Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Thank god it's Monday !!!Lazybones said:
Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
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Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 436
The companions staggered as the dark magic tore through them, drawing moisture from their flesh and organs, turning breathing into an agony, tightening their throats until even their cries of pain rattled in their gorges like dice in a cup. Even Beorna, weakened as she was by her earlier clash with the devourer, could not resist the effect, and Dannel and Mole were each particularly hard hit.
“Where?” Cal hissed, coughing as he fought the word out.
“Above!” Arun said, lifting his sword to point into the cavernous empty interior of Skullrot rising hundreds of feet above where they stood.
Looking up, they could all see it, sixty or seventy feet above them. Wrapped in diaphanous robes that were little more than shreds of black silk, it was a monstrosity straight from the most depraved nightmares of sickened minds. It was skeletal, part man, part something other, with huge wings that were only struts of bone jutting from its back. Those wings could not keep it aloft, yet somehow it flew, drifting slowly down toward them. It carried a scythe with a black blade that seemed to ooze bloody red light, and its eyes were points of black fire that were somehow darker than the deepest night, mesmerizing orbs that drew the viewer in, releasing them only with an effort of will.
“What… is… that…” Mole chattered.
As if in response, each of them heard a voice within their minds, a rustling of wind through a graveyard.
I am the Dark Myrakul, mortals… and you have violated the sanctum of the Great Lord… Rejoice in your last instant of free thought, for the rest of your existence shall be spent as wards of Skullrot, trapped in an eternal prison of your own suffering…
“A lich…” Cal breathed, the sound of his own voice breaking the spell of the Dark Myrakul’s fearsome appearance and terrible words. “Spread out!” he warned, following his own advice as he retreated back into the doorway to the golem laboratory. He cast a spell—not at the Myrakul, for he knew that his wands and few remaining attack spells would be of little use against it—but at his companions, bolstering them as best he could against what he knew to be coming.
As the others spread out across the floor of the wide main hall of the asylum, drawing out their missile weapons or preparing their own defensive magics, Dannel stood his ground and unleashed a barrage of rapid-fire holy arrows. Equipped with Benzan’s greater bracers of archery, his shots were even more devastating, and while the skeletal body of the lichfiend was largely immune to even Dannel’s potent arrows, the holy missiles discharged their blessed power into the body of the fell monstrosity with each hit… one, two, three impacts that drew a mental scream from the creature.
“That’s it, blast it, Dannel!” Mole said, shouting encouragement. The gnome rogue was at a lost for what to do herself, given that she had no holy ammunition for her bow, and she thought (in hindsight, as her shout echoed through the interior of Skullrot) that it might not be a good idea to draw its attention to her in any case.
Darting into one of the shadowy stairwells that occupied the corners of the hall, she tried to think of something to do.
Dana ran toward the stairs that led down to the exit, not intent upon escape, but merely on gaining position for the battle against the lichfiend master of Skullrot. She cursed herself for choosing to give up her undeath to death spell for the heroes’ feast that she’d cast that morning; not that the spell would likely have worked against this foe’s mental defenses in any case. She was drawn by Lok’s call.
“Dana! I must close with it!”
She nodded, and opened her mind to the goddess as she ran over to the genasi.
Beorna and Arun moved together across the hall, drawing out their heavy bows. “If we cannot bring it into melee, we will be hard pressed to harm it,” the templar muttered. Arun agreed, but while he had no doubt that its scythe was a terrible weapon in close quarters, he suspected that it would most likely remain high above them, raining down destructive magic from its secure perch in midair. Dannel was really the only one who could hurt it, with his incredible skill with the bow, combined with the holy arrows in his quiver.
He was right on both counts. The Dark Myrakul had come to the same conclusions as the paladin, and as the brilliant white shafts continued to fly up into the empty hollow of the fortress’s interior from Dannel’s bow, the lichfiend drew upon the fullness of its dread power, and calling upon the most potent of its magics it imploded Dannel. Even with Cal’s magic bolstering him, the elf could not resist the spell, and his body crumpled in upon itself, his deadly bow clattering to the stone floor beside the crushed heap of flesh that had been the arcane archer a heartbeat before.
The companions staggered as the dark magic tore through them, drawing moisture from their flesh and organs, turning breathing into an agony, tightening their throats until even their cries of pain rattled in their gorges like dice in a cup. Even Beorna, weakened as she was by her earlier clash with the devourer, could not resist the effect, and Dannel and Mole were each particularly hard hit.
