6th Day of Needfest, 566 CY
The Brass Dragon Inn, Furyondy
It had in fact been the supposedly dead Argo Bigfellow Junior who had once said of Elrohir that the ranger was at his best in the fraction of a second.
The ranger had turned scarlet when he had first heard that, but his wife Talass had quickly explained the true meaning of that statement, and it had nothing to do with Elrohir's first guess.
It had simply been an expansion on the Aardian ranger's best-known quality; that unexplainable ability that made him function best in a crises. Elrohir was forever castigating himself for his supposed failures as a leader but as everyone around him knew all too well, when a leader was needed most no one could match his instincts for always doing the right thing.
And now once again in that fraction of a second as Dudraug leapt at his master with a raging bloodlust, Elrohir did his best thinking by not thinking and although the result would be dismissed as indecision or fear by his enemies, his friends who called themselves in private the Tri-Worldians knew better.
Elrohir choose to do absolutely nothing.
Dudraug never reached him.
The cooshee collided with something invisible right in front of him and that something then collided with Elrohir, knocking both of them down to the grass.
Elrohir couldn't tell what was going on. His own world was a maelstrom of confusing sights, sounds and struggles. He was locked in a tangled pile of arms and legs with a person wearing chainmail armor and carrying a small metal shield and who was attempting to stand up in pretty much the same space that Elrohir was trying to claim for his very own.
Knowing that this person, whomever he was, was no friend, Elrohir grabbed the man's left shoulder and pressed down, trying to use this leverage to rise to his feet.
The man's head spun around to face him and Elrohir saw, peeking out from underneath the coif that he wore, the black curls and snarling tanned face of Sir Corvis of Elredd.
Screams were filling Elrohir's ears. Dozens of screams. In addition, it sounded like most, if not all of his friends were yelling or shouting.
There was a lot more going on here than just Sir Corvis. A lot more.
But then a diamond pattern of green and yellow filled his field of vision and Elrohir's world exploded into pain as Sir Corvis bashed his shield into the ranger's face.
Lying semi-stunned on the ground, Elrohir could hear Dudraug growling as the elven hound attacked the fake knight again as the latter rose to his feet and took a step back. Judging by the lack of screams emanating from Corvis, the ranger judged the cooshee hadn't been able to penetrate the chain armor of the bard/fighter/rogue/whatever-the-hell-he-was.
Elrohir then cried out as the blade of a longsword chopped down onto the shoulder plate of his plate mail from above. Although the blow did not draw blood, it was immensely painful and did nothing to help the pounding in his skull that was still making it impossible to move or think clearly.
He was, however, able to make out Sir Corvis' voice.
"A flashing steel blade Your victimhood compels you Give me my obi."
Yanigasawa Tojo, who had insisted on stationing himself by the front door of Aslan's cabin; a good eighty feet from Elrohir's position, had nonetheless spotted the scene by his team leader instantly and the samurai's feet were already in motion when he heard a voice coming from behind the cabin where he knew no one was supposed to be.
The samurai cursed in Nipponese as he turned to his right and dashed around towards the back of the stone building, drawing his katana as he did so.
He stopped dead when he reached the back corner.
A giant cat, whose head was level with the samurai's own despite being on its haunches, was sitting about ten feet away from him.
Tojo had just recognized the cat as the dire lion effigy that the gnome they'd met at Ironstead called "Tikklun" when he saw the small humanoid himself standing next to his mechanical creation.
Fenlun Barlun Urlan Effigist Zimbalist Herlendal bowed low, sweeping his hat off his head.
"Greetings, oh honorable samurai from Aarde."
A wide grin appeared on that small, dark, bearded face.
"Don't mind me. I'm just here to reclaim my property."
Elrohir knew he was exposing himself again to Sir Corvis by getting up but there was nothing for it.
He dodged the fighter's horizontal swordstroke as best he could as he rose and again avoided having any serious blood spilled, but Corvis' blade cut through the left side of his plate mail hard enough to leave a shallow gash. The ranger finally managed to partially quiet the ringing klaxon in his head and pulled Gokasillion from its sheath but couldn't find an opening to strike as Corvis now had his shield in prime parrying position.
Elrohir did not like his own position; sandwiched between Sir Corvis and the table carrying the coffin.
Screams and shouts continued all around him, but he didn't dare turn his head to look.
The elf bothered Laertes.
Part of it was racial, pure and simple; the half-orc knew that. He'd never met an elf who hadn't looked down his or her nose at him to some degree, so he'd always returned the favor, or at least tried to ignore it.
And certainly, one elf out of a crowd of sixty humans stood out, but he'd been clad in the same simple worker's garments as his companions and carried no weapons, so he hadn't warranted any further attention.
He had however, been one of the very few people who had returned the half-orc's intimidating glower during the funeral without the slightest trace of fear.
Like everyone else, Laertes attention had been riveted by Dudraug's unbelievably loud bark and then the cooshee's charge. Elrohir and (Laertes still couldn't believe it) none other than Sir Corvis were battling now.
The fighter had been about to run to his friend's aid when the crowd, the nearest edge of which was only fifteen feet away from his current position, began screaming.
That same elf in the crowd was now somehow clad in studded leather armor. Both a longbow and an enormous double-bladed greataxe were strapped across his back.
And he was casting some kind of spell.
There was no visible effect but now the elf was taking his longbow in hand and drawing an arrow from his quiver.
The elf was standing at the back edge of the crowd about twenty feet from Laertes, so the half-orc ran forward, skirting the rear of the crowd as well and jabbed at the elf with his shortspear as soon as he got within range but with all the innocents around the space available was limited and the his strike didn't have the force to penetrate the elf's armor.
For a reason that he could not for the life of him articulate, Laertes thought the elf's broad smile did not seem very elf-like.
Then he noticed one of the other men in the crowd, standing near the elf, was not shouting in terror or confusion or trying to back away from the battle.
This man, who had worn a simple gray shirt and trousers and who also had been unarmed, now sported studded leather armor just like the elf. In addition, a buckler was strapped to his left arm and his right hand held a longsword.
The man burst out of the crowd but just far away from Laertes that the teenager couldn't get a strike in. With surprising speed, the man ran in a tight circle around the half-orc and then came in so that Laertes was directly between him and the elf.
"Ahh, your death attack," Laertes heard the elf behind him say fondly. "I never get tired of that, Olec."
The half-orc moved to get his new masterwork Azure Order shield into position but all of a sudden it seemed like either he was moving in slow motion or this man called "Olec" had been hasted, because his sword bypassed the fighter's defenses with ridiculous ease.
Only a last-second, torso-twisting maneuver by the ex-lumberjack prevented the tip of Olec's longsword from penetrating straight through to Laertes' heart. As it was, the blade pierced his armor and plunged deep into the right side of his upper chest, near the shoulder.
Laertes screamed twice, once at the initial stab and then again as his would-be assassin yanked his blade free. Blood spurted from the wound in a fine spray.
The half-orc jerked his head back and forth, desperately trying to keep both of his enemies in view. He was still upright but knew instinctively one more blow like that would kill him where he stood.
A flying sling bullet passed his field of vision. Laertes couldn't tell who had hurled it, but the missile had actually passed through the crowd, flying among at least a dozen people before missing the elf's head so closely that his long blond hair was disturbed.
But it was still a miss.
Dudraug's initial bark had startled Aslan so badly that the paladin had jerked backwards, the helm of telepathy that he had just picked up falling out of his hands.
The paladin thus had a blurry but very close-up view of the heavy flail as the metallic spiked ball at the end of its chain passed inches from his face and smashed into the coffin in front of him instead.
Realizing he had no time in which to attempt to retrieve his great helm, Aslan drew his sword and readied his shield as he whirled around to confront his attacker.
Still clad in his elaborate but dented full plate armor, Rashlot grinned evilly at the paladin from underneath his opened visor.
"Battle, bloodshed and eventual victory," the Hextorian cleric said, his face almost glowing with rapture at the thought. "Are there any more pleasing sounds?"
Rashlot's expression then changed to one of mock concern.
"Of course, if you'd rather…" he said, raising his left hand to reveal a set of metallic wind chimes dangling from it.
"…I can play you a different tune."
Tojo dug his feet into the grass and adjusted his grip on his katana.
The gnome noticed.
"I'd just as soon not have any blood spilled here," Herlendal said, waving one hand towards the inn while replacing his pointed hat with the other. "I'm not here to kill anyone- that's not my style. I just want what's mine, that's all."
