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Kiira'Tiru III; Continued explorations
Topic Started: Mar 10 2007, 05:41 PM (2,064 Views)
Pamela
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Molly
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Llana’s wings fluttered as if trying to shrug off the torn bits of bloody flesh. She however was not conscious of this movement as she took one more quick look around the battlefield. A smile crossed her lips as her husband taunted the demon. If only he’d save it for his real enemies…

The smile disappeared as she saw Anaara fall to her knees. Her mind quickly raced through the registry of injuries, and the priestess’ were deemed the most critical. However, as she began to turn her way, her plan was cut short by the Drow’s disappearance. Well, she’ll probably healing herself, she thought, and turned to the next pair who ranked equally high in priority. The barbarian’s preternatural speed was taking him farther away from her as he sped towards the taurine fiend. Kellindel was standing alone, and was now flanked by the two tanar’ri as the second teleported ahead of her.

She turned quickly towards the arcane archer, and murmured her name as she approached. She didn’t want him to accidentally strike out at her as some potential enemy. She slipped behind his back, out of his way, and touching his shoulder, quietly prayed to Sune for his well-being.
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tarlyn
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Tarlyn eyes the Arrow Demon for a moment and smiles. His right hand points at the Arrow Demon, fingers outstretched. Then turning his hand palm up, an orb appears over it. Tarlyn concentrates slightly and the 3 foot orb flies across the room straight at the Arrow Demon....
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Darkwind
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ooc: Greg casts Magic Missile at the snake, lets loose with the two bolts at the dino and keeps them all within reach of the ring. Avelaer takes a move action to reach the farther Arrow demon and a standard action to attack it.

"Well, what am I supposed to do with you two?" He addressed the animals as he dodged their attacks. "Why don't you go pick on someone your own level and not make me waste any more spells on you?" He let loose with the charges in his hands, aiming again at the dinosaur. And once more he made every attempt to keep them just out of reach but just close enough to be struck by the ring of lightning surrounding him. Just so that the constrictor doesn't feel left out or ignored, though, he unbound enough to cast Magic Missile at it. "I mean, seriously, why not make like a tree and leave? So many of your allies have done so already, and look how alive they are..."

While the sorcerer was wasting his breath arguing with summoned animals, Avelaer had to scramble to catch up with the teleporting fiend. Something'll have to be done about them--I can't be running after them every few seconds. As soon as he could reach it, he very deliberately struck with his rapier, looking more to surprise the demon and draw its attention away from the others.
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Castamir
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Skafloc wasn't put off by the blood, his or otherwise, nor was he particularly finding the fact that he was being followed by a perpetual puddle of the stuff detrimental to his balance. He was used to such things, wading knee deep through gore was an occupational hazard he had long grown accustomed to.

He wasn't really in a position to deeply contemplate such things anyway, he was lost in a trancelike state induced by adrenaline, focus, rage and probably also blood loss. The world around him appeared to be moving in slow motion, and despite his injuries he felt invincible, like an avatar for some wild god of painful vengeance. The exact nature of the sacrifice being offered up was open to debate, he was certainly sending blood tribute by virtue of his axe, but he was equally taking damage just as willingly.

The small but important part of his mind that registered his friends moving about him acknowledged the presence of Fade as well as the assassin, and he limited his axe swings to prevent 'collateral damage', though it would have been a fool who simply stepped between the Ghour and the barbarian without an invitation.

There was a sense of urgency in Skafloc's actions, eager as he was to move onto the being responsible for much of their trouble so far.
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eocine
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All that the werewolf remembered was being struck by the huge bull-demon, so it was with some surprise that he opened his eyes seconds later and could see nothing but a series of narrow stone passages stretched out before him and behind him. Frantically he twisted his head back and forth as he tried to puzzle out exactly what had happened.

Cleary he’d been transported somewhere, but where? And more importantly how did he get out of the situation that he now found himself in?

Unfortunately his lack of any real experience with magic, coupled with the general isolation from civilization that his tribe had willingly experienced, and there was little chance of his truly understanding what had occurred.

That being the case he resorted to what he knew was generally the best way to find his way out, and bent his head to the extra-dimensional mazes floor and sniffed carefully, trying to pick up some kind of scent that could help him escape.
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eocine
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Kellindel smirked to himself as the Demon scampered off down the corridor, driven temporarily insane by the effects of what was probably the bardic archer’s most potent offensive spell.

His most potent weapon however was most certainly his bow, and this time it was this that he brought to bear against one of the Arrow Demon’s. As his fingers ran over the enchanted wooden handle it seemed to hum slightly as he focused his will on the arrow that rested against the strings.

A trio of holy missiles streaked across the room and plunged hungrily into the chosen target, smoldering and burning at the abyssal flesh.

In a momentary flaring of triumph Kellindel clenched his fist and pumped it back and forth vigorously, which was perhaps slightly incongruous in the middle of a battle.

“Bo-Ya!”

He’d been about to follow up that gem of battlefield comment with a general insult relating to the promiscuity of the Demon’s mother, when he heard Llana call out her name from behind him. “Actually no, I’m Kellindel…I’m pretty sure Llana’s your name.” He replied, then cursed himself for his predilection towards bad jokes in times of maximum peril.

Fortunately for the archer the Sunite healed him anyway…
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eocine
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Never one to risk her own skin unnecessarily Anaara’s immediate concern was getting herself to some position of safety as fast as she could, and with as little potential damage to herself as she could manage. Fortunately the magic of her most recent prayer still hung around her, and that made things far easier as far as stealth was concerned.

