The approach to the structure made the overwhelming size of the foreboding pillar apparent. The eerie green glow soon overpowered the light coming from Ellinaria’s illuminating eyes, and the priestess stopped suddenly as if she had accidentally walked into a wall. She turned back to the other two, her eyes back to their normal squint as she rubbed at each for a moment.
“I didn’t let go of the spell, something made it stop. That pillar must be a place of power. Only simple spells will work in there.” She said.
“There are simple spells?” Thæry and Ardam said in unison.
“Well, relatively simple. Ones that only require knowledge of how to weave the mana and concentrate. Anything that would need chanting or a magic circle would be overpowered by the concentrated mana woven into the structure. Places of power are the work of decades. Considering how long the legend of the gavel has been around, that pillar probably has centuries of magic in it.” Ellinaria looked at her two companions, realizing from their expressions that every word of this was going over their heads. She sighed and dumbed down the explanation. “I can only cast combat magic and healing magic in there.”
“Ah” The other two said in unison. As Ellinaria turned back down the staircase, Thæry and Ardam shared a shrug.
The three continued down into the base of the large bowl. As they approached, the whole pillar seemed to swirl with energy then the rumbling sound told them it wasn’t energy swirling, but the pillar itself. The entire column of stone turned until a gate faced them. The door was as large as a city’s gate, and decorated elaborately. Heroic figures climbed a pile of vanquished warriors towards a crystal. At the apex, a deific figure sat bearing witness to the climb of the heroes, scales in one of its hands, a judges gavel in the other.
“Subtle.” Ardam said sarcastically.
“Pretty hard to miss the meaning, yeah.” Ellinaria quipped.
“Like a picture book made by condescending assholes.” Thæry joined in.
As the three appraised the morbidly instructional piece of art, a new rumble began. The door split in the middle, opening outwards towards them. The smell of fresh blood hit their nostrils immediately. Thæry and Ardam pulled their weapons out at the ready, and lead the way in. A fight had taken place in this hallway. Knights of Lorn, several adventurers, and a priest of the order of Justice all lay still. Surrounding them was the bodies of their opponents in red robes. As the group surveyed the carnage, a cough came from down the hallway.
“Everybody is dead in here but me. Do be kind and come help me or finish me off. The waiting is literally killing me.” Came a distinguished sounding voice that was tinged with pain. Ardam and Thæry advanced slowly, checking every red robed body just to be sure. As they advanced, Ellinaria made quick checks on all those not wearing red robes, confirming that everyone was indeed no longer among the living.
They found the speaker propped up against the wall. It was a well built man, holding his side where he had been stabbed. He was wearing the gear one would expect from an adventurous wizard, but a well off one. A good quality cloak and gambeson, topped by a wide brimmed pointed hat that covered his face as they approached. With a few laborious pants, the man looked up, revealing himself to be a dark skinned elf. Violet eyes looked at them with obvious relief, his silver hair and beard glistening with sweat as he tried to keep his blood where it belonged.
“Oh good. You appear to be sane. Well, maybe not quite sane, you’re in this damned place after all. At least you’re not with these suicidal red robed fools.” He said with an effort at levity. Ellinaria bent down to look at his wounds, Thæry still held her hammer at the ready.
“What happened?” The adventurer asked, still on guard.
“We came in here as soon as we could. Big group, most of us dispatched by His majesty Lornic III, and some fellows from a clergy we didn’t recognize that offered us help. As you can see, we had a bit of a falling out.” He grunted out, still trying to sound jovial as Ellinaria took stock of his wound. The priestess pulled out a bottle from her pack, and a bandage.
“It’s not too bad. I can cast healing on it after I disinfect it. This will hurt.” She warned, getting to work without giving him much of a chance to hesitate. The elf grunted and tensed, but otherwise took the treatment without complaint. A faint glow showed the shepherd’s magic at work, and the wizard visibly relaxed.
“If I make it out of here in one piece, I’ll definitely have to make a donation to the order. Bless you miss.” He sighed as the tension released.
“Only way out is up, though.” Thæry said, keeping a lookout as Ellinaria brought the elf back to health. His bodily integrity restored, the wizard grabbed his staff and regained his feet. As he blew out another sigh of relief he addressed the adventurer.
“Right you are… miss… if I’m not mistaken, are you the Hammer of Barstan?” He said, adjusting his hat. “No, I doubt I’m mistaken. I can’t think of anyone else who’d be smiling like you are in a situation like this.”
“I am she. Disappointed, Golodec the Spell Burglar?” Thæry said with a knowing smile on her face as she revealed she wasn’t the only person of renown in the hall.
“Oh please do not call me that! I’m 243 years old and never once have I stolen another’s possessions.” The elf said indignantly.
“So if we’re not supposed to call you Golodec…” Ardam started.
“No no no. By all means you may call me Golodec, as that’s the name my parents gave me. I merely take issue with people claiming that I am a thief of magic. Let us leave it there or this introduction shall tarry on forever. I am Golodec Mahraan, may I have the pleasure of my saviors names?” The wizard asked.
