Lord Wyron

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

ℜ𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱

---

With everyone in agreement, Renault nodded once, a simple action that seemed to drain whatever little stamina he had left after the extended skirmish they had all participated in. Not willing to give himself up to exhaustion yet, Renault kept a hand near the hilt of his blade in case a surprise should call need for it.

"Onward, then." He said, taking point in retracing the party's steps towards where they first entered the tunnels below. Burrowing creatures that the rats were, the lot of them would have to suffice with climbing out of the pit, but the drop was not steep, and no doubt, with a little aid, they all should be able to crawl out without issue.

All Renault felt in that moment was a want of food, bath, and rest. Every part of hi hurt; his arm and leg still stung with the rancid bite marks of the pests, and it was more than likely that tomorrow would only bring on more agony. But there was excitement, too. If only for a few fleeting moments, Renault felt his life's purpose return to him, that same energy that prompted him to draw his blade in the first place.

He would think on this tonight.

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

ℜ𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱

---

In the death throes of the infernal creature lit aflame, Renault couldn't help but let his shield and blade clatter to the damp, rancid floor as gauntleted hands clasped around his ears. The rat's screams seemed to bleed past one's normal hearing; piercing into the very soul. With a dread silence almost instantly following, Renault took a few moments before his faculties returned to him, sheepishly gathering his equipment from the ground and doing a quick cleaning of his blade before returning it to his scabbard.

There was still a tingling left in his fingers. The power that coursed through them just seconds earlier, like a white-hot flame that touched, but did not burn him. A holy light darkened, dimmed inside himself for as long as he remembered. Did the presence of this...Evil bring it out of him on instinct alone? Or were greater things at work? The Order taught the Paladins humility and submissiveness, not merely to prevent arrogance, but to show them how grand and incomprehensible the gods were. For even the least among the divines would see the best humanity had to offer as nothing more than an insect.

But seeing this, knowing this, Erithar chose from the millions a portion who were tasked with wielding His divine will. They would follow His tenets, obey His laws, and receive awesome power in return. Was that why Renault was here? Why he had been thrown into that cell in the first place? After years of aimless wandering, without hope and purpose...maybe this was his Patron's will after all.

With the immediateness of the now again returning to him, Renault was all but overwhelmed by a fresh wave of tiredness that washed over him. Resisting the urge to sit down and rest here on willpower alone, Renault did his best to avert the gruesome sight of the perished Brood-Mother.

"We best make our way out of here, before more of them show up. It's more than likely that any stragglers will scramble, nest elsewhere. Hopefully far away."

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

ℜ𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱

---

Was the rat accursed? Or were they? With every arrow, fist, and bladed edge that found their mark, the rat seemed to only grow further frenzied and enraged. Blood and pus seeped from every orifice, but the rat still fought. It was in that moment mere seconds ago that Renault's blood chilled in his veins. The creature they were fighting was no mere animal, no. Something far darker was bound to it: a force that seemed restricted to men and devils.

Zeal guided his arm, the force of will that Renault had not felt for many years. He remembered the tenets of the Order, their righteous and unyielding crusade against the forces of either. They were not to question, not to doubt, to draw their blades with full and virtuous intent; shielded just as much by faith as plate and chain-mail.

Calling on buried powers, Renault arced his arm back once more, bringing his blade down with the same force that one might strike a cloister bell with a hammer. He would see this wretched creature slain.

Attack on Broodmother Rat (Holy Smite)

13

Damage on Broodmother Rat (Holy Smite)

10

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

ℜ𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱

---

With wind knocked out of him as Quentin's armored form slammed backwards into him, wheezes and painful, sharp-taken breaths forced their way out of Renault like a set of bellows that had been struck unceremoniously by a war-hammer. Quickly recovering as adrenaline, once more, coursed through his tired limbs, Renault's eyes seemed to widen in fear at the sight of the brood-mother. A bloated, tumorous creature, gorged on fouled gases, ill-begotten meat, and likely more spawn that would crawl their way out of her in time.

