# Kneel Mindslave!: Adventures of a Psion



## The Watcher (Aug 14, 2012)

Hello enworld! I am The Watcher, and am a DM as well as a player. A little while ago I moved and joined a group that plays a pathfinder game in the Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting. The character I made is a Psion, and I decided to begin chronicling our adventures here. Hope you enjoy!

As requested, some background on our heroes!

Mr. Worlds: A psion and our protagonist. A human of 28 he is very intelligent, aloof, and confident in the powers that stem from his own mind. This makes him arrogant, especially when dealing with "God-slaves". If there is one thing he can do however, it is respect those with power. Believing both good and evil to be limiting in his own search for immortality, he remains True Neutral.

Mr. Chronicle: A sun elf Magus who mixes spell and sword. Almost as arrogant as his psion companion, and twice as aloof, Mr. Chronicle has spent almost 200 years wandering, searching for ever more potent arcane spells. Always acting out of self interest, he is Neutral Evil and remains something of a mystery.

Red/"Sarge": A human gunslinger and sniper in past Amnish conflicts, Red is constantly improving the rifle he believes to be the weapon of the future. Realizing the potential wealth to be gained by adventuring, Red is currently on extended leave from the military, and is lawful neutral, knowing good and evil are objective, but believing that order should be upheld.

Wren: Half ninja assassin, half street performer and smooth talker, there doesn't seem to be a skill Wren doesn't have. A free spirit and avid gambler, he sometimes seems to actively promote Chaos in the lives of others. He is Chaotic Neutral.

Bahn: Growing up amongst hot desert dunes, he is a cleric of the Sun god Amaunator. Constantly at odds with Mr. Worlds, he refuses to tell him his will save, and remains True Neutral.

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Worlds had never enjoyed riding horses. Having a creature larger than himself moving under him was alien, the rocking motion never becoming a comfortable rhythm. That and his childhood memory of watching as a horse trampled a guardsman to death, bright red blood being stamped out, causing the horse to scream even more. Having a perfect memory could be... tiresome. Rubbing his eyes he left his reverie and listened again to Wren's never ending story.

"..and you know what Black Lotus goes for on the market, so you can imagine what that Flaming Fist berk was thinking when he cracked open every one of my barrels and saw what was inside. Thought he was going to make a fortune after he locked me up- only to see I've got barrels full of old bananas!" He let out a laugh and slapped his thigh, no one else acknowledging that he was speaking. If he noticed it, it didn't show, and after he caught his breath and looked at his companions he continued unabated. "Yup... oh, now that wasn't my first run in with the Flaming Fists, oh no. And trust me, when you first catch their eye you don't want to be trying to climb into a magistrate's third story window, ho ho no..."

Wren continued spinning tales, and the woods grew heavier around their small winding road. It had taken them weeks to reach the northern Dalelands, travelling north through the Snakewood, east to the Dragon coast, and sail north to Cormyr. The madness of that place, the goblin and orc tribes warring against the knights of the purple dragon, and logistics of trying to travel without walking into a bloodthirsty horde made Worlds shudder even now. They were luckier then most, able to help in the fight against the orcs, giving them access to royal and military routes. Many refugees seemed to simply live on the roads, fearing if they ever stopped travelling it would mean their deaths. Peace, it seemed, was in short supply.

And all for a favor. Red had received a message from an old friend from the Amnish army saying he lived in the Dalelands now, working at some big outpost north of Essembra. He had an opportunity for Red, one that he had promised would be lucrative for them all. It had taken some convincing them, the Cleric most. Travelling to the north, into the trees and away from the harsh gaze of the Sun he worshipped seemed counterintuitive to Worlds. But he had accepted as the others had, nothing tethering any of them to Amn. He snuck a look at the Cleric, wrapped tight in his robes and smiled to himself at the discomfort the colder climate and shade were no doubt causing him.

The road curved gently uphill, and at long last they saw a clearing in the trees, the timber turned into palisade walls and high towers. Wren let out an excited yelp, and Red spurned his horse into a faster trot. Weeks of travel and uncertainty- Worlds was glad the outpost still existed. It wasn't known as the "Battledale" for nothing. Only Chronicle didn't react, simply peering at the fort with a mix of aloofness and disgust Worlds suspected he kept in reserve for human settlements and burying corpses.

As the party approached the rough wooden gate, Red felt behind him to the smooth wood of his rifle-stock. It was a habit, and the familiar weight on his shoulder was more then a simple comfort. He hadn't seen Havren since his service to Amn spent in the jungles of Maztica, and it was there he had learned a very important lesson: you don't survive war unless you are friends with the quartermaster. It had been almost ten years, and wondered what could have been worth enough money to drag him all the way here.

A single guard met them at the gate, and was waving them through before Red finished saying Havren's name. Their horses trotted in, and as they dismounted Red got his first look at the interior of the fort. It was well built, heavy oak that wouldn't burn easily made up the bulk of the buildings and high wooden walls. Just a glance told Red that the fort was operating with a skeleton crew- two men patrolling between wall posts where six should have stood. His brow furrowed with concern, a look Worlds didn't fail to see. Wren was making a show of giving his horse to a guardsman to be stabled, while Chronicle stood to the side, an impatient look already revealing the nature of his next inquiry.

"Where is this comrade of yours? I find this place... disagreeable." Chronicle spat, his grace and timelessness contrasting with the mud splattered guard slouching next to him.

"Where does anyone find the quartermaster? Just follow the wagons..." Red said, taking off for deeper in the fort. Bahn the cleric followed, Wren, Worlds, and Chronicle behind. Before long they were entering a building surrounded by wagon tracks.

Inside the two story building was everything a functioning army could want- arms, ammunition, cuts of meat and barrels of salt. Men moved to and fro, pushing carts of supplies; cloaks, tents, winter bedrolls, quivers of arrows, and giant rolls of bandages. As the party stood gazing, a voice called out from above.

"Spotted first: never a position a sniper wants to be in." Red's eyes flitted up to see the face of Havren peering down the staircase at him. "Ha ha! Against all hope and sense you've come! By god, when the Sargent owes he pays and let no man say otherwise!"

Havren came down the stairs and clasped arms with Red who's face broke out into a wide grin. The man was tall, and in good shape- certainly a fighter in his day. On his hip was a short sword with a red jewel in the pommel, and a small stone figure wrapped in leopard fur was tied to his belt, and bumped against his leg whenever he walked.