“Where?” Cal hissed, coughing as he fought the word out.
“Above!” Arun said, lifting his sword to point into the cavernous empty interior of Skullrot rising hundreds of feet above where they stood.
Looking up, they could all see it, sixty or seventy feet above them. Wrapped in diaphanous robes that were little more than shreds of black silk, it was a monstrosity straight from the most depraved nightmares of sickened minds. It was skeletal, part man, part something other, with huge wings that were only struts of bone jutting from its back. Those wings could not keep it aloft, yet somehow it flew, drifting slowly down toward them. It carried a scythe with a black blade that seemed to ooze bloody red light, and its eyes were points of black fire that were somehow darker than the deepest night, mesmerizing orbs that drew the viewer in, releasing them only with an effort of will.
“What… is… that…” Mole chattered.
As if in response, each of them heard a voice within their minds, a rustling of wind through a graveyard.
I am the Dark Myrakul, mortals… and you have violated the sanctum of the Great Lord… Rejoice in your last instant of free thought, for the rest of your existence shall be spent as wards of Skullrot, trapped in an eternal prison of your own suffering…
“A lich…” Cal breathed, the sound of his own voice breaking the spell of the Dark Myrakul’s fearsome appearance and terrible words. “Spread out!” he warned, following his own advice as he retreated back into the doorway to the golem laboratory. He cast a spell—not at the Myrakul, for he knew that his wands and few remaining attack spells would be of little use against it—but at his companions, bolstering them as best he could against what he knew to be coming.
As the others spread out across the floor of the wide main hall of the asylum, drawing out their missile weapons or preparing their own defensive magics, Dannel stood his ground and unleashed a barrage of rapid-fire holy arrows. Equipped with Benzan’s greater bracers of archery, his shots were even more devastating, and while the skeletal body of the lichfiend was largely immune to even Dannel’s potent arrows, the holy missiles discharged their blessed power into the body of the fell monstrosity with each hit… one, two, three impacts that drew a mental scream from the creature.
“That’s it, blast it, Dannel!” Mole said, shouting encouragement. The gnome rogue was at a lost for what to do herself, given that she had no holy ammunition for her bow, and she thought (in hindsight, as her shout echoed through the interior of Skullrot) that it might not be a good idea to draw its attention to her in any case.
Darting into one of the shadowy stairwells that occupied the corners of the hall, she tried to think of something to do.
Dana ran toward the stairs that led down to the exit, not intent upon escape, but merely on gaining position for the battle against the lichfiend master of Skullrot. She cursed herself for choosing to give up her undeath to death spell for the heroes’ feast that she’d cast that morning; not that the spell would likely have worked against this foe’s mental defenses in any case. She was drawn by Lok’s call.
“Dana! I must close with it!”
She nodded, and opened her mind to the goddess as she ran over to the genasi.
Beorna and Arun moved together across the hall, drawing out their heavy bows. “If we cannot bring it into melee, we will be hard pressed to harm it,” the templar muttered. Arun agreed, but while he had no doubt that its scythe was a terrible weapon in close quarters, he suspected that it would most likely remain high above them, raining down destructive magic from its secure perch in midair. Dannel was really the only one who could hurt it, with his incredible skill with the bow, combined with the holy arrows in his quiver.
He was right on both counts. The Dark Myrakul had come to the same conclusions as the paladin, and as the brilliant white shafts continued to fly up into the empty hollow of the fortress’s interior from Dannel’s bow, the lichfiend drew upon the fullness of its dread power, and calling upon the most potent of its magics it imploded Dannel. Even with Cal’s magic bolstering him, the elf could not resist the spell, and his body crumpled in upon itself, his deadly bow clattering to the stone floor beside the crushed heap of flesh that had been the arcane archer a heartbeat before.
Solarious
Explorer
It is the beginning of the end... Myrakul is a level 18 Cleric on top of his lichfiend template. They had better move out quickly, or risk an actual TPK.
Is it me, or has Dannel been getting the 'shaft' lately in dying in rapid sucession? Well, then again, archers make very visable targets.
Awaiting Wensday with great eagerness. Yes, great eagerness.![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Is it me, or has Dannel been getting the 'shaft' lately in dying in rapid sucession? Well, then again, archers make very visable targets.
Awaiting Wensday with great eagerness. Yes, great eagerness.