Wincing at the pain in her side she backed herself against the wall and slid down it, clamping a hand against the bleeding wound and then offering up a whispered prayer to the Spider-Queen for healing.

Almost immediately the pain began to subside, and she could feel only a warm ache where once there had been searing agony. Taking a breath she prodded carefully at the healing wounds, eventually declaring herself contented with her state. As her red eyes scanned the battlefield she locked eyes on the Demon who had perforated her perfect ebon skin with his infernal arrows and swore revenge…
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eocine
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“As I said… Only about half as smart as a normal cow.”

Sneered the assassin as Skafloc hewed at the monster’s back, leaving the huge beast reeling.

As the monster span away from him he shook his head in slightly amused manner, before flipping his blades around in his hands and hacking down again and again into the wounds that Skafloc had already opened in the powerfully muscled back of the Demon.

A pity really that he hadn’t been able to spend a little longer driving the abyssal brute beyond the point of fury, but there would of course be time for that later on. Karosin had been compared to a cat before by his wife, it wasn’t something that he agreed with per se, but he did like to play with his ‘food’, so perhaps there was something there.

As soon as he’d whipped his blades free, making sure of course to flick the blood anywhere but over himself, he spun to the side and ducked into a bow.

“Your turn my dear Abyssal ‘princess’”.
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eocine
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Posting for Mistress E.

Blood arched away off Karosin’s blades as he whipped them clear of the flesh of the bovine Demon, most of it splattering against the stone wall by their side, but some of it splashed across Fade’s face, painting it in crimson and giving her even more the cast of the Demon-kin that she was.

And some of it splattered across her lips.

Unable to help herself in her combat rapture she couldn’t help but pull her lips back and suck the blood back onto her tongue. The taste both disgusted and inflamed her, a consequence of the increasing duality of her nature.

One thing it did though was bring her most aggressive and primal instincts to the fore…

With a fury that matched Skafloc’s, she also flung herself towards the giant being, hacking down again and again with wild and reckless abandon, crooning some unexplained war cry as she tried to hack through muscle and bone to get through to the beast’s vital organs.
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eocine
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As Anaara watched it soon became apparent to her that her dreams of revenging herself on the Demon were unlikely to come to fruition, for the simple fact that it looked as though the Abyssal archer would be dead before she could get her hands on it… At least if the fact that he now had three arrows jutting out of his chest was anything to go by.

The Arrow Demon staggered backwards, its face taking on a quasi comical cast as it looked down at the protruding shafts with what appeared to be bewilderment. Using one of it’s free hands the four armed demon began to tug at one of the arrows, dragging it free and then dropping it to the floor.

Again it made ready to fire, drawing back the string and drawing a bead on the Elven archer…

At least until the Orb of Acid Tarlyn had hurled in his direction engulfed the demon’s head. There was a brief pause, before the creatures legs bucked out from under it, and it dropped to the floor dead.

Elsewhere Greg’s two beastly opponents did little to actually harm him, the sorcerer easily evading both of their clumsy attacks, before the ever circling ring of lighting that surrounded him blasted the serpent to ruins and seared a huge wound across the tyrannosaur’s chest, that the martyred spell-caster was able to follow it up with a pair of lighting bolts that caused the beast to stagger backwards was surely the icing on the cake.

There were just two demons remaining on the battlefield, and both of them were engaged in pitched melee combat, or in the case of the Arrow Demon at least something that approximated to it.

As the Elf ran towards him the demon took aim and fired, but the arrow flew just to high, Avelaer’s magically assisted speed just managing to speed him out of the arrow’s path, but he could nevertheless feel the air ruffle his hair as the missile hurtled over his head.

Caught on it’s heels the planar being was unable to block Avelaer’s first attack, and suffered a deep cut across the ribs.

However something that soon came clear to the blade-singer was that the demonic archer he faced was not as hopeless in melee combat as would perhaps easily be expected.

Utilising the fact that it had twice as many arms as he did the demon managed to weave its arms in such a way that he was still able to fire the bow at what was a hugely close range. Still Avelaer was able to twist away from most of these shots, or use his blade to alter the angle of the arrows. He did this almost flawlessly.

Almost.

One of the shots did manage to get away almost clean, and though it deflected off the hilt of Avelaer’s sword-bow all that did was alter its trajectory, and the thick shafted arrow drove through stone-skin enchantment, magical mail, skin and muscle before lodging into the Elf’s shoulder.

On the other side of the room the combination of Skafloc, Fade and Karosin were, perhaps predictably, making short work of the remaining Ghour, with the fey’ri and the barbarian hacking it to its knees before Skafloc sent it horned head flying by cleaving it from the demon’s massive shoulders.
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Castamir
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The barbarian, full of adrenaline and fury screamed in victory as the Ghour's head thumped to the floor, and turned his bloody gaze on the rest of the room, seeking out another subject upon which to vent his bottomless pit of anger.

With only one demon left on the immediate battlefield and still have some rage to exorcise, Skafloc moved quickly, breaking into a run, his wounds oozing and dripping his own blood as his heart pumped faster and harder than most normal human hearts could take.

He flailed his axe as he stormed across the room and shouted a challenge of sorts to the thing, lest it decided it's time might be better spent elsewhere.

"I'M GONNA CUT YOUR F**KING HEAD OFF YOU FOUR ARMED B*STARD!"