Havren saw Worlds take note of the fetish, "Got that during my long stay in Maztica- and I never took sick or injured. Haven't since either!" before Red broke in "Maybe if you saw combat once you would have." Havren let out a roar and motioned for the party to come upstairs. "Come, come. We have much to discuss! And introductions of course." The party climbed the wooden stairs and passed through a heavy padlocked door to reach the second floor of the quartermasters domain. Here there weren't barrels of pork and lard, but weapons of superior quality, bags of coins to be distributed to troops, potions and scrolls lining locked cases.

Through another locked door was his personal quarters, a room full to the brim with different items, some valuable, others merely curious. "My apologies, I know its cluttered. Slept these past twenty years amongst the foodstuffs and weapons- old habits die hard. Sit, there are plenty of chests to rest upon, I have drinks somewhere here..." he moved quickly down small trails he knew well through the forest of trunks and cabinets.

"Do you remember what we used to call you? Havren the black." Red called out after him. "Looks like your famous locks aren't quite dark as pitch any longer."

They heard the clink of glasses being brought and a laugh from Havren. "I haven't been 'Havren the Black' for a long time now, more 'Havren of the Salt and Pepper'." He returned and pulled up a chair to the small round table, sliding glasses to the adventurers as he poured them. "Though I can assure you, I haven't gotten any more grey hairs here."

He sipped his drink, then leaned forwards "Truly though, I appreciate you responding to my letter. I have need of someone I can trust, who knows how to fight but isn't connected in any way to the politics of the Dales." He unrolled a map of the immediate area, pointing with his finger to the road beyond the fort.

"We are known as the Battledale for a reason- conflict is constant, meaning that there is always someone willing to hire soldiers. Now, this also means that caravans to forts, such as this one, can sometimes never arrive. In the past few weeks caravans have been robbed and burned, more then the... usual amount."

"Why not get the military to do something? Looks like you hold some considerable sway here." Wren spoke up.

"The problem with that is I report caravans getting robbed at least once a month- but now they actually have started getting robbed."

Wren smiled. "So that's why you need us. To stop whoever is doing this, so you can go back to... reporting caravans being stolen from."

Havren leaned back. "I make no apologies, and I have to retire on something more then a quartermaster's pay someday. The reason I'm telling you is this: stop the brigands, take whatever they have if you wish, and I will reward you all. They aren't just taking what I skim off the top of the shipments, this is valuable supplies that needs to be sent out to men all over the dale. To do my job properly, and to profit from it properly, I need your assistance. What say you?"

Red chuckled, "Still making sure everyone prospers including yourself; I think I speak for everyone when I say we haven't travelled all this way to turn you down."

Worlds spoke up, drink untasted in his hand "What more can you tell us about these thieves? I assume the caravans are guarded?"

Havren nodded tersely "Of course, but these aren't simple arrow ambushes or trees across the road. Each caravan attacked has been scorched by magic; overkill if you ask me, but something the men here would most likely end up scorched from as well."

Cleric cleared his throat, "And what has the weather been like recently? Has it been this cloudy for a long time, or just in the past few days?"

Havren paused, "It's been clouded for the past few months- does that have anything to do with the attackers?"

"No." Bahn sighed, and pulled his cloak tighter around him. Damn this grey north and their sunless sky.

"Well here is the map, I've marked where the attacks have occurred before. Tomorrow there is supposed to be another shipment, but I know they are delayed due to a lack of fresh oxen. The perfect way to draw out these attackers like poison," he spat. "I have quarters set up for you all for the night, and if you need anything to make yourselves more comfortable I trust you know who to ask." He smiled and stood up. "Now please excuse me, my work is never done, and I will leave you to your plans. Again, you have my thanks."


And there, amongst the clutter, they planned.


Elsewhere and later...

His toad was squawking loudly in protest. Protect and Shield. Those were her duties and she intended to fulfill them, repeating them over and over in her head, a steadying mantra, a cadence to live by. She watched the road, waiting for the caravan to come. This was the seventh by her count- seven caravans they had raided since the red apprentice had come up with this plan to impress his master. The idea was laughable, but Myr never did. She knew that acting like commoners and killing a few old men and boys wouldn't mean a thing to the red wizard- only arcane power and mettle could impress him, and that was something the boy and his toad lacked. Even as she watched the road she kept the apprentice in the corner of her vision. Shield and Protect. She could hear the men around her start to talk, bored with their hours of sitting. The boy croaked at them to stop and they did, out of amusement more then respect.

Her shield and longsword were up and in the direction of the flash of light before the sound had even hit them. One of the men dropped a fraction of a second later, blood pouring from his throat. She threw herself towards the apprentice, keeping as much cover as she could, relief flooding though her as she saw him, twenty yards off hiding behind a tree. I am the Shield. Protect. She should have never let him stray so far, even though he had commanded her to stay close to the men.

Her relief turned to rage as a form dropped down from the trees between them. The graceful figure wielded a glaive, spinning it with practiced ease. Without hesitation she charged him, closing more distance to her charge. Her raised shield took the first blow from his pole arm and turned it aside, swinging her longsword in to follow. If she could take away his advantage of reach, the fight was hers. He was fast though, this elf, and turned her blade aside with the haft of his own, using his dexterity to redirect her blows. He stepped back and swung again, low this time. She had to move fast, but knew the fight was over. Catching the glaive with the bottom of her shield she pressed down, trapping it and moving in with a wide powerful swing. His only option was to dodge and let go of his only weapon, or to lose his head.

Instead she saw the glow of arcane magic a moment too late as he grabbed her sword arm, blistering cold radiating from his tight grasp. The elf grinned wickedly as she gasped, but didn't expect the mailed boot she brought up to kick him in the gut. He let go, and she fell back, her opponent's glaive free again. His magic was nothing compared to what had been used on her during her training as a thayan knight, and she had spent many hours ignoring wounds much more severe.

She spared a look at the apprentice again, who was in the midst of casting a spell. A warning, if he could get a warning back to the Red Wizard then everything would be alright. She parried another blow from the glaive, praying her numb fingers would keep holding onto her sword. The spell finished, and the second loud crack echoed in the wood. Instead of escaping he had sent a lightning bolt crashing towards where her and the elf fought, though slightly off to the side. Suddenly she looked behind her, as a man dove to the forest floor with incredible reflexes. She hadn't seen him sneaking up on her, but his intent was clear as the kusarigama he whirled above his head, which started to glow red hot with magic.