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Whoa - things look grim indeed! Is it Friday already? 
And a nice decription of implosion, Lazybones. You could really feel that one.
And a nice decription of implosion, Lazybones. You could really feel that one.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Yeah, it's pretty much cliffhangers every post from here on out. When I wrote a lot of these updates I remember feeling physically worn out after finishing some of them... I hope you guys find them as intense.
* * * * *
Chapter 437
“Dannel, no!” Mole cried, only able to watch as another of the Heroes of Cauldron fell, destroyed by a powerful enemy.
Flames engulfed the lichfiend as Dana called upon her last flame strike. But the column of searing divine flame faltered as it struck the body of the Dark Myrakul, dissipating against the undead priest’s spell resistance. It turned toward her, its mocking gaze terrible as its dark orbs pierced her, promising suffering to come.
But the master of Skullrot faced a more immediate problem as Lok lifted off of the ground, empowered by Dana’s fly spell, and knifed straight up toward it. The genasi’s axe was not the ideal weapon against the resistances of the lichfiend, but the look on Lok’s face said that he would not be forestalled by any such hindrance. The Dark Myrakul ignored him, focusing its still-active implosion spell upon Dana. The priestess screamed as the magic gripped her, but staggering backward she drew upon every last reserve of her focus and determination, and was barely able to overcome the potency of the spell before it left her like Dannel, a crumpled mound of flesh.
Lok roared and lifted his axe in both hands, dropping his shield and focusing instead on an all-out attack. Had he struck, he might have sundered even the unholy fabric of the lichfiend’s corporeal form, but as he drew within ten feet of it he rebounded off of an irresistible invisible shield. Momentarily stunned, the genasi’s momentum carried him off to the side, beyond the lichfiend, as he reverberated from that barrier—an antilife shell—and slowly spun to a stop fifteen feet away.
Arun had strung his heavy bow, but what he’d seen thus far had told him that his shots would have no effect upon it. If only he’d been able to close, with his holy avenger… but then the outcome of Lok’s aborted attack told him that the lichfiend had prepared against that contingency as well. The paladin turned and retraced his steps back to where Dannel’s body lay. Only the vague outline left by his garments and armor revealed that the gruesome remnants had once been a living man, but Arun did not spare thoughts for his friend now; this foe would not stop until all of them were either like the elf or forever imprisoned in the cages of Skullrot, their screams adding to the cacophony of insanity that filled the place. The paladin saw what he wanted, and took up Dannel’s bow and magical quiver.
Beorna had realized what he was about, and had followed him. As Arun rose he held out the quiver, which on command had already produced several of the white-fletched arrows from its extra-dimensional space.
A flash of light and a rush of air from the doorway to the golem laboratory announced Cal’s latest contribution to the battle; a shadow-eladrin, a bralani who rose up into the air toward the lichfiend, firing arrows from its holy longbow as it came. Against the mundane and magical defenses of the Dark Myrakul, however, its attacks were little more than a distraction.
Lok turned in mid-air and immediately came at the lichfiend again, lifting his axe to strike. This time, however, as he neared its barrier he tensed and hurled his weapon at it. The axe struck its body squarely and bounced back, doing little damage but certainly drawing its attention. The Dark Myrakul gestured, and a black beam lanced into the doughty warrior. Lok had faced dragons, fiends, and even gods, but he could not withstand the power of the energy drain as it mercilessly stole away a considerable fraction of his life-energy. Already seriously injured by the horrid wilting, the genasi had no choice but to fall back, barely clinging to consciousness.
But Lok’s efforts had given the others a few precious moments to act. Arun and Beorna opened up their own barrage of holy missiles, and while they lacked Dannel’s skill, they still managed at least one solid hit that further damaged the undead creature. Dana had withdrawn into the cover of the archway and was engaged in a powerful summoning, while Cal was doing the same from within his own shelter. Mole, unsurprisingly, had disappeared.
The Dark Myrakul unleashed a terrible cry, a sound barely audible to normal hearing, but which seemed to grate upon the soul like fingernails drawn over a slate. At first the companions thought they were under another magical attack, but the noise seemed to do no lasting harm, and they wondered what it portended.
They did not have long to wait.
