I know it'll have some spelling errors and grammatical issues but I'm mostly looking for feedback on writing style and possible improvements to it. Things to work on as a writer, not on this story.
Keep in mind though, I wrote this over the course of a week and when I was half asleep. . . sweatdrop
Deteriorating Circumstances
A dark and gloomy night, three figures stood in front of a monstrous structure jutting from the earth like an ogre's tooth. Thunder crashed in the background though no rain had fallen, yet, and one of the figures jumped at the sudden intrusion of sound. Two of their number were missing, Braden the sorcerer and Kitais the rogue. That was why they were here, standing out front of this tower, waiting for Kitais to finish disarming that magical trap on the door so he could begin working on the lock before the rain hit.
Too late. . .
No small drops to act as warning shots, or test the fall, a deluge of slashing rain swept through the foothills and scraggly trees, propelled forth by a wind which announced its arrival by blowing the druid from her feet. "This stinks like havin' ta use a broken grindstone." The other two heard from Dannok, the dwarven warrior as he planted his feet against the wind and crossed his arms over his chest, his cloak whipping about and throwing water back into the wind.
"We cannae leave him behind Dannok, even with yer distrust of magic ye've got t'admit Braden's saved yer life enough times with his." The last member of the group, another dwarf who looked much like the first, reached down and lifted the druid to her feet where he wrapped a strong fist about her arm to hold her steady. "We've got t'get in an' fight for him like ye know he'd do for us."
Kitais made a sudden triumphant sound and tossed a small object off into the wind. When it finally impacted with a tree the whole thing blew apart from a blast of lightning which originated at the impact point, and the other members cringed. "I wish he would stop doing that." Liathi remarked, patting Gollon on the arm as thanks for keeping her from blowing away like the trap. A few seconds later, Kitais flashed his lightstone and the three trudged through the boot-sucking mud to where he huddled against the door.
"Nice of you to keep Liathi warm and safe, how about holding the halfling when he's trying to get rid of a minor annoyance?" Kitais quipped as the dwarves and elf made their way up the hill. He knew they wouldn't do that, no sense in having two of their number cut down by the trap, Gollon would be out of prayers before they even reached the one responsible for their current endeavor. Still, it was his joking and antics that often kept the morale up, so with a grin he patted his lap and invited Liathi to secure herself in his nook while the dwarf brothers opened the door.
Kitais always took opportunities to get near the elf, not out of desire, but mere playful attitude. The viper in her sleeve had taught him the boundaries long before, but risk was half the fun, and getting nursed back to health from Sissi's venom made failure tolerable if not downright enjoyable at times. Rolling her eyes, Liathi curled up in the nook and petted her sleeve as a reminder. The brothers, stout and strong as their kind are renowned for, began the arduous process of dragging the windblown doors open while sliding in the mud.
Dwarven strength, perseverance, and knowledge of architecture went to work, with the two dwarves gradually sliding the doors open enough for their thinner companions to slip through. Once inside, Liathi helped the brothers open a single door wide enough for them to slip in, and Kitais spiked it open, dashing over to help Liathi hold the door while Gollon, the weaker of the two dwarves, worked his way inside. With the sturdy dwarf bolstering the spikes, Dannok was able to leave his position and enter the mad wizard's tower as well, shaking like a dog and throwing his cloak to the ground in irritation.
"Every blasted step o' the way!" He bellowed after the door spikes caved to pressure and shot down the hall with a chorus of pings. The tower reverberated with the announcement of the great portal's closure. "First Braden gets 'is fool arse kidnapped when we've got but a week's travel ahead o' us. Then that bloody nag ye convinced us t' rescue from the farmer, which cost us half a week's food in coin I might add, cankered on the side o' the road! And now this storm which, I've got ta say reminds me of that gnome's blasted sneeze machine, just has to creep up an' lock us out for a good half'n hour!"
Liathi walked calmly over to the sour dwarf and patted him on the cheek. "And your blustering about in the entryway isn't making any progress either Punkin'." Dannok fumed at her pet name for him, granted when one of Braden's spells went awry and turned the dwarf (and everything around him) orange. Kitais and Gollon were chuckling in the background as they repacked their belongings, considering everything had become rather waterlogged and disheveled during the storm. One by one, pieces of equipment were tossed from the packs in front of their respective owners.
Kitais picked and prodded at the opening to a small, waterproof, wooden box. As the hidden trap disarmed itself and the tumblers clicked he lifted the lid reverently. Leathers were folded in the base, and various high quality tools of his trade were slid into a secret compartment in the lid. Stripping off his mud-caked travel leathers and soaking wet clothes, he dressed himself in loose blood colored clothing which he mostly hid beneath the black leather of his armor. As usual, Liathi's nose turned up at the ensemble.
"How can you wear such things?" She asked. "The colors really don't suit you."
Winking in response, the halfling backed out of the light and seemed to disappear into the shadows. "Because in some light, red is harder to see than black." His voice came from farther down the hall than she had expected him to be. "Going all black would not only be a horrible wardrobe choice, but it would have stopped me from earning my nickname."
"You're impossible." She returned as he sauntered out of hiding with a self-satisfied expression.
Gollon slung a crossbow over his back, cleaned his shield straps, and made sure his armor was tight. He then sat down and began cataloguing his available miscellaneous weaponry. "Alchemist's fire, caltrops, sling, thunderstones, throwing hammer, branch, bag of mud, rock, bandage, and sock." Dannok stared at him, incredulous, and shook his head.
"An' what're ye plannin' to do with even half o' that?" He demanded with a scowl, disapproving of his brother's eccentric manner of approaching combat. Gollon raised each item as he explained its purpose.
"Y'see brother, a mage don't concentrate so well when yer pokin' him in the rump or swattin' him in the face, so a branch is useful for that. I can always break the tip off and stab 'im too, if worse comes to worst. Ye can blind someone with mud, brainin' 'em with a rock is effective, as a last resort, and good for crushin' fingers too. And If'n ye immobilize 'im, I can gag 'im with the sock and bandage."
Dannok 'humphed' and started sharpening his waraxe, that being the most preparation he ever seemed to put into a battle. Liathi was also light on the preparation, making sure she had her spell components, tightening her armor and boots, and playing with Sissi while waiting for the two remaining to finish their preparation.
"You know," she began. "The doors made that loud noise a couple of minutes ago, I'd be surprised if your actions haven't given our enemy time to prepare already." Dannok 'humphed' again and hefted his axe, as if that was all the answer she would need.
Kitais was buckling a bandoleer of darts on and Gollon stood up, his preparations complete. "It doesn't matter." The rogue replied without his usual humor. "I set off the alarm trap long before I started working on the lightning one. He's known we were here since before that storm hit." Testing each dart, making sure none caught on anything as they were drawn and reinserted, he continued his preparations. "Therefore," he continued. "I am going to prepare myself as absolutely best I can before he gets bored and comes looking for me. After all," he said with a grin, extending his arms to show off his attire. "Nobody wants to leave their house undefended against The Nightblood for long."
Liathi graced him with an affectionate smile, grateful to have the egocentric halfling along on many of their adventures. Shouldering their packs, ready to drop them and fight if need be, the companions began their exploration of the tower. The first room they entered was coated in dust, it seemed untouched for centuries, not a single footprint marred the surface until they began to cross.
"A king's ransom going to waste. . ." Kitais breathed as his eyes roamed everywhere, taking in the shining baubles and crystal adornments that sat on shelves, hung from chandeliers, and were generally ignored under so many years of dust. However, much as he wanted to loot the place, Braden did come first. Not that his internal reasoning would have seemed very sound to Gollon who took the rear, passing by this or that clean spot where a wine glass or jewelry box had sat just moments before.
To the left of the entryway stood a solid oaken door. Across from the entry, in the western corner of the south wall, a staircase disappeared up above them. In the eastern corner a second stair disappeared down, and to their right, in the east wall, another oak door sat slightly ajar, all dark within. Raising his hand to keep the others back, Kitais scampered across the room, mostly on or under furniture, and examined the slightly open door. Once his examination was complete, he took a less expeditious route back through the room, giving it a cursory examination for traps. "I'm guessing he expected most people to get fried at the door," he stated, excited despite the danger. "But then, he wasn't expecting me."
Gollon gestured over to the other door while Dannok and Liathi moved to examine the room beyond the one which stood ajar. A soft click told them that Kitais had discovered a trap, the lock soon opened though the door remained shut. Kitais knew better than to explore on his own, so he and Gollon rejoined the other two in what appeared to be a kitchen. Dust covered everything, and what wasn't dusty was covered in mold, the room reeked of it. Along one wall, where the stove was it seemed, mold grew everywhere. Seeming to originate from a pot on the stove. Creeping over to investigate, they found the skeletal remains of three humanoids lying on the floor, rotted away to bone.
No injury marred their skeletons, no chips, fractures, or other discernable damage. The humidity and mold gave them a fuzzy appearance where the mold grew. Thinking he saw something glitter in the inside of one skull, Kitais reached down to see, and Gollon stamped down on the skeleton's hand, grabbing the halfling by the back of his leathers and tossing him away. A cloud of mold spores erupted from the skeleton's mouth, and a sickly green light flickered to macabre life within its hollow eye sockets.
Screeching in an unearthly voice, the thing sat up and struggled to free its hand for a split second before the cleric's warhammer drove all the way from the crown of its skull through the end of its spine.
The other two skeletons sat up as well, these pulling rusted kitchen utensils from under the dust on the counter, and advanced on the invading party. Liathi swapped her scimitar for her cudgel, brandishing the gnarled chunk of wood expertly. Dannok rushed forward, barreling into one and carrying it to the floor with his weight, chopping once with his axe and sending an arm skittering off to the side. The second advanced on Gollon, but was met by three stout cracks from Liathi's cudgel, driving it backward a couple of steps.
"This one's tough, how'd you get yours so fast?" She shot to Gollon. In response he raised his hammer, a faint glow rapidly fading.