She wanted him to run, to flee and live, but couldn't give the boy an order. Protect. I am but the Shield. This new opponent was too much, she had to reach her charge. She moved closer to a tree to try and put a barrier between herself and the sun elf as she turned to face this new threat. His chained weapons whirled, sparks flying off her armor as she turned his blows aside. Sweat poured down her shaved head as the elf moved in, taking the offensive again, and she turned to meet him. They were tiring her out, both striking from either side when she couldn't effectively defend herself. She rushed the man, slamming her shield into him, throwing him to the ground with a satisfying crunch. She turned quickly to meet the elf's glaive before she could finish the man, which arched with electricity, making her teeth grind together and her stumble. Again she looked for the boy.

The boy was in a trance, casting another spell. Behind him she saw another man, bald like her, with swirling tattoos covering his head and arms. Light spilled from them, and his eyes were a nexus of glowing energy. He reached out towards the boy.

She screamed.

The elf looked taken aback but knew better then to look behind him. She drove him back with a series of savage wild blows. The boy stopped casting and looked behind him, eyes full of fear for this new opponent. The glowing man slashed his arm down, and a stream of flame flew at the boy who instinctively covered his head with his arms. The flames barely singed his robes however, and he was chanting before the smoke cleared.

Extending his own hands several orbs of pure force shot forth with unerring accuracy at his opponent. The glowing man didn't react as they bounced harmlessly off of an invisible barrier in front of him, instead staring with calm intensity at the apprentice. His toad croaked again, and the boy nodded his agreement, drawing himself up again for another spell. The glowing man brought his staff to bear, slashing it towards the boy, who felt the telekinetic energy behind the blow. He closed his eyes again, but was rewarded with no feeling of pain. Instead he felt his leg grow warmer.

Looking down in horror he saw both halves of his familiar tumbled out of his severed pocket to the forest floor. He gripped his heart and fell to his knees, so dizzy he had to fall to all fours.

She knew it was over. The elf stopped attacking her, just keeping her at bay with his superior reach, grinning as she was forced to watch the death of the red apprentice. She tried to charge again, but her legs were burning and the elf swatted at her with his glowing pole arm, another jolt of electricity jarring her.

The boy reached in his pocket for the potion, the tiny glass bottle eluding his grasp. His eyes were screwed shut when he died, any mental defenses he had being swept away by the man who glows.

She felt failure. It was her last feeling as Wren appeared behind her, stabbing his glowing kama's into her back, driving her to the ground.

"That is for cutting my face!" He yelled, blood pouring from wounds where her shield had cut him.

Chronicle grinned. Almost a worthy foe, and one he had truly defeated before she died. It had been a good day.

Worlds looked down at the young wizard in front of him, more a lad then a man yet. Reaching into his robes he pulled out his spell-book, a bag of coins, and a tiny bottle filled to the top with clear liquid. Curious. He looked at the remains of the toad then took off towards his companions.

A minute later Red came out from the trees closer to the road, rifle over his shoulder with an unfamiliar leather sack in his other hand.

"Here is all the gold they had, nothing else of too much value. Did anyone encounter a spell-slinger?"

"Taken care of." Chronicle said before Worlds could speak.

"Lets debrief after I get these wounds healed. Where's that damn cleric... probably trying to scare the clouds away..."

Red stopped talking as the cleric walked towards them through the trees, no less then four arrows sticking out of his armor. His tan face looked pale and his eyes unfocused.

"You know... when you're ready."


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## The Watcher (Aug 19, 2012)

I plan on (hopefully) posting new installments every Sunday- if anyone has any questions about the campaign feel free to ask!


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## The Watcher (Aug 19, 2012)

*Kneel Mindslave!: Volume II*

"Just... two more." Red grunted. Worlds reflected on the origin of the sergent's name as the gunslinger put a foot onto the Cleric's chest. He prepared himself to pull out another arrow, trying to get a firm grip, hands slick with blood. Worlds looked away, though not because he minded seeing the Cleric in pain, in fact that was an unexpected benefit of working alongside these companions. Instead he inspected the fallen wizard, who had been alive only minutes before, and both pale halves of his familiar on the ground.

He was young, and had certainly seen too few winters to experience battle, but Thay was renowned for wizards proving their worth and power at an early age. Those that were cruel and gifted rose in stature- those who didn't either fell by the wayside, or perished. This one would have died before too long Worlds thought, he was too frail to even use the magical gifts his study granted him to their full potential. His Thayan robes, the red ones that marked the famous wizards, were more pink then blood colored, and the blood that had run from his eyes in his final moments looked like tears. Maybe even the merciless red wizards were children once too... an unsettling thought.

Worlds turned away from the boy he had killed as he heard a gasp and a snap. "Alright, now its more like one and a half to go. It looks like the arrowhead broke off inside you- now don't worry, I've seen this done before," Red said assuringly, pulling out a knife to dig for the lodged piece of arrow.

"Maybe if we stepped on the wound it would push the arrow out the other side?" Wren suggested helpfully, raising a boot in preparation. The Cleric's eyes went wide, and he shook his head back and forth as he bit down on the cloth that was stuffed in his mouth.

Chronicle stood waiting, looking impatient, off into the deeper woods. Worlds walked up beside him, speaking low as the others wrested with their wounded companion.

"Are you wondering what Thayans are doing this far west?"

"Wondering more why they would waste their time raiding small wagons, or what a Thayan knight of that caliber was doing guarding a mere mageling." Chronicle said.

"Regardless of their poor decisions, they must have been using some kind of road to take the shipments back to their encampment. We should be able to find it while our sun-kissed friend is on the mend," Worlds smiled, looking back at Bahn. Chronicle didn't.

The two spread out, searching to the sounds of muffled cleric screams. By the time the last arrow was out and Bahn had finished his prayers to At'ar to grant healing and mending of his many wounds, they had found a trail through the woods, two tracks of past wagon wheels having flattened the surrounding vegetation.

The party walked along the wagon tracks, Worlds using his impeccable memory to memorize small details about their course in case a hasty retreat was in order. He knew one thing all the rumors about the red wizards agreed upon, they did not care for magical power that came from a different source from their own, be you sorcerer or psion. He wondered how they would react to Chronicle, who had a spellbook, but mixed it with a deadly martial prowess. Probably hatred. It was a wonder why the nation of Thay didn't have more allies...

They walked along the faint wagon trail, Wren leading the way. His task kept him concentrating and silent for the most part, and none of the others spoke often, instead keeping their eyes on the trees around them. The forest was beautiful, trees tall and healthy with green grass between them, a welcome change from the heat and dust of Amn. Even the cold gaze of Chronicle seemed to soften as he walked amongst the ancient forest- from what Worlds knew of his past, it had been some time since he had come anywhere near a place older then he was.

