth. She fell to her knees, clutching her opened cheek as the fiends drew nearer.
Chapter 21 - Part 8
By the end of the twenty-seventh of Sypheros they had used the remainder of their scrolls. From what scrying Thomas could do and what Feather saw on his flights, the fiends were still massing, still grabbing every resource they could find to capture those who had invaded their unholy city. Most of them were blocking the way to the Icehorn Mountains, Festering Holt, or the Labyrinth, while others seemed to be crawling out of every crevice in the volcano to the north of Ashtakala. They were forced to head northwest, then due west, trying to avoid the demonic patrols. As it was, some flying fiends had to be dispatched to keep them from telling the rakshasa of the intruders’ whereabouts. That used up most of their arrows.
On the twenty-eighth they used up the last of their alchemical devices, and they lost their tents and one bedroll to a flyby attack from a thing that seemed to be a dark corruption of an eagle, only ten times as big as a normal one. In the afternoon they entered a wide defile that moved down the slope of what must have been a great riverbed eons ago. From what Feather told them, it was the only way to go that did not lead them into masses of hunting fiends. Delegado surmised from the shape of the slope that they were heading to the Bitter Sea, but he could not be sure.
They stopped earlier than planned on the twenty-eighth when Ois’ horse dissipated unexpectedly early. They did not know why, but Orphan guessed the fiends were somehow interfering with conjuration spells that were drawn from good powers. Since Delegado had been riding with Ois while his father’s body was tied to Thomas’ horse, this forced them to stop. They could not run like Orphan could.
That night they were attacked from the high ground on either side of the defile. Their enemies were routed, but by Delegado using his remaining arrows. With half a night’s sleep they started traveling by foot. When the sun rose on the twenty-ninth, Ois was able to summon her horse again, and they took off just ahead of a horde of dretches driven by skeletal things with whips of eldritch energy. They fled the entire day, not stopping to eat, pushing themselves and their mounts as much as they could. They kept moving after sunset as well, not stopping until the defile opened past a break in what was a high cliff stretching to their right and left. A broad plain of cold, snow-covered barren and cracked earth stretched open before them. A wink of seawater teased them from the horizon, and Delegado thought he could smell the salt in the water.
They slept about four hours, and ate briefly. When they had some light from a moon, they moved cautiously across the snow after Thomas had used the staff to choke the defile with another blizzard.
When dawn came, they were standing on the shore, watching as they saw movement at the northeastern and southwestern horizons along the beach that formed an edge along the cliffside. Movement that would show itself to be fiendish dire animals in large numbers, directed by forces unseen. Behind Orphan and his companions was an army struggling through the snow-choked defile. Ahead lay only a cold, dead sea, with storm clouds as dark as death gathering in the sky.
On the twenty-eighth they used up the last of their alchemical devices, and they lost their tents and one bedroll to a flyby attack from a thing that seemed to be a dark corruption of an eagle, only ten times as big as a normal one. In the afternoon they entered a wide defile that moved down the slope of what must have been a great riverbed eons ago. From what Feather told them, it was the only way to go that did not lead them into masses of hunting fiends. Delegado surmised from the shape of the slope that they were heading to the Bitter Sea, but he could not be sure.
They stopped earlier than planned on the twenty-eighth when Ois’ horse dissipated unexpectedly early. They did not know why, but Orphan guessed the fiends were somehow interfering with conjuration spells that were drawn from good powers. Since Delegado had been riding with Ois while his father’s body was tied to Thomas’ horse, this forced them to stop. They could not run like Orphan could.
That night they were attacked from the high ground on either side of the defile. Their enemies were routed, but by Delegado using his remaining arrows. With half a night’s sleep they started traveling by foot. When the sun rose on the twenty-ninth, Ois was able to summon her horse again, and they took off just ahead of a horde of dretches driven by skeletal things with whips of eldritch energy. They fled the entire day, not stopping to eat, pushing themselves and their mounts as much as they could. They kept moving after sunset as well, not stopping until the defile opened past a break in what was a high cliff stretching to their right and left. A broad plain of cold, snow-covered barren and cracked earth stretched open before them. A wink of seawater teased them from the horizon, and Delegado thought he could smell the salt in the water.
They slept about four hours, and ate briefly. When they had some light from a moon, they moved cautiously across the snow after Thomas had used the staff to choke the defile with another blizzard.
