wolff96 said:
Apparently, she's just chillin'.
The last we saw of her (two weeks back? Something like that) she was trying to get up off the floor, about to come under attack by a pair of zombies.
Granted, LB has some kind of death-grudge against arcane casters, but one would hope that she can do SOMETHING versus Orcus. Even if it's just to die horribly, buying Varo one more round to do... whatever. That would be about par for the course for an arcanist around here...
Gotta give you grief, LB. Waiting to see how they pull a rabbit out of their collective hats this time around... Not much time left and only two animate party members that I can see.
By now, wolff, I'm killing them just to razz you.
Letellia may have a role yet to play in this whole train wreck. First, let's find out what's up with Varo.
* * * * *
Chapter 364
TRANSFORMATION
Varo had clung to the
gate with every last reserve of determination that he had possessed. The deadly power raging around him had savaged his body, but he perceived it only a distant distraction, focused on what he was feeling through the connection he had forced through the barrier into the reality beyond. In some ways, the jarring adjustment had been more devastating than the tangible attacks upon his person, and he had quailed before them as his fundamental understanding of everything shifted to a new paradigm.
He was dimly aware of Allera, his other companions, Dar and Letellia, of Orcus and it all, the violence of the resistance that the constructed demiplane and the Demon’s power was unleashing against the intrusion that the
gate represented. For a moment he teetered on the edge of oblivion, unable to fight both battles at once, and was nearly torn apart by the tearing of his consciousness under the strain between his physical existence and that of his new alternative perception.
And then Allera touched him, and drove away the darkness. In that instant, clarity came. He understood
truth.
Orcus surged forward. The Demon had taken swift action to collapse the
gate, but it had not recognized the full depth of the threat until now. Orcus moved with surprising speed, covering the twenty feet that separated them in just a few massive strides. The black sword it bore was no ordinary weapon, but an artifact in its own right. The Demon lacked the bond it had possessed with its
Wand, but the
Sword of Kas represented a power almost as great. The weapon was both intelligent and willful, and it struggled against the Demon’s will, but Orcus was able to master it, even diminished as it was. The black blade had tasted the blood of a powerful foe when Orcus had slain the human fighter, and now it hungered for more, for the utter destruction of these mortals that had dared to defy a god.
Through the
gate, Varo received an offer. For the first time in over twenty years, he felt no doubt, no hesitation, and accepted.
Orcus reached the cleric and brought the black sword down in a devastating arc. A guttural, animal noise issued from its inhuman jaws.
There was a flash of golden light, and a clarion sound like the ringing of a great bell pulsed through the chamber as the black sword struck
something. Orcus, caught off guard, actually took a step back.
When the flare had faded, the Demon faced off against a transformed opponent.
The
gate was gone. Licinius Varo was surrounded by a soft golden glow, an inner light that formed a bright nimbus around his entire body. A blazing, almost insubstantial sword of golden light shone in his right hand, and the wounds that had covered his body were gone. His eyes had become two golden orbs, which glittered as they stared upon the Demon. He seemed to swell as the man and demon confronted each other across the field of shattered bones, growing as the power filled him, until he stood almost ten feet tall. The Demon still loomed well over him, half-again his size and many times his weight, but somehow the two seemed almost akin as they faced off.
SO. THE LORDS OF HEAVEN HAVE CHOSEN YOU AS THEIR CHAMPION, VARO? YOU HAVE FOUGHT WELL, AND YOUR STRUGGLES HAVE CHALLENGED ME AS FEW HAVE BEFORE. BUT IT IS ULTIMATELY IN VAIN. EVEN AS A PARAGON, YOU REMAIN MORTAL.
Varo spoke. His words were quiet, calm, but they carried easily, resounding in the mind of the Demon almost as its own words had carried their own mental echo earlier.
“I am only what I am, demon. And you, too, are not invincible. The essence of what you are may survive your destruction here, cast back into the Abyss, perhaps to regenerate into another form in a thousand years. But know this; if you then return, in a thousand years, or a thousand thousands, those mortals that you hold in such contempt will stand together to resist you, and to cast you back down once more.”
