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The Kandron Affair (an IWDII serial) - Part the Seventh.


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#1 Guest_TheBeastlordJohnny_*

Posted 15 September 2003 - 07:37 PM

Hullo everyone!

Finally, they get out of the pissant four-street burg that is Targos. Hope you all approve…

Chapter 7 – Carry On Up The Shaengarne

Lolth…

I’m coming…

That darkness… so perfect… so thick…

It can only be the gloom of the Spider Queen herself…

Take me home, Mother! Enfold me in your murky webs of sweet oblivion, that I might rest in convenient, easily digested pieces…

Ahh… sweet oblivion will be mine…


Voices.

Voices that I couldn’t quite place in my half-consciousness, but seemed familiar.

“Poor daft eedjit,” went one. “Still, you should see the other guy.”

A second voice gave an audible breath. “He didn’t deserve it,” and there was a slight waver in this voice. “I suppose he’s just another victim of the marauding goblin hordes, really… like so many others…”

“Ahh, life’s a weasel,” said the first one again. “How you reckon he would have liked to have been buried?”

Buried?! So I was dead?!

“Hmm… reluctantly,” said the second one. Then there was a distinct noise like a foghorn and some reluctant sniffles. “Oh, why already?” wailed this same voice. “Why now? I’d only known him for such a short time…” it went on, and then dissolved into more sniffles.

“Ah, well, he went doyn fightin’,” replied the first voice again. “’Twas how he would have liked to have gone.”

At this point my eyes snapped open, and I instinctively leapt into a sitting up position. “No it is not,” I barked at the two bystanders. “My preferred way to go,” I hissed, “would have been of heart failure at the venerable age of 777 years, while engaging in an extremely energetic session of heavy-duty ‘spelunking’ with a trio of chesty Handmaidens of Lolth atop a huge pile of the corpses of my dismembered enemies. Any other demise would be… less than acceptable.”

“Kandron, so you’re not dead!” yelped a rather tearful Shayla, and squashed me into her chest. Not an unpleasant experience, but rather… smothering.

“Get off me!” I snapped into her. She obliged. Whether this was a good or a bad thing, I am not sure. “So…” I said as I slumped into the threadbare sheets. “Did we win?”

“Yes, the entirety of the goblin horde was dispatched,” Shayla replied. I noticed that there was no mention of how many Targos recruits were smeared in the battle.

“Aye, we battered those weasel-tupping goblins good and proper,” Talyn reassured me. “But all but one squad of the local soldiers were fecked.”

Upon these words being said, there was an awkward silence, and I slumped into the blankets further, my limbs feeling like they were made of lead, and my left thigh still felt weak from where it had been pulled partially out of kilter. Talyn vanished soon after, but Shayla stood there, and stood there, and stood there…

“Hey,” came Shayla’s rather quiet voice, and I glanced towards her. “I, erm, brought you something,” she said. “I know you, erm, lost both your weapons in that battle, so, erm, I brought you some new ones,” she went on, “and, erm, I knew you weren’t thrilled with that baloth toothbrush – “

“Not thrilled?!” I snapped at her. “That thing saved my damn life you know!!” Rage at the seeming slowness of these… rivvin… to catch on to things filled me, and I ground my teeth together in frustration, and glared at Shayla. If looks could kill the whole of the Ten Towns would have become a collective goner.

Wordlessly, Shayla reached under the bed and brought up a matching pair of Florentine swords – one long, one short. They were a dark shade of steel, and looked rather slender. “I, erm, hope you like them…” Shayla murmured, and I took the swords from her.

They were tremendous.

Exquisitely fine craftsmanship, most likely magical in nature, light yet razor sharp, and pleasantly strong. Yet the best bit about it all was what was engraved on the underside of the hilt of each of them – ”Heart of Kandron H. Devore” and ”Soul of Kandron H. Devore”.

Best of all, they fit perfectly into my grip, as I gave a few practice swings with them while sitting up they seemed to obey my thoughts rather than my movements… and they fit the part aesthetically, as well… cold, dark, and impersonal.

“I like it,” I said to Shayla. “Now,” I continued, flinging back the covers and raising myself to my feet, “Let’s get going – “

“Kandron, no!” yelped Shayla. “You need to rest, get back your strength, before we can go any further.”

I slumped back into bed, as she knelt beside me.

“Yes, well, you lost a lot of blood in that fight. And there’ll be a scar over your shoulder where the worg bit into it… its most likely going to be permanent…” Shayla’s voice trailed off at the end, and looked down at my bitten shoulder, and as I looked at the blood clots all over that area of my anatomy, some of which looked nastily infected. And I caught her eyes for a moment, and held them in mine… and let go again as she stood up.

Bored out of my skull, I drifted back off to sleep, and dreamt of being out of this putrescent hole, among other things.


Five days later, my lacerated shoulder had become presentable, and my leg was back in working order, and I had my nice new shiny weapons strapped to my back within easy reach. Having consulted Lord Ulbrec, it transpired that our next job was to venture forth into the icy wastes of Shaengarne in order to determine just what sort of magnitude this threat was of, and to clear a path over the bridge to allow the reinforcements from Neverwinter to reach Targos unmolested. A lofty aim if ever there was one, for with Darik around, reaching Targos unmolested was quite out of the question.

