The Order of the Dark Flame: Book 5. (story, no spam)

McBane · Post by **McBane** » Tue Nov 12, 2002 3:36 pm

Here goes....

McBane watched as the column of other captives passed by his cell, wondering what the commotion was. It seemed like years since he had been taken by these filthy drow, but he knew it was only a few days. Why they had not killed him he wasn’t sure, but he knew it would prove a serious mistake to keep him alive.

He had shown great promise, being part of the Gutbuster Brigade, a group of reckless dwarves that followed Bruenor Battlehammer. Unfortunately for McBane, he was told he was too unstable to continue. Pwent, the leader of the Gutbuster Brigade, said he would get them all killed someday. “Humpth,” he thought bitterly, “what’s wrong with showing a little spirit?” So what if he had found himself, and those daring enough to follow him, behind enemy lines and vastly outnumbered on many occasion? “Still breathing and no worse for wear,” he muttered to himself. “If I could just get my hands on these drow, I’d show ‘em a thing or two, and bring the whole glorious tale back to Pwent. Be sure to let me back in, he would.”

“No,” he sighed, “it still won’t matter. How many times do I need to hear, ‘McBane, wait for the rest of us’? What I need is to find some folks who know how to kick some backside.” McBane noticed one of the drow priestesses shouting orders and walking closer. “What’s a matter, my girlie, gots a burr in the old saddle today?” growled McBane. The priestess, on edge already due to the upcoming encounter with the DarkFlames, rounded on McBane. “Silence!” she roared, unleashing a wicked looking whip with 3 separate spider heads on each end. Each head, independent of each other, whistled through the air, striking the dwarf in the shoulder, chest and leg. As each head struck, electrical charges discharged into McBane, dropping him to his knees and shaking him violently. It took all her self-control not to kill this obnoxious dwarf. “Soon”, she growled, “I will have the time to prepare you properly for the coming torment you richly deserve.”

Chanak · Post by **Chanak** » Tue Nov 12, 2002 11:12 pm

She stared at the sky...

Thalimon Shestare filled his lungs with the burning winds of fury, and once again he was the Demon, the terror of the far reaches...

Amidst the maelstrom of death their faces burned in his mind, their red eyes coming in the night, white hair shining in the light of the moon. They came for blood, and for killing...

Her eyes were blue...orbs like the summer sky, azure deeps of gentle rain and dew-kissed grasses...

The phase spider materialized upon his flank. A disturbance rippled the Flame in the tiefling's mind, alerting him to a presence behind...

Snarling, Thalimon lashed out behind him with Avenger, sinking the gleaming blade into the center of the spider's mass. The screeching rasp of the arachnid's chelicerae greeted the Thukariin's blade as it, too, joined Avenger in the deeps of the thorax...

Rivulets of blood stained her pale visage, peaceful in the sleep of death...touching her lips...they were cold...

The spider shuddered convulsively as the paladin twisted his swords, it's legs thrashing wildly as the blades began to strain...

Thalimon cracked the spider in two, splitting it open with his swords. Kicking the carcass into the mass of it's lesser cousins, he whirled in time to meet another phase spider as it wavered into existence on his right...

He would hunt each and every one, by Torm...spitting upon the bloated mass of their foul spider goddess, he would drive his fist deep within their heaving breast, ripping the black heart of the Drow out before their very eyes, and crush it as it convulsed within his grasp...

Dripping fangs plunged into the paladin's side, stopping short of their mark, unable to pierce the black chain of the Thukariin. His master's blade plunged directly between the phase spider's eyes as it scrambled to escape Thalimon's reach, placing it in the mercy of the tiefling's iron grip, given tremendous strength by virtue of Torm's Holy Might...

Avenger slashed through the spider's abdomen, sending innards flying in all directions...

He held her hand, and looked into her eyes...

The Demon could feel their red eyes in his consciousness...they awaited, not very far away...his heart blazed fervently with a hunger for vengeance...

He looked into her eyes, and the fear was gone.

Gwalchmai · Post by **Gwalchmai** » Wed Nov 13, 2002 4:43 pm

Experiencing one of the Great Cosmic Reversal Pranks of a Mocking Universe, Gwalchmai was being squashed by a bug. A really big bug. A really big spider, to be exact. He was clinging to the underbelly of the spider, unable to let go lest the spider attack him again. His weight was sufficient to effectively pin the spider whose legs scrambled for purchase in the gravely dirt. Normally, a spider this size would be able to lift and carry 20 men of Gwalchmai’s size, but this was an unusual situation. This was a Phase Spider, whose main mode of mobility was its ability to teleport short distances. It relied on surprise and poison to catch its prey, and as such its legs were unusually weak. Maybe if Gwalchmai had been on its back it could have bourn his weight. Unfortunately, no.

Gwalchmai’s face was buried in the belly of the beast, stiff hairs scratching his skin. A smell of ozone, remnants of the spider’s many teleportations, threatened to overcome him. Breathing was made harder by the weight on his chest. He knew he had to do something. His sword was still in its scabbard, but he could not reach it without letting go the spider.

“A little help here?” he managed to gasp, but no one heard him.

A little help was all he needed. Of course! He could still manifest one of his spirit animals to help get this spider off of him! While still clinging tightly, he focused inward and called on the myriad animals that had always been willing to travel from the spirit world to provide assistance. In his mind, the animals responded to his call with growls, hoots, snarls, and hisses, yet he ‘saw’ that they were somehow unable to cross that barrier and manifest themselves. Were his spirit animals rejecting him for some reason, refusing their aid? No, he could see their attempts to help him and the almost desperate looks on their faces. Finally, they stopped trying to make the journey, and just looked at Gwalchmai with love and support. But ultimately, they faded away leaving him alone.

Perhaps this was the crux of his confusion earlier? He had been feeling strange since praying to Eldath. Had his gods abandoned him? Had they finally realized his lack of devotion? Yet he had felt sure that she had offered him nothing but words of encouragement.

It was so hard to think with a spider on top of him. Maybe if he could just dig his toes into the beast while still holding on? Ah, yes! That caused some damage! It felt good to rake the spider’s belly again and again, his claws gouging deep wounds. The spider weakened with each attack, so much so that Gwalchmai could maneuver his paws up to the spider’s head and claw into its multiple eyes. In only a few short moments, the spider’s legs curled up and it rolled over on its back, dead.

Gwalchmai rolled his long, sleek body over to stand. The violence of killing the spider made his heart race and his breath come out in short, low growls. The black fur of his hackles stood on end as he caught the scent of yet more prey threatening his friends. Just before leaping to attack another huge spider, a moment of reason deep in his brain caused him to stop and examine himself. He was a panther! A large, Dire Panther! He had never shapechanged before, and yet it felt as natural to him as if he had been doing it all his life! With a joyful roar, he charged the enemy spiders.

Chanak · Post by **Chanak** » Wed Nov 13, 2002 10:51 pm

Not far from the battle...

Slender cords, glittering like the walls of the ancient tunnel complex, bound the struggling Drow male hand and foot. These dug deeply into his wrists and ankles, drawing blood, as they bore his weight...

The towering rothe, a massively muscled half-orc, bore the Drow victim in one thick-fingered hand, his narrow eyes glowing red in the gloom of the tunnel. Flanking him, on either side, were male warriors of the First House...

