"Brother!" Niyut cries as the terrifying light pulls at her.
Malthazi, Garidan and Elannaris tumble to the ground from the violent pull of the rift. However, the two half-orc siblings are able to maintain their balance.
The nimble Gruskorb avoided the pull towards whatever calamity awaited him, but he saw some of the others were not as lucky. The half-orc woman has seen her brother fall. She will panic and may run to console herself with him. I'll have to manage the others who can't seem to see this wizard is keeping us alive.
For now, anyway.
Gruskorb had a moment of internal reflection here: Why am I not worried? An uncharacteristic calmness had instilled itself in him, and the choices and observations he made were without fear or reckless expediency.
Do what you can. Worry will not help.
Not quite a voice ... almost like an urge-thought echoed within him. It was not himself, yet in this time of peril, he, by default, took its advice and did not question it.
The hobgoblin, Gruskorb, sets a hand to the ground to stabilize himself as he's dragged towards the rift momentarily but he remains on his feet.
Niyut moves closer to her brother.
"We must do something about that archer! He will be the death of us! Let us do a working like mother taught us."
After having control of her body usurped, Niyut concentrated and took command of the alien magic within her. When her brother begins to chant so does she, weaving his earth magic in to the frosty sorcery.
As the robed man picks himself up from the white marble floor of the grand chamber, he scowls at Alaquendai backing away, "Damn you, wizard. What is this blasphemous sorcerey?!?"
Malthazir's brows furrow in anger at the bugbear. He stands up and points at the creature. "Vdri!" A burst of light golden energy erupts next to the bugbear.
The eagle screeches and falls down upon the robed human with its beak!
As the bugbear is showered with energy, he looks up from the ground at Malthazir just as the golden slumbers fill his eyes. With an echoing thump, his head bounces on the marble floor, followed by the rhythmic droning of the his snores.
The robed man reacts to late to the eagle's diving attack. Blood drips on to his robes as the eagle's beak tears the flesh from the his face.
The archer dispatched, the nimble form of Gruskorb trotted to the East behind the diviner, then forward a few steps. The remaining person which seemed an immediate threat had used chains before; he was perhaps skilled at defending himself from the not-too-dissimilar whip that was employed against him.
His own swing was bad, but it was he would need the man to err in his reflexes as well to score a strike. The Aegean interloper recoiled his weapon and waited for a counterstrike.
Gruskorb circles around Alaquendai and attempts to trip the robed man with his scorpion whip. But the man proves elusive anad deftly steps over the whip as it arrives at his feet.
Across the chamber, Garidan scrambles to his feet and moves further away from the robed man and the rift.
With a gasp of effort, Garidan scrambles to his feet and resumes his head-long flight, desperately seeking someplace within the chamber to hide from the horror behind him. Unfortunately, the chamber's open design deprives him of the concealing shelter he craves, and he is reduced to shivering in a corner.
It is there that the fog lifts from his mind as the smoke's taint finally comes to an end, and Garidan looks around with a blend of shame, confusion, and lingering fear.
"Poor Gari, that stuff really messed with your head."
The faint voice causes Garidan to look around again, a dawning expression of hope appearing on his face. "'Ruza, is that you? Where are you?"
"Later Gari, right now you need to get back into the fight. The 1st Hazard is doing something very important, and you... no, we... can't let anyone distract him."
The reminder draws Garidan's attention back to the center of the chamber, where the fight against the man who drugged him continues. He can't make out the location of the archer he'd seen, but that doesn't he's out of the fight.
For Truk'tosh, his sister's voice rises above the din of the maelstrom.
Nodding in agreement with her suggestion, Truk takes a moment to center himself and reach out to the spirits of nature for aid. He could feel them out there in the chaos, disoriented and angry but alive.
Quickly a corona of dust and grit forms around the half-orc's big hand which he joins with Niyut's. "Now sister!"
The bugbear leaps up off the ground and draws back his bow to fire another arrow at Alaquendai.
At the last moment a screech from the eagle attacking the robed man throws off his ai and the arrow harmlessly passes over Alaquendai's head.
As the siblings magic combines, Niyut hurls a mudball at the bugbear striking him in the leg. He howls in pain, clearly injured from the magical blast.
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From behind the fount, Elannaris watched the combat.
