Disclaimer:
Hello again! Well then! I finally managed to get my ass back in writing again (particularly because I'm so sick of studying college stuff 'n' all...). But I'm back with the seventeenth part of NNT. It's kinda shorter than the rest, I know. Sorry about that. Now what should I yap about first... oh yeah! Legal stuff. You all may shut your ears now. First of all (bla, bla, bla), as mentioned before, this story is totally fictional and has no purpose whatsoever to imply that any member of the BSB is gay. Secondly, also as mentioned before, the setting of this story is 100% based on TSR, Inc. Novels, the Forgotten Realms. The story is written purely out of fun and leisure and I have no intention of publishing it anywhere or whatever. Hmm... what else? Oh yeah, this story also contain homosexual elements, so if you got a problem with it, Boo-hoo. However, if you are looking for some hot monkey sex scenes, sorry dudes, you'll be disappointed. I'm just not good in writing about that stuff :P (I'm a good boy, hehe) Let just keeps the detailed sex stuff behind closed doors. But if you like stories that goes nice and slow and have more to offer than just sex, oh well, you might like this one (I hope).
Well! Now that is gone out of da way, lets get on with the story. Hope you enjoy it. If ya got comments, objections, suggestions, tips, death threats, bomb threats, boos, tomatoes or cabbages to throw or whatever, just write to me at goldenknightuk@yahoo.co.uk
Anyway, I would like to thank everyone who e-mailed me of your comments and such. It's nice to know that you've enjoyed it. I live to serve (Hah!). All in all, thanks guys. I intend to make this story as long as I can. But ideas do tend to run out quickly. I can always think up of new ideas (if I can get my lazy mind going long enough. It really needs a kick or two at times but it has always serve me well... hmm... well, most of the time). But if you have any inputs, ideas or suggestions, feel free to drop me a note anytime you want, be it through e-mails, letters, pigeons, message in a bottle, Morse codes, talking drums, whatever.
Author's Note:
Another thing is, in case you didn't notice; I have changed my email address. So if you guys wanna drop us a note, sent it to goldenknightuk@yahoo.co.uk
Right! Enough mindless chatters, roll back the curtain, roll the drums and on with the show!
Drew and Andy
In the Ruins of Tandrull, near the Sword Coast...
It was said that legends and myth are akin to old folk's tales, created by aged grandfathers to scare children into obedience. It was said that history represents deeds that were done in the past and that, one must always learn from it and gain more wisdom. It was also said that evil never sleeps and that sometimes, when one evil is vanquished from this world, it will come back in another form, another shape.
The creature is old, older than the kingdom of Cormyr, older even the fabled ruins of Myth Drannor. Even when he was amongst the living, he has lived for more and a century or so, his life prolonged by his magic.
Once, during the ancient days of long lost Netheril, he was amongst the most powerful archmages ever lived. His name alone is enough to bring fear and respect to anyone who hears. During the time of the Netheril, humankind has reached the peak of magical achievements and skills. His works, his skills, his achievements was greatly valued and his miraculous feats had attracted the attentions of numerous scholars from all races. Those were the time of the Netheril, when knowledge rules all and symbolizes the status of power.
But knowledge and power has never been enough to him. He has known that for so long now. He seeks more. What uses are knowledge and power when he is nothing but dust and bones? Why should he spent all of his energy and time burying himself in countless tomes and scrolls or doing countless magical researches, just so that others could gain from it when he is dead?
Time. Time has always been his enemy. It works slowly and patiently, never knows fear and never tires. Persistent and gradual. Eventually, no matter how great his achievements is, no matter how powerful he is, his bone grew tired more and more. His memory began to fade. His eyes began to blur and his hearing began to dull. Such is the limitation of being a mortal. Such limitations, such weakness. Soon enough, he realized that he is nothing more than a pathetic mortal, standing near the end of his life. He has been a proud man all his life. He could never tolerate such weakness. He has crushed all his enemies in the years past. But now he knows what his real enemy really is. Time!
It was at that time he started seeking for more than power. It was at that time he began seeking for immortality. He was willing to sacrifice his own very life to the darkest of gods if that could grant him what he desires. Immortality... a chance to beat time.