"I called on Moradin an' smote it." He said simply, drawing his throwing hammer and snapping his wrist forward, both exchanging a look as the skeleton took another step backward. "Damned things're tougher'n I gave 'em credit for." He grumbled as he drew his warhammer again. Kitais disappeared, not that he expected to attack the undead from the shadows and be any more effective than his allies, but rather because he knew he would do better waiting for an opportunity than if he tried standing toe-to-toe with one of the moldy beasts. Dannok was growling as the skeleton he fought clawed at his face, and he repeatedly chopped into it with his axe, bone splinters flying up and over the counters.
Kitais crept around the counter and got in front of Dannok, though the dwarf's savage hail of blows upon the mostly inert skeleton prevented him from getting near. As its body deteriorated under the blows, the skeleton began to shudder and shake, and with a final strike to the wildly rolling head it exploded in a cloud of mold spores. Dannok flew backward from the blast, curling into a ball against the wall and coughing madly. Splinters of bone were embedded in his cheeks, and tiny rivulets of blood slid down their lengths, dripping to the floor as the coughs wracked his frame. Seeing the third skeleton advancing toward Liathi and Gollon on shaky legs, each blow seeming to make it less stable, he bolted from cover, flying through the air in a tackle.
"Get down!" He yelled, catching Liathi about the waist, blasting the breath from her lungs. Tumbling over her prone and gasping form, he dropped a cloth over her face and dashed for Gollon.
"Bloody hell?" The dwarf cursed, his vision suddenly covered by a cloth that smelled of leather and damp halfling. A small p***k on his hand caused him to release his warhammer, and as he tried to figure out how the cape was wrapped about his head he heard an inhale of breath, two steps, and an explosion. A lightweight being ran into him with a muffled "oww" and he tore the cape from his head glaring down at Kitais who sat on the floor with one hand bleeding and his pack in his lap.
"The bloody hell'd ye do that for?!" He thundered at the halfling, and Kitais set his pack aside, pointing at Dannok. "Oh muck and sandstone," the cleric cursed as he stomped over to his brother, kicking him in the shin. "Get up ye pansy. Ye've taken bigger fireballs'n that'n kept goin'." Dannok tightened his grip on his waraxe, steeling himself against the coughing, and with a final shudder he stood up. "Go check Liathi, she oughtta have somethin' ye can use to pull them barbs from yer face." Turning away from his brother, Gollon moved back to check on the whimpering Kitais who held his injured hand gingerly.
"Could you just, you know, destroy them with the might of Moradin next time? From a safe distance? Behind a table or something?" Kitais asked with a grin as the dwarf's lips moved with a prayer. The lacerations and puncture wounds that covered his hand slowly closed over, and as his body healed, small mold spores rolled out of the closing wounds like tiny streams of pus.
"Sure thing," the dwarf said, patting him on the shoulder. "Ye just creep on over an' make sure they be the walkin' kind o' dead first."
Kitais, not paying attention to the jest, looked at the spores. "I think those bones were poisonous," the halfling said, wiping his hand clean. "You should fix Dannok up too, once he gets the bones out at least."
Dannok knelt on the floor next to Liathi, carefully pulling bone fragments from his face and hands, while the elf continued to regain her breath. She had been able to find her hand mirror, one of the few items of civilization she enjoyed keeping around, and had lent it to him so he could see where all he was hurt. Every once in a while the dwarf would cough again, still fighting off the effects of the explosion.
"Here now, lets' patch ye up an' get on our merry way." Gollon said before he once again closed his eyes in prayer, and as with Kitais, a plethora of spores rolled out of the dwarf's wounds. "Whatever them things were, I pray to Moradin we don't find more." The cleric muttered when everyone was up and ready again.
Moving back out, across the main hall, the companions examined the room Kitais had unlocked. The room appeared to be a sitting room, a comfortable couch sat in the center of the room, a short table between it and the fireplace. The room seemed almost devoid of dust, a stark contrast to the other two they had been in.
"Must fly or pop about 'is tower like all them other mages." Dannok rumbled, noticing a copious lack of other entrances or exits from the room.
"Or he uses secret passages like that noble in Kalhorest did." Piped in Liathi as she examined the perimeter of the room, stopping in a couple of places to check more thoroughly.
"Though with his power," Kitais remarked from his own side of the room. "I'd imagine he has a localized teleportation matrix set up to be persistent and activate only for him." The dwarves stared at him with blank expressions, and Liathi, too, furrowed her brow as he spoke. "You know, a series of gates that he can open up to go to specific places in his tower whenever he speaks the command word."
"Well why not talk sense the first time?" Dannok growled, his voice tight.
"I did." Kitais mumbled to himself as he kept searching the area, occasionally casting the dwarf a hurt glance. As he searched, he came across a loose sconce in the wall, but was barely too short to reach it.
"Guys?" Liathi called from across the room. "I think I found something. This wall has a crack in it, and. . ." Her speech was halted as the wall began to slide open. Looking around, she saw Kitais staring at the opening with his sword over his head, the sconce leaning to his left. "Oh." She said simply, waving each of them over. "Thanks Kit, that was good timing."
"What? Oh, the sconce? But. . ." His words were cut off as Dannok brushed past, hurried almost, and the others followed suit. "But the door was opening before I touched it." He mumbled to the dark portal, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs and pursuing their fleeting footsteps.
The doorway led into a dark passage, angling downward into the earth, the musty smell of mold and dust permeating the air. Each step kicked up many years worth of the toxic powders, particles and spores met and combined in small eddies, stirred up in the wake of the passing group. Each of the group coughed now and then as the vile cloud reached their lungs. When they finally exited the tunnel, Dannok fell to his hands and knees, coughing as if trying to bring his lungs up. Gollon looked over his hardy brother with concern, noting the pale skin and quivering of his axe hand.
"Are ye alright Dannok?" He asked, offering a hand to the weakened warrior. Coughing once more, the dwarf slapped his brother's hand aside and clambered to his feet.
"Methinks it was the blasted moldy-boned undead thing what's got me so worked up. All the dust in yon tunnel made it affect me again." Dannok straightened his armor, picked up his waraxe, and continued on toward the only new door in sight. Gollon raised a finger and was about to speak when Dannok grabbed the handle and pulled the door open.
"What?" He asked, turning around to find out why he was alone and seeing everyone standing still, his brother about to speak. "Ye thought the blasted thing'd be trapped? Take a risk ye puss." With a 'harumf' he stomped through the door into the next room. Not more than a few seconds later, after wondering what his sudden hurry was, the rest of the troupe followed.
"I always thought Dannok hated Braden," Liathi remarked to Gollon as they followed the increasingly speedy dwarf. "Why is he in such a hurry to rescue him? I'd think of all of us he'd be the one who most wanted to take it slow and careful." Gollon merely shrugged, his short legs pumping to keep up with the long-limbed elf and his frenetic sibling.
"Dannok, hold up." He called, three times before his brother slowed and waited for them, and when the three caught up they could see the fevered gleam in his eyes. "What's yer hurry Dannok? I can tell ye've got somethin' botherin' ye, an' we can all see that this pace be makin' yer coughin' worse. Slow down some, we'll have a better chance o' findin' what we're lookin' for that way."
"No time," the warrior mumbled, looking around nervously and coughing. Suddenly, he turned and started walking briskly down the hall where he'd been going. "We've got t'find him, and it, 'afore it be too late. . ." Only Liathi's keen elven ears picked up what he muttered, though all knew something was wrong with him. Dannok disappeared around the next bend, his seeming insanity lending impetus to his stride, and then they heard it.
"Muck! Back ye splintery sons o' yesterweek's cheese!" A waraxe cracked on bone, and Dannok's unmistakable voice cursed, that was all it took for the rest to change from walking swiftly, to running. Dannok stepped to his left, avoiding a swinging claw from a skeleton that flanked him to the right. Bringing up his shield, he blocked two attempts at clawing him from the initial skeleton he faced, and then had to fight for balance as it grabbed the edges of the shield and began to pull. "Sandstone!" He growled. "Bugger off or me axe'll make' dog bones o' ye!" Quickly dodging again to his left, Dannok barely avoided another swing from the flanking skeleton, its fingers parting his beard and missing his skin by less than the vane of a feather.
"In the name of Moradin, The All-Father, Forger of Souls, I command ye to rest forevermore in the depths o' the earth!" Intoned a powerful voice, Gollon performing his sworn duty. Brandishing his holy symbol, the dwarven cleric stomped down the hall, skeletons melting as the holy aura touched them. "Lay ye down an' forget this tormented existence. May Moradin sever the bonds what hold ye to this realm," marching along Gollon kept up his chant, ending it with his usual mien. "An' let ye stay dead this time ye moldy bastards."
Three of the skeletons still stood when he was done with his march, and without missing a beat, he drew his warhammer and began swinging. Having learned from the previous encounter Liathi and Gollon beat the skeletons until they were about to shatter, then Dannok, saving his strength for his moments, pushed them back where they could explode safely. Kitais' weapons were nearly useless, so he avoided risking melee combat. By the end of the fight Liathi needed healing, where a skeleton had raked its claws along her side, and where another had apparently lost a claw in her back. Kitais used a pair of lock tongs from his toolkit to grasp the offending bone and remove it as Liathi writhed in pain.
"Easy lass," Gollon advised when Kitais was done removing the bone. "This might hurt a smidge, but ye'll feel a lot better once ye get that crud outta ye." Placing his hands over the wounds, he intoned a simple prayer and wiped the spores off when it was complete. Liathi, shaken, pushed herself to her knees and looked at the cleric's pallid brother with a deeper understanding.
"We need to go." She said quietly, subdued, as if her mind was far off. "These abominations are even more a perversion than the normal kind. We need to eliminate the monster that made them, see to it that he doesn't make any more." A shudder coursed through her frame, and her lip curled in a silent snarl, but she was otherwise seemingly calm.
"Dannok," Gollon said as the fighter stood from where he had sat against the wall. "Ye need t'slow down. Keepin' yer eye on the goal is a fine thing, aye, but if ye don't take time to watch yer step, ye'll wind up fallen 'afore ye get there." Dannok nodded, seeming to have reconsidered his earlier haste after walking headlong into the skeletons. "Ye need to take care of yerself."
