The tavern of Infinity...

Remove all ads!

Shura's blade interlocks with the monster's claw, stopping it entirely. In a flash, he pulls the monster close and executes a shoulder throw that sends it tumbling heavily to the floor. The beast growls and springs forward but the unkempt swordsman steps aside with impossible speed, avoiding a blow from both the paladin's holy sword and the creature.
"What the...the sword turned in my hands!" stuttered the paladin, before the creature batted him aside, winding him but leaving him relatively unharmed.
Shura levels his katana at the demon, his will manifesting as a red-blue flame on the otherwise unmagical blade.
"Cease." was all the laconic warrior said.
The demon grinned. "I...know..you..." it rasps horribly. "Brother..." It begins to laugh horribly. " You WILL be like me someday! Your sins are too great, paladin-bane!"
The paladin on the ground gasps with shock upon recognition of the swordsman's title. Meanwhile, the fallen monk springs up with great vigour and charges at the abdomination. Shura takes this opportunity to help up the githzerai and push him behind a table.
Shura pulls his other sword from it's sheath only to see the monk go soaring past him from another blow by the demon. The demon again executes it's force attack, levelling the paladin as he tries to get up and sending the githzerai into convulsions. Shura's mind buckles under the mental assault and the flames on his swords falter for just a moment before he finds his focus again, the unholy rage perpetually burning within him which delfects the demon's power.
A flailing demon arm is cut down by a wakizashi and the swordsman's katana proceeds to carve huge gaping wounds on the demon's torso. Shura's soft leather shoe slams into it's head, driving it back. Another shoulder rush further staggers the demon and Shura wastes no time in severing both it's lower limbs that serve as legs. The demon's remaining fist slams into Shura's side with an audible crack of bone, throwing the swordsman back.
Roaring in anger, the abdomination screams obscenities and promises all in the tavern a painful death. Shura picks himself up, ignoring the torrent of blood that gushes past his lips. Dropping his wakizashi, he lifts his longer sword in a 2-handed grip. The limbs of the demon start to re-attach themselves.
Shura throws himself forward, slicing with his sword at the exact moment the demon strikes. The two combatants pass each other and a gout of blood bursts from Shura's left shoulder. He gasps and falls to a kneeling position.
"HAHAHAHA, you are weak.." the demon's voice trails off inexplicably as it's head slides off it's shoulders to land with a fleshy 'thump' on the stone floor of the tavern of infinity.
The demon's head still seems to live, however, and another blast of mental energy sends Shura flying into a heap of tables...

 

Thnx guys, but I didn't say the abomination was a cornugon, did I?

And a Stone Golem getting killed in one blow??

Give me a sec to get my wits in place. And err, you wouldn't mind if I backtracked a bit would you?

 

I've backtracked to where the golem was about to strike either Gar'shrekt or the abomination:

Gar'shrekt's blade arcs through the air at the abomination but it is deflected by one of the creature's long serrated claws. The Gith would have parleyed more with the fell creature had he not received a premonition of a potentially fatal result. He had made the mistake of thinking the golem was on his side.

Gar'shrekt moves his head away just in time to avoid the golem's double-handed hammer, but even then it's fists crash down on his shoulder. Gar'shrekt falls to the ground from the impact and rolls away even as the golem stomps at where his stomach would've been and attacks the abomination. The blow would've smashed the bones of a lesser man, but Gar'shrekt was no average person and knew to absorb and defelct some of the impact.

Gar'shrekt rises quickly in pain, and immediately he is in a disadvantaged position as the golem spins around from facing the abomination and reaches for his face to crush it. The golem's reach is far longer than his. Gar'shrekt readies his blade to parry the attempt.

A man in black armour joins the fray and in a blur of motion strikes the golem's arm away with a magnificient blow. Gar'shrekt takes the opportunity to move to a more advantageous position. His eyes meet those of his benefactor and conveys its gratitude.

Now the golem is caught in a three way fight between the abomination, the man in black armour and Gar'shrekt while the stuid tavern guards look-on dumbfounded. The golem does its job remarkably well, using its strength and size to its advantage, fending off the three's attacks and yet keeping them on their toes as well.

Gar'shrekt sees several more warriors attack the creature.

"BEWARE! THE CREATURE'S TOUCH DRAINS THE MIND!" Gar'shrekt shouts out a warning.

