The Battle of Vlan Gera

And so the unlikely allies gathered for the attack on the Shadowkami.

Hildraft took the time out to properly invest his acolyte with a prayer-axe - the symbol of Kord - on a thong to wear around his neck, and with the two axes Glimstad and Brendel. As he presented these to Duzmakhmol, he felt immense forces move into place with an almost audible click. Fate and Destiny crowded around this moment, a true turning point; as with the creation of the Kordasa, the effects of this moment would reverberate for ever.

His red eyes glowing with fervor, the orc acolyte took the holy weapons with reverence, and the blue fire Hildraft knew so well from the Axe of Glass burst forth in all its' splendour.

Sack rummaged in his Bag of Holding, and came up with an enchanted chain shirt, which he loaned to Duzmakhmol until such time as suitable armour could be found.

This done, the group split up; Sack returned to the mountains, placing himself on a nice crag a mile away from the Dark One's camp, clearly able to see the place, and settled down to wait. Hildraft, Surya, and Duzmakhmolshifted to the Astral Plane, to meet the Githyanki of Kazoth gi'Baskhun.

Plain of Vlan Gera, Sasutora, 7^th October 1607

Sack spent some considerable time watching the camp, trying to get a good view of the tent of its' commander. In this he was only partially successful; the shade around the inner compound was so deep he could make out no details. This was a drawback; although he could Teleport, he would be jumping blind, and the chance of error was pretty high. That sort of thing didn't often stop Sack, however, and he readied himself before lifting the crystal given him by Vlaakith and thinking "ready!" at it.

Khemla Sidira, Astral Plane, 7th October 1607

The arrival of the signal triggered the assault, and all around the city in the silver void, Gates began to shimmer open, and dragons to tumble through. First through were Morodric and Ruthric, both Invisible courtesy of Surya's growing magical powers, with Kazoth, Duzmakhmol, Surya, Hildraft and ten Orcs mounted between them.

Plain of Vlan Gera, Sasutora, 7^th October 1607

Swoopling into the clear air of the Prime Material, the two reptiles let fly with their terrible breath, and twin swathes of flame tore across the camp of the Shadowkami. Their paths diverged slightly, in order to avoid hitting each other, but each was able to rain blazing destruction onto the command compound and its' central tent. Roiling smoke and dark flames hid it from view, as the two dragons rocketed across the camp, trailing fire and death across the packed encampment as they went, before backwinging to a halt and dropping to the ground.

High above, Sack saw the Gate as soon as it opened, and, gritting his teeth, triggered his Helm and Teleported. His target was completely obscured however, and the magic failed to fill in the gap between his fragments of vision of it and his idea of where he now was. Snap!

Morodric and Ruthric returned to visibility, and shapeshifted to humanoid form. Surya andKazoth approached the tent from the north-east; Hildraft, Duzmakhmol, and the ten orcs from the north-west. Swords drawn, they hacked their way unopposed through the stumbling, blackened survivors they found within the flamed areas.

Sack found himself standing on a narrow ledge, high in snow-covered mountains, in a howling blizzard. Snow began to settle on his invisible shoulders, outlining his location. In the distance, he could see huge stone doors standing open, and dwarvish figures moving. He tried again. Snap!

Hildraft and Surya converged as they reached the edge of where the tent had once been, the orcs falling back to wield the Daylight rods they'd been given to reduce the shadows in the camp. All the fabric was either gone or burning; all the internal contents were either melted or burning; bodies dotted the floor. A shadowy figure could be seen moving in the inferno.

Sack felt intense light and heat; better. No.... he was standing in a desert. A few yards away, a camel gazed in mild surprise at the snow-covered outline of a half-orc. Sack was worried now. This was his last chance. He concentrated really hard on the memories of what he'd seen. Snap!

He was standing precisely where he'd planned; on the western edge of the command tent, looking inwards. The sole survivor's figure was visible to him as well, as it slid a helmet over its' and onto its' armoured shoulders.