"And I'll help," said Kitais cheerfully, standing beside the dwarves with his backpack strapped onto his chest. "I'll take Dannok's pack, since I'll be almost useless if we meet more of those skeletons." Not waiting for the dwarf to protest, he swung the pack onto his back with a grunt. "No wonder you guys are so strong," he muttered as he strapped it down. "You carry more than two of me all day long. . ."
Hours passed and they finally stopped to rest, Dannok leaning on his brother as they walked, his axe safely on his belt since it had fallen from nerveless fingers long before. Kitais, still wearing Dannok's pack, fell sideways from Liathi's back, and she too collapsed to the ground. The halfling squirmed out of the straps and crawled over to the druid, running his hand through her thick ruff as she panted for breath.
"Thanks for the ride Lia," he said as she slowly reverted from her lupine form. "That was the best!" Still somewhat weary from carrying the halfling, his pack, and the dwarf's gear, she simply grunted and lay still. They had fought another three groups of the skeletons, and some zombies that were not only immune to the knockback, but seemed to bleed mold when cut. Due to her burden, this had left each fight to the dwarves, and the effort had left Dannok in a very weakened state.
Exhaling her lethargy, Liathi pushed herself to a sitting position and shrugged out of Kitais' backpack. "You're lucky I only have a small amount of personal belongings." She said as she pulled her bag from his pack. "And you have no clue just how heavy you and that equipment are together, trust me." Playfully ruffling the roguish halfling's hair, Liathi slowly staggered over to Gollon's side so she could check on Dannok. Once there, she suddenly laid a hand on the cleric's shoulder and asked them both to be quiet. Her ears perked, the druid looked off down the corridor. After a few moments of silence she took off at a quiet jog.
"Wait up!" Kitais huffed, dropping his pack to the floor and dashing after the elf. "You know," he panted when she finally stopped in front of a massive oaken door. "I can't let you go running off and getting into trouble alone." Straightening out and taking a few deep breaths, the halfling looked over the rune-carved surface of the door with a critical eye.
"I think we're here." Liathi breathed, feeling the door's magical warding p***k her skin from a dozen paces. "Think you can deal with those traps while I get the dwarves?" Kitais took a step forward, but found his arm shaky. "I have faith in you," Liathi whispered in his ear as she enveloped him in an embrace. "Besides, you're a good person inside, even if you trip the wards you'll have all those halfling angels to look forward to."
"You want me motivated to succeed, right?" Kitais said, grinning. "With a thought like that, I might just let that door take me." Patting the druid's hand in gratitude, he slipped down the corridor, removing his tools from his leathers as he went.
"Good luck Kitais," she whispered to his back, returning the way she came and leaving him alone with his traps. "We need you to pull through this time. For Braden, and for Dannok." Thinking of the dwarf's ailment spurred her on, and Liathi had barely returned before she was picking up backpacks and ushering the stumbling brothers down the corridor. "Come on you two, quit moping, we found it and Kitais is making it safe to enter the wizard's lair. We'll get Dannok patched up in no time!"
By the time the three returned to the door, Liathi could feel the warding's power had decreased significantly. Peeking around the corner she saw Kitais laying something on the ground. Half of the wards had disappeared, and when she braved moving closer, she saw them strewn about the corridor almost haphazardly. Or so she'd have thought if he hadn't so carefully laid the most recent aside. Tiptoeing carefully past the glowing patches on the ground, she knelt next to the concentrating rogue and waited for him to finish his current endeavor.
"Glad you're back," he said as he wiped sweat from his brow. "I need help reaching the high ones. I can only get half the door from the ground." Liathi watched, entranced, as he carefully cut around a glyph with a small knifelike tool from his kit. Carefully scraping away at the edges and underneath, he removed the glyph by peeling the entire thing from the door, taking the scribed part of the door with it. "I've got three more down here but then I'll need your help, or rather your shoulders, to get at those up higher. I'd ask Gollon but even he's too short, has to be you."
"Nice to be needed," she joked, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm going to check on Gollon and make preparations, anything you'll need for once you're done here?" Kitais patted his rapier and poignard, shook his head, and went back to removing the runes. Liathi, returning to the dwarves, inhaled through her teeth when she saw Dannok. The dwarf was barely breathing, and didn't even have the strength to hold his head up, letting it loll to the side. "We have got to get this over with. And soon." She vowed, kneeling by Gollon and helping him to prepare.
Meanwhile, as Liathi and Gollon called upon the powers they served for protection, another spell was reaching conclusion on the other side of the door. "You're insane Szanaryth, you've been chanting nonsense for three days now, and neither of us has changed. Once again, I demand you cease this foolishness!" The speaker, a young man in his mid-twenties, hung from a pair of manacles on the wall. Tattered robes still clung to his form, a testament to the failure of his earlier escape attempt.
Suddenly, without warning, the mad mage stopped his incantation and looked up. "Why couldn't you just shut up and die with dignity boy?" The voice he spoke in was old, and dry, and reminded Braden of leafing through his spellbook only more sinister. "Besides, do you really think I've failed? Look boy, this is the power I've been waiting to unleash on you for the last week!" Raising his right hand, the ancient wizard snapped his fingers, an unearthly grayish glow surrounding his hand. Oh it's not just some strange light Birdle, it's much more. You can feel its power, can't you? Its hunger?"
"You're a sick and demented old man!" Braden snapped, lashing out with his foot. "And the name's Braden!" To his horror, the glow sprouted tendrils which seemed to hunt him when his foot flew past. Testing the air, they flowed and reached in his direction, thankfully unable to grow more than a foot beyond their point of origin. Szanaryth's evil countenance split wide in a sinister grin.
"Perhaps, boy, but I won't be the old one for long." Raising his hand, he moved it toward the young wizard's face.
"Keep that away from me you deranged hermit!" Thrashing in his chains, Braden was able to repeatedly duck the half-hearted efforts of his tormentor. Szanaryth was enjoying himself it seemed, letting the tendrils of his magic try to reach the captive wizard. "You will pay for your evil, mark my words." The ancient wizard sneered and brandished his glowing appendage.
"Your words are marked, but with the vitality I'm about to inherit, I think I'll pay for my sins nice and slow. After all, I'll have the rest of your life to do so!" Cackling, the old man grabbed Braden by the throat and moaned with demented pleasure as his magic went to work. Minutes passed, the ancient wizard's skin slowly cracked and peeled off, the grey of age flaking away to reveal the healthy complexion of youth. New life suffused his limbs, straightened his back, and his dry whispering voice was replaced with a rich baritone.
"Wh-what have you d-done to me?" Braden wheezed as he slowly swung from the manacles. "I can't even l-lift my head." A strong hand grasped him by the jaw and raised his head for him. Staring into those cold, dead eyes, Braden was reminded of the party's encounter with with the Hamatula of Kizamkor. A devil from Baator, summoned by the wizard Kizamkor to aid him in overthrowing his land's monarch. Kizamkor was no longer a threat, but in his current condition, neither was Braden.
"What did I do? Only stole your youth and vitality, not something you needed, right?" Suddenly cackling, the mad mage pranced across the room to a mirror, inspecting himself for flaws. "I imagine you'll live another year or two first, but then your life is over. You had better spend it wisely. Or perhaps," he said as he drew a knife from his robes. "You will serve me better dead."
"Ready?"
"Ready as we'll ever be lass, give the word."
"Kitais?"
"I've got your back Lia, and if he's not watching, my rapier and poignard will have the mage's."
"Lets' do it."
The door exploded inward, splinters and wood fragments smashing through vials and decanters of unknown liquids by the dozen. Szanaryth flung himself behind a table, overturning it in the process, and waited for the dust to clear. "Come out an' fight ye bloody b*****d," rang the unmistakable voice of an angry dwarf. "Yer moldy bomb things are killin' me brother!"
"Wrong, dwarf," came the newly invigorated voice of the archmage. "They've already killed him. I'm certain you've attempted calling upon your god over and again, and been unable to find a cure, but that's because you clerics don't have a cure!" Raising from his cover just enough to point a rod, the mad wizard began chanting in the spidery tongue of magic.
"Gollon!" Warned Liathi, seeing the wizard appear while the dwarf was yelling in another direction. "No!" With a cry of defiance she threw herself between them, seeing nothing but a faint sparkle at the tip of the rod before she was flying across the room. Fire engulfed the area where Liathi and Gollon had been, and when it cleared the singed dwarf's eyes were on his limply flying companion. A sharp crack echoed throughout the chamber when she impacted with the far wall, over two tensteps away, and when Liathi's body fell to the floor she didn't stir.
"Lass!" Gollon whirled in the direction opposite her trajectory, eyes ablaze with holy fury, and locked stares with the mad wizard. "I'll have yer head for that ye primpy waggler," he promised, charging the wizard's table with an oath. "I ain't losin' two of me friends!" Szanaryth scrambled backward, speaking a command word which caused something on his person to turn him invisible. "That trick ain't gonna work on me ye lip flappin' 'prentice of a nether toad! Moradin done blessed me eyes, an' I'll find ye soon enough!"
"Oh I don't doubt that, good dwarf," spoke the snide voice from behind him. Turning about, Gollon saw the wizard sitting on top of a bookshelf. "Khezyd!" He spat, throwing a marble into the air. When it impacted, Gollon immediately lost sight of the wizard. He also stopped feeling the powers of his god protecting him.
"Ye blasted hogwallow of a mage!" Thundered the dwarf when he realized what had happened. "When I find ye I'll show ye what cannae be countered, me hammer!" Waving the threatened weapon in the air, Gollon began to stalk about the room. Szanaryth had moved again, and chanting could be heard from near Liathi's body. Afraid of casting anything in her direction, Gollon charged. The archmage, unconcerned, appeared next to Liathi's body chanting a spell. When Gollon was but a tenstep away, the wizard smiled, pointed a finger, and watched in pleasure as the dwarf stopped in his tracks, clawing at his chest.