“What in the Hells was that?” Beorna said, as she drew another holy arrow and fitted it to her bowstring. As the two dwarves lifted their bows, they saw what looked like a huge black orb appear in the shadows high up near the summit of the spire. The orb grew larger as it plummeted down toward them, taking on form, thick arms and legs, misshapen body…
“Get back!” Arun yelled, pushing Beorna aside before retreating back in the other direction. The Dark Mykrul calmly shifted position, moving out of the way of the plummeting newcomer, which streaked down past it to strike the floor below. At the last moment it had unfolded considerable wings that caught the air, slowing it, but it still hit with enough force to crack the ancient stone.
The thing was huge, bigger even than the misshapen flesh golems they had fought before. It had a similar look, constructed of body parts from various creatures combined to form a new level of monstrosity, but this creature was formed from pieces of fiends, adding the worst elements of multiple species of demons and demodands into one hideous being. The force of its impact would have broken every bone in the legs of a mortal creature, but the demonflesh golem indicated no hindrance whatsoever as it lumbered forward, its massive claws reaching out for the two dwarves.
* * * * *
Chapter 437
“Dannel, no!” Mole cried, only able to watch as another of the Heroes of Cauldron fell, destroyed by a powerful enemy.
Flames engulfed the lichfiend as Dana called upon her last flame strike. But the column of searing divine flame faltered as it struck the body of the Dark Myrakul, dissipating against the undead priest’s spell resistance. It turned toward her, its mocking gaze terrible as its dark orbs pierced her, promising suffering to come.
But the master of Skullrot faced a more immediate problem as Lok lifted off of the ground, empowered by Dana’s fly spell, and knifed straight up toward it. The genasi’s axe was not the ideal weapon against the resistances of the lichfiend, but the look on Lok’s face said that he would not be forestalled by any such hindrance. The Dark Myrakul ignored him, focusing its still-active implosion spell upon Dana. The priestess screamed as the magic gripped her, but staggering backward she drew upon every last reserve of her focus and determination, and was barely able to overcome the potency of the spell before it left her like Dannel, a crumpled mound of flesh.
Lok roared and lifted his axe in both hands, dropping his shield and focusing instead on an all-out attack. Had he struck, he might have sundered even the unholy fabric of the lichfiend’s corporeal form, but as he drew within ten feet of it he rebounded off of an irresistible invisible shield. Momentarily stunned, the genasi’s momentum carried him off to the side, beyond the lichfiend, as he reverberated from that barrier—an antilife shell—and slowly spun to a stop fifteen feet away.
Arun had strung his heavy bow, but what he’d seen thus far had told him that his shots would have no effect upon it. If only he’d been able to close, with his holy avenger… but then the outcome of Lok’s aborted attack told him that the lichfiend had prepared against that contingency as well. The paladin turned and retraced his steps back to where Dannel’s body lay. Only the vague outline left by his garments and armor revealed that the gruesome remnants had once been a living man, but Arun did not spare thoughts for his friend now; this foe would not stop until all of them were either like the elf or forever imprisoned in the cages of Skullrot, their screams adding to the cacophony of insanity that filled the place. The paladin saw what he wanted, and took up Dannel’s bow and magical quiver.
Beorna had realized what he was about, and had followed him. As Arun rose he held out the quiver, which on command had already produced several of the white-fletched arrows from its extra-dimensional space.
A flash of light and a rush of air from the doorway to the golem laboratory announced Cal’s latest contribution to the battle; a shadow-eladrin, a bralani who rose up into the air toward the lichfiend, firing arrows from its holy longbow as it came. Against the mundane and magical defenses of the Dark Myrakul, however, its attacks were little more than a distraction.
Lok turned in mid-air and immediately came at the lichfiend again, lifting his axe to strike. This time, however, as he neared its barrier he tensed and hurled his weapon at it. The axe struck its body squarely and bounced back, doing little damage but certainly drawing its attention. The Dark Myrakul gestured, and a black beam lanced into the doughty warrior. Lok had faced dragons, fiends, and even gods, but he could not withstand the power of the energy drain as it mercilessly stole away a considerable fraction of his life-energy. Already seriously injured by the horrid wilting, the genasi had no choice but to fall back, barely clinging to consciousness.
But Lok’s efforts had given the others a few precious moments to act. Arun and Beorna opened up their own barrage of holy missiles, and while they lacked Dannel’s skill, they still managed at least one solid hit that further damaged the undead creature. Dana had withdrawn into the cover of the archway and was engaged in a powerful summoning, while Cal was doing the same from within his own shelter. Mole, unsurprisingly, had disappeared.