Red's voice startled them all after an hour of prolonged silence. "Clearing up ahead." Sure enough, the woods were thinning and the wagon trail seemed to point directly towards a small field. They approached slowly, carefully creeping up to the edge of the woods.

And before them stood a tower. It was made of stone, seemingly pieced together haphazardly from rock in the area, the land around it brown churned earth. Sharp corners of rock sticking out of the tower gave it a decidedly ugly and unfinished look, and to Worlds revealed that it was most likely made quickly with magic. 

The field was full of rocks as well, overgrown with grass Wren noticed with delight, perfect for sneaking up close to the tower unseen. At the base of the tower were four men walking slowly in a large circle, patrolling the larger outcroppings of rocks around the tower for enemies, while in the second story was a man sitting at an open window keeping watch.

"They all seem to believe they have remained here undetected, which bodes well for our chances of clearing out the tower." Chronicle said, pulling out his spellbook for some last minute preparations.

"Yes, but I believe we have yet to encounter whomever made this tower- it certainly took considerable arcane skill to build a tower, even haphazardly, like this." Worlds worried out loud. He glanced at the lookout, who appeared to be carving something into the wooden frame of the window he was stationed at.

Chronicle spoke again. "Well, I believe the best course of action is to get as close as possible, ambush the men who are patrolling, the sergent will shoot the lookout, and we should be able to gain access to the tower without them having time to bar the doors."

No one could find fault with the idea, so they once again followed Wren as he carefully snuck out from rock to boulder. They were halfway across the field when the sentry sat up suddenly. "Down!" Wren hissed, and they all fell to the ground, but it was too late as the sentry put a hand to his mouth to call out a warning to the foot patrol.

Red was ready though, and resting his rifle on a rock, fired at the sentry. The soldier cried out in surprise as the bullet flew a little too high and ricocheted off the stone wall behind him. The soldiers below drew their weapons, looking around wildly. Keeping their backs to the tower they began to walk backwards towards the heavy tower doors, eyes searching for their unseen assailants.

"Empty purse!" Red cursed as he struggled to reload his rifle. Wren looked at him with a mix of confusion and disgust.

"What?" Red asked, ramming another round into the gun.

"I'm the rogue, and even I don't say that." Wren said shaking his head.

"Well it's... look I grew up in Athkatla..." he sputtered as Wren twirled his kursarigama above his head and leapt into a charge with Bahn, Worlds and Chronicle.

The man in the window grabbed his crossbow and fired, the bolt streaking across the field into Bahn's shoulder. He stumbled with a cry of anger and pain, and before Worlds looked back at the men closing in on them, saw the bolt was on fire even sunk into the cleric's shoulder.

The four men spread out, one of them breaking into a charge past the companions to where Red was finishing reloading. Chronicle swept his glaive in a wide arc before bringing it crashing down on a large man's battle axe, the man grunting with the heavy impact. Wren used the chain connecting his weapons to trip another man, sending him sprawling into the grass.

The last one had his longsword out and stared with hatred at Worlds before collapsing to the ground, blood pouring out of his eyes. A crossbow bolt flew past Worlds, slightly redirected away by the kinetic shield his abilities afforded him. Reaching out with his mind he grasped the longsword of his quickly dispatched opponent and threw it with unerring accuracy through the window, pinning the man to the stone wall behind him by his throat.

The man with the battle-axe was oblivious to his companions quick misfortunes, and managed to cut Chronicle's shoulder, the elf grimacing as he reached out and grabbed the man by his inner arm, his flesh burning with the cold. Snarling, his arm went limp and his axe sagged as he struggled to hold it in one hand. Chronicle dropped his glaive and pulled out a thin wand of wood, tinged slightly blue. The man dived behind a rock, familiar with the destructive power wands held, as Chronicle smiled and waved the wand over his wound, the wound clotting and a gratifying sting telling him it was healed.

The man had another second of confusion before his back arched, wracked in pain. A moment later Wren stood over his corpse, pulling his kamas out of the fighter's scorched flesh.

Red backpedaled as the man thundered at him, practiced motions becoming clumsy. Falling back the rifle discharged, the man's full tilt run stopping as he plunged head first into the ground.

Chronicle picked up his glaive and began to chant, weaving a spell around himself. Worlds waved at the tower, urging his companions forward as the heavy tower door slammed shut.

"Quickly! Before they have time to activate any wards!" Red, Worlds and Wren ran at the tower weaving and leaping over rocks. Reaching the door all three slammed against it, but the bar was already down, and they fell back like they had hit solid stone.

Worlds barely had time to curse as a shadow passed over the three companions, and he looked up to see Chronicle flying though the air- soaring through the dead sentry's open window. For a minute the three companions just sat breathing heavily, shaking and pacing back and forth with the adrenaline of combat, now with no way to direct their excess energy.

They heard screams inside; whomever had barred the door was paying a painful price for fulfilling their duty. The heavy bar clattered on the ground, the door opening to a grizzly scene of two headless corpses, the blood coating the sun elf's glaive sizzling with the magic he had imbued in it. 

The party breathed a collective sigh. "The interior of the tower is more extensive than expected." Chronicle said with a wave of his hand, Worlds getting his first look inside. The door opened to a stone passageway that ended with another set of double doors, smaller then the ones they had just forced open. On either side of the hallway were rooms, and as the party walked past they saw the quarters of the men they had just slain. The walls were far too rough, the jagged stone turning the hallway into a vicious maw full of teeth.

Wren walked up to the door and checked it for traps, quickly stepping away from it after a few moments of close study.

"This might be someone else's expertise... tingling feeling is telling me there is a ward just waiting to go off."

Chronicle glanced at Worlds who nodded. He stretched a hand towards the door, feeling for strands of arcane energy. He would have to remember the rogue was able to detect such things. Sure enough, a thin web of magical strands stretched over the frame that would explode outwards if the proper password wasn't given before entering. While it was made well enough, it was most likely the work of the mageling- it could be unravelled or forced open without injury.

Probing for weakness, Worlds found a weakness in the strands, and slowly widened it until there was a gap over the lock of the door. Dismissing arcane energy was slightly more difficult for the psion, but in the end the strands fell limp and lifeless, visible only to those who could see such things.