The party had taken the rowbaht torso from it's place in their underground storage cellar several months ago simply because they had needed the space and then buried it in the same spot behind Aslan's cabin where his wardog Mirage was buried and also featured the headstone to Hyzenthlay.
Somehow, this gnome had discovered what they had done.
Tojo shook his head. "I cannot permit that."
The smile slipped off the effigy master's face.
"Major Standish had no right to give away that device," the gnome said in as serious a tone as the samurai had ever heard him use. "I wasn't there when he did so, if you'll recall. Imagine my surprise when I returned to Ironstead to find that the very mechanism that he'd hired me to examine was gone."
"Did not major pay you for your examination?"
"Of course he did," Fenlun replied, dismissing that with an annoyed shrug, "but I hadn't yet concluded it."
"Major seem to think examination comprete when he give device to Saxmund-san," Tojo replied. "She give it to us for safekeeping and here it wirr remain."
The gnome gave a sad shake of his head.
"That's not," he said softly, "what I was hoping to hear, samurai."
"Then must respectfury request," Tojo responded, "that you conduct another examination, Master Effigist."
His eyes narrowed.
"This one on your ears."
Herlendal stared at him.
"Everybody's a comedian these days," he complained, turning to the dire lion.
"Tikklun," he commanded. "Remove the samurai's funny bone- with your teeth."
Tojo's katana intercepted the mechanical beast as it gave a surprisingly life-like roar and lunged at him. The sidewise strike tore open a gash in the lion's mouth as it came for him, revealing a momentary glimpse of a cavity filled with gears, levers, switches and other unidentifiable machinery.
And then with stunning speed the jaws closed on his right arm, the steel teeth sinking deep. Both giant claws then slashed at the samurai's torso in an X-pattern.
Tojo's world turned red.
Cygnus was angry beyond words.
Angry that he had so terribly misinterpreted Yenom's last divination.
Angry that their enemies had attacked before he had predicted- and hoped- they would.
Angry that he had wasted so many of his precious spell slots on the disguise self illusion, which was now utterly useless.
But most of all, Cygnus was enraged that, once again, their enemies were attacking them at their own home.
In fact, there was only thing at the moment that the tall mage had to be grateful for and that was the fact that he was not a paladin.
Because he knew he'd lose that exalted status in an instant.
Cygnus moved into position, pulled the bit of fur and tiny glass rod from his spell component pouch that he'd ensured to recover from Naury's crushed body and cast his lightning bolt in a straight line at both Rashlot and Sir Corvis.
The bolt somehow missed Sir Corvis entirely, the evil faux nobleman twisting his body sinuously in much the same fashion that the Slave Lord Nerelas had done all those months ago.
Rashlot, however, suffered a direct hit. To Aslan's astonishment, not only did the entire force of the electrical bolt seemed to conduct directly into the cleric's body via his field plate, but the heat of the discharge actually seemed to melt his armor onto his body, at least partially. The priest seemed to be barely alive at this point.
Aslan, like Cygnus, was not feeling any regret.
Zantac was feeling panic.
Enemies old and new were materializing all around them and he didn't know which way to turn.
He wanted to cast his shield on himself to compliment his mage armor (and just in case anyone started throwing magic missiles his way) but that would take seconds he didn't have.
Tojo, a good ninety feet away, clearly seemed to be in the worst shape. That mechanical monstrosity was worrying the samurai like a chew toy and even from here his blood loss was obvious.
Zantac broke out in a dead run towards Aslan's cabin. After about thirty feet he was just able to make out the small form of that damnable gnome position himself to the rear of his effigy, presumably to protect himself from Tojo in the unlikely scenario that the samurai broke free from the dire lion's jaws.
That did, however, put that pint-sized annoyance in a direct line for Zantac.
Another piece of fur and a tiny glass rod made their appearance.
Through that one small patch of Yanigasawa Tojo's vision that wasn't stained scarlet from his own blood, the samurai saw Zantac stop running and cast.
Tojo took a guess.
Jamming his katana into the opening he'd made by the lion's mouth, the samurai twisted the blade and pulled, using it as a lever. Prying the effigy's jaws apart, Tojo rolled clear just as the lightning bolt passed right over him.
The effigy, not being able to feel pain, did not roar but the dire lion's body seemed to jerk spasmodically, as if circuits were being triggered out of turn.
Orange sparks exploded in a shower from the beast, but it was still intact.
Tojo couldn't see Fenlun Herlendal from his current position but the screech he heard coming from the gnome, who might or might not have been casting a spell, was a clear indication he'd been hit by the bolt as well.
The samurai never even considered feeling regret.
Zantac pumped his fist in the air, but his jubilation died as he saw Golbi, Fenlun's spark guardian hawk familiar (whom he'd clean forgotten about) start a strafing run towards the mage from a height of about eighty feet.
The mechanical bird opened its beak. A reddish glow was visible within.
Nesco Cynewine was terrified but at least she wasn't surprised.
The ranger took no pleasure that her gut feeling that their enemies weren't going to wait until after the funeral to attack had been proven correct.
And she took even less pleasure from the fact that she had correctly guessed the identity of the giant invisible boot-wearer.
Standing twelve feet tall, the mercane Agarth regarded Lady Cynewine with that arrogant, condescending expression that she knew all too well.
The mercane again had bodyguards, but it wasn't the Journeymen.
Two human males stood in front of the planar merchant. Each wore what looked like gleaming-new full plate with visored helms, although both were up at the moment. One showed a pale face that might have been Suloise, while the other was a dark brown that could have indicated an Olman native from Hepmonaland.
Of course, given the far-flung reach of the mercanes, it was possible that one or both of these individuals might not be an Oerth native at all.
Both carried sheathed bastard swords, heavy shields strapped across their backs and had light crossbows in hand.
Pointed at her.
"Do not interfere, Lady Cynewine," Agarth announced in his sonorous voice. "I am here only because of the necessity of possession and the fulfillment of a contract. Stand aside and there will be no loss of life."
His bespectacled eyes took in the battles raging all around.
"At least," he amended with that disquieting U-shaped smile, "not from me."
The mercane began to move off towards Aslan's cabin, his bodyguards following in formation and keeping their crossbows trained on Nesco. They passed within twenty feet of Zantac, who looked at them in alarm, but they seemed to consider the Willip Wizard worthy of nothing more than a contemptuous glance.
Nesco was torn. She didn't consider the rowbaht torso to be worth anyone's life and to be sure the worst of the fighting seemed to be occurring near the inn, but Tojo also seemed to be in the worst shape of anyone.
Then she saw Laertes and the two figures flanking him.
The ranger didn't recognize the half-orc's two opponents but the greataxe strapped to the elf's back was all she needed to make her decision.
Nesco had listened well to Aslan's recounting of his and Caroline's encounter at the Castle Chauv.
She prayed that Tojo would forgive her.
And as Nesco Cynewine ran towards the human who had just stabbed Laertes (her closest target), drawing her sword as she did so, she tried something she had never done before in battle.
She tried to clear her head.
Not thinking about the endless, fruitless hours she had spent training with her new weapon over the past year.
Not thinking about the impossible odds she and her friends were facing.
Not thinking about the tactical situation, who was where and what they were doing.
Not even thinking about what she was doing.
In almost a dream-like state of slowness, she noticed the man turning to face her.
Saw his sword quickly come up to parrying position.
Nesco made no move whatsoever to bypass his block.
Feeling replaced thought as she swung and for an instant, the only face she saw…
… was that of Captain Stalworth.
Sundancer turned Olec Hardson's sword to glass.
The assassin's eyes widened in astonishment as his weapon; his magic weapon no less, explode into a thousand shards in a glittery explosion.
And the crowd of five dozen people, unsure of which way to try and flee from threats on all sides, apparently took this as their cue to bolt en masse.
The elf that Nesco was reasonably certain was in fact the Emerald Serpent was buffeted on all sides as the mob surged past. He barely managed to hold his ground even as the effect from his last spell now became clear.
A giant viper suddenly appeared behind Nesco and Laertes.
It may not have been quite dragon-sized (unless one was thinking of a younger dragon like Bellicose) but it certainly was at least ogre-sized and a terrifying sight. It's unearthly, slit-pupiled red eyes gazed down at the human and the half-orc without mercy or pity and it's hissing was unexpectedly loud; enough so to overwhelm the additional screams from the crowd that was running away now as fast as their feet could carry them.
