The Realms of Enlightenment: The Grey Companions

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #319a] You Sly Dog! You Got me Monologing

"Karak, give me that movement ring for a spell," Feln hissed quickly, casting a wary glance at the door. "I'll give it back after this battle." He extended his hand waiting for the dwarf to throw the ring. Karak was having none of it, however.

"Nay, lad," he replied with a shake of his head. "I'll just be holdin' on to that for a bit. how else am I supposed to stand in the Grease and smite my foes?"

Feln gritted his teeth in frustration and a rumbling growl built momentarily in his chest. "Fine!" he snapped after a moment. "Ten paces back down the hall. I will let them pass and then we will crush them between us." He was in motion at once, opening a nearby door and slipping into the empty bedroom. As he went, he spoke to Lela. "Sprite? Can you handle this... captive?" he asked, casting a disparaging glance in Ledare's direction. "Make him a non-threat or I will." Lela nodded and leapt into the air, pulling out a pinch of Dust of Greater Slumber.

She sprinkled it on the man and he returned at once to the dreamland from which he'd been awakened by the VQS' raid. Morier quickly hoisted him up by his arms and dragged him into another empty bedroom.

"Hilde, I want you in there guarding that man. If he comes to, extract what information you can," Ledare said to her and Hildegunna shook her blonde head.

"I think not," she began. "My abilities-"

"I wasn't asking," Ledare replied, her gaze steely. For a heartbeat, she and Hildegunna stared one another down, but in the end, the priestess acquiesced and darted into the room that Morier was just exiting. She spared the Janissary a contemptuous look before closing the door.

"It seems our captive has brought more prisoners," Karak muttered as he, Ledare and Morier formed a fighting wedge in the hallway. "Let's dispatch them quickly and find the priestess. May my axe blade strike true!"

"Consider that these men do not know what we have done, Karak. If they choose to speak, we should give them the opportunity," Ledare remarked even as she slipped into a defensive posture. "This night need not lead to further slaughter." She said that last a bit louder for the invisible Huzair's benefit, but if he took the hint, he gave no sign of it.

Morier gave Ledara a nod as he raised his greatsword. "I will follow your lead," he said.

"Aye," Karak nodded. "I'll await yer decision to strike as well."

Ledare mouthed a quick prayer to Flor that they had not made a gruesome mistake. And then the door thudded as something heavy struck the other side. There was much grunting and cursing from beyond and then the door opened out into a grand hallway of some sort that was lit by lamps set into the walls. There was no time to see more before the doorway was crowded with men and women. The first one in line snarled at the intruders and charged forward... or rather he started to.

His foot contacted the Grease and he went down heavily on his back. Hands reached out and pulled him back to safety. And for a moment, there was an awkward staring match as the two groups regarded one another across the glistening stretch of hallway. It was the Janissary who made the first move toward breaking the stalemate.

"We seek the half-elf, Shamalin," Ledare said, conspicuously displaying the holy symbol of Flor she wore around her neck. The reaction of the men in the first rank was less than positive.

"Never heard of her, b*tch!" one sneered, spitting a gobbet of phlegm into the Grease.

"She one o' them village women?" a second asked.

"Yeah! We ate most of them!" a female voice shouted from the rear, prompting laughter from crowd. The phlegm-spitter raised his bastard sword and leveled it at Ledare across the patch of Grease.

"We got ya out-numbered an' out-muscled," he told her confidently. "Now drop your sword."

"Shamlin is a priestess of Flor," Ledare said, staring at the man's face, ignoring his sword. "She came here with a group calling themselves the Speckled Band." The phlegm-spitter looked at her as if she'd suddenly sprouted a second head.

"Maybe you didn't hear me, b*tch," he spat. "I said drop your ferking sword! Now!!"