Skafloc's poetic ability had never matched his ability to hit things with an axe.
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Darkwind
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Considering the nature of the remaining opponents, it was unlikely that he would be able to do much more good in the current melee, so once he was sure the animals were dead, Greg turned his attention to the wall which--presumably--blocked their way to Big V himself. It was possible that he would be able to pass through it, by taking a shortcut through the Astral Plane, and in that case he would be able to bring everyone else as well. But not at once. He could try to dispel it, but that might not work and he'd end up wasting a spell. He picked up a piece of the nearby debris and threw it at the wall, to see what sort of effect that would elicit.

Avelaer was almost too amazed to feel pain, and wasted a second blinking stupidly at the shaft protruding from his shoulder. To his him so squarely, at such range, and without even being able to see him..! He snapped out of it and reached over to break off the shaft of the arrow, leaving the arrowhead where it was--who knew whether it was barbed or lodged in an artery or what have you. Fortunately it was his left shoulder, and he was able to keep attacking without problem. This he did, stabbing at the beast with his rapier.

ooc: Avelaer launches a full attack. Greg studies the wall for lack of anything better to do--demons are immune to electricity--and tests it with a rock.
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eocine
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Though slightly embittered at the fact that she wouldn’t be able to gain any measure of revenge against the demon, Anaara was at least able to gain some vicarious pleasure at the way the beast had died, for seeing it have its face melted away had certainly appealed to her vicious side. Given that he’d been slain though she saw no reason to move away from the slight resting place that the wall provided.

Better that she should save her strength for when it truly mattered, after all there was little point in risking her life for any of the chattel she travelled with…
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eocine
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Turn after turn after turn, but there seemed to be no way out for the werewolf as he darted through the maze, his stamina virtually limitless in his lupine form, enabling him to run flat out though the dimensional trap.

Maddeningly there had been no scent there at all, nor even the odour of clean air to latch on to. Instead everything had an omnipresent sterility, pure walls and ceiling, lit by some unimaginable magic that shone a cold light that bounced off every surface.

The bright lights bothered his eyes, and tears streamed backwards onto his thick coat as Caine fought to keep his eyes open in the light. To close them would have been foolhardy in the extreme, for the turns came up so sharply he would surely have ploughed into one of the walls.

After a time though he began to see the futility of what he was doing, realising that there seemed to be no end to the maze, which in essence was true…

Yet if there was no end… Then where was the beginning?

So frustrating to try and think as a wolf!

Canine’s retracted, and fur shrank back beneath the skin, even as his bones snapped back into place.

Just a few moments later and he was standing, and thinking, as a man.

Again he thought about how to find his way out of the maze… And decided, instead of heading forwards, to head backwards… It was something that perhaps shouldn’t have worked, and wouldn’t have worked at another time, but this time…

From thin air he stepped back onto the battlefield.
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Pamela
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The Sunite only registered Kellindel’s joke as she was casting her spell. She shook her head with a small smile, even as her attention was drawn to the magical skein which connected her to the rest of the party. The spell seemed to give tuggings towards the injured; the stronger the tug, the worse the wound. Anaara’s injuries were already healing; nobody was now in danger of death. Still, she flew towards the barbarian, with a quick brief glance at the wall to make sure that the fey’ri weren’t appearing just yet.

Heal him, then focus on our defenses once more, she thought to herself. There’ll be time enough to heal the rest- and better to wait till we see the extent of his next offense…
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eocine
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As Llana turned away Kellindel characteristically took a few seconds out of his battle time to do some good old fashioned rear end ogling, before reluctantly dragging his eyes away and focusing on the heaving great cow-demon thing instead.

From the sublime to the ridiculous…ly ugly.

Fortunately for both the arcane-archer and his two companions, Avelaer and Skafloc, Kellindel was more than used to firing into melee combat, and so was confident enough in his skills to take the shots that presented themselves…
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eocine
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A combination of Skafloc’s axe, Avelear’s rapier and Kellindel’s arrows slammed home into the huge demon, which buckled at the knees and dropped to the floor, dead before its bovine skull spit open against the stone…

For a moment, other than the heavy breathing of some of the combatants there was silence that floated across the battlefield.

It was a silence that was broken by the gentle clattering of the piece of debris that Greg had thrown, bouncing off the wall.
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Castamir
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Skafloc's red rimmed eyes glazed over for a moment as he dropped into a crouch, seemingly attempting to suck all the air out of the room with each massive breath.

He stood again, wincing in pain as he straightened, only now seeming to register the many wounds and penalties of being mortal, his hands shaking visibly as the effects of the massive quantities of adrenaline pumping through his veins subsided. Not unlike an addict entering withdrawal.

He spat out the bitter bile he had forming in his mouth and popped the stopper off his waterskin, taking a few gulps before speaking.

"I'm getting too old for this.." he muttered.
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Pamela
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Llana raced up behind the barbarian, and touching his shoulders, cast her spell. All of Skafloc’s wounds faded in a matter of seconds. She then began to make her way among the others, healing them as they examined the wall of force which blocked their way to Vaerilmor. She had mixed feelings over the situation; they now had time to prepare for the next round of combat… But then, so had the fey’ri sorceror and his powerful ally.

It doesn't matter now- the wall is there, so take advantage of the break. She called out to Greg, “How long do you think it will take to dismiss it?”
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tarlyn
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Looking around and making sure that Llana has in fact healed everyone, Tarlyn concentrates on the wall. Uttering a few arcane phrases, his fingers and hands moving intricately, Tarlyn casts Dispel Magic on it.

