27 March, 103 CY (Continued)
The hobgoblin patrol was not up to the task set to them by their commander. They choked the hallway, leaving the party’s ranged combatants free reign to lay down the pain. The outcome was a foregone conclusion. After pulling their weapons free from the body of the last hobgoblin, they once more ascended the stairs and took refuge in the secret armory.
28 March, 103 CY
The party returned to the dungeon’s lower level to discover that all of the hobgoblin corpses had been removed. They cautiously entered the eastern guard chamber and considered their two remaining paths. The hallway exiting to the east of this room and the double doors at the bottom of the steps heading east from the zombie infested chamber far to the south were as of yet unexplored. Syler wanted to go to the doors, but Tolis-Va suggested the nearer course. The others were inclined to agree with the elf. The halfling rolled his eyes and shrugged, taking point with the elf.
The hallway was only perhaps fifty feet long, but it was not a dead end. An opening on the south hall revealed a shorter corridor opening into a lit room with a large table and several chairs. Just past this opening, a pair of double doors rested in the north wall. The scouts entered the southern corridor and began moving quietly down it. They’d gone no more than fifteen feet before the flagstone beneath their feet shifted. Ahead, a heavy iron portcullis slammed down, sealing the passageway ahead. They winced at the noise and as Balasar and the others moved around the corner with the light, Syler and Tolis-Va looked down at the floor more closely. They saw that the wide flagstone upon which they stood appeared slightly misaligned with the others around it and was currently depressed slightly into the floor. Nervously, they stepped back off of it, but there was no apparent additional consequence.
The dragonborn warrior moved up to the portcullis and got a firm grip on the bottom. He heaved the portal upward, his muscles straining as he lifted the portcullis up and over his head in a single attempt. The others filtered past him, and he pulled a javelin out, intending to rest the heavy gate upon it when he lowered it. To his surprise, however, the portcullis locked in place after he lowered it about an inch.
They paused a moment to take in the details of the room. A massive oaken table scarred with burns and dagger cuts dominated the chamber. Several mugs and crumbled parchments lay scattered across the table’s surface. In the southeast corner of the room were stacked more boxes and crates of what appeared to be foodstuffs. There were two exits from the room, a door to the east and double doors to the south. They considered the unnatural quiet of the room considering all the noise they’d just made for but a moment before all the doors in the chamber slammed open. A tall hobgoblin followed four grunts out of the southern chamber, while three other soldiers emerged from the door to the east. The tall hobgoblin brandished his spear as he leaped up on the table, and two of the soldiers rushed Tolis-Va.
The elf managed to dodge the heavy flail of the first, but that gave the second the opening it needed to whip the chain upward to slam the elf in the chest. Syler, hidden from the sight of the hobgoblins in the south half of the room tumbled forward and under the great table, flicking a shuriken into the throat of the grunt that had flung open the doors. It fell gurgling in its death throes. The hobgoblin leader yelled out a command in their guttural tongue and every one of his men shifted smoothly between the party’s ranks to engage them all. He then jabbed his spear at the elf, scoring another hit. In response, the elf gave up his position in the front, shifting against the west wall. Morthos and Balasar joined the fray, striking at their nearest foes, and Etholin teleported deeper within the room to strike at the leader with magic missiles. Tolis-Va struck back ferociously at his attackers, and the tide of the battle turned quickly. The warriors finished off the last of the soldiers, and everyone took a seat at the table to catch their breath.
Looking at the bloodstained and crumpled papers found on the table revealed them to be crude plans depicting an attack on Winterhaven involving twenty hobgoblins and several hundred undead. A quick search of the rooms beyond the doors showed them to be bedchambers. A large chest in the warchief’s room contained a healthy sum of gold and a vicious magical short sword. Syler grinned wickedly as he swung the blade through a couple of practice routines. It felt good in his hands. Tolis-Va discovered a crate containing four bottles of fine red wine among the supplies. “You guys can have those,” the halfling commented, hefting the magic blade. “I’m good.”
When they’d recovered their strength, the moved back into the hallway to the north, avoiding the pressure plate. They could hear someone breathing behind the door, but as they exchanged positions in the hallway, they heard a voice from behind the door cry out, “We’re under attack!” The adventurers exchanged irritated glances before opening the doors. A short hall opened into a wider, torch-lit chamber, with crates and barrels of rancid foodstuffs stacked along the wall to the west. Two sets of double doors, one on the north wall and the other on the east wall provided exits from the storage room.
Syler took up a hidden position next to the east door, and Balasar readied himself to attack any foes that happened to fall within his reach. Then Morthos flung open the doors, to reveal a short hallway that opened up into a larger room to the east. Also, more hobgoblins. An archer had taken cover behind a small table and launched an arrow past the soldiers guarding his end of the hallway, but the missile flew wide of the mark. The party answered violence with violence, and the soldiers and warcaster were felled rather quickly. Five more hobgoblin grunts opened the northern door right beside where Syler hid, and the halfling found himself beset with foes. He retreated around the corner to the other hallway and Etholin burned most of them to death with a single spell. The survivor charged the wizard with its longsword, but that put it in position for the rogue to drive his new sword deep into its spine. The archer scrambled backward as its allies fell, but it could not escape the inevitable press of violence that it had started. It joined its brethren in death, its face thumping wetly against the floor.