"Enough!" a voice commanded from behind the wall of flesh and steel and a change fell at once over the unruly mob. With fearful glances and down-turned eyes, they parted and a man pushed his way to the fore. The warriors shrank away from his touch. It was not Heurist, although there were obvious similarities between this man and the priest of Aphyx that Ledare had been expecting. Like Heurist he was dressed in a tattered brown robe with a cassock of mossy green and a stole the color of an infected scab. And like Heurist, his face was a disaster of boils and running sores. But a many-pointed arrow had been branded into this man's forehead. And he carried a corroded heavy mace in one hand, appearing hale despite the obvious outward signs of disease. He looked at Ledare and Karak and Morier with obvious contempt.

"You and your little band have caused us quite a bit of trouble, Florian," he told her and Huzair recognized the man's voice as being the one he'd heard speak to him with the Ring of Communication. "Killing Sir Brin was a serious blow to the Order of Defilers. All to find a lost priestess?"

"Yes," Ledare said, wrinkling her nose in disgust - the man exuded a stench of decay and corruption. "Where is Shamalin?"

"She was given to Blackheart," the priest said simply. His scabbrous lips split into a gap-toothed smile. "And so she is dead. As will you be in but a few moments. You see, our master has arrived." He was looking passed the group then, at the far end of the corridor and despite herself, Ledare felt compelled to turn and look as well.

She immediately wished she hadn't.

Standing in the room by which they had entered the mansion stood a great shadowy thing. It wore black full plate that sagged awkwardly on its skeletonized body. Two points of azure flame burned in the black sockets of its helmetted skull. A tattered black cape trailed behind it like a reluctant shadow. In one hand it carried a black mace of enormous size whose head was rendered in the shape of a spike-crowned skull. The armored skeleton stood between them and the way out.

"Death..," it rasped. "Death to Her enemies..."

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

Oooh, Death Knight? Or something "better"?

 

[Jon Potter]

Oooh, Death Knight? Or something "better"?

Does Death Knight weilding an artifact count as both?

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #320] Blackheart

"Gods," Morier gasped as he beheld the black figure. Reflexively, his eyes darted around looking for whatever advantage the hallway had to offer them. There wasn't any, but Karak caught sight of the movement as the dwarf was spitting into the palm of his gauntlet and misinterpreted it as a sign that the elf was looking for escape.

"Why what be the matter, Morier?" the dwarf chuckled darkly. "At the first sign of a demon of chaos you want to turn arse and run? Hah! That be the problem of you elves, you are too used to hidin' behind your bows."

"The only question in my mind is whether to fight in the rear or to the fore," he replied. "And... I choose the rear!" He raised his axe and took a single step before Ledare's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"No, Karak! Draw him to us!" she hissed, lifting up on the handle of the bedroom into which she'd just exiled Hildegunna and slamming her armored shoulder against it. "The hallway is a killing field!"

"And running away won't save you!" the Plaguebringer who wasn't Heurist sneered as he drew a tiny bead from his belt and tossed it at Ledare. Unfortunately, his footing was unsteady and his aim was extremely poor; it struck the ground where Ledare had been standing rather than striking the Janissary herself. The bead detonated on the floor sending out a wave of magical force that slammed into everyone within ten feet of its impact. Husair was knocked painfully to the floor and as he got to his knees he saw that a nearly-transparent globe of force filled the ten foot hallway behind him.

"Otiluke's Resilient Sphere," he thought to himself. If it had struck Ledare she would have been trapped inside the sphere, helpless. "That's not coming down any time soon."

"Aaaagh!! You have a weakling's luck, Florian!" the Plaguebringer cursed at Ledare. His nose was bleeding from the explosion - missing his intended target had put him within the blast radius. He half-turned and shouted, "Get around to the window, you fools! Make sure she does not escape! Blackheart will want to break that one personally."



Karak was pissed. He was not a progressive dwarf and he retained a healthy distrust of magic - a hold over from another age when men and elves used magic and dwarves wielded axes... and that's the way they liked it. No, Karak didn't like spells flying on the battlefield and he especially didn't like spells that cut him off from his allies. Only Morier remained on this side of the force sphere and he looked somewhat dazed by the explosion. No matter. So long as there was an enemy to vent his displeasure on, he was happy.

