JollyDoc
Explorer
OLD FRIENDS
“Is it just me,” asked Tilly to no one in particular, “or are all of the so-called Cagewrights we’ve met here a bunch of loonies? I mean, Dyr’ryd and his cronies were insane, but at least they were organized. These guys seem like the second string.” The group stood in a large chamber with slimy black walls, bits of painted plaster still clinging to them. Around the base of the walls lay the broken fragments of murals. Several pieces of furniture were arranged haphazardly around the room, including a table covered with clay jars and lit candles. The chair in front of it was draped with human skin. They had found the room beyond were they had fought “Adimarchus.” It was obviously his personal abode, and by sorting thru his notes, they discovered he was actually someone named Alurad. They also discovered that he kept the hearts of his past victims in the jars on the table as some sort of shrine to Cyric.
“I would tend to agree with you,” Dalthon said, gingerly lifting the flayed skin with the end of his staff. “However, that doesn’t make them any less dangerous. If anything, being desperate, leaderless, and crazy makes them even more of a threat.”
Beyond Alurad’s rooms, the company found another pillared hall, remarkable from the others they had seen mainly by the presence of a six-foot tall black marble statue placed at the far end. It depicted a humanoid creature with subtle snakelike features clad in a black robe and wearing a coronet. In one outstretched hand it grasped a viper, and its other hand bore an unblinking eye set into the palm, staring blindly down the main hallway. Behind the statue was what appeared to be an empty alcove.
Tilly moved across the room cautiously, looking all about him as he neared the statue. At first glance, the sculpture was unnoteworthy except for its subject matter, but as the little rogue examined it more closely, he saw that the flagstone upon which the statue rested had built-in rollers, allowing it to be rotated up to three-hundred and sixty degrees. Always suspicious of traps, Tilly continued to scrutinize the carving and its pedestal until he was sure it held no nasty surprises. Then he began to turn it in a circle. Initially, nothing happened, but once the statue faced in exactly the opposite direction, into the alcove, the back wall of the alcove began to rise. Quickly, Tilly stepped back towards the center of the room, motioning his friends forward. No sooner had the wall begun to lift, than the room was filled with brilliant light. Revealed beyond the alcove’s false back was what seemed to be a second large statue of a cobra, carved entirely from crystal, and shedding a bright radiance, apparently from the inside. Suddenly, the snake moved.
As it coiled and struck towards Ike and Tilly, the snake it began to emit a low, humming sound. As the halfling and goliath braced for the attack, the buzzing seemed to intensify, filling their heads with blinding pain and white light. Reflexively, both of them clutched at their ears in a futile attempt to block the noise. Simultaneously, a searing ray of concentrated light emanated from the snake’s head, lancing straight towards Grimm. At the last moment, the half-ogre heaved his bulk to one side, the ring on his left hand flashing as he evaded the deadly beam.
Tilly shook his head furiously to clear it, and as he did so he became aware of a feeling of warmth coming from his chest. As he looked down, he realized that it was coming from his vest…the magical one he wore that both protected him and enhanced his ability to deal damage to living constructs…golems. The snake was a golem! Excellent, he thought, and then dove into a tumbling roll that brought him to the side of the creature opposite from Ike. Ordinarily, constructs could only be affected by weapons bearing strong magical enchantments, but through the magic of his vest, Tilly could use even as mundane a weapon as his shortsword. Darting forward, and then springing back again, he drove his blade into the golem’s diamond-hard surface, piercing it as easily as if it were flesh and blood.
Grimm needed no such enhancements. His chain was the most heavily enchanted item that he owned, and as he struck at the snake-golem, its crystalline hide cracked quite nicely. As the serpent turned to strike at the half-ogre, Kiko raced in from its flank, diving over and behind the creature to place himself in the alcove, preventing the snake from retreating to a more defensible position.
Dalthon, unfortunately, did not recognize the construct for what it was. Had he done so, he would not have bothered to waste a Magic Missile volley on it. Seeing his missiles bounce harmlessly off, however, brought revelation. “I think we’ll have to leave this one to those with more brawn than brains,” he said, grinning at Gunther and Rusty.
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Beyond the alcove lay a long corridor, filled with shadows. Within that darkness, a deeper shadow detached itself, moving silently and unseen down the hall, away from the melee in the chamber beyond. Soon, it reached a hidden vault, its walls painted with murals depicting yuan-ti warriors in golden armor marching toward the east end of the room. Some of the plaster had cracked and fallen away, revealing wet, black walls underneath. Two thick pillars supported the twenty-foot high ceiling and serpentine sconces were built into them. An ornately carved sarcophagus rested in the center of the dark chamber, and it was here that the shadow drifted. Passing through the walls of the coffin as if they were non-existent, the wraith wrapped itself around the occupant inside…a coldly beautiful woman, bearing features of an elven ancestry. She was pale and showed no signs of life, yet her eyes snapped open as Hate whispered in her ear, “Mistressss…they have come.”
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Ike, Tilly and Kiko groaned in agony as the dissonant resonance from the golem stabbed into their brains again. Though excruciating, the effect was, mercifully, brief and limited in its range. It seemed that only those in close proximity to the construct were affected by the resonance. As his head cleared, Tilly launched himself at the construct, clambering onto its writhing back and slashing shards from it with both blades. Grimm stepped into the breach, with Kiko and Ike flanking the serpent on opposite sides. The golem was surrounded, and the damage being inflicted upon it was taking its toll. Its crystalline hide was pitted and cracked, and the light the burned within it was dimming. Kiko drew back for one final blow, striking with his palm directly under the snake’s chin. A spider web of cracks fanned out from the point of impact, racing along the entire surface of the golem. With the sound of a thousand shattering windows, the crystal snake exploded, showering those around it with a storm of razor-sharp fragments.
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Mhad lurked in the deep shadows, Hate wrapped protectively around her. These were the same ones who had raided Thifirane’s house. Silently, she cursed. She knew no good would come of this so-called alliance. When the Cagewrights had arrived at Shatterhorn she had been desperate. The Brotherhood of the Silver Dream had been hunting her for over two-hundred years, and they were finally on the verge of catching her. She had needed strong allies, and despite her better judgment, she had accepted Dyr’ryd’s offer. Then had come the disaster at House Rhiavadi. Since Mhad’s return to Shatterhorn, she had studiously avoided contact with the Cagewrights, retreating to the solitude of her crypt to consider her options. Now, it seemed, her time had run out. “Hate,” she whispered to her shadowy companion, “kill them for me. Make them your minions.”
