“So nice to see you again, Magess Alaria. It is nice of you to come all of this way...just to see me. It warms the cockles...and saves me a great deal of time and effort.” the skull continued to speak.
“For what dragon? You already have the orb. What more do you need of us?” Alaria said angrily.
“Whenever you are ready, I await your attendance to the party in the throne room. You recall where that is, I’m sure. You’ve given us cause for much celebration.” the skull replied.
“But...but my spell said...I was so sure...” Haelan practically whimpered in fear as he listened to the magic-mouthed skull.
“It seems your spell was fooled, Haelan. I am sorry. We...I should have anticipated that contingency.”
“Whenever you are ready...I’m waaaaitiiiiiing...” the skull said as Braddok set Kandu’s tip upon the skull and it burned away into dust.
“What do we do now?” Fen said.
“Pyrnion, make yourself invisible and remain so until we have an opportunity to escape.” Braddok said. “The rest of us...sounds like we have an audience to attend.”
“Braddok, how can we...they’re waiting...ready for us. We can not possibly fight our way out of this entire mountain.” Alaria said, defeat dripping from every word.
“We will find a way.” Braddok said, seeking to reassure himself as much as the others.
They descend the long circling staircase that clung to the outer edge of the wide tower.
Braddok thought frantically.
“Haelan, when i give the word, you and I are on the wights. Alaria and Fen do what you can to stop...or at least distract, Tresahd. Duor, you and Jovias are in charge of holding off the hobgoblins that will, no doubt, be there. Anyone who sees the Ihs Repahl, go for it and then we all make for the teleport dais, like last time.” the warrior finally explained in hushed tonesas they came to the base of the tower.
Two smirking hobgoblins bowed and directed them with opened arms to the doorway that led them to a long hall way that wrapped around and brought them to the great main gates, where a dozen more hobgoblin soldiers stood at attention, of the central hall.
“Are you insane?!” Fen blurted. “We don’t stand a chance.”
“We are the Stormriders, my friend. We always stand a chance.” Braddok asserted.
“What if Rach’sha shoes up?” Haelan said nervously, eyes the grimacing hobgoblins as they walked by.
“Then we deal with that.” Braddok said simply, inwardly hoping very much that the behir would not be in attendance.
As they entered the hall, at the far end directly across from the huge swan-carved throne, the ghostly music played an eerie melody and the wights, in their tattered finery, swirled and pranced in organized rows. Inside the chamber, at each of the pillars, stood skeletal warriors in the tattered remains of blue tunics, the dingy remnants of once-white swans seen on a few that were intact.
“Come! Come closer! Enjoy the party. Can I offer refreshment?” Tresahd nearly chuckled from the throne as he ushered them forward.
The wights made one last swirling turn before parting into two even rows to either side of the chamber, bowed low toward each other and remained bowed to form a pathway for the heroes down the middle of the chamber.
“Come closer, Magess Alaria. It is a delight to see you and your companions once more. Here, have some wine.” Tresahd said and with a gesture, a skeleton holding a silver platter filled with goblets came forward from the side of the dais.
“It’s not poisoned, I assure you.” Tresahd grinned.
“You will forgive me, Magus Tresahd, if I do not take your ‘assurances’ to heart.” Alaria replied. “We are defeated. You have won. The Ihs Repahl is yours. Release us and we will not return.”
“HAHAHA!” Tresahd guffawed. All of the wight “nobles” joined in the laughter, ending abruptly as soon as Tresahd finished.
“Release you? Nononono. I don’t think so.” Tresahd said.
“Well if you are to kill us, get it over with!” Braddok dared.
“So eager to return to the Greylands, are you? *tsk tsk* Desri would not be too pleased, I’d dare say.” Tresahd replied.
Braddok, in fact all of the company, was surprised to hear the wizard-dragon knew about Braddok’s past.
“Oh yes.” Tresahd said, whether reading their expressions or their minds was uncertain. ”You don‘t think these passed months you have the ones doing all of the research and attempted spying, do you?”
“What do you want, Tresahd...or should I call you Desaarthal?” Alaria said, stepping forward and mustering all she could not to quake in her boots before the palpably powerful creature.