"My axe comes for ye!" he bellowed, spittle flying recklessly from his mouth as he charged the skeletal figure. He could feel the oily aura of fear surrounding the figure an instant before he slammed his waraxe into the undead thing's belly. The weapon bit deeply into the creature's torso, opening a ghastly rent in its plate armor. No sooner had Karak drawn the weapon back than the hole closed as if it had never been there in the first place.

Despite the haze of battle rage, the dwarf felt a tiny prickle of uncertainty touch his heart.



Inside the room, Ledare pressed ineffectually against the sphere of force blocking the doorway. It was useless.

"How badly... are you... hurt?" Hildegunna gasped behind her and Ledare turned to see the priestess getting awkwardly to her feet, clutching her ribs as she did so. Her face was a mask of pain and blood flowed freely from her mouth and from one ear. Their prisoner, sleeping blissfully on a bed along the wall was well out of range of the force blast, but Hildegunna clearly hadn't been so lucky; she'd been standing near the door when Ledare opened it and had taken the same punishment from the explosion that the Janissary had.

"Hildegunna!" Ledare exclaimed, concerned in spite of herself but the cleric waived her away.

"I only have... two curative miracles... left to me," the woman managed. "The White Lady expects me... to heal those... in the most need." She smiled grimly, her teeth stained with crimson. "Even if that means... you, Ledare."



Huzair stood up painfully, although it felt like something had broken in his gut. He needed healing, but Ledare had seen fit to put their only cleric off in a room by herself. There was nothing she could do for him. He popped a healing draught from his potion belt and was getting ready to unstopper it when he saw the Grease spell dissipate. Fortunately he'd been going over his available spells while Ledare was chatting up the locals and he had mica dust in-hand.

"Aureolus pulvis!" he intoned and cast the dust into the air, filling immediately with Glitterdust the area around the doorway. The Plaguebringer was within the area of effect and was thus coated liberally with sparkling gold, but he managed to blink away the blinding effect and regarded the newly-visible Huzair with seething hatred. That is, he did so until Feln delivered an eagle-claw-strike to the back of the man's head. The Plaguebringer reeled forward from the impact and turned his scathing gaze on the now-visible Feln instead.

Huzair tossed back his potion with a quick jerk perfected in the drinking halls of Farmin where he was known as 'Black-Smoke-Who-Drinks-Like-Dwarf'.



Lela had been lurking above the door, standing, undetected on the door frame. As soon as Feln did his thing, she finished doing hers and cloaked herself in Barkskin. Then she darted under lintel, readying a generous fistful of Dust of Confusion to deliver to the enemies massed against the doorframe.



Morier moved forward to fight at Karak's side muttering the words to a True Strike spell as he came. As soon as he got close he saw the skeletal warrior finally raise his mace against them. It struck Karak like a sledge and clipped Morier on the follow-through. The mace barely touched him, but even so, the elf felt a numbness fill his body, sapping him of both strength and nimbleness as it drove him to the depths of exhaustion.



"Quick! Can your healing travel through this spell?" Ledare shouted at Hildegunna as the Janissary again slammed the pommel of her bastard sword uselessly against the bubble of force blocking the doorway. "The others need your help more than I." The priestess shook her head grimly.

"I must lay hands on them to confer My Lady's blessing," she said. "If you can breach the sphere..." Now it was Ledare's turn to shake her head.

"I've been trying," she confessed. "It's no good. Do you have any spells that can get us out of here?"

"No," Hildegunna said simply prompting a frenzied assault on the wall from Ledare. Ravager chewed ugly grooves in the panelling, but the Janissary quickly realized that it would take far too long to hack through the wall. Time that the others' clearly didn't have. She watched through the Resilient Sphere, feeling more helpless than she had in a very long time. Not since the Chagmat...