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As his companions tended their wounds, Kiko idly sifted through the remains of the golem as he searched the alcove, seeing that it opened into another hallway. He never saw the patch of darkness that flowed like silk towards him, until it reached out for him. With a gasp, he launched himself into a backwards roll, tumbling to his feet in the center of the outer chamber. The Bright Axes looked up at the commotion, only to see a large, wraith-like creature emerge from the darkness of the alcove.
Dalthon’s hands came up in a flash, once more calling to mind the words to launch a Magic Missile barrage. From his limited knowledge of the incorporeal undead, which he assumed this to be, he knew that often as not, most attacks would pass right through them. Not so the force-based magic in the missiles. They could strike even those creatures that lived mostly outside the dimension of the Prime, in the ethereal plane. Now his volley struck true, blasting into the dark creature, and drawing from it an animalistic wail.
Rusty stood behind the sorcerer, his knowledge of undead much more complete. This was no ordinary shadow, but instead a Dread Wraith, one of the most powerful of its kind. It might be harmed by Dalthon’s pyrotechnics, but it would take much more than that to destroy it and it could take quite a toll on the Bright Axes in the mean time. Gripping the amulet inscribed with the symbol of his goddess tightly in his right hand, the old priest stepped forward. “In the name of Hela Brightaxe, I command you back to the Abyss which spawned you!” To his mild surprise (which he would have to atone for later), the wraith quailed before him, cowering at first, and then retreating back into the alcove and disappearing into the darkness. “It’ll be back,” Rusty said, turning back to the group. “We should probably see where it went, and take care of it now, while it’s still weak.”
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As Hate fled past her, Mhad spat out a string of whispered curses. Damn the Cagewrights and their grandiose ideas! This is what came of such pretensions. Cloaking herself in darkness, she darted back down the corridor to her crypt. It was there she would be forced to make her final stand.
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Cautiously, the company made their way down the darkened corridor, Grimm’s Celestial Brilliance driving the shadows before them. Finally, they stepped into the crypt, and light flooded the chamber. A gasp of pain sounded from behind the stone sarcophagus in the room’s center, and a woman of elven descent stepped out, shielding her eyes, fangs bared in a hiss. Grimm recognized the woman immediately. The vampire from House Rhiavadi. He smiled, having known they had not seen the last of her.
Mhad pulled the hood of her cloak more tightly about her face, trying to keep the burning light from completely blinding her. “I have no quarrel with you, mortals,” she hissed. “I am not one of those whom you seek.”
“No?” Grimm asked, mockingly. “Then what were you doing at Thifirane Rhiavadi’s home?”
“There were others there, too,” Mhad said. “They, like I, were not Cagewrights either. We were each approached, and made an offer. Some accepted. I refused. Recall, I did you no harm when you raided the gathering.”
“Yet you set your wraith upon us then,” Grimm responded, “just as you have done again now. We also find you here, where we have traced the last of the Cagewrights. You still say this is just happenstance?”
“This was my home, long before the Cagewrights!” Mhad screamed. “They invaded it, just as you have done. Am I not justified in defending my home?”
“You are justified in nothing,” Grimm said coldly. “You are a creature of evil, and your very existence is an abomination. You claim innocence of allying with the Cagewrights, but what of countless other crimes that you have committed over the centuries. Why should you be suffered to live, when you have killed so many others?”
Mhad’s red eyes narrowed as she peered out from her hood. Her gaze locked onto Grimm’s, and she whispered, “Because you are weak, both in mind and in spirit, and now you shall serve me. Kill them all!”
For a brief moment, Grimm’s grip tightened on his chain, and he half-turned towards his companions, a murderous rage momentarily clouding his mind. But then, his noble heart, and great will reasserted itself, and he shook off the effects of the attempted Domination. “I believe we have our answer,” he growled. With a flick of his wrist, the spiked chain whipped out, aiming for Mhad’s throat, but managing only to clip her shoulder as she rolled, lightning fast, to one side.
Once more, Rusty brought forth his holy symbol, attempting to exert Hela Brightaxe’s influence upon the vampire, as he had the wraith. Strong though his faith was, Mhad’s will was, for now, stronger. “Your petty charms won’t work on me, priest!” she spat. “Perhaps this will!” Dalthon shouted, stepping in front of Rusty and firing his simple, but reliable Magic Missiles. They struck true, causing Mhad to momentarily stumble. In that moment, Kiko was upon her, raining blows in a flurry to fast to be tracked. However, the vampire’s supernatural nature made her immune to most mundane damage. Though the monk’s fists were as strong as any magical weapon, the key to a vampire’s weakness lay in pure silver, and so his strikes were as ineffectual as if he had struck a stone wall.
Mhad leaped atop the sarcophagus, her foes surrounding her on all sides. Desperately she looked upon each of them, searching for some sign of weakness. At last, her gaze fell upon Ike, his sloping brow and beady eyes an obvious sign of his weak mind to her. “Fight for me,” she whispered to the goliath, “Kill your friends. Bathe in their blood!” Ike was used to being thought of as stupid. He had often used that misconception by his opponents to great advantage. Today was no different. “If you had any blood left in that cold heart of yours,” he rumbled, “I would indeed bathe in it. Alas, I will just have to settle for wallowing in your dust.” As one, Ike, Tilly, and Grimm struck. Though all of their weapons lacked silver, the combined might of their blows overwhelmed the vampire’s defenses. With a final scream, she dissolved into mist, flowing through a crack in the top of the sarcophagus.
“Not so fast!” Ike roared, and he slammed the head of his maul down upon the lid of the coffin. As it shattered, a scything blade erupted from the side of the casket, ripping a deep gash into the goliath’s abdomen, but he barely seemed to notice. As he raised his hammer to smash it down inside the crypt, Hate erupted from within. The wraith rushed to envelope Ike, but from behind the liberator, a whistling, spiked chain struck, piercing into the ethereal plane upon which the creature partially existed. Again, and again it ripped into the body of the Dread Wraith, until it flowed away in shadowy tatters.
Gunther moved quickly to the sarcophagus. There, he saw Mhad lying quiescent, hands folded serenely over her chest. He knew that while vampires were in torpor they were both vulnerable, and invulnerable. Normal weapon blows and even magical spells would have no effect. “Her heart,” he said. “That is her weakness. Drive a wooden stake through it. Now!” Without hesitation, Ike drew a torch from his pack, and snapped one end from it. Climbing atop the coffin, he gripped the stake with both hands, and drove it into Mhad’s chest, impaling her to the stone beneath.