"USE THE GOLEM! LET THE GOLEM FIGHT IT!" he calls out. A moment later after busily fending off the golem's flurry of attacks, "BLAST IT! WHERE'S THE GOLEM'S MASTER???!!!"

Gar'shrekt seizes an opportunity and sprints away from the golem in a burst of speed, manevering to behind the abomination in a u-shaped movement to fight alongside the other two warriors. He figures that they've never seen a creature like this before and if anybody should be able to handle the creature he can. But heck, the last time Gar'shrekt saw the creature it wasn't half as powerful.

A third swordsman, this one wielding a katana and wakizashi joins the fray against the horrible creature.

"BEWARE ITS TOUCH!!" Gar'shrekt calls out again.

And so the abomination is caught in a five way attack. Being not proficient at fighting multiple enemies it is more than a little frustrated and a little fear slips into its insane mind.

Suddenly it stops all of its attacks to focus a mindblast on it's four human(oid) assailants. In fact all four of its assailants would have interrupted it by landing mortal wounds on it right then and the creature would likely have met its end had not the golem made an unexpected move.

Using its size the golem spreads its arm out and bullrushes the abomination into Gar'shrekt and his allies, catching it off guard. The golem's arms close, trying to catch Gar'shrekt, the abomination and the three warriors as well in a deadly bearhug!

(P.S Pls continue! Shura, it's your tavern so you should control the guards and the golem. And by the way, you didn't think I'd let the abomination die so easily, do you? Hehe. And I like the golem. )

 

Ironbeard stares longinly at the last dribbles of his ale as it seeps through the cracks in the floorboards. Raising his head above the level of the table he sees the fight now involves seven combatants - perhaps it would be time to leave. Making sure the combatants are sufficiently distracted by each other, the dwarf slowly makes his way to the door. The silver monkey, and Sapyril's "business" awaits. As he walks to the tavern he loads a fresh bolt of biting in his crossbow - after all one can never be too careful.

 

"Beware the creature's touch!" The warning rings through Moeken's skull like the toll of a bell.
'Truly the Gods are on my side' not a single scratch from the abomination had landed.
The fervor of battle engulfs the inn as warriors and swordsman enter the fray. Moeken notices a stout creature making it's way toward the door and recognizes it as the dwarf who had been mumbling into his ale only moments before. Black and Silver armour meld together into a flashing melting pot and men who would just as soon cleave him in two are suddenly allies.
In a single movement, the gauntlets hanging at his side encase his hands lending the sensation of being emersed in cool soothing water. This was always Moeken's favourite part. Almost as tempting as the lotus weed the master used to burn on the monestary dias. Ripples of energy begin to course through Moeken's sinuous form as the powerful ecstasy engulphs him. An almost imperceptible grin forms on his normally marble like features. Once bulky and obtrusive, the gauntlets have become one with their master, the delicate silken texture contrasting with the awesome power woven within.
The motion in the room slows and even the shouts and commands of the combatants become meaningless. Flashing blades become like slivers of grass bending in the wind and even the pockets of magical energy seem simple and child-like. With effortless grace Moeken swings a cupped hand at the midsection of the golem giving birth to a spray of rock and sand. Before the lumbering creature can even react, the reverse thrust has found it's way home.
Temporarily disabled, the stone monolith no longer serves as a threat, Moeken's attention instantly shifts to the demonic creature...




[This message has been edited by Lord Moeken (edited March 22, 2001).]

 

***Geez, this story is gettin' good. By the way, perhaps I should have asked before, but can we leave the tavern and still continue with our story? I will continue to write, but if the answer is no, then I'll get someone to edit my posts (I don't know how). And apologies in advance to those who interacted with me.

Skirting the main fray, Sapiryl jumps from floor to chair to tabletop in an effort to get a quick glimpse of his situation. Spying a nearly open space, he leaps from the tabletop and curls into a ball as he hits. Carefully placing the short sword blade away from his own body, and cupping the quiver to his side, he stands upright and realizes how much that leap had cost him. Standing directly in his path, a lumbering golem recovers from a blow from the same dark swordsman who had been stalking the Kara-Turan. And speaking of which, he noticed that same quarry curled in a corner with...with something that Sapiryl wished to avoid at all costs.