Quiri Kevon hissed as he and his contingent moved silently along, in contrast with the heavy footfalls of the half-orc slave. "Filthy rothe," he spat, "must you signal our presence with your ponderous bulk, misbegotten excrement of surface vermin? I should like to feed you to the Guardian as well, though the fiend might be angered still at the insult of offering your worthless pockmark-"

"Silence male!" At the rear of the company, the Handmaiden of Lolth drew her serpent-headed whip, poised to strike the surly male warrior. She knew they despised such duty, and she smiled as she beheld their obvious displeasure, relishing their pathetic bristling under the weight of her authority. “The rothe is here at my bidding. Not a one of you weak fools possesses the strength of limb suitable to the task. This failure must be successfully delivered to the Guardian without incident…” She raised her brow at Quiri, her eyes flashing a challenge. “Unless…

“Are you up to the task, brave one? Hmmmm…” she purred, smiling coyly. “Mayhap you are strong enough to deliver this offering in the rothe’s place, yes?” The Drow warrior averted his gaze forward, sullenly fingering the hilt of his long sword. The Handmaiden laughed harshly, strapping her whip back in place by her side. We shall see, she thought darkly. We shall see…

The company came to a halt before the warded door of the portal chamber. The giant slave stood motionless as a statue, awaiting the command of his mistress, the Drow captive struggling helplessly against the iron grip which held him aloft.

The door was massive, carved of stone, covered with a glowing web of runes and sigils. The surface was smooth, perfect without crack or blemish, offering no visible means of purchase. It hummed with power, and Quiri Kevon felt the small hairs of his neck prickle with the magical energy of the wards…

Such doors were not uncommon in the labyrinth expanses of the Underdark, and Quiri held many wardstones in his own possession, keys to opening the doors to which they were attuned. Doors open, and thus doors lead to that which lies beyond, and sometimes it is best if certain doors remain closed, never to be opened…

Quiri’s discomfort did not go unnoticed by the Handmaiden as she strolled forward, brushing by the warrior in carefully calculated nonchalance. She would make them sweat, yes, Lolth relishes the fear…the inclusion of the rothe was a stroke of genius on her part.

The priestess stood before the chamber door, reaching out with her gloved hand to caress the wards of power. Slowly she traced the web of enchantment, a smile crossing her delicate features as her hand came to rest upon the center of the weave, represented by a spider. Pressing her palm into the symbol, the massive door began to move…

She turned to face the rothe as the door slowly opened…a blast of fetid air from the chamber beyond assaulted the assembled Drow, and Quiri Kevon and his warrior brethren gagged as the putrid stench of decay filled the air…

”Quickly, slave, into the chamber!” commanded the Handmaiden, moving aside to allow the half-orc access into the steadily growing opening. Time was of the essence, for the ward would only remain for so long after the door stood open…

The rothe stood motionless, unblinking under the withering gaze of the priestess.

The Handmaiden screamed, lashing out with her whip. ”Beast! I command you to enter the chamber! DO IT NOW!” The serpent heads of the whip lacerated the rothe’s green skin, leaving a trail of blood in the furrow of the fangs…

Still the slave did not move.

Her eyes blazed at Quiri Kevon and the pair of warrior escorts that accompanied him. ”Now, male! Quickly! Move this worthless slave into the chamber, before the Guardian devours us all!”

Barking a command to his subordinates, Quiri and the Drow warriors set upon the half-orc slave, cursing as they shoved his massive bulk towards the open door. The rothe stumbled forward haltingly, the Drow captive mewling in terror as red eyes appeared in the darkness beyond…

The slave remained passive.

”Quickly!” the Handmaiden hissed, ”The tanar’ri approaches! MOVE YOUR WORTHLESS CARCASSES, I CAN ONLY HOLD THE WARD FOR SO LONG! HIS POWER ASSAULTS ME!!!” The priestess screamed at the straining warriors, her eyes bulging and wild…

With the rothe standing within the chamber at last, Quiri halted at the door, waves of horror washing over his awareness. His warriors were inside, and their screams signaled the close proximity of the gigantic Guardian…it loomed in the darkness before them, 13 feet of malignant evil, filling the chamber with the tremendous spread of its leathery wings…the Glabrezu roared, and Quiri wet himself, eyes wild with terror…

The pointed heel of the Handmaiden’s boot propelled Quiri forward through the doorway. The warrior stumbled into the chamber of the portal as the priestess pressed her hand into the wall adjacent to the door…

The plate triggered coiled springs within the wall, causing the warded door to slam closed with a reverberating BOOM. It was designed for such a purpose, to deny the Guardian egress under dire circumstances…

The Handmaiden of Lolth tossed her head back in a fit of laughter, ecstasy wracking her dark visage as she drank deeply of the success of her little plan, her red eyes glowing wickedly in the darkness.

She had disposed of the fool Kevon in a fitting manner. His mouth had marked him long ago, that one, and it was only a matter of time before Lolth herself would demand his flesh in the Demonweb, to feed her beloved pets. That the Guardian would be pleased as well at the unexpected offering would bring praise from the Mother and Iilya, ever more her desire as she laid her own plans…plans which would soon see Iilya removed entirely…

The fools were unaware that the rothe would only respond to her telepathic commands...all the while she screamed at the thrall, she commanded him to stand still, serving as bait for her ploy.

The priestess sighed with pleasure, smiling at the frenzied screams of the Guardian’s victims on the other side of the ward door. Yes, some doors ought never to be opened…

In the chamber beyond the door, the portal to the Abyss rippled...

Bloodstalker · Post by **Bloodstalker** » Thu Nov 14, 2002 12:13 am

Bloodstalkers eyes widened at the sight of the coming horde. The endless mass stretched before him, seeming to flow like a black plague towards his position. He reigned in the sudden impulse to charge blindly, the sensations of battle lust firing his blood, bringing an eerie glint in his eyes. Closer they came, like a force of perverted nature. His muscles corded in his arms as Striker came to a guard position in front of him. Let them come, he reminded himeself. There were too many, and to be seperated from his companions would mean a quick death. His eagerness barely in check, all seemed suspended for a long moment, all motion seemed to stop, only the feel of his breath coming steadily in his lungs reassuring him that time was indeed still moving.

In an instant, the trance was broken, as the sudden burst of flame lit the cavern. In a moment, he was aware of his companions moving, the sharp crackle of spells reverberating through him, adding fuel to the blood lust burning in his veins. From the corner of his eyes he say the glow of Thalimon's blade, heard the battle cries of the warriors as they met the oncoming mass of death. Before he had time to process it all, Striker lashed out, his first foe coming within range.

The Sword Spider came on, pressing upon him, being pushed forward as much by those behind it as it's own senseless lust to kill. With an efficient side step, BS managed to avoid the slashing mandibles and put himself in line for a strike. As the creature shuddered in it's death throes, BS withdrew his blade from it's back, bringing it around in one fluid motion to knock the next beast's dripping fangs to the side, barely avoiding the venomous bite. Without hesitation, he stepped forward,pressing the advantage as the creature was left with no room to retreat. It's kin pushed in behind it, pushing it into his attack. With a carefully measured blow, BS ended it's life, Striker pushing deep ito it's maw. With a violent jerk, he ripped the blade clean, his eyes lit wildly, fighting to stay in control of the mounting rage. There was no wasted motion as he whirled to bring himself in line with the next beast. He had to remain focused, could not afford to expend any more energy per kill as he had to in the face of such numbers.

Slowly, he began to give ground, grudgingly, as the smooth stone floor became slick with the blood and entrails of those slain by he and his companinions, making the footing treacherous.To slip before the press was death, to be buried under the sheer volume of enemies. He heard the thuds of arrows finding their mark, taking comfort in the fact that the archers were thinning the wave as best they could. His every instinct, his every impulse screamed for his to give into the fury that had been building inside him, but he would not allow it. He angled slightly, putting his back toward Nippy and Thalimon, cutting the chances of a rear attack as much as he could.

