Look What I Found Under a Rock

[LadyTevar]

I think you're out-classed, Rogue.

[Rogue 9]

I know I am; he's a rogue7/paladin 9. That's nowhere near the same league as Nalifan and everyone knew it going in.

I could gather up his post-mythallar stats if you want, which would be a lot closer, but I refuse to acknowledge that that incident ever happened.

[LadyTevar]

Heh. One day I might ask if Imp wants to borrow my Bronze Dragon for one of these tales.

But the really scary one would be Trysandrena, the newest Goddess of Portals. She had to leave Sigil in a hurry, and she's still trying to figure out how to say "Please don't hurt me!" to the Lady of Pain. Think of what happened to the *last* god of Portals, and you'll understand Trys' concern.

I'm still trying to figure out how she would up worshipped by a 'tribe' of Rogue Modrans.....

[Imperial Overlord]

A white stone wall marked the edge of the demiplane. Inside was a garden maze and a sprawling manor house. Above a false sun hung in a false sky while outside, invisible to the naked eye, were the swirling grey mists of the Ethereal Plane. There was a single gap in the wall, a gateway filled with swirling mist. A white coblestone path lead from the gateway through the garden and to the front steps of th manor.

Two gigantic warriors of cast iron guarded the gate. They were fifteen fit tall and cast in the shape of plate armoured men carrying single handed battle axes. They stood as they had always stood, watching the gate with infinite patience. They did not tire, they did not eat, they did not sleep. They only watched.

A giant, hairless humanoid with deep red skin walked through the gate. He was as tall as the guardians, wore loose fitting silks, and was bedecked with gold jewelry. His mouth was twisted in a sneer that revealed cruel fangs and his eyes were the open doors of a furnace. In his hand he held a great adamantine mace with an onion shaped head and a spike on the tip. The air around him shimmered from the heat of his presence. The grass withered and blackened around him.

The guardians were slow while the intruder was as fast as a raging forest fire. He swung his black mace and staved in the chest of iron golem on his right, knocking it to the ground. Another figure stepped out of the mist behind him. It was smaller and even more lethal.

It was white, a white so intense and pure that it seemed to glow. It stood ten feet tall and was roughly humanoid. Its skin was scaled like a lizard, although its head was broad like that of a toad. Its eyes were the red glow of a dying star. Terrible talons tipped its fingers and its powerful jaws were filled with formidable fangs. It had been a master of sorcery and slaughter long before it attained sufficient prowess to ascend to its current form.

One strike from its talon's tore open the hollow warrior's head. Another ripped open its chest. It spat a glob flowing, rainbow coloured saliva into the wound. Raw chaos began to eat away at the warrior's insides. It swung clumsily at the white slaad, but it was as fast as it was deadly. The axe blow struck only air.

The other iron golem attempted to regain its feet. The efreet raised its great mace and smashed its head with a shriek of protesting metal. The warrior fell again. The white slaad struck again and tore off the iron golem's weapon arm as a marble skinned figure stepped out of the void. The androgynous humanoid wore a loose fitting tunic of silk that was as black as its hair and the voids that projected like wings from its back. Stars blazed in the eyesockets of the arcane angel.

The slaad tore apart the weakened iron golem tossed its limbs into the garden. The efreet's mace fell again and again, breaking the limbs of the fallen golem. The bushes around him began to catch fire. Mikos and Trizkel stepped through the gate.

The angel floated into the air. Below him he could see armoured humans pouring from the manse and through the garden maze. Two winterwights, terrible skeletons armoured in ice and crowned in black fire, advanced behind them. Rays of light poured from its wing-voids. The beams caused vegetation to burst into flames and flesh to shrivel. Two men fell from the touch of the deadly rays.

The white slaad strode forward, blasting everything in front of it with magical fire. The efreet trailed the slaad, wary of the killer's power and unpredictable temperment. A gesture from it sent a rolling wall of fire forward in an expanding crescent.

Nalifan, Fadina, and Kaeryn stepped through the gate. "Mielikki have mercy," whispered Mikos.

"I doubt she will," replied Nalifan. "And we're just getting started. We can't rely on the hired help to take care of the job, after all."

As he spoke the wall of fire flickered out and a cold wind blew soot there way. Nalifan intoned a spell and a score of small silvery orbs materialized in orbit around his body. He began running forward. Trizkel and Mikos paced him while Fadina and Kaeryn took up the rear. Unnoticed, Kuuni stepped through the gate and immediately lost herself in the maze.

Three men in plate armour confronted the slaad. It intoned a word of power and the lead warrior fell dead. The other two closed. A swipe of the slaad's claws stunned the first and the second blow punched supernatural talons through the warrior's breastplate. The slaad jerked its arm back, tearing loose the warrior's breastplate and chunks of his rib cage in a spray of blood.