The wounds inflicted by Tracan had sent the beast into a fury, and though its charge was repelled by the defiance of Quentin's shield, he and Renault were now left face-to-face with the monster. Having kept his blade close-by as soon as Gorosk had recovered from his wounds, Renault swung his sword about in his hand for a few moments. Rather than an ostentatious display of dexterity as many arrogant swordsman were wont to do, Renault was centering his grip, flexing his wrist on what was likely be the mightiest foe they would face.

Now held firmly in his grasp, Renault took a step forward, arcing his sword downward in a cleaving motion. A well-guided hit could severely injure, if not cripple the creature outright. Though Renault had not prayed in years before today, a single thought swept through his mind, one that he heard daily in years past.

'Erithar, give me strength.'

Attack Roll against Brood-Mother Rat

12

Damage Roll against Brood-Mother Rat (if a hit)

3

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

ℜ𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱

---

Running a gloved hand through matted, sweat-stained hair, Renault seemed, for a moment, to have not heard the Goliath addressing him. Sheathing his blade, he let loose a shaky breath as the adrenaline that shot through his veins like fire now slowly began to fade. Fatigue and soreness replaced them, his muscles weakly crying out with every movement he made.

His head turned toward Vah'lux as the source of the voice, Renault seemed confused for a moment before remembrance spurned him to action. Investigating his pack, he wrapped fingers around one of the two glass bottles. Even in this darkened place, the liquid inside, thick and crimson, seemed almost to glow when held at just the right angle.

The herblore and plant remedies that went into brewing such potions were lost on Renault. He and many other Paladins had once prided themselves on their ability to heal injury and knit together wounds with naught but the touch of their fingers, channeling their faith into being. But the monks, alchemists, and physicians who kept close their secrets of brewing liquid remedies would forever remain unappreciated; a sacrifice made for humility's sake.

Kneeling down besides their fallen companion, Renault took great care to avoid further agitating any of his wounds. At the very least, however, the clothes Gorosk wore would be a permanent casualty to their mission. Uncorking the bottle with a slightly audible pop, Renault held the lip of the bottle to Gorosk's mouth, using his free hand to tilt the fallen Half-Orc's head back, just slightly enough to help ease the concoction down.

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

ℜ𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱

---

It would have been easy for any of them to underestimate the dangers of this land, filled with an undue confidence. After all, this mission seemed like naught but mere pest control, no? All that faded the instant Gorosk fell, his clothing now rapidly stained crimson as fresh blood flowed from deep wounds inflicted from the last of the larger rats, frenzied with pain and fanatic in its defense of the burrows that the adventurers had intruded upon.

Shifting his attention to the rat that had incapacitated their companion, Renault hoped to take advantage of its distracted state, trusting that de Bray or Vah'lux could deal with the last of the rat spawn. With the heat of battle dulling the pain from the wounds in his leg and his arm, Renault moved as fast as he was able to, hoping to attack the dire rat from the flank.

Attack on Dire Rat

11

Damageon Dire Rat

5

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

ℜ𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱

---

Now assailed by the full might of the party, adrenaline spurned the rats to action: their base instinct turned to tactics and low cunning. Strong as their teeth could be, none of the rats were able to pierce through Quentin's chain mail. Having tasted the bite of Vah'lux's axe and the cold burning steel of Renault's own blade, they sought a seemingly less-equipped foe: Gorosk.

The final of the adult rats leapt on the Half-Orc's back, frantically clawing at his exposed and unarmored flesh. First turning to provide aid, Renault was waylaid by two of the brood working in conjunction against him, quite literally throwing themselves against him with little rhyme or reason. They fought as any young animal would: nothing held back, trying desperately to overwhelm a foe much larger and stronger than itself. The almost frightening craftiness of these overgrown rodents was not inherent, but taught, it seemed.

With the fatigue of battle turning his breaths to ragged heaves, Renault used a portion of the strength he had left to answer the rats' call with an answer of his own, thrusting his blade in hopes of catching one of them in their onslaught.