Orcus’s lips drew back into a feral snarl.
YOUR KIND HAVE BEEN MY TOOLS FOR A HUNDRED GENERATIONS. MAN IS A WEAK, TREMULOUS THING, DRIVEN BY RAW NEEDS THAT CAN NEVER BE SATISFIED. YOU SCURRY ABOUT FOR YOUR FEW SCORE YEARS, IN A TERROR AT THE MORTAILTY YOU KNOW IS INESCAPABLE. YOU INVENT MYTHS TO JUSTIFY YOUR FEEBLENESS, TO JUSTIFY THE EMPTINESS INSIDE THAT IS YOUR CONSTANT COMPANION. YOU PREY UPON EACH OTHER AND EVERYTHING ELSE WITH WHICH YOU COME INTO CONTACT. YOU ARE A CANCER UPON YOUR WORLD, AN EMPTY SHELL, FIT ONLY TO SERVE AS THE PATHETIC PLAYTHINGS FOR BEINGS SUCH AS I. I AM THE SHADOW IN THE NIGHT, THE FEARS OF MAN MADE MANIFEST. I AM ETERNAL. I AM A GOD.
Varo’s gaze was almost pitying. “You are a demon, an exile seeking to recover a lost realm. You may have once been powerful, but you are weakened, your home stolen from you, your temples broken, your precious wand sundered. Where are your legions? Why do you not open portals to bring more demons to your cause? Are a pair of sickly old mariliths the best you can do? Where are the countless undead you profess to rule? When I saw that your defenders included skeletons and zombies, I knew that your powers had been pressed to their limit in your war against my people. Your desperation is revealed in each attack you make upon Camar, for it is only in our destruction that you can preserve what you are. You
need to win here, and win decisively. Falter here, and even without our victory you will be dragged down by your rivals, to serve for aeons untold in a state of penury and servitude. You are, in the ultimate reckoning, a sorry thing, a sad wretch of a being, with neither purpose nor pleasure in your existence.”
Orcus’s lips drew back into a feral snarl.
YOUR DESTRUCTION WILL MARK THE DEATH OF YOUR RACE!
Orcus lunged forward with surprising speed, lashing the black sword down in a long arc that trailed lines of vaprous dark energy through the air in its wake. Varo brought up his own weapon, and the sword of light struck the dark with a loud clang and flash of energies. Orcus shifted at once, driving the sword down in a potent overhand stroke, but again the cleric shifted and parried it, stepping away from the cutting swath of the weapon. Varo did not counterattack, instead shifting back and recovering his defensive stance. The cleric moved with a calm economy of motion, his movements only slightly encumbered by the bulk of his heavy armor, his enhanced speed matching the sheer power of the Demon.
Orcus took a moment to recenter as well, gauging its opponent. But that interval lasted only a fraction of a second, and before Varo could deliberate further, it was attacking again. This time Orcus opened with a spell-power, hurling a dark cloud of magic at the paragon cleric. The fell magic dissolved against the golden aura that surrounded him, but it distracted him for a moment, allowing Orcus to get within reach and unleash another violent series of attacks with the black sword. Again the blades clashed in a frenzy of energetic surges, noise and light and power flaring around the two combatants. This time, each inflicted damage upon the other. Varo managed a counterattack that drew a bright line across the Demon’s torso, opening a shallow gash that oozed a thin trail of pustulent ichor. Orcus, however, took advantage of the cleric’s attack, smashing its sword over the guard of his shield, hitting hard against his shoulder-guard in almost the same place it had struck Dar a few minutes previous. The blow had a telling effect, but the golden aura surrounding the cleric provided some obvious degree of physical protection, for while it drove him back, the dark blade failed to penetrate his armor.