"Stay in the present!" she commanded herself through gritted teeth, unwilling to let her mind draw her back there. She turned and took in the room with a glance. The window was large enough to let her and Hildegunna escape.

"I'm going out the window. Can you follow me?" Ledare asked the tall woman, mindful of her injuries. With some effort Hildegunna swallowed back some blood and nodded. "Then grab a cloak or something to disguise yourself. We're getting out of here!"



"An ogre!" the Plaguebringer hissed up at Feln, his voice dripping with surprise. "Time to feel my lady's touch!" He spoke a few words in a dark language and reached a hand out toward the half-ogre. That's all the farther he got, however, before Feln's own long arm snapped outward, slamming opportunistically into the man's forehead with all the power of a battering ram. Momentarily stunned by the blow, the cleric staggered backward, his concentration shattered.

There was a cascading pop-p-pop-popping sound as his Inflict Critical Wounds spell went awry. Unbridled by the Plaguebringer's intent, the miscast spell energy manifested as a burst of burning black flames that filled the corridor as far as the Resilient Sphere and spread out into the area beyond the door. [1]

Inexplicably, Feln managed to evade the spell energy entirely, twisting and turning his body to avoid the tongues of fire. Huzair relied on his innate resistance to fire to protect him from harm, but nonetheless made an effort to dodge the worst of the effect. He wasn't as quick as the half-ogre, however, and found himself burned badly by the divine manifestation.

The Plaguebringer, caught dead center of the fiery blast, was killed instantly by the explosion, his diseased flesh burned to a blackened crust by the licking ebon flames. He screamed briefly and collapsed in a smoking heap.

Neither Huzair nor Feln were in any position to see what occurred in the hall beyond the doorway, but they heard plenty of screams coming through the opening as the flames blossomed into the space beyond. Unfortunately, Lela was in such a position, and one of those screams was hers. She was flying over the heads of the half-dozen-or-so enemies crowding around the doorway when the black fireball exploded. And she saw the flames envelop all of them in its dark embrace and instant before they slammed into her cruelly. Her Barkskin did nothing to protect her from the searing heat and she cried out in pain at their touch.



Karak felt... diminished by the hit he'd taken from that black mace. It had stolen something from him - lifeforce, perhaps, or vitality. Who knew? And more over, who cared? In the grips of his rage, all Karak truly cared about was hacking into little pieces this creature of the pits. And his beloved waraxe - crafted with his own hands in the forges of Dwurheim - sadly wasn't up to task.

He dropped the weapon and drew again the longsword he'd taken off Sir Brin's body. And then, gripping the blade with both hands, he swung it at the skeletal thing, hewing deeply into its left thigh. The monster grunted in pain and regarded the dwarf with renewed hatred.

"Once I've properly shaved it, thy skin will make a fine pillow for my feet, dwarf!" the undead creature taunted. Karak, barely heard him, so happy was he to see that the sword wound didn't close as soon as he withdrew his weapon.



"Incensio Terum!" Huzair intoned, sending a sheet of his own fire into the midst of the still smoking warriors crowded in the doorway. The way they were bunched up, only three of them were positioned to be damaged by his spell, but of those three, two of them fell to the ground screaming as the flesh was literally cooked off their bodies by the wizard's magic. The third man's clothing was caught on fire by the spell, and he shrieked in fear as the flames licked up his body.

Feln ended the man's plaintive cries with a fist to the chest that dropped him in his tracks. Huzair winced at the audible sound of breaking bones as the blow struck home.



"This is for Wolf, you slimeballs," Lela whispered as she sprinkled her handful of dust over the crowd, taking heart when most of those left standing did little other than that. They stood. And blinked their eyes in confusion.

Satisfied with her performance thus far, the faen landed on a bench set against the opposite wall of the great hall and nearly crumpled. She had been brought to the very brink of unconsciousness by the explosion and the Plaguebringer's miscast spell. If she didn't heal herself, she'd not be long for this world.