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Freija Doorgan was frightened, and that was saying something. She prided herself on self-discipline and self-control, but events had been recently set in motion that had shaken her confidence to the core. The destruction of the Tree of Shackled Souls had effectively put an end her hopes and aspirations. She had been forced to run and hide, like a rat in a sewer. Furthermore, her confidante and friend, Shebelith, was dead, and she was now forced into an alliance of necessity with that disgusting demodand, Dyr’ryd. The other surviving Cagewrights were worse than useless. Fish and Ardeth were thick as thieves. She didn’t trust them for a moment. Meanwhile, the rejects stationed here at Shatterhorn, were just pathetic, and judging by the sounds of combat coming from the distant halls, they were even now meeting their makers. She and her comrades had been followed here, that much was obvious. She warned Embril that they would be, but that bitch has dismissed her as if she were some gutter-scavenging commoner. Well, she would be damned before she would take the fall for those bastards. She would watch them burn, and laugh as she made good her escape. The world was a big place, with lots of holes in which to disappear.
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Tilly found himself in another pillar-lined hall, indistinguishable from the several that had come before it. Three arched exits led from the hall, one each to the north, east and west. Quietly he crept to each one in turn. A small room lay beyond the northern most passage. Two of its walls were carved with two-foot high niches, two per wall. A one-foot tall gold statuette of a yuan-ti abomination stood in each niche. An eight-foot diameter, semi-circular stone basin emerged from the wall opposite the doorway, its sides carved with serpentine engravings. Water poured out of a stone snake’s head carved above the basin, filling it. Tilly gave the room a cursory glance, and then moved to the eastern arch. Beyond this, he could see a portion of a wide, long corridor, running north to south. It walls were covered in crumbling plaster, with some sort of yuan-ti holy depictions painted on them. Tilly withdrew again, making his way finally to the south exit. Beyond, he saw an empty room, with another arch on its opposite wall, leading to a short hall with several alcoves branching from it. Just as he was about to turn away and return to his companions, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The rogue retreated further into the shadows, and peered closely down the hall. There…at the far end stood a figure. It appeared to be a middle-aged woman, rail-thin with her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She wore austere robes, blood-red in color that covered her from neck to wrist to ankle. She seemed to making an attempt at hiding, poor though it was, and at the moment, she did not seem to have seen Tilly.
Quickly, Tilly moved back to his comrades, briefly relaying what he had seen. “Follow me,” he whispered to them, before giving his ring a twist and vanishing from sight. Grimm could still see him as he crept back towards the archway. “I’ve got a little surprise for our lurker.”
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Freija could hear them in the antechamber, poking about. Apparently they hadn’t seen Krojen or Tyrrxx yet. She smiled to herself. They would, sooner or later. She stepped deeper into the shadows of the alcove, waiting for the tell-tale sounds of battle being joined. That would be her cue to make her escape. Suddenly, from seemingly out of nowhere, a halfling appeared beside her. He seemed momentarily as taken aback as she was. His sword was stuck into the mortar of the wall just inches to the side of her. Then she realized what had happened. He had crept up on her invisibly, and tried to ambush her. Fortunately for her, she had planned ahead, and placed a spell of displacement about herself. The little fool had missed! However, before she could react, the halfling pulled his sword free, slashing her across the ribs as he did so, ruining her robe. Just as she was about to chastise the little rat and blast him from existence, he stabbed her again, this time far more seriously. She knew she was in trouble, and her life was in very real danger.
When Kiko saw Tilly appear at the far end of the passage, he made his move, streaking down the hall like an arrow. He had made it only half way, however, when the woman noticed him, and raised her hands in the tell-tale gesture of spell-casting. Abruptly, he ran into what felt like a solid wall, though he could see no barrier in front of him. Backing up, he bumped against another wall, this one as invisible as the first. As he began feeling around on all sides, he realized that he was completely caged in.
Ike stood in the archway, watching events unfold in the passageway. Kiko seemed to be doing some sort of mime routine, feeling the air around him like a fool. The wizard must have addled his mind. Never send a monk to do a goliath’s work. With a sigh, Ike started down the hall, but no sooner had he done so, than he heard a metallic clang behind him. Whirling around, he saw that two of the pillars in the antechamber had vanished. In their place were two creatures that looked to be half orc and half machine. They were dressed in leather armor, and carried large, tower shields and battle axes, but there were metal plates grafted to their skin, and their limbs were also made of metal.
Krojen and Tyrrxx had once been tribe-mates, and fierce warriors for their clan. However, their mixed heritage insured that they would never be fully accepted by their people. They would forever be outcasts. That all changed when the Grayhaunt Marauders, led by Ghath, attacked their tribe, slaughtering every man woman and child, except the half-breeds. They were offered a new beginning, and a chance at power and glory. Krojen and Tyrrx jumped at the chance. They were brought to Shatterhorn, but instead of their promised reward, they were given over to the tender mercies of the Cagewrights, who performed unspeakable experiments upon them, turning them into living constructs. They were automatons, blindly loyal to their masters, yet retaining a spark of intelligence and free-will…enough to know they were damned.
Now the half-golems responded to their predetermined command: kill any non-Cagewright who tried to pass beyond this room. They moved to separate the party, coming between Ike on one side, and Grimm, Dalthon, Gunther and Rusty on the other. As the Bright Axes stood momentarily taken aback, Krojen struck, slashing across Rusty’s breastplate with his axe. The old priest stumbled back, bumping into and becoming entangled with Gunther and Dalthon. Then, both half-golems opened their mouths, and breathed out twin clouds of noxious, green vapor. Dalthon immediately began to choke and gasp. He felt the vitality being leached out of his body by the poison gas. Blindly, he began casting, hurling a Disintegration ray at the nearest construct, only to have it bounce harmlessly off of the magic resistant creature.
Tilly cursed roundly. Not only had the sorceress succeeded in trapping Kiko, but she had placed the Force Cage in such a way that it blocked the passage, placing her on one side of it, and him on the other. He couldn’t reach her now. Cursing again, he looked back up the hall and the mayhem breaking loose there. He could do no further good on this front, so he quickly made his way back towards his companions, giving Kiko a conspiratorial wink as he went.
Freija watched the rogue retreat, and smiled. She was going to make sure that one paid for his audacity at laying hands upon her person. Glaring at the trapped monk, she uttered a short phrase and vanished, only to reappear in an adjacent hallway, unseen and undetected by her enemies.
Dalthon, Gunther and Rusty struggled to put some distance between themselves and the relentless golems. As the pair pursued, Grimm stepped between them and his comrades. Whipping his chain in two quick strikes, he stripped the axes from both constructs. Instinctively, Krojen bent to retrieve his weapon, but as he did so, Grimm struck again. The half-golem managed to rearm himself, but he now sported a large rent in his armor plating for his trouble. As Tyrrxx moved to grab his own weapon, Grimm’s chain wrapped around his knees, buckling them and pulling the construct to the floor. Emotionless and undeterred, Tyrxx calmly picked up his axe and stood once more.