Switching his attention back to the stone figure ahead of him, Sapiryl readies his blade and braces for the blow that he would deliver to the creature. Rushing forward, an hunching low, Sapiryl begins his swing. Suddenly, a sickly/sweet sensation rolls through his middle, and the image in front of him blurs. When he can see again, Sapiryl is still in motion, and still on course. The only difference with the view is that there is a large, dangerous looking man in combat with the golem, and he is moving impossibly fast and powerfully. Deciding that the target is still worth going for, Sapiryl swings his swordarm up, with the blade's tip almost trailing on the floor. Coming up under the beast, Sapiryl strikes the torso just under the stone arm.

The reverbrations send Sapiryl's arm into fits of pain, and the only thing that he can do now is to run. Run fast and run hard, lest the golem defeat his current opponent.

As Sapiryl sails out the tavern door, the slice in the monster's armpit begins to smoke and widen...

 

"Embarrassing...." Belisarius muses to himself as the last reverberations of his ringing blade courses through his body. Momentarily remembering his days adventuring with the entertaining, if misguided, Yoshimo, who ultimately fell to his blade for his betrayal. "No time for the dead, lest I join them soon for underestimating these deadly foes," Belisarius reminds himself of the situation he is in, and that his actions must be swift, deadly...

In one swift motion, he sheaths his blade and draws his mace. Although much more effective against undead, it should do the trick against the stone behemoth whose focus has turned from him to Moeken in front of him. As Belisarius regains his feet, he sees Moeken deliver a devastating blow on the golem that begins to send the hulk reeling backward. As he raises his mace to deliver the blow, his heavy blow strikes the stony head of the of the automaton, sending bright golden sparks bursting throughout the room just as Sapiryl strikes the massive arm of the thing.

The tavern shudders and shakes as the golem slams against the hard floor, sending tables and chairs flying in all directions. "Moeken! Look out! Belisarius shouts as he starts running toward the martial artist, as he sees the abomination start towards him. "This is going to be close..." he thinks to himself as he replaces his mace and draws Xanthkarthir, the holy sword he wrested from a demon years ago. The pale blue light of the bastard sword envelopes him as he feels the warm goodness of the Protection from Evil aura as it surrounds him.

Belisarius runs full speed to the evil spawn, shield facing the beast, his blade ready to send it back to the Abyss....

 

Bodies and shapes slowly slip past Moeken as if he is part of some slow-motion, underwater perfomance. A lethal combination of blows that would stop an elephant serves only to slow the animated behemoth. A blade from nowhere strikes Moeken's opponent full in the shoulder followed by a golden mace that renders the golem headless. The whole scene is like the artwork on some insane painter's canvas.
"Lookout Moeken!", who could be shouting so quietly?
A massive warrior armoured in black, a dazzling swordsman weilding dual blades, an impressive paladin who somehow looks familiar; all converging on his position. In a split second Moeken adjusts his stance to fend off the incoming attackers, but in a moment of clarity he realizes his mistake. The wash of warm blood bathes over Moeken's right shoulder as protruding claws emerge from his arm. The pain of the flesh becomes meaningless in comparison to the forces tearing at his mind.
'Focus' the words of his master echo in his mind, willing him to resist the wrath of the demon.
'Focus' his feeble grasp on consciousness slowly slipping away.
'Focus' with more instinct than skill Moeken lunges backwards and as suddenly as they appeared, the horrid claws are gone. Moeken can feel his grip on reality slipping.
'Focus'...
Suddenly the world comes back to life and Moeken finds himself leaning against the shattered bar. With trained capillary control he staunches the flow of blood from an arm that hangs limply at his side. The impact of steel on putrid flesh rings unholy notes into the air as the three unlikely allies tear into the beast and Moeken can only lean back to watch. The faint blue light from a holy sword becomes tainted by the blood of the demon and the arc of an expertly timed katana stops short in the creature's side. Countless blows from the huge man in darkened armour tear at the very fibre of the creature's existence, and sensing it's demise, the creature turns for the door.
"Thhhisss isss jusst the beginning little onesss!" echos into the stillness of the tavern.

"Stand down Sir Belisarius", Moeken warns the advancing paladin, "I too sense the evil in these men, but I also sense the good. Only together do we hope to vanquish such a creature."