The other struck the the slaad's arm with his great axe, opening a deep cut from which ran thick, black blood. Lightning fast the slaad struck and its great jaws closed. The headless body fell to the scorched grass, blood pouring from it like a geyser. The slaad chewed the head, helm and all, for a few moments before swallowing.

A half dozen men stood hesitating at the edge of what had once been a glade and was now a blackened and smoking ruin. All of them carried weapons bearing strong spells and they were familiar with their usage. Most of them wore armour and their faces were tattoos, ash, and paint. They were men strong in their faith and confident that their mistress was the chosen instrument of their god. Their faith had not prepared them to face death incarnate hand to hand.

The leader was a man who did not plan to live much longer, but to ascend to undeath so he could continue his god's murderous work. He wasn't as spry as he once was, but his muscles were still strong and his mind was filled with cruel wisdom and malice. He was at the height of his power, a soon to be unliving vessel of divine power.

The wound on the slaad's hand closed as the lead priest uttered words that brought down a column of white fire on the slaad. The fire was a white so intense that it was blinding. The heat of the blast struck he priests like a hammer. The slaad walked out of the fading flames with blackened skin that was already healing. It gestured at the lead priest and a ray of utter darkness struck him. He gasped and bloody froth leaked from his lips and into his beard. He fell. The efreet raised its hand and the flames burst around the priests.

Several fell back away from the inferno, uttering spells of protection and shielding. The rest walked out, having previously shielded themselves from fire. The slaad rushed in, almost too fast to see. The arms of one priest flew into the air. His body fell to the ground as the slaad turned to another victim. The efreet's mace came down and a human body was reduced to bone shards and meat paste. He raised the deadly weapon again.

It took but moments for them to finish the priests. The slaad's hide was almost prestine again, the wounds inflicted moments ago were almost gone. A cold wind stirred the ashes. Their gazes swept ahead. The wall-hedge of a maze section, shrivelled and died. Blackened leaves fell and dead branches crumbled as the winterwight walked through them. There was a instant of calm as they sized each other up. Then the gates of Baator opened.

[Imperial Overlord]

Steam rose from the water of the great inlaid bath. Karesh luxuriated in the feel of it on his flesh. Even he was not immune to aches and pains. Some indulgences were worthy of a warrior. The door of the bath flew open. A nervous looking junior priest of whatever sect that served Szarida burst in.

"Lord," said the black clad acolyte, "the house is under attack!"

"What?!"

"Lord, the garden is in flames. Demons are assaulting the house!"

"Does she know?"

"I don't know."

Begone," Karesh ordered the acolyte as he pulled himself out of the hot water. He stalked naked and dripping across his apartments to where his weapons and armour lay. Whatever was coming, he doubted it would be beyond his ability to deal with it.

His armour of blue scales flowed over his skin and adhered itself to his flesh. Tunic, pants, and boots took just another moment. His ragged looking cloak and boar helm followed. He drew two long blades from his cloak and walked towards the front of the manse. It was nothing to him how many of her followers died while he was en route.

As the Master of Ten Thousand Blades girded himself for battle, three combatants engaged each other. The white Slaad's eyes shone for a brief moment with blinding light. The winterwight's ice armour cracked and pieces calved off. Bones broke. The efreet extended his hand and a lance of golden flame bored through the armour, blackening bone and sending steam jetting away from the undead's body.

The malevolent undead leapt forward with speed that rivalled that of its attackers. Icy talons ripped through the flesh of the efreet's left thigh and opened it to the bone. The fire around the great genie died, overwhelmed by the intense aura of cold around the winterwight.

Black fire blossomed around the winterwight's claws and spread over the efreet's leg. Dark red flesh turned ash grey where it touched as the bale fire consumed the efreet's life itself to fuel its growth. The winterwight dodged back to avoid the efreet's mace which smashed into the grass.

That left it open to the slaad. A viscious pair of claw strikes smashed through its weakened ice armour. Already broken and blackened bones crumbled. The white slaad tossed the upper half of the winterwight's body in one direction and kicked the lower half in another.

The efreet waved its hand over the spreading bale fire and the black flames vanished. The grey flesh of its leg returned to life and the terrible, bleeding wound reknit itself. It flexed its leg, testing it. Satisfied, the they resumed their march on Szarida's manse.

The slaad and the efreet were not the only ones slaying. From the wing-voids of the arcane angel came shafts of orange light. The struck the front of Szarida's manse and the cluster of priests massing for a counter attack. Rock exploded, metal ran like water, and humans became incandescent torches. Thick columns of smoke rose to the roof of the sky and began to block the light of the illusionary sun. A full quarter of the garden was either burnt or burning. War had come and was leaving its mark.

