shilsen
Adventurer
And here, as promised, is the conclusion to the rakshasa arc and the issue of the Key:
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As the demon appears, Zathara smiles and says, “Good – I need more energy here.” Instantly, an amber beam shoots from the Key to the glabrezu’s chest. As it hits, the demon smiles and says, “Certainly.”
And then suddenly looks worried. The beam whiplashes suddenly, just as the one connected to Nethatar had done as she died, and the glabrezu is hurled suddenly through the air as if its huge bulk had no weight at all. It grunts in surprise, and then its body impacts the wall that Nethatar’s corpse had sunk into. The demon screams in agony, as its form begins to flake away incredibly fast, just as the dead rakshasa’s had. It thrashes around, but continues to sink deeper into the lava.
In barely three seconds, the surprised watchers see the surface of its body ripped away, leaving bloody muscle, organs and bone, which continues to dissolve. Yet, somehow, the demon is still alive. Desperately, it attempts to concentrate and teleport out of the lava, but the intense damage being inflicted overcomes even its unearthly vitality and the attempt fails. With one despairing scream that trails off as what remains of its throat flakes away, it falls into nothingness. Unlike Nethatar, whose equipment floats away slowly through the lava, there is nothing to indicate the passing of the glabrezu.
“What the hell just happened?” asks Luna mentally.
A voice in the collective heads of the Angels begins to reply, “I cannot be completely sure, and since I am dead…”
A collective mental groan replies, as does the snapped command from Nameless, “Screw it! Just get him!” As one, the Angels hurl themselves at the stunned Zathara.
The rakshasa has been watching with shock written clearly across its white-furred countenance, as the demon dies, and the amber beam to it fades and dies. The cone of light pulses brightly for a moment and then fades slightly. Zathara looks down and places a paw uncertainly on the Key, and then raises its head to glare at the attackers.
As another dispel from Korm strips off more of his protections, an onrushing Luna rakes his chest and tries to catch him in a non-metaphoric bear hug. Unfortunately, Zathara’s natural resistances render the damage negligible, and he is still protected by a freedom of movement.
Zathara snarls his rage and confusion at what just transpired and steps out of her grasp, before casting another spell. His paw is ringed with life-sapping sable flames as he slams it down on Luna’s head. Already wounded, the druid cannot resist, and she feels a cold draining sensation, like an icy fist surrounding her heart. The fist contracts and squeezes. Luna’s heart throbs once, then more weakly again, and then stops. And she drops dead to the floor at Zathara’s feet*, as he rises into the air.
Unseen to the others, Luna’s soul begins to spiral up and away, seeking its way to Dolurrh. Then, it pauses for a second to gaze back at the darkness of the body it once inhabited. There is something occurring within the darkness. A tiny silvery light gleams. For the moment, the Angels are all connected to the Silver Flame, and though it cannot fully keep them from death, it can hold a spirit in a ravaged body for a second longer than it should remain.
Luckily for Luna, that second is just long enough. Gareth, rushing in behind her, may no longer be a paladin, but he is still a cleric and an Exorcist of the Silver Flame. Momentarily forgetting his own sorrow and confusion, he places a hand on her corpse, hoping that she is still alive, and casts the most powerful healing spell that he can.
With a combination of a groan and a growl, Luna painfully opens her eyes and begins to rise. “Yes!” says Nameless, “Keep pounding him!”
“Planning to,” says Six, whose own charge had been interrupted by Luna’s elephantine bulk dropping in front of him, as he jockeys for position with a huge crocodile that Nameless had summoned earlier to attack Nethatar.
To Six’s momentary surprise, Zathara flies directly towards him, and though the rakshasa is fifteen feet in the air, the warforged knows he is still in range of the spiked chain. Then he realizes that Zathara’s attention is on the wall that the amber cone still shines on.
Zathara cries out, “Master – I give this to you,” and then reaches up to the harness. With a mighty effort, he rips it off his chest, actually removing the hair and flesh immediately below it, which the ‘leather’ was evidently attached to. With a loud cry, he hurls the Key into the wall. It sinks in and quickly begins to float deeper. As with Nethatar and the glabrezu, the leather instantly flakes away into nothingness, leaving only the four metal arms holding the Key.