“Oh? You want to play it like that do you...Would you like to see that one? The form I used to seduce my dearest lord and husband, Gorathial?” Tresahd’s shape was momentarily shrouded in shadows and when they cleared, a woman of otherworldly beauty and baring sat in the throne. Her skin as alabaster as the Lady Amthyriine, her hair the raven tresses (though missing the starlight sparkles) of Lady Evaranthriine, eyes of glinting silver and black lashes twice the length of Rhea’s that seemed to all but flutter off her very eyelids. Her gown, a sleek midnight of velvet with a high collar and trimmed sleeves of soft black feathers <DM’s note: think black ostrich feathers, not ravens or other tightly closed feathers>.
“This form you mean?” a melodic feminine voice that was pulsing with power asked.
“Where are our manners?!” she said in mock distress. “My dearest, you’ve not welcomed our guests.” Desaarthal spoke into the shadowed arched recesses of the ceiling. She reached up an elegant arm and seemed to “pull” at the air.
The companions eyes followed the dragon-woman’s gaze and from out of the shadows above them came a grotesque, stony form. Tendrils of flowering vines carved of stone lowered and twined within them, a giant human-looking face of white marble lined in silver. The skin paler than death, drawn tight, wisps of silvery threads struck from its chin forming a thin beard, and looking, for all intents and purposes, a corpse of stone.
As it lowered into the light of the court the wights all again bowed low.
“What is that?” Haelan said in mild disgust.
The marble eyelids then opened t reveal eyes of silver that glowed with a white light.
“This, my dear Hilltender, is the Lord of Gorathgraard. May I present, my love, our guests the Stormriders. Stormriders, the Lord Gorathiel...or what remains. My minions prefer the honorarium of “Overseer” these days. But we’re all friends here, are we not?” Desaarthal sneered at the company.
“My dearest, these are the lovely heroes who slew your beloved daughter Madagbueil.” She spoke to the giant stone face as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The stone face twisted and contorted in what appeared a painful and horrifying visage before a burst of silver light shone from the opened mouth, encompassing all of the companions. A wailing moan of pain and sadness rose until it shook the whole of the throne room.
The companions had to cover their ears to avoid the audio onslaught. Braddok, Jovias and Alaria fell to the their knees beneath the physical force of the sound raining down on them. All felt like their souls would be ripped through their ears. In a final moment of hope, Haelan threw up his arms and in a pleading cry to Faerantha, called up a protection circle that would thwart magical assault...for a time. The silver ring of the sanctuary spell appeared on the floor and immediately became a visible sparkling dome of silver light as the light from the Overseer rained down upon it. The companions relaxed and recovered from the wracking pain left in their heads and hearts.
”Clever quick fix, Hilltender.” Desaarthal said, sincerely impressed. She waved her hand again and the mouth and eyes of the stone face closed and the whole thing receded back into the shadows, pulled up by the stone vines.
“They were very close, you see.” Desaarthal said in mock sadness when the moan subsided. “She was his favorite. Made it all the more important to turn her to me. The others...proved very stubborn wenches. They are free to rot in their demi-planes...cowering in their spires. I care not.”
“So if you do not want to release us and don’t want to kill us...what do you need us for?” alaria posed again.
“Oh! Yes, of course.” Desaarthal said, as if reminded of something important.
“You see, as you’ve no doubt surmised...I need more than just this to see my plans to fruition.” She reached into some unseen pouch or fold of her garments and held out her hand with the Ihs Repahl.
Braddok looked to Alaria. All of the party exchanged glances.
Desaarthal pointed at Haelan. “Bring it to me.” she commanded.
A wight moved closer and was halted by the momentary silvery sparks of the sanctuary spell.
“Ah. Arcana rebismio theran.” Desaarthal spoke th spell of Unmaking with a wave of her arm.
Immediately the sanctuary spell dispersed in a twinkle.
The wight neared Haelan and the daelvar, frozen in panic pulled out his pinecone embossed medallion. “BACK foul creature of undeath! Back away from the glory that is Faerantha!”
The little cleric shone in his honey-colored sun and the scent of evergreen trees filled the hall.
The wight nearest Haelan burst into dust while all the other wailed and shrieked their displeasure and receded into the shadowy forest of pillars to either side. While four of the skeletal guards similarly fell to dust and bone shards.
“That was hardly necessary.” Desaarthal said with some annoyance. She stood and shouted in a voice that must have been heard in every corner and crevice of the fortress.