. . .
The party made its way back to the southern chamber in which they’d slaughtered the undead guardians, and moved down the steps to the double doors there. The scouts could hear the sound of liquid flowing away from them beyond the doors, and when they were ready, Balasar opened the door and stepped beyond. Crimson streams trailed across the floor and terminated at a grate surrounding a hole in the floor of this shadowy cathedral. Blue-green light emanated from crystal columns. A dais along the eastern wall appeared to supply the blood. A human in dark robes stood there, knife raised high, singing the praises of the demon lord Orcus. A tattoo of a ram’s skull covered the man’s face. The man grinned wickedly as it noticed the adventurers entering the chamber, tossing the knife aside and taking up the mace on his belt. “Fools! Kalarel’s victory is imminent! You have come too late!”
Syler, unimpressed, moved forward and fired his crossbow into the priest, sinking the bolt deep into the man’s flank. Tolis-Va moved up to a position opposite the halfling where he could see a heavily muscled human with a greataxe standing beside one of the glowing pillars. He cursed, then drew a bead on his new quarry and fired an arrow at the berserker. The priest grimaced at his wound and moved forward and behind the cover of the glowing pillar. The barbarians moved forward and then charged, one at Tolis-Va and one at Balasar. The latter’s path took it just past the halfling who lashed out with his magical blade, scoring a deep wound in the man’s side. They could see that the powerfully built humans’ spit-flecked lips moved constantly in unending prayers to Orcus. They didn’t even seem to register the wounds they’d received. The elf was cut deeply and gritted his teeth against the pain. Balasar managed to avoid the other berserker’s swipe.
A trio of feral humans dashed into the narrow entry next. Their skin had a deathlike pallor and their eyes glowed crimson. They each had long canines and claw-like fingernails, and they put these implements to work against the halfling and the elf. Balasar and Morthos squared off against the berserker, while Etholin employed his magic from afar against the priest, who had once more entered the wizard’s line of sight. His explosive bolts of force also destroyed another pair of the vampire spawn that stood nearby the priest. Tolis-Va bugged out, moving around to the right of the entrance to escape the press and try to outflank the priest. The remaining vampire spawn were laid low and the berserkers soon followed. Balasar felt a dagger clank off his armor, and as he turned to see the source, he noticed a gloom enshrouded humanoid about Syler’s height leaning around a corner. Its hairless face had solid white eyes that stared hatefully at the dragonborn.
As the priest fell, impaled by the elf’s arrows, it lashed out with a ray of green necrotic energy at Balasar, but its magical strike flew right over the warrior’s shoulder. The only remaining foe was the dark creeper, but they ran the creature down and put it to the sword. As it died, it exploded in inky blackness that temporarily blinded Morthos and the dragonborn. As they recovered from the effect, the others looked around, Syler mapped the room and Tolis-Va considered the large chains allowing access into the central hole in the floor. The pit appeared to be about fifty feet deep and spilled blood into the large chamber below. Four large chains connected to the floor and slippery with blood ran down the side. They considered using rope to attempt the descent, but realized that it would get just as bloodsoaked as the chains were, so after they’d rested, Morthos wrapped his arms tightly around one of the chains and slid down the length. Balasar and Tolis-Va did likewise, and Syler nimbly ninja-walked down the length of slippery chain. Etholin was dubious about his chances, but he began to follow his fellows down the chains. He quickly lost his grip and fell, down to the shallow pool of blood below. He managed to roll with the landing to a degree, but it still hurt.
As the adventurers looked around, they realized that they had descended into a nightmare. Crimson streams spilled from above and formed a pool of blood in the center of the chamber. Etholin picked himself up off the floor and wiped the blood from his eyes, taking in the horrific sights around him, as well.
A yawning, black portal dominated the northern wall of the chamber. Something strained against the darkness within, as if it were a thin film keeping back a vicious clawed beast. A set of blazing runes had been inscribed on the floor before the portal. Opposite the portal, a massive statue of Orcus stood. It pointed toward the darkness with a skull-capped wand.
To the east, a series of steps led to a platform where a small pit was flanked by two smaller statues of Orcus, and to the west another set of steps ascended to an altar of bone flanked by wide pillars. A human clad in heavy armor and carrying a skull-capped rod stood behind the altar. His eyes were closed, and he changed a low, droning prayer over an open book resting on the altar before him. Etholin’s plunge alerted him to the group’s presence, and he smiled sinisterly. He glanced at the things straining against the dark portal, and chuckled to himself. “This ritual is all but complete. Your corpses will make a fine addition to my burgeoning army.”