With Grimm’s distraction of the golems, Dalthon managed to maneuver towards the southern archway, where Ike and Tilly waited. The sorcerer saw Kiko’s struggles further down the hall, and knew immediately what had happened. His Disintegrate spell might not work on the golems, but he knew it would bring down a Wall of Force. The green beam lanced out, destroying the Force Cage with a brief flare of light. Kiko nodded his thanks, and moved towards his friends.
Freija was reassured at the continued sounds of combat. That meant her pursuers still had their hands full. Now she had time to prepare a little surprise for them. She pulled a handful of powder from her hands, and began spreading it in a circle, chanting all the while. When she had finished, the interior of the circle began to glow, and within the brightness, a figure began to take shape. Soon, a bipedal, winged, vulture-like demon stood before her. The vrock bowed and spoke in its guttural Abyssal tongue, “Command me, sorceress, but know that I may exact payment in time.” “You will do nothing save what you are told, worm,” Freija sneered, knowing the demon’s threats were all false bravado. “There is a group of mortals the next hall over. Do with them what you will.” The vrock leered evilly, and then loped down the hall.
As Dalthon watched Kiko approach, he suddenly saw a flash of movement in one of the alcoves at the far end of the hall. Incredibly, a vrock stepped into view, and immediately began gesturing, calling upon its innate magical powers. Instantly, Dalthon felt himself seized in an invisible, vice-like grip, the air inexorably being crushed from his lungs.
By this time, Ike had returned his full attention to the battle in the antechamber, so he did not witness Dalthon’s struggles. Instead, he charged towards Krojen, slamming into the half-golem with his hammer. As the construct reeled from the blow, Grimm once more ripped the axe from his hands. This time, as Krojen started to retrieve the weapon, a faint glimmer of intelligence flashed in his dim eyes, and he instead brought his tower shield forward between himself and the half-ogre, then seized his weapon, gaining cover from any further attacks by Grimm.
Kiko had also bypassed Dalthon by the time the vrock made its appearance, and so he too was oblivious to the sorcerer’s plight. As he entered the chamber, Tyrxx met him head on, opening two deep gashes across the monk’s thigh and upper arm.
As usual, Dalthon thought to himself, he was going to have to get himself out of this mess. Though his arms were pinned, preventing him from making any arcane gestures, he could still speak, and one word was all he needed. As he uttered it, he transported himself transdimensionally out of the corridor, and back into the antechamber, well back from the melee. “In case any of you care,” he said drolly, there is a demon coming up the hall.”
At Dalthon’s words, Gunther quickly looked down the hall. His eyes narrowed as he saw the demon approach. The dwarf immediately thought of two possibilities. Either the Cagewrights had enlisted the permanent aid of a demon, not an unlikely possibility considering past encounters, or the missing sorceress was behind this and had summoned one. Gunther decided to take a chance. He wove a spell about him which nullified any and all magic within ten feet of him, including magical weapons, wards and armor. If he was wrong, he wasn’t going to live to regret it, as the demon would have no problem tearing him to shreds. He stepped boldly into the hall to intercept the vrock. It screeched, charging towards the seemingly easy prey with outstretched claws. As the demon crossed the invisible line of the Anti-magic Field, it simply winked out of existence. Gunther had guessed right.
Kiko took a quick step back from Tyrxx, putting himself just beyond the arc of the golem’s battleaxe. The monk then dropped to the floor, extending one leg and hooking Tyrxx’s leg from under him. The construct collapsed in a heap, and Kiko leaped atop him, hammering between the metal plates at any exposed flesh that he could reach.
Freija stood beside a closed portcullis. Beyond it opened the large, fresco covered hall that Tilly had glimpsed from the eastern arch of the antechamber, except the portcullis was further down the hall, well beyond the sight of those in the chamber. She hurriedly summoned a second vrock, willing it to appear beyond the portcullis. “Flank them,” she said, gesturing up the hall, “but make sure you warn that fat oaf first, in case he can’t hear the obvious, even with two pairs of ears.” The demon nodded, cast a quick spell which surrounded it in several exact Mirror Images of itself, then darted down the hall.
Ike pounded repeatedly on Krojen’s shield, attempting to utterly destroy the thing. Though largely ineffective, his assault completely consumed the half-golem’s attention, so that he never saw Tilly sneaking up from behind. The little rogue plunged both of his blades into the constructs neck, and though the creature no longer had vital areas, Tilly’s magical vest allowed his weapons to pierce deep. With a shudder, Krojen rolled onto his side, and died.
Grimm turned his attention to the prone form of Tyrxx. “Incoming!” the half-ogre bellowed to Kiko, and the monk rolled clear as the spiked chain whistled downward.
Dalthon cursed as a second vrock entered the chamber, this one obviously surrounded by Mirror Images. How many of these damn things were there? The sorcerer had witnessed the effect of Gunther’s spell, and it gave him an idea. Calling up a Dispel effect, he completely encased both the vrock and the images. All vanished in an eye-blink, returned to the Abyss.
Freija watched from the shadows of the archway as the second vrock vanished. No matter. They had provided the necessary distraction. She glanced behind her at her so-called colleague, and shook her head in disgust once more. Never put your fate in the hands of another, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. She would show him once and for all that she had no further need of him, nor his cronies. Stepping from concealment, she spread her fingers fan-like and unleashed a Prismatic Spray of rainbow colors into the room. Incredibly, only one of the light beams struck true. The red band hit the goliath, causing his body to erupt into flames for a moment. To Freija’s utter amazement, the brute never even slowed. He continued his assault on Tyrxx as if nothing had happened. It was the last thing Freija Doorgan would ever be amazed by. Grimm moved like a snake, closing the distance between himself and the Cagewright in three strides, and wrapping his chain around her neck with one quick strike. In an instant, it was over.
No one informed Tyrxx. He fought on, heedless of his impending doom, striking out at Ike, and burying the head of his axe into the goliath’s haunch. As Ike collapsed to one knee, Tilly leaped over him, slashing at the half-golem again and again. Tyrxx raised his axe to strike again, but one last time, the weapon flew from his hands, disarmed by Grimm. As the construct dove to recover it, Tilly drove his sword into his skull.
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Nearby, Dyr’ryd shifted his great bulk, and chuckled to himself. “We warned her,” Dyr said. “But she wouldn’t listen,” Ryd answered.