The other winterwight passed beneath a tall maple. It's aura of deathly cold left a swath of dead plants behind it. The tree's leaves withered and frost crawled over the dying tree's bark. Empty eye sockets probed the sky. From its vantage point columns of smoke no longer obscured the arcane angel's position. It raised its hand and pointed.

Raw, deadly malice struck the arcane angel. Its void's disintigrated as the limp body fell to earth. The winterwight watched with something approximating joy. It continued onwards, looking for more foes to slay, more lives to end. The wake of the slaad's and efreeti's advance seemed a good place to start.

Trizkel tapped Nalifan's shoulder. "The angel has fallen."

"Unfortunate, but not entirely unexpected. Well, it wasn't like we expected that our summoned allies were going to do all the work."

Zehagel Dreel, high priest of the Lord at the End of Time stepped gingerly onto the rubble that was now the front entrance of Szarida's manse. The heretics would pay for their crimes. Their souls would be consumed by the chosen after their flesh had fallen away. Perhaps they would even fuel his ascension from this miserable, aging body full of aches and pains to that of undying stasis. His smiled cruelly. Watching the torments of others was one of the few pleasures he had left and one that he would retain in the exalted state of undeath.

Something flicked through his vision and the shaft of an arrow sprouted from his eye. The high priest's body sprawled over the rubble. Mikos lowered his bow. "Well, that's one. I guess I'm in the lead."

"There's plenty- ah gods," said Trizkel. The enhanced vision granted to him by the Eyes of Arachnia allowed him to clearly recognize the figure leaping over the rubble. Karesh. "He's here."

"Time to end him," said Nalifan. A cold wind stirred his hair. Frowning the drow turned as the winterwight leapt through dying bushes.

[LadyTevar]

There's a few typos, but DAMN that's a fantastic battle!

[Umbras]

Better a Winter Wight than a Nightshade on Nalifan, but if its keeping him busy for even a few seconds its gonna cost us all.

[Imperial Overlord]

Trizkel sprung between the winterwight and his prey. The drow's left hand blade blocked the winterwight's right claw strike. The left claw struck him in the side, slicing effortless through psi-force armour, and sent him sprawling. Bale fire began to crawl across his chest.

The winterwight ignored its downed prey. The bale fire would finish him. The archer was nothing. The wizard was another matter. The drow uttered a word. There was green flash and the winterwight froze in mid step, transmuted into a statue of translucent glass. Mikos's blade lashed out, shattering the head. "Kaeryn!" Nalifan yelled. "Come quickly!"

"Karesh," Mikos said. Kaeryn was just moments from arriving. "Go." The drow nodded and huried ahead. Kaeryn bent down over Trizkel as the black flame spread.

Words of power left her lips. The fire faded and died. She extended her arm and pulled the psychic warrior back to his feet. "Thanks," he said.

'You're welcome."

"I wish I could teleport here," he muttered. He spoke again, louder. "Fadina, Mikos, Kaeryn. Cover us and give us support. I'm going ahead to help Nalifan. I may give him the seconds he needs." The drow kicked in the power of his ring of flight and sped along just above the grass.

"I take it that was an order, not a suggestion," said Kaeryn who was a little exasperated.

Mikos shrugged. It was close enough to the plan they had agreed to anyway. Bitching wasn't going to change anything. Killing the enemy would.

Karesh was thinking along the same lines as he ran forward. The adventurers were out of sight, shielded by hedges and smoke, but he would find them soon enough. The smoke and foliage would shield him as well. The bodies of the fallen made it clear that the front of the manse was not a safe place to linger. And that the archer was a damn good shot.

He plunged into the garden maze, leaping over an eight foot hedge, dashed across a small square, and leapt the next hedge. There was a small field on the other side. Now blazing bushes, charred bodies, and smoke lay in front of him. The enemy was obviously close.

The efreet stepped through a curtain of smoke and the white slaad followed it. Karesh almost considered retreat. Instead he attacked, the deadly adamantine swords clenched in his hands.

The efreet was too slow hit him with his mace, but the slaad was fast enough to intercept him. Karesh cut of its left hand, opened its belly, and then danced around its left side, keeping it between him and the efreet. Karesh was far too good a fighter to leave himself so exposed.

Dark ichor pumped from the wounds. Karesh opened the slaad's thigh and severed the arm at the elbow. The slaad attempted to retreat. Too late and too slow. The swordmaster opened its throat to the bone and ran it through the heart. He twisted his weapons in the wounds and then slid his blades out of the dying slaad's flesh before it fell. It's accelerated healing would not save it from that.

Fire erupted all around him. He did not care. The efreet was strong, probably a powerful noble among its kind. Its power was not enough to breach his defences. He sped forward, dodged the mace, and sliced its hamstrings. The mighty genie toppled. Karesh jammed his sword in an ear to the hilt. Then he twisted and withdrew the blade and liquid fire spashed his hand. He ignored it.