Once done he looks for another door or exit.
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eocine
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The wall fizzled for a moment and then vanished, leaving the party free to step forwards into the room beyond it…

As they peered into the room beyond, all prepared for whatever they were to face it might be fair to assume that that didn’t expect to see an empty room, no matter how curiously bare it was in other respects…

One thing stood out amongst the others in the room, the presence of what Avelear and a few others recognised as a Portal, though it went without saying that there was no obvious method for discerning where it would lead.
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Pamela
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Once the barbarian was healed, Llana gauged the others’ wounds via her spell. There were minor injuries for the most part, except for Avelaer. She called to the bladesinger, offering her aid; once that was dealt with, she watched Tarlyn’s dismissal of the wall.

She followed the others warily into the room, prepared for another assault. The empty stillness did not comfort her. Was this an illusion, or a trap? Where is he?

She considered the oval-shaped object before. It seemed to be made of ivory, and resembled a scrying pool focused on the plane of fire. Is it? she wondered to herself, and the stillness of the room struck her with a horrible possibility. She examined her own magical repertoire, then shook her head. “Could someone cast a simple spell of divination- one of those prohibited by the shard?” If they’ve teleported away, just how far…?
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eocine
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Anaara drifted back into view, looking none the worse after her earlier encounter with the business end of a series of arrows. “Surely we waste time with this discussion?” Asked the Drow, more of herself than anything else. She tilted her head towards what she recognised to be a portal.

“Would it not have made sense that he would have escaped? After all he has no doubt seen us tear through his men like so much paper… That kind of a display would surely send him back with his tail between his legs.” Her blood still ran with the fever of battle at this point, and much of her more normal caution had been lost to it.

Still she couldn’t see what was to be gained by waiting, for all that would be happening was that Vaerilmor could be putting even more time between himself and the party…
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Castamir
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Skafloc's injuries faded and he felt the warm rush that healing spells seemed to cause within him. He frowned momentarily, glancing at the Sunite and nodding a grudging thanks. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate being healthy again, it was just...

...well he wasn't ever sure if healing amounted to cheating death or not. He wasn't in the business of cheating death. Resisting it with every fibre of his being, laughing in it's face, and generally dancing with death yes, but cheating it, that wasn't on his agenda.

Still he knew the party had more use of him alive and well, and he certainly could mete out more violence in top condition than he could at death's door, so he accepted his fate with a shrug, and ventured into the area previously blocked by the wall.

He walked up the oval 'object'. Curious, but not touching it. He knew from experience it was better for him to leave such discoveries to those more learned than he, though Anaara's words had him grinning a little, for he enjoyed battle more than most, and those thoughts were ones he agreed with. The coward had clearly run.

He was eager to follow. Even if the path led to Hell. Killing these otherworldly creatures was tougher, but Skafloc liked a challenge.
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Darkwind
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"Are you trying to find out whether he took the object we're looking for with him, Llana? Unfortunately, I can't help you there, since my magical abilities are rather miniscule."

"I wish I could help, but I just don't know a spell that would be blocked by that thing... If someone has a scroll, I could certainly use it...?"
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tarlyn
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Tarlyn thought about Llana's request for a Divination spell. As he was both a Priest and a Wizard, remembering them all sometimes was difficult. Mentally going through the list of his spells, he stopped at one in particular. Smiling, he turns to Llana. " I have such a spell and if noone objects, I shall cast it right away. It only takes a minute to cast."

Reaching into his pouch he removes several marbles. Concentrating now, he begins chanting as well as geturing intricately with his fingers. A minute later the marbles disappear.

15 eyes appear around Tarlyn and begin moving around.
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eocine
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Rather than instantly popping back out of existence, as they surely would have done had the crystal shard still been within range, the magical eyes were able to float away from Taryln and complete a cursory sweeping of the immediate area.

Karosin watched the whole ocular spectacle with a soupcon of distaste, for the image of numerous disembodied eyes floating around was nothing if not unusual. Still, it did at least work as some kind of proof that the crystal had indeed been removed from the area. Presumably with the mage as well.

The only question then became whether he left under his own magical power or…
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Pamela
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Llana forced herself to hold her tongue at Anaara’s reply. The Drow rubbed her the wrong way, and she wouldn’t be surprised to find out that the feeling was mutual. She was surprised at the suggestion that the ‘scrying pool’ was actually some kind of teleporting object however, but indulged in the pettiness of not acknowledging her ignorance. Gone to the plane of fire then, as a detour? Again she examined the distant flames and smoke in the oval. Or perhaps a hell?

She was glad to be distracted by Avelaer’s question. “I am,” she said, then turned at Greg’s reply, smiling with a shrug. “The spells I have are useless as well under these circumstances.”

“Thank you,” she said to Tarlyn, and tried to focus on the spell as it was being cast. Her attention however was distracted by the portal. What if they’ve gone off to gather the rest of their kin, or other allies? She recalled Fade’s reference to an alliance with the Luskan Brotherhood.

The mystic theurge’s ability to cast the spell confirmed her suspicions. “The crystal’s gone, so at least one of them’s taken it away. I suppose the others might still be somewhere on the grounds.” She reached into the bag she carried over her shoulder, and pulled out a scroll. “Greg, can you send a message to the Mist-Master to let him know the situation here? We do have the dwarves below that require help, as well as the poor dragon. We don’t have the slaves…” Her voice trailed off as she recalled their plight. “But we know they’re somewhere down the river. They won’t be hidden by the shard’s protections anymore, so he can send his forces to rescue them.” This brought a shade of relief and ease to her features.