"You're having a heart attack dwarf, is it enjoyable? You can fall over any moment now, go ahead." Gollon staggered to his knees, catching himself with one hand, and bowed his head. "What is this, you're praying? Just give it up and fall over already stumpy! You've lost!" Stomping over to the dwarf, the wizard put his hands on his hips and glared. "I told you to die you freakish midget!" A curious look came over the wizard's face then, and looking down he saw two long thin blades poking out the front of his chest.
"That was for Liathi, and Dannok, and Braden. . ." Said a choked up voice behind him. Szanaryth's face screwed up a little more as he turned to regard the curious halfling. "Wait, what?" Asked Kitais as the blades passed right through his enemy. "No," he began, stabbing his foe multiple times in the chest. "No, you're not just an illusion! I can see you! I can see the truth, and it says you're right here!" Grinning evilly, the wizard began another incantation, his body transforming into solid iron, and he let his incorporeal state drop.
"Trying to hurt me, little rogue?" He asked in a singsong yet reverberating metallic voice. "You don't stand a chance pygmy." Casually throwing the halfling aside, the wizard began to walk away. Things couldn't have gone better for Szanaryth. He had his youth, he got to kill some adventurers, his undead had proven effective, life was looking up. Until the warhammer hit him in the kidney.
The first thought to get past the pain asked him where his ironskin went. The second told him that doubling over in agony would probably feel a lot better, so be obliged. "You don't throw Kit around like that." He heard from behind him. A decidedly feminine and musical voice spoke through the haze of pain and he realized that somehow, the elf had survived his meteor swarm. Four spheres of painfully searing fire, all impacting on her ribs in the same spot, throwing her far enough to break a child in two on impact, and still she had survived? He wasn't even counting on the devastating burns she'd have had.
"The damned dwarf!" He spat, whirling about to catch another hammer, this time in the shoulder, and saw Gollon advancing with his jaw set firm. Again Kitais came out of nowhere, this time scoring a hit on the archmage's calf since it was both solid and non-metallic. Hissing in rage, Szanaryth lifted Kitais by the neck, incanting a spell with his other hand free. "You try to attack me from behind twice in one day you little weasel, I will make sure you earn the name." This time when he threw Kitais across the room, it was a red and black weasel that skittered to a stop amongst the dust.
"Ye'll pay for that ye spindly frizzy-haired newt." Gollon growled, weaving his arms and shifting his weight as he chanted a deeply complex spell. Szanaryth hissed in contempt when he realized what the dwarf was doing and began his own chant. A shimmering portal appeared between them, filling the room from floor to ceiling. Small sparks of energy flew from its edges and an image of an unearthly beautiful landscape stretched to the horizon. "Moradin, in thy name I call upon thee, lend this servant the aid of thine hosts, send unto me but one of thine angels that we may avenge the fallen and bring their killer to justice." On one knee, Gollon looked up to the gesturing wizard, the gleam of holy fervor in his eyes as a silvery limb slid forth from the oval's glassy surface.
A second rift tore itself in the room, opening as if rent from the surface of reality instead of gently sliding in as Gollon's had. ". . .I call upon you, great Khigara, aid me this once and I shall grant you the freedom you wish. Step forth, and let the world know your name once more!" The nightmarish reality behind the roiling planar rift suddenly disappeared, two blood-red eyes and a massive body blocking all else from sight.
Gollon's lip curled when he saw the demonic countenance slip through the gate into the room, and he backed away carefully, chanting the words to a banishment spell. Before he could finish, Szanaryth drew a rod from his belt and made a flicking motion at the dwarf. A ghastly looking hand, twice the dwarf's size, appeared and wrapped itself around him. A cry of surprise and rage erupted from his mouth when he found himself wrapped in what appeared to be a rotting fist.
A snarl of enmity erupted from the demon's maw when it stepped forth to see a Solar brandishing its greatsword. Its great head swinging around, the Balor glared at its summoner, raising its massive blade. "Nirlic" Spoke the wizard with a sneer, a field of energy covering him from head to toe. "You will do as I asked, and I will see to it that you succeed, my ally. Then you will be free to terrorize this world as you see fit." Pointing to the Solar, he commanded the Balor to keep it occupied. Rolling back his sleeves, The wizard focused on the elven female and began to chant.
"Too late villain, I'll make you pay for what you did to Kitais!" Her hands blurred with motion, Liathi spun her hands in concentric circles and the wizard's robes whipped about his ankles. "I'll beat you to death with your own accursed library if I have to!" The winds became frenzied, suddenly rising from the floor. Books and decanters, glass shards, shreds of paper and smoldering cinders all picked off the ground as a cyclone took shape in the subterranian room. His spell interrupted, Szanaryth tried to keep his footing in the midst of the druid's unleashed fury.
His attempt was foiled however, when a small black form appeared in front of his face, clawing its way through the debris to the heart of the maelstrom. Kitais, 'The Nightblood' who appears from nowhere, latched onto Szanaryth's throat with a feral screech of animalistic rage. All thoughts of balance flew from the wizard's mind as he felt the four little paws tearing at his skin, the teeth trying to find the artery which the roguish mind within knew was so near he could almost taste it.
"Away you little beast!" The mad mage screamed, tearing the weasel from his throat and, with a gleam born of madness consuming his eyes, watched happily as the shattered leg of a table impaled both the creature and his hand. "Got you!" He laughed, losing all sense of direction until he landed on his back against the ceiling. The twister suddenly vanished, leaving the wizard upside down and backward with an impaled weasel stuck to one hand and thirty feet to drop. Immediately he muttered one word and slowed his descent, gliding gently to the ground. Just before touchdown, the mighty blade of the Solar seemingly appeared from nothing and dug deep into his side, severing his arm halfway to the shoulder.
Khigara, seizing his chance, swung at his foe and separated the angel from one of its wings. Normally an even match, for this Balor was certainly stronger than the norm, the Solar had been distracted a split second by the descent of the wizard. A simple sidestep while swinging had allowed the wizard's body to interfere with his strike. Had he stepped the other way, the Balor would be the one in pain. Wrenching his sword free, the Solar went on the offensive, swinging with seeming reckless abandon at the form of his enemy.
A flash of light suddenly erupted from behind the angel, enveloping both it and Liathi in an aura of divine protection. Gollon, one eye swollen shut and looking much like he had been thrown from a city wall, stood in the center of the emanation with a steeled gaze. At the same moment, Liathi completed a spell of her own, calling swarm of elementals to pour forth from a fiery rift. "Ye'll pay for aiding the mage." Promised the dwarf, leveling his warhammer. "I'll see ye banished long enough for me kin t' take up the fight should ye find yer way back."
The Balor clapped its wings and leapt backward, landing near the back wall of the room. Spitting a quick incantation, a wave of dark energy swept out from it in a pulse. In contrast to the holy aura which emanated from the cleric, Khigara was wrapped in a profane aura of darkness. "There is no contract now that the wizard's spirit roams the Hells, leave me be mortals." Glaring at the Solar, knowing himself overmatched against the remaining forces, the Balor dodged repeated swings of the angel's mighty blade as he recited the words to a teleportation spell. Sulphur filled the room, causing the dwarf and elf to choke and cough until the air cleared. When it had dispersed, an act aided by the Solar, the demon was nowhere to be found.
"I must hunt down the demon before it wreaks more havoc in the world." Spoke the Solar, looking at the cleric. "It is doubtful a free Balor would willingly go home when his summoner called him through a gate, more likely he went to do what he had agreed upon earlier, wanton destruction and murder." Before it could leave the room, the towering angel found itself stopped by the elven female.
"Let me take care of that," she said, pointing to the stump where the Balor had cut off his wing. Holding the severed wing, she offered it to the Angel. "By the time you get out, it'll be healed." She said, lifting it again. Regarding her gesture with an arched eyebrow, the Solar permitted her to attach the wing. Softly chanting as Gollon looked around for allies, Liathi's spell slowly knitted the flesh back together. "Be careful for a little while." The Solar nodded, handed Liathi a feather which had fallen from one of his wings during combat, and strode from the room.
"By Moradin's beard lad, what happened t'ye?" Liathi heard as she added the feather to her hair. A rattling of chains sounded from off to her right, and when she turned she saw the wizard's broken body, saw the impaled animal stuck to his hand. A piteous wail caused Gollon to come charging around the corner of the rubble he had been behind to see Liathi cradling the weasel. As she rambled incoherently he caught the gist of what troubled her most, being the one that created the whirlwind.
"I killed him Gollon, I did it, with my magic." The dwarf tried to comfort his companion, but she was inconsolable. "I'll fix this," she swore, stuffing the small corpse into a bag. "As soon as I can collect the necessary herbs I'll bring him back." Gollon nodded, appearing as solid as the stone he was born under. Rifling through the mage's pouches and pockets, he found a key and returned to his labors. A few seconds later, a stooped old man wearing Braden's robes followed him back to Liathi's position.
"We shouldn't dawdle." Said the wizard, laying a hand on the elf's shoulder. "That Balor is free, and the angel may not be enough to stop it." Liathi shrugged him off and stood, holding herself close, arms wrapped about her own torso as if chilled. "Come on, we'll get that little scoundrel back, just you wait. I'll help you gather the herbs. I'm afraid I won't be good for much else at the moment."
"Thanks Braden," she said softly, looking over the poor human's incredibly aged form. "Is there any way to return you to normal?" Reaching a hand up gingerly, she felt the leathery skin of his cheek.
"Not without a spell that I refuse to use." He responded with a half hearted shrug and smile. "Now, let us regroup, recoup, and finish what was started here."
Five days passed before they set out again, seeking information on the demon. Kitais had a greater respect for wizards, Liathi wouldn't let him out of her sight either. Convinced that it was her fault he had died, she refused to let Gollon resurrect his corpse. Relying on her own power, she had reincarnated the halfling. He was still getting used to being human, but she assured him with a wink that he was a short one. Having pored through Szanaryth's lore on the moldy undead, Braden was able to cleanse Dannok's corpse, thus allowing Gollon to resurrect his brother. The warrior never looked at moldy food the same way again.
