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Message: <blockquote data-quote="(contact)" data-source="post: 1290591" data-attributes="member: 41">100—Dead women tell no lies.Thelbar lashes a sonic-substituted chain lighting spell through the alleyway.  It roars and arcs from wall to woman to ground and back to woman again; Hale ignores the spell, her inherent drow resistance to magic protecting her from the waves of sound.  But she cannot evade the two sonic fireballs that rattle flesh from bone.Nathè is also slammed by the waves of crushing sound, as she and Hale stand near to one another at the back end of the alleyway.  They menace Taran, Gorquen, and Ilwe, and as the echoes fade, weapons are leveled, and a general melee erupts.  Gorquen and Taran fight back to back, swords whirling (the sharpened stick having been tucked away for the moment), while Ilwe moves behind them and sends arrows whirring into the brawl.  Elgin and Thelbar are further away from the fighting, closer to the mid-point of the alley, and as Elgin begins to move toward the dilapidated warehouse that forms the alley’s terminus and Irae T’sarrion’s cover, the cruel priestess is joined by four foul giants that emerge from behind her and form a skirmish-line.  The creatures are nine foot tall walking corpses, patchwork creatures built with crudely stitched gangrenous body parts, mouths and eyes permanently closed with looping bands of metal wire that pierce the skin.  Piecemeal armor is likewise stitched and bolted onto bare skin, giving the foul things a martial aspect.Elgin calls to the dawn, and with a gesture, has mass healed the entire battle.  While the wounds of his friends are yet minor, the effect on his undead opponents is not.   The giants shudder and wither, the drow women likewise scalded by the positive energy burst.Taran and Gorquen respond to this development by charging in unison, as if through some unspoken agreement, to fly into the faces of these giants menacing the spellcasters.  The creatures are large, and undoubtedly strong, but they are too slow to evade the frenetic swordsmen.  In a matter of seconds, all four of the creatures are rendered into piles of inanimate flesh.Irae T’sarrion scowls at this development and raises her hands above her head.  She intones a spell, and suddenly, the perpetual half-light of Sigil’s “day” is gone.  Within the alleyway, all good creatures are blinded by an impeneatrable darkness—entities of wicked intent retain their sight, allowing the three drow an advantage.  Hale cuts Ilwe with her polearm, and Nathè finally gives her emotional relationship with Taran its physical expression, point-first into his chest.“Submerse your souls within the truth of my words!”  A new voice is heard, feminine and bold, speaking common with a drowish accent.  “Your goddess is gone, slain by our mutual enemies.  Give over to reason now, reckless slayers, you beautiful givers of death.  A corpse can have no champion in life; Her memory demands revenge!  Join with Tenebrous, and let us show you what grace lives on when life is purged.  Together we will destroy those who have opposed us, and lay their souls at the feet of our Lord!”Elgin’s response to this speech is to invoke a greater dispelling, and remove the utterdark surrounding the Champions.  As his vision returns, he sees a dark-elf woman levitating thirty feet in the air almost directly above him.  Taran and Thelbar recognize her as the eldest daughter of Mother Banare—the wizardess Bladen Kurst.Thelbar replies to her entreaty with a prismatic spray, followed by a quickened disintegrate.  Bladen Kurst disappears in a puff of dust, her unfinished curse fading into nothing.  Ilwe speaks a holy word of his own, blinding Nathè, and heartening his allies.  Gorquen seizes the opening and takes Nathè behind the knees with a scything strike.  Nathè strikes the ground hard, the back of her head impacting into the alleyway with an audible crack, followed instantly by a series of sharp popping sounds as Taran runs both of his weapons through her chain shirt, provoking a cry born more of frustration than pain.Under cover of darkness, Hale had maneuvered to a position behind Ilwe, and even as Nathè is cursing her former lover, she strikes Ilwe three times about the shoulders and back, staggering the elven priest and opening mortal wounds.  But he does not die—as Ilwe’s arterial blood sprays across the alley, Elgin Trezler sends another mass heal through the fight.  The energy knits bones and closes cuts-- Ilwe’s wounds disappear, and his foe shudders and gasps.  Hale is gravely hurt, but Nathè cannot survive the spell—her undead body collapses upon itself, and her swords fall from her limp hands.Gorquen turns to charge Irae T'ssarion, only to find that the spectral cleric has appeared right by her side!  Gorquen swings from her heels and sends a crushing blow shuddering home into the drow’s torso.  Irae takes the shot and places her palm on Gorquen’s chest, just above her heart.  Gorquen gasps and becomes semi-translucent for a moment, her blood vessels visible beneath her skin.   She feels a section of her soul torn from her body, and cast into the ethers.“Does my Master’s kiss please you, Alushair?” Irae T’ssarion whispers.  “Would you like me to take you home to him?”“I’ll send you home,” Gorquen replies, her bravado masking the sudden weariness that overcomes her.  Taran whirls on Irae T’ssarion, and backs her away with his weapons.Hale considers her position, perhaps reasoning that as goes Nathè, so goes the fight—she has avoided the worst of the spell-barrage, but is still grievously hurt.  She has nearly killed a foe only to see him restored by the same spell that nearly kills her—Hale is no fanatic.  Reasoning that ‘she who runs away stays dead another day.’  Hale takes to the air, abandoning the fight.Irae T’ssarion is a fanatic however, and has clearly sacrificed herself for the chance to kill a part of Gorquen’s soul, and send a message.  Staring down the blood-groove of no less than three expertly wielded swords, Irae says a quick prayer, and smiles knowingly.  Gorquen strikes low, and Taran hesitates, timing his own maneuvers to begin as soon as Gorquen’s end.  Taran lashes Irae across the torso and face, sinking Arunshee’s Kiss into her chest then releasing it, drawing the skewer from his belt with the same movement, and finally burying it in the undead cleric’s eye with a laugh.As Irae T’ssarion collapses to the ground, Taran turns to Gorquen with a mischievous glint in his eye.  He seems about so say something clever (as far as Taran’s wit goes, of course, likely involving violence or sex), but his expression turns grave when he sees the pallor of Gorquen’s skin, and he reaches out his empty hand to steady his wobbling companion.Elgin Trezeler points his hands at Hale, and before she can fly over the nearby rooftops and away, he sends a pair of searing light rays into her back.  Hale bursts into flame, and with a screech, she spins to the ground and is still. As soon as Hale strikes the cobblestone, Ilwe is by Gorquen’s side.  He takes her hands in his own and kisses them tenderly.  “Foul necromancy,” he states.  “I can recover what is lost, my love, but it will take time.”  “Yeah,” Taran says, nudging Nathè’s body with his boot.  “I don’t feel like going to the Abyss today anyway.”</blockquote>

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