Nesco wouldn't actually say she was pleased that the giant snake, seemingly acting on incomprehensible instructions shouted by the elf, chose to attack her instead of Laertes or the tail end of the fleeing crowd, but she didn't want anyone else put in danger.
So that was something.
She'd never tell anyone of course, but Lady Cynewine felt slightly less selfless as the fangs, dripping with venom, opened at least five feet wide as the monster lunged for her.
Nesco sidestepped, blocked the attack with her own shield, then slashed at the head as it tried to slide past the obstruction at her.
Sir Corvis slowly backed away from Elrohir and then- incongruously, the ranger thought- resheathed his sword as he looked at the battles raging all around him.
"Confront your demons In the open arena They are but shadows."
Elrohir cursed himself.
He should have known. The accursed bard was using his damn haiku to inspire his allies.
A quick glance slightly to his left showed Tojo retreating (temporarily, he was sure) from the dire lion effigy and ducking around to the far corner of Aslan's cabin. Elrohir wasn't sure what the samurai's strategy was but he know he was in no position to help.
He had to take care of this poetry-spouting turncoat first.
Elrohir didn't directly follow the retreating Corvis, but instead sidled around him, passing by Ukansis (who was currently chanting some prayer- bless, if the refreshed feeling that washed over him was any indication) and ending up that his foe had to turn to his left and rear to keep Elrohir in sight.
He was a little slow in doing so, however, as Gokasillion feinted and then came in low, slashing across the false knight's left thigh. Like the wound he had delivered to Elrohir, it wasn't serious, but it hurt.
Nesco had been expecting Laertes to retreat but the half-orc actually advanced on the giant snake.
The serpent lunged at him, but Laertes jabbed his shortspear right into the oncoming reptile's open jaws, causing the snake to rear back, it's dripping venom now mixed with blood.
Now bereft of his melee weapon, Olec backed away from Nesco, taking his composite longbow over his shoulder and, like his master, notching an arrow.
Lady Cynewine wasn't particularly perturbed by this. If Laertes' wound was any indication, this Hardson fellow was probably much more dangerous in melee than he was at range.
A second later, Nesco discovered how wrong she was.
The first arrow, following a trajectory that the ranger would have sworn curved downwards to bypass her shield, had just struck her in the stomach when she heard the sound of Olec's second arrow being released, which struck her full in the chest.
Pain flooded Nesco's world. Her chain links prevented any lethal penetration but after yanking both arrows out Nesco could see the slowly growing patches of red.
The words barely managed to emerge from Rashlot's burned and charred lips.
"See you," he wheezed, "on the Endless Battlefields, paladin."
He shook his left hand, producing a tinkling sound from the wind chimes…
… until Aslan's downstroke severed the cleric's arm at the shoulder.
Blood spurting from the open wound, Rashlot staggered several steps backwards, his gray eyes staring at the wind chimes lying silent and still on the grass before collapsing in a twisted heap on the ground.
"Sorry," Aslan said coldly. "I've got a different plane planned for my retirement."
Nesco saw the sling bullet ricochet hard off the fiendish viper's head.
Turning to look west along the front wall of the Brass Dragon, the ranger saw another bullet take flight from Gastar's sling and embed itself from forty feet out into the iridescent green scales of the summoned monster's neck.
The creature hissed horribly as it coiled and uncoiled, thrashing around in obvious pain.
Gastar was good with that sling, Nesco had to admit. Either he had trained Argo in its use or vice-versa.
Dudraug rushed up to attack Sir Corvis again and this time, flanking the rogue with his master Elrohir, managed to clamp his jaws directly over the wound on his left thigh that Gokasillion had made earlier.
Corvis screamed in pain, all thoughts of poetry forgotten.
Cygnus looked about for new foes to attack.
Sir Corvis was closest, but Elrohir and Dudraug had him surrounded and Aslan, who was now available after dispatching Rashlot, was sure to go to the ranger's aid, so the tall mage looked further afield.
Agarth was a nice big, tempting target but so was the giant snake currently battling Nesco and Laertes. Cygnus ran forward northeast so as to get the viper within range of his scorching rays but as he did so he noticed a figure he had not seen before.
Lying on the ground about ten feet northwest of his new position was a figure clad in full plate mail; neither as embellished as Rashlot's had been but not as damaged either. It appeared the man (if it was a human) had been knocked down by the westward-fleeing crowd.
The man held a heavy flail in his left hand and a steel shield emblazoned with the symbol of Hextor in his right. His visor was down but the figure lay motionless.
Unconscious? Cygnus thought.
Then he remembered Grimdegn's note to his sister Nesco.
This must be Excel, then. That other priest of Hextor. But is he dead, or…
"He's held!"
Cygnus looked over. Standing about ten feet from the prone Excel was Yenom, who smiled at the wizard and gave him the thumbs-up sign.
"Thanks!" replied Cygnus, smiling.
"If you've got something potent left," the cleric of Zilchus advised, his expression now grim again, "I'd suggest you use it there." He pointed towards the brawl around the giant snake. "Based on Aslan's description, I'm pretty sure that elf is the Emerald Serpent himself!"
The magic-user's head snapped around.
The elf screamed as two twin scorching rays of fire caught him in the face and neck.
He did not drop but when the rays had discharged glared with hatred at the tall mage and then looked back at Nesco and Laertes.
Both the ranger and the fighter could see that the flames had burnt away much of the elf's disguise.
Slit-pupiled, yellow eyes glared out at them from a burnt, scaly face.
"All bets," hissed the Emerald Serpent, "are now off."
Zantac knew what he had to do.
Knowing he'd probably be sorry for it sooner than later, the Willip Wizard ignored the spark guardian in the sky above him and moved towards Aslan's cabin, although he had to adjust his path to avoid coming to close to Agarth and his bodyguards, who pivoted to point their crossbows at him but still held their fire.
"I have no obligation to protect the gnome, Zantac," he heard Agarth say, "but if you interfere in my business here, you will not live long enough to regret it."
"Love you too, big guy," the mage muttered under his breath as he pointed at his target and cast.
The scorching ray seared Tikklun's surface, burning the faux fur off to reveal blackened metal, some of which was now smoking.
Agarth and his hired protection had advanced to within twenty-five feet of Fenlun Herlendal, who continued to cower behind his dire lion machine.
"You do not have it yet?" the mercane rumbled.
Scorch marks evident over much of his body, the gnome looked up at the towering figure of the planar merchant.
"I've been a little busy," he replied with a sour expression, which then lightened.
"But don't worry. I've subcontracted out."
A dire badger suddenly materialized between Tikklun and the back wall of Aslan's cabin.
"Dig, boy," Fenlun said, pointing to the ground by the summoned creature. "Dig it up for me."
As a shower of dirt exploded from the force of the creature's powerful, burrowing claws, a crafty expression suddenly came over the effigy master's face and his gaze slid to the northwest. Although the corner of the paladin's cabin cut his direct line of sight, the gnome's wide smile returned.
"Show him how real you are, Golbi," Fenlun whispered.
Zantac cried out in pain as a line of red and purple sparks, much longer, brighter, and hotter than he remembered them, slammed into him from the metallic hawk flying overhead. Each one felt like a jolt of electricity, causing his muscles to spasm as well as his skin to show scorch marks of his own.
By the gods, I hate that gnome, Zantac thought.
Tikklun lumbered into view, heading directly for him.
But not, the wizard thought with a sinking feeling, nearly as much as I'm about to hate his pet.
The claw that swiped his face as the dire lion attacked, despite Zantac's best attempt to dodge, did not in fact rip off the mage's head.
But given his pain, he wished it had.
Like Tojo before him, Zantac's world turned red.
Knowing now what this man was capable of with a composite longbow, Nesco wanted to rush Olec Hardson but she couldn't bear the thought of leaving Laertes to face both the Emerald Serpent and his summoned monster alone. Knowing the former was far more dangerous, Lady Cynewine allowed herself one deep breath (which helped less than she hoped due to her chest and stomach wounds) and moved to engage what Aslan had called "some kind of snake creature."
Ignoring the viper's attempts to bite her over the half-orc's head, Nesco came up alongside Laertes and slashed at the Serpent.
