Mortality's Triumph
Second Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC
Teana's form ripples as one of her shadow duplicates separates and moves deeper into the chamber, an anchor for swift escape should battle go poorly, before conjuring
a snarling spectral wolf to serve as her guard. All the while, Zherys writes runes of warding into the air to bar any foe who would approach him.
For her part, Rina draws a long slow breath and utters a spell, one not of frost but of something
darker by far. Her already fair skin turns waxen, her unbound hair becoming a halo of darkness around her head. Were it not for her eyes still showing the same spark of dogged courage, you would think her again in the thrall of the Others upon their icy thrones. If this was another time, another place, then you would ask again if she is well, but battle calls and so you speak only a word of fire, shields of
boiling water rippling across all your company.
With final preparations complete, you swim though the hole edged in white hot iron to at last lay eyes upon your foe, a sphere of ever-shifting flame and elder glyphs that mark both its service to Ymeri and the tale of its being. No eyes has it, only a crown of fire wrought to mark which way it turns, but even were you blind you would know the weight of N'Gath's hateful gaze. A spell of unbinding you speak into being, to strip its wards and protections... but the creature's fire merely
consumes it with seemingly no will or effort in the doing. Without pausing for breath, you turn your gaze to ice, seeking to
entomb it by the water that hisses angrily against its fiery form, but this too is thwarted. by a flick of the foe's flames.
Perhaps the foe grows tired, though, for when Zherys flashes a line of black force between them, the spell finds its mark. It does not slay the foe utterly as it might have almost any lesser being, but draws a hiss of pain nonetheless.
"You should have taken my offer!" the herald of Ymeri roars. You know not if it speaks to you or the lord of Volantis, but N'Gath's answering curse is obviously meant for Zherys, a chain of white-hot sorcery to strangle life and magic from him.
"My power is not yours to take, creature," the High Speaker proclaims, severing the chain with his staff before it can fully form.
As though emboldened by the word, Teana's wolf charges the herald to restlessly bite a mouthful of flames, even as they begin to unravel its own form. As for the sorceress herself, she weaves of shadow a spell of to steal N'Gath's mind, though it scarce seems to notice.
"Such feeble sorcery this failing age possesses," the fire spirit mocks.
"I shall purify you all in flame, as the forge purifies steel, and only those worthy shall have the honor of serving..."
You would never know what honor the servant of Ymeri spoke of, for in that moment Rina speaks a single word that seems to echo from the depths of some forgotten grave, one uttered in all mortal tongues and none:
"Die."
The flames of N'Gath go out like like a candle before the cold breath of the northern wind, not one more word to mark its passage.
***
Your eyes snap open to the sight of soot stained stone and blackened wood, no trace of the luxurious study you had seen in the vision remaining. The specter of Tagar remains unchanged. Ser Richard has not shifted an inch from where you had last seen him, but Bennero came to lean over Rina. "Are you entirely well, my lady?" the priest asks carefully.
"Yes, it's only a spell, I..." she begins uncertainly, looking down at hands that seemed to have long suffered the touch of the grave.
"I assumed as much," the Flame Keeper assures her. After a moment's hesitation, he adds. "It is a heavy burder you bear, one many are willing to help you with as much as can be done, but also a great honor."
Rina looks up at the old priest, the disbelief in her eyes louder than words.
"Death is not itself an evil, nor is the night the rightful domain of horrors that would consume us all. By the arts you wield, you reclaim both, at least in some small measure, and in doing so you remind us all that the Enemy can be not only driven back for a time, but defeated utterly, cast out from the world of form," he continues, the words soft and kind, but the belief behind them unshakable as stone.
Turning to face you, he adds, "Now come, I believe we have much work ahead of us removing any dangerous relics and remains from this house lest they fall into the wrong hands," this too he means, of course, but from the faint shadow of a smile in the corner of his mouth, you suspect he knows full well how much you wish to claim those relics he spoke of, and from the looks of it he minds not at all.
"Indeed," Zherys agrees. "I would very much like to know just what the Awkening was and how the Herald of Ymeri came to be called."
What do you do next?
[] Question the wraith
-[] Write in
[] Search the House for N'Gath's remains and any other magical artifacts or lore than may have survived the fire
[] Write in
OOC: The way I fluffed Epic Counterspell was as a sort of reactive super SR, so he did not get the normal SR a CR 23 fey would have gotten. Not yet edited.