The Dark Myrakul unleashed a terrible cry, a sound barely audible to normal hearing, but which seemed to grate upon the soul like fingernails drawn over a slate. At first the companions thought they were under another magical attack, but the noise seemed to do no lasting harm, and they wondered what it portended.
They did not have long to wait.
“What in the Hells was that?” Beorna said, as she drew another holy arrow and fitted it to her bowstring. As the two dwarves lifted their bows, they saw what looked like a huge black orb appear in the shadows high up near the summit of the spire. The orb grew larger as it plummeted down toward them, taking on form, thick arms and legs, misshapen body…
“Get back!” Arun yelled, pushing Beorna aside before retreating back in the other direction. The Dark Mykrul calmly shifted position, moving out of the way of the plummeting newcomer, which streaked down past it to strike the floor below. At the last moment it had unfolded considerable wings that caught the air, slowing it, but it still hit with enough force to crack the ancient stone.
The thing was huge, bigger even than the misshapen flesh golems they had fought before. It had a similar look, constructed of body parts from various creatures combined to form a new level of monstrosity, but this creature was formed from pieces of fiends, adding the worst elements of multiple species of demons and demodands into one hideous being. The force of its impact would have broken every bone in the legs of a mortal creature, but the demonflesh golem indicated no hindrance whatsoever as it lumbered forward, its massive claws reaching out for the two dwarves.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Took a leave day to grade finals and relax... so here's the Friday Cliffhanger a bit early:
* * * * *
Chapter 438
Arun felt a cold touch of fear settle over his soul as the gaze of the demonflesh golem met his. But he was a knight consecrated to the hammer of Moradin, and the fell power of such a monster held no power over him. Drawing his sword, he rushed at it, taking the hit he knew he would have to withstand to get to it, tearing free from its grasping claw, lunging forward and bringing his sword down into its leg.
It was like hewing at old leather with a dull knife. The thing’s hide was incredibly strong, but the construct was infused with evil, and that made it vulnerable to the power inherent in Arun’s weapon. The paladin stood his ground as the golem pounded him with its huge claws, one larger than the other, drawn from different creatures. It was strong—insanely strong—but Arun was full of the power of his god, and he gave as good as he got.
And then Beorna was at his side, hewing at it with him, her own deep voice adding a strident dwarvish battle cry. It was only then that Arun realized that he’d been singing a song of battle that he had not heard since his youth in the Rift, part of the past he thought he’d put behind him.
But the golem was not merely a tough physical combatant; it was infused with dark magical powers as well. It demonstrated this by opening its jaws wide and breathing a cloud of vapors upon the dwarves that tore into their already desiccated bodies; it was in effect another horrid wilting upon the one that the Dark Mrykul had hit them with before. But the dwarves stood their ground. Beorna was able to shake off the effect this time, her divinely granted mettle protecting her. Arun lacked that gift, although he withstood the worst of the effect, and while he was weakened, he was able to fight on.
But then a coruscating pillar of flame descended from above, a gift from the Dark Myrakul who still hovered sixty feet above them, wreathed in its multilayered wards, all but immune to attack. Beorna had simply taken too much abuse; she collapsed, smoke rising from the gaps of her armor, a stench of burned flesh rising above her. Arun had been protected from fire, but he too suffered from the corrupt energies of the strike, and suddenly his situation looked a lot more dire.
But with Beorna lying unconscious beside him, he could not retreat, even grievously wounded with a dire foe looming over him. He lifted his sword again, knowing that without help, there could only be one outcome.
But help was in short supply, as the dwarf’s companions were finding themselves in dire situations of their own.
Dana had summoned an avoral, which she’d commanded to aid Lok. The genasi had withdrawn to one of the galleries flanking the main hall, barely conscious, collapsing to the floor behind the shelter of one of the stairwells, fumbling with a healing potion from the pouch at his waist. He felt weak, diminished; the energy drain had stolen much from him.
The Dark Myrakul had ignored the bralani thus far, which had closed to almost point-blank range, firing arrows that caromed harmlessly off its many shields. The lichfiend recognized it as a shadow-creature, of course, which further diminished its effectiveness. But as a quartet of lantern archons—also shadowed—rose up from below, blasting with their light-beams as they came, its patience was exhausted. It spoke a word of blasphemy, instantly destroying the summoned creatures, including the avoral as it headed toward Lok’s retreat.