Up until the last second, Nesco thought she had missed. The Serpent seemed to have almost a limitless power to move itself out of the way of incoming blows, but Sundancer travelled just a few inches further than the "elf" was able to dodge, and the sword cut deep into its right side.
But then something unexpected and deeply disturbing happened.
The Emerald Serpent's scream was louder than Nesco had been expecting and it seemed to go on for longer than was warranted.
It almost seemed as if the Serpent was somehow enjoying the pain and wanted to prolong it.
Then, as the ranger watched, a viscous gray liquid; almost a sludge, seemed to ooze from the gash in the Serpent's side and as it dripped off, Nesco saw that most of the wound had healed.
The creature finally stopped screaming, eyed Lady Cynewine and smiled.
"The power of pain," he said softly. "Ask your young friend Tadoa to explain it to you sometime."
The giant viper suddenly hissed more loudly than ever as the tip of a shortspear protruded from it's stomach and then withdrew.
As Nesco and Laertes watched, blood spurted out from the wound; the snake writhed and twisted and then abruptly vanished.
Ukansis, now visible from the far side of where the summoned monster had been, sported a savage smile as he gripped his bloody weapon tightly.
"Let's hunt some snake."
"Amen, brother!" came the swift reply.
Yenom was approaching as well, casting a prayer on his mace as he did so.
"You're finished, you traitor!" snarled Elrohir at Sir Corvis.
His opponent gave a short, sardonic laugh.
"Oh, the rebuke of the righteous!" Corvis spat out. "I called you a corpse-stripper once, Elrohir, and that's all you are and ever will be! You and your kind are nothing but hypocrites! You censure me for stealing Agarth's chest and then take my obi without a second thought- what great and noble heroes you are!"
"You've no idea who you've allied yourself with, you fool!" Elrohir shouted back. "The Emerald Serpent betrays his allies on a whim!"
Corvis' response was to launch himself into a tumbling roll off to the west, towards the fallen body of Rashlot. Neither Elrohir's sword nor Dudraug's jaws were able to land a hit on the rogue as he came up beside the still-bleeding supine form of the cleric.
But just before he sprang back up to his feet, one hand had reached out and snatched the chimes of the mephit.
The Emerald Serpent backed away from Nesco and Laertes. Although he still had his bow out, the creature did not loose an arrow but rather glanced over his shoulder and made a quick gesture.
Excel, now only about ten feet from the Serpent, began to move.
"Damn it!" yelled Yenom.
Yanigasawa Tojo quietly made his way along the back edge of Aslan's cabin until he reached the far corner.
He peered around to see Fenlun Herlendal, his face wreathed in an eager smile as he watched his axiomatic dire badger digging furiously. Small bones which Tojo guessed belonged to Aslan's late wardog Mirage were flying helter-skelter.
Tojo's mouth tightened. He knew first-hand what it was like fighting this type of beast.
But at least this time, the samurai thought while permitting himself a wry smile, he wasn't stark naked.
Elrohir rushed at Sir Corvis and attacked again, scoring a slash across the fighter's chest, and cutting a gash in his studded leather. The cut was deep enough to draw more blood.
Breathing heavily, Corvis bared his teeth at Elrohir but said nothing.
"Laertes!" shouted Nesco. "You can't hurt either of these two!" She indicated Olec Hardson and the Emerald Serpent. "We need you elsewhere; go!"
The half-orc was not at all happy at Nesco's proclamation. He felt he was more than up to the task of battling these two people; after all, they were only wearing studded leather- the same as himself.
But he knew magic was probably involved as well and he did trust Lady Cynewine's judgement, so he settled for a deep scowl and looked around for more likely adversaries.
It didn't take long to spot one.
Laertes had run perhaps sixty feet towards Tikklun when two arrows hit him squarely in the back.
The half-orc took one more halting step and then crumpled to the ground.
Olec Hardson was still laughing hysterically when Gastar charged into him with his sword drawn.
The cut was a minor one, but it was still the first blood drawn on Olec today and he was not happy about it.
"ASLAN!"
The paladin looked over at Elrohir's scream and followed his pointing figure towards the unmoving form of Laertes.
Aslan's light blue eyes widened in shock and then narrowed in determination.
And then he was gone
The paladin appeared next to Laertes and immediately dropped to his knees, yanked the twin arrows from the teenager's back and then let his Talent flow, not relaxing until he saw the half-orc stir.
"Thank you, Athlan," Laertes said after he was able to breathe and talk again.
"Do you expect me to tell Sir Juntaros that I couldn't keep his newest recruit alive for a single day?" said Aslan, trying to force a weak smile onto his face.
The paladin decided not to tell the youth that he had been moments away from death when he had arrived.
Olec caught Gastar's next swing on his buckler and was about to fire an arrow at the ranger at point-blank range when he suddenly froze up, becoming still as a statue.
Gastar whirled around to his right to see Cygnus, now strolling off to the east about thirty feet off.
"Hold person," the tall mage told him. "Much better to be on the casting than the receiving end, believe me."
Zantac made no pretense of hiding his fear as he ran up and behind Aslan.
"Hold still for a moment," he told the puzzled paladin, then stretched his right arm out across the paladin's shoulder to steady it and aimed at the advancing Tikklun.
Then Aslan realized that Zantac's face was so slashed and bloody that the Willip Wizard was having trouble seeing.
Zantac's second and last scorching ray struck the effigy straight in the face. The dire cat's face was now a burnt and twisted mockery of a real lion, but its obviously artificial eyes still glared balefully at the nearby trio.
Agarth moved up to stand next to the dire badger. His two bodyguards maintained a wall, standing next to the mercane, who turned his attention from the battle again back to the small effigy master.
"My patience grows short."
"Hold your whatever passes for horses where you come from," replied the gnome, walking over to the pit and looking down. "He just found it."
"Good," Agarth said succinctly, gesturing with his left hand which held his miniature chest.
The full-sized chest appeared on the ground next to the hole the badger had made.
Fenlun cast a spell and a translucent disk of energy appeared beneath the rowbaht torso and then slowly levitated up until it was just above ground level.
He then inclined his head and the dire badger climbed out and began moving around the mercane and towards Aslan, Zantac, and Laertes.
"What-"
Aslan shoved Zantac out of the way just as Golbi came out of his turn and fired another stream of sparks at the mage.
The paladin cried out as the hot sparks struck him, but he had not taken any damage yet so far and the effect was not that serious.
Then Tikklun came up.
Oh, this is going to hurt, thought Aslan.
He was right.
The paladin could not honesty recall any enemy he had fought in the past several years that moved at the speed of this machine, even as severely damaged as it was.
With the strength of a frost giant, Tikklun's one paw swatted away Aslan's attempt at a shield block while the other raked his chest with metallic claws, slicing through his plate mail.
Aslan knew he wouldn't be able to take much more of this.
Nesco moved to engage the Emerald Serpent again but not directly. Instead, she angled around him, so she was now standing to his south, with the door to the Brass Dragon about fifteen feet behind her opponent.
She cut his left arm by changing the direction of Sundancer's arc at the last moment and blood spurted from the limb. The Serpent looked furious but was no longer taunting her.
Nesco felt as much as glimpsed Ukansis coming up on her right flank.
Sir Corvis backed up and rang the wind chimes.
"Welcome to my party, Elrohir."
The Emerald Serpent took a step backwards towards the inn and issued the same greater command he had done in Chauv Castle.
"All of you," he shouted. "Drop your weapons!"
Nesco, Gastar and Ukansis all stared in disbelief at their hands as they opened, and their weapons dropped to the ground.
Fenlun Herlendal whirled to his left as he heard a terrifying battlecry and saw Yanigasawa Tojo tearing around the back corner of the stone cabin.
Directly at him.
For the first time in his life, the effigy master's eyes widened in horror as the fearsome figure came down at him without any of his creations around to intervene.
"Claws of the lion," Tojo growled.
In less than a second, the samurai's katana struck twice in an X-pattern. Blood spurted from the gnome's chest from two critical wounds.
"Help!" he shrieked.
Gokasillion bypassed Sir Corvis' parry and sank a full six inches into the rogue's left lung.
Elrohir could see his opponent was on his last legs but he couldn't let up. He knew mephits were about to start appearing and he had no idea what the daily summoning limit of these chimes were.
Time was not on the ranger's side.
Laertes had just gotten to his feet when he noticed the dire badger about twenty-five feet away now, heading towards him, Zantac and Aslan.