The slaad's body was already disolving into a pool of multicoloured liquid. The efreet's would soon combust. They had been more challenging than most. Now it was time to find and kill those two drow and all their friends.

Movement caught his eye. A drow wizard in dark robes, surrounded by silver orbs had just entered the other side of the ravaged glade. A very familiar drow wizard. Under his metal mask, Karesh smiled. "No where to fly to now wizard." No friends, no allies. Karesh sped forward. Another victory was at hand.

[Imperial Overlord]

Karesh's very soul was aligned with the powers of destruction. He had transcended the limitations of flesh, becoming an agent of violence and slaughter possessed of supreme skills and a unyielding spirit. Mortal or immortal, supernatural or not, he was the destroyer of all that had stood against him.

Nalifan spoke a single spell, his most recent creation. It was one that was beyond his abilities, a working of high magic of awesome lethality. Only the power granted to him by the Crown of Sorcery allowed him to use the The End of All Flesh.

Blood red runes flashed briefly into existence around Karesh. The living juggernaught staggered and fell to his knees, blood pouring out through his armour and staining his leathers. He fell back and darkness claimed him.

Nalifan held up a black opal and chanted another spell, caging the paragon's soul. The others raced forward to join him, slowing as they saw the bodies. "You won," said Trizkel. "He's dead."

"Yes, along with our allies. Unfortunate. The plan was that they were to draw him out so I would have the opportunity to slay him, but the winterwight's attack delayed us for those crtitical moments. But Karesh is dead. Now we have to kill everyone else, including that bone-hag Szarida. At least twice in her case."

As if responding to the mention of her name, the winds shifted. The hot drafts from the multiple fires was mixing with the demiplanes regulated wind patterns and chaos was the result. A gust shifted a column of smoke, giving the adventurers a clear view of the mansion. It also gave a red haired woman standing in an upper story a clear view of them.

Mikos noted it first and raised his bow. The shot was still at long range and at that distance the enchanted arrow lacked the power to penetrate her wards, shattering inches from her chest. She raised a hand to strike back.

There was no need to issue orders or warnings; the adventurers were already scattering. Kaeryn uttered the iniator to a potent spell and the weave around her bent and twisted, nullifying the spells of others. Szarida finished her spell and the magic shattering working flashed towards Nalifan.

The drow uttered a counterspell and ducked behind one of the surviving hedgerows. The others were taking cover. Let Szarida waste power trying to hit targets she couldn't see while Kaeryn ripped down her defences and slew her body. Nalifan gestured at Trizkel in the finger speech of the drow. Take Mikos and go.

Trizkel didn't bother replying. A single hand gesture and both the drow and the Dalesman slipped forward as Fadina and Nalifan maneuvered. Three on one were decent odds considering how powerful Szarida was and the best move was to let Kaeryn be the anchor and visible target now that she was encased by an antimagic shell that did not restrict her own magics. The Dweomer Keepers of Mystra had some very nice tricks.

Szarida had some of her own and the memory of her previous defeat burned in her memory. She had chosen spells with erasing that particular humiliation in mind. She loosed another spell of disjunction, this time at Kaeryn who was standing out in the open. The antimagic shell failed in burst of emerald light. She was naked to Szarida's power.

If Szarida had been a little wiser, she might have considered the possibility that her opponents might have anticipated her strategy and used Kaeryn and her antimagic shell as bait. "Hello," said a high pitched voice to her right. She started to turn her head as steel pierced her throat.

Blood gushed forth as she finished turning to see Kuuni, standing perpendicular to her. The magic of her shoes allowed her to easily adhere to the wall. "Surprise," said the svirfneblin, the long bladed dagger that had sliced so easily through Szarida's wards held casually in her right hand. "Bet you weren't expecting little old me." The blade entered Szarida's eye and she knew darkness.

Down below, Trizkel and Mikos ran to the breach in what had once been an elegant manse. Dead bodies were strewn over the rubble and blood pooled in craters and depressions. The sure footed adventurers didn't slow. A dozen odd cultists massed just inside the breach waiting for them.

A forked bolt of violet lightning crackled towards them. Mikos leapt away, avoiding the worst of it as tendrils of electricity brushed against his left arm and left several painful burns. The sorcerous lightning splashed harmlessly off Trizkel. He vomited forth a stream of acid at the black robed wizard that burned a hole in his chest that went down to the spine.

Mikos put an arrow through the gorget of one man, a shaft through the arm of another, and drove a shot through the breastplate of the third. Then they were among them. Swords are not the best weapons against plate armour under normal conditions, but augmented strength and the magic worked into their blades made them terrible weapons, especially in skilled hands.

