NOW LIVE! Today's the day you meet your new best friend. You don’t have to leave Wolfy behind... In 'Pets & Sidekicks' your companions level up with you!

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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 662543" data-attributes="member: 143">Well, not as killer as next week's is going to be (let's just say we're building to a dramatic confrontation), <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f609.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=";)" title="Wink    ;)"  data-smilie="2"data-shortname=";)" /> but today we get another look at Delem:* * * * * Book VII, Part 43Within the cavernous chamber hidden deep within the fastness of the Sunset Mountains, Delem rose and with an effort walked forward away from the now-closed Portal.  He wore only a set of tight-fitting trousers that seemed fashioned from the hide of some alien beast, with a small pouch belted at his waist.  A small amulet of dull black metal hung at his throat from a throng strapped so tightly that it looked as though it might already be choking off his supply of air.  His only other possession was the ungainly weapon he bore, a short staff of gray metal topped at each end by an oblong disk of the same substance.  A faint buzz, like the sound of a small horde of angry bees, seemed to come from the weapon, but it might have just been a trick of acoustics underground.    The flaming demon turned to face the sorcerer.  “Give me the Seeking Stone,” it said, its voice hissing like the sound of steam coming from a lidded kettle.“I am in command here, palrethee.  You forget so easily the commands of your Master?”“We are no longer in the Abyss, manling, and do not think that the stolen skin you wear gives you the right to direct me.  I have existed for aeons, and the sum of your puny human existence is merely a drop in the wellspring of what I am.”The man looked upon the demon with a look of contempt.  “Ah, yes.  I know you palrethee hold exalted airs upon your mighty ‘status.’  Did you once stride the planes of the Abyss as a mighty balor?  Whom did you anger, demon, to earn the lowly skin you now wear?  For mark me, the reason you were chosen for this mission was because a greater demon could not penetrate the temporary rift in the Portal.”The palrethee hissed in fury, and came forward a step, its clawed hands coming up threateningly.  But before it could come any closer Delem spoke a phrase of magic, and a lance of pure magical energy erupted from his hand, a spear of liquid flame that extended in an instant from his fist to a few inches before the demon’s chin.  “You have learned little indeed, if you think that your petty flames can threaten me,” the demon warned. Delem shrugged, and with a flick of his wrist the head of the thunderlance sliced to the right, its tip catching the demon’s shoulder with a cut that drew a line of steaming ichor from a shallow gash in its flesh.  The demon jerked back in sudden pain, but it quickly recovered, fixing the sorcerer with hate in its eyes.  “Know this, demon,” the man said, and his voice was deep with power.  “After I was raised to the Skin I was sent for my final training to the battlefields of the Blood War.  I know how to hurt fiends, and if you challenge me again, I will see that your next incarnation is in a more appropriate form.  A dretch, perhaps.”The palrethee shot a glance at its fellow demon, but the shorter creature merely watched the confrontation with an intense look in its eyes, clicking its claws together.  Finally it turned its gaze back to Delem.  “We serve the same Master,” it said.  “I follow his commands.”Delem flicked his hand again and the fire-lance vanished.  “Go above, and scout out the area above.  Do not reveal yourself to anyone present, but report back to me.”The demons departed, leaving the sorcerer alone in the same quasi-darkness that he’d often encountered in the Abyss; a blackness that was deeper than night and yet which his eyes could somehow penetrate in a form of weird shadow-vision.  It was disconcerting, with everything he saw taking on a sort of unreality, as if solid things were about to flow into the outlines of something completely different.  The effect could make your head spin if you weren’t used to it, and even though Delem had adapted to much worse he still called forth a dancing lights cantrip to shed a more natural illumination around him.  The light from the hovering wisps of flame was weaker than usual, as if the darkness resisted this encroachment upon its domain.  He did not allow himself to relax even once the demons had departed.  He could not afford to show weakness now.  The transition between planes had disoriented him more than he had expected, leaving him vulnerable enough for the palrethee to attempt its unsubtle attempt to seize leadership from him.  He regretted the encounter not for what it was—it had been necessary to humble the demon, after it had threatened him—but for the fact that now he would have to redouble his vigilance.  Demons were not quick to forgive a slight, real or imagined.  That part of his body that was still human protested as he started across the room.   Fortunately, he had a great deal of experience in ignoring such minor annoyances as mere physical pain.  He’d forgotten how cold it could be here, however; in the fiery pits of Gehenna, on the eternal battlefields of the Blood War, it was always hot.  Blistering hot, a heat that got inside your bones and threatened to boil away any shred of feeling you might still have within you. He would have to secure garments.    His steps took him near the summoning circle, and the ring of corpses lying there.  Delem looked at them without regard.  He did not know who they had been, or how or why they had facilitated his coming here, and he did not care.  He started toward the nearest, a dark figure clad in a warm-looking cloak, but stopped as he caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye.  Wary, he spun into a defensive posture, bringing up the kabbak-johr with reflexes that had been honed by an interminable time of vulnerability and torment within the demon-realms of the Abyss.  One of the corpses had shifted.  He almost thought he had imagined it, when suddenly they all started to move, twitching until they gained enough energy to straighten contorted limbs and awkwardly lift themselves to their feet.  Delem’s mouth twisted in disgust.  He had long since lost his touch to Kossuth, in fact could barely remember what it had felt like to channel divine power.  But even as a fallen cleric he could still recognize the undead.  Even as the first of the undead creatures—a human, different than the others—turned toward him, he lowered one hand from his weapon and called upon his magic.  A small globe of eager flames erupted in his palm, ready to blast these abominations back into the depths from which they had sprung.  The former man, its features gaunt and sunken, stared at him with eyes that were haunted dots of feral red light.  It showed no reaction to the flames that the sorcerer held ready, but its jaw fell open, and words issued from a throat that no longer breathed mortal air.  Delem recognized the words all too well as the desperate sounds of a soul in torment.  “We... serve...”</blockquote>

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