Gastar snatched his sword back and immediately swung at the held Olec. The weapon hit but it had been too quickly swung to deliver a lethal blow, although more blood did leak out from a fresh gash in Hardson's armor.
Aslan cursed.
There were just too many emergencies at one time vying for the paladin's attention.
The mechanical dire lion was the most immediate of course but that equally mechanical hawk couldn't be ignored either and it was over eighty feet up in the air.
Fenlun's summoned dire badger was on it's way and who knew what was happening back nearer the inn, with the Emerald Serpent, Olec Hardson and Sir Corvis.
Laertes was back up at full health but Zantac and Tojo were still in poor shape.
And then there was the signaling device for the Mary Celestial.
Aslan hadn't known Agarth long enough to get a real handle on his character or trustworthiness, but he had clearly aligned himself now with Fenlun Herlendal, just as he had aligned himself earlier with the treacherous and murderous Sir Corvis of Elredd.
And that put the mercane on the wrong side of the equation as far as Aslan was concerned.
Which meant letting him or any of his allies get their hands on the rowbaht torso was not an option.
No matter the cost.
No matter what might be lost.
"Zantac! Laertes!" Aslan shouted. "Get back to the inn! You need safety in numbers! I'll rejoin you as soon as I can!"
And he disappeared.
Aslan teleported right on to top of Fenlun's floating disk alongside the rowbaht torso. Their combined weight was apparently too much for the conjured disk as it slowly settled back down to the bottom of the five-foot deep pit dug by the badger.
The paladin looked up to see both Fenlun Herlendal and Agarth staring down at him in surprise.
Aslan raised his sword, blade pointing straight down.
"Thievery," "he shouted at the top of his lungs, "is not permitted at the Brass Dragon!"
More sparks and the strange sounds of exploding and burning machinery drowned out the anguished shouts of the mercane and the gnome as the tip of Aslan's blade cut clean through the rowbaht.
Dudraug came in again at Sir Corvis, but even his flanking position with his master wasn't quite enough as the bard was able to deflect the cooshee's lunge with his shield.
Zantac barely had time to process the paladin's disappearance when he saw, still through a bloodstained haze, the dire lion Tikklun once again approaching to attack.
Run? Is he kidding? I couldn't outrun that thing at full health! I'm going to-
Four streaks of white passed by the Willip Wizard: two to his left and two to his right.
All four magic missiles converged on the effigy.
More sparks erupted from the machine. Arcs of electricity began erupting from it.
The effigy's movements became jerky and spasmodic.
Black smoke poured from its mouth.
But it continued to stagger forward, a wretched mockery of a living being.
Zantac turned to look back to the northwest, towards the inn, to see Cygnus, who had run forward about thirty feet, glaring at his fellow mage with his hands on his hips.
"You think you might be able to finish it off now?" the tall mage asked.
Relief, gratitude and a small portion of annoyance shot through Zantac.
"Well, clearly you couldn't do it!"
The Willip Wizard was pointing at the approaching machine (Could this be considered a rowbaht as well? he wondered) when he felt Laertes' hand on his shoulder.
For some reason that the mage couldn't define, the half-orc suddenly seemed older than his sixteen years.
Calmer? More self-assured?
"Zantac," Laertes said. "Take out that hawk."
"But what about that lion?"
"You mean thith lion?" Laertes asked as he hurled his spear directly at the oncoming beast.
With a metallic clank, the shaft sank into Tikklun's forehead.
The machine stopped in its tracks and began to shake.
No. It wasn't shaking. It was vibrating.
Faster and faster the mechanism shivered, until it appeared almost blurred. An odd whining sound swiftly grew louder and louder and higher and higher in pitch.
And then with a massive boom, the dire lion effigy called Tikklun blew apart in a spectacular explosion.
Limbs, gears, levers, poles, rods, pulleys and all manner of indescribable machinery went sailing in all directions.
"NOOOO!" screamed Herlendal. "My Tikklun! My effigy! MY BABY!"
For the briefest of moments, a wave of pity swept through Zantac.
The idea of a wizard's life's work being ruined in one moment was a scenario he could comprehend.
Then Zantac wiped his forehead and stared at his hand, caked in blood, sweat and something he didn't even want to look at too closely.
The moment passed.
"This is how real I am," he muttered, aimed at Golbi, who was about to fire another burst of sparks and cast.
The three magic missiles struck the spark familiar, which detonated in a miniature version of its companion's explosion.
Tiny pieces of metallic debris rained down from above.
The axiomatic dire badger disappeared.
Aslan stared up at Fenlun, who body had jerked spasmodically when his familiar had been destroyed.
The gnome, who had been looking up into the sky, looked over at Yanigasawa Tojo, who was still standing next to him, katana raised to strike and then down to meet Aslan's gaze.
Tears welled up in his eyes.
"There's so much death in this world," he said in a hoarse croak. "All I ever wanted…was to… create… life."
The tiny effigy master looked up again, but his eyes were unseeing.
"Is that so wrong?" he whispered.
The gnome toppled forward into the pit and landed on the what was left of the rowbaht.
Fenlun Barlun Urlan Effigist Zimbalist Herlendal's last act before dying was to wrap his tiny arms around the remains of the rowbaht torso, as if to cradle a child.
Agarth, who had shown absolutely no emotion during any of this, touched his miniature chest again to the larger one, which disappeared again.
The mercane's gaze moved from samurai to paladin.
"There will be a reckoning for this," he intoned.
He and his bodyguards vanished.
Engaged in combat with Sir Corvis as he was, Elrohir almost didn't notice Excel until the armored figure had crept up (his field plate curiously making no sound whatsoever)and then knelt down beside Rashlot.
Oh, crap, the ranger thought. I thought Aslan had killed that son-of-a-
The elder Hextorian cleric began to stir.
Then, far more quickly than Elrohir could have imagined, he staggered to his feet. Dudraug attacked but even his sharp teeth could not penetrate Rashlot's full field plate.
Rashlot cast another curing spell on himself but could not, of course, reattach his left arm.
His right hand still holding his flail, he looked over at Sir Corvis even as he continued to fend off the elven dog's attacks.
"Don't worry," the Wild Coast native told the priest. "Your chimes are in good hands."
He chuckled at his own pun as Rashlot glowered.
Both Nesco and Ukansis snatched up their weapons and advanced on the Emerald Serpent. Ukansis' spear thrust missed but it created just enough of an opening for Lady Cynewine to score another slash across the Serpent's armor, this one on the right side.
"Yuan-ti," Ukansis growled. "Abomination!"
Startled, Nesco shot a quick glance towards the cleric on her right.
"What?"
"Ancient legends," spat the priest of Zeus. "Unholy spawn of Echidna!"
Echidna?
Nesco suddenly felt not only as if her blood had turned to ice water in her veins, it felt as if it had frozen solid completely.
Sir Damoscene, her first and principal teacher in Olympian mythology, had explained the origin of the world's fiercest monsters to Nesco. Dragons, hydra, sea serpents; all were offspring of the Mother of All Monsters Echidna and Typhon, sometimes called Merrshaulk, Father of All Monsters.
She'd heard the legends of scaly monstrosities unleashed and what could happen if they weren't stopped.
Nesco decided right there and then that either the Emerald Serpent would die in this battle or she would.
There was just too much at stake.
Sir Corvis took a step so that Excel was standing to his south and Rashlot to his east.
He then moved the chimes to his left hand and placed his right hand on his chest while smiling at Elrohir.
"Waves of sunlight wash
Worn skin, scars and old feelings
Breathe deep and heal now."
Corvis' wounds began to heal even as he drew his sword.
The only ray of sunshine for Elrohir in this latest turn of events was that the false knight had foregone his chance to shake the chimes of the mephit againby healing himself. The ranger began to close in again to attack when a halfling-sized creature suddenly appeared between him and Corvis.
The loathsome, winged thing looked like a miniature human composed of muck and filth. It had a terribly obnoxious stench and grayish-green slime dribbled from its body.
I didn't know mephits came in an ooze variety, Elrohir thought to himself while trying to breathe through his mouth.
The ranger raised Gokasillion to strike when the mephit suddenly flung out its arm at him and a green blob of sludge flew from its hand and landed squarely on Elrohir's steel breastplate.
Which immediately began to dissolve from acid.
Elrohir grimaced in pain as the corrosive gel began to burn his flesh. He'd been subjected to something similar to this before; from the Baklunish wizard Zanthar underneath the Slave Lord temple in Highport.
