2022-10-27 The Roots of Darkness - Wik

My eyes will narrow as Orianna appears, the small whetstone in my hand scraping against the short blade he holds in the other.

"There is a fair amount I need to tell you in order to give context to why I am asking for your help. If I repeat anything you already know, understand I do it not because I think you have forgotten, but for the benefit of a reminder and context for new information learned."

It's noisy down here, in the preparation rooms for the Daring Heights fighting pits. Noisy enough to drown out a conversation that should be kept quiet.

"Okay. So. Seven days ago, Lucky, Derthaad, Glint, and I spoke to one of the priests of the Temple of Tiamat, Tyraxes Wraithborn, along with an acolyte from the Temple of Bahamut, Theilius, about the horrific undead attacks they’ve been plagued with. Both sides have weathered incredible losses, and both have come to see that they either stand together against this common enemy or both will fall. The foe I speak of is… somewhat known. But there are still many key things we need to find out before we can even think about stopping them."

Each scrape of the whetstone punctuates Orianna's story as she tells it, the new information blending with the old.

"First, their name is Desathrax. They are a combination of the divine sparks of both Tiamat and Bahamut, and they have been consuming these sparks from the clerics, priests, paladin, acolytes of both temples. They have also been sending both followers false visions of their god’s, which have then compelled the followers to travel to the Sunset Spines on a ‘holy pilgrimage’ only to never return."

"Second, Desathrax is trying to ascend to godhood but has not gathered enough power yet. However, the sand is running ever faster through the hourglass. If we do not find where Desathrax’s lair is, we will be unable to find their weakness which will allow us to stop them."

"Which brings me to point three; I know the general area of the Sunset Spines Desathrax’s lair might be, but I cannot go alone. I would like your help in not only finding this place, but assessing the situation and, most importantly, finding the weakness that will allow us to put an end to this undead reign. If we try to fight them now we will be killed, consumed, or converted to serve this as-yet-to-be-god. If we do engage in a fight, it’s important you know the undead and Desathrax have resistances to fire, cold, lightning, radiant, and — I suspect — acid and poison. But I would not see us try to engage in a fight this time. We need to find information so we can come back here. Once we do that, then we can plan with the two draconic deity Temples."

"So… Will you help?"

I look up from my work, the wicked edge of the blade gleaming in the light. Orianna is... desperate?

I nod once, sharply. "I'll be there."

Orianna nods in response, and turns to leave.

"Ms. Èirigh. Grougaloragran's egg. Has it..."

She stiffens slightly, giving the slightest nod. The grip on her staff is tight, and in these small spaces, I can tell that she's apprehensive.

I exhale deeply, a blast of air through my flared nostrils, and I nod twice once more.

The edge of my lips starts to curl, though I try to keep it contained.

The golden scales there glint, casting small reflections about the ceiling.

•••

A Giant Eagle swoops down from the mountains of the Sunset Spines, twisting and turning into the form of Ilthuryn. "The Giant Eagles tell me that that the beasts in this area have begun to flee.

"They also tell me that there's some undead walking around. Humanoid, wearing metal armour and wicked black helmets."

I turn away from the others, from Archie and Lolli and Itzal. A snarl escapes my lips as I go back to rummaging through my pack in our small camp, deep within the Spines.

My hand reaches down to my waist, finding the smooth, worn leather of the hilt of my dagger. My fingers curl around it, my knuckles turning white under the strain of my grip.

"Cechec? Are you alright?" Orianna's voice calls to me.

"I'm fine." I relax my grip ever so slightly, keeping my back turned to the group.

Itzal's eye, the one not covered by the half mask they wear over their face, narrows. "You recall that this is a mission to scout, to retrieve information, and to return, right? Not to fight anything?"

I turn my head so that I can see Itzal and Orianna out of my right eye. "I'm a professional. I know the job I was hired to do."

"Good."

•••

The sound of flesh and leather and bone scraping against the stones that make up the path that we have chosen through the Spines catches our attention, and we duck in behind a stone to watch as one of Desathrax's pilgrims shambles in where we had walked mere minutes before.

The flesh on its arms is withered and blackened, and its left leg drags behind it with each step. From its wide open mouth, black fire pours out, engulfing the side of its face.

With each step, it moves further and further up the mountain, and once it is far enough away, we all begin to follow it. It shambles, slowly, and as it does we continue to follow it until it stops in the middle of a crossroad.