Still, the black mass pressed ever forward, each dead spider seeming to give birth to multiple foes, scrambling over the dead, in some instances sliding over the blood of their kin as the were pushed forward. Striker stayed in constant motion, seeking openings, blocking attacks, a small candleflame against an unending flow of darkness.

Finding solid footing, BS halted his retreat. A steel glint came to his blue-grey eyes, and death flowed through his veins, crying to be released, to kill and kill until there was nothing left, or he lay dead. With a shudder, he fought back the rage, forced himself to stand his ground, to remain in control. The battle had just begun, and he could not, would not give in to it. But as each moment passed, he felt the build, hping he could control what the fires of battle had ignited, fearing the result of that unleashed fury

T'lainya · Post by **T'lainya** » Thu Nov 14, 2002 1:04 pm

The smell of carrion and burnt spiders filled the cavern combining with the already stagnant air to create a choking cloud of fumes. More spiders swarmed towards the priestess. T’lainya wheeled in fury, as two large spiders glided towards her. A chill surrounded them as they moved to attack. The black spiders seemed to blend with the surrounding shadows making them difficult to see. The priestess recognized them for what they were, wraith spiders, the undead souls of those drow unfortunate enough to have failed their demonic mistress.

The spiders circled the priestess, recognizing an enemy of their mistress. They hissed at her, a sibilant sound so close to the language of the drow. T’lainya could almost make out the words they spoke, dark, menacing threats. They whispered promises to carry her soul to Lolth for eternal torment. The priestess willed herself to ignore the hypnotic whispers of the undead. She was a feywarden, a sworn high servant of Corellon Larethian and she would not fall for the tricks of a wraith. She laughed suddenly, a low and musical sound that pierced the veil of shadows surrounding the spiders.

The priestess channeled her will into summoning the divine power she served. The righteous fires filled her, as she became a conduit for the energies of the outer planes. Her hair crackled around her in a fiery halo that echoed the might she called. Blinding light erupted from her fingertips as the cavern crackled with the priestesses’ power. The energy arced towards the wraith spiders, surrounding them, penetrating the undead flesh. Another split second passed as the divine fire burned through the undead. Then the wraith spiders exploded, light poured from their insubstantial forms as they were seared from the cavern, indeed from the face of Faerun. T’lainya felt the damned souls passage back to the abyss as an exultant smile flashed across her face.

Again she felt a tremor in the weave and the outer planes. A sense of foreboding slid down her spine and pricked at her senses. She had called her God and she felt his enemies close. An image half formed in her mind, an outline too vague to identify but full of malice. The priestess recalled the image of her holy symbol letting it fill her mind. The other presence disappeared and T’lainya wondered. She called to Jennabard, using the message spell again. She named a spell and the bard greed, smiling as the Great Shout liquefied dozens of the smaller arachnids.

T’lainya smiled hiding her feelings. Directly channeling power from Arvandor always filled her with a longing, a wish for the serenity Arvandor promised. She had duty here though and she would serve the Seldarine and The Protector until death and beyond. She shook her head slightly, wondering where that thought had come from. She straightened herself and waded once more into battle.

Chanak · Post by **Chanak** » Thu Nov 14, 2002 3:20 pm

In the Portal Chamber...

The Ward door slammed closed...

Quiri Kevon flung himself against the unyielding slab of stone, icy fingers of horror crushing his chest...he couldn't draw breath...

Blood splattered from balled fists as he flailed impotently against the finality of his doom, sealed by the laughter of the priestess of Lolth. Sobbing hysterically, he begged the Handmaiden to spare his worthless existence...his life, and his very soul, would be devoured by the terror of the Abyss, swallowed forever in the nightmare layers of the Princes, universes of torment and agony without end, misery beyond sanity...

A keening wail sliced into the Drow Captain, piercing the cold shroud of fear that had numbed his mind, screaming at him to get out, get out, and away from the horror... A hot knife had pierced the terror, stirring within him a familiar sensation, one which he, like all of his cruel race, had painstakingly cultivated over the centuries of his existence in the Underdark...

Slowly, inexorably, Quiri turned to face the source of that wail, overcome by morbid fascination...

The Glabrezu gripped Laithan, the Captain's aide, in the pincers of his lower pair of arms. Lifting the Drow warrior from the confines of the stone floor, the tanar'ri had brought him to the level of his own gaze...a rictus grin cracked the Guardian's canine maw, revealing rows of jagged fangs, dripping with steaming, caustic saliva.

One claw gripped the Drow at the hip, while the other engulfed the dark elf's head...as the demon began to slowly pull Laithan apart, the warrior had shrieked a death cry, sparking the lust in Quiri's dark heart, drawing his red eyes to watch in rapt fascination as the Glabrezu chortled gutturally...

The slamming of the door had startled the rothe, causing him to blink involuntarily. The resounding report of the sealing had struck a chord in the fabric of his awareness, and he grasped desperately at it, shaking his shaggy head as he rubbed the slave collar that encircled his neck…

Where was he? What was this place?

Images swirled in his mind, visions of spiders upon great shimmering webs, whips with the heads of snakes, and a cold, hard voice in his head…this had filled his every waking moment. When it spoke he moved, and when it cursed him he quailed, and when it purred with pleasure he was soothed, finding peace in this world of darkness he found himself in. The voice had been the only light, and even though it had been a dark, cold glow in the glaciers of his helpless mind, he clung to it desperately…

He became aware of a burden in his right hand…looking down at his side, he beheld the struggling dark elf of the offering, urine pooling on the floor beneath him, running in rivers off of his bent knees. Disgust washing over him, he tossed the babbling parcel aside. Rubbing the welts on his fingers caused by the bonds that had held his burden, the half-orc shook his head again, clearing his mind of the web which had held his thoughts captive for so long…how long?

The Wards of the sealing not only prevented physical escape from the confines of the chamber, but it also caged the Guardian’s intangible powers within, blocking his mind from reaching beyond the door. This barrier served its purpose well…too well, for the powerful magics also prevented the same sort of intangible influences from reaching inside. One result of the sealing of the door had been the liberation of the half-orc slave from the domination of the Handmaiden of Lolth, and now he stood free in the chamber, his mind returning to control his body once more.

Rak…I am Rak. Seizing the wayward thought, the half-orc pressed for more, and dimly the shape of the Taiga, the snow-laden forest of his distant home, came into view…the memories of his weary mind, long in slumber, began to stir.

Looking at the scarred nakedness of his body, covered only by a loincloth, Rak wondered what had happened to the fur trappings of Bear…this he had won in honorable combat, the great carnivore’s neck snapping under the strength of the barbarian’s youthful might. He had sung of their battle as he reverently removed Bear’s hide covering, the right of the victor. He had tanned the hide himself, joining his spirit with that of Bear as he toiled to fashion the hide armor of honor that few in his tribe could claim as their own…

Rak watched the Guardian tear the Drow in two, the shriek of the dark elf ending abruptly as the demon ripped skull and backbone from quivering torso. The fiend roared as it was bathed in a fountain of blood, and Rak recognized the heart of the beast, the predator of the primeval hunting ground…

The heart of the barbarian was as scarred as his body, toughened by hide born of battle and bloodshed. As such he was unaware of the demon fear which permeated the chamber of the portal. Rak knew no fear. He looked with contempt upon the Drow as they scrambled to escape the wrath of the beast, and quelled his own surging desire to crush their skulls beneath the soles of his feet. This was the beast’s hunting ground, and out of respect Rak would withdraw.