Wren approached again, and the tumblers in the lock clicked into place after a moments work. Wren pushed the door in, and only darkness came to greet them. Red activated a sunrod and threw it into the middle of the room, more details becoming visible as the light increased in intensity.

The room was a large semi-circle maybe taking up half the ground floor of the tower. Chronicle noted it was certainly a wizards laboratory- scrolls and hundreds of individual material components covering tables, a half finished ritual circle on the floor. There wasn't time to take in any more, as the twelve foot tall faceless man turned his head toward them.

He was massive, a figure sculpted from the earth itself. His head was almost featureless, a faint brow line the only indication of where his eyes might have been. His arms were the size of entire men, hands clenched in permanent fists. Even without facial expressions, he was a menacing figure.

Red reached in to shut the door, but it was too late as the Golem rushed the party with thundering steps. Chronicle and Wren dived further into the room to avoid being in its path, and while Worlds was able to fall back into the hallway, Red wasn't so lucky.

His gun went off, bullet sinking harmlessly into the clay this monstrosity was made from. A giant fist lashed out and slammed him against the rough stone wall, his light chain mail unable to protect him against the brute force the construct was made to dispense. Red's vision swam as his gun clattered to the ground, and for the second time that day Worlds reflected on the origin of the man's name as he darted into the laboratory.

Before the Golem had time to finish the gunslinger however, Wren got its attention with a shout and the shattering of a flask he threw at it. Fire blossomed out over the back of the construct, as it turned to meet this new annoyance. The fire wreathing the Golem didn't seem to bother it in the slightest. "Fire won't hurt those made from clay," Chronicle said in a calm voice, even has he and the others backed up further into the lab, away from the twelve foot tall flaming construct who watched them without eyes.

"But... its alchemist's fire..." Wren said in protest, twirling his kurisagama more out of habit than hope it could do anything to stop the monstrosity before them.

The companions burst into motion at once, knowing that their best chance for survival lay in acting in unison to bring down this mighty foe. The sun elf sprang to the right, his glaive making useless slashes in the brown clay, the devastating magic he wielded sputtering. Wren rolled to the left, wrapping his red glowing chain around the Golem's thick leg, pulling with all his might in hopes of putting it off balance. Worlds stayed against the back wall, light spilling out from him as an ear rending cone of sonic energy spilled forth from his glowing gaze.

The Golem moved with what could only be magical speed and grace for a creature of its size. His left fist struck the sun elf before he could duck out of the way, and his right pulled on the chain, backhanding the rogue who fell like a stone. Worlds could do nothing but look on helplessly as the construct marched towards him, their best efforts all having no effect on this powerful opponent.

Even with his mithril chain shirt and kinetic aura, Worlds's vision went black for a moment as the room spun suddenly, the Golem's massive fist hammering against him, sending the psion crashing onto a lab table, half finished potions and scrolls spilling everywhere. Looking up he made out the darkness of the Golem marching at him, its incredible bulk blocking the light from the sunrod.

And then the sun came out.

From the doorway golden light spilled in, and once again the eyeless Golem turned to greet this new foe. Standing at the entrance of the room was Bahn, morning star and holy symbol in hand, a blackened wound still gaping from the crossbow bolt. Worlds had to avert his gaze as the light intensified, and with a shout of praise to At'ar, the cleric began to grow in size, weapon's and armor changing with him until he stood as tall as the man of clay.

The Golem charged again but this time his opponent was ready, and Bahn set his large shield to meet the blow- not giving an inch as the mountain of clay came down on him. His morning star now the size of a felled tree he swung mightily, Worlds only able to watch, his vision swimming as the Cleric traded blow for blow. The simple morning-star was able to do what all the others could not. Chunks of clay rained down as the Golem was whittled away, Bahn's swings so powerful that even this creature of magic and earth could not withstand them.

The construct would fight until it was dust, and fight it did. A few hits hammered past the sun emblazoned shield, ringing on the cleric's breatplate almost as loud as the sonic wave Worlds had unleashed minutes before. With a snarl Bahn finally sunk his morning-star deep into the constructs head, now a cratered and marred lump, no longer the smooth surface of a faceless Golem.

The clay figure toppled to the ground, the damage it had sustained too much for even the powerful magic it contained to hold it together. Bahn's ragged breathing echoed in the chamber, and as he shrank in size, he collapsed on the ground, the wounds he had sustained taking their toll in full. Worlds struggled to his feet, as did Chronicle, and they walked slowly over to the fallen Cleric. There was no expression on the sun elf's face as he pulled out the wand of blue wood and unleashed its magic on the cleric, his breathing becoming easier as the magic healed some internal injury.

Worlds glanced with surprise at Chronicle; he had never seen help a human, or anyone, before.

"What?" asked Chronicle. He waved at the massive blocks of clay. "There could be more of them."


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## Lwaxy (Aug 19, 2012)

Looks interesting, just too tired to read it all now hehe. 

I'll be sure to follow.


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## The Watcher (Aug 27, 2012)

*Kneel Mindslave!: Volume III*

Sunlight streamed in thick through the small stone gap that served as a window. Morning was upon them and Worlds sighed as Wren's voice echoed into the chamber from the hallway; he preferred him when he was knocked unconscious. Swinging his legs over the bed and sitting up, he gasped in pain. The Golem must have bruised his knee when it had thrown him bodily across the room, a wound he had failed to notice during their stumbling retreat to the soldier's quarters after the battle.

"Wounded?" asked a voice from the doorway. Worlds glanced up to see Bahn standing in the doorway, fully armored and entirely whole. He looked amused. "I could help you know."

"I assure you I can manage." Worlds said curtly, hand gripping his knee as he stretched in out straight, sheer force of will keeping the pain from showing on his face.

"You know you don't have to worship At'ar for me to bestow his blessings upon you. The sun shines on all of us." Bahn pressed, his look of concern pushing the psion over the edge.

"I don't need your murmured prayers, god-slave." Worlds spat back. "You're like a beggar in the street with your cup out. Go curse the clouds."

Bahn smiled in return, saint-like, and left the chamber. The psion grimaced, then took a deep breath. Healing himself using his mental gifts did not come easily to Worlds. He was a kineticist, able to channel energy into devastating blasts at will: awe inspiring in combat to be sure, but it seemed to ignore the inevitable aftermath such violence wrought. Light slowly began to spill from his swirling tattoos, not harsh as it was in battle, but glowing gently, pulsing as he began mending his wounds.