“NO!” shrieks Dalassakash’alyntar’s serpentine voice in everyone’s head. “You must get it back now. NOW! Though the Angels do not know exactly what is happening, they can see an evident effect. An amber nimbus is beginning to extend around the Key.
“I can dimension door in there,” transmits Nameless, “But anything made of flesh seems to be destroyed very quickly.” Then his gaze switches, as does everyone else’s, to Six.
The warforged, a walking statue of wood and metal, sighs mentally. “I’m ahead of you.” He breaks into a run, even as Nameless hastes him and the rest. Six’s metal feet ring rhythmically on the floor as he races towards the wall of lava. As he nears the edge, Six flicks his chain sideways to bury the spikes in the perpendicular edge to the side, and then dives forward. His momentum carries him deep into the lava and his desperately flailing hand closes around the Key.
Six pulls the Key toward himself and jerks back on the chain, hauling himself back towards the stone. To his momentary relief, not only is the lava here not as hot as it could be, allowing his magical protection to absorb most of its damage, but it does not seem to have the detrimental effect on his metal and wood body.
Mostly metal and wood, he realizes belatedly, as various agonized parts of his body remind him. Thick fibrous bundles connect Six’s torso to the rest of his body, and are also present in arms and legs, and these are slowly flaking away, though luckily much more slowly than happened to the rakshasa and demon flesh moments ago. With no teeth to grit, Six clamps his metal jaws against the pain and draws himself backwards to safety, inch by inch.
“You cannot stop it now!” snarls Zathara, preparing to cast a spell to ensure that he is right, but he is distracted as Nameless’ crocodile rears up to snap at him and Luna rushes back to strike at him. While their attacks bounce off him, the charge of Korm, borne on his hawk-like wings, is more effective, as he drives the Ghaash’kala-gifted spear into Zathara’s back.
The rakshasa screams at the pain and speaks a word, sending a powerful arc of electricity shooting up the spear and into Korm, knocking him backwards. As the orc staggers, Zathara hurls an orb of flame into his chest. Though his magical protections block the bulk of the damage, it is still enough to momentarily stun Korm. His wings slow and he begins to fall, when two mailed hands reach up to grab his feet.
“Damn!” grunts Gareth, bending under the strain, “And you say Luna is fat!” The moment is all Korm needs, and with a muttered “Thanks!” he flaps into the air again.
The distraction allows Six, his fibrous parts pitted and smoking, to stagger back onto the stone lip of the giant arm they are on. As he emerges from the lava, another amber beam shoots from the Key, this one to strike him in the chest. Instantly, he is aware of Zathara’s mind, not its actual thoughts but its general tenor, the Key connecting the two. In the back of Six’s mind, the couatl shouts, Now! You can drain his energy! Do it!
Uncertain what to do, Six nevertheless tries, willing the Key to do as the couatl says. For a moment, the beam connected to him shrinks and the one linking the Key to Zathara thickens and pulses, as if something were flowing from him to the Key.
Then, across the conduit, Six feels the ak’chazar’s will, and the accompanying rage and hate, as it fights back mentally. Try as he might, Six’s will is no match for the millennia-old creature**, and he falls to a knee, feeling as if the inside of his mind were about to emerge through his metallic skull.
If it were a simple contest of wills, Six would be dead in seconds, but Zathara has some other distractions. Korm and Luna hammer away at him, not doing much damage, but keeping him too occupied to focus purely on Six. Gareth, unable to reach the flying rakshasa, continually pours healing energy into Luna, keeping her on her feet when she might otherwise have fallen.
In desperation, Zathara unleashes a burst of fire from his body that would normally have incinerated any of his opponents***. But with their myriad protections, Luna and Korm remain on their feet, though each is horribly burned, with only the summoned crocodile being blasted away. Gareth would have been too, but the giant bulk of Luna shields him from the flames.
Meanwhile, Nameless dimension doors across the chamber and appears next to Six, reaching out to the Key. As he touches it, another beam leaps out to his chest, and he has exactly the same feeling as his ally. Warforged and alienist oppose their combined wills against the rakshasa. Though even their combined wills cannot overcome his, for a moment they hold him at bay, Nameless’ aid preventing the ak’chazar from utterly crushing Six’s mind.
Zathara roars in frustration and then casts his most powerful remaining spell. His wounds heal, the majority of them closing. And then, incredibly quickly, he casts a lightning bolt at Korm.