Attack Roll on Baby Rat

24 (Natural 20)

Critical Roll on Baby Rat

22

Damage Roll on Baby Rat

9 + 10 = 19

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

ℜ𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱

---

The screeching - dear gods the screeching. Renault now understood why the Order had seemed so certain these wretched things were infernal in origin: no creature made by a benevolent god would be capable of uttering a sound like that.

As Vah'lux's axe cleaved into the matted fur and scabbed, leathery skin of the rat, its grip on his arm was torn away, prompting another cry of pain from Renault. He could already feel the sticky wet blood starting to form beneath his armor, in time with the throbbing pain that accompanied every hurried beat of his heart.

Turning to meet eyes with their Goliath companion, Renault nodded once in thanks, a bewildered expression plain on his features. Without time to say or do anything, the rat that was now desperately trying to escape began scurrying past them. Renault took a wild swing at it, unbalanced and haphazard without the dangling weight of the rat hanging off his arm. Predictably, his attack missed, as did any attacks made by the others. As much as Renault dreaded the thought of leaving so much as one of these rats alive, he knew full-well that such a task was insurmountable. They'd accomplish nothing merely stacking bodies in a pile, they had to destroy the nest, displace the rest of them.

Seeing the scores of young rats assail de Bray and be repelled by his armor, Renault wracked his brain for any possible ideas. The lantern at his hip could be a makeshift firebomb, if used accurately and with precision. But that would leave them with no light, if only temporarily. The foes they were facing were weak: but possessed unnaturally gifted senses that gave them an edge. Without sight, the lot of them would be almost certainly ambushed and overwhelmed. No...they'd have to think of something else.

Seeing no other immediate option, Renault took a swing at one of the young rats, hoping to take advantage of its distracted state.

Attack Roll on Baby Rat

12

Damage Roll on Baby Rat

3 (Natural 1)

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

ℜ𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱

---

Any doubts Renault might have had about the rats' intelligence were swiftly allayed when one of the larger vanguards clamped its rotten jaws around his sword arm, sending waves of sharp, shooting pain all the way up his arm and shoulder. The scale armor he wore was decent for skirmishers; combining a decent amount of defense without hindering mobility, but that came at the cost of leaving his arms comparatively unprotected. While Renault was uncertain whether the rat's teeth had chewed through the scales or not, he was all-but-certain that the skin was broken.

Now forced to hold his arm outstretched, blade pointed aloft, Renault at first tried to simply shake the wretched thing off, but found that he wasn't able to build up enough speed or intensity to do anything more than mildly jerk it about, only grinding its teeth further into his flesh. With a cry of pain in his throat that escaped his grit teeth in a hissing seethe, Renault instead tried to bash the edge of his shield against the rat with any strength his free arm could muster. He knew that, distracted as he was, he was at greater risk of being overwhelmed and waylaid by even the smallest of the brood. His compatriots would certainly help, but a helpless soldier could be more trouble than he was worth.

D&D 3.5e - The Marches of the Savage Realm

ℜ𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔱

---

Putting the chest and its mysterious contents behind him, Renault turned his focus to the tunnels that stretched out from the chamber they were in. Two seemed to lead back towards the farm and field, explaining the earlier ambush that first indicated they were not alone here. A third tunnel stuck out: one whose orientation shifted slightly downward. If any of these tunnels would lead to the heart of the nest, Renault was willing to bet what gold he had that this was it.

Absently checking the lantern to make sure they had enough oil to last - they did - Renault took point and hobbled towards the entryway, stopping before the threshold waiting for his companions to follow. "I've not heard of rats burrowing like this before." He muttered, part to himself and part to the others. It was true, the rat burrows he'd encountered were of smaller size, less ambitious construction. These tunnels wouldn't be out-of-place belonging to goblins or other such foul creatures who lived their desperate, scrounging lives underground. The very air here put Renault on edge: men were not meant to hide away from sun-and-sky.

"Let's move out, then, before we find ourselves trapped again." He spoke again, this time with more certainty in his voice. He wasn't looking forward to navigating the cramped tunnels, again, particularly with the looming threat of attack. But it would be harder for the rats to properly ambush a moving target.