Ten minutes later Worlds stepped outside the small room, testing his knee. The others were beginning their final preparations for the day as well; even Red was up and about- surprising considering the grievous wounds he had suffered at the Golem's hands. He probably hadn't turned down the cleric's offerred healing.

They met in the ruined laboratory around the cracked lumps of clay and smeared summoning circle that sat half completed on the ground. Broken glass bottles cracked underfoot.

"Well, we still have the upper levels of the tower to explore. Hopefully there aren't anymore of these," Red said, kicking a large lump of clay, "and it will be some easy looting. Chronicle informs me that he doubts we've met whoever made the Golem, so be wary of spellslingers. The good news is since no one came down during the night, I assume the rest of the tower is empty."

"Not like a wizard to leave his tower..." Wren said, and everyone fell silent for a moment.

Then, simultaneously, three of them cried out in unison. "Someone just teleported in!" Worlds and Chronicle looked at each other, then turned their heads towards the last voice, Wren. How did the rogue do it? Red's rifle was up in a flash and the party raced for the stairs.

Just a floor above them...

A sudden crack of displaced air is all the heralded the arrival of Tarian the Red. He gasped, and fell to one knee. Safety. The toll had been steep, the price so very high. Almost more than he had prepared for, but desperation and impeccable planning had gotten him through. The guardians had been resolute in their duty, but it was the wards, yes it was the wards that had almost been his undoing. It had taken all of his own magical might and intelligence to hold them at bay while he stole the gem. He couldn't have ever broken through them- not one man, not the towering wards made by the greatest sylvan magi in history. But his theory had worked, and the years of research and seclusion coming to fruition was enough to bring him to one knee by itself, even if he wasn't so drained and battered.

Shaking he rose, he looked down at his fist, white with tension, still clutching the black stone. The long legs of a Scarlet Spider  sprung from his pocket and skittered down his leg. Yes, he thought, no time for rest. He stepped quickly after his familiar as it began to gather up notes for him.

Before his hand could touch parchment though, he froze, back straightening. Only he could hear the sound that seemed to echo through the chamber. A warning spell, subtle, that he had laid on the alcove in front of his door. Someone was outside, and racing to get in. He had only half a second, and with a flick of his wrist sent the black stone sailing across the room to land behind a potion rack on the table. He would need both hands for what was to come.

Worlds glowed brightly as a cone of sonic energy spilled from his gaze and literally shook the door apart, the cross bar on the other side clattering to the ground. Red kicked the door open, and Worlds and Chronicle leading the charge in. They had known anyone who teleported in would be a caster, most likely a Red Wizard, and he would not be a mere mageling like the boy with the toad.

And they were not disappointed. He was just starting to call out words of power, his gaze of pure hatred fixed on the companions leaving little to the imagination as to his intentions.

Worlds let loose a burst of electricity at the wizard, a second crack of splitting air filling the chamber. The wizard continued chanting even as his robes were seared to his flesh- a feat Worlds didn't know if he was even capable of. Chronicle leapt past, his glaive swinging in a perfect arc to cleave the man's head off.

Before he could reach him the Wizard's voice reached a crescendo and a wall of ice solidified out of the air, Chronicle slamming into it. Even through the barrier Worlds could see the man fix his gaze on him as he pulled out a wand and pointed it off to the side.

Red suddenly doubted their ability to finish this fight as the scarlet spider on the far wall grew to massive proportions. HIs rifle rang out, the spider screeching in pain, then jumping up to climb the wall behind the barrier of ice. This would be a fight to remember.

"Myr. To my side. Now." Tarian called out with his mind, reaching for the Thayan knight. Nothing. No telltale echo to let him know she had heard. He did see the glowing man tilt his head to the side as his mental cry went unheeded. Ah, a psion, a mage of the mind. A contemptible way to practice magic: let them burn at the hands of a true wizard.

Wren tumbled off to the side, whirling his kusarigama, lashing out at the spider with the reach the red hot chain connecting his kamas allowed him to. He missed, and the spider edged its way above the wizard and barrier of ice- in the perfect position to protect it's master.

Bahn ran into the room, mace held high, eyes wide at the size of the spider currently sparring with Wren. Just as he let out a battle cry, small blades of pure force shot unerringly around the wall of ice from the Wizard's hand, slamming into him, promptly throwing him to the ground.

"The Wizard is skilled, there is no doubt of that," Chronicle realized as he called on his arcane magic to make his next strike land true. The Scarlet Spider screeched as his glaive hit home, leaving a gash on it that spilled foul ichor. Tarian slung spell after spell at the companions, sprays of color, more blades of force, and gales of wind were summoned up one after the other, a maelstrom of magical mastery.

Worlds watched Red slump back in an enchanted slumber, and Bahn curse as the blades of force once again slammed into him. The Spider on the wall danced back and forth, stabbing out at Chronicle and Wren, allowing neither to pass the sides of the ice barrier that kept the Magi safe.

Pouring his will into a single blow, Worlds slashed out with his staff, telekinetic energy slicing above the wall to crash into the enlarged familiar. If it could have cried out it would have, two long legs falling severed to the ground behind its master. Unable to dance as nimbly, Chonicle and Wren's weapons made quick work of it.

The spider shrunk in death, falling off the chamber wall to the ground to land amongst its severed legs. Tarian flew into a rage. Twisting a hand like a claw, a mote of energy sailed over the wall, lit like a small sun.

The fire that blossomed from it was all consuming, sucking the air from the room and turning it to scorching wind. Worlds fell back, burned, as did Red and Bahn. Chronicle and Wren were blown backwards by the force of the explosion, the normally nimble Magus and Rogue crashing to the floor.

And through the smoke the Red Wizard remained, his gaze at the psion unbroken. Worlds looked up from his crouched position and saw Tarian preparing yet another onslaught of deadly magic. Such strength and prowess; Worlds had never faced a foe that had so completely dispensed of the party's combined efforts.

Ice dripped on the floor, sounding loud in the vacuum of the powerful spell's roar, and Worlds realized that the mage had melted his own ice wall partially with such a blast of fire. In fact the Red Wizard was standing in a puddle of melted ice, chanting.

Worlds smiled as he pointed his tattooed arm not at the Wizard, but at the water in front of the wall. Once again electricity arced from his fingers and slammed into the water, lighting it as the current blew through it in a brilliant semi-circle, straight to the feet of the Wizard.

Tarian's jaw closed fast and refused to open, his precise casting patterns becoming spastic jerks as he danced with electricity. Smoke rose from his fried body and he flew backwards to land next to his dead familiar, limbs jerking in the air with the last bits of life, mirroring the spider.