She turned back to the others. “It will take ten minutes for Greg to prepare the sending; I plan to use this time to commune. I’d appreciate your suggestions. I am worried about a potential ambush,” she said, gesturing to the oval, “But I also don’t want to end up in the plane of Fire or some similar place, where we will end up fighting the terrain’s native hostility as well as our enemies.” She grimaced as she recalled aloud, “I think we had enough of that in the evoker’s quarters yesterday. The Mist-Master also might have some insights into where this is,” she said, gesturing at the portal. “Unless one of you know…?”
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Pamela
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As Greg prepared his own spell, Llana produced a vial of holy water and a brazier with a small cone of rose incense. She poured the water into a ring around herself, then knelt before the brazier. She meditated upon the rising curl of smoke, composing her mind and thoughts, till the silence was met with a warm, loving presence. Now, all thoughts of the dangers around her were gone as she smiled and slipped into communion with her goddess. In the safety of this tranquil state, she presented her questions.
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eocine
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The warming aura that Llana felt spread easily though the rest of the gathered group, as well as an indefinable feeling of well being, as the commune brought a fraction of Sune’s attention onto the party.

A gentle female voice sounded to Llana, in response to her questions.

Is the portal keyed?

No

Is the portal safe?

Unclear

Can we survive the environment this portal leads to?

Yes

Did Vaerilmor pass through this portal in the past hour?

Yes

Did he go to the place we can currently see?

Yes

Did he take the shard of the Gatekeeper's Crystal with him?

Yes

Are any fey'ri besides Fade still in Elvenport?

Yes

Should we go through the portal?

Unclear

Are we in danger of an ambush in the next few hours?

Yes

Do Sarya or her allies know about the Mist-Master's quest?

No

The presence remained with her, awaiting any follow up questions.
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Darkwind
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He accepted the scroll with a nod, and settled himself down on the ground--avoiding the blood pooling around where they fought just a moment ago--and unfurled the scroll. True, he himself did not have the ability to create such for he didn't really have the patience for it, but he could still read the magical writing it contained. As he began the chant which he would have to repeat twenty times over the next ten minutes, he considered how to best use the small number of words the spell allowed him to send. At the end of the final chant, he knew the Mistmaster would hear his words:

"We have located the Gem, but a fey'ri arcanist has it and fled to the Planes. We'll pursue. Call long-distance if needed."
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eocine
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There was a brief pause between the message sent to the Mist-Master and the reply, which was in much the same format.

Understood, proceed as you all see fit and keep me updated when you can.

------

Following on from her earlier questions Llana continued with three more;

Does the portal have a fixed destination?

Yes.

Did anyone else cross the portal with V in the past hour?

Yes.

Is V still on the plane to which this portal goes?

Yes.
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Mistress Elysia
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Wiping blood from her eyes, Fade took a few deep breaths to try to steady herself and shake the adrenaline of the battle from her body. She bore a few scratches, but nothing life threatening - if anything, it would be the memory of the glabrezu bearing down upon her

once more...

that would stay with her longer than any physical wounds.

With a low growl she stopped for a moment and, after a split second internal battle against a rather disturbing urge to begin mutilating their fallen foes, the fey'ri wiped her blades clean upon the nearest corpse; the gesture was largely futile since the majority of them were nothing more than bloody messes, but she manages to clean off the majority of the gore before sliding her blades home. With a slight, almost imperceptible twitch, the rebel then turned upon one heel and joined her comrades.

Glancing at each one of them, Fade discovered that she was actually pleased to see that they were all still alive and had on the whole survived the battle relatively unscathed - that they did not have a repeat performance of the draco-pire incident was a welcome surprise. As Greg sat upon the floor and began to study a scroll and Llana begin to meditate, the rogue crossed her arms over her chest and resigned herself to waiting - as impatient as she was, she did have faith that either one or the other would be able to trace Vaerilmor, and her hunt could begin anew.
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eocine
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As they all individually stepped though the portal they could all feel a sudden lurching, as they were yanked, mind, body and soul towards the target. Obviously most of the party was used to this kind of travel, but even to the most experienced this seemed an unusually sudden transformation, as if the magic of the portal was drawing on its last reserves to catapult them through the dimensions.

As the portal’s pitching ended the party found themselves staggering forwards a step. It was instantly clear that they were all in a vastly different place to that which they had left. Before them stood two huge but ruined gates, and above their heads a black and purple sky was scarred over and over again by brilliant crimson lightning, and heavy dark clouds seemed to exude a pregnant menace of some kind.

As they looked beyond the huge gates the dust and smoke seemed to obscure all vision beyond, but for a brief moment the heavy clouds parted and a glimpse of what lay beyond was permitted.

A skeletal city spread out before them, once an Elven settlement of great beauty it seemed to have been mostly gutted by fire and collateral damage. Scorch marked boulders lay all about the place, and several of the buildings had been toppled or reduced to rubble.

Directly in front of the party a curiously untouched woodland sat, its natural beauty a curious and direct contrast to all else that could be seen. Leading beyond this odd oasis was a paved road that led to the southern portion of the city.

In the distance and to the left a large tower jutted upwards above the rest of the city, and myriad ramps and pathways led into it, though even from this distance it was clear that both the castle and the paths that might take you there have suffered substantial damage over the course of the years.

Opposite the tower sat another large building, this one though is a gigantic concentric dome, with one great crack running through the centre of it. In some ways it resembled a church of some kind, though that may not have been its only use…

One more building completed a trio of impressive edifices, this one having more in common with a castle than the other two, which appear to be more like a church and a wizard’s tower than anything else.