Which meant if experience was any guide, he needed to kill this thing- and fast.
The creature that Ukansis had called a "yuan-ti" took another step backwards towards the door of the Brass Dragon and again cast a spell, storing away its composite longbow as it did so.
There was no visible effect from the prayer, but the Serpent's smile grew wider still.
Aslan grasped Tojo and let his Talent flow one more time.
When he was done, the samurai sported only a few minor cuts but the look in the paladin's eyes told Tojo all he needed to know.
Aslan had no Talent left, only his paladin's grace for healing.
Tojo nodded soberly in gratitude and took off running at full speed northwest, back towards the inn.
Elrohir tried to ignore both the burning in his chest and the assault upon his nostrils and attacked the ooze mephit.
His first swing cut through the creature's torso as if it were made of butter and his follow-up, vertical downward stroke clove it's head in two.
The creature immediately dissolved into a pool of slime.
As the chest pain faded away, Elrohir glared at Sir Corvis, an uncommonly fierce gleam in his eye and a hard smile on his lips.
"Next."
Gastar was torn between trying to administer a coup de grace on the still frozen Hardson and helping his friends against the Emerald Serpent, who was clearly enhancing himself through prayer and might soon be impossible to stop when he heard Cygnus' voice crying out from the southeast.
"Gastar! Get out of there!"
Argo's childhood friend didn't hesitate, moving back and then around Nesco so that he came in on Lady Cynewine's left, now forming a line with her and Ukansis, all pushing the Emerald Serpent backwards.
But at that moment, Olec broke the hold.
"Master!" he cried out, smiling with malicious triumph as he swing his bow around to point at the three individuals threatening the Serpent. "I'M FREE, MASTER! I'M-"
Twin explosions detonated at that precise moment as two of Cygnus's shooting stars scored a direct hit on the fighter/assassin.
Olec Hardson's charred corpse collapsed to the ground, his burnt bow crumbling to ashes.
Gastar, Nesco and Ukansis all failed to land an effective blow on the Emerald Serpent.
"We may," Lady Cynewine informed her companions on both flanks, "be in some trouble here."
At Elrohir's pointed command, Dudraug moved to attack Corvis from the northeast but the elven dog's jaws still couldn't find purchase.
Zantac knew he didn't have the time to wait until Aslan caught up with him and healed him.
The wizard set out on a run northwestwards, heading towards the Emerald Serpent and his friends who were battling him.
As he passed Cygnus, the tall mage shouted, "Zantac! That damn snake is shining himself up to the point where he can just stand there and kill us all! You think you can take any of it off?"
No jibes or smart remarks.
Cygnus looked genuinely worried.
Zantac could spare his friend only a passing glance as he rushed by.
"I'll try, buddy. I'll try."
Yes!
It was a partial success. Zantac couldn't tell what the effect was, but he could tell that his targeted dispel magic had removed whateverthe last prayer was that the Serpent had cast on himself.
The angry glare that the yuan-ti cleric directed toward him was all the proof he needed of that.
Now one-armed, Rashlot had to reattach his flail to his weapon belt in order to cast his next prayer.
That was the first thing that told Elrohir that Rashlot must consider this particular prayer a very important one to cast.
The second thing that told the ranger that was when he heard a faint sound of discordant trumpets in the air, a reddish glow that appeared momentarily in the space around the priest and then seemed to be absorbed into his body like water to a sponge and finally Rashlot's body bristling with divine power.
Elrohir would swear he could see the cleric's muscles growing.
A quick glance forward showed him that Yenom and Excel seemed to be facing off against each other. At the moment, each priest was casting a prayer on himself.
Although Elrohir possessed no special skill that would allow him to confirm or deny it, he had a queer feeling that each cleric was casting the exact same prayer.
Sir Corvis began backing away from Elrohir in earnest now. He moved north, towards the inn but was forced to skirt a bit westward to avoid Yenom's reach.
Malicious smile firmly in place, he shook the chimes again. A musical tinkling filled the air.
The Emerald Serpent backed up a few steps again.
The spawn of Echidna, as Ukansis had called him, now re-slung his longbow over his shoulder.
That worried Nesco.
Then the yuan-ti cast yet another prayer.
A loud hissing filled the air and the air surrounding the reptilian priest seemed to be suffused with a greenish glow that was quickly absorbed into his body, which palpably seemed to swell with power.
Gastar, Nesco and Ukansis all gulped and tightened their grip on their weapons.
The idea of retreat never entered anyone's mind.
No matter the cost.
Corvis had moved too far away for Elrohir to reach him as quickly as he would have liked. Rashlot was his closest target now but Elrohir noticed that Dudraug was currently situated on Excel's right flank, about five feet further on.
The Aardian ranger came in on the junior Hextorian priest's left flank and swung.
Excel whirled around, but his shield was perhaps six inches out of position to catch Elrohir's blade, which actually cut right through the cleric's breastplate to deliver a serious, but not mortal wound.
The cooshee attached simultaneously but was unable to pierce Excels' full plate.
Zantac was getting weak from blood loss. His run became a stumble and then slowed down to a walk.
Cygnus bolted past him, casting on the run.
The Emerald Serpent's yellow eyes abruptly went wide and for the first time since this battle had erupted, the reptilian creature screamed in rage.
Cygnus allowed himself his first full grin today.
More experienced in spellcraft than his fellow wizard, the tall magic-user had not only been able to strip away two more of the Serpent's ongoing spell effects with his own targeted dispel magic, he'd been able to identify their effects: divine power and greater magic weapon, which had been cast on the Serpent's longbow.
There was no time for celebration, though. It hadn't been a complete success; Cygnus could tell the Serpent still had other ongoing prayers active.
The Aardian wizard's cool, calculating brain was still working on overdrive, reminding himself that he was rapidly running out of spells.
"Zantac!" he turned and shouted at the wizard who was still approaching from the southeast.
His fellow mage looked over at him through a face caked with blood.
Cygnus made a sweeping motion with his arm to encompass the two remaining battles: The Emerald Serpent versus Gastar, Nesco and Ukansis, and Corvis, Rashlot and Excel fighting everybody else.
"There's almost sixty feet between those two fights!" Cygnus yelled. "I need you in the middle, between them!"
"What?" Zantac shouted back. "Why in the name of-"
"Please, Zantac!" Cygnus yelled in as close to a pleading tone as his fellow mage had ever heard. "Just do it!"
Elrohir had heard this exchange between the two wizards but, as it didn't seem to have much bearing on his immediate peril, hadn't given it much thought.
Rashlot, on the other hand, seemed to find it highly interesting.
The elder priest of Hextor suddenly pivoted to his right and, pointing at Yenom, who was currently about ten feet from Elrohir, cast a spell.
"Damn it!" the cleric of Zilchus yelled for the second time in under a minute.
"What is it?" shouted Elrohir, who hadn't seen any visible effect.
"Dispel Magic!" Yenom yelled back. "The bastard's removed some of my enhancing prayers!"
"Some?" Elrohir repeated. "Is what you have left sufficient?"
"It'll have to be, won't it?"
Although Dudraug had yet to wound Excel, the cleric had grown tired of the elven hound continually hanging off the plating of his left arm by his teeth.
"Beast!" he cursed, slamming his heavy flail into the cooshee's head.
Blood sprayed and Dudraug relinquished his toothy grip on the priest but continued to attack.
Elrohir, who had been about to move on towards either Corvis or Rashlot, changed his mind.
Laertes and Ukansis were still unable to score telling blows on the Emerald Serpent, but their attacks eventually gave Nesco the split-second opening she needed and Sundancer's blade was again coated in the yuan-ti's blood.
"Tell me more," said Lady Cynewine as the last of the Serpent's latest cry of agony faded away, "about the power of pain."
Fire and Ice.
Two more mephits materialized on the battlefield.
The one five feet behind Elrohir looked like a miniature, winged human made of snow and ice; its skin was a translucent blue-white.
The one that appeared between Sir Corvis and Yenom looked like a small devil, wreathed in flames.
A deadly, chilling cold injected itself into Elrohir's back as the ice mephit immediately launched two magic missiles into his flesh, bypassing his plate mail completely. The ranger could feel the skin on his back underneath his armor hardening from the cold.
Meanwhile, the fire mephit raised its arm and pointed at Yenom but the cleric's heavy mace came down on the mephit's head first and split it open.