It seems many of them are trying to protect the hazard... it seems the right to do but I'm still not sure how to help...
She looked to the dagger in her hands and sighed.
I should have paid more attention to my martial training when I was a young girl... this will have to be enough!
Elannaris abandoned her hiding spot, jumped over the baluster and moved towards the enemy mage.
Feeling the threat from Gruskorb, the robed man backs away from the hobgoblin and violently swings his spiked chain at the eagle.
The spiked chain slams into the eagle with devastating effect. The bird remains alive but is very wounded.
Now the sleep spell goes off on the bugbear! At the same time the bird returns to the ether, Malthazir's grip no longer able to hold it here.
Malthazir stands up and fires a bolt of acid at the hooded human!
"Enough! You're outnumbered. Drop your weapon."
The man's refusal to do so immediately would necessitate another hindering lash from Gruskorb, seeking to bring the man down. If this hazard is actually against the lot of us, we may need him on our side...
the Bugbear collapses to the floor with a thud, and the eagle returns from whence it came. Almost simultaneously, Malthazir launches a bolt of acid at the robed man. But his aim from the raised diaz is off, and the elf misjudges the distance sending the bolt much too high.
The robed man looks about the room and scoffs at the hobgoblin ordering him to disarm himself then nimbly steps over the whip as Gruskorb again fails to connect.
Garidan briefly examines the actions of those near the chamber's center, watching as multiple attempts to end the human's hositilty, whether by force or reason, come to nought.
Checking his rapier, which he'd somehow had the presence of mind to retain hold of during his heedless flight, Garidan takes another moment to gauge the position of the human relative to his own, then sprints into position. Hopefully, his target will be too distracted by the others to notice Garidan's return to the fight.
As he covers the distance at a steady jog, a small part of Garidan's attention is fixed on that faint murmur within his mind, though he and that voice both agree that further exploration can wait for a better time.
"Stop!" Truk'tosh warns the robed man. "The Hazard is the only thing keeps us all from being sucked into that thing. Disrupt him and you'll kill us all!"
He looks to his clever sister for guidance.
"Brother, we should disarm him. Air and fire could do the trick."
Weaving together strands of air and fire with her brother, Niyut causes the chain to flare with heat and terrible smoke.
The robed man shrieks and drops his spiked chain, but otherwise appears unharmed.
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With her dagger in her hands, the elven woman moves nimbly around the enemy wizard, trying to calculate where his defenses would be more vulnerable.
That creature, the hobgoblin, is constantly threatening him with his whip...
She know her combat prowess was useless but the enemy did not.
Perhaps I can distract him...
"SILENCE, MONGREL! I don't take orders from a half breed. The Bringer of Death guides my actions," shouts the robed man. He backs away from Elannaris pulling a vial from inside his robe. He quickly drinks the contents and begins to glow a soft grey. As the substance courses through his body, he becomes translucent. Then, with a puff, his body dissolves into a mist that rises up to the vaulted ceiling and out of sight.
Malthazir looks around at the rest of the people in the room, hand raised threateningly. He knows some of them seemed to be on the side of reason (or at least self-preservation), but he could hardly take any chances. He stays where he is. "That bugbear won't be down for long, I suggest somebody take a blade to its throat."
As the last enemy standing makes his declaration before fleeing those arrayed against him, Garidan checks his impending charge with a frown. Something about that man's words, specifically the title belonging to the one who supposedly guided him, rang ominously in Garidan's mind, and his inner voice was in full agreement.
"That's not good Gari, he sounded very much like a zealot on a mission. That 'Bringer of Death' thing sounds like something someone would worship, if they were sick in the head."
Garidan nods in agreement as he approaches the slumbering bugbear, rapier still in hand. "You're right, 'Ruza," he murmurs softly. Staring contemplatively down at the unknowing humanoid, Garidan ponders the best course of action. On the one hand, he was an avowed foe of Alaquendai at the very least, and not likely to be a friend to anyone else either. On the other hand, however, the 1st Hazard had surely had a reason for bringing him here, right?
After another moment of thought, Garidan looks at Alaquendai, respect and awe mingling in his voice as he addresses what is quite likely the greatest wielder of magic in history. "Pardon the distraction, sir, but do you want this one dead or alive," Garidan asks as he settles the point of his rapier over the bugbear's right eye, poised for a lethal plunge down into the brain at the merest nod of approval from the 1st Hazard.