But such quest is not without its own sacrifices, oh no. With great greed and dark desires, so goes all that is good from his heart. From a kind and generous teacher, he became cold and harsh. From a loyal and honorable friend and comrade, he became treacherous and deceitful. From a loving lover, there is now anger and hate. From the light, he enters the realm of darkness. And in darkness, there is no place for goodness and love.
So he focused all of his magic and skills and force himself to achieve what he desire most, to be immortal. A lich he becomes, the most powerful and evil of all undead. And with it, he has crossed over the line where there is no return. With it, so goes the last shred of goodness from his soul leaving him with nothing but coldness, hatred and malice. So arises one of the most purest forms of evil in Faerun.
Driven by his own malice and hatred, he strove to shape the world anew. He created a fortress of his own, imbued and protected it with his own magic. And from that, he strove to kill and destroy. His undeath form makes him hates all life. So he seeks to destroy them all.
His army is massive and terrible to behold. With the awesome might of his magic, he raised all of the dead to march before him. From the shadow, he summoned fourth all kinds of shades and shadow-fiends to fight at his side. From the nether planes, he summoned ghouls, wraiths and wights and a host of spectral armies to join his own ranks. His generals consist of a host of vampires and demon-lords. His flanks consist of mummies and golems.
Such armies of the dead are terrible to behold and wherever they goes, a blight follows and the Realm trembled with fear before them, for this army is not an ordinary army. They need neither foods nor drinks. They do not tire and know no fear. They cannot be bribed nor do they feel any pain. And wherever they go, night follows and the sunlight fled.
Battles after battles followed and the army of the dead prevailed. Races allied with each other, humans with elves, and dwarves with orcs and gnomes with halflings, and for each army sent against them, the undead shattered them all. And instead of leaving them in the battlefield, the lich raised them and make them swell his legions of the dead. So arise the Time of the Dead, a dark period upon all the races in Faerun.
But such battles eventually attracts numerous unwanted attention from other powerful foes, and one in particular, the lich will never forget to the rest of his undead days.
At the peak of his victory, a new powerful threat, more powerful than the High Mages in the elven kingdoms, comes his way. The threat comes like the wind, in the form of Lanthor, Lord of the Arcane Tower, Sorcerer-King of the Netheril Empire. Behind him came his nine most loyal followers, great archmages all, and worst, each of them has been his greatest rival in his previous life. Long has the lich expected this confrontation and long has he prepared for it. But to his deepest loathing, deep inside, he knew he would never prevail against such odds.
The spell-battle was massive and more than spectacular, lasting for five continuous nights. To these days, the eldest of the elven High Mages who still survive such time in Evermeet, still shudder at the memories of the sheer amount of unleashed magical energy at that time. The spell-battle could be seen from miles away and even in Icewind Dales, the ice-dwelling barbarian tribes gazed in wonder at the gathered storm clouds and continual flashing of lightning in the far distant.
As he has expected, the Sorcerer-King prevailed at the very last. But not without his own losses. Eight of his nine companions fell that fateful day and even Lanthor himself was bleeding to death from a magical wound that could never be cured. Even then, the Sorcerer-King couldn't overmaster the lich's power. No one can, the lich himself has made sure of that. Through his magic, the lich has made himself nearly indestructible. Only a god or a being with the power of a god could destroy him.
As powerful as the Sorcerer-King is, the best he could do was imprisoning him in an extra-dimensional prison. Now, his body still stood in Faerun beneath the ruins of his once glorious fortress. His body still stood in the middle of his ritual room beneath the ground, hands still upraised in mid-spellcasting, suspended in temporal stasis. Part of his soul is in his body. But the other part; the part that hold the true source of his power, are sealed in another dimension. And there he has existed till now.
But he has found a way to free himself. For decades, he has worked with his plans and even now, he has partially succeeded. Now, he only needed a willing mortal to free him completely.
The hollowed orbit on the lich's skull glow with dim red light as he sensed four mortals entering the ruins of his fortress above. Within the dark depth of his extra-dimensional prison, the spirit of the lich smiled.
"These mortals will do nicely." The lich thought to himself. "They will free me. And when they do, the Realm will learn to fear the name of Tandrull once again."
At the Citadel of the Ravens...
As his consciousness gradually return, he became more and more aware of the cold stone floor beneath him. The pain the wreck his body slowly lifted by itself but that in his head still remains. Slowly he opened his eyes and tried to push his body up.
Bad mistake.