The big orc’s eyes go wide, as he realizes that he has no chance to dodge, and that he is far too badly wounded to survive it. And then, even as the electricity leaps off Zathara’s extended paw, another paw, bigger than the rakshasa’s entire head, interposes itself.
The lightning bolt strikes Luna’s paw and is deflected into her body. Even with Gareth’s ministrations, she should have no chance of survival. But, coincidentally, she is the only one of the Angels to have cast a protection from energy against electricity before the fight. Every hair on her body stands on end, but not one of them is even singed.
Zathara snarls, “No matter! You cannot hold me at bay forever,” and blasts Nameless and Six with his will. The two of them manage to resist the attack momentarily, but can feel it slowly bending their minds backwards, like a giant fist slowly increasing its pressure.
But, again, the effort means Zathara has to switch his attention from his immediate foes. Korm, who has not done so all this time, so that he could use his own magic, finally gives in to his berserker fury. Yelling a wordless battle-cry, he drives the spear forward with all his might, augmented by fury now along with that granted by the Flame. Forged for exactly such a moment in the depths of the Labyrinth, the holy spear strikes home, ripping and burning through the ak’chazar’s chest to actually emerge a hand-span from its back.
Zathara screams in agony and thrashes around, allowing Luna to rear up and slam both claws into his skull.
None of the blows kill it, but more importantly, Six and Nameless feel its concentration slip and they push back. There is a long moment of growing, almost intolerable pressure, and then suddenly, it is gone.
The amber beams that connect Six and Nameless to the Key disappear instantly, while the one linked to Zathara quintuples in size, and the cone of light disappears. The Key tears itself out of the hands of the warforged and the alienist, and shoots into the lava wall behind them. With a despairing cry, drawn at equal speed behind it, flies Zathara, clawing vainly at the air around him.
Both Key and rakshasa sink into the lava and float quickly into it, spiraling in a circle. As they fade away, streams of amber light shoot out. Wherever they touch, the black lines that spiral through the lava burn away, leaving behind only the streams of silver flame, which begin to glow with increased intensity. As the light increases, it hides the Key and rakshasa from view, the last sight of them being Zathara’s mouth opening in a silent, despairing scream. In their minds, the Angels hear an almost audible ‘click,’ as the Key finally does one of the two things that it was made for. It locks shut the door that Zathara had striven to open.
For a moment, the Angels stand there staring at the lava wall where the Key and the rakshasa, both of which have plagued them so much, have disappeared, unsure that it is all over.
Then, the voice of Dalassakash’alyntar says, relief strong within it, speaks in their minds. “Congratulations! You have done it!” Then, she adds, “I think you should be leaving.”
The Angels turn to see the doorway of silver flame hanging behind them, and realize that the walls and ceiling of the chamber are beginning to pulse, with streams of lava falling from them.
Without a word, they turn and race for the doorway. Only Gareth pauses, to snatch up the hilt of Kizmet, and then he too dives through the doorway, only a second before the chamber disappears beneath the lava of the Lake of Fire.
A second later, the group reappears in the chamber with the couatl’s corpse. As they appear, the entire room shakes violently, and a loud rumbling fills the air. “I think it’s really erupting now! Run!”
“Don’t leave the couatl!” says Gareth, as the others head for the door.
“It’s dead!” snaps Korm, on the way out. “And too big.”
“But…,” begins Gareth, trying to drag the creature behind him and only doing so slowly. With a disgusted growl, Luna turns back, flips the corpse up with a giant paw, and hustles out.
Emerging in a rush, the Angels see that an eruption is definitely under way. Even thicker clouds of smoke stream from the crater far above, this time shot through with flame. Liquid fire rolls down the slopes and the mountain shakes again.
There is, however, a more immediate problem at hand. Scores of corpses litter the ground nearby. The closest are the ghaash’kala, still in a rough semi-circle, evidently having fought and died where they stood. Facing and among them are approximately fifty creatures of various kinds, including many of the animals the Angels have seen in the Wastes as well as approximately twenty warriors from the Carrion Tribes.
The only living creatures stand merely fifty feet away, a trio of rakshasas of the yellow-furred variety. They stand over the body of Morran, who lies on the corpse of a fourth rakshasa, his sword buried deep in its skull.