Liathi had become attached to the halfling-turned-human, Gollon had tried to reverse Braden's aging without success, and the wizard studied his captured tomes. Dannok, once again among the living, immediately took over as leader. With no clue of the path, but a firm goal ahead of them, the five set out to hunt the escaped demon and its minions.
©2005-2006 Vandin Astebrooke
Too late. . .
No small drops to act as warning shots, or test the fall, a deluge of slashing rain swept through the foothills and scraggly trees, propelled forth by a wind which announced its arrival by blowing the druid from her feet. "This stinks like havin' ta use a broken grindstone." The other two heard from Dannok, the dwarven warrior as he planted his feet against the wind and crossed his arms over his chest, his cloak whipping about and throwing water back into the wind.
"We cannae leave him behind Dannok, even with yer distrust of magic ye've got t'admit Braden's saved yer life enough times with his." The last member of the group, another dwarf who looked much like the first, reached down and lifted the druid to her feet where he wrapped a strong fist about her arm to hold her steady. "We've got t'get in an' fight for him like ye know he'd do for us."
Kitais made a sudden triumphant sound and tossed a small object off into the wind. When it finally impacted with a tree the whole thing blew apart from a blast of lightning which originated at the impact point, and the other members cringed. "I wish he would stop doing that." Liathi remarked, patting Gollon on the arm as thanks for keeping her from blowing away like the trap. A few seconds later, Kitais flashed his lightstone and the three trudged through the boot-sucking mud to where he huddled against the door.
"Nice of you to keep Liathi warm and safe, how about holding the halfling when he's trying to get rid of a minor annoyance?" Kitais quipped as the dwarves and elf made their way up the hill. He knew they wouldn't do that, no sense in having two of their number cut down by the trap, Gollon would be out of prayers before they even reached the one responsible for their current endeavor. Still, it was his joking and antics that often kept the morale up, so with a grin he patted his lap and invited Liathi to secure herself in his nook while the dwarf brothers opened the door.
Kitais always took opportunities to get near the elf, not out of desire, but mere playful attitude. The viper in her sleeve had taught him the boundaries long before, but risk was half the fun, and getting nursed back to health from Sissi's venom made failure tolerable if not downright enjoyable at times. Rolling her eyes, Liathi curled up in the nook and petted her sleeve as a reminder. The brothers, stout and strong as their kind are renowned for, began the arduous process of dragging the windblown doors open while sliding in the mud.
Dwarven strength, perseverance, and knowledge of architecture went to work, with the two dwarves gradually sliding the doors open enough for their thinner companions to slip through. Once inside, Liathi helped the brothers open a single door wide enough for them to slip in, and Kitais spiked it open, dashing over to help Liathi hold the door while Gollon, the weaker of the two dwarves, worked his way inside. With the sturdy dwarf bolstering the spikes, Dannok was able to leave his position and enter the mad wizard's tower as well, shaking like a dog and throwing his cloak to the ground in irritation.
"Every blasted step o' the way!" He bellowed after the door spikes caved to pressure and shot down the hall with a chorus of pings. The tower reverberated with the announcement of the great portal's closure. "First Braden gets 'is fool arse kidnapped when we've got but a week's travel ahead o' us. Then that bloody nag ye convinced us t' rescue from the farmer, which cost us half a week's food in coin I might add, cankered on the side o' the road! And now this storm which, I've got ta say reminds me of that gnome's blasted sneeze machine, just has to creep up an' lock us out for a good half'n hour!"
Liathi walked calmly over to the sour dwarf and patted him on the cheek. "And your blustering about in the entryway isn't making any progress either Punkin'." Dannok fumed at her pet name for him, granted when one of Braden's spells went awry and turned the dwarf (and everything around him) orange. Kitais and Gollon were chuckling in the background as they repacked their belongings, considering everything had become rather waterlogged and disheveled during the storm. One by one, pieces of equipment were tossed from the packs in front of their respective owners.
Kitais picked and prodded at the opening to a small, waterproof, wooden box. As the hidden trap disarmed itself and the tumblers clicked he lifted the lid reverently. Leathers were folded in the base, and various high quality tools of his trade were slid into a secret compartment in the lid. Stripping off his mud-caked travel leathers and soaking wet clothes, he dressed himself in loose blood colored clothing which he mostly hid beneath the black leather of his armor. As usual, Liathi's nose turned up at the ensemble.
"How can you wear such things?" She asked. "The colors really don't suit you."
Winking in response, the halfling backed out of the light and seemed to disappear into the shadows. "Because in some light, red is harder to see than black." His voice came from farther down the hall than she had expected him to be. "Going all black would not only be a horrible wardrobe choice, but it would have stopped me from earning my nickname."
"You're impossible." She returned as he sauntered out of hiding with a self-satisfied expression.
Gollon slung a crossbow over his back, cleaned his shield straps, and made sure his armor was tight. He then sat down and began cataloguing his available miscellaneous weaponry. "Alchemist's fire, caltrops, sling, thunderstones, throwing hammer, branch, bag of mud, rock, bandage, and sock." Dannok stared at him, incredulous, and shook his head.
"An' what're ye plannin' to do with even half o' that?" He demanded with a scowl, disapproving of his brother's eccentric manner of approaching combat. Gollon raised each item as he explained its purpose.
"Y'see brother, a mage don't concentrate so well when yer pokin' him in the rump or swattin' him in the face, so a branch is useful for that. I can always break the tip off and stab 'im too, if worse comes to worst. Ye can blind someone with mud, brainin' 'em with a rock is effective, as a last resort, and good for crushin' fingers too. And If'n ye immobilize 'im, I can gag 'im with the sock and bandage."
Dannok 'humphed' and started sharpening his waraxe, that being the most preparation he ever seemed to put into a battle. Liathi was also light on the preparation, making sure she had her spell components, tightening her armor and boots, and playing with Sissi while waiting for the two remaining to finish their preparation.
"You know," she began. "The doors made that loud noise a couple of minutes ago, I'd be surprised if your actions haven't given our enemy time to prepare already." Dannok 'humphed' again and hefted his axe, as if that was all the answer she would need.
Kitais was buckling a bandoleer of darts on and Gollon stood up, his preparations complete. "It doesn't matter." The rogue replied without his usual humor. "I set off the alarm trap long before I started working on the lightning one. He's known we were here since before that storm hit." Testing each dart, making sure none caught on anything as they were drawn and reinserted, he continued his preparations. "Therefore," he continued. "I am going to prepare myself as absolutely best I can before he gets bored and comes looking for me. After all," he said with a grin, extending his arms to show off his attire. "Nobody wants to leave their house undefended against The Nightblood for long."
Liathi graced him with an affectionate smile, grateful to have the egocentric halfling along on many of their adventures. Shouldering their packs, ready to drop them and fight if need be, the companions began their exploration of the tower. The first room they entered was coated in dust, it seemed untouched for centuries, not a single footprint marred the surface until they began to cross.
"A king's ransom going to waste. . ." Kitais breathed as his eyes roamed everywhere, taking in the shining baubles and crystal adornments that sat on shelves, hung from chandeliers, and were generally ignored under so many years of dust. However, much as he wanted to loot the place, Braden did come first. Not that his internal reasoning would have seemed very sound to Gollon who took the rear, passing by this or that clean spot where a wine glass or jewelry box had sat just moments before.
To the left of the entryway stood a solid oaken door. Across from the entry, in the western corner of the south wall, a staircase disappeared up above them. In the eastern corner a second stair disappeared down, and to their right, in the east wall, another oak door sat slightly ajar, all dark within. Raising his hand to keep the others back, Kitais scampered across the room, mostly on or under furniture, and examined the slightly open door. Once his examination was complete, he took a less expeditious route back through the room, giving it a cursory examination for traps. "I'm guessing he expected most people to get fried at the door," he stated, excited despite the danger. "But then, he wasn't expecting me."
Gollon gestured over to the other door while Dannok and Liathi moved to examine the room beyond the one which stood ajar. A soft click told them that Kitais had discovered a trap, the lock soon opened though the door remained shut. Kitais knew better than to explore on his own, so he and Gollon rejoined the other two in what appeared to be a kitchen. Dust covered everything, and what wasn't dusty was covered in mold, the room reeked of it. Along one wall, where the stove was it seemed, mold grew everywhere. Seeming to originate from a pot on the stove. Creeping over to investigate, they found the skeletal remains of three humanoids lying on the floor, rotted away to bone.
No injury marred their skeletons, no chips, fractures, or other discernable damage. The humidity and mold gave them a fuzzy appearance where the mold grew. Thinking he saw something glitter in the inside of one skull, Kitais reached down to see, and Gollon stamped down on the skeleton's hand, grabbing the halfling by the back of his leathers and tossing him away. A cloud of mold spores erupted from the skeleton's mouth, and a sickly green light flickered to macabre life within its hollow eye sockets.
Screeching in an unearthly voice, the thing sat up and struggled to free its hand for a split second before the cleric's warhammer drove all the way from the crown of its skull through the end of its spine.
The other two skeletons sat up as well, these pulling rusted kitchen utensils from under the dust on the counter, and advanced on the invading party. Liathi swapped her scimitar for her cudgel, brandishing the gnarled chunk of wood expertly. Dannok rushed forward, barreling into one and carrying it to the floor with his weight, chopping once with his axe and sending an arm skittering off to the side. The second advanced on Gollon, but was met by three stout cracks from Liathi's cudgel, driving it backward a couple of steps.
"This one's tough, how'd you get yours so fast?" She shot to Gollon. In response he raised his hammer, a faint glow rapidly fading.
"I called on Moradin an' smote it." He said simply, drawing his throwing hammer and snapping his wrist forward, both exchanging a look as the skeleton took another step backward. "Damned things're tougher'n I gave 'em credit for." He grumbled as he drew his warhammer again. Kitais disappeared, not that he expected to attack the undead from the shadows and be any more effective than his allies, but rather because he knew he would do better waiting for an opportunity than if he tried standing toe-to-toe with one of the moldy beasts. Dannok was growling as the skeleton he fought clawed at his face, and he repeatedly chopped into it with his axe, bone splinters flying up and over the counters.