“Is it just me,” asked Tilly to no one in particular, “or are all of the so-called Cagewrights we’ve met here a bunch of loonies? I mean, Dyr’ryd and his cronies were insane, but at least they were organized. These guys seem like the second string.” The group stood in a large chamber with slimy black walls, bits of painted plaster still clinging to them. Around the base of the walls lay the broken fragments of murals. Several pieces of furniture were arranged haphazardly around the room, including a table covered with clay jars and lit candles. The chair in front of it was draped with human skin. They had found the room beyond were they had fought “Adimarchus.” It was obviously his personal abode, and by sorting thru his notes, they discovered he was actually someone named Alurad. They also discovered that he kept the hearts of his past victims in the jars on the table as some sort of shrine to Cyric.
“I would tend to agree with you,” Dalthon said, gingerly lifting the flayed skin with the end of his staff. “However, that doesn’t make them any less dangerous. If anything, being desperate, leaderless, and crazy makes them even more of a threat.”
Beyond Alurad’s rooms, the company found another pillared hall, remarkable from the others they had seen mainly by the presence of a six-foot tall black marble statue placed at the far end. It depicted a humanoid creature with subtle snakelike features clad in a black robe and wearing a coronet. In one outstretched hand it grasped a viper, and its other hand bore an unblinking eye set into the palm, staring blindly down the main hallway. Behind the statue was what appeared to be an empty alcove.
Tilly moved across the room cautiously, looking all about him as he neared the statue. At first glance, the sculpture was unnoteworthy except for its subject matter, but as the little rogue examined it more closely, he saw that the flagstone upon which the statue rested had built-in rollers, allowing it to be rotated up to three-hundred and sixty degrees. Always suspicious of traps, Tilly continued to scrutinize the carving and its pedestal until he was sure it held no nasty surprises. Then he began to turn it in a circle. Initially, nothing happened, but once the statue faced in exactly the opposite direction, into the alcove, the back wall of the alcove began to rise. Quickly, Tilly stepped back towards the center of the room, motioning his friends forward. No sooner had the wall begun to lift, than the room was filled with brilliant light. Revealed beyond the alcove’s false back was what seemed to be a second large statue of a cobra, carved entirely from crystal, and shedding a bright radiance, apparently from the inside. Suddenly, the snake moved.
As it coiled and struck towards Ike and Tilly, the snake it began to emit a low, humming sound. As the halfling and goliath braced for the attack, the buzzing seemed to intensify, filling their heads with blinding pain and white light. Reflexively, both of them clutched at their ears in a futile attempt to block the noise. Simultaneously, a searing ray of concentrated light emanated from the snake’s head, lancing straight towards Grimm. At the last moment, the half-ogre heaved his bulk to one side, the ring on his left hand flashing as he evaded the deadly beam.
Tilly shook his head furiously to clear it, and as he did so he became aware of a feeling of warmth coming from his chest. As he looked down, he realized that it was coming from his vest…the magical one he wore that both protected him and enhanced his ability to deal damage to living constructs…golems. The snake was a golem! Excellent, he thought, and then dove into a tumbling roll that brought him to the side of the creature opposite from Ike. Ordinarily, constructs could only be affected by weapons bearing strong magical enchantments, but through the magic of his vest, Tilly could use even as mundane a weapon as his shortsword. Darting forward, and then springing back again, he drove his blade into the golem’s diamond-hard surface, piercing it as easily as if it were flesh and blood.
Grimm needed no such enhancements. His chain was the most heavily enchanted item that he owned, and as he struck at the snake-golem, its crystalline hide cracked quite nicely. As the serpent turned to strike at the half-ogre, Kiko raced in from its flank, diving over and behind the creature to place himself in the alcove, preventing the snake from retreating to a more defensible position.
Dalthon, unfortunately, did not recognize the construct for what it was. Had he done so, he would not have bothered to waste a Magic Missile volley on it. Seeing his missiles bounce harmlessly off, however, brought revelation. “I think we’ll have to leave this one to those with more brawn than brains,” he said, grinning at Gunther and Rusty.
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Beyond the alcove lay a long corridor, filled with shadows. Within that darkness, a deeper shadow detached itself, moving silently and unseen down the hall, away from the melee in the chamber beyond. Soon, it reached a hidden vault, its walls painted with murals depicting yuan-ti warriors in golden armor marching toward the east end of the room. Some of the plaster had cracked and fallen away, revealing wet, black walls underneath. Two thick pillars supported the twenty-foot high ceiling and serpentine sconces were built into them. An ornately carved sarcophagus rested in the center of the dark chamber, and it was here that the shadow drifted. Passing through the walls of the coffin as if they were non-existent, the wraith wrapped itself around the occupant inside…a coldly beautiful woman, bearing features of an elven ancestry. She was pale and showed no signs of life, yet her eyes snapped open as Hate whispered in her ear, “Mistressss…they have come.”
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Ike, Tilly and Kiko groaned in agony as the dissonant resonance from the golem stabbed into their brains again. Though excruciating, the effect was, mercifully, brief and limited in its range. It seemed that only those in close proximity to the construct were affected by the resonance. As his head cleared, Tilly launched himself at the construct, clambering onto its writhing back and slashing shards from it with both blades. Grimm stepped into the breach, with Kiko and Ike flanking the serpent on opposite sides. The golem was surrounded, and the damage being inflicted upon it was taking its toll. Its crystalline hide was pitted and cracked, and the light the burned within it was dimming. Kiko drew back for one final blow, striking with his palm directly under the snake’s chin. A spider web of cracks fanned out from the point of impact, racing along the entire surface of the golem. With the sound of a thousand shattering windows, the crystal snake exploded, showering those around it with a storm of razor-sharp fragments.
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Mhad lurked in the deep shadows, Hate wrapped protectively around her. These were the same ones who had raided Thifirane’s house. Silently, she cursed. She knew no good would come of this so-called alliance. When the Cagewrights had arrived at Shatterhorn she had been desperate. The Brotherhood of the Silver Dream had been hunting her for over two-hundred years, and they were finally on the verge of catching her. She had needed strong allies, and despite her better judgment, she had accepted Dyr’ryd’s offer. Then had come the disaster at House Rhiavadi. Since Mhad’s return to Shatterhorn, she had studiously avoided contact with the Cagewrights, retreating to the solitude of her crypt to consider her options. Now, it seemed, her time had run out. “Hate,” she whispered to her shadowy companion, “kill them for me. Make them your minions.”