For a second, the three rakshasas stare at the four individuals and a giant bear that come rushing out of the entrance, all of them bloody, burned and battered. Then, in unison, they begin to cast spells. A second too late, they realize that the Angels are staring past and above them.
As the Angels emerge, so too, sinking quickly out of the haze that covers the sky, does a giant vessel. At first glance it looks like a normal ship (other than the fact that it is flying, of course), except that it has large control fins and rudders rather than sails. And burning constantly around it is a huge fiery ring. Even with no evident insignia, it is clear to the Angels that they are looking at the most advanced form of elemental vehicle in existence, the Lyrandar airship.
Also instantly recognizable to the Angels are two among the figures clustered around the prow – Saala Torrn and Gurr’khan. That many of the others are of their ilk is quickly apparent. As the airship descends rapidly, they are replicating the motions of Saala and Gurr’khan.
The rakshasas have no warning as eight flame strikes slam down simultaneously on them. When the flames disappear, two badly scorched corpses lie there, and the third, heavily burned rakshasa only pauses to hurry through a dimension door and disappear.
The airship comes to a stop and Saala calls down, “Need a ride?”
*****
A few minutes later, the airship is speeding southwest, with the Angels resting on the foredeck and speaking to the assembled Gatekeepers.
Listening and interjecting comments as Nameless explains what happened, Luna, now back in shifter form, asks, “So we’re absolutely done with that damn Shard, right?”
“Looks like it,” says Six. “I’m not sure what happened, but I think we managed to not just stop whatever was in there from getting out, but locked it in even more tightly.” He feels the burned away portions on his throat, arms and legs, thinking, I hope so, considering I almost got killed for it. He glances at Gareth, sitting silently and disconsolate, with the hilt-shard of Kizmet on his lap. And what he lost.
“Good!” says Luna. “I never want to see or hear of that damn thing again. Pity we couldn’t get that white-haired bastard as a trophy.”
Korm chuckles, “Look on the bright side,” and points at the three rakshasa corpses lying on the deck. “We got a matching set.”
* Blew her save vs. Harm. Second person below -10 in the fight, Gareth being the first.
** Opposed Charisma checks between the guy with Cha as a dump stat and a rakshasa are never good.
*** Empowered Greater Fireburst
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As the demon appears, Zathara smiles and says, “Good – I need more energy here.” Instantly, an amber beam shoots from the Key to the glabrezu’s chest. As it hits, the demon smiles and says, “Certainly.”
And then suddenly looks worried. The beam whiplashes suddenly, just as the one connected to Nethatar had done as she died, and the glabrezu is hurled suddenly through the air as if its huge bulk had no weight at all. It grunts in surprise, and then its body impacts the wall that Nethatar’s corpse had sunk into. The demon screams in agony, as its form begins to flake away incredibly fast, just as the dead rakshasa’s had. It thrashes around, but continues to sink deeper into the lava.
In barely three seconds, the surprised watchers see the surface of its body ripped away, leaving bloody muscle, organs and bone, which continues to dissolve. Yet, somehow, the demon is still alive. Desperately, it attempts to concentrate and teleport out of the lava, but the intense damage being inflicted overcomes even its unearthly vitality and the attempt fails. With one despairing scream that trails off as what remains of its throat flakes away, it falls into nothingness. Unlike Nethatar, whose equipment floats away slowly through the lava, there is nothing to indicate the passing of the glabrezu.
“What the hell just happened?” asks Luna mentally.
A voice in the collective heads of the Angels begins to reply, “I cannot be completely sure, and since I am dead…”
A collective mental groan replies, as does the snapped command from Nameless, “Screw it! Just get him!” As one, the Angels hurl themselves at the stunned Zathara.
The rakshasa has been watching with shock written clearly across its white-furred countenance, as the demon dies, and the amber beam to it fades and dies. The cone of light pulses brightly for a moment and then fades slightly. Zathara looks down and places a paw uncertainly on the Key, and then raises its head to glare at the attackers.
As another dispel from Korm strips off more of his protections, an onrushing Luna rakes his chest and tries to catch him in a non-metaphoric bear hug. Unfortunately, Zathara’s natural resistances render the damage negligible, and he is still protected by a freedom of movement.