The barbarian stooped to his left, where the dismembered body of a dark one lay in a crumpled heap. Rak grunted as his hand found the hilt of the Drow’s long sword. Removing it from the scabbard, he wondered at how natural it felt in his grip, testing the balance of the blade. Rak could not understand how ones so weak could possess steel so refined, and so perfectly suited for killing.

The barbarian retired to a corner of the chamber. Sitting down upon the cold rock, he crossed his legs, placing the Drow weapon across his lap. Here he would await the beast. Settling back against the wall, the half-orc closed his eyes, and dreamt of Bear…

Yshania · Post by **Yshania** » Thu Nov 14, 2002 3:54 pm

The druid was in awe of the power and guile of her comrades, all of them exhibiting one or the other -- Gwalchmai had exhibited both as he wrestled with the spider, and she smiled, admiring his presence of mind. A brief interchange between Bloodstalker and Scayde did not escape Yshania’s attentions, Bloodstalker appeared to tip his head towards Gwalchmai, mouth the word “Rodeo”, then draw his finger in a line across his throat before turning to face the arachnid that had suddenly reared it’s swords maliciously.

The Avenger looked down at her blades, and an energy coursed through her, causing her skin to crawl. Something in the depths of her mind and soul urged her to hold back on her offensive spells, to conserve the energy…something urged her to consider they would be wasted here on this mass that would easily die by the steel. She sighed at her reckless intent to ditch her blades, her lack of wisdom. She began the low chant that caused her presence to shimmer and disappear, then she drew breath and steeled herself for what promised to be an intense battle.

A curtain of calm descended and the druid stepped decisively and undetected out into the cavern. Her scimitars were held steadily wide, and tip to tip in a defensive stance…the breadth of the blades parallel to the cavern floor, the finely honed edges outward…"The way of the dance" Everything moved in slow motion, with occasional snatching hangs of suspended animation. The slow deepened cries of the Dark Flames, the apparent delayed blasts of light from offensive mage spells and divine priest spells. She turned to see Tashara re-enter the cavern, flanked by her own summons. Momentarily, Yshania was struck by a similar calm determination in the fighter/mage that she herself was currently experiencing…all they had come through, all they had bled for, was here and now.

Suddenly she felt more in control, moreso than when she had faced the beasts of the rituals, moreso than when she had slain the orc and the drow fodder. She slowly drew her fists together, her blades taking on a blue glow as she held them vertically before her…then with a deft twist she turned towards the nearby wraith spider, offended by the carrion stench, and cleanly separated the thorax from the abdomen. Standing close by, Tashara witnessed one of her opponents fall into two halves before she had raised her own sword…

Aegis · Post by **Aegis** » Thu Nov 14, 2002 4:54 pm

Aegis was the first to spot the hordes of spiders coming there way. Roaring a warning, and turning back to the swift moving black mass, he loosed several arrows into the darkness. With each arrow launched, he heard a high pitched squeel, and knew that another spider was skewered. He had barely gotten through half the arrows he had dug into the ground, when the spiders came upon the dark flames. As the ranger was kneeling for another arrow,, he heard the sound of eight sharp legs coming upon him. He grabbed two arrows, then shot himself back. Just as his feet left the ground, the sharp limbs of a Sword Spider slammed into the ground, digging in, and sending bits of rock skittering about the hard rock surface. As Aegis his the ground, he looked up, and saw the gruesome visage of a sword spider. He grimaced slightly, then ran forward, as did the spider. It c0cked it's head forward, it's mandables open, trying to crush the tiny elf in one bite. Aegis spun to the side, holding onto the arrows tightly. As he heard the sound of the spider's mandables snapping shut, and with his back to the spider, he jabbed one of his arrows into the bulbous thorax of the beast. He heard a shriek from the spider, and felt it move slightly. Aegis didn't relent. As he finished his spin, he poked and prodded the spider again and again, each time the arrows biting into the spider's body. As the ranger was moving behind the beast, it managed to raise one of it's legs up, to stop the small ranger. Aegis saw it just in time. Just before his body hit the leg, he sent one of the arrows deep into the thorax of the spider, his hand following the wooden shaft. He felt the warm blood of the spider, and felt his sleeve begin to stick to his forearm. The spider let out an ear-piercing screech as Aegis withdrew his hand. The moment he had his hand free, he let the other arrow drop to the ground, and in a moments time, Sun Fang was drawn and the familar red glow lit up the area. Without hesitation, Aegis sent the tip of the sharp blade through the spiders body, and out the other side. He then shifted the blade, turning the edge towards the ceiling, and ripping the wound open even further. Then, placing his leg on the bulbous body to brace himself, he pulled the blade up, and out. The blade was wet, and glistening with spiders blood, and left a trail of the vile liquid in an arc as it exited the body. The blood spilled over Aegis, but the ranger paid no noticed, already turning towards the next spider...

Scayde · Post by **Scayde** » Fri Nov 15, 2002 1:10 am

Scayde looked on helplessly as she witnessed the terror unfolding before her eyes. The Demon-man Thalimon battling a gigantic arachnid, every bit the size of the man locked in combat with it. It’s legs looking not so much like limbs as razored blades, talons of unearthly assault. Her heart pounding within her at the sight of the rage filling the glowing green eyes that had been so welcoming and offered such comfort only a short time before. She stood motionless as the sword of light he wielded sliced through the chitin carapace in a frenzied counter attack, shattering it like dried leaves underfoot.

Standing awe struck she looked on as the slight woman who had seemed so shy and retiring only moments before exhaled her frosty breath, crystallizing her would be attackers as they pursued their prey.

She was taken aback by the napalm-like effect of the missiles hurled by the noble priestess T’lainya, as she cleared the path before her just prior to rushing into battle, laying waist to the massive creatures which suddenly appeared around her.

Horror filled her breast on seeing the gentle druid Gwalchmai pinned by one of the bloodthirsty beasts. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Bloodstalker, the tall man who had so goodheartedly teased her about her accent earlier, turn and signal for her to send the wretched thing to its maker. But as she raised her rifle to take aim on the spider, she was struck numb as the man embattled with it suddenly was transformed into a great panther, ripping his way through the creature’s underbelly. She lowered her weapon in shock and relief that she had not had to give her position away. Her instructions had been explicit that she should remain hidden until the magic users made themselves known. She strained at the effort of following those instructions.

Scayde brushed the tickling beasts from her hair and shoulders as they dropped form the ceiling, “ugh..” She stifled the gasp as she brushed them away, taking a bandanna out of her pocket and tying it around her neck to prevent them from gaining access to the skin below her blouse. ‘Oh God...I hate spiders’ she thought to herself. It was all she could do to suppress the whimpers rising in her throat.

She looked up just long enough to meet the gaze of Thalimon, his eyes, haunting and intense as they flashed with their green light. She was reminded of the way lightning flashing behind the thunderclouds in the dark midnight night sky. She gasped as more of the giant spiders materialized around him, and stood transfixed as he spun into battle, shattering their horny shells with each blow of his massive sword. The gall of fear congealed like a hard lump in her throat as one of the monsters sank its fangs into his side. She felt her knees go weak with relief when he appeared unhurt, spinning to plunge his great sword into the face of the thing, sending it to the hell it deserved.

Scayde's heart thumped wildly in her chest when she saw the approaching fangs of one of the monsters come near to where she perched. Reaching for her knife, she stepped back from the ledged, hiding behind one of the massive boulders. As it made its way up over the ledge, she struck out from the shadow of her hiding place, driving the 10 inch blade to the hilt into the maw of the thing and with all the strength she possessed, slicing down through its vulnerable underbelly, spilling its entrails along the long wall of the ledge where she stood. Withdrawing her blade with a hard jerk, her boot firmly against its lifeless body, she pushed the thing over, and watched in dismay as it was consumed in a cannibalistic frenzy by the lesser arachnids.