Try and imagine this if you will – Myself, with a slight limp still from where I fecked my leg at the palisade battle, followed by Oberron, Shayla, Talyn, then Darik in that order. For some unfathomable reason, Darik insists on walking at the back. I just am thankful that there are three people between him and me.

The ground was frozen solid, the trees and scrubbly bushes bare of leaves. As we advanced, we heard the odd Orcish grunt sounding towards us, ensuring that we were all on our guard; Darik had his axe, Talyn an arrow nocked, myself my nice new Florentine armaments at the ready, Oberron his Freudian greatsword out. And all of a sudden, a squealing and crashing came through the brush, and before I could have said, “Darik, leave the chipmunk alone, you don’t know where it’s been,” this squadron of Orcs appeared in front of me.

“STOP!” grunted the first one. “Why you trespass on land of Broken Tusk Clan, dark elf? You will get off land of Broken Tusk clan or be brutally slaughtered! Torak says it is so!”

“STOP.” I curtly snapped. “Why not sod off and perform an obscene act with a string of razor blades, a candlestick and a cat? It would be more suited to one of your meagre intellect, oh great Torak.”

Torak, understandably, took extreme offence to his, motioning his followers to attack. Suffice to say that with my superior swordsmanship, Darik’s large axe, Oberron’s Freudian greatsword, Shayla’s “organised chaos” spellcasting strategy, and Talyn’s knack for hurling invective randomly at the enemy, it was a very short lived battle, and soon enough we were picking through the corpses of the once proud warriors of the Broken Tusk clan.

“Hah!” snarled Torak from a safe distance, battered but unbowed. “You no defeated Torak yet! I will be back for more, and you will be violently dismembered!” With which he ran off.

“Not bad,” I mused to myself, as we continued to advance along the valley. And sooner or later, my bowels decided to play up – after all, I had consumed four plates of… questionable… casserole the night previously, and I suppose this I what one refers to in the Underdark as Ghaunadaur’s Revenge, Nass’Uzelli Belly, or just plain old The Runs. So, excusing myself, I hid in the underbrush, hunkered down, and dropped my trousers.

“Don’t look,” I chided the inquisitive face of Darik as it popped round a tree trunk. No effect. In fact, the inquisitive face of Darik decided to move in even closer. Rather ruffled by this invasion of my personal space, I supported myself on my hands behind me and snapped a leg out to clip him on the chin. That worked. Darik didn’t try any more voyeurism again!

Ahh, sweet relief…

All that was necessary now was something to clean up shop with. Grabbing a handful of random leaves, I did so with those, stood up, raised my trousers, and was summarily struck by absolute and intense agony.

Let’s just say, there’s no poison ivy in the Underdark.


The next few hours were not pleasant.

I could have lived with having to waddle like a duck with a haemorrhoid problem and not being able to sit down for days on end if I wanted to. But throw in a filthy-minded dwarf constantly finding amusement in one’s predicament and the end of one’s tether suddenly becomes dangerously closer. The protective pad of dockleaves Talyn had harvested and stuffed down my trousers didn’t help all that much either – if anything, it gave Darik another target for abuse.

“Hurhurhur,” Darik would snigger. “That’ll teach you to go cramming Moradin knows what up your behind!” Upon where he would poke the back of my trousers with his axe handle. This would be slowly endured for a time until I would snap, and grab the handle of his weapon, and yank it out of his grasp until he’d promised to use it sensibly.

About two hours after my little, erm, incident, we came upon an interesting solid line of barrels all neatly lined up to block our path completely. Furthermore, at a safe distance behind this line was another, solitary barrel. This looked more than a little suspicious to me, and so we advanced to have a look.

“Hmmm,” I mused. “Looks like, sticks, and things, floating in this clear gloopy stuff… And some bit of string dangling out the end… weird.” I put my hand into the barrel. Bringing it out covered in said gloopy stuff, a smell of some sort of oily stuff pervaded the area.

“Well, it stinks, and it’s in our way, feckit,” said Talyn, wafting at his nose.

A tell-tale grunt then sounded from behind a nearby tree. All of us suddenly were on tenterhooks, looking around to see the source of the grunt.

Another grunt, this time from behind.

“Oh shit,” I whispered into Darik’s ear, “I think we’ve blundered into an ambush.”

A third grunt, from in front again, followed by a telltale sticking out bit of puce flesh from behind said tree.

“I think,” shouted Darik at my two-inches-away face. “You’re right! It is an ambush!”

“Ambush!” said Oberron in a great panic. “Let me stwike down those insidious, dishonouwable swine!” and got out his weapon. Pushing through the line of barrels, he charged behind the tree, yelling things such as, “EVIL DOER! I MUST SMITE THEE!”