Moeken can sense the importance of all the individuals present. Somehow the mysterious young woman who had conveniently left the inn was involved, while the foolhardy young gambler and his dwarven accomplice had stumbled onto something more important than they knew. Moeken who vowed never to touch alcohol in his life motioned toward the cowering bar maid, "We must find all three of them, but tomorrow is a new day. The first round is on me!"

Gar'shrekt was nowhere to be found.

 

Belisarius sheaths his blade, but settles his hand on the pommel as he measures up the dark clad figure in front of him. Still somewhat tense from the battle, he smiles as he discerns the slightest shard of good in the man's eyes. Fingering his beard thoughtfully, Belisarius addresses Shura "The demon was wrong you know, there is hope for you yet. The Evil has not consumed you fully." Relaxing his stance, he salutes the dark clad warrior and offers a cautious word: "Our swords may clash against one another in the future...But not today. As for what comes, only the Fates know for certain."

Disregarding his own wounds from the battle, Belisarius turns to Moeken. "This was a fortuitous meeting, my friend" as he removes his gauntlets. Laying his hands on Moeken's blood soaked shoulder, he speaks the words of Power which calls forth his healing ability which manifests itself in the paladin's hands. Transferring the potent healing magic to Lord Moeken, the claw marks in his shoulder begin to mend, leaving only the blood that has soaked into his tunic.

As he strides toward the bar, Belisarius motions to Moeken and the others "Come then, let us try to make sense of tonight's events. And what of the others, those that left during the heat of battle? Are they somehow involved in this? There are many questions, with too few clues...

 

"If your order is based in Faerun, then surely we will meet as enemies someday. For I will not rest until every paladin in Faerun is destroyed..." Shura whispers bitterly in reply. Clutching his wounds, he staggers slowly to a wall and leans on it heavily, letting his magical ring do it's healing work.
He notices the black armored swordsman inching closer and stops him with a stare that promises death. The man's eyes glitter with rage and he turns and moves away.
"Softer, getting softer and slower..." he laments silently, taking his thoughts back to a day where he and his adventuring band wrecked havoc everywhere they went. The Bastard Squadron, they were called, led by the diabolical Dark knight Blackmire, consisting of the powerful Necromancer Kalvairn Levensrua and the deadly assassin Ander Deathchain. Shura was a member of this deadly quartet.
It seemed nothing could stand against them, Kalvairn turning a whole ranger and druid battalion into undad creatures and dooming them to haunt their grove forever, Ander striking from the shadows brought down many a goodly ruler while Blackmire worked his political mastery over the prominent governments of Faerun. Even Silverymoon and the Lady Alustriel were not free from his influence. Shura being a simple warrior, was content to do the 'muscle' work for the Bastard Squadron, killing bands of heroes that threatened Blackmire. Eventually, the heroes became paladins and finally Celestial agents were sent. Indifferent, Shura killed them all, striking down knights in shining mail and winged holy creatures alike. When the demon Belhtifet aqquired the crystal shard, Blackmire sent Ander, Kalvairn, Shura and one of his proteges, another Blackguard to retrieve it and destroy the demon. The mighty anti-heroes did so, but failed to obtain the crystal shard. On the return journey, Shura was separated from his comrades and stepped down the path to where he is today...
His recollections done, Shura forces himself up and walks back to his room, the bitter memories stirring up so much hatred in him.....

 

herf watches as the golem falls under his blade, he feels another soul enter his collection, for a second his sword glows extremely bright.

the forgotten soldier watches as the abomination calls obscentities and runs out the door, "coward" he thinks to himself.
all the warriors in the room are going back to their tables and talking to each other about going and killing the creature the next morning, herf would do it tonight, and bring back the creatures head to gain back his status that he lost so many years ago...

the man in the shining armour talks to the man in black armour but he obviously isnt listening to well, he mentions something about enemies but he didnt hear to well.

herf decides the best course of action would be to involve the dual weilding swordsman, he walks towards the man but then decides it would be a bad idea when he sees the fear in the mans eyes, the man looks extremely white and petrified, the only solace the man has is the ring he is twisting on his finger.


herf walks out of the tavern with a few gazes following him ut the door, the gazes might have something to do with the fact that he hasnt yet sheathed his blade and he carries it as though ready to use it...

