The Fall of the Dark One

Cautiously, they examined the chamber in which they found themselves. Although well hidden, they located a trap-door in the floor, leading down into the catacombs below the citadel. Into the central crypt, however, there was no visible access.

Hildraft tapped the stone gently, listening intently to the sound, and declared that the door was around 3' thick; about half what the walls were. Examining them, he realized that while the walls were dressed slabs of stone, the door looked as if it had flowed into its's current shape, and the Hand of Kord concluded that it had been magically conjured or shaped.

Each now looked to his weapons and defences, winding spells of protection around him against the battle to come. Then Hildraft worked a Stone Shape and removed the door panel, opening the crypt inside to their sight.

The interior of the Crypt of Artila was a cubic space of dark stone, illuminated only by the glow of a smaller cube, five feet across, standing roughly where they'd seen the magic jar in the scrying vision. Shelves lined two walls, floor to ceiling, stuffed with treasure, spellbooks, and weapons. Resting atop the cubewas a slender, slightly curved Dao - a Shadowkami sword - and in front of it, tightening the buckles on the arm-guard of a suit of Sasutoran armour, a lone figure.

The host body which his acolytes had provided for his restoration was not the same as the one in which they'd last seen him; the features were significantly different. But already the decay had begun, and the resemblance to the original Artila was growing stronger. He reached for the sword as the door dissolved, and lifted it as Surya and Hildraft entered the crypt.

Levelling it at Hildraft, he grated out one word; "Aid!" The dwarf felt a wash of compulsion flow over him and past, deflected by the power of his holy magic. Unpeturbed, Surya bounded into the crypt, shield high, and unleashed a fearsome series of attacks on their opponent, the dread sword Tormentor tearing through the smooth armour and rending his undead flesh.

As he did so, he noted two of the shadow-stuff giants coalesce into being to either side of the door behind him. With a gutteral snarl, Duzmakhmol the orcish Acolyte of Kord sprang to attack one, the twin axes Glimstad and Brendel flashing blue fire in the darkness. To his left, Hildraft unleashed a Searing Light, burning a hole in the undead Kin's side.

With no sound, the shade giants attacked, and their ghostly polearms struck across Duzmakhmol's helmet. There was no impact or stop in their passage, but a ghastly wound opened as if he'd been slashed by a metal edge and down he went.

Outside, Sack hauled the trapdoor open, ready in case an escape was required. He paused, looking down the shaft to the inviting lamp-lit passage below. Then he turned and charged into the crypt to join the fray.

Hildraft stepped over his fallen follower, and cast a Heal spell, saving his life as it drained away through the mortal wound. Surya and Sack leaped, cut, parried and thrust as they fought with Artila, who tried a different tack and attempted to Stun Hildraft instead of dominating him. This failed as well.

As they fought, they saw the wounds they'd dealt the Lich-Kin start to close, and as they did, the temperature began to drop perceptibly in the crypt. Duzmakhmol staggered to his feet, re-engaging the giant shades as Hildraft moved on to try and flank their opponent.

Sack now released the power of the Sunburst, causing the Blade of the Sun to blast dazzling light into every cranny of the crypt. Artila winced but continued to fight, his aim spoiled by the flare to the point that he made no hits, but one of the two shades was staggered, and became easy prey for the triumphant orc Duzmakhmol.

Surya muttered something to Tormentor, and struck again. This time, the edges of the wounds he drew across the dead flesh of the enemy were black, and for the first time, a lich was heard to scream with pain. Pain he should not have been able to feel; liches had no metabolism, no nervous system. Surya grinned from the shadows of his helmet.

Staggering backwards, clearly shocked by whatever the King of New Tellare had done, the Lich-Kin's guard went down and Sack saw his chance. The blessed sword stabbed out, tearing through Artila's armour and striking him down.

Gasping, the companions looked at each other warily. Each had his sources of knowledge about the undead, and all knew what might happen. Dislodged from his host body, Artila had two chances now; return to his jar (where he would be at their mercy), or attempt to possess one of his opponents. Hildraft was safe; Kord's hand was over his soul, defending it from violation, but the idea of Sack or Surya possessed by Artila was terrifying. Everything hung in the balance for an instant.

Then Hildraft cast Soul Bind.

His raised hand held a fragment of Sancrist crystal, a piece of the Kingmaker. Its' clear shimmer suddenly flared, then turned midnight black, and the priest put it down hurriedly as Artila's foul spirit was siezed and bound within the gem by the magic of the spell.

Everyone relaxed. Unless the crystal was destroyed, or Hildraft released the spell, Artila was trapped inside forever, which gave them some time to think.

The first priority was Artila's Jar. Hildraft used a Greater Dispelling to bring down the Forcecage spell sealing the jar away, revealing a small cut cylinder of Sancrist crystal, glowing a baleful red on the floor. The consequences of destroying this were potentially severe, and so the group took some time to shift all the treasure out of the crypt into the larger outer chamber before taking any action.

Then Hildraft handed Grispere's Hammer to Duzmakhmol. "Destroy it", he directed. The Orc, greatly honoured at being entrusted with this task, took careful aim and brought the Dweomerbane squarely down on the jar, which shattered into a thousand pieces, its' glow dissipating as it did so.

There now remained only the matter of the crystal Artila was Soul-bound into. It would be unsafe to keep; were it to be broken, the lich's spirit could escape and possess the nearest unlucky person, using his body to make a new magic jar, and the whole cycle would start again. Similarly, breaking it here might result in one of the party possessed - not a nice thought. Hildraft wold have to break it, as he alone was safe, and preferably somewhere where he could be alone.

All this talk of Sancrist crystals sparked a memory, and the suggestion was made to do the deed within the circle of Maraka, in the Underdark realm of Jerrata. The radiations of Good from the crystal there would surely be beneficial, and it was uninhabited, which would prevent Artila from escaping.

To do this would require Teleport to be available, and that meant tomorrow. Barricading the trapdoor, the group settled in and slept for the night.

Tokahimo, Sasutora, 10th October 1607

The next morning, Sack loaded Hildraft and Duzmakhmolinto the Bag of Holding, leaving Surya tallying the haul from Artila's crypt and Identifying the magic items. He donned his Helm of Teleportation, and hurtled deep under the earth's surface, to the forsaken land of Jerrata.

Jerrata, Underdark, 10th October 1607

On arriving in the Underdark, Sack unpacked his two priestly companions from the Bag and they carefully scouted the environs of the ancient stone circle.

Nothing was moving, and Sack, now shielded with the same protection magic as the others, retreated to a healthy distance as the Hand of Kord and his acolyte advanced into the circle.

Hildraft had been here before; but Duzmakhmol had never experienced anything like it. The warm benison of the weal radiated from the mighty crystal at the heart of the monolith washed over him, and his rugged orcish face relaxed into an expression of unwonted peace. Hildraft watched, understanding; he himself had been profoundly affected and altered by his first encounter, years before. Finally, the pair moved to find a suitable place to strike the last blow of the Sasutoran War.

Hildraft unwove his Soul Bind, releasing the spirit of the undead half-dragon. Smoky and ghostly, the shape rose above them, unmistakably Artila, but distorted and transparent. Coiling in apparent agony, it twisted left and right, seeking release from the pain driven into it by the environment of the Goodly Realm, and desperately questing for a host body to provide refuge. Finding neither, it faded, writhed, and was gone.

The Dark One was no more.