The adventurers hacked into the cultists. Axe swings and mace strikes that were sluggish in comparison were easily avoided. Exposed limbs were struck and blades stabbed into gaps in protection. The wounded staggered back and the line began to crumble. That's when the kililng began in earnest. Limbs flew, heads rolled free of torsos, and blood poured from holes in armour. It was over in moments

The Dalesman and the drow finished the wounded with a few methodical strokes. Mikos nodded, signalling his assent with proceeding. Both of them pushed ahead, lopping into the interior of Szarida's home and searching for their prizes.

[The Nomad]

Wow that was quick...
So Karesh's soul is now trapped ? Huh Soul Bind is a bitch...
I wonder if they would give him a weak body just for the kick of torturing him at their leisure...
Though I guess even a rabbit would become a fearsome foe if possessed by Karesh's soul.

[Xon]

Karesh's soul should make for a handy paperwieght.

[LadyTevar]

The efreet was too hit him with his mace,

Umm.. Typos?

But FANTASTIC Story!! Down like a Bitch!

[Imperial Overlord]

"Where to now?" asked Mikos. Kuuni was somewhere, searching for the phylactery and the clone vats. Trizkel and he were supposed to kill the demilich and find Sylvetria, a task made easier by the Eyes of Arachnia that was grafted to Trizkel's head. The spell chuckers were to follow up as back up and smash through any concentrations of the enemy. That was the plan. It was working okay so far.

Trizkel didn't need to turn his head to look in a particular direction. He saw in all directions at once, with an accuity far beyond that of a human could ever manage. "These walls are too thin to block the radiations from active magic. There's something ahead, a series of wards over the floor."

The area Trizkel pointed was further down the hall. A closed pair of walnut stained double doors with flowering vines carved around the boarders barred their path. The adventurers loped forward.

Beyond the door, the Dead Prince strode through the halls and his entourage of skeleton warriors mached their lord's pace. They had been his retainers in life and had followed him into death. He hated this place. Szarida possessed great knowledge on ascending to true immortality, but she insisted in indulging all the pathetic vices of the living. This place should have been a fortress-monestary. Instead she had made a pleasure palace. Now they were all paying the price for her flesh loving weakness.

Comfort and fatigue were irrelevant to the undead. He and his followers were always garbed for war. Armour of mail and plate was half concealed under robes of gold and ebony. Maces, axes, and swords were sheathed or readied in hand. There was one vice left to the Dead Prince and the the men he had lead into undeath: killing.

Mikos kicked the door open and came face to face with the fleshless skull of a skeleton warrior. The Dalesman reacted first. He kicked the skeleton in the chest, knocking it back among its comrades. He took a step back and shot the adjacent skeleton through the thigh, breaking the bone and dropping it and giving him a moment of breathing room.

A gout of acid consumed the nearest standing skeleton warrior as Trizkel barrelled forward, a sword in each hand. He moved inside of an axe strike and stabbed Mind Eater through a gorget, severing the spine and decapitating the undead. He kicked another one in the shin, shattering it. The Dead Prince stepped back as his retainers took the charge.

Mikos placed a fire arrow in the skull of another skeleton warrior, blasting the skull to smithereens. The corpse warriors mobbed Trizkel, but the drow was used to close quarters fighting. His combination of speed, strength, and visciousness made him utterly deadly. But he could not steal vitality from these enemies and even his abilities had limits. As he kicked one skeleton away and severed the axe wielding forarm of another, a heavy mace blow caught him from behind on the left shoulder.

The blow would have reduced the collarbones of a mail armoured man to splinters and his flesh to jelly. Trizkel's armour of psychic force granted better protection than even dwarf forged plate. His bones survived. His balance did not. The force of the blow knocked the drow off his feet. He rolled, slashing at ankles and legs with enchanted steel. He was in a very bad spot. In a few seconds, they would start landing heavy blows and those would either kill or cripple him.

Blazing shafts severed the spine of one warrior and expoded the skull of another beside it. Trizkel took advantage of the opening and rolled away from the undead mob. Miko's actions had left him open to the charge of a skeleton warrior armed with a great sword. The archer leapt back, dropped his bow, and drew his swords. He sidestepped the next blow while redirecting the sword away from him with his shortsword. As he did so he brought his longsword down before the undead could recover the swing and sliced through its forearms. He finished it with a backhand, upward swing that decapitated it.

An axe opened a bloody wound on Trizkel's right arm and a mace clipped his left leg, but the psychic warrior managed to roll free. He regained his feet and blasted the closest skeleton warrior in the skull with a gout of acid. The undead collapsed. Mikos flanked one of the remaining attackers as Trizkel faced another. All the other undead, except the Dead Prince, were either destroyed or crippled.