Looking up she caught glimpse of the flirtatious Bloodstalker overtaken by rage as he pressed into the battle between Thalimon and the young knight she had seen with the two men earlier. His moves were skilled and calculating, filled with cold precision and dark, frenzied energy. He was rage personified when the bloodlust swelled within. His fury belied the friendly nature she had associated him with, and she watched on with fascination as she learned more about this lighthearted man. He was every bit the fiercest of warriors, and his rage was terrifying in its power.

The young knight beside him fought with the courage of a warrior twice his age. She watched in awe as he summoned a sword and unleashed its deadly intentions on the assailants.

A blinding light snapped Scayde attention away and focused it on T’lainya. The priestess’s hair raised around her in a glowing crimson halo, lights dancing about her graceful form...such beauty in the middle of this mayhem. As she stared mesmerized by the otherworldly beauty unfolding before her, the light erupted in a shock wave, spiders exploding where they stood. The energy rippled through their numbers laying waist to thousands of the scurrying things, leaving the cavern floor slick with their gore.

Scayde’s attention flitted to Yshania and Dragon Wench near the edge of the pool. Yshania stood with two exquisit blades, gleaming with runes, held tightly in her hands. The raven haired beauty stared at them as if they were an otherworldly apparition, and not the deadly curved blades of black malice which could only inspire fear and admiration in any opponent. She watched as a transformation washed over the countenance of her friend. Yshania whirled into a ferocious attack, not unlike a dance. A dance with death. The fury of her movement becoming a deadly ballet, as chitin and gore flew out from her path.

Dragon Wench stirred at the bedlam surrounding her, drawing her back from her reflections and breaking her trance. The ordered chaos of battle raged all around, bringing her back to the present. In one swift motion Dragon Wench rose from the floor of the cavern where she had been kneeling at the edge of the pool spinning on her heal as she did. On her ascent, the lithe woman drew her blade in a graceful arc, pausing to hold it aloft briefly before her eyes. With steely determination she launched onto the battle, unleashing deadly pirouettes of muscle and blade, life and death, passing judgement on the creatures before her, and her judgement was to spare not one. This was the day of their death, and she was the bringer...

Arrows flew into the squirming, crawling masses, and Scayde turned into the direction of their source. The slight man who had been observing her quietly, shooting them in a whir of rapid succession, with deadly accuracy such that not a one was wasted. Each finding its mark in the frenzy of the onslaught.

Scayde glanced about her surroundings again, looking for the signs of magic. The tattletales of her intended targets...

She must be ready...She must not fail...

Nippy · Post by **Nippy** » Fri Nov 15, 2002 10:32 am

Nippy's blade began a whirling dance in front of him. He became like a whirlwind, the blade's blue glow glinting in the light, became like a feather in his hand. The muscles in his shoulders and arms bunched as the dance carried on, talons and limbs tried to break the spinning blue light but they were torn away by the storm of the assault.

He smiled grimly as he planted the blade deep into the eyes of a chitinous spider, it hissed in its death throes and collapsed inwards, it's legs scratching on the hard surface. He whirled around behind him ready to begin another assault when he saw the young woman from earlier approached by another spider. He grinned in delight as she planted a knife in the hideous eyes of the spider, dragging it through the thorax, followed by a hard boot, kicking it away from her.

Nippy smiled again, caught her eye and winked. He flashed a mock salute and span around again, his tunic tight to his body with a sheen of sweat developing on his forehead.

He kicked another approaching spider in the maw and it hissed back again, attempting to reach out a chitinous leg to slice open his arm, Nippy slid his body sideways, feeling the muscles tense in his back. He ripped the Torm given blade upwards and roared as it met the weak resistance from the limb, a quick crack was heard as the hard exoskeleton split under the force and the spider seemed to squeal, quickly silenced by a rapid cleaving strike from Nippy.

He kept his momentum and moved forward striking another spider across the back, hearing another familair crack from the exoskeleton.

What he saw next chilled him. Wraith spiders. A lot of others would have shuddered but Nippy's training forbade him. A grim look wove its way across his youthful face, his eyes darkening with intensity. His mouth curled into a snarl, almost baring teeth like an animal.

"Begone foul undead! You do not taint this plane anymore, thou unnatural beasts, feel mine fury, for it is the last thing you will know!"

Nippy broke off to attack the small group of Wraith spiders. They seemed to understand, two creeping forwards, their legs tapping against the floor.

The rest of the battle left Nippy. It was he and the spiders, and it would be that way until one or the other fell.

With surprising intelligence, the two split, moving to the left and right of Nippy, drawing his focus from each other. One hissed and moved forward, forcing Nippy to turn and face while the other moved into the strike.

Nippy did not strike out with his blade though, he baded his time, waiting for them to move forward. One creeped closer to him, but he still gave it no attention. Both suddenly burst forwards, attempting to strike at him.

Now was the time. Nippy leapt into the air in a forward somersault, his blade held close to his chest. He turned in the air, making sure he faced the assaulting spiders. He landed deftly on his feet, a small wisp of dust the only sign of Nippy leaving the ground. He began to chant, urgently and powerfully, his deep, powerful voice filling the chamber.

Once again he felt Torm's essence coalesce inside of him and he opened his eyes, seeing the spiders move forward urgently, their momentary confusion gone. His chant completed, his mouth opened and his palms faced outwards and a golden light erupted from him, the light poured from his body and struck the spiders.

They began to steam first of all, and then burn, the positive energy ruptured through them and they began to collapse, screaming as their unholy existence ended on this plane. With a final sigh they both collapsed on the ground, their burnt bodies the only reminder of their time here.

A slight smile appeared on Nippy's face, but there was no humour there on the young man's face.

"As is Torm's will, your fate has been sealed..."

dragon wench · Post by **dragon wench** » Fri Nov 15, 2002 11:54 am

The cacaphony of combat had drawn her from Eldaths' pool. Wild, warrior shouts ricocheted alongside agonised, bestial squeals... a panoply of sounds reverberating against dank, serpentine walls. Tashara's vision blurred... At her side, Yshania savagely gutted battle-crazed arachnids....blood and venom arcing.... showering them both in a translucent rainbow of gore.

Awakening to the frenzy of whirling steel.... an intertwined tango of life and death, Tashara forcibly brought her senses to the unfolding scene. A menacing sea of scuttling legs heaved and roiled forward.... a ceaseless onslaught from the depths of infernal dark. They seemed to move as one; hairy body rushing against hairy body....each bent upon a single focus..... to answer Lloth’s call…. to defend her dark children from the impudent surface dwellers that dared to invade her shadowed domain.

As her senses came to the fore, sharpened....yet instinctual.... Tashara unsheathed her blade. Bluish steel glinted against the cavern's muted light. For a brief moment, the sword seemed suspended....a dim glow in the surrounding darkness. Involuntarily, she shuddered. The cavern had become a sensory tapestry; crimson entrails coalesced with the piercing screams of dying spiders; the suffocating stench of rotting carrion flooded into her nostrils….. she could nearly taste long dead flesh crawling through her breath, her veins, her blood. Rough, gore-encrusted fur brushed against her cloak, immediately followed by an enraged squeal…as the spider made contact with fiery fabric.

Moving with long-practiced ease, Tashara drew her sword and drove it deeply…ripping asunder protective carapace…plunging through soft tissue until sharp steel kissed stone and sand.

She danced as if in a dream….her sword moving as an extension of all she was…..”To embrace the way of the sword is to become one with all you are….every muscle… every breath…every thought…” Chesharik’s words reached towards her from the edges of her awareness….bringing back memories long forgotten.