“BRING ME THE DAELVAR’S PACK!”
“Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose. Stormriders, GO! Get the orb!” Braddok called.
Alaria stood in momentary shock. The daelvar’s pack?! What on earth could Haelan possibly have to do with Desaarthal’s plans? No time to figure it out now. Alaria raised the Staff of Azanna and sent forth a lightning bolt at the woman in the throne.
Pyrnion dove down, still invisible to normal sight, to grab the Ihs Repahl.
Fen invoked his most potent protective incantation. All of the companions, including an unseen Pyrnion, felt a tingling sensation some over them and say a momentary flicker of green light dance across their skin. Then, taking up his green-flaring sacred leaftip spear, raced for the dais.
Braddok took a defensive stance at the rear with Duor and Jovias as hobgoblins came racing into the chamber. Kandu’s blue flames burned fiercely. The sword was beside itself to bite into some wights and shouted into Braddok’s head to do the same.
Buttercream Shadowfeet first took up a defensive stance around the daelvar, but noting the approaching hobgoblins, bounded off to pounce on the first one she could.
Desaarthal held up her left hand and the lightning bolt seemed to...just flow into it. She was completely unharmed!”
The zephari turned visible as he punched at the dragon-in-woman-form with one hand and scooped up the crystal orb with his other.
“AGH!” Desaarthal cried out at the surprise attack. “You. Will. DIE!” she shouted after the winged man. Punching her left hand into the air after him and firing a lightning bolt from it.
Pyrnion saw, with utter amazement that the lightning sparked and danced all across and around him but he felt little more than a static tingle. If not for Fen’s Elemental Immunity, his wounds would have been much worse.
Desaarthal seemed as surprised as the feather winged man as he swooped down and passed the orb to Alaria.
The women’s eyes met and Alaria now smirked a wicked grin. With a thought, Alaria buffetted the dragon-lady back into the massive throne.
Buttercream had taken a wound and decided these ”big goblins were too hard” [their heavy armor] and curved herself around Haelan, stuck in pace maintaining his Turning.
Braddok had slain one hobgoblin and was engaging another, but there were three upon him.
Duor and Jovias were back to back, swiping with daggers. The hobgoblins, however, were using their spears and polearms and both adventurers had taken multiple jabs while the hobgoblins remained out of reach.
“Fen!” shouted the dwarf. “A lil’ green crowd control would be appreciated ‘bout now!”
The half-elf turned and glowered down the hall, taking into account the positioning of his allies. He slammed the butt of his spear into the floor, green lightning struck across the floor of the chamber and vines and roots burst through the cobbled stones of the ancient floor. Nearly all of the hobgoblins assaulting the three companions at the rear were picked up off the ground and held, helpless in the vegetative constraints. Others of them attempted to slice up the vines holding their companions.
Duor and Jovias took the opportunity to switch to their crossbow and short bow respectively and fire into the still entering soldiers as they backed up toward Haelan and Alaria.
Braddok sliced an arm off of one of his foes, ending it, avoided a blow with his shield, but took a nasty slice into his side with a bladed halberd.
“RACH’SHAAAAAA!” Desaarthal shrieked out from the throne.
“RACH’SHAAAA!” “Rach’Shaaa!” “rach’shaaa!” echoed throughout the mountain.
Alaria’s concentration was momentarily broken and the winds died down enough for Desaarthal to remove herself form the throne.
Haelan concentration was similarly interrupted by the shuddering noise and his honey glowing light faltered and dimmed.
The wights immediately pounced at any adventurer they could. Six, in total, headed straight for Haelan to carry out their master/mistress’ wish to bring her the daelvar’s pack.
“Run Buttercream! Stay with Alaria!” Haelan commanded as he flung his shield at one approaching wight while slamming a second with his pinecone-headed mace even as the shield returned to his waiting hand. The ferret followed its orders.
The mace, not itself magical, did little to deter the wight, the one slammed with his shield was momentarily dazed.
Haelan cried out as another of the monster‘s claws bit into his arm. The preternatural cold of undeath coursed through the Hilltender. Still another pulled at Haelan’s back, trying to remove the pack still strapped over his shoulders.