That small matter attended to, the master of Skullrot examined the battlefield. Its demonflesh golem had the dwarven warriors well in hand, especially after its flame strike had taken out the female. The enemy spellcasters had withdrawn to shelter to summon allies, but if the shadow-creatures and the avoral were the best they could do, then this engagement would soon be completed.
Content in its own invincibility, the lichfiend began its own powerful conjuration.
Mole’s heart pounded in her chest as she ran up the stairs, the sound warring with the noises of battle and the usual screams of torment that filled Skullrot. Desperation thrust her onward, and she rapidly gained height, ascending the varied tiers of the citadel, glancing out over each balcony that she passed, dreading the sight of the lichfiend waiting, watching her, ready to blast her with some nasty magic. The sinister powers inherent in Skullrot kept her from becoming invisible, but cloaked in her dark garments, and nearly silent, she was almost undetectable. Still, she did not trust in her skills to conceal her from this enemy, which had already killed one of her friends with apparent ease.
It’ll kill all of them, if you don’t do something! came that annoying voice in the back of her mind that tried to interfere whenever she did something crazy.
“I’m working on it!” she hissed back, coming to a stop at one of the galleries. She was a little bit below the lichfiend’s level, now, although as she saw the roar of a flame strike knife down at her friends below, she knew that she didn’t have any more time to go higher.
But instead of running toward the balcony and the battle raging in the interior of the asylum, she ran outward, deeper into the gallery. Huge portals of iron set with small, barred openings were set along the walls at regular intervals, from which the familiar screams issued intermittently.
Mole glanced through a few of those openings, hopping up with her magical boots long enough to look through. Finally she came to a likely candidate, and stopped. She drew out the chime of opening she’d taken from Slouva’s body, but she didn’t need to use it immediately; the door was open.
That was odd, and it gave her pause, but the desperate sounds from without drove her forward.
As she entered she saw why the outer door hadn’t needed to be locked. The prisoner was secured with chains that surrounded him entirely, pinning arms, legs, and body with a thoroughness that she had to acknowledge even as she felt pity for the poor thing’s suffering. The captive was a planetar, his wings battered remnants, the rest of his body in little better condition. He lifted his head and regarded her, his eyes full of a deep madness that Mole might have recognized had she not been in such a hurry.
“We’re having quite a lot of trouble with that lich,” she told him, as she lifted the chime toward him. “If you could… well, you know, use your holy powers and all, help destroy it… well, that would really be helpful.”
She struck the chime, and the chains loosened their grip upon their captive. Of course, she wasn’t quite ready for the reaction she got from the released celestial. It wasn’t quite the gratitude she’d expected…
* * * * *
Chapter 438
Arun felt a cold touch of fear settle over his soul as the gaze of the demonflesh golem met his. But he was a knight consecrated to the hammer of Moradin, and the fell power of such a monster held no power over him. Drawing his sword, he rushed at it, taking the hit he knew he would have to withstand to get to it, tearing free from its grasping claw, lunging forward and bringing his sword down into its leg.
It was like hewing at old leather with a dull knife. The thing’s hide was incredibly strong, but the construct was infused with evil, and that made it vulnerable to the power inherent in Arun’s weapon. The paladin stood his ground as the golem pounded him with its huge claws, one larger than the other, drawn from different creatures. It was strong—insanely strong—but Arun was full of the power of his god, and he gave as good as he got.
And then Beorna was at his side, hewing at it with him, her own deep voice adding a strident dwarvish battle cry. It was only then that Arun realized that he’d been singing a song of battle that he had not heard since his youth in the Rift, part of the past he thought he’d put behind him.
But the golem was not merely a tough physical combatant; it was infused with dark magical powers as well. It demonstrated this by opening its jaws wide and breathing a cloud of vapors upon the dwarves that tore into their already desiccated bodies; it was in effect another horrid wilting upon the one that the Dark Mrykul had hit them with before. But the dwarves stood their ground. Beorna was able to shake off the effect this time, her divinely granted mettle protecting her. Arun lacked that gift, although he withstood the worst of the effect, and while he was weakened, he was able to fight on.
But then a coruscating pillar of flame descended from above, a gift from the Dark Myrakul who still hovered sixty feet above them, wreathed in its multilayered wards, all but immune to attack. Beorna had simply taken too much abuse; she collapsed, smoke rising from the gaps of her armor, a stench of burned flesh rising above her. Arun had been protected from fire, but he too suffered from the corrupt energies of the strike, and suddenly his situation looked a lot more dire.