Suddenly the winds shifted again, and the sights of the city were lost to, but the swirling smoke now reveals movement beyond the gate. Friend or foe they didn’t yet appear to have spotted the party…

One more thing though was instantly obvious to all those that were stood there, they were several members short… Llana, Avelaer, Tarlyn, Fade, Greg, Kellindel and Karosin were all stood in the fire blasted clearing, but Anaara, Caine and Skafloc were not…
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eocine
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As Caine stepped though the portal he felt his head start to spin, and instantly his stomach muscles clenched tightly as he felt his equilibrium start to shift away from the centre of his being and start to affect his sense of balance.

Fortunately for the werewolf in moments the trip was over, and he found himself taking in the sights that were before him.

It would be fair to assume that things looked decidedly different to what he had been led to expect from what he had viewed through the portal in the Crystal Tower…

Rather than a flame and dust-blasted wasteland he could see nothing but rolling hills and verdant trees. Almost instantly he was assailed by a barrage of odors, both familiar and new, that created a veritable collage of tracks that his bestial nature longed to chase after.

Turning back and forth he looked around for signs of the others, but they appeared to have not yet arrived themselves.

He looked again into the woodlands, and spotted slight movement, and instantly his inner wolf was straining at the leash, a leash that was basically a slightly mouldy piece of string, trying to hold back a two hundred and fifty pound lupine killing machine…

In one easy movement he burst forwards, exploding through the undergrowth, howling in joy and fixated on his prey.

If they really needed him then they could find him, after all they’d surely be there before too long…
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eocine
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Anaara’s eyes adjusted instantly to the gloom, and with similar speed she realised that she had not arrived at her expected destination… So where was she? The air was still but warm, and smelt slightly of what could only be described as age, as if it had been there for time immemorial, with not so much as a zephyr to disturb it…

Keeping as quiet as she could she waited for a few moments, torn between the desire for company in this new and unexplained place, and a wish to not be bothered by their petty troubles and moralistic views… After an indeterminable length of time had passed and nobody had arrived she came to the conclusion that there was probably nobody following her any time soon.

This knowledge did not distress her in any way…

Pulling her morning stay out of its loop she made her way forwards carefully, scanning the smooth stone walls for something to orientate herself with.

She hadn’t managed to get more than two-hundred yards down the passageway before the air in front of her seemed to shimmer for a moment, and into view popped a being that appeared to be nothing more than a large pile of melted wax, with one single and central eye.

“Daughter of Lolth, it seems that you return home more through accident than design”.

This wasn’t spoken, rather Anaara could hear the words as they were directly sent into her mind, and she responded in kind, thinking her words rather than saying them, recognising that, whilst she could handle herself in most situations there was still no point in inviting trouble, especially considering that she still didn’t know where she was… though the yochlol’s words were certainly interesting, and suggested that she was either in the Underdark or…

“Correct, daughter of Lolth.”

Confirmed the Demon, “you find yourself in the Demonweb Pits, and fortunately for you, closer to Lolth’s domain’s than those of Ghaundahur or any of the Spider-Queen’s offspring.”

The waxy blob seemed to shudder momentarily, and then started to shift its form, rapidly taking on the shape of a tall and comely female Drow.

“I am Alauniira, Handmaiden of Lolth.

Your arrival at this point is unexpected, but fortuitous daughter of Lolth… There is much for us to accomplish together.”

For the briefest of moments Anaara considered the group that she had recently been attached to, but cast it away in an instant, there was nothing tying her to them other than a shared desire for revenge against the Fey’ri… And that blood-debt would keep well enough…
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Castamir
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Skafloc gripped his axe and raised his free hand to shield his eyes from the bright white light that assaulted them. The contrast between this and the interior of the tower was almost painful.

He blinked his streaming eyes and his vision cleared, confirming what his other senses were already telling him - that this was no plane of fire. It was cold. He was standing on the edge of a long sheer drop, the landscape before him was covered in a blanket of snow and framed with a sweeping mountain range, the peaks of which were lost in clouds..

"Frostmaiden's breath" he muttered as the realisation dawned that was also alone, standing ankle deep in snow, no tracks about him to suggest he'd arrived there with anyone else. Although...

Skafloc frowned, took a deep breath, and spun around, turning his back to the magnificent vista. Now there was very different scene before him. A ruinous scene of broken stonework and battlefield wreckage. Dead and dying dwarves scattered about, laying down or propped up, a few of their more able bodied kin moving slowly amongst them.

Directly in front of him were three heavily armed dwarves, their own axes at the ready.

Their leader, a scarred and blood splattered creature with one eye bandaged up spat at the ground before speaking. "I don't know where ye came from laddie, but yer in the wrong place. Tis certain death for all here, the orcs have us outnumbered and surrounded, pinned up here with nowhere ta go. We cannae take another attack, so we're sending off those who cannae carry an axe, and patching up those that can for a final charge, we're gonna take as many of 'em with us as we can."

Skafloc was silent as he absorbed this information, but then offered the dwarf a toothy grin and slung Brainbiter over his shoulder. He stepped forward and made a quick head count of those survivors who appeared able to wield an axe.

"No, I think you'll find I'm in exactly the right place." he said cheerily, patting the weary dwarf on the shoulder and gesturing towards the battered ramparts.

"Tell me, just how many orcs do you think are out there..."
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eocine
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As befit a preternaturally nimble assassin, Karosin’s sense of balance was barely tested by the magical jolt, but his sense of smell was rapidly overtaken by the choking smoke and dust of the place they had been transported to. Suppressing a cough he pushed a forearm over his mouth before dropping to his knees and rooting through his bag of holding, looking for one of the spare shirts that he kept there.