He had dedicated every available moment to her training… the gift of his knowledge a legacy… a promise to shelter and protect the small girl who had become his charge. How she had railed against his will… determined to carve her own path…her own future. Chesharik’s eyes… angry, yet filled by grief, would demand her compliance. Too young to understand, she had finally veiled the restless fires that burned within…Until…

Evilly angled fangs sank into her leg. Tashara swore… the memories faded. Unsure of her resistance to venom, she hastily uncorked an antidote, and slashed wrathfully at the phase spider that had materialised at her feet. Hacking with sudden fury… with unbidden bloodlust, she spun her sword through air, gristle, and shell….

A grim spectacle of life...of death.... ebbing and flowing.... engulfing all.

Chanak · Post by **Chanak** » Fri Nov 15, 2002 12:43 pm

Thalimon emerged from a greenish shower of spider entrails close to Nippy, his brother and comrade, as the grim warrior whirled about in his own dance of death. He laughed with delight at the vision of the greatsword in the paladin's hands, and shouted a cry above the din...

"Tharan'tiir sa Anthalimou!" The Divine Storm of Torm!

Glancing over his shoulder to where his comrades lay locked in battle, his eyes swept over the breadth of the chamber...and met those of Scayde Moody, the woman from the land of Texas. She held tightly to her unusual battle wand, concealed in a rocky precipe...she was well-placed, the tiefling noted with satisfaction. The battle progressed well.

Distance, nor the chaos of melee, could diminish the anticipation of the storm that he felt in her presence...that he felt even now. The electricty passed in waves over his being as he looked into her eyes...the deeps of the sea were found there....

Zurkuul...

The scent of the Negative Plane reached Thalimon Shestare within the flickering heat of the Flame. He sensed the shadowy forms of the Wraith Spiders surrounding him upon the field of battle, chelicerae clicking, legs of shadow carrying them forward. Their souls, damned to walk the twilight realm of unlife for all eternity, whispered in a cacophany of torment and suffering, twisted revenants hungering for the life of the living...

They called out to him...

The bright star of Avenger, the Holy Fire of the Heavens, flared in a burst of dazzling golden radiance, the flames roaring in the presence of the malignant evil of the undead...the Wraiths recoiled in terror at the display, faltering back in dismay, wailing in the light of the fire. Transluscent flames reached out from the burning sword eagerly, traveling up the paladin's arm, engulfing his entire body in a shining shroud of celestial fire...

Thalimon grimaced as he held tightly to the blazing sword...it hummed with a power that seemed to open the very fabric of reality itself, becoming a conduit for a raging flood of power...he managed to hold on, seeking an equilibrium somewhere amidst the torrent of Outer Planar power that flowed through the blade.

The Flame quivered...

Avenger burned through the air, cleaving through the legs and carapace of a Wraith Spider...

White fire roared hungrily from the sword as it smote the Negative energy of the undead revenant, consuming the spider utterly as the Wraith form shrieked in agony...

Stabbing the Thukariin's blade to his left, Thalimon locked onto the life-draining fangs of a spider, and another Wraith felt the burning celestial fire of Cothindar's blade as it seared into it's abdomen, disintegrating it's hold upon the Prime Material. Avenger wreaked havoc upon the evil of their withered souls...

The Wraiths cried aloud in fear, scrambling to escape the sword-wind of the Tharan'tiir. Not far from the flaming arcs of Avenger, Nippy called down the wrath of Torm upon the souls of the damned, their cries piercing the din of battle, a soul-wrenching wail from beyond the grave...

Bloodstalker · Post by **Bloodstalker** » Fri Nov 15, 2002 2:41 pm

The stench of the dead, the fetid odor of intestines and blood drifted through the cavern. The cries of his companions, sharp crack of steel upon exoskeletons reached his ears, but feel away unheard. All of his senses, his entire mind and spirit were firmly in the realm of battle now, attuned to the subtle movements and telltale indications of danger. Any motion or sound that was not a threat was noted and discarded, keeping his senses free for any indication of an attack. Even the explosive ripples of the magic being released failed to affect him substantially. He was aware of vauge discomfort, but nothing akin to the pain that usually accompanied such power being loosed in his vicinity. For that small mercy Bloodstalker should have been grateful, but instead, he found himself in fear.

He recognized what was happening within, knew the distancing of himself from these things for what it was. The sweat that beaded along his brow wasn't from any effort or fear at the sudden crackle that alerted him of the phase spider materializing on his flank, but more a sense of forboding. He did not even think, no thought being needed for him to recognize the subtle, almost inaudible sounds of the creature gathering itself behind him. Instead, there was only the instinctual dropping to one knee an instant before the beast made it's leap, hurling itself upward and forward towards his back. He didn't even process his hand raising Striker,slashing in a savage arc across his shoulder as the spider sailed over his head. Cold steel met little resistance in the soft underbelly of the beast, and blood and organs spewed forth where the blade passed as the body continued on, crashing into the spider BS had just been engaged with, sending it skittering back into the mass.

He was barly aware of the blood on his face as the sound of legs moving on hard stone drew his eyes back to his front, watching as yet another of the disgusting creature rushed forward. So intent was the Spider on pressing in upon the kneeling BS that it never even noticed the swift arc, the angry bite of Striker as it came around in a low sweep, severing three of its forelegs and pitching it's body forward at an awkward angle.

Rising swiftly to his feet once more, He brought his blade to bear as the Spider reared up, then thrust wickedly into the exposed underbelly of the creature. For a moment, he felt again the hot fires within, and this time, he knew. He could fight it, control it for a time, but already the signs were there. His rage was detaching his mind from his action, pure instinct taking control in this deperate battle. He knew it would consume him if he could not find a calm, an anchor to grab onto in the creeping mass. In a fit of defiance at his own welling rage, he lashed out with his leg, kicking the Spider free of his blade, watching with satisfaction the inanimate form knocking some of the beasts away, crushing some of it's smaller cousins.

He needed time, a moment of calm to bring the powers surging within him into check. The swinging apendages of a sword spider comining up on his left gave him none, further fueling his feelings of foreboding, stoking the furnace of his rage. With a savage growl, he faced the creature, his mind reaching for the calm that would stave of his mindless lust. He fought, but he could feel it building, knowing it was a matter of time until it must be released, the low growling in his throat mocking his efforts to fight his primal urges.

Chanak · Post by **Chanak** » Fri Nov 15, 2002 5:37 pm

The souls of the damned cried aloud...

Red-robed figures surrounded the writhing Drow woman...

Iilya stood before the altar of sacrifice, the whites of her eyes flashing as she undulated to the chanting of the Handmaidens...

A low tone it was, and as they droned each word a reddish mist began to arise about the Spider-throne....

The robed figures spoke the forbidden names of Lolth, the Spider-goddess of the demonweb pits...the Drow woman cried aloud in ecstasy...

Dropping her black robe to the floor of the chamber, Iilya stepped forward, seizing an elven skull at her feet....

Shaiduuth....Zaithzinzabidal....Ulukori....Lilith'zanzibaal....

Wracked by spasms of delirious pleasure, Iilya screamed aloud in a climax, lifting the elven skull high above her head...

Lailaith Shreveth'saa....Padarme Zakul....

The Blood of the Innocent cascaded down upon the priestess from the macabre vessel in her upraised hands, bathing her dark skin in glistening crimson...

"Quickly!", Iilya cried out in the throes of ecstasy, her white tresses stained red. "Bring the sacrifices! The Goddess is pleased! Swiftly!"

At her command the doors to the chamber swung wide...