When dawn came, they were standing on the shore, watching as they saw movement at the northeastern and southwestern horizons along the beach that formed an edge along the cliffside. Movement that would show itself to be fiendish dire animals in large numbers, directed by forces unseen. Behind Orphan and his companions was an army struggling through the snow-choked defile. Ahead lay only a cold, dead sea, with storm clouds as dark as death gathering in the sky.
Chapter 21 - Part 7
“It sounds like we are abandoning Meschashmal,” grumbled a young brass dragon. He was smoking a pipe the size of a horse. It was an affection of his that was quite recent, maybe only twenty years old.
“Meschashmal is dead,” snorted an angry gold. The gold dragon was not much older than her brass-colored co-conspirator, but she had been angry most of her life. “We ought to be thinking of revenge! Death! Retribution!”
“You forget the bigger picture, darling,” said a young male green who had been pursuing the gold for a century. She still hadn’t mated with him yet. “We need to thwart the Lords of Dust as they plan so that the Prophecy will not be marred.”
“Don’t patronize me!” the gold snapped.
“Calm down, all of you,” said a crusty copper with an abundance of chin whiskers. With Meschashmal dead he was the oldest member of the Chamber living. “We can do nothing about Meschashmal, but we can protect the Prophecy, which I may add Meschashmal gave his life for.”
“Distracting the fiends so the three can sneak into their city,” the brass said, taking another puff. “Impressive. They will die of course.”
“They are four,” snapped the gold. “And I care not a whit that they die, but I do care that they are supposed to deliver the riddle and they cannot.”
A crystal hummed in the center of the rocky glade where they were meeting, and the copper directed a mental nudge at it. “Yes?” he asked.
“An interesting alignment of the planes has occurred,” came the tinny voice on the other end that was in reality an extremely large red who studied patterns of magma inside a volcano that housed a planar vortex. “The ship is moving. The four may be part of it, but they will again become three.”
“What does that mean?” the brass dragon asked, pushing his pipe to the side.
“It means that this isn’t over,” sneered the gold. “What we need to do is decide what to do about it.”
The green frowned, the exhaled a bit. “Our only choice is the druid,” he said. “We may not like working with her, but she can accelerate the weather there.”
No one spoke for a while. The white dragon druid was extremely difficult to work with, and as she was not a member of the Chamber, she charged a high price for her silence.
“Do it,” the copper said finally. “We don’t have a choice.”
“Meschashmal is dead,” snorted an angry gold. The gold dragon was not much older than her brass-colored co-conspirator, but she had been angry most of her life. “We ought to be thinking of revenge! Death! Retribution!”
“You forget the bigger picture, darling,” said a young male green who had been pursuing the gold for a century. She still hadn’t mated with him yet. “We need to thwart the Lords of Dust as they plan so that the Prophecy will not be marred.”
“Don’t patronize me!” the gold snapped.
“Calm down, all of you,” said a crusty copper with an abundance of chin whiskers. With Meschashmal dead he was the oldest member of the Chamber living. “We can do nothing about Meschashmal, but we can protect the Prophecy, which I may add Meschashmal gave his life for.”
“Distracting the fiends so the three can sneak into their city,” the brass said, taking another puff. “Impressive. They will die of course.”
“They are four,” snapped the gold. “And I care not a whit that they die, but I do care that they are supposed to deliver the riddle and they cannot.”
A crystal hummed in the center of the rocky glade where they were meeting, and the copper directed a mental nudge at it. “Yes?” he asked.
“An interesting alignment of the planes has occurred,” came the tinny voice on the other end that was in reality an extremely large red who studied patterns of magma inside a volcano that housed a planar vortex. “The ship is moving. The four may be part of it, but they will again become three.”
“What does that mean?” the brass dragon asked, pushing his pipe to the side.
“It means that this isn’t over,” sneered the gold. “What we need to do is decide what to do about it.”
The green frowned, the exhaled a bit. “Our only choice is the druid,” he said. “We may not like working with her, but she can accelerate the weather there.”
No one spoke for a while. The white dragon druid was extremely difficult to work with, and as she was not a member of the Chamber, she charged a high price for her silence.
“Do it,” the copper said finally. “We don’t have a choice.”
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