The pain he had thought to have gone away crashes back upon him full force, perhaps ten times the initial amount. Mumbling curses to every dark god he could think of at that moment, he let himself fall back to the floor.
Another bad mistake, as the pain intensified when his body hits the cold floor.
For several moments, Andy lay on the floor, helpless as a newborn kitten. A soft groan emerged from his lips as he slowly musters his energy to gain control of his body again.
'Where in the Nine Hells am I?' he thought to himself.
As his mind clears, he raised his head and turned his bleary eyes to examine his surroundings. His gaze fell first on the dark stonewall that stood forebodingly before him. A series of rusty shackles and low-burning torches lined the wall at regular intervals. Examining closer, he realized that he is in a cell within a dungeon. A rusty iron bar separates his cell from the rest of the dungeon.
The air is damp and cold. Here and there, he could hear the dripping of water, no doubt from the bad plumbing from the drainage of water from above. There doesn't seem to be any window to let any sunlight in. The floor is dirty with dirt and scraps of garbage. Occasionally, rats and other rodents would scuttle by, creating small screeches and clicking noises as they busily ran freely about with their own business.
Gathering all his energy, Andy worked his muscle enough to get up to his knees. Pain aches his body everywhere and looking down, he noticed various scars and bruises decorating his body. His battle-robe seems to be torn at many places to the point where it almost looked like rags. His blond hair is matted with dirt, mud and dry blood, as does his face. His lip is swollen and touching it, he noticed evidence of dry blood matting over it. It is evidently clear that his arrival here had not been a gentle one.
Memories of recent events leading to his arrival here is still foggy but it gradually becomes clear as time passes on. He remembered his running with Nick and the rest, his battle with the Hellhounds before the gates of Tandrull's ruined fortress, his battle with the beholder...
He remembered the mage riding a wyvern hurling a lightning bolt at the bridge where he stood. He remembered the bridge crumbling and the beholder paralyzing him, rendering his absolutely helpless...
Memories after memories came crashing down upon him. And most of all, he remembered his desperate attempt to transfer half of Tempus' gift to Nick...
Pain flared again, this time over his scalp, and Andy gave a small groan and closed his eyes as he wavered weakly to maintain his strength. Gods! Will the pain never cease?
Standing on his feet slowly he forced his eyes to open and willed his mind to examine his prison further. Pushing his mind through the mist of pain and recent memories, he forced his mind to try to formulate a way to escape his predicament. Examining the lock, he dismissed the notion away as quickly as it comes. A thief may be able to pick the lock as easily as eating a pie. But Andy is no more a thief then he is a rabbit. Breaking down the door? Again he discarded the idea. He may be a battle-mage, but that doesn't mean he has the strength of a true brute warrior. His strength lay more in his magic than anything else. His magic? Again, it is hopeless. His spells are there but all of the necessary spell components he needed to cast them are gone... as does all his weapons - his daggers, his silver shortsword, and his staff. Even his spellbook is gone.
Searching for any cracks, holes, footholds or even a small window within his cell, he found none. Cursing again, he leaned against the wall behind him. He's in a real fix all right.
He looked up as he heard the sound of the door crashing open somewhere in the distance. Soon enough, five sentinels, garbed in typical Zhentarim armor, appeared before his cell. One of the sentinels studied his warily before nodding the prison warden to unlock the door.
"Take him," the sentinel leader spoke to his comrades. "Be wary for any tricks. Quickly. The Lady brooks no delays."
Andy might as well struggled to crack a stonewall with his bare hands, because no matter how much fight he puts up, no matter how much he protest, the sentinel seized and over powered him easily and soon he was half pulled and half dragged along the dark corridors and halls, up the stairs and eventually pushed roughly into a small ritual chambers within one of the numerous tower of the fortress. Dazed and confused, Andy looked around at his new surroundings, trying to find some sort of a clue as to where he is.
Looking at the runes engraved markings of the room, he found the clues he was looking for at last. He recognizes the room well. He has seen it many times in the past, while scrying or in one of his numerous battles. The runes, the lines of scrolls and tomes filled bookshelves, the small mage's lab that stood at one corner of the room. He is within the Wizard's Watch Tower, the main Zhentarim wizard's hall within the Citadel of the Ravens.
"Welcome and well met, Child of Tempus."