 

The abomination, wounded and bleeding, tears down the streets of Athkatla. Peasants scatter in its wake. A few foolhardy guardsmen command it to stop but it pays them no heed. Its only thought is to get away from the tavern. The humiliation. Bested by mortals, and some of them drunk as well.

It pauses on a street corner, realising that it is not being pursued. A poster nearby advertises another alehouse by the name of the Silver Monkey. As the monster casts its gaze about the street it spies a short figure, walking through the gloom and smog. The abomination focuses on the dwarf, recognising it as one of the patrons of the tavern of infinity, it reads his thoughts as if they were a book. So foolish, so wary and paranoid, but yet blinded to true danger by the lure of gold. Such a pitiful creature. The terror's claws rise for the attack, a crossbow appears from under the folds of the dwarf's cloak. A bolt of biting sails through the air, its barbed tip cuts into the creatures flesh. FOOL, DO YOU THINK YOUR PETTY TRINKETS CAN HARM ME? flashes through the dwarf's mind. The beast advances on the dwarf, now frozen with terror. His crossbow bobs uncertainly in his trembling hands. Beads of heavy sweat drip from his forehead and his lips move in a soundless prayer to Moradin. NO, thinks the creature, I AM A SPORTSMAN AND YOU ARE NOT MY QUARRY. THERE IS NO SPORT IN SLAYING YOU - MORE AMUSING THAT YOU SHOULD LIVE IN FEAR, and with that it is gone.

The grateful dwarf scurries off to the Silver Monkey, encounter or no, business is business.

[This message has been edited by Ironbeard (edited April 21, 2001).]

 

A glowing nimbus of light surrounds Ironbeard. He looks around in bafflement. Out of nowhere an imp appears. "On behalf of the sorcerer Taluntain, I am here to make an official presentation" says the imp. " For your addiction to these boards, and continual posting when you should be doing something else and are annoying the other members, I bestow on you the rank of apprentice. Here are your robes of apprenticehood - wear them with pride" and then it is gone.

 

The untouched mugs of dry mead sit on the table between the two comrades as they contemplate the past few moments.
"The taint has grown in him," Moeken whispers into his hands, "I know of his order and what they are capable of."
"This man Shura," the name is spoken with tones of remorse, "Has aged beyond his years. A lofty price to pay for mastery of the blade. He was not always this driven and it pains me to witness his miguided intentions."
The sorrow on Moeken's face is replaced by a fond look of recollection, "I also remember the frequent trips you and your father made to my master's monestary high in the hills of Tethoryl."
"He always had the best spices and wares and slipped me salt taffy when my teachers weren't looking."
"Ahh, the days before titles such as 'Sir' and 'Lord', times were simple and so were our lives."
"I see you have excelled in your calling," the subsiding pain in Moeken's arm transports him back to the present,"The rivers we travel meander and part, but the water they carry shall meet once again."
Moeken glances at Sir Belisarius and chuckles. Both warriors know that the demon was only an outcrop from the true disease. The course of their next actions are not readily apparent, but Moeken has an idea where to start, "I fear that both men who helped drive off the beast have their own hidden agendas. The night is still young my friend, the dwarf and his companion could not have gone far..."

 

***LOL Ironbeard! And thanks for working with me.

The Silver Monkey is nested within the denizens of the poor, and although the surroundings are destitute, the tavern itself was quite well kept.

Hoping that his offer was intriguing enough, Sapiryl waits at the bar, sipping spiced mead and lamenting the loss of a fine weapon. The bar mirror reflects the mud room to the pub, and a handy stairwell leads to the resting rooms and the roof beyond. He would have liked to be downstairs, next to the cellar and close to both the freshest drinks and the freshest purses.

Sapiryl more or less owned the inn, and in this respect, the regular patrons knew to avoid him and thus his gambling was done elsewhere. Maintaining close ties with the shadow thieves was the only thing that really allowed him to operate in the city. Most of those operatives scornfully called him "Snitch" or "Rat" because it was his duty to report the activities of any opposing guilds. He had nearly lost all his possessions during the not quite so recent fiasco involving some strange vampiric sect and the Cowled Wizards, who were practically destroyed soon after.