With an intense but brief flash, the mephit blew out and disappeared.
"You are inexperienced at summoning," Yenom informed Corvis. "Your situation is no longer profitable."
The Emerald Serpent was now backed up against the front door of the Brass Dragon.
"Time to stop running," Nesco told her enemy, hoping her voice sounded calmer and more menacing to his ears than it did to her own.
The yuan-ti, however, merely smiled.
"You're so right," it said and cast another prayer while touching the unholy symbol of a cobra's head that hung from around its neck and pointing at her.
Like Olec Hardson before her, Nesco suddenly froze up, unable to move a single muscle.
The ranger thought nothing could possibly be more terrifying than this new development until she watched the Emerald Serpent reach behind his back and take his double-sided greataxe in hand.
Sir Corvis continued to back up, now turning eastwards again once he had passed Yenom and ending up about fifteen feet north of the Aerdian priest.
Still smiling, he shook the chimes of the mephit again.
Seeing this, Rashlot was about to yell something out to Corvis when a blur of motion out of the corner of his eye made him turn around to the south.
"Better rate than never," said Yanigasawa Tojo.
The samurai's blade cut a thin new gash across the cleric's field plate, drawing fresh blood.
"Thank you, Dudraug," Elrohir whispered.
The ranger's cooshee, while unable to actually hurt either Excel, whom he was flanking with Elrohir nor Rashlot, whom he was now flanking with Tojo, nonetheless was keeping up a constant flurry and attacks and ear-splitting barks, keeping both enemies from focusing their full attention on the Tri-Worldians.
Excel caught Elrohir's latest swing on his shield.
"For the glory of Hextor!" he shouted from behind his visor.
"Oh, shut up," Elrohir said.
The ranger dodged the priest's swing with his flail, feinted high and came in low, slicing into the grooves of Excel's knee coverings.
Excel screamed in pain and grabbed his left knee, dropping his shield.
Elrohir stabbed him through the neck, his magical blade piercing the young cleric's neck guard completely.
Spewing blood, the priest collapsed.
Elrohir looked around to see Laertes running up but instead of following Tojo's lead, the half-orc skirted around behind Elrohir and ran towards the ice mephit.
As he did so, the teenager yanked one of his two hand axes off his weapon belt and hurled it at the outsider, but it bounced off the mephit's icy skin.
Huffing and puffing for all he was worth, Zantac came to a stop just north of the table and coffin where Elrohir had been standing during the funeral.
Clutching a stitch in his side, the Willip Wizard looked over at Cygnus, who was still about twenty five feet behind him.
"I'm here, Toothpick." Zantac shouted. "So what's the Master Plan this time?"
"Hang on," Cygnus replied, pulling what looked like a piece of licorice root out of his spell component pouch. "I've never actually tried casting this spell in combat before."
"And that's supposed to make me feel more confidant, is it?"
Gastar couldn't put what he thought he saw into words, but it almost seemed to the ranger that a slight rippling or streak or something had shot out from Cygnus to Zantac and then split, with one branch striking him, Nesco and Ukansis and the other hitting Elrohir, Tojo, Yenom and Laertes.
Whatever it was, it was gone in the wink of an eye.
But now Gastar somehow felt invigorated; ready for actions. His sight seemed keener; his muscles ready for action.
In fact, he felt ready to move in the wink of an eye.
Looking over to his right, he saw that Nesco Cynewine was still held in place but Ukansis seemed as energized as he did.
"Have any words of inspiration from Almighty Zeus for us, oh pious priest?" Gastar asked with a grin.
To his surprise, Ukansis did not smile back. He didn't even look over at the ranger as he shifted his grip on his spear so that both hands now held it out horizontally in front of himself, like a battering ram.
"As a matter of fact, I do," the cleric replied as he finally turned to face his fellow Olympian.
His face solemn, Ukansis simply said, "Follow up."
The last was a whisper, but Gastar (and he was sure, Nesco) still caught it.
"And say goodbye to Argo and Caroline for me."
Ukansis charged the Emerald Serpent, his body almost a blur from Cygnus' haste spell.
The Serpent's keen axe swept forward to intercept the cleric's bull rush and buried itself in Ukansis' chest.
Regardless, the priest's momentum carried him in to the yuan-ti with a mighty crash that blew the door of the Brass Dragon backwards and carried them both over the threshold.
The inn door abruptly glowed white.
A strange, complex design appeared on the door in blue light, as if an invisible figure were tracing it.
Then without warning, three beams of searing light shot out from the design as Yenom's glyph of warding discharged. One beam dissipated harmlessly upon touching the yuan-ti, but the other two seemed to bypass the creature's armor completely, burning the scaly flesh as they weaved across the monster's form, heedless of his continued screaming.
When the light faded, Gastar could see that neither Ukansis nor the Emerald Serpent were dead, but both looked only a stone's throw away from it.
Gastar rushed inside and hacked and slashed at the yuan-ti cleric but still couldn't quite penetrate his armor.
Zantac finally cast shield on himself as Cygnus pulled up beside him.
"Nice one, Stick, but I don't have many big arrows left," he ruefully told his fellow wizard.
"Neither do I, Stack," Cygnus replied. "Neither do I."
He hesitated.
"Well," he said. "Maybe one."
Rashlot took a step northeastwards, out of the samurai's swordpoint and cast some kind of healing prayer on himself. There was no immediate, dramatic improvement in his condition as there usually was with those kind of prayers, but his blood flow slowed to a trickle and his breathing became less labored.
Yenom, by himself at the moment, took the opportunity to cast a bless prayer to replace the expiring one from his fellow priest.
This time, three mephits appeared.
"Ha!" cried Corvis in glee. "Getting the hang of it!"
Another fire mephit was now standing directly south of its summoner, while what looked like a stony, rugged, winged dwarf materialized directly north of the ice mephit. In addition, a miniature human with bleary red eyes now stood twenty feet south of Tojo.
The samurai sighed, recognizing it as a salt mephit.
He had not enjoyed his last fight with one of these things.
The scorching ray leapt from the fire mephit's finger and struck Yenom, dealing the cleric of Zilchus his first damage of the fight. The priest cried out inside his suddenly blazing hot armor.
The 3' tall earth mephit swelled to twice its height and moved over towards Laertes, both hands curling into granite fists.
The ice mephit fired a beam of blue energy that struck Elrohir's plate mail. The point of impact iced over for a moment but then disappeared without effect.
Even expecting it, Tojo could not help but grimace as fine droplets of salt water were literally and painfully pulled out through his skin and flew into the salt mephit. The cry to the samurai's west told him that Laertes too had been caught in the desiccating effect of this thing although like Tojo, he seemed to have resisted the worst of it.
Sir Corvis shook the chimes again but Rashlot yelled out, "No more today!"
The scoundrel frowned, unhappy that the priest had yelled out that important piece of information so publicly but consoled himself with the thought that he wouldn't be caught shaking the instrument when all it would do now is produce somewhat discordant music.
"And I want those chimes back!" added Rashlot.
"Sure thing," replied Corvis with a wry smile. "I'll just hand them to you then, shall I?"
"Stop saying things like that!" Rashlot screamed in frustration.
Sir Corvis put away the chimes, drew his composite longbow, notched an arrow and fired at Yenom, but the cleric was ready. The projectile struck his shield and shattered.
The Emerald Serpent backed out further into the Brass Dragon's common room and healed itself again.
Gastar tried to console himself with the knowledge that every cure the Serpent cast on itself was one less prayer that he could use to shine himself up or bring about their doom, but it didn't really work.
Tojo was on his mephit in a blur of bladed motion and scattered piles of salt were all that remained.
Likewise, Elrohir advanced on the ice mephit and two swings from Gokasillion later had reduced the outsider to a pile of slush and snow.
Laertes stabbed the enlarged earth mephit again and again, but even hasted could not destroy the humanoid although he did gouge out several very large holes in its torso.
A clanking noise from the east made Tojo look that way.
"Maybe," Aslan wheezed as he finally pulled up next to the samurai, "you're onto something by not wearing armor, Tojo."
"Ukansis!" Gastar roared as he interposed himself between the yuan-ti and the cleric of Zeus. "Get out of here!"
The ranger attacked for all he was worth, but even his enhanced speed was not enough to land a telling blow on the spawn of Echidna.