Kitais crept around the counter and got in front of Dannok, though the dwarf's savage hail of blows upon the mostly inert skeleton prevented him from getting near. As its body deteriorated under the blows, the skeleton began to shudder and shake, and with a final strike to the wildly rolling head it exploded in a cloud of mold spores. Dannok flew backward from the blast, curling into a ball against the wall and coughing madly. Splinters of bone were embedded in his cheeks, and tiny rivulets of blood slid down their lengths, dripping to the floor as the coughs wracked his frame. Seeing the third skeleton advancing toward Liathi and Gollon on shaky legs, each blow seeming to make it less stable, he bolted from cover, flying through the air in a tackle.
"Get down!" He yelled, catching Liathi about the waist, blasting the breath from her lungs. Tumbling over her prone and gasping form, he dropped a cloth over her face and dashed for Gollon.
"Bloody hell?" The dwarf cursed, his vision suddenly covered by a cloth that smelled of leather and damp halfling. A small p***k on his hand caused him to release his warhammer, and as he tried to figure out how the cape was wrapped about his head he heard an inhale of breath, two steps, and an explosion. A lightweight being ran into him with a muffled "oww" and he tore the cape from his head glaring down at Kitais who sat on the floor with one hand bleeding and his pack in his lap.
"The bloody hell'd ye do that for?!" He thundered at the halfling, and Kitais set his pack aside, pointing at Dannok. "Oh muck and sandstone," the cleric cursed as he stomped over to his brother, kicking him in the shin. "Get up ye pansy. Ye've taken bigger fireballs'n that'n kept goin'." Dannok tightened his grip on his waraxe, steeling himself against the coughing, and with a final shudder he stood up. "Go check Liathi, she oughtta have somethin' ye can use to pull them barbs from yer face." Turning away from his brother, Gollon moved back to check on the whimpering Kitais who held his injured hand gingerly.
"Could you just, you know, destroy them with the might of Moradin next time? From a safe distance? Behind a table or something?" Kitais asked with a grin as the dwarf's lips moved with a prayer. The lacerations and puncture wounds that covered his hand slowly closed over, and as his body healed, small mold spores rolled out of the closing wounds like tiny streams of pus.
"Sure thing," the dwarf said, patting him on the shoulder. "Ye just creep on over an' make sure they be the walkin' kind o' dead first."
Kitais, not paying attention to the jest, looked at the spores. "I think those bones were poisonous," the halfling said, wiping his hand clean. "You should fix Dannok up too, once he gets the bones out at least."
Dannok knelt on the floor next to Liathi, carefully pulling bone fragments from his face and hands, while the elf continued to regain her breath. She had been able to find her hand mirror, one of the few items of civilization she enjoyed keeping around, and had lent it to him so he could see where all he was hurt. Every once in a while the dwarf would cough again, still fighting off the effects of the explosion.
"Here now, lets' patch ye up an' get on our merry way." Gollon said before he once again closed his eyes in prayer, and as with Kitais, a plethora of spores rolled out of the dwarf's wounds. "Whatever them things were, I pray to Moradin we don't find more." The cleric muttered when everyone was up and ready again.
Moving back out, across the main hall, the companions examined the room Kitais had unlocked. The room appeared to be a sitting room, a comfortable couch sat in the center of the room, a short table between it and the fireplace. The room seemed almost devoid of dust, a stark contrast to the other two they had been in.
"Must fly or pop about 'is tower like all them other mages." Dannok rumbled, noticing a copious lack of other entrances or exits from the room.
"Or he uses secret passages like that noble in Kalhorest did." Piped in Liathi as she examined the perimeter of the room, stopping in a couple of places to check more thoroughly.
"Though with his power," Kitais remarked from his own side of the room. "I'd imagine he has a localized teleportation matrix set up to be persistent and activate only for him." The dwarves stared at him with blank expressions, and Liathi, too, furrowed her brow as he spoke. "You know, a series of gates that he can open up to go to specific places in his tower whenever he speaks the command word."
"Well why not talk sense the first time?" Dannok growled, his voice tight.
"I did." Kitais mumbled to himself as he kept searching the area, occasionally casting the dwarf a hurt glance. As he searched, he came across a loose sconce in the wall, but was barely too short to reach it.
"Guys?" Liathi called from across the room. "I think I found something. This wall has a crack in it, and. . ." Her speech was halted as the wall began to slide open. Looking around, she saw Kitais staring at the opening with his sword over his head, the sconce leaning to his left. "Oh." She said simply, waving each of them over. "Thanks Kit, that was good timing."
"What? Oh, the sconce? But. . ." His words were cut off as Dannok brushed past, hurried almost, and the others followed suit. "But the door was opening before I touched it." He mumbled to the dark portal, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs and pursuing their fleeting footsteps.
The doorway led into a dark passage, angling downward into the earth, the musty smell of mold and dust permeating the air. Each step kicked up many years worth of the toxic powders, particles and spores met and combined in small eddies, stirred up in the wake of the passing group. Each of the group coughed now and then as the vile cloud reached their lungs. When they finally exited the tunnel, Dannok fell to his hands and knees, coughing as if trying to bring his lungs up. Gollon looked over his hardy brother with concern, noting the pale skin and quivering of his axe hand.
"Are ye alright Dannok?" He asked, offering a hand to the weakened warrior. Coughing once more, the dwarf slapped his brother's hand aside and clambered to his feet.
"Methinks it was the blasted moldy-boned undead thing what's got me so worked up. All the dust in yon tunnel made it affect me again." Dannok straightened his armor, picked up his waraxe, and continued on toward the only new door in sight. Gollon raised a finger and was about to speak when Dannok grabbed the handle and pulled the door open.
"What?" He asked, turning around to find out why he was alone and seeing everyone standing still, his brother about to speak. "Ye thought the blasted thing'd be trapped? Take a risk ye puss." With a 'harumf' he stomped through the door into the next room. Not more than a few seconds later, after wondering what his sudden hurry was, the rest of the troupe followed.
"I always thought Dannok hated Braden," Liathi remarked to Gollon as they followed the increasingly speedy dwarf. "Why is he in such a hurry to rescue him? I'd think of all of us he'd be the one who most wanted to take it slow and careful." Gollon merely shrugged, his short legs pumping to keep up with the long-limbed elf and his frenetic sibling.
"Dannok, hold up." He called, three times before his brother slowed and waited for them, and when the three caught up they could see the fevered gleam in his eyes. "What's yer hurry Dannok? I can tell ye've got somethin' botherin' ye, an' we can all see that this pace be makin' yer coughin' worse. Slow down some, we'll have a better chance o' findin' what we're lookin' for that way."
"No time," the warrior mumbled, looking around nervously and coughing. Suddenly, he turned and started walking briskly down the hall where he'd been going. "We've got t'find him, and it, 'afore it be too late. . ." Only Liathi's keen elven ears picked up what he muttered, though all knew something was wrong with him. Dannok disappeared around the next bend, his seeming insanity lending impetus to his stride, and then they heard it.
"Muck! Back ye splintery sons o' yesterweek's cheese!" A waraxe cracked on bone, and Dannok's unmistakable voice cursed, that was all it took for the rest to change from walking swiftly, to running. Dannok stepped to his left, avoiding a swinging claw from a skeleton that flanked him to the right. Bringing up his shield, he blocked two attempts at clawing him from the initial skeleton he faced, and then had to fight for balance as it grabbed the edges of the shield and began to pull. "Sandstone!" He growled. "Bugger off or me axe'll make' dog bones o' ye!" Quickly dodging again to his left, Dannok barely avoided another swing from the flanking skeleton, its fingers parting his beard and missing his skin by less than the vane of a feather.
"In the name of Moradin, The All-Father, Forger of Souls, I command ye to rest forevermore in the depths o' the earth!" Intoned a powerful voice, Gollon performing his sworn duty. Brandishing his holy symbol, the dwarven cleric stomped down the hall, skeletons melting as the holy aura touched them. "Lay ye down an' forget this tormented existence. May Moradin sever the bonds what hold ye to this realm," marching along Gollon kept up his chant, ending it with his usual mien. "An' let ye stay dead this time ye moldy bastards."
Three of the skeletons still stood when he was done with his march, and without missing a beat, he drew his warhammer and began swinging. Having learned from the previous encounter Liathi and Gollon beat the skeletons until they were about to shatter, then Dannok, saving his strength for his moments, pushed them back where they could explode safely. Kitais' weapons were nearly useless, so he avoided risking melee combat. By the end of the fight Liathi needed healing, where a skeleton had raked its claws along her side, and where another had apparently lost a claw in her back. Kitais used a pair of lock tongs from his toolkit to grasp the offending bone and remove it as Liathi writhed in pain.
"Easy lass," Gollon advised when Kitais was done removing the bone. "This might hurt a smidge, but ye'll feel a lot better once ye get that crud outta ye." Placing his hands over the wounds, he intoned a simple prayer and wiped the spores off when it was complete. Liathi, shaken, pushed herself to her knees and looked at the cleric's pallid brother with a deeper understanding.
"We need to go." She said quietly, subdued, as if her mind was far off. "These abominations are even more a perversion than the normal kind. We need to eliminate the monster that made them, see to it that he doesn't make any more." A shudder coursed through her frame, and her lip curled in a silent snarl, but she was otherwise seemingly calm.
"Dannok," Gollon said as the fighter stood from where he had sat against the wall. "Ye need t'slow down. Keepin' yer eye on the goal is a fine thing, aye, but if ye don't take time to watch yer step, ye'll wind up fallen 'afore ye get there." Dannok nodded, seeming to have reconsidered his earlier haste after walking headlong into the skeletons. "Ye need to take care of yerself."
"And I'll help," said Kitais cheerfully, standing beside the dwarves with his backpack strapped onto his chest. "I'll take Dannok's pack, since I'll be almost useless if we meet more of those skeletons." Not waiting for the dwarf to protest, he swung the pack onto his back with a grunt. "No wonder you guys are so strong," he muttered as he strapped it down. "You carry more than two of me all day long. . ."