A voice spoke from one corner of the room. Whirling around to confront the owner of the voice, Andy face the cold gaze of the otherwise truly beautiful woman. Even from afar, she looks stunning. Her hair is raven black, streaks with white at the front. It flows across her shoulder like water from a river, swaying alluringly as she moved. She wore a glimmering sky-blue gown, streaked with silver and split at the bottom, up to her navel, revealing her pale smooth leg that is covered from her knees downwards by a leather high-heel boots. Even her hands are covered from the elbow downwards by a pair of silk gloves that matches her gown. A flowing blue cape draped her back and her face is half hidden under the cover of her raised cowl. Rings line her fingers, some are simply plain rings, and others are carved beautifully and ornately decorated by rare gems. A necklace hung around her neck, supporting a deep blue sapphire that seems to flash faintly as she moves. Silver runes decorated her gown and cape, even her boots and gloves. Her body is delicately curved and definitely alluring to look at, and even as she shifted her stance slightly to put her arms on her hips, she reminds Andy of a beautiful temptress he met in the years past in Calimshan. Beautiful... yet dangerous. An ornately carved, jeweled belt draped around her hips, and from it, Andy could see no less than five wands hanging loosely from its holders. Even if that is not enough to make any man wary of this little serpent, the ornately carved, golden scepter in her right hand that occasionally crackles with power should be more than enough.
"Spit you name, little serpent." Andy growled softly.
The woman moved forward coolly. Her movements are slow and graceful as any highborn queen... and most definitely alluring and hypnotizing. In another life, should Andy find himself favoring women instead of men, there would be no doubt that he would have fallen under her charm. Even now, he finds himself struggling from getting down to his knees to worship the little goddess.
The woman smiled, as if she knew exactly how Andy felt about her.
"I am Elaendra, current ruler of the Citadel of the Ravens, which is where you are standing now." She replied coolly. Andy gazed into her eyes, trying to look into her soul, only to find himself repelled by the cold fire that raged within. This is no woman. She bore the resemblance of a woman outside, but the void where her soul once was is now filled with ice and cold. A serpent? Nay, even worst.
The enchantress motioned her hand lightly.
"I presumed you know my dear friend, Sememmon, Lord of Darkhold?"
From the door where she stood earlier, another figure moved into Andy's view. A familiar figure. Middle-aged (though looks can be deceiving when it comes to wizards), long dark hair and somewhat, handsome face, Sememmon of Darkhold is no small foe to be set aside lightly. Rumors speak of him as a ruthless mage who has trained many evil wizards of the Zhentarim over the years and has slain many who tried to slay him. It was also said that he is so far, trusted by Manshoon himself as fully as Manshoon ever trusted anyone. It was further rumored that he held the second rank of power in the Zhentarim network, within the Inner Circle of power, with the first rank being held by Manshoon and Fzoul Chembryl, while the third rank is held by the arch-sorceress, Ashemmi.
Sememmon nodded at Andy coldly and expressionlessly.
"Well met, old foe." The archmage greets softly.
Andy's lips curled into a snarl.
"You." Andy managed to spit out.
Elaendra smiled.
"Old grudges never settle, doesn't it?" the enchantress chuckled in amusement.
"Whatever you plans are, witch," said Andy, his voice hoarse in anger and challenge, "I shall put a stop to it!"
With that, Andy embraced his half of the power of Tempus, creating a direct conduit to the War God essence to channel enough magic to power one of his spell. Spitting out the necessary arcane phrase, he thrust his hands out to work his spell, intending to teleport himself out of his captivity.
A disc of silvery light appeared around him, spreading brighter and brighter, forming a teleportation disc. At the corner of the room, he saw Sememmon backed away, his hands raised to shield his eyes. The spell is working perfectly. Even now, he could feel the familiar surge of magic powering up his spell...
Then the world exploded around him and flaring white light blinded him, shocking him to the core of his soul. Pain wreck his while being and for the moment he felt like his whole body is being torn apart.
The pain lasted only for a moment and then the light faded, leaving him dazed and unable to move. It took him a second or two before he realized he is hanging in the air. A strong arm grasped his neck tightly, preventing him from breathing and before he could even do anything, the same hand slammed him to the wall.
Desperately fighting for air, he looked forward only to have his gaze fall upon the cold eyes of the enchantress. Despite her frail appearance, empowered by her own spell, it was she who somehow managed to halt the teleportation disc and held the young man in the air by the neck with one hand as if he is nothing but a ragged doll.
