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The black bolt burrows deep into Nnn'tkklik'l thoracic cavity, leaving behind a trail of rotten chitin and blackened tissue as it goes. In an instant, the thri-kreen knows he is dying.
That certainty spreads like an echo through the shuddering collective, which seems to flex in its death throes along with the kreen. Raun feels it, the loss stoking her rage as she flails at the looming shadow with her cracked hammer. Gorkhan shivers as the connection fades, a half-forgotten voice whispering <<too slow, too slow>> as if the templars were coming for him again.
Woki feels an unfamiliar panic and calls for the spirits to help, though he knows they cannot reverse the death magic wielded by this unnatural thing. Daina flings fire as her connection to the others is ripped away, leaving her alone as she was so many nights in the slave pens outside Urik.
Grit cowers, undone by the creature's fearsome gaze and the realization that his oldest friend is dying, beyond his ability to save. His anguish washes through the discordant echoes of the collective, charging the frayed web with a vibrating power that stirs in Nnn'tkklik'l as he is swallowed by the black.
The thri-kreen's hearts stop, two blackened, rotting fruits. A final thought forms, reverberating along the slender thread connecting Nnn'tkklik'l and the fiend: <<Eat, clutch-mate. Share in this kill, as eater and eaten.>>
In a rush, the rot devouring the thri-kreen's hearts reverses course, flowing through the widening tendrils of the collective to its source. As it does, the deadly spell picks up shades of emotion, ghosts of grief and loss. It carries not just death, but the mortal pain death brings to others.
The transformed bolt buries itself in the umbral fiend. The demon stops, frozen, as its immortal flesh -- death made manifest, a blackness that has never known life -- absorbs the collective pain of mortal loss. It recoils, black flesh boiling away like a paradox devouring itself. Its screams echo silently through the chamber as the darkness burns away into nothing, erasing it and its spawn from the dust-filled chamber.
The staccato beat of Nnn'tkklik'l's hearts echoes in your ears.
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I cant tell iff Nnn is alive or dead yet, but i will wait to see based on the actions of others.
As his unnatural fear begins to subside grit stands up out of the stone he was partially merged with and regards the large chamber looking for further enemies. His mind tentatively feels for the connections of the collective that have become so comforting to him and for the consciousness of his old friend Nnn. He feels a mental tug from Ral, but knows that connection exists outside of the collective and so is not yet reassured. He mentally reaches out more firmly for the minds of his friends as his eyes move to the breached gate and what might lie beyond.
The staccato beat of Nnn'tkklik'l's hearts echoes through the collective.
Woki grimly nods at the darkness from beyond burns into nothingness. <<The spirits are appeased. The unnatural is back beyond the veil.>>
It was a pretty giant tigone....
Woki grimly nods at the darkness from beyond burns into nothingness. <<The spirits are appeased. The unnatural is back beyond the veil.>>
As vision returns to the segmented eyes of the 'kreen, Nnn'tklikk'l shakily stands, two clawed hands using his staff as a cane and another held over the blackened spot in his carapace the blackened ray passed through.
The remaining claw pointed towards the fallen villichi.
<<can save girl. Maybe. Must hurry.>>
The kreen shuffles over to the girl's body, drawing out the blade and placing a claw over her head and one over the hole from whence he drew the blade.
A feeling of hope is felt through the collective as the kreen draws the recently departed spirit back into the girl's body, leaving her unconscious, but alive.
<<maybe now we break blade. So no more seal-brraking. >>
As the beast's foul presence fades, the huge form of Raun simply collapses, limp as a noodle. After a moment however an eye slowly opens, her head lifts, and she looks around. "Still Alive?" she says uncertainly. She'd been almost certain she wouldn't survive...
Slowly, tiredly, she shuffles over to peer down at what Nnn was doing, and then slowly look around the room, and finally shuffle over to peer down into the whole where the creature had burst forth. "No more seal to break..." she observes sagely.
