End Game
*believe it or not, there WAS some rolling involved*--Dujek watched in full crouch, still behind the upturned table, as the half-ogre gashed and bashed the wound-riddled, motionless, stone giant’s skull. Few could pull of ‘gash’ and ‘bash’ in one stroke, Dujek found himself pondering, but Vorodon was one of those few.
--Slowly, addled now beyond even the magicks of the vile wizard, Kadarin stirred, a shard of ice exiting his bloody chest and evaporating from existence. The young mage managed to raise his head and look around the dining hall, with bleary, pinkish eyes. Only Kadarin could know what thoughts now coursed through his normally benevolent and analytical mind.
--Talia sprinted across the room in meaningful, efficient strides, steel bird of irrevocable kisses, Loiha had once named Talia’s unique weapon of choice, leading the way. Slashing through the darkness, pooling and hovering in one corner of the chamber, the Bladedancer disappeared from view.
--Henge quickly ‘fixed’ his severely damaged cranium, the patterns appearing once more, like linear waves and quixotic blueprints. All was well with the druid, though a dull, aching pain hammered against his neck and temples. Spinning (quite gracefully for his age) onto his back, the beekeeper upturned his crooked staff and braced himself for a rampaging giant to run over him. None came. Quickly, Henge sprung up, spat out a few teeth and gazed upon a scene of “melting” icicles, dead and wounded companions, and a nebulae of darkness, not conforming to the “patterns” in one corner of the great chamber.
The druid, frozen in time for a moment, peered deeply into the dark, palpable recess, and gently began to hum. Somewhere within the umbral clot, Alzamus the Fair stared back, having momentarily caught sight of Henge despite the gray-black miasma. For the first time in the melee, Wizard and Beekeeper looked upon each other.
["
http://www.content.loudeye.com/scripts/hurl.exe?clipid=012764401010006900&cid=600109"]
--Suddenly, all went black for Alzamus, for slicing through the air, in a wild, but uncannily successful arc, was the steel bird of irrevocable kisses. Talia’s weapon had connected, as the bladedancer came swiftly into the ebon muck, cutting a horizontal line along the wizard’s eyes. To say that Alzamus’ eyeballs burst, would be an insult to Talia’s fan. Instead, the enchanter’s eyes were each sliced in half, like hard-boiled eggs against the pressure of a slashing razor. The bridge of his nose was wet with cartilage, and a delayed but gruesome groan escaped the wizard’s mouth.
The groan was followed by a terrible scream, the likes of which could not seem possible for a mortal man to emulate. Alzamus writhed just as suddenly, and clutched his sides, as if a great, invisible vice was breaking his ribs.
“
Fyrrrrffyrrrrrrrrrion!!!! Donov--” the wizard lamented, black blood, trickling down the soulless, empty cavities, where once were eyes.
--That was all the sound the silent stalker had needed. Distracted (severely!) by Talia’s blinding rampage, the wizard failed to see Aethelstan, the coffer corpse, Andur’s Revenant, lock his cold, talon-like fingers around the suddenly exposed throat of the mage. Aethelstan had entered the darkness as well, and spoke now, in a slow, steady, voice…the voice of thirty grave-sent monks…the voice of St. Senren. As he spoke, he squeezed, and slowly Alzamus began to feel his life force ebb away.
--Yet, Alzamus did not yet give up all hope. There were contingencies in place. Slowly, but steadily a strange, ebon form separated from the darkness, like an amoeba and proceeded to coalesce into a new shape. A huge, grotesque, fly-like creature, nay a chasme demon, the same chasme demon that had slain his father, decades ago, now advanced on Henge. No one else could see this terrifying monstrosity, for it existed only for the beekeeper, but exist it did, and slowly, ebon mandibles clacking without sound, it advanced, covering Henge in its depraved embrace.
<OOC> Phantasmal Killer, contingency spell, deal with it Moon </OOC>Alzamus stared through empty eye sockets, as Aethelstan’s bony appendages clutched and constricted the mage’s throat. The undead priest spoke on, his words like hushed hoarfrosts from the grave. Suddenly, Alzamus opened his mouth to breathe, but instead he chose to speak…or warble, in some ancient, misbegotten tongue. Somehow despite his utter blindness, and the fact that Aethelstan was close to permanently silencing the wizard, crushing his windpipe, Alzamus chanted on…or was it some hex, some deathbed curse?! It was almost as if the wizard’s jaw and mouth functioned on their own, ignoring the terrible pressure the coffer corpse was generating with his strangulation.
<OOC> like bloody Rasputin, he will not die! Contingencies</OOC>Halfway way through his painful, choked litany, Alzamus suddenly coughed, and spurt of viscous, quickly blackening blood shot forth from his mouth, splashing Aethelstan’s already fearsome visage in turn. For a moment, the wizard tilted his head up toward the ceiling, silent now, as if telepathically calling down some malevolent, ancient god into servitude, then, quite simply, his head slumped forward and down, clacking against the bones of Aethelstan’s Fingers of Justice, which had now managed to begin crunching the few remaining bones in the wizard’s less than scrawny neck.
--A third figure was responsible for the killing blow however. Unseen, Vee Keykold, the original Adventurer-Upon-Return, the rogue and scholar, with the occasional disposition of one of Nimz’ famed, emotionless assasins, had snuck up right behind the mage, scant seconds after Talia’s swift attack, and Aethelstan’s methodically cruel embrace, Keykold had succeeded with his own strike, the blade entering cleanly, and with sufficient force, to travel up through the nape of the wizard’s neck and bury itself deep into the soft, pink brain matter of the skull.
"
Lazanne--" the wizard managed to whisper, despite the incredible odds agianst it.
Alzamus was dead…but there were contingencies in place.
--Tirron was dead. Unbeknownst to all, the hysterical monk suffered a heart attack during his earlier verbal assault upon entering the dining chamber, Aethelstan, his avenging angel, in tow.
--Meanwhile, on opposites sides of the great hall, Moruz and Aerex stirred. The inspector’s madness had gone away, along with his recent memory, and the killing ice-shards that had rained from overhead only moments ago.
Moruz rose slowly and gingerly from behind the table.
“
Fiati!” he spoke.