"Young fool," she hissed harshly. "You dare cast a spell in MY domain?"
She released her hold on Andy and stepped back, taking care as to not breaking her gaze from the young mage. The she pointed to the wall behind Andy.
"Wall! Hold him!"
To Andy's surprise and horror, the wall behind him shook and grew out numerous hands, each curling around his body from chest to toe to prevent him from escaping. One hand grasped his mouth, preventing him from casting any spell. Andy fought for all his worth to shake himself loose from the holding arms but all he could manage was to make the arm holding him tighter against the wall. His cry of protest came out only as a muted mumble.
The enchantress stepped closer to stare at him face to face.
"This is MY domain, foolish mage." She said softly. "No one teleport in or out without MY permission."
The hand covering Andy's mouth lifted under the enchantress' will. Andy glared at her, his eyes burning with hatred.
"What are you planning to do to me, witch?" he spat out angrily.
Elaendra's lips curled into a smile.
"Why, making you serve me, of course." She purred softly. Gently, she stroke Andy's hair, her hands then descended to stroke his cheek. "I do so love to have strong young men such as yourself serving me."
Disgusted, Andy spat on her face.
"Never!"
Elaendra drew back and gazed at Andy with eyes burning fiercely with the vengeance of winter as she calmly wiped the spit from her face.
Then before he knew it, his world exploded again. It took him a moment to register the burning pain on his left cheek where the enchantress' slap hit him.
"You will serve me, boy," the enchantress purred softly as she placed the tips of her fingers of her left hand over Andy's chest. "You shall be my most faithful servant."
'Ditae Emera'ath Ka'aranithra namiae...'
Andy looked up in alarm as he finally realized Elaendra is chanting a spell, her hand on his chest began to glow with blue-white light.
"NO!" Andy shouted and began to struggle for all his worth. Eleandra simply chuckled cruelly as she continues with her spellcasting. "NOOO! I WILL NOT..."
The without warning, the enchantress backed away, aura of magical energy began to swirl around her. Surrounded by her magic, the enchantress began to look less frail, and more powerful. The scepter in her hand glow in resonance of her gathered power. Her voice began to rise as she continue with the chant, and her face grew stone cold and expressionless as she muster all her concentration and strength and focus it into her spellcasting. The circle of runes the surround Andy on the floor began to glow too, and it was then Andy realized what spell the witch is casting.
Elaendra pulled her hand back from Andy chest, slowly as if she is dragging something out with great effort. It was then, Andy screamed as a burst of pain shot throughout his body.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO.....!!!"
The room seems to thicken and crackles with gathered power and even as Elaendra continue to shout every syllable of her spell, the runes on the flow flared brightly and arc of magical lightning sprang up and struck Andy, engulfing him like a blanket. Andy screamed, the pain seems to be tearing his soul apart and shattering his mind. Tears of pain blurred his eyes and trickled down his cheek and still the pain continues.
Elaendra's shout rose even further, as she spat out every syllable shrilly. Both her hands are raised now, one holding her scepter and the other held outstretched towards Andy. A magical beam connected her outstretched hand to Andy's chest and from it, a translucent mist emerge, as if being pulled out of him. Waves magical wind swirled around Andy now, and little by little, Andy's strength began to fades. Then, a hideous shriek burst out all over the room, heralding the arrival of a dark spirit.
The translucent mist shot forth, pulled free at last by Elaendra's spell. With it, Andy gave one final tormented shriek as the dark side of his soul, the part corrupted by Bane's curse, the side which he has fought most of his life, is pulled free from his body. Above the din of the shrieking dark soul, Andy could dimly hear Eleandra steady chants turned into a cruel laughter.
Looking up weakly, Andy could dimly see another figure standing before him. His own dark soul. The one that continually hungers for war, carnage and blood lust. It appearance is identical to that of his own. Wavy blond hair and pale skinned. His stance is firm and even his robe is identical to that of his own. But where Andy's eyes are warm with compassion, this being's eyes are filled with cold hatred and battle lust. While Andy always have a gentle smile upon his lips, the being's lips are continually twisted into a cruel sneer. This is a being of pure evil and pure hatred - a tool of chaos and destruction.
Deep within his weakened mind, Andy wept as he realized the terror that is about to befall the Realm.