Hours passed and they finally stopped to rest, Dannok leaning on his brother as they walked, his axe safely on his belt since it had fallen from nerveless fingers long before. Kitais, still wearing Dannok's pack, fell sideways from Liathi's back, and she too collapsed to the ground. The halfling squirmed out of the straps and crawled over to the druid, running his hand through her thick ruff as she panted for breath.
"Thanks for the ride Lia," he said as she slowly reverted from her lupine form. "That was the best!" Still somewhat weary from carrying the halfling, his pack, and the dwarf's gear, she simply grunted and lay still. They had fought another three groups of the skeletons, and some zombies that were not only immune to the knockback, but seemed to bleed mold when cut. Due to her burden, this had left each fight to the dwarves, and the effort had left Dannok in a very weakened state.
Exhaling her lethargy, Liathi pushed herself to a sitting position and shrugged out of Kitais' backpack. "You're lucky I only have a small amount of personal belongings." She said as she pulled her bag from his pack. "And you have no clue just how heavy you and that equipment are together, trust me." Playfully ruffling the roguish halfling's hair, Liathi slowly staggered over to Gollon's side so she could check on Dannok. Once there, she suddenly laid a hand on the cleric's shoulder and asked them both to be quiet. Her ears perked, the druid looked off down the corridor. After a few moments of silence she took off at a quiet jog.
"Wait up!" Kitais huffed, dropping his pack to the floor and dashing after the elf. "You know," he panted when she finally stopped in front of a massive oaken door. "I can't let you go running off and getting into trouble alone." Straightening out and taking a few deep breaths, the halfling looked over the rune-carved surface of the door with a critical eye.
"I think we're here." Liathi breathed, feeling the door's magical warding p***k her skin from a dozen paces. "Think you can deal with those traps while I get the dwarves?" Kitais took a step forward, but found his arm shaky. "I have faith in you," Liathi whispered in his ear as she enveloped him in an embrace. "Besides, you're a good person inside, even if you trip the wards you'll have all those halfling angels to look forward to."
"You want me motivated to succeed, right?" Kitais said, grinning. "With a thought like that, I might just let that door take me." Patting the druid's hand in gratitude, he slipped down the corridor, removing his tools from his leathers as he went.
"Good luck Kitais," she whispered to his back, returning the way she came and leaving him alone with his traps. "We need you to pull through this time. For Braden, and for Dannok." Thinking of the dwarf's ailment spurred her on, and Liathi had barely returned before she was picking up backpacks and ushering the stumbling brothers down the corridor. "Come on you two, quit moping, we found it and Kitais is making it safe to enter the wizard's lair. We'll get Dannok patched up in no time!"
By the time the three returned to the door, Liathi could feel the warding's power had decreased significantly. Peeking around the corner she saw Kitais laying something on the ground. Half of the wards had disappeared, and when she braved moving closer, she saw them strewn about the corridor almost haphazardly. Or so she'd have thought if he hadn't so carefully laid the most recent aside. Tiptoeing carefully past the glowing patches on the ground, she knelt next to the concentrating rogue and waited for him to finish his current endeavor.
"Glad you're back," he said as he wiped sweat from his brow. "I need help reaching the high ones. I can only get half the door from the ground." Liathi watched, entranced, as he carefully cut around a glyph with a small knifelike tool from his kit. Carefully scraping away at the edges and underneath, he removed the glyph by peeling the entire thing from the door, taking the scribed part of the door with it. "I've got three more down here but then I'll need your help, or rather your shoulders, to get at those up higher. I'd ask Gollon but even he's too short, has to be you."
"Nice to be needed," she joked, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm going to check on Gollon and make preparations, anything you'll need for once you're done here?" Kitais patted his rapier and poignard, shook his head, and went back to removing the runes. Liathi, returning to the dwarves, inhaled through her teeth when she saw Dannok. The dwarf was barely breathing, and didn't even have the strength to hold his head up, letting it loll to the side. "We have got to get this over with. And soon." She vowed, kneeling by Gollon and helping him to prepare.
Meanwhile, as Liathi and Gollon called upon the powers they served for protection, another spell was reaching conclusion on the other side of the door. "You're insane Szanaryth, you've been chanting nonsense for three days now, and neither of us has changed. Once again, I demand you cease this foolishness!" The speaker, a young man in his mid-twenties, hung from a pair of manacles on the wall. Tattered robes still clung to his form, a testament to the failure of his earlier escape attempt.
Suddenly, without warning, the mad mage stopped his incantation and looked up. "Why couldn't you just shut up and die with dignity boy?" The voice he spoke in was old, and dry, and reminded Braden of leafing through his spellbook only more sinister. "Besides, do you really think I've failed? Look boy, this is the power I've been waiting to unleash on you for the last week!" Raising his right hand, the ancient wizard snapped his fingers, an unearthly grayish glow surrounding his hand. Oh it's not just some strange light Birdle, it's much more. You can feel its power, can't you? Its hunger?"
"You're a sick and demented old man!" Braden snapped, lashing out with his foot. "And the name's Braden!" To his horror, the glow sprouted tendrils which seemed to hunt him when his foot flew past. Testing the air, they flowed and reached in his direction, thankfully unable to grow more than a foot beyond their point of origin. Szanaryth's evil countenance split wide in a sinister grin.
"Perhaps, boy, but I won't be the old one for long." Raising his hand, he moved it toward the young wizard's face.
"Keep that away from me you deranged hermit!" Thrashing in his chains, Braden was able to repeatedly duck the half-hearted efforts of his tormentor. Szanaryth was enjoying himself it seemed, letting the tendrils of his magic try to reach the captive wizard. "You will pay for your evil, mark my words." The ancient wizard sneered and brandished his glowing appendage.
"Your words are marked, but with the vitality I'm about to inherit, I think I'll pay for my sins nice and slow. After all, I'll have the rest of your life to do so!" Cackling, the old man grabbed Braden by the throat and moaned with demented pleasure as his magic went to work. Minutes passed, the ancient wizard's skin slowly cracked and peeled off, the grey of age flaking away to reveal the healthy complexion of youth. New life suffused his limbs, straightened his back, and his dry whispering voice was replaced with a rich baritone.
"Wh-what have you d-done to me?" Braden wheezed as he slowly swung from the manacles. "I can't even l-lift my head." A strong hand grasped him by the jaw and raised his head for him. Staring into those cold, dead eyes, Braden was reminded of the party's encounter with with the Hamatula of Kizamkor. A devil from Baator, summoned by the wizard Kizamkor to aid him in overthrowing his land's monarch. Kizamkor was no longer a threat, but in his current condition, neither was Braden.
"What did I do? Only stole your youth and vitality, not something you needed, right?" Suddenly cackling, the mad mage pranced across the room to a mirror, inspecting himself for flaws. "I imagine you'll live another year or two first, but then your life is over. You had better spend it wisely. Or perhaps," he said as he drew a knife from his robes. "You will serve me better dead."
"Ready?"
"Ready as we'll ever be lass, give the word."
"Kitais?"
"I've got your back Lia, and if he's not watching, my rapier and poignard will have the mage's."
"Lets' do it."
The door exploded inward, splinters and wood fragments smashing through vials and decanters of unknown liquids by the dozen. Szanaryth flung himself behind a table, overturning it in the process, and waited for the dust to clear. "Come out an' fight ye bloody b*****d," rang the unmistakable voice of an angry dwarf. "Yer moldy bomb things are killin' me brother!"
"Wrong, dwarf," came the newly invigorated voice of the archmage. "They've already killed him. I'm certain you've attempted calling upon your god over and again, and been unable to find a cure, but that's because you clerics don't have a cure!" Raising from his cover just enough to point a rod, the mad wizard began chanting in the spidery tongue of magic.
"Gollon!" Warned Liathi, seeing the wizard appear while the dwarf was yelling in another direction. "No!" With a cry of defiance she threw herself between them, seeing nothing but a faint sparkle at the tip of the rod before she was flying across the room. Fire engulfed the area where Liathi and Gollon had been, and when it cleared the singed dwarf's eyes were on his limply flying companion. A sharp crack echoed throughout the chamber when she impacted with the far wall, over two tensteps away, and when Liathi's body fell to the floor she didn't stir.
"Lass!" Gollon whirled in the direction opposite her trajectory, eyes ablaze with holy fury, and locked stares with the mad wizard. "I'll have yer head for that ye primpy waggler," he promised, charging the wizard's table with an oath. "I ain't losin' two of me friends!" Szanaryth scrambled backward, speaking a command word which caused something on his person to turn him invisible. "That trick ain't gonna work on me ye lip flappin' 'prentice of a nether toad! Moradin done blessed me eyes, an' I'll find ye soon enough!"
"Oh I don't doubt that, good dwarf," spoke the snide voice from behind him. Turning about, Gollon saw the wizard sitting on top of a bookshelf. "Khezyd!" He spat, throwing a marble into the air. When it impacted, Gollon immediately lost sight of the wizard. He also stopped feeling the powers of his god protecting him.
"Ye blasted hogwallow of a mage!" Thundered the dwarf when he realized what had happened. "When I find ye I'll show ye what cannae be countered, me hammer!" Waving the threatened weapon in the air, Gollon began to stalk about the room. Szanaryth had moved again, and chanting could be heard from near Liathi's body. Afraid of casting anything in her direction, Gollon charged. The archmage, unconcerned, appeared next to Liathi's body chanting a spell. When Gollon was but a tenstep away, the wizard smiled, pointed a finger, and watched in pleasure as the dwarf stopped in his tracks, clawing at his chest.
"You're having a heart attack dwarf, is it enjoyable? You can fall over any moment now, go ahead." Gollon staggered to his knees, catching himself with one hand, and bowed his head. "What is this, you're praying? Just give it up and fall over already stumpy! You've lost!" Stomping over to the dwarf, the wizard put his hands on his hips and glared. "I told you to die you freakish midget!" A curious look came over the wizard's face then, and looking down he saw two long thin blades poking out the front of his chest.