While he awaits the decision by which the bugbear's life--or its end--will be settled, Garidan turns his thoughts to that ominous title. That voice, which against all reason or sanity seemed to belong to his sister, was quite correct; it did sound religious, and Garidan's body settles into stillness, eyes going wide and blank, as he recalls the many texts he'd read, trying to remember if 'Bringer of Death' was in any of them.
Garidan inhales and curses loudly in Orcish as his memory brings up the details he sought. 'Bringer of Death' was certainly a religious title all right, one claimed by Archeabus, one of the major powers of the Ealintaine and avowed enemy of Garidan's own patron, Calwein, among others.
Malthazir glances up at the man leaving. An ill omen.
"Indeed, a servant of Archeabus. Have you heard the story of the seven skulls? Oh it's fascinating really, the artifacts of a secret cult from dead gods..."
Malthazir steps back in shock at the voice in his head. As the adrenaline of the fight subsides he begins to feel the pain from his eye as well as blood runs down his cheek. He falls to a knee as his vision flutters. What happened to me?..
Dead... or alive... the creature's life has little bearing on the future I have foreseen... and have failed to prevent. Sending him to his death or into the void would surely be more humane than dwelling upon the Nexus after today.
ARRINGTON!
With the approval given, the rapier in Garidan's hand drops down until the tip grates against bone, at which point he twists the blade once to the left and back before withdrawing it. The bugbear barely has time to twitch before his life is brought to an end that Garidan feels is far better than being consigned back to that horrid abyss of dissolution that he can, mercifully, not quite recall clearly.
The bugbear twitches slightly as his eyes open wide. As his spirit departs, a dullness fills his eyes.
Truk'tosh staggers as a dizziness sets in from the blows to the head he suffered moments ago.
I've got this one boy, the voice chimed in. By Jolnar's will, you and I have got work to do. We can't have you dyin' too.
The half-orc feels some part of his spirit reach out to the divine and a holy symbol that seemed to have found its way to his hand begins to emit a soft glow.
Niyut is too busy healing her twin's wounds to care much about the bugbear's life or death. She was disgusted by the obsequiousness of the swordsman's demeanor to the old wizard.
For all we know he is the cause of all this suffering. Meddling in powers that are beyond him, and bringing ruin down on us all! And yet he is still treated as some great chieftain?
Despite her disgust, she keeps her own council. In her short years, she had found great value in not speaking up and not drawing attention to herself.
Looking about the participants that had a greater impact on the encounter with the eclectic hostiles, Gruskorb felt pushed onward by something within him while they collected themselves.
Go ahead. Ask him.
The urge was clearer now, definitely something beyond his own consciousness. As unnerving as it was, Gruskorb had no particular course of action planned for this unlikeliest of circumstances. Normally, the expert barterer had a contingency for everything; he felt naked without his planning.
So it was he spoke. He set his whip to his hip and turned to the mage.
"What future did you foresee? Are we as expendable as he was?"
"Expendable" was not his own choice of word, but that of the entity within him. What could it be?! If it is abrasive with him, I could die.
Inner calm was his only response.
In the strands of the ether, the future is not yet determined, my young hobgoblin. And you are only as expendable as you believe you are. As for what I have seen... too many things; both good and evil. But I have looked too far and across too many realms of possibilities. I rode the harmonic wave searching the strands of possible futures. There I saw failure and the Ealintaine free from Midian reigning over a dark world... then I saw glory in the defeat of Archeabus and the destruction of the world... then I saw the world as it was, renewed in the spring... but I went to far and I saw the gods. And they saw me. My hold on the ether was ripped from my control as He tried to use me as a conduit to return. I fought him off and returned to a world being torn apart... drawn into the ether and consumed. A few more moments, and the world would have been gone.
ARRINGTON!!! Where is that fool of a gnome?
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As the wizard disappears, Elannaris thinks about what he said.
Archeabus? So this one is part of the Dran Brotherhood? Wait... I do not remember about reading or hearing anything about it... or have I?