Worlds stood, glowing with residual light, a beacon in the smoke and steam. Soon the others collected themselves, Red sheepishly refusing to make eye contact with anyone. This didn't go unnoticed, or deter, Wren.

"Sorry to wake you Sarge, must have been having some pleasant dreams to drop like that" he said, wide grin plastered on his face.

Red turned away, muttering about magic users and not playing fair. Slowly they began to investigate the extensive laboratory and the treasures that Tarian had accumulated over the years. Wren grabbed up potions, Red had bags of coin and bars of gold. Bahn groaned on the floor. Chronicle took the wizards spellbook from his robs, many spells beyond his power recorded for the taking.

Worlds looked over the room, reaching out with his will for items of a psionic nature. Arcane magic blossomed and flowed around the room, but a small bubble of a psionic energy, a subtle call to him from behind a rack of half finished potions. He reached behind the glassware, half melted from the heat, and picked up a small black gen, beautifully cut.

And then it spoke.


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## The Watcher (Aug 27, 2012)

Sorry if there are any glaring errors- I'll fix them tomorrow. Again, if anyone has any questions or suggestions feel free to leave them


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## Azkorra (Aug 31, 2012)

Very entertaining read so far. 

It would be great, however, if you could provide some character background at the beginning of this thread to allow me and my fellow readers to get a little bit more familiar with the PCs.


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## Lwaxy (Sep 1, 2012)

Yeah or, if not at the beginning, add it to the story as a flashback or something.


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## The Watcher (Sep 2, 2012)

*Kneel Mindslave!: Volume .5*

Thanks for the responses, its very encouraging to know that people are enjoying what I'm writing. I added some character descriptions at the top of the thread that should help identify the characters.

I also have a little story I wrote about our first session back when we started that kind of shows how everyone met each other. It's a little rough but I think its an entertaining read. Hope you enjoy!
_________________________________________________________________

The tavern sat slumped between two buildings, wooden sign swinging tiredly in the smog of the city of gems. A painting of a gnome half submerged in a tankard his own size hung fading, chipped letters proclaiming it "The Thirsty Gnome".

Mr. Worlds stood across the street, staring at the sign with obvious hatred. Mr. Chronicle looked on with a blank face, detached and unreadable. Worlds glanced at his companion, who was drawing stares from commoners as they walked by. His physical appearance was regal, Chronicle's sun elf heritage as obvious as his long hair of beaten gold. Mr. Worlds remembered having hair before it all had fallen out as a child, yellow too, but hair of straw. There certainly wasn't any gold in his village. His mind didn't wander long though. It never did. 

"There is no mistake, this is where we were referred. A man named Marcus apparently works out of this... establishment," Chronicle said in a melodious voice, confirming Worlds's fears. With unearthly grace Chronicle walked through the heavy traffic, and Worlds lingering for a moment before following.

"Gnomes. Why does it have to be gnomes?"

Crowded and grimy, the one room was filled to capacity, complete with a half-orc standing menacingly near the gambling tables. Gnomes squeezing through holes in the crowd, their shrill voices adding a layer of unbearable to an already uncomfortable setting. Behind the bar was an ancient gnome, the many posters adorning the walls heralding his exploits as renowned boxer "Freddie Fast Fingers", justifying his crooked nose and drooping eye.

"Remain calm. I believe I see our new employer in the corner."

Worlds clutched his staff until his knuckles whitened. Only thoughts of watching the entire building burn kept him sane as gnomes scurried to and fro under him.

Making their way to the rear of the bar the duo stood at the back corner booth, almost entirely occupied by a single man, face glistening with sweat as he poured over a mountain of papers. Sitting in chairs around the outside of the table were three other individuals. One dressed in dark leather armor, twirling a worn copper between his gloved fingers as he looked longingly at the gambling tables. The second sat upright at attention, revealing his military background. The third had light colored robes covering ornate armor with faded engravings the sun adorning it. All four looked up as Chronicle looked down on them, literally and figuratively.

"Ah! You're here, all here... excellent, excellent. Yes, this is... perfect." Shuffling through the pile of papers, Marcus pulled up bundles of parchment and laid them on the top of the pile.

"Please gentlemen, take a seat. We have much to discuss! I am glad you have all come to hear this exciting opportunity."

The copper stopped twirling in Wren's hand long enough for him to flick his gaze at Marcus. "Looks like we could all use an 'exciting opportunity'. You especially my friend".

Marcus gave a small nod before unrolling a large map. "I will be the first to admit that certain business ventures have gone awry in the past, due to the war of course, but this is ideally suited for all of our needs. If you look at the area outlined on this map it is the surrounding landscape of an iron mine, one that lies just a few days travel to the north of 'Zula. I own the mine, and in the last few months kobolds have taken residence, driving out the workers I hired and using it as... some sort of nesting ground," Marcus shuddered.

"Kobolds? They're hardly the fiercest of opponents. They squabble amongst themselves and are barely organized enough to mount an effective defense. Why have you waited months to oust them?" Red spoke up, studying the map intently.

"Oh I have hired men to do just that, two parties not unlike yourselves. They have... yet to return. It is my understanding... that these kobolds aren't alone, and that hobgoblins control the lower portion of the mine, using the kobolds as labor and fodder for their own... adept defenses."

Cleric chuckled under his hood "So what you mean is Hobgoblins have taken over and fortified your mine, and you want the five of us to somehow roust them? That is sand of a different color my large friend."

Red threw a sharp gaze at Marcus. "Very different. Sending small parties of men to their front door... its no wonder you haven't heard from them."

Chronicle coughed lightly, "I assume there is another way into the mine? Certainly you see the folly in re-enacting your previous failures."

Marcus looked flustered for a moment before saying "There is another way into the mine... though it is more exotic. The price I have agreed to pay each of you should reflect this new obstacle." Sweat seemed to be pouring freely down his face now, the sheen turning into a waterfall.

"What is the promised price? And where is this new entrance?" Worlds said, cutting through Marcus's mumbling.

"The promised price is 400 gold pieces to each of you upon your return, along with anything of value the Hobgoblins possess. Nothing is to taken from the mine however which remains, to this day, in my possession. Secondly, the entrance to the...umm...mine... is here, to the northwest, in the Snakewoods. It should lead you to the bottom of the mine by my estimation," he finished quickly.

Red studied the map more intently. "That can't be right. This is miles away from the main entrance to the north..."