“Abomination! Fall before the Green!” Fen shouted through the hall as he twirled his spear, like a propeller above his head. A ball of green fire flew out from the spear tip, striking a wight nearing Haelan. the green burst into green flames and hooped and shrieked about for a few moments before racing off into the shadows.
Pyrnion swooped down and took down a wight with two strokes of his enchanted hand axe.
“Arakness Aknis Arankinae!" Alaria called out and fired her ball of milky white light at the dark gowned woman on the dais.
The spell struck and iridescent webbing of light was seen for a moment before the spell simply... vanished.
“Nice try, Magess. But do really think your puny mortal magic can compete with real power?”
“We shall see wyrm!” Alaria replied before again commanding the Ihs Repahl to raise her into the air to avoid the encroaching wights.
Safely out of reach, she rained down fans of violet-blue flames upon the wights coming up behind Haelan, being sure to catch one that was lunging for Buttercream.
There was a thundering crash as Rach’sha, the black behir, came through the front gates, trampling over those unfortunate hobgoblins that didn’t know he was coming or unable to get out of the way in time.
Braddok backed away from the great serpentine draconic form that coiled its way into the hall.
“Yes Mother?! What’s all the commoo-hoohoo-tion?...OOOOHOOHOOHOO! Pink Flesh! You’ve returned.” Rach’sha clapped its front four limbs together as it reared back up to look down over the chaotic melee acting out throughout the hall. “I owe you an acid bath.”
“Mother?!' Eeshblek.” Duor said with a shudder.
“Leave the daelvar, Rach‘sha. Kill the rest!” Desaarthal commanded.
“Stormriders, to me!” Alaria called out.
Fen released another ball of green fire into another of the attacking wights. The ‘natural’ magic flame seemed to cause the undead creatures great pain. Before looking up to see the behir at the entrance. A blinding fury filled the half-elf and he bolted for the creature.
Duor and Jovias were scrambling, between and amongst hobgoblins, writhing vines and wights, dodging and tumbling their way back toward the magess who now hovered roughly in the center of the hall.
“HELP!” called out Haelan, who was being physically dragged by two wights toward the dais, limbs flailing but unable to reach his assailants.
“Haelan!” Braddok answered and raced through the hall toward the wights.
*Now we’re talking!* Kandu’s voice sounded in his head. *Finally.*
“Will you shut up and just kill stuff!” Braddok said aloud in annoyance.
Rach’sha took in a great gulp of air, the folds of scaley flesh beneath his snout, where the head met the neck, inflated like a great draconic pelican. Then the behir breathed.
Alaria used the Ihs Repahl to summon up a wall of air and green glowing acid sprayed and rained down all across the enemy forces. Wights, hobgoblins, and more than a little of Fen’s Entanglement vegetation sizzled and hissed as cries of pain went up everywhere.
A bit even sprayed back onto Rach’sha. The behir simply ignored the fluid and shook its head like wet dog to remove the acid that easily slipped off its glossy scaled hide.
Thankfully, Fen had been on the “good” side of the wind wall and the splattering of acid across their enemies seemed to bring him back to his senses.
“Take cover!” the druid commanded in a tone darker than any of the companions had heard before, save Haelan when the druid assaulted Duor in his grief-madness...but the Hilltender had bigger problems.
Braddok sliced one of the wights attempting to block him in two and continued on for the wights dragging.
They were nearing the dais and literally threw the daelvar up onto it. He rolled twice and came to a halt at the feet of Desaarthal.
Haelan looked up at the woman who glared down at him...cold inhuman eyes in a beautiful human face.
“Beliviara contro damini" she said. The words dripped from her lovely lips like honey.
Haelan felt a strange sensation...she wasn’t so bad. She was beautiful...and apparently powerful. She had this fortress full of minions that loved her...she couldn’t be so terrible...she might be a good friend to have.
“Give me...your pack...my dear.” Desaarthal said with a gentle loving smile.
“Of course, Dessie. Can I call you Dessie? I won’t if you don’t want me too...but I think it’s a fine name and rolls off the tongue easier than...”
“GIVE ME YOUR PACK!....Please, honey.” Desaarthal interjected with more than a slight loss of temper.
“Haelan, no!” Braddok shouted as he was cutting his way through the two wights blocking him from the dais.
“Well fine. Pff.” Haelan handed over the holding pack. “No need to yell about it. I mean we’re friends after all.”
