Rexil hangs at the back, nervously watching the walls for the emergence of more spectral foes.
The angelic deva stumbles into the room, trying to clear space for everyone to enter. Yet despite her efforts to defend herself while she moves, the Devourer strikes and hits her again!
It's claws smash through her upraised greatsword, locking on to her throat and tearing it out in a spray of blood!
Magic missiles and arrows slam into the undead creature. Magical fire scorches the dessicated body, and it screams in silent agony. It staggers forward a step, long claw reaching outward...then it dies.
Smoke and fire fill the room, Aurora's fireball having set alight the two wooden tables in the back. Suddenly a figure appears at the far end of the room. Tall and emaciated, it wears long dark robes and carries a staff. As it appears, it completes the spell it was casting and points a bony finger at Aurora!
Aurora screams. Her body is wracked with searing pain, twisting and contorting as her muscles spam violently. Her eyes roll back in her head, and she falls gently to the floor, dead.
In an impossibly fast motion, the figure casts another spell, and it's form becomes hazy and indistinct, making it much harder to target.
Lym chants darkly, hands rising and falling in arcane gestures as she targets the thing that has slain not only her contracted ally, but now a good friend as well...!
"Aranea arcanorum rescindenda est!" she shouts -- and hurls magic at the enemy like a scythe!
"Tomaru, if you have more Death Wards, use them and fast!"
Praxim blocks out the death all around him and focuses on the foe at the end of the room. Smite evil!
The first arrow does an additional 15 points of damage from smite.
”Thordak! Eviscerate the bastard!”
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Relaxing as the shadowy creature is slaughtered by the barrage of attacks from his fellow allies, he notices a new 'something' rise up. "Okay, now this I can kill, no prob!" he says before noticing it point in their direction. Curious, he looks back. "What's it doin'?! Why is it pointin'?!" He then notices the lich's objective. Ignoring the magic being cast and the arrows flying past, everything feels as if time has slowed to a crawl for the dwarven warrior as he watches Aurora's lifeless body fall to the ground. Thordak's eyes go wide in absolute shock and he finds himself stunned and at a complete loss on what to do. He then is just about to give up and sit down before the elf's words spark that inner fire that lives within. With an expression of complete sadness upon his visage that easily defines his broken heart, Thordak looks to the elf, to the fallen Aurora, and then back to the elf again as a tear falls down his cheek and into his beard. Not a second later, the dwarf yells and turns simultaneously, heading straight for the lich, unconcerned about anything anymore.
Lym's dispel washes over the lich, but has no appreciable affect on the necromancer's defenses. Praxim and Thordak unleash a hail of violence, but cannot strike a solid blow through the Displacement and Mirror Images on it. If there is a positive, the attacks have shred images like leaves from a tree. There cannot be many left.
Tomaru rushes back to Aurora and casts . "Desna, please." is all he is able to say.
Rexil hurls rocks. They probably won’t hurt it, but might shed some images. He also benefits from Praxim’s aura of care.
None of Rexxil's rocks connect, but they do strip two more images from the lich's defense.
Tomaru rushes back to Aurora and begins casting his spell. Just in the middle of the incantation, just as he is say the finishing word of power, he feels the hot fetid breath of something behind him.
"You will join her today, human." it hisses in his ear as a dagger slips in between his ribs.
The lich cackles evilly. 'Precious to you, was she, dwarf? Fear not, you shall be part of my grandest experiments. You shall all live in undeath for an eternity!"
He points again, intoning words of power. A thin green ray leaps out at Lym, striking her in the chest.
Lym struggles against the power of the spell threatening to destroy her utterly. Summoning all of her strength, she manages to fight back the worst of it.
Instantly the lich casts another spell, this time targeting Praxim.
All goes dark for the paladin.
A dagger in the ribs causes Tomaru some difficulty in casting his spell.
Tomaru uses his last Tugging Strands to keep Praxim firing at the enemy. He then tries to put up a Wall of Stone between himself and his assailant.
Only if Rexil is on his side of the wall and it cuts off the entire room.
Aurora expires.
the over-sized dwarf yells in utter fury as the tears streak down his face. He swings with an absolute reckless abandon at the lich, wanting to destroy this thing if it's the last thing he does.
Praxim panics as his vision goes but feels Desna’s power tugging at him and the darkness fades. With grim determination, he fires more arrows at the lich.
He also takes a 5-foot step towards Thordak and the lich.
Right. Gulp.
Here's hoping he doesn't have more than a 28 Intelligence and Greater Spell Focus...
Rexil sees that something has stabbed Tomaru, so he steps up and takes a big swing through the space of the source of the attack.
Two of Praxim's arrows find their mark, despite his blindness.
Thordak strikes two solid blows as well, wiping the evil grin from the lich's face.
A shriek of feral frustration comes from the other side of the wall as the rogue looses his prey to Tomaru's spell. A frantic scratching and clawing can be heard against the wall's surface.
Lym moves up behind Tomaru, rises into the air so she can aim over him and Thod, and chants a furious - but basic - spell. Three rays of fire go screaming towards the lich...
Figuring that the lich has moved by now, Praxim swallows his fear of helplessness, holds out his holy symbol and channels energy to heal his friends.
”He’s blinded me with a spell. I can’t see anything,” he says with a hint of panic in his voice.
We have to win this so I can bring her back. Tomaru moves behind Praxim pulling a wand out of his haaversack. Once there, he taps Praxim with it. "You work better when you can see." The wand is a Wand of Remove Blindness/Deafness.
One of Lym's flaming rays hits the lich, and he staggers back in pain. He casts a spell, and disappears!