Elaendra laughed in delight as she marveled at her own handy work. For years she has strived to perfect this spell. For years she has dreamt for such a day to come upon her. It worked! The spell worked perfectly. She has separated the dark part of the soul of a Child of Tempus, the part that was cursed by Bane. Now, the soul stood before her, a being bent only for destruction and chaos. There shall be no mercy within him, no compassion... only death, blood and carnage.
The dark being stood before her, studying his surrounding and his new form.
Eleandra stepped forward, eyes bent to stare warily upon this beast. It is one thing to bring it out from the mortal shell where it was once trapped within. Controlling such beast is another.
"That's right, my beautiful Dark Avenger," she purred softly, "make peace with your new form and surrounding. Then cometh forth to my side, for there is much task that lay before you."
The being looked up slowly towards the enchantress. Then, slowly, his lips turned into a rictus snarl and then, with a fastness of a lightning, it hurled itself towards the enchantress.
"Eleandra, look out!" Sememmon shouted.
But the enchantress simply stood her ground, watching the approaching beast in amusement. Then circle of runes on the floor flared out with brilliant white light and the beast was thrown back. Snarling in pure anger, the beast slammed itself against the barrier once more and again, it was repelled back. This goes on several times, with the beast trying unsuccessfully to find a weakness within the barrier that surrounds it. Finally, it grew quiet and gazed at the watching enchantress.
"Thou hast brought me out." The beast hissed. Its eyes blazing with hatred.
"Yes," Eleandra answered wryly.
"I shalt be thy doom." The beast simply stated.
"Don't be too sure."
"Thou hast no knowledge of the power I hold within me." The beast smiled as he slowly gathered the power of Tempus within him. "Thy barrier is nothing to me."
Eleandra raised one eyebrow mockingly.
"Again, don't be too sure." She said coolly. Then, she reached upon and caresses the blue sapphire stone hanging from the gold chain that hangs around her neck. "Your soul cannot survive alone. It is still connected to your former shell."
She nodded at the still form of Andy.
"I cannot hurt you." She spoke again to the beast. "Any injure inflicted upon you are merely transferred to your former shell. But your former shell also holds your life force. You share your life force with Andy. You two are different... and yet you are the same."
She held up the sapphire.
"I have bound his mind within this stone. And through him, I can exert my will to control you if I want too. Surely you don't want me to do that, don't you?"
The beast growled as he fixed his glare to the stone.
"What is it that thou want from me? I shalt not be controlled by anyone."
Elaendra smiled.
"Oh I will never dream of controlling powerful creature such as you. Only if I need to. Let us hope it will not come to that." She replied before fixing a hard glare into those cold eyes. "Instead, I wish to make a pact."
"A pact?"
"Aye. You shall perform any favor I ask of you, in return, you shall roam the Realm freely to wreak all the carnage as you wish, with an army of your own."
The beast remains silent for a time, as he stared unblinkingly at the enchantress. Even as Eleandra watched him, she could sense his mind whirl as he continue to think of a way to destroy her. Elaendra smiled. This is a dangerous beast indeed.
"Agreed." The beast replied at last, not breaking its glare at the enchantress. "Now, release me."
Elaendra looked at him coolly, careful not to show her fear. Near her, she could feel Sememmon tensing readily, prepared for any treachery on the beast's part.
With a nod, the enchantress lowered the barrier, and the beast strode out, eyes intent upon the enchantress. The enchantress simply looked at him expressionlessly, her body erect as she watched him challengingly.
The beast simply smiled.
"Sleep lightly from now on, beautiful one." Said the beast. "I meant what I said. Sooner or later, I shalt be thy doom."
"I'll eagerly wait for such day to come." Elaendra replied sweetly. "Just be wary that it is not I who shall be YOUR doom."
The beast laughed.
"What about him? Any suggestion as to what I should do to him?" asked the enchantress as she nodded towards Andy.
The beast fell silent in mid-laughter.
"He is weak!" he spat out in disgust. "For years I struggle against him. His head is filled with nothing but honor and justice. He is a fool."
"Let him bears the burden of my pain." The beast continues. "It is the least of what he deserves."
Somewhere in the Stonelands...
Another explosion in the distance shook the whole tunnel.
"That's the seventh explosion so far in an hour. They're gaining fast!" Howie shouted as they ran through the catacomb.
"Can anyone do something about it?" AJ yelled from the front. "Slow them down or something?"