“Hey, cholera…” said Syler. “Fuck you.” The halfling moved up and drove his short sword deep into one of the two skeletal guards flanking the stairs near Kalarel’s altar. Etholin conjured his flaming sphere and sent it against the other skeleton, singeing the undead warrior a bit. Balasar dashed off to do battle with a creature he saw lurking near the pit. As he drew near he saw that it was gaunt with pallid, leathery skin stretched taut over its bones. Black claws tipped its fingers and toes, the creature’s nose was sunken, and its lips were pulled back in a death grimace. He brought Morthos’ magic axe to bear on the creature and it sank satisfactorily into the dry flesh. In response, the wight revealed the full horror of its existence, attacking Balasar’s psyche and driving him back several steps. Tolis-Va moved south, and sent a couple of arrows at the skeleton beside the flaming sphere. He eyed the ledge of the altar atop which Kalarel stood. There were several pillars he could use for cover. He nodded, his next move decided. The skeleton pursued him but was cut off by Morthos, who dropped the undead. Kalarel leveled his staff at Syler, his nearest target and sent a sickly green ray of necrotic energy into his small body. It sapped his life and a portion of his strength. He grinned mercilessly at the halfling, “There’s a taste of my power, insect.”
The rogue shifted right, trying to gain cover from the evil cleric’s spells, and swung his sword feebly at the skeleton. It struck truly, but in his weakened state, he didn’t do much more than chip a rib bone. Balasar moved forward again to engage the wight and struck it once more. Again, he was rebuffed by the undead’s psychic assault. The skeletons struck at Syler and Tolis-Va, leaving Etholin free to move his flaming sphere up beside Kalarel. The elf moved forward and mantled up onto the altar, taking a position up between two pillars. He called upon his reserves of adrenalin and sent three arrows streaking at the priest. As the last sank in, a ring on Kalarel’s hand flashed and he vanished from behind the altar, reappearing in the magic circle near the portal. Morthos moved to assist Syler with his foe, and Kalarel leveled another ray at Syler. It was apparent that the magic circle was healing some of the man’s wounds.
Syler concentrated on finishing the skeleton before him so he could turn his full attention on Kalarel. Balasar once more moved in on the wight, and this time it dug its claws into his side, draining away some of his life essence. Etholin cursed and moved the flaming sphere as close to Kalarel’s new position as he could. Tolis-Va shrugged, reoriented on the cleric and sent another couple of arrows at him, though the magic of the circle seemed to afford him extra protection. Morthos provided Syler the opportunity to finish off the skeleton, and they both turned to look at the priest. Though he was wounded, the circle was feeding him additional life force, and he still looked supremely confident. He callously sent a pair of necrotic rays at Etholin, who was caught out in the open. Both struck true and sapped the wizard’s energy.
Syler saw his opportunity and he made a beeline for a spot just behind Kalarel. As he closed with the cleric, however, the Thing in the Portal stretched its claws out to strike at him, while he was still some teen feet from it. Gritting his teeth against the pain of the attack, he pressed on suffering another strike from the Thing’s claws. He saw that each strike healed more of Kalarel’s wounds and so he unleashed his most vicious attacks in rapid succession on the cleric, scoring deep wounds. Balasar finished off the wight and turned to look back to the rest of the room. Etholin moved the flaming sphere forward again and it flared up, but failed to do Kalarel any injury. The wizard’s eyes widened a bit as Tolis-Va sent another couple arrows at the cleric of Orcus. Morthos moved forward and his voice seemed to allow the halfling to ignore his wounds a little better. But it was not enough. Kalarel turned to regard the halfling, and ruthlessly shoved him toward the dark portal. He rapidly struck Syler with his staff, sending another wave of necrotic energy into his body before he turned his back on the halfling and moved back into the circle. Syler had a moment’s confusion before he saw the black claws extend and wrap around him. As they dug into his flesh, he screamed defiantly, “Oh, you sorry motherf-!” before he was dragged into the oblivion of the rift.
Everyone rocked back on their heels as Kalarel smugly looked over the group. “You see? You are as nothing before me.” Balasar growled and dashed across the floor, taking a wound from the reaching claws as he bore down on the evil priest. His axe found purchase in the wizard’s flesh, and the rest of the group continued to pour down vicious attacks on him. The flaming sphere burned him, Tolis-Va’s arrows pierced him, and Morthos’ polearm struck sliced him deeply. Kalarel struck the dragonborn with his staff, sapping his life force. The claws grabbed the dragonborn and dragged him away from the priest, but the warrior and his companions pressed on. The fight became desperate as Kalarel shoved Balasar closer to the rift, but the warrior avoided the reaching claws, and the assault continued.
As the final blow fell, Kalarel sank to his knees in the circle, the skull-capped staff slipping from his nerveless fingers. With fear in his eyes he uttered, “No…” in a feeble voice. The dark claws did not heed his plea as they reached out and grabbed him, dragging him as inexorably as they had Syler into the quivering portal. Seconds after he vanished beyond the threshold, the halfling’s body was forcefully expelled from the blackness, thumping unceremoniously to the stone floor as the magical sword clattered across the chamber. Then, the portal began to grow more substantial, seeming like a thick hard tar. The Shadow Rift was sealed once more, but the party found that they could not look away from their dead companion for a long while.
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