“AARRGGHHH!” he yelled in an agony of frustration as the bit of puce coloured flesh he revealed to us. A severed arm tied to a bit of string… which he pulled on…

And from behind us, came our old friend Torak. With a sixsome of retainers.

“You again! You no mess with Broken Tusk Clan and live, dark elf!”

Oberron came charging out from behind the tree holding the bloody stump of some poor orc. “A dishonowable twick!” he exclaimed. “By Towm, I should smite you whewe you stand!” And went charging at Torak and his six retainers, who all piled on on him.

I think the next occurrence is best described in Talyn’s unparalleled running commentary on things.

“And the beknoighted idiotic paladin goes trying to clinch a duel with Torak, badgerfeckin’ eedjit he is, I mean, when I say eedjit, I mean you could dangle them upsoide doyn by their ears and rags would fall oyt! No, wait, they’ve all bundled into Oberron and they’re… Is that even legal? What in the name of the holy harlot is feckin’ goin’ on here? What the feck is Oberron doing with that greatsword?! Feck me with a weasel, this is too nasty ter descroibe… Arright, now I’m confused! For some reason a massive Dire Weasel has just materialised to join in on the action… Oh, so there’s a sneaky feckin’ Orc shaman hoidin’ royn the back what summoned it… Argh, I’m more confused cos its head just went flyin’ into the bushes… oh wait, looks like Kandron’s work, that…”

And so on.

By this stage Darik had joined in on the brawl, and by the end of it, all the orcs were dead, and Torak was up against it. Specifically, up against Oberron in front of him and Darik behind him. So either way one looks at it, he was fecked.

And all of a sudden, an Orcish accomplice armed with flaming arrows came out the brush and fired at point blank range into the solitary barrel behind us, then started firing at Shayla and myself. Instinctively we ducked, but the gunk piled up on top of the barrel burnt down and caused the whole keg to explode in a not inconsiderable fireball. This in turn ignited the gunk on top of the line of barrels which we were leaning against…

This was a predicament.

“AHH!” Shayla yelped, quite unlike her, and both of us charged away and dropped to the ground safely out of range, just as the entire line went off…

Rising to my feet, my eyes burning from the sudden light which had burst into existence, and my lungs clogged from the dust and pulp which had been sent flying everywhere, I noticed that Torak was nowhere to be seen. The crafty bastard.

“Oww!” then emanated from Darik as something fleshy and puce-coloured fell on his head with a meaty splatch. Looking down to inspect it, he grimaced…

“BARBECUED!”


That’s all folks!

Coming next – Really Big Explosions!

#2 Guest_argan_*

Posted 16 September 2003 - 07:15 AM

Nice chapter :twisted:

#3 Guest_Withiel_*

Posted 16 September 2003 - 07:46 PM

That was rather great.
Although it seemed a little truncated - it seems there's a lot more that could be done with Torak; "Ha, me stereotypical orc-leader, me hate HOO-MANS". Etc. heh. :)
Keep up the good work, that Talyn bit was spot-on.

#4 Guest_Chantrys_*

Posted 18 September 2003 - 02:35 AM

Lolth…

I’m coming…

That darkness… so perfect… so thick…

It can only be the gloom of the Spider Queen herself…

Take me home, Mother! Enfold me in your murky webs of sweet oblivion, that I might rest in convenient, easily digested pieces…


Talyn vanished soon after, but Shayla stood there, and stood there, and stood there…

“Hey,” came Shayla’s rather quiet voice, and I glanced towards her. “I, erm, brought you something,” she said. “I know you, erm, lost both your weapons in that battle, so, erm, I brought you some new ones,” she went on, “and, erm, I knew you weren’t thrilled with that baloth toothbrush – “


Tears...and then really awesome presents...I smell a romance brewing...

All that was necessary now was something to clean up shop with. Grabbing a handful of random leaves, I did so with those, stood up, raised my trousers, and was summarily struck by absolute and intense agony.

Let’s just say, there’s no poison ivy in the Underdark.


(*wince*) Darik's gonna have a field day with this one.

“Hmmm,” I mused. “Looks like, sticks, and things, floating in this clear gloopy stuff… And some bit of string dangling out the end… weird.” I put my hand into the barrel. Bringing it out covered in said gloopy stuff, a smell of some sort of oily stuff pervaded the area.


Ah, this doesn't look good. Run! Run away!

“Ambush!” said Oberron in a great panic. “Let me stwike down those insidious, dishonouwable swine!” and got out his weapon. Pushing through the line of barrels, he charged behind the tree, yelling things such as, “EVIL DOER! I MUST SMITE THEE!”


:wink:

And all of a sudden, an Orcish accomplice armed with flaming arrows came out the brush and fired at point blank range into the solitary barrel behind us, then started firing at Shayla and myself. Instinctively we ducked, but the gunk piled up on top of the barrel burnt down and caused the whole keg to explode in a not inconsiderable fireball. This in turn ignited the gunk on top of the line of barrels which we were leaning against…


:lol: Eep!!!

That’s all folks!

Coming next – Really Big Explosions!


What, bigger than the one's in this chapter? Daaamnnnn.

Great chapter!




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