Zathara snarls his rage and confusion at what just transpired and steps out of her grasp, before casting another spell. His paw is ringed with life-sapping sable flames as he slams it down on Luna’s head. Already wounded, the druid cannot resist, and she feels a cold draining sensation, like an icy fist surrounding her heart. The fist contracts and squeezes. Luna’s heart throbs once, then more weakly again, and then stops. And she drops dead to the floor at Zathara’s feet*, as he rises into the air.
Unseen to the others, Luna’s soul begins to spiral up and away, seeking its way to Dolurrh. Then, it pauses for a second to gaze back at the darkness of the body it once inhabited. There is something occurring within the darkness. A tiny silvery light gleams. For the moment, the Angels are all connected to the Silver Flame, and though it cannot fully keep them from death, it can hold a spirit in a ravaged body for a second longer than it should remain.
Luckily for Luna, that second is just long enough. Gareth, rushing in behind her, may no longer be a paladin, but he is still a cleric and an Exorcist of the Silver Flame. Momentarily forgetting his own sorrow and confusion, he places a hand on her corpse, hoping that she is still alive, and casts the most powerful healing spell that he can.
With a combination of a groan and a growl, Luna painfully opens her eyes and begins to rise. “Yes!” says Nameless, “Keep pounding him!”
“Planning to,” says Six, whose own charge had been interrupted by Luna’s elephantine bulk dropping in front of him, as he jockeys for position with a huge crocodile that Nameless had summoned earlier to attack Nethatar.
To Six’s momentary surprise, Zathara flies directly towards him, and though the rakshasa is fifteen feet in the air, the warforged knows he is still in range of the spiked chain. Then he realizes that Zathara’s attention is on the wall that the amber cone still shines on.
Zathara cries out, “Master – I give this to you,” and then reaches up to the harness. With a mighty effort, he rips it off his chest, actually removing the hair and flesh immediately below it, which the ‘leather’ was evidently attached to. With a loud cry, he hurls the Key into the wall. It sinks in and quickly begins to float deeper. As with Nethatar and the glabrezu, the leather instantly flakes away into nothingness, leaving only the four metal arms holding the Key.
“NO!” shrieks Dalassakash’alyntar’s serpentine voice in everyone’s head. “You must get it back now. NOW! Though the Angels do not know exactly what is happening, they can see an evident effect. An amber nimbus is beginning to extend around the Key.
“I can dimension door in there,” transmits Nameless, “But anything made of flesh seems to be destroyed very quickly.” Then his gaze switches, as does everyone else’s, to Six.
The warforged, a walking statue of wood and metal, sighs mentally. “I’m ahead of you.” He breaks into a run, even as Nameless hastes him and the rest. Six’s metal feet ring rhythmically on the floor as he races towards the wall of lava. As he nears the edge, Six flicks his chain sideways to bury the spikes in the perpendicular edge to the side, and then dives forward. His momentum carries him deep into the lava and his desperately flailing hand closes around the Key.
Six pulls the Key toward himself and jerks back on the chain, hauling himself back towards the stone. To his momentary relief, not only is the lava here not as hot as it could be, allowing his magical protection to absorb most of its damage, but it does not seem to have the detrimental effect on his metal and wood body.
Mostly metal and wood, he realizes belatedly, as various agonized parts of his body remind him. Thick fibrous bundles connect Six’s torso to the rest of his body, and are also present in arms and legs, and these are slowly flaking away, though luckily much more slowly than happened to the rakshasa and demon flesh moments ago. With no teeth to grit, Six clamps his metal jaws against the pain and draws himself backwards to safety, inch by inch.
“You cannot stop it now!” snarls Zathara, preparing to cast a spell to ensure that he is right, but he is distracted as Nameless’ crocodile rears up to snap at him and Luna rushes back to strike at him. While their attacks bounce off him, the charge of Korm, borne on his hawk-like wings, is more effective, as he drives the Ghaash’kala-gifted spear into Zathara’s back.
The rakshasa screams at the pain and speaks a word, sending a powerful arc of electricity shooting up the spear and into Korm, knocking him backwards. As the orc staggers, Zathara hurls an orb of flame into his chest. Though his magical protections block the bulk of the damage, it is still enough to momentarily stun Korm. His wings slow and he begins to fall, when two mailed hands reach up to grab his feet.
“Damn!” grunts Gareth, bending under the strain, “And you say Luna is fat!” The moment is all Korm needs, and with a muttered “Thanks!” he flaps into the air again.