Wren chuckled "Let alone where the entrance is. I know a guy who is friends with this bloke who told him that the plains between here and the Snakewood is serious giant stomping ground if you catch my drift. And the Snakewood is full of Wood elves who love their trees a lot more than outsiders."

Marcus collected himself. "I said the price reflected the additional travel...underground. As far as the elves go, there is a reason I have gone through the trouble of finding someone of elven blood..."

"No." Chronicle cut him off. "They are wood elves, I am a sun elf. There is no guarantee they will allow us passage due to my presence, and no reason why they would. Regardless, I am tempted to accept your offer for reasons of my own."

Marcus looked encouraged by Mr. Chronicle's acceptance of his proposal. "Yes, as I said this is a good opportunity for all involved."

Worlds studied the men surrounding the table as they continued to question the specifics of their contracts. He knew why Chronicle had accepted, simply put they needed the gold. Having come to the city of gems to find a renowned alchemist rumored to have created an elixir to increase the arcane potency of spells, they seem to have arrived twenty years too late. As with most of Chronicle's information, he appeared to forget about the comparatively quick pace of human life, something that Worlds never forgot. Next to his comparatively timeless companion, Worlds was a bright flame burning out quick. Realizing his mind might wander more then he realized, his attention returned to the task at hand.

Marcus mopped his brow, head bobbing up and down. "Very well, a fourth of the payment up front, but only because of the increase in distance that needs to be travelled! The rest will be gotten upon your return with proof the hobgoblins and kobolds have been dealt with."

Everyone nodded their agreement and signed their contracts. Marcus gathered them up and carefully set them to the side, wishing them a hasty and safe return.


Two weeks later...


The sea of swaying grass stretched to the horizon which was only broken by a single figure standing tall. He had been steadily growing larger as he marched towards them for the better part of an hour when he had first been spotted.

"Hill giant. No mistaking them. And not a surprise considering where we are." Red said, his head just raised above the foliage.

"Well I'm not going to say we couldn't kill him, but it seems if we just lay low there is no reason for him not to stroll on by and we each go on our merry ways," Wren said, nervously twirling his kusarigama.

"There is no reason to endanger ourselves. Staying out of sight seems our best course of action." Worlds added, watching the giant trudge ever closer.

Weapons out and ready, the party took cover and waited. The ground started to shake with heavy footfalls, and Worlds glanced over at Chronicle, who gave a slight nod before standing up in plain view. The giant stopped and looked directly at the elf with his glaive pointed at his throat. The giant grinned, teeth the size of tombstones, and raised it's tree trunk of a club, the mere fact it could heft such a weapon an impressive show of strength.

As the club reached its apex above his head, Worlds eyes and tattoos started to spill forth with the light of excess energy. The giant suddenly staggered back, clutching its head with a hand and roaring in pain. It wasn't enough though, and the giant swept the club down at Chronicle, who was already backing out of range.

An explosion from the back of the giant as Red fired his rifle, the small wound drawing a stream of blood down it's hip. A shout to Amaunator, and Cleric burst from the brush, trying to charge in close while the giant was busy with Chronicle. Before he could close the distance the giant swung his club back, and even with his shield raised to take the blow, twisted his arm with a sickening crunch, throwing him on his back.

The giant reeled as Wren leapt up from behind, his blades carving lines of bright red, and staggered as Worlds continued to assault his mind.

A final shot from Red and the giant came crashing to his knees, howls becoming whimpers as Chronicle calmly walked up and beheaded their opponent with a sweep of his pole arm.

"Warning... of your plan would have been... a courtesy," gasped cleric as his bones mended with a prayer to At'ar.

"I saw we had the advantage, and acted accordingly. Besides he had something we needed."

Wren paused from wiping his blades on the giant's rags. "What? A giant head? You gonna lug that all the way across the plains?"

Chronicle didn't dignify the question with a response, just cleaned his own blade and grabbed the hair of the giant's head, hoisting it over his back as they walked. 


Two days later...


"I told you, there is no way to sneak through elven woods." Red said, hands held up in surrender.

"Well if you all had let me go alone then maybe there would be." Wren said from his knees. Surrounding the companions were ten wood elves with arrows nocked, and almost certainly there were more hidden all around them, unable to be seen with human eyes.

Worlds stared at the ground. He knew better then to reach out and try to sense the presence of their woodland assailants, it would surely mean his death at the least; the wood elves of the Snakewood knew better then to trust most humans.

Chronicle began speaking in Slyvan, choosing his words carefully. Two elves stared at him for a moment saying nothing, then watched as Chronicle dropped the giant's head on the ground. A whispered conversation later, and Chronicle turned to the rest of the party.

"They wish to question us further about our motives. Do not make any sudden movements or convey your love of red meat."

A day later...

"So we need to go to a sodding giant spider nest so they can make us enough provisions to survive the underdark? Wow, there was a sentence I didn't think I would ever say..." Wren complained, fingers never staying still. "How were we supposed to know it would take this long to bloody get here?"

"While I am able to survive without... elementary forms of sustenance, it seems the rest of you are incapable of doing so." Worlds replied, watching the elves move through the trees above them.

"Yeah, you mentioned that. Great help you are, at least the cleric can make water."

"Perhaps you should learn to live without it. I do."

"...Well... you're bald." Wren pouted, kicking a rock and sending it tumbling down a mossy bank.


A few hours later...


"THE SPIDERS! THE SPIDERS!" the Cleric shrieked as hundreds of young spilled from the open wound on their dead mother, covering him as he struggled to break free from the web.

"More on the way!" Wren yelled as he swept a blade at the spider's leg, yanking the chain back to sever the limb and sending the spider crashing off to the side.

"WHY DID YOU ATTACK THE MAIN TUNNEL??" Red roared even louder then his firearm, the flash and sting of the bullet driving a spider back.

"I saw we had the advantage and acted accordin-"

"DON'T YOU DARE USE THAT EXCUSE AGAIN!"

A swarm of smaller spiders rushed Worlds, who raised his hand and sent a wave of razor sharp crystal shards to meet them, grinding them to gore in a moment. Chronicle used the reach the glaive afforded him to keep the larger spiders at bay while Red fired shot after shot down the tunnel.

"Time to go!" Wren called as the spiders fell back to regroup, hoisting Bahn up and retreating from the enclosed space.

"The spiders... the spiders... why?" Bahn groaned, dozens of small wounds covering his body.

"Maybe you should have prayed harder to your God." Worlds replied with a hint of a smile as they fled through the woods, spiders skittering just a few steps behind.


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