"I cannot set anymore traps!" Beth yelled back. "It'll take time! Just keep running!"
"Tess?" Howie yelled at the warrior-mage running beside him. "Any useful spell?"
Tess answer came slowly in between her gasps as she struggled to run and talk at the same time.
"I have gasp several... warding spell... gasp... but... I didn't memorized... any of it..."
Another explosion rocked the whole place, followed by some shouts in the distance.
"That's the last trap." Said Beth. "Run faster, all of you!!"
The thief sprang forward into the gloomy darkness of the catacomb.
Back in the Zhentarim fortress, Damien stood quietly in the middle of his laboratory. His hands hovered just above his scrying crystal and from his lips; whispers of arcane phrases slipped out as he work his scrying spell.
The wizard's eyebrow furrowed in a frown as he exerts all of his concentration and will into the spell. Divination has never been his strongest skills. Even with the aid of his scrying crystal sphere, he still finds it hard to focus the spell to do as it should do.
Blue-white mist swirl within the sphere as Damien struggle to scrye the position of the escaped prisoners. Sweat rolled down his forehead and cheek but still he struggle. This has been his third attempt to scrye their position. The last two attempts have failed miserably resulting in him scrying some place else - the first has been an empty field and the second showed him a brawl that is going on in some inn in Cormyr.
"Come on, damn you!" he muttered under his breath as he bent all of his mind, will and soul into the effort.
The mist still swirl and the glow began to brighten even further. Then, gradually, the mist began to clear and Damien lean forward to gaze into the revealed image...
Deina rushed forward through the tunnels angrily. This whole ordeal is slowly becoming a nightmare to her. Already she has lost about two dozens soldiers from the explosive traps that have been left laying around all along the tunnel.
Studying the triggered traps, she decided that these are not Tessaril's handiwork. It looks more like a thief's work... a very skilled one too because no one seem to notice the traps until it was too late; which is the main reason why she walk at the very back of the crowd and gladly allow the other warriors to walk on first. So there was someone who helped Tessaril and the others to escape.
After walking for some distance and still there are no triggered traps, the priestess judged that the thief must have stopped setting up additional traps.
"I don't think there are anymore traps laying about," she barks from the back. "Move, everyone! Quickly."
Muttering under their breath, the warriors rushed forward.
Deina began to run as the warriors rushed on into the darkness. In her mind, she fervently hopes Damien has more luck in finding them then her. For better or worst, the last thing she wants is to greet Manshoon's arrival empty-handed.
"How... far... have... we... run?" Tessaril gasped out as they rushed along through the dust-filled tunnel.
"Don't know, don't care," AJ replied as he held out the burning torch as far forward as he can so that he can see what lay before them. "Just keep running."
"I... don't... think... I... can... run... anymore!" Tessaril groaned.
Howie reached out to hold her hand.
"We cannot stop now, Tess. Just hold on."
"That's... easy... for... you... to... say."
"Hey!" they heard Beth cried out.
"What is it?" asked Howie, slowing down.
"No, don't stop running!" Beth replied as he held out her hand. "Can you feel that? A breeze! Fresh air!"
"Really?" said Derek.
"Aye! I feel it too!" cried Zen. "There must be an opening nearby!"
They rushed along in hopeful silence for several moments. Then as they rounded a corner, AJ cried out happily.
"There it is! We're free! We're... oh FUCK!"
AJ halted abruptly in mid-running, causing the rest to crash onto him.
"Jesus..." Howie spat out as he tumbled, armor and all, to the floor. Near him, he heard Tessaril let out a VERY unlady-like oath as she too fell to the ground, with Beth royally lay on top of her.
"Arrgh! I have dirt in my mouth!" Tessaril moaned as she spat desperately to the ground.
"Umm... guys... actually, that's the least of our problem." Said AJ softly.
Howie slowly look at what AJ is staring and let out a groan. Near him, Beth cursed.
Before him stood the wizard, Damien, flanked by two fully equipped Zhentarim war-masters and two skeletal warriors. Behind them, the sun shines brightly through a huge opening that leads to the Stonelands outside.
"Escape?" Damien smiled evilly as his finger began to move in the gestures of spellcasting. "I think not!"
With that, the Zhentarim war-masters and the skeletal warriors began to rush forward and Damien's voice began to rise in spellcasting...