The distraction allows Six, his fibrous parts pitted and smoking, to stagger back onto the stone lip of the giant arm they are on. As he emerges from the lava, another amber beam shoots from the Key, this one to strike him in the chest. Instantly, he is aware of Zathara’s mind, not its actual thoughts but its general tenor, the Key connecting the two. In the back of Six’s mind, the couatl shouts, Now! You can drain his energy! Do it!
Uncertain what to do, Six nevertheless tries, willing the Key to do as the couatl says. For a moment, the beam connected to him shrinks and the one linking the Key to Zathara thickens and pulses, as if something were flowing from him to the Key.
Then, across the conduit, Six feels the ak’chazar’s will, and the accompanying rage and hate, as it fights back mentally. Try as he might, Six’s will is no match for the millennia-old creature**, and he falls to a knee, feeling as if the inside of his mind were about to emerge through his metallic skull.
If it were a simple contest of wills, Six would be dead in seconds, but Zathara has some other distractions. Korm and Luna hammer away at him, not doing much damage, but keeping him too occupied to focus purely on Six. Gareth, unable to reach the flying rakshasa, continually pours healing energy into Luna, keeping her on her feet when she might otherwise have fallen.
In desperation, Zathara unleashes a burst of fire from his body that would normally have incinerated any of his opponents***. But with their myriad protections, Luna and Korm remain on their feet, though each is horribly burned, with only the summoned crocodile being blasted away. Gareth would have been too, but the giant bulk of Luna shields him from the flames.
Meanwhile, Nameless dimension doors across the chamber and appears next to Six, reaching out to the Key. As he touches it, another beam leaps out to his chest, and he has exactly the same feeling as his ally. Warforged and alienist oppose their combined wills against the rakshasa. Though even their combined wills cannot overcome his, for a moment they hold him at bay, Nameless’ aid preventing the ak’chazar from utterly crushing Six’s mind.
Zathara roars in frustration and then casts his most powerful remaining spell. His wounds heal, the majority of them closing. And then, incredibly quickly, he casts a lightning bolt at Korm.
The big orc’s eyes go wide, as he realizes that he has no chance to dodge, and that he is far too badly wounded to survive it. And then, even as the electricity leaps off Zathara’s extended paw, another paw, bigger than the rakshasa’s entire head, interposes itself.
The lightning bolt strikes Luna’s paw and is deflected into her body. Even with Gareth’s ministrations, she should have no chance of survival. But, coincidentally, she is the only one of the Angels to have cast a protection from energy against electricity before the fight. Every hair on her body stands on end, but not one of them is even singed.
Zathara snarls, “No matter! You cannot hold me at bay forever,” and blasts Nameless and Six with his will. The two of them manage to resist the attack momentarily, but can feel it slowly bending their minds backwards, like a giant fist slowly increasing its pressure.
But, again, the effort means Zathara has to switch his attention from his immediate foes. Korm, who has not done so all this time, so that he could use his own magic, finally gives in to his berserker fury. Yelling a wordless battle-cry, he drives the spear forward with all his might, augmented by fury now along with that granted by the Flame. Forged for exactly such a moment in the depths of the Labyrinth, the holy spear strikes home, ripping and burning through the ak’chazar’s chest to actually emerge a hand-span from its back.
Zathara screams in agony and thrashes around, allowing Luna to rear up and slam both claws into his skull.
None of the blows kill it, but more importantly, Six and Nameless feel its concentration slip and they push back. There is a long moment of growing, almost intolerable pressure, and then suddenly, it is gone.
The amber beams that connect Six and Nameless to the Key disappear instantly, while the one linked to Zathara quintuples in size, and the cone of light disappears. The Key tears itself out of the hands of the warforged and the alienist, and shoots into the lava wall behind them. With a despairing cry, drawn at equal speed behind it, flies Zathara, clawing vainly at the air around him.
Both Key and rakshasa sink into the lava and float quickly into it, spiraling in a circle. As they fade away, streams of amber light shoot out. Wherever they touch, the black lines that spiral through the lava burn away, leaving behind only the streams of silver flame, which begin to glow with increased intensity. As the light increases, it hides the Key and rakshasa from view, the last sight of them being Zathara’s mouth opening in a silent, despairing scream. In their minds, the Angels hear an almost audible ‘click,’ as the Key finally does one of the two things that it was made for. It locks shut the door that Zathara had striven to open.