Tall, nearly as tall as Surya, it was encased in black plate armour, and had a heavy shield strapped to its' back. A long, curved sword rode its' shoulder in a backscabbard, and it began to draw this as Sack advanced, catching sight of his comrades as he did so. He adjusted his track to take himself behind their foe.

The smoke began to thin as the available fuel began to be exhausted, and the Dark One came into view. His face was distinctive; clearly once handsome, it was marked by the clear signs of death, gaunt and sunken with bone showing here and there. The eyes were gone, replaced by dim red points deep in the sockets. The most horrifying feature of the face, however, was familiarity. They had met - and fought - this creature before.

In Lantalaure, he'd contested with them for the sword Mergil, and dogged their trail through the haunted ruins.

On the plains before Gloiran, he'd led an army of Dragonfolk against the dwarves, and been killed by the Wyrmslayers. Kobort's sword - the Dyvka - so similar to the one he now carried - had come from his equipment. Sack had kept his head as a trophy, and puzzled when it vanished days later. The puzzle was now solved, by the enchantments of the Lich.

This was Artila of the Kin.

There was no need for any words. Both sides were surprised at sight of the other, although expression was hard to read in Artila's dead eyes. He raised his curved blade slowly, bracing himself as Surya, Hildraft, Kazoth and Duzmakhmol charged at him. The first attack, however, came from behind.

Unleashing the Sunburst, Sack hurled himself onto the undead Lord of the Shadowkami. The Blade of the Sun and Klaustomeihet slashed and tore as he struck, cleaving undead flesh like butter. Artila took an involuntary step forwards, directly into Surya's path, where more wounds waited, closely followed by the burning pain of strikes from the blessed Axe of Glass wielded by the Hand of Kord.

Recovering his balance, Artila did something rather unexpected. He didn't strike with his sword or attempt to cast a spell (the latter not advisable under such a hail of blows) but inhaled.

Given that Artila's last use for breathing would have been over six years ago, this was puzzling. Then they remembered; Kin had a breath weapon, an heirloom of their Father's blood. They were well warded against fire, and not worried. Until Artila breathed out.

A pearlescent mist fanned out from him, enveloping all of them in its' clammy, necrotic toils. Surya hurled himself clear before it could affect him, but Hildraft was caught in the face, Kazoth across the chest and Duzmakhmol in the leg. The mist wrapped itself around the affected extremities, tightening and constricting until the body part became immobilized and useless. Duzmakhmol was only unbalanced as his leg became immoble; he steadied himself on the other and smote back, wounding the Lich. Hildraft found himself blinded and unable to breathe, and Kazoth too found he couldn't fill his lungs against the terrible pressure.

A moment later, Artila was in amongst them, the katana slashing between Hildraft and Surya. The dwarf, unable to see what was coming, was struck in the head, and the blood flowed freely. Surya ducked under the blows, and he and Sack rained more attacks on the black-armoured warlord. The strikes they'd dealt before seemed to be healing themselves, but the rate of damage far exceeded the rate of healing, and the next moment, Artila Lich-Kin was sprawled at their feet for the second time as Sack faded back into view.

As Hildraft cast Remove Curse spells to restore himself, Kazoth and Duzmakhmol, Sack and Surya's eyes met across the body. Both were thinking the same thing; no matter how many times you killed a Lich's physical body, the spirit would regenerate from its' Jar if that were intact. Artila would be back again....

Meanwhile, outside, all hell had been unleashed. Two hundred and ninety-eight red dragons of significant size soared and banked across the encampment, blasting gouts of fire down into the troops below. Their Gityanki riders drove psi-guided arrows down through the smoke to pinion the Shadow Elves, while a solid wedge of Kazoth's finest infantry spun and danced as they fought the more organized defenders, their psychoactive Silver Swords flashing in the barrage of Daylight spells being hurled across the conflict by Hoshkh's orcs. The combination of these and the wildly flickering shadows created by the omnipresent fires was playing havoc with the Shadowkami powers. The battle was not one-sided, though. Despite being utterly surprised and thrown into turmoil by the holocaust of the aerial bombardment, many of the Shadow officers had gathered groups of their soldiers together and were mounting a resistance.