As he realizes that the collective is still in place and it appears his companions are all still alive Grit breaths a sigh of relief audibly to the group. <<Well done my friends. I am glad you are all still with me.>>
The villichi's eyes open briefly as she gasps for breath. Nnn'tkklik'l sees deep pain there -- she knows, on some level, what she has been forced to do -- but he soothes her with a touch and she drifts into unconsciousness. He leaves her sleeping while he joins the others at the jagged-edge pit where the fiend had been entombed.
Empty, it contains no portal or anything the indicate it once held a demon from beyond. The sides of the hollow are laced with veins of crystal, now dim and lifeless. But the psionically-active in the group can tell they once pulsed with power.
<<Many of our order gave their lives to power these wards>> the Warden says. His voice is fainter, tired, but he sounds satisfied. <<Now there is nothing left to guard.>>
<<There may be a few secrets left>> the Champion replies. <<The grandmaster was always evasive when the novices asked about the catacombs beneath the quartermaster's tower ... and there was that vault near the wellhouse ...>>
<<Let us hope neither holds anything so sinister as this, then>> the Warden says. <<I think perhaps it is time for us, and our order, to bow to the inevitable.>>
Both voices go quiet after that, though you sense both remain, contemplative, at least for the time being. Robbed of it prisoner, the citadel seems suddenly empty, a lonely place that has endured long past its time.
You notice a faint shimmering in the air over the body of the Viper.
You notice a faint shimmering in the air over the body of the Viper. It's a scrying sensor, from a greater scrying spell.
<<some shimmer over body of Viper.>>
"Nnn!" Daina quickly goes over to him to make sure he's alright. She felt the claws of death closing in on him, but the pacifist struck the killing blow. She smiles and gives him a nod, then looks to where he is pointing.
Daina pales. <<We're...we're not done yet. There is a scrying sensor from a greater scrying spell over the body of the Viper. Do not talk aloud. We should take what loot we can and leave quickly.>>
<<Dote>> Raun's mental voice sneers, he hammer rising to her hands as she glares in the direction of the dead half-elf.
<<Heal as best we can. Grit rumbles through the collective. I would finish this necromancer once and for all if he is foolish enough to give us the chance.>>
"Do not trouble yourselves. You have nothing to fear from me ... here."
Barely above a whisper, the voice nevertheless carries clearly to each of you. It seems to emanate from the scrying sensor, which floats closer as the voice -- apparently from a message spell -- continues speaking.
"Your victory was impressive. Few in this dying world have the power required to defeat a demon from beyond the Black - even one obviously weakened by centuries of imprisonment. I am glad that I did not underestimate your abilities after observing your handiwork in Tyr. To delve into the Maw and emerge alive requires talent. Your defeat of Lord Sanet proved your mettle, but I was unsure if you would emerge from this battle alive."
The voice's next words betray a hint of frustration.
"Your tenacity in tracking down and destroying Kalak's clones was unexpected, though it served my purposes well enough in the end. But I knew I couldn't have you wandering around Tyr, meddling, while I prepared my own exit."
"I had learned of this place during my ... interrogation ... of the spirit-stone I found in the Maw. It took some effort to set things in motion, but the sacrifice of time and a few minions was worth it, in the end. Your absence and the Council's preoccupation with the war with Urik made it a trivial thing to raid Kalak's vaults and obtain the spellbooks and other valuables I will need to carve out a place for myself, far from Tyr."
If a disembodied voice could smirk, this one would be grinning like a well-fed zhakal.
"I do not intend for our paths to cross again. You have proven yourselves, and earned the right to your own future. I have, as well, but I will not hesitate to defend myself should you decide to come sniffing for my trail. Death is the only thing waiting for you at the end of that path."
There is a pause before the voice returns.
"Go back to Tyr, or some other city that strikes your fancy. Tell the tale of your victory here. Grow old and fat. Take what you can from this dying world and leave me to mine ..."
"We will not speak again."
"Not likely..." Raun mutters her stubborn reply, before striking at the sensor with her hammer
The sensor shatters under Raun's hammer, leaving silence in its wake.
Somewhere in the Tablelands, Dote Mal Payne awaits, spinning plots thicker than a silk wyrm's web.
For now, you're at the edge of the known world, with a citadel of the ancients to explore. Perhaps the necromancer can wait until tomorrow ...
~~Fini~~