But with Beorna lying unconscious beside him, he could not retreat, even grievously wounded with a dire foe looming over him. He lifted his sword again, knowing that without help, there could only be one outcome.
But help was in short supply, as the dwarf’s companions were finding themselves in dire situations of their own.
Dana had summoned an avoral, which she’d commanded to aid Lok. The genasi had withdrawn to one of the galleries flanking the main hall, barely conscious, collapsing to the floor behind the shelter of one of the stairwells, fumbling with a healing potion from the pouch at his waist. He felt weak, diminished; the energy drain had stolen much from him.
The Dark Myrakul had ignored the bralani thus far, which had closed to almost point-blank range, firing arrows that caromed harmlessly off its many shields. The lichfiend recognized it as a shadow-creature, of course, which further diminished its effectiveness. But as a quartet of lantern archons—also shadowed—rose up from below, blasting with their light-beams as they came, its patience was exhausted. It spoke a word of blasphemy, instantly destroying the summoned creatures, including the avoral as it headed toward Lok’s retreat.
That small matter attended to, the master of Skullrot examined the battlefield. Its demonflesh golem had the dwarven warriors well in hand, especially after its flame strike had taken out the female. The enemy spellcasters had withdrawn to shelter to summon allies, but if the shadow-creatures and the avoral were the best they could do, then this engagement would soon be completed.
Content in its own invincibility, the lichfiend began its own powerful conjuration.
Mole’s heart pounded in her chest as she ran up the stairs, the sound warring with the noises of battle and the usual screams of torment that filled Skullrot. Desperation thrust her onward, and she rapidly gained height, ascending the varied tiers of the citadel, glancing out over each balcony that she passed, dreading the sight of the lichfiend waiting, watching her, ready to blast her with some nasty magic. The sinister powers inherent in Skullrot kept her from becoming invisible, but cloaked in her dark garments, and nearly silent, she was almost undetectable. Still, she did not trust in her skills to conceal her from this enemy, which had already killed one of her friends with apparent ease.
It’ll kill all of them, if you don’t do something! came that annoying voice in the back of her mind that tried to interfere whenever she did something crazy.
“I’m working on it!” she hissed back, coming to a stop at one of the galleries. She was a little bit below the lichfiend’s level, now, although as she saw the roar of a flame strike knife down at her friends below, she knew that she didn’t have any more time to go higher.
But instead of running toward the balcony and the battle raging in the interior of the asylum, she ran outward, deeper into the gallery. Huge portals of iron set with small, barred openings were set along the walls at regular intervals, from which the familiar screams issued intermittently.
Mole glanced through a few of those openings, hopping up with her magical boots long enough to look through. Finally she came to a likely candidate, and stopped. She drew out the chime of opening she’d taken from Slouva’s body, but she didn’t need to use it immediately; the door was open.
That was odd, and it gave her pause, but the desperate sounds from without drove her forward.
As she entered she saw why the outer door hadn’t needed to be locked. The prisoner was secured with chains that surrounded him entirely, pinning arms, legs, and body with a thoroughness that she had to acknowledge even as she felt pity for the poor thing’s suffering. The captive was a planetar, his wings battered remnants, the rest of his body in little better condition. He lifted his head and regarded her, his eyes full of a deep madness that Mole might have recognized had she not been in such a hurry.
“We’re having quite a lot of trouble with that lich,” she told him, as she lifted the chime toward him. “If you could… well, you know, use your holy powers and all, help destroy it… well, that would really be helpful.”
She struck the chime, and the chains loosened their grip upon their captive. Of course, she wasn’t quite ready for the reaction she got from the released celestial. It wasn’t quite the gratitude she’d expected…
Solarious
Explorer
Oh, things are about to get real messy... Celestials get sent to Skullrot for a reason, ya know.
My, my, Lok is currently out of action, and now Beorna is down for the round. Cal and Dana are currently proving ineffective... Lok is about to recieve a long-awaited visit from Kalamor (Muhahahahaha!)...Myrakul is bringing more nasties to crowd the battlefeild...
Life is good.
My, my, Lok is currently out of action, and now Beorna is down for the round. Cal and Dana are currently proving ineffective... Lok is about to recieve a long-awaited visit from Kalamor (Muhahahahaha!
)...Myrakul is bringing more nasties to crowd the battlefeild...Life is good.
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