Spellcasters among the defenders had fastened on Cone of Cold and Lightning Bolt spells as effective against dragons, and many of the attacking beasts came spiraling downwards, trailing smoke, to smash into the ground with terrible consequences. Storms of arrows hurtled upwards, mostly shattering on or glancing off iron-hard dragonscales, but occasionally a Githyanki dragonrider would clutch his throat and pitch off his mount to where the long fall waited. Although greatly hampered by the interference with the light, the Shadowkami were using their shadowlore; flights of arrows would appear from nowhere to sweep the riders from a dragon's back, and several dragons, unable to turn, flew headlong into banks of shadow that appeared suddenly in front of them, and vanished utterly.

As the Wyrmslayers watched, however, the scene brightened perceptibly, and the powers of shade seemed to drain away. Some could still be seen shadowstepping, but more were seen to step towards a shady spot and stumble past, clearly nonplussed. The dragonswallowing banks stopped appearing, and missiles did not appear from ambush.

The battle turned.

Soon, hovering dragons banked and orbited the smoking ruins, overseeing the surrender of the thousands of soldiers who lived. Few officers were taken. Once the battle was lost, most of the nobles turned their own swords on themselves, electing death over the ignominy of surrender. Half a dozen survived, most so wounded or brainburned they could neither suicide nor be interrogated; only two worthy of note were brought to the commanders. These were Meiho Yamikuma and Kaisigi Mehitaka.

Sack, and Surya (using Tongues), approached these, and Surya gave them a bow he judged suitable from his conversations with his earlier prisoner, Tohi Mitsutoru. Their eyes widened rather, at this unexpected sophistication from a barbarian. Negotiations began.

Surya and Sack tried to explain to the nobles that their Emperor, as an undead of this type, would be back again and again; but would only lead them to ruin in the end. Where were their true Imperial family? Dead - all of them, and their families, and their retainers, and their livestock... Liches had weaknesses, though, as had been demonstrated. With the Wyrmslayers t show them how, the Shadowkami people could arise, resist, expel this unnatural usurper, and reclaim their own.

It was clear that all this was lost on Yamikuma; his responses were locked in thousands of years of feudal loyalty and obedience. "Why did you invade?" they asked him. "Land. Riches. Power." he answered, "What else is there?" If this was the norm, they were in trouble.

Mehitaka, however, had understood better, and his expression was lit with traces of hope. Yamikuma turned on him, clearly about to pull rank and cow him back into line. Sack drew his sword and beheaded him without a moment's hesitation.

He then bade the last noble kneel, which he did, not without trepidation. Dubbing him with his sword in the western fashion, he proclaimed him Emperor, subject to the lords of Alair (in the heat of the moment it passed him by that he was by extension proclaiming the three of them overlords of the whole of Western Alair).

Hildraft meanwhile passed among the Githyanki, healing those wounded dragons who were yet alive, and earning great approval from the harsh, alien warriors who rode them. Three of Kazoth's orcs were dead; the others bore their scars proudly.

The army was disarmed, and sent to walk home. Their supplies destroyed, nothing to hunt or forage between them and Sasutora proper, they faced a bleak future. Their weapons and armour were stacked in a great heap which the dragons then melted into an amorphous heap of metallic slag.

Then the Githyanki took their leave. Kazoth bade the Wyrmslayers farewell, and his surviving men, blooded in no uncertain fashion, lifted off and blinked out, shifting back to the Astral Plane.

Surya, Sack, Hildraft and Duzmakhmol turned their gaze eastwards....