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As his companions tended their wounds, Kiko idly sifted through the remains of the golem as he searched the alcove, seeing that it opened into another hallway. He never saw the patch of darkness that flowed like silk towards him, until it reached out for him. With a gasp, he launched himself into a backwards roll, tumbling to his feet in the center of the outer chamber. The Bright Axes looked up at the commotion, only to see a large, wraith-like creature emerge from the darkness of the alcove.
Dalthon’s hands came up in a flash, once more calling to mind the words to launch a Magic Missile barrage. From his limited knowledge of the incorporeal undead, which he assumed this to be, he knew that often as not, most attacks would pass right through them. Not so the force-based magic in the missiles. They could strike even those creatures that lived mostly outside the dimension of the Prime, in the ethereal plane. Now his volley struck true, blasting into the dark creature, and drawing from it an animalistic wail.
Rusty stood behind the sorcerer, his knowledge of undead much more complete. This was no ordinary shadow, but instead a Dread Wraith, one of the most powerful of its kind. It might be harmed by Dalthon’s pyrotechnics, but it would take much more than that to destroy it and it could take quite a toll on the Bright Axes in the mean time. Gripping the amulet inscribed with the symbol of his goddess tightly in his right hand, the old priest stepped forward. “In the name of Hela Brightaxe, I command you back to the Abyss which spawned you!” To his mild surprise (which he would have to atone for later), the wraith quailed before him, cowering at first, and then retreating back into the alcove and disappearing into the darkness. “It’ll be back,” Rusty said, turning back to the group. “We should probably see where it went, and take care of it now, while it’s still weak.”
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As Hate fled past her, Mhad spat out a string of whispered curses. Damn the Cagewrights and their grandiose ideas! This is what came of such pretensions. Cloaking herself in darkness, she darted back down the corridor to her crypt. It was there she would be forced to make her final stand.
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Cautiously, the company made their way down the darkened corridor, Grimm’s Celestial Brilliance driving the shadows before them. Finally, they stepped into the crypt, and light flooded the chamber. A gasp of pain sounded from behind the stone sarcophagus in the room’s center, and a woman of elven descent stepped out, shielding her eyes, fangs bared in a hiss. Grimm recognized the woman immediately. The vampire from House Rhiavadi. He smiled, having known they had not seen the last of her.
Mhad pulled the hood of her cloak more tightly about her face, trying to keep the burning light from completely blinding her. “I have no quarrel with you, mortals,” she hissed. “I am not one of those whom you seek.”
“No?” Grimm asked, mockingly. “Then what were you doing at Thifirane Rhiavadi’s home?”
“There were others there, too,” Mhad said. “They, like I, were not Cagewrights either. We were each approached, and made an offer. Some accepted. I refused. Recall, I did you no harm when you raided the gathering.”
“Yet you set your wraith upon us then,” Grimm responded, “just as you have done again now. We also find you here, where we have traced the last of the Cagewrights. You still say this is just happenstance?”
“This was my home, long before the Cagewrights!” Mhad screamed. “They invaded it, just as you have done. Am I not justified in defending my home?”
“You are justified in nothing,” Grimm said coldly. “You are a creature of evil, and your very existence is an abomination. You claim innocence of allying with the Cagewrights, but what of countless other crimes that you have committed over the centuries. Why should you be suffered to live, when you have killed so many others?”
Mhad’s red eyes narrowed as she peered out from her hood. Her gaze locked onto Grimm’s, and she whispered, “Because you are weak, both in mind and in spirit, and now you shall serve me. Kill them all!”
For a brief moment, Grimm’s grip tightened on his chain, and he half-turned towards his companions, a murderous rage momentarily clouding his mind. But then, his noble heart, and great will reasserted itself, and he shook off the effects of the attempted Domination. “I believe we have our answer,” he growled. With a flick of his wrist, the spiked chain whipped out, aiming for Mhad’s throat, but managing only to clip her shoulder as she rolled, lightning fast, to one side.
Once more, Rusty brought forth his holy symbol, attempting to exert Hela Brightaxe’s influence upon the vampire, as he had the wraith. Strong though his faith was, Mhad’s will was, for now, stronger. “Your petty charms won’t work on me, priest!” she spat. “Perhaps this will!” Dalthon shouted, stepping in front of Rusty and firing his simple, but reliable Magic Missiles. They struck true, causing Mhad to momentarily stumble. In that moment, Kiko was upon her, raining blows in a flurry to fast to be tracked. However, the vampire’s supernatural nature made her immune to most mundane damage. Though the monk’s fists were as strong as any magical weapon, the key to a vampire’s weakness lay in pure silver, and so his strikes were as ineffectual as if he had struck a stone wall.
Mhad leaped atop the sarcophagus, her foes surrounding her on all sides. Desperately she looked upon each of them, searching for some sign of weakness. At last, her gaze fell upon Ike, his sloping brow and beady eyes an obvious sign of his weak mind to her. “Fight for me,” she whispered to the goliath, “Kill your friends. Bathe in their blood!” Ike was used to being thought of as stupid. He had often used that misconception by his opponents to great advantage. Today was no different. “If you had any blood left in that cold heart of yours,” he rumbled, “I would indeed bathe in it. Alas, I will just have to settle for wallowing in your dust.” As one, Ike, Tilly, and Grimm struck. Though all of their weapons lacked silver, the combined might of their blows overwhelmed the vampire’s defenses. With a final scream, she dissolved into mist, flowing through a crack in the top of the sarcophagus.
“Not so fast!” Ike roared, and he slammed the head of his maul down upon the lid of the coffin. As it shattered, a scything blade erupted from the side of the casket, ripping a deep gash into the goliath’s abdomen, but he barely seemed to notice. As he raised his hammer to smash it down inside the crypt, Hate erupted from within. The wraith rushed to envelope Ike, but from behind the liberator, a whistling, spiked chain struck, piercing into the ethereal plane upon which the creature partially existed. Again, and again it ripped into the body of the Dread Wraith, until it flowed away in shadowy tatters.
Gunther moved quickly to the sarcophagus. There, he saw Mhad lying quiescent, hands folded serenely over her chest. He knew that while vampires were in torpor they were both vulnerable, and invulnerable. Normal weapon blows and even magical spells would have no effect. “Her heart,” he said. “That is her weakness. Drive a wooden stake through it. Now!” Without hesitation, Ike drew a torch from his pack, and snapped one end from it. Climbing atop the coffin, he gripped the stake with both hands, and drove it into Mhad’s chest, impaling her to the stone beneath.