On the opposite end of the corridor, Morier knew that he was not long for this world. He was reeling from the glancing blow of the dead thing's mace and again, he glanced around the room looking for the fastest way out: a window... a door... Distantly, he recognized the cries of his fellow party members through the walls, and could plainly see Karak's grimace at the sound pounding he had just taken. But the dwarf was still fighting; seemingly prepared to trade swordblow for macestrike with the ghastly horror despite the fact that it was clearly Karak who would be on the losing end of such a deal.

Even the dwarf's new sword was no match for that huge black mace.

"The mace..." Morier thought to himself... "that thing will kill everybody."

He steeled his determination, knowing full well that he had to do it. It was risky, but it might full-well save lives. He'd need some help from the gods to make it work, but it was a risk he needed to take. And so he lunged, bringing his greatsword up as quickly as he could (which was not very quickly at all given that the blade seemed to weigh three times what it did before he'd been struck by his opponent's strength-sapping weapon) and ducked beneath an opportunistic swing from the skeletal warrior.

It was a difficult maneuver under the best of circumstances, made more difficult still due to the albino's weakness. But the gods, it seemed, had indeed seen fit to aid the endeavor and between their help and the True Strike spell that Morier had already cast, he made a difficult maneuver look easy. The point of the silvered sword caught amidst his opponent's fingers, slid up and between them, forcing the skeleton's grip away from the mace's haft. Morier drove his weight against his sword's hilt, twisting the quillons and sending the black mace flying through the air. It tumbled end over end and landed behind Karak, some ten feet from the undead thing's grasp. [2]

"Waaargh!!!" the undead creature roared, its eyes flaring with cold fire. "That mace was given me by Melangar himself, worm! But I was a potent force for Lady Death long before that time. My power is more than a match for your feeble efforts!" And saying thus, it reached out and touched Morier's shoulder. Just touched him; that's all.

And the elf felt negative energy course into his body as more of his life drained away.


------------------------


[1] Thank you, Ronin Arts' "Lost Spells". A great resource for spell failure. Not all are this spectacular, but all add a level of cool to magic that "The spell fizzles" seems to lack.

[2] Natural 20 on the Disarm check! Despite the fact that a) you can't critical a Disarm and b) even if you could, Undead can't be criticalled, I ruled that such a fantabulous roll (remember he had True Strike going, too) resulted in the weapon flying randomly out of Blackheart's square. I treated it like a grenade-like weapon miss.

 

[Hairy Minotaur]

it reached out and touched Morier's shoulder. Just touched him; that's all.

And the elf felt negative energy course into his body as more of his life drained away.

Ow! Safety word, safety word!

 

[Funeris]

By the gods, Jon. I've been away from your story hour, what a couple months at most? And I come back to fantastic after fantastic update. Absolutely amazing. You make me worry for your characters...the description of the Plaguebringer was great.

Now that I'm done kissing booty, a couple questions...

1. Is Hothead...I mean...Hotair...I mean Huzair actually Vade's player? There seems to me to be a similarity between Huzair's ability to grate on the integrety of the party as compared to a certain ranger the party once traveled (albeit briefly) with. If this is Vade's player, which is my best guess, then was that ranger a PC or NPC. I can't for the life of me remember.

2. Is your wife enjoying her new character? It certainly comes across that way...and I'm enjoying the faen as well. I think she fits much better with the party than Ixin did. Just my opinion though. I think the loquacious aspect of the character must fulfill the chatty-role that was left vacant with poor Vade's demise. Perhaps that predisposes me to enjoy the character...dunno.

Alright...enough blathering from me. Good job on the updates. Excellent writing. And I'm truly waiting on the edge of my seat for more.

~Fune

 

[Jon Potter]

By the gods, Jon. I've been away from your story hour, what a couple months at most? And I come back to fantastic after fantastic update. Absolutely amazing.

Well, I make it a point of posting at least once a week. Two months away makes a minimum of 8 updates.

You make me worry for your characters...the description of the Plaguebringer was great.

