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[talien]

Vlad appeared within a hermetic circle inside a large cave, polluted by the stench of death. Ahead was a dark figure clad in whipping yellow robes, outlined by the light of a white disk of pulsing energy projected by a small metal box on the floor. Inside the field was a k’n-yan army, all fighting to break through. Dozens of bodies lay all around, blood still pumping form their slashed throats. They were grievously wounded, but a few groans suggested they were not all dead.

Beldin was already advancing. Two byakhee barred his path.

“Quelch!” snarled Vlad. “It’s over!”

Elijah Quelch was a big, fat man with long black hair and a full beard. His age was difficult to guess.

“I don’t think so,” snarled Quelch. He pointed at Vlad, muttering something in Hasturic. Vlad’s legs went rigid. It was the same spell that had paralyzed him last time.

“Try that on me!” bellowed Beldin. He batted aside one of the byakhee, accustomed to fighting them. The creature leap frogged over him so that the dwarf was besieged by the creatures from both sides.

“As for you…” Quelch pointed at Beldin and a sizzling ray of black energy sliced into him. The dwarf writhed in pain.

One of the byakhee landed on top of Beldin, pinning him to the ground.

“No!” Vlad struggled against the magic that held him. “I won’t…let you!” He drew his crossbow and fired.

The bolt bounced off of Quelch’s chest. He grinned. “There’s no canal to save you this time.”

One of the byakhee screeched in agony as Beldin hacked off its wing. It rolled off of the dwarf warrior, who struggled to his feet.

Through sheer force of will alone, Vlad willed his feet to move. He took one slow, shuddering step towards Quelch.

Beldin brought his axe down on the second byakhee’s neck, beheading it. He turned to face Quelch…

Only to be hoisted into the area by a forest of writhing yellow tentacles.

Vlad cursed. It was happening again, just like last time. Where was Kham?

He took another step. Quelch was ignoring him.

The cultist chanted something blasphemous and Beldin, helpless in the tentacles, went rigid. As he started the spell, the air seemed to come alive. The chant was a shrill, inhuman scream and came from all around.

Vlad had seen the spell before. It would drain the energy right out of the dwarf, turning him into a withered husk that would crumble into powder. Quelch used the spell to feast on vagrants in Freeport. It was only due to Beldin’s incredible durability that he survived at all.

Quelch seemed to grow stronger and stronger as each second passed. And as each second passed, Vlad took one more step.

“Why won’t you die?” shouted Quelch in frustration at Beldin. The dwarf’s eyes and mouth trailed smoke, but still he writhed in pain in the tentacles.

“You first!” shouted Vlad. He thrust Grungronazharr through Quelch’s ribcage.

The spell ended with a choked gurgle. The tentacles receded. Beldin fell to the ground.

Quelch turned to face his assailant. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Then he collapsed, dead.