Silently, two robed Handmaidens appeared by Drow woman's side....one to her right, and one to her left...

Iilya writhed in agony as the red mist of the altar sent ethereal tendrils slithering up her blood-bathed legs. She moaned aloud as they hungrily pierced her body, wracking her lithe form with a swelling surge of pain/pleasure...

The male servants, chosen carefully from amongst the strongest of the Drow warriors, approached the Spider-throne bearing a struggling burden, bound, gagged, and hooded...her pale skin was in stark contrast to their own dark countenances...

Once again, the robed priestesses began chanting the forbidden names...

Iilya reached out, pulling the hood free of the struggling girl...

Her golden locks spilled out from the containment, revealing her delicately fashioned visage. She was a surface elf, the mortal foes of the Drow race...

Her eyes of blue glared at the blood-stained priestess before her, silver tears streaming down the fair skin of her heart-shaped face...the gag in her mouth was removed...

"Rillifane! Leaflord! Avenge me this day!" She cried, as she was tossed harshly upon the black, grooved stone of the altar. Iilya laughed manaically...

"Yes! Cry out to your impotent god of twigs, barren she-dog! Lolth shall feast upon your heart this day!"

The Handmaiden to the right laid the dagger in the Drow woman's trembling hand...

Raising the blade high into the swirling red mist which surrounded the altar of sacrifice, Iilya unleashed a blood-curdling cry...

The elven woman screamed as the blade plunged into her breast, opening her chest cavity wide...

The priestess plunged her left hand within, ripping the elf's beating heart free of the bonds of bone, vein, and flesh...

The robed Handmaidens entered into a frenzied wail, reaching a crescendo as the High Priestess crushed the heart to her lips, drinking deeply of the blood contained therein...

Dropping the deflated heart into a bowl upon the altar, Iilya called a name aloud, over and over, as her hands smeared blood all over her lust-filled body...

Zaithan!....Zaithan!..........

Upon the killing fields of the Blood War, an ancient warrior paused, his glowing eyes narrowing as he hefted his tremendous black sword upon his shoulder...his name had been spoken.

The next sacrifice was brought before the altar, another girl entering the flower of her womanhood...

The hood removed, Iilya hissed as she beheld that most despised of abominations...a half-elf. She was strong, this one, and the muscles of the warrior-servants rippled as they sought to restrain her coiled strength...

The priestess smiled. Yes, Lolth will be pleased. She lifted the blade high once more...

The half-elven heart joined that of her elven sister in the altar bowl.

Again Iilya cried aloud, another name escaping her blood-gorged lips...

Lyrkuul!....Lyrkuul!............

At last, the final offering was brought into the chamber of the Goddess. Four warrior-servants dragged a kicking, thrashing young woman before the altar. She was long-limbed and full-fleshed, towering above her dark elf captors. Each Drow of the ritual knew, without the unmasking, that this particular prisoner held a special place in the dark heart of their Spider goddess...

The human woman had hair of lustrous jet, offset by fair, milky skin, flawless in her youth. This was in opposition to the Drow, who possessed stark white locks and ebony skin. She was chosen especially for the irony...Iilya howled in triumph.

"Feel the cold of the Abyss, surface vermin! Your soul shall lie imprisoned upon the web of the Goddess for ages without end!"

With that, the knife plunged, and the chanting of the Handmaidens ceased. The silence of the chamber was only disturbed by the wet smacking of Iilya's lips as she drank greedily of the human heart...

Casting the heart into the bowl, she cried out the final name...

Menelzathai!.....Menelzathai!...........

The Handmaiden to her left seized the bowl of the altar in her gloved hands. As she turned a censer to the side of the altar flared to life...multi-hued flames sprang forth from burning coals...

Zaithan......Lyrkuul....Menelzathai! Come!

The robed Handmaiden tossed the hearts into the blazing censer, the flames roaring in response, a great column of fire spiralling up towards the ceiling of the chamber...

Zaithan......Lyrkuul....Menelzathai! Come! I bid you come!

A form began to take shape within the column of flame...a tentacled, ropy mass solidifed to the horror of all...

A slithering voice from the depths of Hell spilled into the chamber as the apparation spoke...

The Yochohol spoke..."Priestess...know that Lolth is pleased with the offering. You have done well...this time. The demon hissed as it waved dripping tentacles close to Iilya...

"The summoning is complete, Handmaiden. The Knights come."

Iilya cried in triumph. "Lolth be praised! I shall give her the heart of the Demon myself, as I rip it from his heaving breast! His doom is complete! He shall not escape me again!" With that the priestess shrieked, and leapt upon the nearest hooded warrior-servant, her dagger plunging deep into his chest. Savagely she dug into the mortal wound, drawing his heart out in her hand, laughing hysterically as the male toppled to the floor, his limbs twitching in death. "For Lolth!"

The Demon Knights had come.

Mysteria · Post by **Mysteria** » Fri Nov 15, 2002 5:59 pm

The flow of spiders ebbed for a moment, giving her some space to breathe ... and think ... What was she doing??? Shocked, she sucked in her breath, sending icy tentacles down to her stomach. Panicked, she fumbled with her bow, she couldn't do this ... mustn't ... shouldn't ... wild magic ...

...food...

She had been promised food, but she didn't like this food much, it was much too dangerous.

Scuttling across the ceiling, the giant spider found her stomach awfully empty.

There! A neat meat package seemed rather stunned, she saw her chance and let herself drop onto the leathery meal ... or rather right into a bright field of light making her miss her aim. Stunned, it took her a moment to regain control of her eight unwilling appendages, then she centred her eight-eyed gaze on the two-legged food again ... there.

Within an instant, the strange calm around her shattered, throwing her into the middle of a frenzied battle while threads of magic wildly whipped across the room, leaving behind bright trails of light but mercifully doing little damage though her heart missed a beat when one went straight through Bloodstalker who, strangely, didn't even flinch.

With a yelp, she jumped as a pack of small spiders attacked her leg, crawling up on it with amazing speed. Flayling wildly at them she finally fled backwards towards the centre of the room, scraping them off madly, sending more than one of them straight towards Fang's jaw.

Finally, she bumped hard into something bloated and furry, but she had barely time to yelp again before a thin blade sliced through the air, neatly severing the head off the spider.

She was beginning to get annoyed, first some stupid smaller cousins of her tried to steal her food away, making it flee, and now a dump scythed one had to attract the attention of another blood-blob. That food was hers! Angered, she launched herself at her meal, forgetting the rest ... her leap ended in sudden pain.

In a flash, Aegis whirled by her, just in time to halve another spider in full flight as it launched itself at Mysteria. "Get a grip!", he hissed towards her, already diving towards the next foe.

Suddenly, she had the drow blade in her right, while her trusted short sword sprang into her left, and she launched herself after the elf.

Yshania · Post by **Yshania** » Fri Nov 15, 2002 7:49 pm

Covered in spider entrails, she turned, dragging her sword filled fist to destroy the slim shimmering lengths that clung to her flesh. Wallowing within this calm bestowed, she turned to face the next menace. A spark grew before her, winding lengthways – so much higher than she stood -- and downwards either side like a creeping vine, a malicious vine. Her druid heart ached to watch the cancer unfold, to witness this abhoration as the gate opened before her and the zillion particles collated and manifested before her eyes. The dark knight, the cambion, stood proud…his feet set sturdily apart, his heavy blade ready and calmly waiting.