He keeps the same. He can’t see that the lich is gone (or invisible) but he knows that folks still need healing.
Praxim sighs with relief as his sight returns. Seeing no lich, he takes a brief moment to give Tomaru a grateful nod and clasp of his shoulder before he begins scanning for evil in earnest.
Thordak continues to swing with uncontrolled fury in the area where the lich vanished, thinking he's just invisible. "YOU'LL NOT BE GETTIN' AWAY THAT EASY, DEMON!!!"
Praxim senses no evil within the room, however, on the other side of the wall to the right , he detects a strong evil aura.
”There!” he says, pointing at the wall. ”Other side of the wall.”
"The bastard used Dimension door! I'm making a hole, be ready!" Lym shouts, and then she casts.
The dwarf turns his attention to Lym with nothing but anger and hate sketched upon his face. "MAKE IT BIG, LASS! REAL BIG!" the large dwarf tells her, turning his attention back to the wall, ready to pounce with nothing but vengeance on his mind. I will destroy you a thousand times if that's what it takes. I swear by Torag's hammer I will not rest until there is nothin' left of you. Nothin'. Not even a memory.
The spell opens the stone wall into a small crypt. This crypt contains three stone sarcophagi, each bearing detailed carvings of hundreds of capering skeletons and dancing corpses.
"Time to burn," Lym says - and she starts chanting.
”This might not be the lich, but something else undead in one of those coffins.”
Praxim continues to focus on the aura, trying to locate it exactly.
Rexil delays, until somebody tells him the plan. He keeps a nervous eye on the Tomaru wall for signs of a breach.
Tomaru casts True Seeing on Praxim. "Shoot straight, my friend."
Thordak turns to the sarcophagi as soon as the wall opens up and he continues on with his goal of utter destruction of the undead.
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Thordak steps in, the rage of grief burning brightly in his heart, when he spots the lich standing near a sarcophagus to his left. At the same moment, Praxim notes the source of the evil, and shouts a warning.
"Death will be the least of your concerns, dwarf." the lich hisses. "I am Azaven, and I have ruled these halls for ten thousand years. I will make of you an eternal warrior, to serve me forever!" Azaven waves his hand, and springs the trap he had prepared for this moment!
Waves of dark energy fill the room, washing over the dwarf, threatening to steal his very soul...and yet...
Call it strength of will, call it Aurora's spirit protecting him, but the dark power barely phases Thordak. He wades in with his axe. The first blow strikes Azaven in the shoulder, cleaving him to the breast bone. Thordak yanks the axe free, spraying a gout of dark ichor across the ceiling of the room. The second strike takes the lich in the side, nearly cutting him in half.
The ancient wizard crumples to the ground, a look of utter surprise on his face. The evil green light in his eyes locks on the dwarf, then fades...
"This isn't over yet!" Lym warns. "Unless we find the phylactery, the bastard will be back!"
”Will it detect as magical, or evil, or both?”
"I can't detect magic in this horrible place, Praxim. Your evil-detecting powers may be our best bet. If those don't work, we take and break EVERYTHING.
Tomaru... tell me you can bring Aurora and the angel back...?"
The most common form of phylactery is a sealed metal box containing strips of parchment on which magical phrases have been transcribed. Other forms of phylacteries can exist, such as rings, amulets, or similar items.
"I might be able to identify the wretched thing if we can find it. Someone open the sarcophagi and strip the lich's corpse down to the bone."
Feeling an odd sensation, the dwarf thinks nothing of it as he continues his assault. First he attacks each sarcophagus in turn until there is nothing but rubble. He then returns his focus toward the lich again, attacking and screaming: 'DIE!!!' after every swing. And he does so again. And again. And again. And again. And again...
Thordak's assault on the sarcophagi shatters the stone structures into hundreds of pieces. As the final sarcophagus is broken, a dark cloud of evil begins to form over the raging dwarf and the rapidly disintegrating corpse of Azaven. Thordak doesn't even notice...
The cloud forms into the shape of a regal-visaged man clothed in the elaborate robes of a wizard. The man holds a large tome in one hand, and gestures with the other, wrapped in the act of spellcasting. As you watch, the casting reaches it's completion. The man's head arches back and his arms fling out wide as he drops the book. An unseen force grips the man and lifts him, twisting him in a slow circle. His hair turns white, his body becomes emaciated as if a hundred years of wasting hit him suddenly. From his body, a ghostly image of himself oozes outward, and flies off into a structure behind him.
The shadowy image of the sarcophagus Thordak just destroyed.
With the fleshly container gone, and the phylactery destroyed, the soul of Azaven has no where to go. The image of the man looks about frantically. Looking, but not seeing. A growing sense of panic fills the room. It's effects are palpable to you, even in the land of the living.
Then another form appears. This one of a slender, ashen-skinned woman with white eyes. She wears a dark hooded robe-like dress, and carries an hourglass in her left hand.
The red sand of this hourglass fills the bottom. You don't know how you know, but you sense the last grain of the red sand falling to the bottom of the glass.
"Ah Azaven," the woman intones, and her voice is as cold as the grave. 'I've waited so long for you. You who have escaped my wrath for so many millenia..."
The woman stretches out her right hand, and the spectre of Azaven screams silently in terror. He tries to flee, but the woman clenches her hand into a fist, drawing it to her bosom. Azaven's soul is twisted into a ball, and is drawn inexorably into the hourglass.
She turns to look at you, no discernible expression on her face. Each of you sees, in your mind's eye, a similar hourglass, the red sands of each slowly sifting from the top to the bottom.
The she is gone.
"Pharasma," Lym says. "Alright. First we scavenge. Then we retreat to Greed with our dead."