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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4134106" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 9THE TEMPLE OF THE FINAL SACRAMENTOn the same morning that the funeral service for Velan Tiros was scheduled to began in Camar, the dawn was just a rumor on the eastern horizon when the four made their appearance.  All but invisible in the predawn haze, the four figures drifted down out of the sky, into a densely wooded dell nestled into the range of rolling hills and jagged ridges that abutted the sea.  The four wind walkers drifted between the web of interlocking branches and drifted to the ground, which was covered with layers of dead leaves.  They took on substance after a few moments as the spell ended, leaving them standing in a cluster facing the south.  “This way,” Ghazaran said, leading the way. They did not have far to go to their destination.  The ground descended as they made their way forward, toward the darkest depths of the dell.  The air was cold, still, the web of branches above them blocking out both the light and the wind.  Dead twigs crackled under their feet, and only the lack of undergrowth allowed them to press ahead without light to direct them.  The forest was otherwise silent, dead. “This is ill-advised,” the Seer said, his voice sounding eerily loud in the morning stillness.  “Not only do we lose the abilities of Jasek and Parzad, but we place ourselves in a position where we will be unable to render aid, should they encounter difficulties in their mission.”Ghazaran did not look back.  “We have no choice but to proceed, and quickly.  My divination has revealed that our enemies have knowledge of our plans, and will attempt to intervene.”“All the more reason to abandon this side errand, and focus on our primary objective.”“I have consulted with higher powers, mage.  We will require the assistance of the Duke to have any chance of success in the Well.”The wizard subsided as the ground leveled out, and a structure rose out of the forest ahead of them. The fane was located in a clearing, but the surrounding trees extended their long branches over it like a shroud, leaving only a tiny opening through which the slowly brightening sky could be seen above.  Those trees nearest the building itself were short, stunted affairs, and nothing at all grew within about ten paces of the massive blocks of black marble that marked its foundation.  The structure was not especially large, perhaps thirty feet by forty.  A set of weathered stone steps faced them, leading up to a black opening in the front of the building.   Falah had moved ahead unbidden to scout out the perimeter.  The hulking southerner was clad in a breastplate of black adamantine, and wore his huge khopesh slung across his back, atop a bulky bundle wrapped in leather and bound with thick black cords.  For a man of his size, he moved with surprising grace and speed, possibly the result of magical augmentation. “We shall have to move quickly,” Ghazaran said.  “I hope that your knowledge of the ways is as good as you claim, wizard.”“I will do my part,” the Seer said.  “We will face trials within.  Our combined spellpower is considerable, and its presence will help,” he said, with a nod in the direction of Zafir Navev, who stood a short distance away, masked in its robes, its thoughts private.  “However, we are lacking in brute strength, no offense intended to your guardian.”“I have arranged for assistance in that area,” Ghazaran said.  He walked over to the side of the fane.  The ground here was blasted and dry, the soil infused with a reddish taint like dried blood.   Falah had returned, and the cleric turned to him.  “I require ten minutes of undisturbed solitude.”  The fighter nodded, and took up a warding stance a few paces away. As the Seer and Navev watched silently, the cleric knelt and incanted a ritual of summoning.  The complex phrases, full of guttural croaks and unnatural syllables, felt somehow appropriate to this dismal place.  The Seer eventually grew bored and walked over to the front of the building, inspecting an inscribed plaque of black metal set into the stone at the top of the stairs.  He did not enter the structure itself.  Navev shuffled back and forth, faint noises issuing occasionally from the depths of its cowl.  By the time that Ghazaran completed his summoning, the others had returned, awaiting the conclusion of his spell.  A frisson of dark energies had begun to gather in the space before him, and as he concluded his invocation a considerable form began to materialize within that vortex.  Ghazaran concluded by issuing a repeated command, “Zuur’ka, Zuur’ka, Zuur’ka!” then sagged back, weakened by the energies involved in the summoning. As he finished the third repetition of the name, the summoned creature stepped forward out of the energy matrix and took on substance.  It was big, over nine feet of stony flesh and bulging muscles.  It looked like a gargoyle at first glance, with broad wings and a long face complete with protruding fangs and jutting horns.  But it had four arms rather than two, and it carried a massive axe in two of them, which it lifted menacingly as it loomed over the priest.  Falah regarded the newcomer impassively, trusting in the commands of his master, but the Seer and Navev both tensed, expectant, their respective powers ready at hand.  “You dare to call me again, human!” the nycaloth said, its voice deep and powerful.  “I am not some lesser being to be yanked from Gehenna to serve your whims!  I warned you the last time that you trifle with the nether powers at the risk of your soul!”If Ghazaran was discomfited by the creature’s threats, or the proximity of the big axe to his neck, he gave no sign of it.  “I do not call you for a trifle, mighty Zuur’ka,” he said.  “I give you the opportunity to discomfit a rival, to rend demons, and to gain a prize that will serve you well in your war against the infernal hosts that invade your realm.”“Bah,” the loth said, but its curiosity was ill-disguised.  “If I might show you what I offer, great Zuur’ka?” Ghazaran prodded.  The nycaloth made a small gesture, and Ghazaran nodded to Falah.  The warrior unlimbered his falchion, hooking the hilt into his belt within easy reach before he unslung the large package across his back.  The cords parted to reveal a greataxe, its single blade an glimmering arc of white steel.  It glowed slightly as the fighter grasped the hilt, and tiny sparks of flickering energy began to dance around the blade as he tugged it free and tossed the leather wrap aside. “A shock axe might be a useful weapon, against those devils with which you war,” Ghazaran suggested.“The weapon is puny in size,” Zuur’ka said.  And while it was true that the yugoloth’s axe was considerably larger, the greed in its eyes as it looked upon the offered weapon was impossible to dissemble, and fooled none of those present.  The negotiations passed quickly, and concluded with the outsider taking the axe, and a position at the van of their company.  The nycaloth barely acknowledged Falah or the Seer, but it gave a hard look to Navev, whose bandaged fingers clenched and unclenched, while black tendrils of insubstantial energy writhed between them.  They made their way back up the steps, to the entrance of the fane.  The interior of the building was a single small chamber, the only feature of note the metal plaque set into the floor of the entry, and a ramp inside that descended into the earth.  Ghazaran paused for a moment to look up at the brightening sky one last time.  “We have approximately six hours until the ceremony in Camar begins.  We must complete our errand swiftly, so that we may be ready when Jasek and Parzad rejoin us.”“And if something goes wrong?” the Seer asked. Ghazaran’s smile was anything but friendly.  “You must have faith.”  He turned and nodded to Zuur’ka, who started down the ramp, the others falling into a line behind him.  Within a few moments, they were gone, and the dark fane again became silent.</blockquote>

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