“Yes, dear. Yes we are. Now be a love and throw up that little protection incantation you use. It’s getting very dangerous around here and I am afraid I might get hurt.”
“Of course! If it’s one thing I can do its protect my friends...I’m all about it...” Haelan began again to ramble, starry-eyed at the dragon-woman.
Haelan invoked sanctuary even as Braddok climbed the steps and made a great arching strike toward Desaarthal.
Kandu’s blue fire burst against the field of silver sparks.
A roaring rose up, echoing through the hall as green swirling light began to take shape into a vortex emanating from the twirling leaf-tip spear at the opposite side of the hall. Fen had summoned up a storm of hail, ice and frozen winds even as Alaria assaulted Rach’sha with a blast of lightning.
Pyrnion was busy swooping in the slice up wights and what few hobgoblins survived and were trying to work their way around their flanks, while simultaneously assisting Duor and Jovias, who seemed the worse for wear.
“Haelan, take down the spell!” Braddok shouted. “She’s charmed you! She’s the dragon! We have to stop her!” He made another swipe at the mystic barrier but knew it was pointless.
“Pff. I knoooow she’s the dragon, Braddok. But she’s so nice. You’ve got her all wrong..and you were just going to hurt her. I can’t have my friends attacking each other...I mean, what is this world coming to when a human and daelvar and dragon-turned-lady-wizard can’t just get along?”
“Indeed. Well said my champion.” Desaarthal said with a sly grin at Braddok. She opened the pack and removed a few simple items, tossing them to the floor, before pulling out the grey and red-flecked stone food-producing bowl. “Ah, here it is.”
“Oh that’s what you wanted? It does make the most delightful mutton pasties. Have you ever been to the Wyvern’s Wing Inn in Daenfrii?” Haelan said without a care.
“No my dear. But I think I may soon visit.” Desaarthal said with a smile. “Thank you, Hilltender, you’ve been a wonderful help.”
“Well of course, you’re wellllcommOH?” Haelan began to say as the dragon-lady picked the daelvar up by the scruff of the neck, with one hand, and flung him through the air at Braddok.
The Hilltender’s crossing the perimeter of the Sanctuary dismissed the spell, but the swordsman had no choice but to catch the flying hairfoot, as the two fell backwards off the three shallow steps of the dais.
Desaarthal’s cackle again filled the chamber as she said “Kill them ALL!” and disappeared, surrounded in a globe of darkness that dissipated as Alaria’s energy darts flew through them to flash, harmlessly into the stone wall behind.
The dragon was gone. Or, at least no longer in the chamber.
There were no more wights to worry about. The hobgoblins, after heavy casualties, were regrouping behind the behir who was, actually, taking significant damage from the magical assaults from Alaria and Fen.
Pyrnion, Jovias and Duor were picking off what hobgoblins they could with bows and sneak attacks from their flanks.
Once Braddok was sure that Haelan sustained no permanent damage, the two raced back for the battle at the main gates.
“Can you get it outside?!” Braddok shouted over the roaring winds being poured out by the magess and druid.
Alaria nodded. Not a bad idea. Something else she hadn’t thought of. Alaria put that bit of chastisement away for the time being. Gods willing she will have plenty of time for self-recrimination later. With a significant effort, she generated a whirlwind beneath the front half of the behir.
“Oohoohoohoo! Pink flesh, that tickles! HooohoohooOOhoo!” Rach’sha tittered.
Between the two casters, the behir was forced out the gates and swept many of the assembling hobgoblins behind it.
Pyrnion and Braddok grabbed the massive multi-storied stone doors and began straining to move them.
“Get...these...closed...” the swordsman strained with effort.
Both the zephari and Grinlian were sent reeling when a great wind whipped up and slammed the gates shut with a massive crash.
“Kantel Arkanum!” <mage spell: wizard lock> Alaria shouted as she floated over to the doors and pressed her open palm upon it. She then lowered herself to the ground.
Suddenly, the great echoing hall was silent. Corpses and pieces of corpses were scattered around the room.
“Now that...will make a song.” Jovias said as he slumped down to the floor, back against a pillar, blood streaming from multiple wounds.
The companions just looked at the near death satyr.
“I mean, ya know...if we live long enough to get out of here.” Jovias admitted before slipping into unconsciousness.