Elannaris hears the vague words the Hazard spoke but none of them answered the question she had in mind.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your fury with this bloody gnome of yours but I think more explanation about what happened should be given... I honest care not for what you have seen in your dreams! I just want to know what happened, where I... we are, and how you are going to fix it?"
Even if more used to how the world really is, a faint note of the once spoiled girl is visible through her demands.
For a brief moment, the Hazard turns his gaze upon Elannaris and smile crosses his face. It is now that you notice his lips have not moved. Ah the impatience of youth... My dear, Elannaris, I no longer control the rift. Even now, I struggle to contain it. Your help is needed if we are to close it...
The Hazard's thought is interrupted by a loud commotion echoing through the chamber. A gnome, beyond the southern pillars, gathers up a pile of tomes and manuscripts strewn about the floor...
As Garidan wipes his rapier c!ean and sheathes it, the majority of his attention is given over to considering the 1st Hazard's words, a growing frown appearing on his face as their meaning becomes clear. The voice within is apparently reaching the same conclusion, and neither of them are happy about what that conclusion seems to be.
Gari, I think... I think he's responsible for what happened to the valley, and mama and papa...
The voice is thick with sadness and anger, and Garidan's eyes quickly well up in response, a few tears spilling down his cheeks. Swallowing a few times to clear his throat enough so that he can speak, he points a trembling finger at the maelstrom and asks the 1st Hazard the question that is foremost in his thoughts.
"This... thing, this maelstrom, this is your doing? You're the reason that our home is gone, and our friends... and our parents." The last word is spoken with a barely suppressed sob, and Garidan struggles for a few moments before he can speak again. Curiously, his use of the plural when he spoke of home, friends, and parents doesn't seem to be in reference to anyone else in the chamber, which is made obvious when he continues.
"And I'm guessing that they've all lost family and friends as well," he says with a wave of his hand that covers the others in the chamber. "Tell me, please, are our loved ones safe here in the Tower, perhaps in one of the rooms that didn't have a fight in it? I mean, it's not just us here... Alone..." As Garidan speaks, he has to pause frequently to get his emotions under control, but even so, the rising sadness--and the anger--are becoming obvious to everyone.
The voice in his mind is silent as Garidan speaks, and he gets a faint sense that it agrees with his words, and shares the feelings that drive them, even if the reason and the target alike for those feelings is the legendary Alaquendai himself.
Hearing the 1st Hazard's response to the bright elf's words is the last straw for Garidan. Stressed from the memory of seeing everyone and everything he cares about destroyed, the time spent in the bad place that took his sister from him, and then the fight in the chamber where his mind was subjected to further indignities courtesy of that foul smoke, Garidan's shaky grip on his self-control is finally lost.
Garidan roars at the ancient mage. "The years have obviously taken a hammer to your sanity if you think that any of us have the power or the knowledge to make this glorious little foul-up all better," he says with a deliberately exaggerated gesture that takes in the maelstrom.
As he finishes speaking, Garidan pants heavily for a bit, struggling to bring his emotions back under control yet again. When he achieves a measure of success, he straightens up, gives the 1st Hazard a bow that has scant respect in it, and begins to head for the stairs at the far end of the chamber. "Well, it's been a pleasure, of sorts, to meet a living legend and all that, nice place you've got here by the way, but I'm going to take my leave now. I need to find my sister, and go far, far away from you and the thing that you broke." Garidan smiles as he mentions his sister, but the smile has a disturbing quality to it, and it seems that the young man's own sanity is just as tenuous as he'd accused Alaquendai's of being.
"No, no, no... It is not the Hazard's fault," a spirited gnome responds as he runs into the chamber carrying a wide variety of books, tomes, manuscripts and several scrolls. As he reaches Alaquendai, he drops the libraby at the Hazard's feet, then points at Malthazir. "The elf knows! To create magic, one must tap the ether. You find the reality that contains the essence of that thing you wish to create and draw it forth. Am I right?" he once again looks to Malthazir.
Without waiting for an answer, he continues, "We diviners ride the harmonic wave within the ethereal realm and see all possible realities. We look. We learn. We foresee. But when Alaquendai looked upon the strands of reality, he found Archeabus there. The vile god is the cause of this calamity. He tried to escape Midian by travelling through the ethereal realm... and back to the physical realm by way of Alaquendai's opening!"