"That was for Liathi, and Dannok, and Braden. . ." Said a choked up voice behind him. Szanaryth's face screwed up a little more as he turned to regard the curious halfling. "Wait, what?" Asked Kitais as the blades passed right through his enemy. "No," he began, stabbing his foe multiple times in the chest. "No, you're not just an illusion! I can see you! I can see the truth, and it says you're right here!" Grinning evilly, the wizard began another incantation, his body transforming into solid iron, and he let his incorporeal state drop.
"Trying to hurt me, little rogue?" He asked in a singsong yet reverberating metallic voice. "You don't stand a chance pygmy." Casually throwing the halfling aside, the wizard began to walk away. Things couldn't have gone better for Szanaryth. He had his youth, he got to kill some adventurers, his undead had proven effective, life was looking up. Until the warhammer hit him in the kidney.
The first thought to get past the pain asked him where his ironskin went. The second told him that doubling over in agony would probably feel a lot better, so be obliged. "You don't throw Kit around like that." He heard from behind him. A decidedly feminine and musical voice spoke through the haze of pain and he realized that somehow, the elf had survived his meteor swarm. Four spheres of painfully searing fire, all impacting on her ribs in the same spot, throwing her far enough to break a child in two on impact, and still she had survived? He wasn't even counting on the devastating burns she'd have had.
"The damned dwarf!" He spat, whirling about to catch another hammer, this time in the shoulder, and saw Gollon advancing with his jaw set firm. Again Kitais came out of nowhere, this time scoring a hit on the archmage's calf since it was both solid and non-metallic. Hissing in rage, Szanaryth lifted Kitais by the neck, incanting a spell with his other hand free. "You try to attack me from behind twice in one day you little weasel, I will make sure you earn the name." This time when he threw Kitais across the room, it was a red and black weasel that skittered to a stop amongst the dust.
"Ye'll pay for that ye spindly frizzy-haired newt." Gollon growled, weaving his arms and shifting his weight as he chanted a deeply complex spell. Szanaryth hissed in contempt when he realized what the dwarf was doing and began his own chant. A shimmering portal appeared between them, filling the room from floor to ceiling. Small sparks of energy flew from its edges and an image of an unearthly beautiful landscape stretched to the horizon. "Moradin, in thy name I call upon thee, lend this servant the aid of thine hosts, send unto me but one of thine angels that we may avenge the fallen and bring their killer to justice." On one knee, Gollon looked up to the gesturing wizard, the gleam of holy fervor in his eyes as a silvery limb slid forth from the oval's glassy surface.
A second rift tore itself in the room, opening as if rent from the surface of reality instead of gently sliding in as Gollon's had. ". . .I call upon you, great Khigara, aid me this once and I shall grant you the freedom you wish. Step forth, and let the world know your name once more!" The nightmarish reality behind the roiling planar rift suddenly disappeared, two blood-red eyes and a massive body blocking all else from sight.
Gollon's lip curled when he saw the demonic countenance slip through the gate into the room, and he backed away carefully, chanting the words to a banishment spell. Before he could finish, Szanaryth drew a rod from his belt and made a flicking motion at the dwarf. A ghastly looking hand, twice the dwarf's size, appeared and wrapped itself around him. A cry of surprise and rage erupted from his mouth when he found himself wrapped in what appeared to be a rotting fist.
A snarl of enmity erupted from the demon's maw when it stepped forth to see a Solar brandishing its greatsword. Its great head swinging around, the Balor glared at its summoner, raising its massive blade. "Nirlic" Spoke the wizard with a sneer, a field of energy covering him from head to toe. "You will do as I asked, and I will see to it that you succeed, my ally. Then you will be free to terrorize this world as you see fit." Pointing to the Solar, he commanded the Balor to keep it occupied. Rolling back his sleeves, The wizard focused on the elven female and began to chant.
"Too late villain, I'll make you pay for what you did to Kitais!" Her hands blurred with motion, Liathi spun her hands in concentric circles and the wizard's robes whipped about his ankles. "I'll beat you to death with your own accursed library if I have to!" The winds became frenzied, suddenly rising from the floor. Books and decanters, glass shards, shreds of paper and smoldering cinders all picked off the ground as a cyclone took shape in the subterranian room. His spell interrupted, Szanaryth tried to keep his footing in the midst of the druid's unleashed fury.
His attempt was foiled however, when a small black form appeared in front of his face, clawing its way through the debris to the heart of the maelstrom. Kitais, 'The Nightblood' who appears from nowhere, latched onto Szanaryth's throat with a feral screech of animalistic rage. All thoughts of balance flew from the wizard's mind as he felt the four little paws tearing at his skin, the teeth trying to find the artery which the roguish mind within knew was so near he could almost taste it.
"Away you little beast!" The mad mage screamed, tearing the weasel from his throat and, with a gleam born of madness consuming his eyes, watched happily as the shattered leg of a table impaled both the creature and his hand. "Got you!" He laughed, losing all sense of direction until he landed on his back against the ceiling. The twister suddenly vanished, leaving the wizard upside down and backward with an impaled weasel stuck to one hand and thirty feet to drop. Immediately he muttered one word and slowed his descent, gliding gently to the ground. Just before touchdown, the mighty blade of the Solar seemingly appeared from nothing and dug deep into his side, severing his arm halfway to the shoulder.
Khigara, seizing his chance, swung at his foe and separated the angel from one of its wings. Normally an even match, for this Balor was certainly stronger than the norm, the Solar had been distracted a split second by the descent of the wizard. A simple sidestep while swinging had allowed the wizard's body to interfere with his strike. Had he stepped the other way, the Balor would be the one in pain. Wrenching his sword free, the Solar went on the offensive, swinging with seeming reckless abandon at the form of his enemy.
A flash of light suddenly erupted from behind the angel, enveloping both it and Liathi in an aura of divine protection. Gollon, one eye swollen shut and looking much like he had been thrown from a city wall, stood in the center of the emanation with a steeled gaze. At the same moment, Liathi completed a spell of her own, calling swarm of elementals to pour forth from a fiery rift. "Ye'll pay for aiding the mage." Promised the dwarf, leveling his warhammer. "I'll see ye banished long enough for me kin t' take up the fight should ye find yer way back."
The Balor clapped its wings and leapt backward, landing near the back wall of the room. Spitting a quick incantation, a wave of dark energy swept out from it in a pulse. In contrast to the holy aura which emanated from the cleric, Khigara was wrapped in a profane aura of darkness. "There is no contract now that the wizard's spirit roams the Hells, leave me be mortals." Glaring at the Solar, knowing himself overmatched against the remaining forces, the Balor dodged repeated swings of the angel's mighty blade as he recited the words to a teleportation spell. Sulphur filled the room, causing the dwarf and elf to choke and cough until the air cleared. When it had dispersed, an act aided by the Solar, the demon was nowhere to be found.
"I must hunt down the demon before it wreaks more havoc in the world." Spoke the Solar, looking at the cleric. "It is doubtful a free Balor would willingly go home when his summoner called him through a gate, more likely he went to do what he had agreed upon earlier, wanton destruction and murder." Before it could leave the room, the towering angel found itself stopped by the elven female.
"Let me take care of that," she said, pointing to the stump where the Balor had cut off his wing. Holding the severed wing, she offered it to the Angel. "By the time you get out, it'll be healed." She said, lifting it again. Regarding her gesture with an arched eyebrow, the Solar permitted her to attach the wing. Softly chanting as Gollon looked around for allies, Liathi's spell slowly knitted the flesh back together. "Be careful for a little while." The Solar nodded, handed Liathi a feather which had fallen from one of his wings during combat, and strode from the room.
"By Moradin's beard lad, what happened t'ye?" Liathi heard as she added the feather to her hair. A rattling of chains sounded from off to her right, and when she turned she saw the wizard's broken body, saw the impaled animal stuck to his hand. A piteous wail caused Gollon to come charging around the corner of the rubble he had been behind to see Liathi cradling the weasel. As she rambled incoherently he caught the gist of what troubled her most, being the one that created the whirlwind.
"I killed him Gollon, I did it, with my magic." The dwarf tried to comfort his companion, but she was inconsolable. "I'll fix this," she swore, stuffing the small corpse into a bag. "As soon as I can collect the necessary herbs I'll bring him back." Gollon nodded, appearing as solid as the stone he was born under. Rifling through the mage's pouches and pockets, he found a key and returned to his labors. A few seconds later, a stooped old man wearing Braden's robes followed him back to Liathi's position.
"We shouldn't dawdle." Said the wizard, laying a hand on the elf's shoulder. "That Balor is free, and the angel may not be enough to stop it." Liathi shrugged him off and stood, holding herself close, arms wrapped about her own torso as if chilled. "Come on, we'll get that little scoundrel back, just you wait. I'll help you gather the herbs. I'm afraid I won't be good for much else at the moment."
"Thanks Braden," she said softly, looking over the poor human's incredibly aged form. "Is there any way to return you to normal?" Reaching a hand up gingerly, she felt the leathery skin of his cheek.
"Not without a spell that I refuse to use." He responded with a half hearted shrug and smile. "Now, let us regroup, recoup, and finish what was started here."
Five days passed before they set out again, seeking information on the demon. Kitais had a greater respect for wizards, Liathi wouldn't let him out of her sight either. Convinced that it was her fault he had died, she refused to let Gollon resurrect his corpse. Relying on her own power, she had reincarnated the halfling. He was still getting used to being human, but she assured him with a wink that he was a short one. Having pored through Szanaryth's lore on the moldy undead, Braden was able to cleanse Dannok's corpse, thus allowing Gollon to resurrect his brother. The warrior never looked at moldy food the same way again.
Liathi had become attached to the halfling-turned-human, Gollon had tried to reverse Braden's aging without success, and the wizard studied his captured tomes. Dannok, once again among the living, immediately took over as leader. With no clue of the path, but a firm goal ahead of them, the five set out to hunt the escaped demon and its minions.
©2005-2006 Vandin Astebrooke