His great chest heaved a single sigh as he stared threateningly and patronisingly down upon her diminutive form almost wearily challenging his purpose here. She looked to search his face as was instinctive, she searched for…something. Nothing but the glowering eyes from a helm, the seething hatred. As if in slow motion, she rotated her blades in a quiet and half-hearted threatening circle around her wrists, and again they met horizontally and point to point. Slowly, her blades departed, then again met vertically. She began to back away…

Waves of fear descended, here she faced a soldier of supreme darkness…not the average fodder, one of purely evil intent and higher intelligence. But through it all she had faced it, she had stood as tall as she could. Having come so far, she now set her jaw and bitterly challenged the cambion to do his worst. Allowing for the trajectory of the great sword, she continued to back up. Then a jolt found her back to back with a quick glance over her shoulder Thalimon.

Suddenly and inexplicably bolstered she cried “In the name of the Mother and for all that you offend” she flew forwards at the dark manifestation as it raised it huge blade above its head planning one single and fatal strike…

Yshania · Post by **Yshania** » Fri Nov 15, 2002 8:41 pm

Her mind devoid of all reason, and careless of her promise to herself to hold her blade, she flew at this personification of darkness and evil. To her, it stood larger than the drow force, because it stood alone...summoned by, but independant of, and fuelled by the fear of its intended victim and its own hatred. Its very presence offended all that was balanced, it's traversal of the planes and directed threat more than she was able to bear. The crawling mass of spiders now forgotten, she became singularly focused, to either strike or be struck. Suddenly, in this moment of madness, she dismissed any rational comparison of might and any thought of failure...

As his great sword made its descent, she drove her own scimitar through a weakness in his armour beneath his arm, powered by momentum, and found the blackened heart. Her whole body shaking with exertion, she managed to thrust the steel in deeper before falling away and rolling beyond the interrupted cleave of his huge blade...

A nightmarish scream pierced her ears as the cambion swung around and raised his sword again. Crippled by the scimitar buried deep in his chest, his right arm hung limp, whilst his left arm struggled to raise the mighty sword again. Now unarmed and scrambling backwards across the cavern floor, Yshania awaited the blade...

Chanak · Post by **Chanak** » Fri Nov 15, 2002 9:47 pm

The Wraith spiders backed away...Thalimon stepped forward, the cry of the Raptu keening in the air. There is no quarter in reaches of the Mistress...

A dull, throbbing ache began to pulse at the base of the tiefling's skull, reaching up and down his spine. His eyes narrowed...sniffing the air, he could detect a trace of sulfur within the wash of blood and death.

An impact upon his back caused him to turn, whirling to meet the next threat in the eye of the storm. Yet he found Yshania his friend standing there before him, her blades at the ready, her face a mask of fury...

Fire-eyes faced a Demon Knight, a cambion lord from the layers of the Abyss, the very antithesis of Thalimon and Nippy. Evil emanated in waves from the hulking warrior, steam rising from his black plate of adamant, aglow with crimson runes of blasphemous power. A horned helm cast his visage in impenetrable shadow, revealing only burning eyes of hate, and the white fangs of his cruel sneering visage.

As Lyrkuul raised his great black blade high into the air, the skulls which hung about his waist, trophies of the Blood War, clattered together in death's chime...

With a cry Yshania rushed forward, a moment before Thalimon had an opportunity to react...she flung herself with abandon upon the anti-paladin, meeting his mighty blow with the steel of her swift scimitars...

The lithe avenger struck true, locating a weakness in the pauldron of the cambion's right arm...her strike was rewarded by the release of the black blood of the cambion, generously spurting from the wound of her precise attack....

The great sword struck the stone floor wild, sending chunks of debris hurtling in a shower of sparks. The Demon Knight howled with rage, lifting his blade free of his stricken arm as Yshania tumbled to the side. The mortal had wounded Lyrkuul, Lord of a thousand slaves...

He turned upon Yshania, spitting fire from his great helm, intent upon cleaving the druid in two. His sword thundered downwards to meet the druid as she lay upon the floor, helpless...

The Knight reeled as the force of his smite was met by an equivalent force, barring the way of his blade of doom...

As the jarring impact of the parry subsided, Lyrkuul looked upon Thalimon as he stood above Yshania his friend, holding the anti-paladin at bay, the blazing radiance of Avenger holding his own brand aloft...

Thalimon Shestare smiled....

dragon wench · Post by **dragon wench** » Sat Nov 16, 2002 12:54 am

Bespattered with the bloody guts and venom of the disemboweled wraith spiders Tashara breathed calmly inwards and then outwards... reveling in the rush of adrenalin that coursed through her veins. A grim, yet exhilarated, smile settled over her face.... Then she heard it.... a keening wail ...seeking them from the darkness in which it arose.... She turned... a barely restrained fear battered against her heart...and her mouth went dry....

The cambion, a full seven feet, towered above her slight frame...red eyes glimmering from behind a sinister helm. Intuitively, she realized that any rational thought would have left her, had Thalimon not been nearby. Profoundly grateful for her brother's proximity, she steadied herself and thought also of Shalimar....whose presence had evoked such fortitude and inner peace.

Despite the cries and screams echoing about the cavern....Tashara suddenly heard nothing beyond her own breathing. With surreal calm, she focused her entire being upon the blade held tautly in her hand, and then before the cambion realized her intent, she nimbly spun on her heels and slid her sword into an overlap of armour. The resulting enraged grunt confirmed she had found her mark. Before she could thrust again, however, the cambion hefted his great sword and took aim..... crimson eyes searing into her own...

With precision and deadly accuracy...he moved to bring the sword down upon the puny human mortal before him.... his eyes mocking and sneering.....defying her to evade the certain death his blow would promise. Just before the black blade struck....Tashara deftly dodged aside. As she did...she could not help but notice, due to the height differential, that her foe might be particularly vulnerable below the waist....

Her eyes met those of the cambion....and a wicked light suddenly flickered in the blue orbs...... The darkness she tried to keep locked deep within welled up... as though pulled by the hypnotically evil crimson that was Zaithan's gaze. Again he bore down...this time she was not as quick; despite successfully rolling from its full reach a gash to her arm demonstrated the blade's evil power..... and she felt herself weaken.

Anger sprang up and with a primal scream she lunged...her sword slashed through armor into tender flesh. The cambion emitted an agonized groan and clutched his loins... Seizing her advantage she drove her long sword again..... from somewhere claiming a visceral pleasure in the pain she wrought....

Yet...her opponent had the advantage of regeneration...and even though blood pooled about the rents of his armor...the wounds themselves diminished by the second.....

His eyes… glazed by pain.... once more met her own.... locking her in a stare that was nearly as unbreakable a grip as death itself.... Wrenching away.....Tashara again plunged her blade..but this time he blocked her move... it was only by virtue of a rapid roll into the nearby corpse of a spider that she managed to evade what would have been a swift and brutal death.

Each held by a desire to clutch onto this thing called life...they circled one another..... Muscles coiled...waiting for the opening... that would spell the other's demise... the window of death...

Blood poured from her arm....draining her strength.... Her sword remaining at the ready.... she sought her belt and grasped the healing potion she knew was there. He laughed...yet behind his derision lay a mote of respect...The lingering pain in his loins reminded him that this small human was a skilled and able fighter.

As the darkness ebbed from her...Tashara felt a new appreciation for the evil that could drive the mortal soul... and oddly, a sudden empathy gripped her as she yet again felt herself drawn to the mesmerizing red gaze.

Tashara tore herself away....desperately wanting this dance of death to reach its inevitable conclusion.... "But it could go on forever" she thought...... then she remembered Shalimar's amulet..... and the spells locked within..... For a moment she searched Zaithan's eyes.... a final gesture for the music they had shared.... She cast her voice skywards... and invoked the spell..... Sudden silence.....and then the rain began.....