For a moment, the Angels stand there staring at the lava wall where the Key and the rakshasa, both of which have plagued them so much, have disappeared, unsure that it is all over.
Then, the voice of Dalassakash’alyntar says, relief strong within it, speaks in their minds. “Congratulations! You have done it!” Then, she adds, “I think you should be leaving.”
The Angels turn to see the doorway of silver flame hanging behind them, and realize that the walls and ceiling of the chamber are beginning to pulse, with streams of lava falling from them.
Without a word, they turn and race for the doorway. Only Gareth pauses, to snatch up the hilt of Kizmet, and then he too dives through the doorway, only a second before the chamber disappears beneath the lava of the Lake of Fire.
A second later, the group reappears in the chamber with the couatl’s corpse. As they appear, the entire room shakes violently, and a loud rumbling fills the air. “I think it’s really erupting now! Run!”
“Don’t leave the couatl!” says Gareth, as the others head for the door.
“It’s dead!” snaps Korm, on the way out. “And too big.”
“But…,” begins Gareth, trying to drag the creature behind him and only doing so slowly. With a disgusted growl, Luna turns back, flips the corpse up with a giant paw, and hustles out.
Emerging in a rush, the Angels see that an eruption is definitely under way. Even thicker clouds of smoke stream from the crater far above, this time shot through with flame. Liquid fire rolls down the slopes and the mountain shakes again.
There is, however, a more immediate problem at hand. Scores of corpses litter the ground nearby. The closest are the ghaash’kala, still in a rough semi-circle, evidently having fought and died where they stood. Facing and among them are approximately fifty creatures of various kinds, including many of the animals the Angels have seen in the Wastes as well as approximately twenty warriors from the Carrion Tribes.
The only living creatures stand merely fifty feet away, a trio of rakshasas of the yellow-furred variety. They stand over the body of Morran, who lies on the corpse of a fourth rakshasa, his sword buried deep in its skull.
For a second, the three rakshasas stare at the four individuals and a giant bear that come rushing out of the entrance, all of them bloody, burned and battered. Then, in unison, they begin to cast spells. A second too late, they realize that the Angels are staring past and above them.
As the Angels emerge, so too, sinking quickly out of the haze that covers the sky, does a giant vessel. At first glance it looks like a normal ship (other than the fact that it is flying, of course), except that it has large control fins and rudders rather than sails. And burning constantly around it is a huge fiery ring. Even with no evident insignia, it is clear to the Angels that they are looking at the most advanced form of elemental vehicle in existence, the Lyrandar airship.
Also instantly recognizable to the Angels are two among the figures clustered around the prow – Saala Torrn and Gurr’khan. That many of the others are of their ilk is quickly apparent. As the airship descends rapidly, they are replicating the motions of Saala and Gurr’khan.
The rakshasas have no warning as eight flame strikes slam down simultaneously on them. When the flames disappear, two badly scorched corpses lie there, and the third, heavily burned rakshasa only pauses to hurry through a dimension door and disappear.
The airship comes to a stop and Saala calls down, “Need a ride?”
*****
A few minutes later, the airship is speeding southwest, with the Angels resting on the foredeck and speaking to the assembled Gatekeepers.
Listening and interjecting comments as Nameless explains what happened, Luna, now back in shifter form, asks, “So we’re absolutely done with that damn Shard, right?”
“Looks like it,” says Six. “I’m not sure what happened, but I think we managed to not just stop whatever was in there from getting out, but locked it in even more tightly.” He feels the burned away portions on his throat, arms and legs, thinking, I hope so, considering I almost got killed for it. He glances at Gareth, sitting silently and disconsolate, with the hilt-shard of Kizmet on his lap. And what he lost.
“Good!” says Luna. “I never want to see or hear of that damn thing again. Pity we couldn’t get that white-haired bastard as a trophy.”
Korm chuckles, “Look on the bright side,” and points at the three rakshasa corpses lying on the deck. “We got a matching set.”
* Blew her save vs. Harm. Second person below -10 in the fight, Gareth being the first.
** Opposed Charisma checks between the guy with Cha as a dump stat and a rakshasa are never good.
*** Empowered Greater Fireburst