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Freija Doorgan was frightened, and that was saying something. She prided herself on self-discipline and self-control, but events had been recently set in motion that had shaken her confidence to the core. The destruction of the Tree of Shackled Souls had effectively put an end her hopes and aspirations. She had been forced to run and hide, like a rat in a sewer. Furthermore, her confidante and friend, Shebelith, was dead, and she was now forced into an alliance of necessity with that disgusting demodand, Dyr’ryd. The other surviving Cagewrights were worse than useless. Fish and Ardeth were thick as thieves. She didn’t trust them for a moment. Meanwhile, the rejects stationed here at Shatterhorn, were just pathetic, and judging by the sounds of combat coming from the distant halls, they were even now meeting their makers. She and her comrades had been followed here, that much was obvious. She warned Embril that they would be, but that bitch has dismissed her as if she were some gutter-scavenging commoner. Well, she would be damned before she would take the fall for those bastards. She would watch them burn, and laugh as she made good her escape. The world was a big place, with lots of holes in which to disappear.
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Tilly found himself in another pillar-lined hall, indistinguishable from the several that had come before it. Three arched exits led from the hall, one each to the north, east and west. Quietly he crept to each one in turn. A small room lay beyond the northern most passage. Two of its walls were carved with two-foot high niches, two per wall. A one-foot tall gold statuette of a yuan-ti abomination stood in each niche. An eight-foot diameter, semi-circular stone basin emerged from the wall opposite the doorway, its sides carved with serpentine engravings. Water poured out of a stone snake’s head carved above the basin, filling it. Tilly gave the room a cursory glance, and then moved to the eastern arch. Beyond this, he could see a portion of a wide, long corridor, running north to south. It walls were covered in crumbling plaster, with some sort of yuan-ti holy depictions painted on them. Tilly withdrew again, making his way finally to the south exit. Beyond, he saw an empty room, with another arch on its opposite wall, leading to a short hall with several alcoves branching from it. Just as he was about to turn away and return to his companions, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The rogue retreated further into the shadows, and peered closely down the hall. There…at the far end stood a figure. It appeared to be a middle-aged woman, rail-thin with her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She wore austere robes, blood-red in color that covered her from neck to wrist to ankle. She seemed to making an attempt at hiding, poor though it was, and at the moment, she did not seem to have seen Tilly.
Quickly, Tilly moved back to his comrades, briefly relaying what he had seen. “Follow me,” he whispered to them, before giving his ring a twist and vanishing from sight. Grimm could still see him as he crept back towards the archway. “I’ve got a little surprise for our lurker.”
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Freija could hear them in the antechamber, poking about. Apparently they hadn’t seen Krojen or Tyrrxx yet. She smiled to herself. They would, sooner or later. She stepped deeper into the shadows of the alcove, waiting for the tell-tale sounds of battle being joined. That would be her cue to make her escape. Suddenly, from seemingly out of nowhere, a halfling appeared beside her. He seemed momentarily as taken aback as she was. His sword was stuck into the mortar of the wall just inches to the side of her. Then she realized what had happened. He had crept up on her invisibly, and tried to ambush her. Fortunately for her, she had planned ahead, and placed a spell of displacement about herself. The little fool had missed! However, before she could react, the halfling pulled his sword free, slashing her across the ribs as he did so, ruining her robe. Just as she was about to chastise the little rat and blast him from existence, he stabbed her again, this time far more seriously. She knew she was in trouble, and her life was in very real danger.
When Kiko saw Tilly appear at the far end of the passage, he made his move, streaking down the hall like an arrow. He had made it only half way, however, when the woman noticed him, and raised her hands in the tell-tale gesture of spell-casting. Abruptly, he ran into what felt like a solid wall, though he could see no barrier in front of him. Backing up, he bumped against another wall, this one as invisible as the first. As he began feeling around on all sides, he realized that he was completely caged in.
Ike stood in the archway, watching events unfold in the passageway. Kiko seemed to be doing some sort of mime routine, feeling the air around him like a fool. The wizard must have addled his mind. Never send a monk to do a goliath’s work. With a sigh, Ike started down the hall, but no sooner had he done so, than he heard a metallic clang behind him. Whirling around, he saw that two of the pillars in the antechamber had vanished. In their place were two creatures that looked to be half orc and half machine. They were dressed in leather armor, and carried large, tower shields and battle axes, but there were metal plates grafted to their skin, and their limbs were also made of metal.
Krojen and Tyrrxx had once been tribe-mates, and fierce warriors for their clan. However, their mixed heritage insured that they would never be fully accepted by their people. They would forever be outcasts. That all changed when the Grayhaunt Marauders, led by Ghath, attacked their tribe, slaughtering every man woman and child, except the half-breeds. They were offered a new beginning, and a chance at power and glory. Krojen and Tyrrx jumped at the chance. They were brought to Shatterhorn, but instead of their promised reward, they were given over to the tender mercies of the Cagewrights, who performed unspeakable experiments upon them, turning them into living constructs. They were automatons, blindly loyal to their masters, yet retaining a spark of intelligence and free-will…enough to know they were damned.
Now the half-golems responded to their predetermined command: kill any non-Cagewright who tried to pass beyond this room. They moved to separate the party, coming between Ike on one side, and Grimm, Dalthon, Gunther and Rusty on the other. As the Bright Axes stood momentarily taken aback, Krojen struck, slashing across Rusty’s breastplate with his axe. The old priest stumbled back, bumping into and becoming entangled with Gunther and Dalthon. Then, both half-golems opened their mouths, and breathed out twin clouds of noxious, green vapor. Dalthon immediately began to choke and gasp. He felt the vitality being leached out of his body by the poison gas. Blindly, he began casting, hurling a Disintegration ray at the nearest construct, only to have it bounce harmlessly off of the magic resistant creature.
Tilly cursed roundly. Not only had the sorceress succeeded in trapping Kiko, but she had placed the Force Cage in such a way that it blocked the passage, placing her on one side of it, and him on the other. He couldn’t reach her now. Cursing again, he looked back up the hall and the mayhem breaking loose there. He could do no further good on this front, so he quickly made his way back towards his companions, giving Kiko a conspiratorial wink as he went.
Freija watched the rogue retreat, and smiled. She was going to make sure that one paid for his audacity at laying hands upon her person. Glaring at the trapped monk, she uttered a short phrase and vanished, only to reappear in an adjacent hallway, unseen and undetected by her enemies.
Dalthon, Gunther and Rusty struggled to put some distance between themselves and the relentless golems. As the pair pursued, Grimm stepped between them and his comrades. Whipping his chain in two quick strikes, he stripped the axes from both constructs. Instinctively, Krojen bent to retrieve his weapon, but as he did so, Grimm struck again. The half-golem managed to rearm himself, but he now sported a large rent in his armor plating for his trouble. As Tyrrxx moved to grab his own weapon, Grimm’s chain wrapped around his knees, buckling them and pulling the construct to the floor. Emotionless and undeterred, Tyrxx calmly picked up his axe and stood once more.