Once one had been located he pulled one of his daggers free and cut a pair of strips from the back, handing one up to Llana before tying his own about his face to serve as a rudimentary mask against the choking dust. It didn’t work perfectly by any means, but it would be sufficient for the time being and that was what was most important.

This small piece of field tailoring completed he looked upwards for the first time, taking in the scarred skies and the flashes of crimson light that scored across them.

Content enough that the skies, for the moment at least, possessed no real danger he pulled his hood low, relying on the magic woven through it to keep the worst of the elements out. For whilst it wasn’t dangerously hot it was still uncomfortably warm, and the blasting winds had stripped all the moisture away in moments, leaving his throat uncomfortably dry.

Still, given that he had been born and raised amongst the scorching hot regions of the South, this was nothing hugely uncommon to him.

His eyes, entirely human as they were, were little help in this kind of place, he couldn’t penetrate the walls of dust to see what lay beyond the shadow of the massive gates. He’d been about to turn back towards the others when the direction of the wind shifted, and for a moment the vista of a ruined city was laid out before him.

Impressive enough, he conceded, whilst trying to make a mental note of the general direction of the most obvious of the landmarks. In some part of his soul he smiled though, for with the dust, winds, and rubble his enemy would neither see, nor hear, his coming.

The wind then died momentarily, and the city was lost from view once again, what he did spot at this point though were the silhouettes of a group on the other side of the gate.

He’d been about to voice this observation, but when he turned to the others he noted that they were several members down… Ahhh… A promising start to the jaunt, now if we can only lose some of the others soon then I’ll be a far happier man.

Deciding that this didn’t warrant any kind of concern on his part, as he wouldn’t have cared if they were killed in front of him or simply vanished, at least this way it saved on blood spatter, he pointed his dagger towards the gates, “there’s a group ahead”, he said as loud as he dared at the others, trying to ensure that his voice carried above the winds.

Just not too far above the winds.
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tarlyn
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Tarlyn begins casting a simple spell. When done, he feels more comfortable in the heat. As did Karosin, he fashions himself a makeshift mask.
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Mistress Elysia
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Recovering almost immediately from her initial staggering entrance to their new location, Fade almost staggered backwards as the familar stench of smoke filled her nostrils. Shielding her crimson eyes from the dust with one hand, she tried to peer through the dust and smoke to gain as much information regarding their surroundings as possible. Again, she was assaulted by a strange sense of deja vu - the heat, the black and purple sky and the glimpsed skeletal city located before them all reminded her sharply of her abyssal heritage and of her once-cherished home.

Glancing around herslef at her companions, the fey'ri felt a deep jolt within her stomach when it became apparent that three of their companions were no longer with them. Dropping her hand, she turned again and unsheathing her swords, took up vaguely defensive stance; although it was highly likely that they had been seperated during their rather violent magical transportation, she couldn't take the risk that they had fallen afoul to some hidden foe as they arrived. When nothing lurched out of the swirling dust the rogue relaxed slightly, but did not sheath her swords.

"We're missing some..." She near breathed, more commenting to herself than anyone in particular. "Skafloc, Anaara and Caine. Maybe we should..." she allowed herself to trail off, knowing that her suggestion was futile. If they weren't with them, then gods knew where they had ended up. She closed her eyes for a second -

More allies lost...

- before opening them again at the sound of Karosin's voice. Stepping up beside the assassin, the fey'ri peered through the all encompasing dust to where Karson's dagger pointed, and snarled slightly, her tail twitching slightly.

Maybe they knew something about where they were, where Vaerilmor now resided, and where their lost companions were.
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eocine
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Kellindel lurched forwards after the teleportatory jaunt, and stumbled, clipping his own heel with a toe and pitching himself forwards onto the dusty ground. He came up spitting dirt and coughing as a tiny bit of grit had managed to catch itself in his throat, for a few moments this carried on until he was able to pull a hipflask from his bag of holding and slug back a mouthful of schnapps, something he considered justified in drinking in the early mornings, as it was ‘basically a fruit juice’.

Having just about managed to wash down the dust and clear his throat he looked around, instantly regretting it as his eyes felt like they’d been rubbed with sandpaper after just a few moments. And the gods only know what this dry wind will do to my hair… He reflected with resignation.

He whilstled as the city was brought into view by the shifting winds, and then turned to share a remark with Skafloc.

“Errr”.

“Has anyone seen Skaffers and the others?”

Shouted the Elf to the others, not hearing the words of Fade over the howling gale as she pointed out the very same thing. Raising a hand to cover his eyes he scanned the area for a few moments more before he was truly satisfied that they were indeed not there… A pity, I really thought that the Drow and I were rather getting on.

At this point, and possibly unexpectedly, he smiled then laughed at the fact that Skafloc had vanished again. “This always seems to happen with him, one random event after another, he’ll be fine, either killing Orcs or sleeping with vampires”.

When it was pointed out that there were others up ahead he ceased laughing, and pulled his shirt up to cover his mouth, before nocking an arrow and stepping forwards.

“I think I’m going to assume that anything we meet here is hostile…

Unless of course they’re really REALLY attractive”, he corrected himself.
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Pamela
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As Llana waited for the others to emerge from their own venture through the portal, she quickly scanned their immediate environs. She looked up at the sky, wondering if the burgeoning storm had been magically summoned. Her wings rose to form a lean-to against the billows of ash and dust, and her right hand rose to cover her nose and mouth until she gratefully received Karosin’s proffered gift.