Sapiryl jerked upright. He recognized those paladins! At that same moment, the door burst open, and a dwarf practically fell through. Sapiryl turned with a smile.

"Why friend! Then you did consider my offer after all!"

He shrugged off a warning look from the dwarf and indicated that no one else in the bar seemed to care.

"Follow me," Sapiryl instructed, and guided the dwarf towards the back. "By the way, I do not exactly remember your title...Henchineer or Engineer? In either case, I have need of both."

They entered the kitchen and Sapiryl motioned towards a set of chairs.

"My offer was sincere, I truly propose that we hunt down that vile swordsman. He and we may find equal ground about some things, but one must draw the line somewhere. You have heard of the recent battles in the Elven wood, and the freeing of Suldanesselar? Well, our good paladins at the tavern happen to be directly involved with that. Well, one of them isn't a paladin, but it's really the same thing. Now you may begin to see what our awards might amount to if we 'Triumphed for good'? They are hailed by the Order of the Radiant Heart and nearly every temple in Faerun! Now we come to the bargaining bit. I will offer 5,000 gold for your hire, and yes, you will be working with me. Upon completion, you will receive half of the rewards. It's your choice whether to accept it or not."

Sapiryl smiled warmly, but by the twinkle in the dwarfs eye, the offer wasn't nearly good enough. In fact, it was downright terrible...

 

The warrior in black armour walks down the street folowing the puny, scared dwarf, herf could see the green fear rising of him like a bad smell. herf follows the dwarf and the dwarf follows the animal, herf follows them into an alley where he is just in time to see the animal runing out of the far end and the dwarf just coming out of the alley, only the black armour stops the dwarf from seeing him.

herf follows the animal and quickly catches up. "it is a good day to die" the warrior says as he turns a corner. the animal rips out his throat as he walks round the corner...

 

There came a tremendous crash from below as Duskai paused at the window of her rented room. Deciding it best to leave unseen and in one piece she slips out from the small window and as she vanishes into the night, her dark cloak making her one with the shadows, the edge of the silken garment catches on an evilly spiked splinter and tears with a sound not unsimilar to that of a blade borne through the air. Briefly cursing her misfortune she sets off in search of a secret meeting, eyes shining as bright in the pitch as in full light, darkness is not a problem for her. Left lonely at the window as this lady herself only hours before, a scrap of the nights blackest lays impaled, it seems to suck in light like a hole in space.
Now safely away from the inn Duskai looks around for some clue as to where she should be heading. A tattered and yellowing poster catches her eye, more specifically the words set there on. Smiling to herself she turns to leave but suddenly halts and shudders,
"something evil this way hath passed" she whispers.
The coldness of the air turns her breath to curling whisps of smoke like the breath of a dragon. She wanders if perhaps she should retire to the warm and rethink this venture, maybe she had been too hasty, but then she feels the curve of her newly, if somewhat unhonourably acquired bow pressing at her back. That dice master was definately up to some sneaky deed, but then curiosity did kill the cat...
"but satisfaction brought it back" she says slightly louder than was meant.
She chuckles lightly to herself and slinks off, tonight would be a night that this kitty won't forget, she could feel it...

[This message has been edited by Duskai (edited March 24, 2001).]

 

**** Just a general question ******
Can we leave the inn Shura? It seems that this story may need some room to grow.

 

(do as you will, fellows. As long as you enjoy yourselves, do as you will.)

 

The young man wakes up and checks behind his pillow...the black cloak is still there. He then jumps out of bed and checks his bag and the mirror image of the cloak is gone. Sniper smiles to himself and bellows out a laugh!

"Some fool will find that he is not carrying the black cloak but 153 knitted rat-skins!"

Sniper then dones the black cloak and walks out.
Upon inspection of the room he immediately acknowledges that there has been a fight...maybe more...still Sniper shrugs, strides over to a corner of the room and picks up an ale. He then proceeds to sit on a bench next to the window and downs the ale, all thw while thinking of the fool who stole 153 knitted rat-skins which would become a living rat golem that was to forever follow the bearer on 9th of Febuary at 11 o'clock. Sniper glances at one of the few remaining intact items...a clock. It was 3 minutes to 11...and it is the 9th of Febuary today...

Sniper chuckles to himself as he downs the last of his ale and decides to retire to his room to learn a few scrolls he had bought but a few days ago.