Nesco Cynewine had, by turns, prayed, cursed, exhorted and screamed, all in her head as she mustered everything she had to try and break free of this hold but to no avail.
Thus, the ranger was completely disconsolate when her eyes, the only part of her body other than her lungs which could move, spotted movement on her left side.
It was Cygnus. The tall mage eyed her mournfully.
"I'm sorry Nesco, but I've got nothing left to break this."
He then turned to face something south-southwest, which Nesco wasn't able to see.
"Hey, Corvis!" the wizard yelled.
What in the name of Hades is he doing? wondered Nesco but then the ranger was still able to make out the wizard point at the false knight.
That person who had once, all those months ago, had seemed like such a dear friend.
Corvis' eyes grew wide with terror as he saw the sun glinting red off the ring on Cygnus' right hand.
The tall arcanist cleared his throat.
"Saved a star for last Fire cleanses all filthy lies Sure sucks to be you."
Sir Corvis screamed and turned to run but the mage's final shooting star was a direct hit.
When the smoke had cleared, the only thing still intact was the chimes of the mephit.
Zantac was frustrated.
His spells were nearly exhausted.
This was hardly the first time this had happened of course, and the Willip Wizard had no qualms about hoisting his quarterstaff and mixing it up alongside his friends, if only to provide them with a distraction and/or a meat shield.
But he was already wounded.
Zantac spotted Aslan and Tojo to the north and began to jog towards them.
With the others all battling mephits, Rashlot had no other opponents at the moment other than Dudraug who was faithfully following his master's last orders and continuing to attack.
The Hextorian cleric snarled and bashed the elven hound with his flail using all his divinely-enhanced strength.
The cooshee dropped to the grass and lay still.
Elrohir, his attention now turned towards Laertes' battle with the earth mephit, did not see it.
Ukansis hesitated but realized he was little more than a distraction at this point.
He cast aid on himself and backed out of the inn, winding up to Nesco's right again.
"Ukansis!" barked Cygnus, indicating the frozen figure of the ranger between them. "Do you have a dispel?"
"I'm sorry, I don't," replied the priest, shaking his head sadly.
Yenom advanced on the fire mephit, which of course had been completely unaffected by Cygnus' shooting star and bludgeoned it out of existence with his mace.
The earth mephit attempted to pummel Laertes but the hasted half-orc dodged and weaved, and the creature's stone fists met nothing but air.
Aslan the paladin was further anyone than anyone else from what happened next but of all the witnesses who were not actually enveloped by it, he was the most affected.
Because he had encountered it before.
The greasy, cloying dark cloud that spilled out of the Brass Dragon inn covered Cygnus, Nesco and Ukansis in an instant but even seventy some-odd feet from them, Aslan (and, he knew, everyone around him) could feel it.
It was the same thing he'd felt while hiding underneath the snow from the barbed devil.
A cold darkness that chilled not flesh but soul.
Aslan had actually avoided the dreaded spell that time but this time at least four of his friends hadn't.
"Gods, no," the paladin whispered.
The cloud dissipated as quickly as it appeared but when it did Cygnus and Ukansis were staggering on their feet, physically unchanged but by their anguished expressions clearly trying to recover from an unholy force that had clawed at their very soul.
Aslan couldn't make out what had happened to Gastar.
Nesco Cynewine, on the other hand, lay sprawled out on the ground, unmoving.
"NO!" Aslan screamed.
The Emerald Serpent re-emerged from the Brass Dragon into the sunlight.
The yuan-ti's expression was remarkably calm and mild considering his physical condition. His studded leather armor was slashed in numerous places and dried blood covered a good portion of his torso. His neck and head still sported horrific burn wounds, making his face appear as oddly artificial in some ways as the effigy Tikklun had appeared after being repeatedly blasted by fire.
The Serpent spread his arms wide.
"And now," the cleric of Merrshaulk announced to everyone, "the killing begins."
Yanigasawa Tojo moved so fast that Ukansis' tunic and Cygnus' robes both flapped madly in the breeze created by the samurai as he dashed past them to engage the Emerald Serpent.
Moving faster now than even the Serpent's unnatural evasion abilities, Tojo's first strike carved out a chunk of the yuan-ti's left shoulder the size of a potato.
His second one buried his katana in the snake-thing's chest.
Yellow, slit-pupiled eyes stared into violet almond ones.
"So brave," the Serpent whispered as Tojo yanked his blade free, ignoring the blood spraying out to soak him, "yet so foolish."
The yuan-ti still did not fall.
"Elrohir!" Laertes shouted. "I've got thith pile of rocks; get Rathlot!"
The ranger smiled; Laertes almost seemed as if he enjoyed giving commands. Still, the advice was sound. He began to head back east, where the Hextorian cleric stood only twenty feet away.
That was when he noticed Dudraug.
His fury overpowering everything else, Elrohir tore into Rashlot again and again, slicing off pieces of his full plate armor and then hacking and slashing at the revealed flesh underneath.
Rashlot cried out in pain.
Elrohir ignored this.
The final hole Laertes created in the earth mephit's chest with his shortspear was so large that the creature crumbled into pieces. Before the last pebble had hit the ground, the half-orc had dashed off and was already flanking Rashlot with Elrohir.
Gastar came back into view behind the Emerald Serpent and trying to strike the yuan-ti from behind but he was in such poor shape from whatever dark power the yuan-ti had used that he was still vomiting and was unable to land an effective blow.
Cygnus would not let himself breathe until he saw Ukansis drop to his knees, cast a healing spell on Nesco and actually saw the ranger begin to stir; apparently at some point the hold having been broken.
Now that was done, however, the tall mage realized he couldn't do a blasted thing.
His one remaining powerful spell would catch everyone nearby in its area of effect and trying to bash the Emerald Serpent with his quarterstaff would be an exercise in futility.
He satisfied himself with helping Lady Cynewine to her feet.
Aslan gave Zantac some of his paladin's grace but advised the Willip Wizard that he had to save the rest for others who might need it as well.
"That'll be plenty, Aslan," he replied. "Thanks for the juice."
Zantac, still hasted, moved off in a circle and came in on Rashlot's south flank, swinging his quarterstaff but without effect.
Rashlot made a tactical step to the north and cast.
There was no visible effect from his latest prayer but now the priest cried out in triumph.
"Ha! You fools! None of your piddling attacks can hurt me now and you have nothing left to remove my divine shield with! By the glory of Hell's Herald I shall destroy you all! My god is invincible! My god is all-powerful! My god is-"
The arriving Yenom's first hasted strike broke Rashlot's great helm apart and his second split open the cleric's skull.
"My god," said the priest of Zilchus quietly, "is better than your god."
Tojo and the Emerald Serpent dueled.
The samurai was loathe to admit it, but his confidence was starting to falter.
He just didn't see how this thing could possibly still be standing after all the horrific wounds it had taken, let alone fighting at what seemed to be full strength.
He tried to choke off his cry of pain as the axe slid along his right arm, taking a long but narrow strip of skin off with it.
The Serpent saw the movement out of the corner of his eye long before it reached him.
The foolish human woman who fallen prey so easily to both his hold person and his unholy blight.
No strength of will in that human at all.
The keen greataxe was already in position to parry as Nesco Cynewine came up on the Serpent's left flank and swung.
And Sundancer turned his weapon to glass.
The Emerald Serpent had no time to register disbelief at this because the tip of Tojo's katana erupted from his chest at the exact same moment.
Without a sound, the yuan-ti crumpled to the grass, drew one last breath and then moved no more.
It was perhaps a good five minutes later before anyone spoke.
The bodies of all their enemies were piled together by one of the old campsites.
Excel alone was actually still alive after being healed, although he was still unconscious. Like all the corpses surrounding him, the young cleric of Hextor had been stripped of armor and weapons.
Elrohir sat apart, holding the body of his cooshee in his arms, slowly stroking the animal's head.
He seemed to want privacy, so everyone gave it to him.
The battle being over, only now could the barking of Grock, Argo's wardog, could be heard. The party had locked him in the Bigfellow cabin before the funeral began.
Despite the use of all of Aslan's remaining grace and whatever clerical healing was still available, everyone still looked a mess.
Not one person had escaped uninjured.
The person who finally spoke was Gastar, who was sitting cross-legged on the ground near the inn, looking around wearily at the detritus of battle.
"So," he said, looking around at everyone else present, "is this pretty much your typical weekday or was Argo exaggerating?"