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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 2698056" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 484Diffuse rays of golden light filtered down through the forest upon the elves from Aldair Kelalei, as they made their way into the ruins of Bryth’an Torgul.  They were six, now, leaving Dalan and Yaela behind to mark their latest confrontation with the baelorn’s minions.   Dalan had been torn to pieces by the mohrgs, along with Longfang, but they hadn’t been sure of Yaela when they’d pulled her out under the remains of the slain shambler.  She’d looked peaceful, without any obvious wounds, but when they’d lifted her they’d found a sharpened stub of a branch that had slid through her back into a lung when the mass of the dead creature had fallen on her.  A freak wound, ill fortune, and another death.  They’d left behind Yaela’s eagle, which had survived its own encounter with the mohrgs, but which had simply watched them from a high branch as they departed the fateful clearing. Their healing wands and potions had restored the survivors to health, but all of the elves bore haunted looks with them as they completed the final stage of their journey.  Dannel had considered the wisdom of proceeding, but none of them raised the possibility of retreat, at least not out loud.  Their encounters on this trip had reinforced the gravity of the danger facing the elves of the Wealdath, and all of them remained committed to doing what they could to defeat that threat.  The quiet beauty of the morning in the forest seemed to mock them.  It seemed as though nothing dangerous could exist in this place, but they knew better, continued hyperalert to the slightest stirring around them.  Ruined structures of old gray stone rose up out of the forest around them, almost invisible until they were almost adjacent.  The forest had reclaimed them over the centuries, until only the odd artificiality of their shape distinguished them from the natural curve of the land and the dense growth.  Eldren seemed to know where he was going, leading them down a narrow path that wound deeper into the ruins.Dannel paused at one point to summon a minor magical spell.  The result was immediately, he staggered back, dropping his bow as he clutched his head. “Dannel!  What is it?” Ellene asked, appearing at his side to help him.  Her words were slightly slurred by the wreckage of her jaw; multiple cure light wounds had healed most of her wounds, but that spell alone could not fully repair the damage done to her face by the mohrgs.  The others quickly gathered on him, alert for any sign of ambush or assault. “I… I’m okay,” he said, as the effects of the spell—lost immediately upon casting—faded.  “That was foolish,” he said.  “I tried to detect for magic, but it’s everywhere, here… overwhelming.”“We’re close,” Eldren said, unnecessarily.  “Use whatever wards and protections you have, now.”  He took his own advice by consuming another barkskin potion, then led them forward once again. “The baelnorn… what can we expect?” Ellene asked. “The elves that become undead guardians were among the most powerful spellcasters of our history,” Jannae said.  “High priests, hierophants, archmages.  The potency of their magic is greater than almost any elf living today.”“And with the mythal at its command, that power may be even greater,” Dannel said.  “How can we deal with the artifact?” one of the other elves, Lyson, asked. “Focus on the lich,” Eldren said.  “Once we take out the guardian, then we’ll deal with the mythal.”Dannel, having touched that power directly, had his own doubts about that, but he said nothing. The forest cover began to thin out somewhat, and more sunlight was visible ahead in a broad clearing populated by several clusters of ruined stone interspersed with occasional ancient trees.  Brush covered everything in a dense carpet, except along a pathway that may have once been a roadway of smooth paving stones.  Now, that avenue was a tangle of weeds and fragments of ancient stones, frequently interrupted by gaping holes that had been claimed by weeds and dense knots of thornbushes. The center of the clearing was dominated by a pair of low mounds, compact hills grown over with brush and waist-high brown grass.  Between them sat a more cohesive structure, a ruin that still had partially-intact walls grown over with vines and clinging brush.  There was enough of the building left to hint at what it might have once been, a beauty of flowing, curved walls and aspiring vaults.  Pieces of broken stone lay about, carved in intricate patterns that reflected an exceptional craftsmanship even after millennia of exposure and neglect.  As they drew nearer, they could see that a stone arch over the entry to the ancient building remained intact.  The stone had been fashioned to resemble an arbor, complete with intricate carvings of roses that had been worn down by the passage of time.  A strong smell hung over the place, the stench of death and decay. Jannae lingered back with Dannel as Eldren led them slowly toward the structure. “I understand your concern,” she whispered.  “If Eldren and I should fall… there is a potent device in my pouch, a blanket formed of a weave as light as spiderwebs.  There is also a scroll, an incantation in the old dialect.  I do not know if you can read it, but if it comes to it…”She was interrupted by a cry from Eldren, followed by the twang of a bowstring.  They turned to see the lich standing in the entry of the structure, its arms uplifted, its eyes closed.  Apparently oblivious to them, its lips moved in a silent invocation.  Dannel saw the arrows fired at it veer suddenly upward as they entered the building; clearly some sort of magical ward protected the undead spellcaster. “Come on!” Eldren said, drawing his sword and rushing forward.  The others followed, but Dannel hesitated as he heard a crackling sound, and turned to see a twisting thicket erupt out of the ground in a wide ring around the ruin, encompassing the southern of the two hills within its radius.  The wall of thorns rose to at least fifteen feet high, and was so thick that Dannel could not see anything beyond it.  Trapped! he thought.  He had barely started running again when a massive roar filled the clearing.  “What now?” he hissed, stumbling and nearly going down.  Jannae, a few paces ahead, had fallen, and she clung to the ground.  The other elves were likewise affected, abandoning their charge in an effort just to stay on their feet.  Only the lich appeared unaffected, secure within the walls of his shelter.  As the tremors eased, Dannel bent to help Jannae, who quickly regained her footing.  “That doesn’t bode well,” she began, and her eyes widened as she caught sight of something behind him.  Dannel turned in time to see the “hill” rise up, tearing itself free of the ground.  A sick smell of rot washed over them, a dozen times stronger than before, the foulness of a slaughterhouse floor left abandoned on a hot day.  As the elves watched, the top of the mound split into a gaping, jagged maw, and long tentacles appeared from within the bulk of the thing, lashing out at the invaders.</blockquote>

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