Orcus feinted another attack, forcing Varo into another defensive stance before it paused to draw upon more of its magic, bolstering its own protections. The dark aura of death that hung about the Demon had no effect upon Varo, while likewise the golden radiance surrounding him did not hinder his foe. Their respective powers, one innate, one gifted, seemed roughly matched, and likewise their potent weapons were balanced with a nearly equal potential for wreaking destruction upon the other.
The two foes came in again, dealing devastating blows in a frenetic exchange of attacks. Varo’s strength had grown beyond that of a giant, and the sword he bore opened long gashes in the Demon’s bloated body, its divine potency proof against the corrupt nature of the arch-fiend. But the cuts were shallow, and Orcus’s stamina seemed inexhaustible as drops of black ichor fell from the wounds to hiss violently upon the floor around them.
Orcus’s counterattacks were not lacking in effect. The Demon was even stronger than Varo, a massive strength deceptively concealed within its distended torso and thick limbs. The black sword it bore cut through the paragon cleric’s defenses, flaring with small explosions of black energy and golden light as it ripped through his aura and tore into his plate armor. That suit, enchanted to great potency, withstood several attacks that would have otherwise killed him, but the pounding he took was driving him steadily back, as the exchange of attacks continued. Both of them were regenerating, Varo’s aura feeding him with new strength, while the wounds covering Orcus’s body slowly knitting shut as the Demon’s own black radiance swirled around it. But the beating they were dishing out was inflicting new hurts faster than their respective powers could restore them. Varo lunged for the Demon’s arm as it mashed its blade hard into Varo’s already-mangled shield, trying for a disarm, but Orcus smashed its damaged right hand into Varo’s face, hitting him solidly and forcing him back several unsteady steps. Blood was visible under the front of his helmet; the crude but powerful punch had broken his nose.
YOU GROW WEAK, HUMAN, Orcus pronounced.
SOON, YOU WILL BE MINE.
Varo snarled and rushed forward, driving his brilliant sword deep into the Demon’s body. Orcus screamed as the holy light riming the blade seared its flesh, but the demon did not draw back, and too late Varo realized that he’d been lured in. He brought his shield up just in time to meet the black sword. The magical steel, already sorely battered, crumpled, and as the straps parted the shield was flung down, narrowly missing his foot as it smashed onto the ground and bounced away. Within the protective aura of his transformation Varo was shielded to some degree from pain, but he could not ignore the demon’s almost instantaneous follow, which came crashing down onto the now-exposed arm just below the shoulder. Somehow his armor held, but the greave crumpled, and the bone beneath cracked loudly as it gave way.
His face twisted into a mask of determination and anger, Varo pushed harder on the hilt of the embedded sword with his good hand, thrusting it deeper into the Demon’s body. Orcus roared again, but like the cleric, the Prince of the Undead could take pain, and it had not yet used up its cache of surprises.
The Demon thrust at Varo with its damaged hand, forcing them apart. Varo maintained his grasp on his sword, which sputtered with demonic ichor as it slid out of the terrible wound in Orcus’s torso. Orcus started to turn away, and Varo lifted the sword to strike again, aiming for its suddenly exposed left knee. Orcus seemed to hesitate, giving the cleric a free attack. But as the golden sword sliced down, Orcus unleashed its own attack, snapping its body around, and lashing its hook-ended tail into the cleric’s chest. The deadly, poisoned barb at the end of the tail pierced Varo’s armor just above his right breast, and as it jerked back a trail of bright crimson glistened on its black head.
Varo staggered back, his attack aborted, as the Demon’s virulent toxin wracked his body. His enhanced constitution was enough to keep him alive, but the assault cost him a precious few seconds of distraction, a diversion that Orcus put to good use as the Demon brought down the
Sword of Kas. The black sword crashed into the brow of Varo’s helmet with enough force to dent the magical steel, and Varo was driven roughly to the ground, his protective aura flickering desperately around him.
The Demon’s laughter swelled around it as it stepped forward to put an end to it. Varo, stunned, clutched at his sword, but his fingers slipped around the hilt, and he could do little more than watch as Orcus loomed high over him, lifting its sword high above its head.