My goal is to make the players worry, but I'll take what I can get.

I'm glad you like Callethorne (the Plaguebringer). Too bad he didn't survive longer...

1. Is Hothead...I mean...Hotair...I mean Huzair actually Vade's player?

Yep. Exactly right.

If this is Vade's player, which is my best guess, then was that ranger a PC or NPC. I can't for the life of me remember.

That depends... Do you mean Grisham or Windstryder? Grisham was an NPC, Windstryder was a PC.

2. Is your wife enjoying her new character? It certainly comes across that way...and I'm enjoying the faen as well. I think she fits much better with the party than Ixin did. Just my opinion though. I think the loquacious aspect of the character must fulfill the chatty-role that was left vacant with poor Vade's demise. Perhaps that predisposes me to enjoy the character...dunno.

Thankfully, she seems to be. I think she enjoys each successive character a little more than the previous (Lela better than Ixin and Ixin better that Kirnoth). It'd be more than a tad unfun for me around the house if she kept pining for characters that I've killed off.

Alright...enough blathering from me. Good job on the updates. Excellent writing. And I'm truly waiting on the edge of my seat for more.

You picked a very exciting time to jump back in. There are some major changes in party dynamic upcoming. Actually, how about I just post another update later today to 'celebrate' your return to the SH.

And it's a doozy!

 

[Funeris]

Hey, you wanna 'celebrate' my return, don't let me stop you

Yeah, I think I meant Grisham...we was a pain in the ass, right? Good to know that was you

~Fune

 

[Jon Potter]

[Realms #321] A Dark Day

Hoping to draw the thing's attention away from Morier, Karak kept at the skeletal warrior's flank, slamming his enchanted longsword against his opponent's legs, but it was no use. Even with a magical blade, the undead thing's armor was thick and not easily pierced, and Karak's inexperience with a longsword showed in his ineffective attacks.



Feln barely waited for the body in front of him to fall to the ground before he stepped over it and squeezed his bulk through the doorway. To his left was a spellcaster of some sort - probably a priest judging by the vulgar symbol of Aphyx hanging around her neck - to his right was a man with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other who regarded him with evil intent. Arrayed beyond them were three others: one woman who merely stared blankly as if unsure where she was and two men armed with the familiar sword and dagger combination favored by so many warriors they'd faced in Miller's Pond. There was no sign of Lela, and a finger of fear touched Feln's heart. In a dark corner of his mind he allowed himself to picture the little sprite washed in a wave of flame and burned away to nothing... He actually had to shake his head to remove the image from his mind's eye and get himself back to the task at hand.

Spellcasters were unpredictable, Feln knew, but he judged at a glance that the opponent on his right was the greater immediate threat. The cleric began to call on divine aid and the half-ogre took the opportunity to punch her in the chest. She sagged under the blow as the wind was driven violently from her lungs. Instantly, the hall darkened as the candles and lamps set along the walls tried and failed to compete with the evil shadows that suddenly grew in the spaces between. From them leered grotesque faces ravaged by plague; unwholesome limbs that were riddled with disease reached outward menacingly. Behind it all, stood a woman who was both beautiful and horrible with piercing red eyes, enormous leathery wings and a rat's tail and claws. She groaned in displeasure and black corruption spilled from her lips and drooled down her naked torso. [1]

Of those who beheld the horrible vision, only Feln and one of the warriors near the back had the presence of mind to look away. Huzair, Lela and all the enemies in the hall were stunned by the horrible glimpse of Aphyx.

Under the circumstances, Feln reconsidered his earlier assessment and decided to kill the spellcaster first. She went down with her head hanging at an impossible angle.



Morier took the momentary distraction offered by Karak's attack to step away from the undead thing and imbue himself with Bull's Strength. The power filled him, making his muscles distend with strength, but even so, it was not enough to fully offset what had been stolen by that initial blow from the mace.