With Grimm’s distraction of the golems, Dalthon managed to maneuver towards the southern archway, where Ike and Tilly waited. The sorcerer saw Kiko’s struggles further down the hall, and knew immediately what had happened. His Disintegrate spell might not work on the golems, but he knew it would bring down a Wall of Force. The green beam lanced out, destroying the Force Cage with a brief flare of light. Kiko nodded his thanks, and moved towards his friends.
Freija was reassured at the continued sounds of combat. That meant her pursuers still had their hands full. Now she had time to prepare a little surprise for them. She pulled a handful of powder from her hands, and began spreading it in a circle, chanting all the while. When she had finished, the interior of the circle began to glow, and within the brightness, a figure began to take shape. Soon, a bipedal, winged, vulture-like demon stood before her. The vrock bowed and spoke in its guttural Abyssal tongue, “Command me, sorceress, but know that I may exact payment in time.” “You will do nothing save what you are told, worm,” Freija sneered, knowing the demon’s threats were all false bravado. “There is a group of mortals the next hall over. Do with them what you will.” The vrock leered evilly, and then loped down the hall.
As Dalthon watched Kiko approach, he suddenly saw a flash of movement in one of the alcoves at the far end of the hall. Incredibly, a vrock stepped into view, and immediately began gesturing, calling upon its innate magical powers. Instantly, Dalthon felt himself seized in an invisible, vice-like grip, the air inexorably being crushed from his lungs.
By this time, Ike had returned his full attention to the battle in the antechamber, so he did not witness Dalthon’s struggles. Instead, he charged towards Krojen, slamming into the half-golem with his hammer. As the construct reeled from the blow, Grimm once more ripped the axe from his hands. This time, as Krojen started to retrieve the weapon, a faint glimmer of intelligence flashed in his dim eyes, and he instead brought his tower shield forward between himself and the half-ogre, then seized his weapon, gaining cover from any further attacks by Grimm.
Kiko had also bypassed Dalthon by the time the vrock made its appearance, and so he too was oblivious to the sorcerer’s plight. As he entered the chamber, Tyrxx met him head on, opening two deep gashes across the monk’s thigh and upper arm.
As usual, Dalthon thought to himself, he was going to have to get himself out of this mess. Though his arms were pinned, preventing him from making any arcane gestures, he could still speak, and one word was all he needed. As he uttered it, he transported himself transdimensionally out of the corridor, and back into the antechamber, well back from the melee. “In case any of you care,” he said drolly, there is a demon coming up the hall.”
At Dalthon’s words, Gunther quickly looked down the hall. His eyes narrowed as he saw the demon approach. The dwarf immediately thought of two possibilities. Either the Cagewrights had enlisted the permanent aid of a demon, not an unlikely possibility considering past encounters, or the missing sorceress was behind this and had summoned one. Gunther decided to take a chance. He wove a spell about him which nullified any and all magic within ten feet of him, including magical weapons, wards and armor. If he was wrong, he wasn’t going to live to regret it, as the demon would have no problem tearing him to shreds. He stepped boldly into the hall to intercept the vrock. It screeched, charging towards the seemingly easy prey with outstretched claws. As the demon crossed the invisible line of the Anti-magic Field, it simply winked out of existence. Gunther had guessed right.
Kiko took a quick step back from Tyrxx, putting himself just beyond the arc of the golem’s battleaxe. The monk then dropped to the floor, extending one leg and hooking Tyrxx’s leg from under him. The construct collapsed in a heap, and Kiko leaped atop him, hammering between the metal plates at any exposed flesh that he could reach.
Freija stood beside a closed portcullis. Beyond it opened the large, fresco covered hall that Tilly had glimpsed from the eastern arch of the antechamber, except the portcullis was further down the hall, well beyond the sight of those in the chamber. She hurriedly summoned a second vrock, willing it to appear beyond the portcullis. “Flank them,” she said, gesturing up the hall, “but make sure you warn that fat oaf first, in case he can’t hear the obvious, even with two pairs of ears.” The demon nodded, cast a quick spell which surrounded it in several exact Mirror Images of itself, then darted down the hall.
Ike pounded repeatedly on Krojen’s shield, attempting to utterly destroy the thing. Though largely ineffective, his assault completely consumed the half-golem’s attention, so that he never saw Tilly sneaking up from behind. The little rogue plunged both of his blades into the constructs neck, and though the creature no longer had vital areas, Tilly’s magical vest allowed his weapons to pierce deep. With a shudder, Krojen rolled onto his side, and died.
Grimm turned his attention to the prone form of Tyrxx. “Incoming!” the half-ogre bellowed to Kiko, and the monk rolled clear as the spiked chain whistled downward.
Dalthon cursed as a second vrock entered the chamber, this one obviously surrounded by Mirror Images. How many of these damn things were there? The sorcerer had witnessed the effect of Gunther’s spell, and it gave him an idea. Calling up a Dispel effect, he completely encased both the vrock and the images. All vanished in an eye-blink, returned to the Abyss.
Freija watched from the shadows of the archway as the second vrock vanished. No matter. They had provided the necessary distraction. She glanced behind her at her so-called colleague, and shook her head in disgust once more. Never put your fate in the hands of another, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. She would show him once and for all that she had no further need of him, nor his cronies. Stepping from concealment, she spread her fingers fan-like and unleashed a Prismatic Spray of rainbow colors into the room. Incredibly, only one of the light beams struck true. The red band hit the goliath, causing his body to erupt into flames for a moment. To Freija’s utter amazement, the brute never even slowed. He continued his assault on Tyrxx as if nothing had happened. It was the last thing Freija Doorgan would ever be amazed by. Grimm moved like a snake, closing the distance between himself and the Cagewright in three strides, and wrapping his chain around her neck with one quick strike. In an instant, it was over.
No one informed Tyrxx. He fought on, heedless of his impending doom, striking out at Ike, and burying the head of his axe into the goliath’s haunch. As Ike collapsed to one knee, Tilly leaped over him, slashing at the half-golem again and again. Tyrxx raised his axe to strike again, but one last time, the weapon flew from his hands, disarmed by Grimm. As the construct dove to recover it, Tilly drove his sword into his skull.
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Nearby, Dyr’ryd shifted his great bulk, and chuckled to himself. “We warned her,” Dyr said. “But she wouldn’t listen,” Ryd answered.