The Dead Prince had retreated from the melee. The adventurers were obviously extraordinarily lethal and his retainers were no match for them. With the same callousness that had resulted in him dragging them with him into undeath, he sacrificed their unlives. A ball of hellish red flame appeared in his hand and he threw it down the corridor.

Both adventurers saw it coming and dived to the side. The ball exploded in a blast of hell red flames and utter darkness. It turned bones to char, wood to ash, and metal to liquid. Mikos and Trizkel managed to avoid the worst of the blast and enjoyed the benefits of protective magics, but were far from unscathed. Swaths of skin were blackened and pealing, exposing seared flesh. The pain was excruciating.

But not crippling. Mikos' dive had taken him close to the place where he had dropped his bow. He rolled and seized the enchanted weapon, firing on his back with his bow perpendicular to the floor. His shot flew down the corridor and exploded against the Dead Prince's left shoulder in a burst of flame. The undead ducked into another corridor, evading the adventurers.

Trizkel drained a metal flask and then another as Mikos stood guard. Then the Dalesman did the same. The potent healing droughts reversed much of the damage they had sustained, but traces of their wounds remained. Trizkel removed a handful of grey stones from a bag and held them in his hands. He drained them of their last remaining traces of energy, partially refilling his own resevoirs of psychic power, and they fell into dust which trickled from his hand. The Dead Prince and the wards awaited ahead. Weapons at the ready, they advanced.

[Imperial Overlord]

Mikos peaked around the corner. "No sign of him."

"Leave him," said Trizkel. "He's not a priority."

"I know. I'm still going to wreck him if I get the chance. Take your look. I have your back."

Trizkel walked ahead to where he saw the wardings through the walls of the house. A door blocked his path. He kicked it open and peered inside. A white tiled room lay inside. Three tables dominated the floor, which sloped slightly down towards a small drain in the center. The tables were clean, but the blood grooves and the straps revealed their true nature. Shelves contained trays of gleaming, sharp knives and specimen jars. The room was spotlessly clean, but the smell of old blood lingered. A single iron door holding enough magical power to obliterate Trizkel stood in the far wall.

"This is the place." Trizkel sent a quick series of images to Nalifan's mind. Most people would have found it a confusing jumble, but the arch-mage's intellectual prowess was almost equal to his boasts. "Leave it to the spell slingers. Let's hunt." With that they left the room to stalk the corridors.

Nalifan, Kaeryn, and Fadina skirted the blasted gap in the floor as they followed their comrades trail. "What do you think it is?" Fadina asked.

"Clone bank or cells," Nalifan replied.

"What do think the odds are she's grabbling another body from in there?"

"Low," said Nalifan. "Its a bad move. It leaves her demilich body and phylactery helpless while we rampage through her home. Our odds get better if she does that. No, she'll go after us in her true form. However, there is a chance that she might be able to project her soul from her phylactery into one of these bodies. We need to be thurough. There's a limit to how many times we can kill her and not loose anybody."

The spellcasters entered the vivisection room. Kaeryn let out a whistle as she saw magics on the the door. "Now that's a warded door."

"Yes," replied Nalifan, "but the wards are tied to the door."

"Right," said Fadina. She uttered a phrase and a beam of green light struck the door, reducing it to a few motes of green light and a pile of dust.

Nalifan nodded. "Good work." He took the lead down the steps that were revealed behind it. They descended into a circular chamber of smooth black stone lit from above by a pale glowglobe. Set into shallow recesses along the wall were a score of thick glass vats, each containing a nude female form. Although there was some variation, each body was sleek, strong, and beautiful.

"Twenty different bodies," said Kaeryn, "twenty more victims."

"Flesh to order," said Fadina. "Already perfect. Use and discard as it pleases you. You want more variety? Take more victims."

Nalifan moved in closer to examine the vats closely. The complex play of magical energies would daunt less mages, but they were easy for any of the three adventurers in the room to read. "Hmm. The bodies are placed in biological stasis, but not temporal. That's why the preservative fluid."

"Easy to destroy," Fadina remarked.

"Yes. No sense in lingering. We have a lot of work left. I'll do it." Fadina and Kaeryn retreated up the stairs. Nalifan waited a moment and then followed. At the top of the stairs he utter the initiator to spell he had mastered years ago and that had served him well. A streak of blue-white fire sped into the vat chamber. As Nalifan turned to leave it detonated with a low roar. Tongues of flame licked up the stairs. "Three down, three to go."

[The Nomad]

Huh... I didn't get something. Those were the cloned bodies of Szarida's prisoners, not the prisoners themselves ?

[Imperial Overlord]

Huh... I didn't get something. Those were the cloned bodies of Szarida's prisoners, not the prisoners themselves ?

She possesses blank clones to hide her true nature and to enjoy all the good things in life. That's why the body was mindless after Kaeryn's antimagic shell disrupted the possession. No one is home inside. No resistance to the possession. And if you like one model in particular, you can crank out as many as you like.