She was puzzled by the juxtaposition of the ravaged city and the pristine forest, then let her eyes rest upon the latter’s comforting beauty, getting another unconscious boost of emotional strength after the commune. Her attention was drawn back however when the smoke obscured the city but revealed its nearest denizens. She folded her wings, then turned to look around at the party.

Dismay was clear as she saw their numbers reduced. She would not pretend any concern over the disappearance of the Drow priestess; if she hadn’t stepped in before her, she would have assumed that Anaara had backed out. Skafloc and the werewolf’s absence did concern her, and she was able to guess what Fade was about to suggest. She saw the others preparing to go forward, and shook her head as she shrugged her shoulders in a helpless gesture. “We are already here, and we’ve no way to get back- or to go wherever they are. Afterwards…” she finished off as she heard Karosin’s warning. Let us pray that they are safe, wherever they are; already we have so many other matters to pursue thanks to this mission, the Sunite thought as she considered the dracopire, silver dragon and fey’ri still behind in Elvenport, as well as the slaves. You may not be able to see us, Mist-Master, but hopefully you’re busy helping us with the rest somehow, she thought grimly.

The disappearance did give her one idea, however. She twisted the simple silver band with the opal, and disappeared from sight. Vaerilmor would have warned his kinsmen and allies about their numbers by now; they would hopefully assume that the party had divided. Even if they are able to divine my presence, they can still worry about the rest… I hope…
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eocine
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“We should do nothing but continue on,” he flatly stated to any thoughts of looking for the others or delaying the quest anymore than was necessary. “Time cannot be wasted on such trivialities, and at this point it would expose us to risk as well.” In truth he was hypocritical on this point, and he could probably dimly register that at the back of his mind, after all were it to have been Llana who hadn’t turned up after their jaunt through the portal then there would be no way that he would be carrying on with the mission, and frankly to the nine hells with everyone else…

Absently he flipped his dagger over and over in his hand, thinking about the next move, “We’ll do this with haste I think, there’s little to be gained from tarrying here and in fact the longer we wait here the better the chances that they’ll make a concerted attack on us, at least if we move out into the city then we’re slightly harder to find.”

Ignoring Kellindel’s words, as it was either that or give the Elf a second smile, he moved forwards, ducking low and holding his cloak close with his elbows and letting it billow enough to disguise his shape without expanding it enough to make it stand out amongst the dusty skies. As he moved closer he could see a small fire that still smouldered, though it was clearly one that they had created, there was also the ruined remains of a hut, as well as a large and much patched tent that stood to one side of the gate.

The beings were still silhouetted though, but despite that he could tell that none of their number were human… But then nor were they Fey’ri or any other race that were of a size with humans, instead there were several there that stood at least twice the height of a man, though they were stood at the bottom of a small flight of stairs, that had served to disguise this when seen from a distance.

Creeping ever closer he eventually made it to the gates, about twenty-five feet away from the outskirts of the small camp that the beings had made. Flattening himself against it he edged to the side before taking the chance of peering at the opponents, trying to work out exactly what it was that they faced…

Wonderful… More of those disgusting dog-demon things.

He could also make out a tall, almost skeletally thin being, clad in armor and holding a pitted great axe down by its side. With its black skin and pointed ears from where he was it almost looked like a giant Drow. However when it turned and allowed him to see it in profile that comparison was instantly proved false, as this creature had a feral cast, as well as a mouthful of sharp teeth and glowing yellow eyes.

As he looked more closely he could see a swirling mist around the monster, independent of the dust storm, one that seemed disturbing in some way, and it was only with a closer look that he could actually see faces appear in this magical effect.

There really are some entirely repellent creatures out there…

Still, he seemed to have managed to approach unseen, and so he gestured for the others to approach, before watching the Glabrezu nearest the ruined building carefully, not even looking up when he felt Llana tap him on the shoulder as she moved closer. When everyone was in position he span around the gatepost and then crept on the other side of the ruined building, using it to help him flank the Glabrezu he’d been studying.

Silently he appeared behind the demon, and plunged his dagger upwards into its back, before hacking again and again with both of his weapons and waiting for his companions to make their moves.
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Pamela
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The Sunite rose among the billows of smoke, keeping an eye on her companions as they engaged in combat. Flurries of soot swept by her- and vanished as they came into contact with her invisible form. I should make quite a sight by the end of this flight, she thought bemusedly. She then sniffed at the thick, choking air, and added to herself, A strong olfactory presence too… Fortunately, their foes would not be any different, so they wouldn’t notice it.

Again Llana looked down, and saw her husband and Fade standing alone with their foes. Selfishly, she wished the barbarian was present to protect them- and thanked her goddess that Karosin would never hear her mouth that particular thought. The flight of most of the arrows were often lost to her sight in the thick black coils, but the rainbow of deadly sprays shone brightly as they sprang forth, a swift rainbow of hope in this gloomy land.

She peered vainly into the again-hidden city, unable to make out anything. At least our battle will be also unseen by our enemies, she realised, and returned to her vigil.

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Darkwind
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Greg grumbled under his breath. "We stumble into a strange plane and the first thing we do is get into a fight. An unprovoked fight. At this rate we won't survive long." To help everyone survive longer, Greg cast a spell that made everyone a little faster, and a little harder to hit. With all the demons around, most of his attacks were useless, anyway.

His sword flashed as he stabbed at the demon, piercing its hide in several places, even landing a particularly nasty blow with one strike. That one's going to hurt... he thought without losing concentration. He knew better than to underestimate the massive monster--it's huge muscles would make it mover very quickly, and if it connected it would leave wounds that hurt even more than that.
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