"Thou shouldst have stayed in thy borrow beneath the mountains, dwarf," the skeleton was saying. "This land will once again be my Lady's realm and all the folk in it will be as cattle before the slaughter!" He reached down and brushed his withered hand along Karak's arm, draining a bit of the dwarf's life away.

Karak tried to retaliate, but again his blows were frustrated by his opponent's armor.



The one warrior who had resisted the stunning effects of the divine image staggered forward, shaken but still intent on dispatching Feln if he could. Unfortunately, the half-ogre's reach allowed him to strike the man before he could even get within sword range. He fell to the floor, knocked unconscious by the blow.

"Wizard, can you fight on?" the half-ogre called to Huzair. "Tend to that bubble! I'll let you know if anyone is coming." There was no response from the mage, and Feln turned toward the swordsman on his right, kicking the stunned man fiercely in the crotch. It was enough to make the warrior double over in pain, but not enough to drop him. He blinked his eyes as if trying unsuccessfully to return himself to the fight.



Morier moved reluctantly into a flanking position. He was injured, but Karak was dead if Morier fled. "We could use a little help here!" he shouted as he swung his greatsword at the monster's back. It rebounded harmlessly from the heavy plate armor.

"There is no help for thee here," the skeleton taunted, "only death at my hand and an eternity as my slave!" He brushed his hand almost lovingly against the albino's cheek and Morier felt an icy tug as more of his soul was burned away by the negative energy that coursed through the undead thing.

He cried out in despair, and it was answered by a battle cry from across the room as Ledare charged in from the side door with Ravager held high. She brought the black sword down mightily onto the skeleton's shoulder, and the saw-toothed blade bit through the armor there. The undead warrior shrieked in pain.

Heartened by the arrival of aid, Karak swung his own sword once! Twice! Opening two additional rents in the creature's armor and hewing into the bones beneath. The thing swayed unsteadily on its feet, clearly injured by the VQS' assault.

"Begone! Blasphemous pit spawn! Your presence is an affront to Flor!" Hildegunna said from the doorway, her holy symbol held firmly in one bloodied hand. Despite the fact that she could barely stand, she pulsed with power as she called on her goddess' divine hand to turn the mockery of life.

It had absolutely no effect and the undead thing began to laugh.



Huzair recovered from the stunning glimpse into Aphyx's realm and immediately began casting a spell. "Magicus telum!" he intoned and pointed at one of the warrior's visible through the doorway. Two ruddy missiles of pure force arced from his finger, evaded Feln and sizzled into his chosen target's chest.

Lela recovered at almost the same moment and imbued herself with some much-needed healing energy, easing the pains of the burns she'd suffered. Spotting the glow of divine energy, Feln smiled. Then he snapped the neck of the man to his right.

"Little Sprite!" he called as a simple mantis kick downed the combatant that Huzair had just injured. "Are you okay?"

"I'm hurt," she confessed. "But I'll live."

It might be better for you to withdraw now," the half-ogre suggested. "I cannot stand to lose another comrade!"

Unfortunately for Feln, the choice was out of his hands.



Morier again slammed his sword against the undead thing's back, but again his sword did nothing to it, but cause a dent that healed as soon as the blade was withdrawn.

"Thou may have beaten me, Florian!" the skeleton seemed to sneer at Ledare. "But there is no victory for thee here! Only death! Even in defeat I strike at thee!" It gestured and a blast of abyssal fire detonated in front of Ledare, filling the room with unholy fire.



It wasn't Karak's destiny to be immolated by the devastating fireball, and Shaharizod's hand guided him to a place protected from the blast. He dived behind the undead creature and found safety in its shadow; once the instantaneous ball of fire disappeared, he stood miraculously unhurt behind the charred remains of the death knight.

No one else faired as well. Ledare and Morier had both fallen and weren't moving. Hildegunna had been reduced to a pile of smoldering ash.


--------------------------


[1]Another of the Ronin Arts "Lost Spell" effects.

 

[Funeris]

Beautiful.



~Fune