But it takes a while to grow them and sometimes things go wrong in the process. So you had better make sure to prepare a bunch ahead of time if you want to use one on short notice.

[The Nomad]

Yeah I had understood the whole theoretical process. But what I hadn't got was whether the bodies they had just destroyed were the clones or the originals.

[Imperial Overlord]

Yeah I had understood the whole theoretical process. But what I hadn't got was whether the bodies they had just destroyed were the clones or the originals.

The originals get sliced and diced into raw materials, the pieces stored to grow more clones. When she runs low on raw material for a body she likes, she cuts up a clone for more parts. That's why the vivisection room with the storage jars is right up stairs.

[The Nomad]

Yeah I had understood the whole theoretical process. But what I hadn't got was whether the bodies they had just destroyed were the clones or the originals.

The originals get sliced and diced into raw materials, the pieces stored to grow more clones. When she runs low on raw material for a body she likes, she cuts up a clone for more parts. That's why the vivisection room with the storage jars is right up stairs.

Ouch... gruesome...
I would have thought maybe the originals were kept under temporal stasis until needed, in order to keep the blood fresh, so to speak... But I was wrong... Urgh...

[LadyTevar]

Other than one typo that was fantastic.

"Right," said Fadian. He uttered

And I told you it was a good idea for Kaeryn to make up so many Potions of Xtra Healing One of the main reasons I took Brew Potions in the first place.

[Imperial Overlord]

The priest's hands shook as he gripped his mace. "How bad do you think it is?"

The other priest hefted his great axe. He was even bigger than his friend, who was not a small man. Indulgence of the flesh was forbidden by their order, which forbade sex, fine food, and acohol; but allowed all forms of cruelty and sadism. Rigorous physical exorcise had made them strong and skilled warriors, the products of a doctrine which named the flesh as a mere instrument of the (soon to be) undying will. Black plate armour and sylized skull make up made them appear almost identical "Bad. They got here and they're not dead yet. It's bad."

The first priest nodded. "Yeah. I guess our odds of transcending life just got worse."

"Zabon," said the other priest, "we can fight the enemy or answer to her."

Zabon said, "you're right. If they live, they can be killed. If they're undead, they can be brought to heel." Feeling a little better the two priests continued down the hall.

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

Mikos stopped just before the corner and held up two fingers. Interrogation, Trizkel mentally sent. We want them alive. The Dalesman nodded and knocked an arrow.

Mikos leaned around the corner. Two death priests in black plate about twenty feet away. Bodkin pointed arrows from a Dales longbow could punch through most armour, but even at close range penetrating plate was hard.

Mikos put a shaft through the mace wielder's left thigh. He screamed and toppled. The axe wielder rushed forward to cleave the Dalesman in two. Trizkel came around the corner, mongoose fast and wolverine mean. He hit the axe wielder with a shoulder rush and knocked him to the floor.

The mace wielder had finished a healing chant and had regained his feet. Mikos shot him in the gut and he doubled over. A few running steps and a kick to the head knocked him down. Trizkel was astride the other and methodically twisting limbs until the bones broke.

Mikos pulled out a long, thin blade and stabbed the priest through the visor and twisted. He pulled the weapon out and turned to Trizkel. "Going to crack him?"

"He's resisting." The psychic warrior poured more energy into his probe. "This is going to take a while. Cover us."

The Dalesman already had his bow in hand. "So tell me," Trizkel said softly to his captive, "where the prisoners are kept. Tell me where I can find Sylvetria."

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

She had lost track of time in this place. The needs of her body were her only indications as she hung suspended from chains. A priest would come every so often and give her water and spoon feed her gruel. Then they would carve more flesh off her and heal her wounds so they could come back and do it again. There was only light when the priests came.

What she was of herself during those periods wasn't pretty. He legs were caked his filfth and although the magically healed wounds tended not to scar, she was acquiring a lot of them. There was a tub beneath her to catch blood and bodily wastes, that was changed every now and then.

How much longer would they keep her around before they decided to kill her? Her strength was leaving her, her muscles atrophying. She heard footsteps outside her cell. Another visit. Another session with the knife.

[Imperial Overlord]

Sylvetria blinked as the door opened and a priest with a painted face stood in the threshold. The knife again. Then an arrow sprouted in this throat and he toppled. Hope, the tatters of which she had clung to, burst into full bloom. A brief, shining moment, as fragile as a flower. The sound of foot steps grew closer and then Trizkel was in the doorway.

"Triz," she croaked. The drow warrior stepped forward.

"I'll get you down," he said softly, his face twisted in rage. His voice was gentle. "Take you somewhere safe. This will be all over in a moment."

Iron bent in his grasp and he pried open the manacle holding her left arm. "You'll be okay. We have a priestess with us. Potions. Everything will be alright."