We duck behind another outcropping. The chanting, that same chanting from before of Infernal, Celestial, and Draconic, can be heard further up. Archie tries to comprehend it, but luckily he is able to sever the magic before it corrupts his mind too badly.

We wait. We wait to see what the undead does, as it assumes a crouch on one knee, bowing to the figures that make their way up from one of the other roads. Two armoured undead come around the corner. My fingers tighten on the daggers at my side, and I narrow my eyes.

Following in behind are three very different others. A gold dragonborn in standard travelling clothes, a bronze dragonborn, and a human who has green scales coming up from the side of their face. In their hands, each holds a brilliant glowing heart.

Their chests are torn open.

I tense my legs, rising at the sight of those undead paladins of Desathrax, but Orianna holds up her hand, to me and to Ilthuryn. I settle back down, and watch.

The undead paladins nod at the pilgrim, and as it rises, they all begin to make their way up the mountain.

•••

The mountain is covered in undead, each and every one of them shambling to the peak. The six of us, Orianna, Itzal, Archie, Lolli, Ilthuryn, and I, hunker down in a small cave as we begin to turn visible once more, thanks to Lolli's magic and a potion I thought to bring with me.

We discuss how we will continue to go up the mountain. We can't very well walk out there as we are - the undead would see us for who we are immediately.

Ilthuryn withdraws a few small berries from his bag, and holds them in his palm for everyone to see. He closes his palm over them, says a few words, and casts them to the floor of the cave. As they connect with the ground, they each flash as they are replaced with pixies, conjured to help us.

Ilthuryn asks them if they would polymorph us all into hawks, so that we may fly to the peak of the mountain.

They agree.

•••

As we fly near to the summit, we see more and more undead. More of Desathrax's chosen, with their wicked armour and weapons. More dragons, of all metals and colours. A young copper dragon, an adult brass dragon; each one with the black, vile undead flames spewing from their bodies.

At the peak there is a plateau. My eyes are sharp as a hawk, and I can see that in the centre of the plateau there is a large cave entrance. Stones have been piled into rough piles, and burning on top of them of their own accord are spots of black flame.

Something is emerging from the cave. Something we've never quite seen before.

A dragon. An ancient dragon. A red head appears, black flame spurting from its eye. Its left claw is clad in shimmering golden scales. The right claw is made of only black scales. The body is part silver, part bronze. Its legs are silver. Its tail is green.

It lies down in front of the cave entrance.

We fly high and dive bomb into the cave.

•••

The sickly voice drawls from the three mouths that have emerged from the black void, each speaking the same words with a low, evil growl. The cave at the root of this mountain, at the bottom of the deep, smooth shaft that we dove into, is immense. Hundreds upon hundreds of undead, each chanting the same awful mix of language, stand facing the black void that the would-be go emerges from.

It is split perfectly down the middle. To its left, it is an avatar of Bahamut: the purest platinum scales run down its side, shimmering in the awful dark radiance of this temple. To its right, it is an avatar of Tiamat: two additional heads, one white, and one blue, join the head in the middle of half red and half platinum.

Arms raised in praise is the undead warlock once more, the one Orianna has told us is called Steppenwolf.

Orianna stands up from where she hides with Ilthuryn and I, near enough to the undead hoard to cast a spell if it becomes necessary. "I told you once before, no. And I am telling you again. Never. My friends and I are not hear to become part of your thunder."

"The stars say so."

Desathrax chuckles, and as it does, the undead turn to face us. Steppenwolf rises up from the plinth, making to glide towards us across their heads.

"Orianna! Ilthuryn! Cechec! Come back through, and I'll block the door." His spell book is in his hand, and his fingers begin to glow as they move in arcane patterns.

The dragon begins to laugh maniacally. "You come into my home and want to knock in my door?"

In an instant, the others turn to run. Ilthuryn shifts into a Giant Eagle once more, grabbing Itzal on their way back up the shaft. Orianna waves her staff above her head, casting starlight into the space above our heads that quickly transforms into another pair of Giant Eagles that grab her and I, Archie and Lolli.

We quickly make our ascent, but it is unnecessary. The undead do not follow us.

The only thing that follows is the voice of Desathrax, its maniacal laughter chasing us as we make our flight.