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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 3639672" data-attributes="member: 143">Ah, but that's why I run Neverwinter Nights campaigns... allows me to spread my reach. Although I don't think my players would otherwise disagree with your assessment. <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /> They're in the 3.5 version of the module as well. I killed off one of the mariliths and most of the flunkies as part of the ritual in Chapter 110. As for Maphistal... well, keep reading.  <img src="http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png"  class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":]" title="Devious    :]" data-shortname=":]" /> Book 3 finale tomorrow!* * * * * Chapter 208A TENUOUS THREADShay stirred.  The paralysis that had gripped her muscles began to fade, as a warm glow seeped down her arm from the crystal ring around her finger.  Celleen’s ring of freedom of movement counteracted the aftereffects of Maphistal’s dread word of power, and she felt her muscles tingle as her control over them was restored.  Her body still screamed in protest; the wounds she had suffered from Gernaldra had not been healed, and her life essence had taken a pounding in the last days that even magical healing could not fully erase.  But those hurts were nothing in comparison to the sick feeling in her gut as she raised her head, slightly, just enough to see the ruined form sprawled next to her on the cold stone floor.  Talen’s hand was extended slightly toward her, as if in sick mockery of a greeting.  That hand had held her, touched her... The feelings crashed over her like a wave, threatening to drag her down into oblivion.  Part of her wanted to go, to let them carry her away to a place where she could feel them no longer.  But she heard the demon’s words, imprinted on her mind, and as an echo of them, she thought she could hear Talen’s voice.  Don’t give up, my love... it falls to you to save us all...The scout sprang to her feet, her hand extended as she dove forward.  Her fingers closed on cold metal, and then a flood of warmth rushed down her hand, echoed by a sudden surge of flames.  From where he lay, Varo could clearly see the demon looming over him, and behind it the shifting field of color that surrounded the Sphere of Souls.  The haze that clouded his mind was beginning to lift, but he still could not act; it was as if his body and mind were disconnected, and the latter was surrounded by a dense, clinging fog.  His brain registered Shay leaping to her feet, but by the time he had consciously discerned the significance of that action, the scout had already taken up Beatus Incendia and was charging into the chaos field that emanated from the Sphere. Varo’s heart began to pound faster, especially when he glanced up and saw the demon shift, turning its head to look back at Shay.  Varo tried to force his body to act, tried to summon his magic, but neither was within his power.  There was nothing he could have done in any case; he now realized that he’d been wrong about the threat posed by Maphistal.  Even if he had saved his banishment, or dispel evil, or one of the other potent spells granted him by Dagos, there was almost no chance that any of them could have harmed this adversary.  They’d been doomed from the start. So Varo could only watch as Shay disappeared into the roiling chaos, and became just an indistinct point of blazing white light amidst the surrounding waves of color.  Somehow she’d shaken off its blasphemy, but he knew it could stun her, or blast her, or summon some other dark power of the Abyss to strike her down. The demon did nothing. Shaylara’s senses were overloaded by the swirling mélange of colors that surrounded the Sphere of Souls.  She felt emotions battering at her consciousness, and around her everything started to become indistinct as her awareness shattered under the assault.  She focused on the Sphere, a point of light in the center of the chaos, but as the solid foundation around her began to break apart, she knew she would never reach it.  She was flying; there was no sensation of gravity, no floor, only the chaos around her.  The only thing that still provided an anchor was the blazing sword in her hand, but even that was starting to fade away, become insubstantial like a distant lantern lost in a fog.  Shay screamed, but the sound was lost in the surging chaos.  With the last bit of conscious will she could grasp, she swept her hand across, and hurled Beatus Incendia forward, toward that point of light. A sound startled her through the enfolding chaos, a crash of glass.  It was followed by a noise like the breaking of the world, and then blackness. Varo saw none of this.  He could only watch as the scout vanished, and then stare up at the demon, which seemed as paralyzed as he by the changing circumstances.  With it turned away, Varo could not see its face clearly, but he saw a subtle shift in its expression, a twist at the edge of its mouth. A cold feeling washed over him. He tried to cry out, but his body was still beyond his reach, and he managed only a weak little bleat.  The demon heard it and turned back toward him, and now the cleric could see the full magnitude of the truth in its eyes. And then it all exploded.  The demon partially blocked him from the Sphere, but that offered no shelter from the wave of power that blasted outward.  Varo felt his soul, a tenuous thread of life that swayed and danced under that pulse.  He looked up at the demon, which had spread its wings and arms wide, a look of exultation on its face.  For a split second it was silhouetted against a blazing surge that was both light and darkness and color and nullity all at once.  In that instant, what Varo saw was frozen in his memory, burned into his awareness.  For it was not the demon Maphistal that stood there, but a different entity, one that had laughed in the shadowy recesses of Varo’s mind ever since he’d first found that dusty tome in a forgotten corner of the church archives decades ago. Orcus shifted his gaze down, and Varo knew that if the Demon deigned to perceive him, he would be utterly obliterated.  But Varo’s consciousness had already been blasted beyond the strength of most mortals.  The last thing he perceived was the demon’s form wavering and dissolving, accompanied by an echo of malevolent laughter.  And then the black came, and dragged him down into its welcoming embrace.</blockquote>

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