"A sword," she croaked as she fell forward into his arms.

"Yes, that too." She gripped him tightly.

"I have to get the ones around your legs. It'll be a moment."

As Trizkel freed Sylvetria, Mikos stood with his back to the cell, watching the hallway. "Hurry up," he muttered. Trouble could arrive at any moment.

Truer words had never been spoken. The cells were arrayed along on arm of a cross shaped corridor junction. If the adventurers were arrayed along the "north" arm (which was how Mikos mentally mapped it), the Dead Prince was creeping along the "west arm" with another blast of hellish energy glimmering on his gauntlet. Despite the weight of his armour, the undead royal was quite stealthy.

He had known they would come to try and free the meat from the cells and so he had tracked back here to ambush them. Emotions such as love and loyalty were such pitiful weaknesses. He would blast them again and if they survived it, finish them hand to hand or with his magic. He would savor their deaths and let them know the despair as death rushed to claim them before ending them. So perished all flesh.

That's when the rest of the adventurers moved into the "east" corridor. All of them reacted in a fraction of a second. The Dead Prince hurled the blaze of crimson energy at Nalifan, Fadina, and Kaeryn. A counter spell from Fadina disrupted the magic in a brilliant flare of power.

Nalifan's spell filled the corridor with a flash of violet power which staggered the undead and left the Dead Prince temporarily helpless. A distortion of crackling power hovered between Kaeryn's fingers. The priestess focused the deadly energies on the undead.

For a moment nothing happened and then the Dread Prince contracted in on himself, tearing his unliving body apart as bones tore themselves away from their contact points and splintered into pieces. Steel shrieked as his armour twisted and crunched as everything collapsed into the center of mass for a brief moment. Then the remains hit the floor.

"Impressive," said Nalifan.

"Thank you," said Kaeryn. "Tricky to maintain though." She paused for a moment, the air betwen her fingers full of distortions. "Do you have another target?"

A column of floating bone floated up the "south" corridor. It was an ivory white spinal cord, with several segments replaced by huge diamonds. I pair of large rubies were fitted to the top, glowing like the eyes. "Oh gods," Mikos whispered as its gaze fell upon him.

[LadyTevar]

.... Mikos? It's 'oh shit'. And then you hopefully don't shit your britches.

Impy, I'm sitting here shivering, just from the mere description of the demilich.

[Imperial Overlord]

.... Mikos? It's 'oh shit'. And then you hopefully don't shit your britches.

Impy, I'm sitting here shivering, just from the mere description of the demilich.

Thank you for the feedback, gracious lady. I was hoping for that reaction, but not confident that I would get it.

[Imperial Overlord]

Kuuni slid around the perimeter of the spreading pool of blood, softly humming to herself. She was invisible again, courtesy of her ring. The three dead priests hadn't seen her until she had struck and that had been far too late.

It was very convienent that most people didn't have permenent spells to see the invisible like Nalifan did. Of course, it was very convienent that Nalifan could see her and shape his blasting spells not to hit her. A very cozy arrangement in her opinion. Communication was almost unnecessary between them. They naturally worked together as a single lethal organism with four bodies.

She trotted around the corner and then peaked into the next room. Soft lighting from light globes floating near the ceiling, comfy chairs and shelves and shelves of books. And no exits, other than this door, but there should still be some room left at the back, because they were right at the far end of the house and the room wasn't quite big enough. She raised the lense of seeing and scanned the room.

Ahh. What a surprise. The old swinging bookshelf trick. That one was old when the orcs first came to Toril. She trotted over and looked for a switch. Really, did she think this would fool anyone? Although the death rune was a nice touch, but there were ways around that.

She flicked the switch with her dagger and the deadly energy discharged into the deadly weapon. Easy easy. Kuuni gripped the shelf and pulled.

It swung open to reveal a small room with a pedestal in the center. A single bright red gem glowed softly in a setting of gold on the top of the pedestal. Heaped around the base were bracers, rings, amulets, and talismans just like Nalifan had said there would be.

Kuuni slipped closer, stepping over a glyph of lightning. The gem was the phylactery that was a container for Szarida's soul. Along with her soul gems, this would allow the demilich to survive and regenerate a new body if she was slain. It would be hard to destroy. Good thing shei had a really magical dagger, but doing it another way would be funner.

She plucked the gem from the setting and tossed it on the nearly invisible lightning glyph. Blinding light filled the room. Kuuni blinked for a few moments, getting her vision back. Blackened pieces of the gem remained on the scorched floor.

Kuuni smiled and began whistling. She opened her bag of holding and began piling all the pretties into the extra-dimensional space. She sinched up the sack and stepped over the now discharged lightning rune. Time to find the others. That shouldn't be too hard.