“I’m Ellinaria Fondrin, journeyman priestess of the Shepherds.” Ellinaria said with good mannered cheer as she re-secured her pack.
“Ardam Thanedor, Militiamen.” Ardam joined.
“Thæry Broogan. Have you seen what’s beyond this point?” The adventurer asked, still all business. Golodec switched from nodding along at their names to shaking his head.
“I’m afraid not. Our group heard the sounds of fighting from ahead of us, that’s when these ‘clergymen’ stabbed us in the back. After the fracas, I didn’t hear anything from ahead. So either that group went on, or… well. As you said, though, the only way out is up. Whatever’s in that room, my magic is at your disposal.”
Thæry nodded and led the group down the hall. As the end of the passage appeared through the murk, Ardam and Thæry both made note of the familiar shimmer of a barrier.
“Hmm… A barrier?” Golodec mused.
“Just like the one around Lorn.” Ellinaria said.
“Probably works the same too.” Thæry posited. “Meaning there’s probably something some people want to run away from in there, and this is supposed to keep them in.”
Ardam’s tail flicked. Something about that seemed… off. There already wasn’t a way back down as far as he knew. Why would there be yet another barrier inside? His tail flicked again as his hair stood on end at the feeling of wrongness coming from the shimmering wall. Something was telling him that past this wall was more than just another peril, but a specific test. That same feeling told him that hesitation here would be a death sentence. When Thæry looked at him he nodded his readiness, and the two of them stepped through the shimmering wall of energy.
The room inside was circular, with a spiral stair carved into a pillar on the opposite side of the circle from the entrance. Where the halls and bowl had been murky and dark, this place was well lit with a soft light that seemed to shine from directly over head. A shimmering blocked off the entrance to the staircase. In the center of the circle, stood a ring of statues, all looking rather heroic, but also in poses of defeat or despair… That was all Ardam had time to realize about the room as his earlier unease became manifest in a shadow he barely noticed in time.
“Lookout!” He shouted, raising his sword and stepping forward into the blow. He intercepted it flawlessly, just as his father had taught him. If he hadn’t, his head would be rolling on the ground. The others all made ready to fight as Ardam took stock of what he was facing. It was emaciated, like a beggar dying of some illness or other. At the same time it was twice as wide at the shoulders as Ardam. It had no legs, merely an upper torso tapering to a dangling spine floating off the ground. The slate grey skin of the levitating creature made it look like a macabre statue. A smooth wooden mask, with indented lines that looked like a weeping face stared blankly at Ardam as the arms wheeled the greatsword it carried around.
The creature gave a wail that sounded like an out of tune woodwind and lunged at Ardam again. Before it could close to striking distance, Thæry came rushing in from the side. The brunette bashed into the greatsword with her shield, her full bodyweight behind it. The motion pushed the tip of the blade away from Ardam as he made a lunge of his own through the area Thæry had cleared. He thrust at the chest of the creature, and his blade bit into the flesh. It was like stabbing a bucket of pitch, and Ardam could instantly feel his sword being sucked into the creature.
“Oh shit!” Ardam swore as the creature didn’t seem to be dying from the wound. One arm holding the greatsword flexed. Emaciated muscle suddenly rippled through the sickly colored skin as the greatsword Thæry was holding at bay began to swing back inwards with such strength that it hoisted the adventurer off her feet. Ardam Reacted quickly, letting go of his stuck sword and catching her while twisting the two out of the blade’s path. They landed in a heap below the floating swordsman.
“Flare!” Came dual shouts from Golodec and Ellinaria. Two fireballs impacted the creature as Ardam and Thæry scrambled out from under their opponent. The fire seared the swordsman, patches of skin catching fire and where they burned through, the goopy innards of the creature smouldered with a red glow. The monster made absolutely no note of the damage and squared up with Ardam again. Weaponless, Ardam had no choice but to back away from the sweeping thrust. The creature lunged, and once again, Thæry intercepted the blade with her shield. The strike knocked her back, but instead of pressing the attack on the adventurer, the floating swordsman slid around her to make another attack at Ardam. Thæry took a swing with her mace, cracking ribs as the swordsman bypassed her. Once again the creature took no notice and bore down on Ardam.
“Did you insult this thing’s mother or something, Ardam?” Thæry said as Ardam began to run from the monster that seemed to only have eyes for him. Ardam ran for the circle of statues, thinking to use the tall pedestals of the stones to restrict the floating swordsman’s movement.
He was able to gain some ground with his sprint, and got inside the ring of statues. On the insides of the pedestals was text that Ardam couldn’t read, but more importantly there were weapons! A longsword stuck out of the base of one of the statues, and Ardam could swear he could feel the grip calling to his hands. He rushed over to it as a lightning bolt and another fireball hit the back of the floating swordsman that approached, oblivious to the damage. His hands found the grip and he braced himself for a mighty tug. The moment Ardam pulled he found himself face to face with a stranger looking at him with a sad expression.
“Another one?” The man sighed.
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