Oblivious to the disintegrating alliance with the githmorein of Heartmaster, Lynien was sorting through Matrioshka's treasures, selecting the very best items and tucking them into her Bag. Meanwhile, Eloy was talking urgently and persuasively to the githmorein who had transported him, whose name was Okris, trying to convince him that it was all a misunderstanding.
Gorfang, however, was still deep in the battle-rage of his ancestors. A red mist covered his vision, black fiend blood was spattered across his calloused hands, and the flames of fury dominated his mind. When the githmorein who had accompanied Heartmaster stepped between himself and where the ithilid-kin had disappeared from view, he saw only a challenge. "Do not attack the Master again!" admonished the githwarrior, his blade levelled at the orc. Gorfang's only response was a savage attack. In two blows he had felled the near-human, and his assault carried him across the throne area to where the others stood. In seconds he had killed both the other githmorein. Panting with anger, his head turned and he looked to where he'd last seen Heartmaster, death in his eyes.
At that moment, the stone disc that had been Matrioshka's throne-plinth tipped as it descended unevenly into the dry pool beneath. Lynien's muscles shifted to retain her balance without her even noticing, but Eloy went sprawling. Gorfang braced his feet for balance, and as he did so, he felt a slight tug on his Bag of Holding where it hung at his waist. He looked around, and to his utter amazement saw the Sceptre of the Dragon Lords hurtling away from him towards the stairwell at the edge of the chamber. He made a frantic grab at it as it went, but missed it. In a moment it had reached the stairs, where the robed figure of Yadaran Heartmaster reached up, grabbed it out of the air, and spun to flee down the stairs.
 |
If Gorfang had been angry before, now he was incandescent. He sprinted towards the edge of the disc, and as he went past Lynien flicked her Ring of Jumping at him. He caught it and jammed it onto his hand.
With a short run-up he hurled himself across the gap between the sinking disc and the chamber floor, bellowing "Cast the anti-magic - we are leaving!" at Eloy as he went, and raced across to the stairwell before plunging down in pursuit of Heartmaster. At a rate of descent little distinguishable from that of falling down the stairs, he crashed down the flight and emerged into the lower level - the Hall of Agony - where he found absolute chaos, with all the monsters and people freed from their jars, some fighting each other, some fighting Heartmaster's githmorein warriors, and some fighting alongside them... but no sign of Yadaran Heartmaster.
This was too much. With an earsplitting scream of wrath, he hurled himself at the nearest monster and attacked it.
 |
Eloy lifted off with his Ring of Flying and soared over towards the stairwell. Gorfang had hurtled through the emerging monsters so fast that none had really registered him going by. Eloy, though, attracted more attention. There was only one creature type able to reach him, though, and a few seconds later he realized he was being approached by four creatures like one-eyed beach balls with ridiculously small wings. Although he didn't know it, they were monodrone modrons, not normally aggressive, but still compelled by the remnants of Matrioshka's enchantment.
The human pulled his bow off his back and nocked an arrow. Shooting while airborne took a bit of practice, but after two ranging shots he began to hit the flying spheres reliably, and brought two down before they reached him. He kept his bow in his left hand and ripped out his sword with his right as they closed, spinning crazliy around him on to try and bite him.
His first strike went into the eye of one, carving it open like a grapefruit. To his surprise, a mixture of blood, guts and mechanical parts tumbled out, leaving him in doubt as to whether this was a living being or a construct. Whatever they were, the last one gave him a painful bite before he managed to put it down, at which point he realized something was going on back at the throne-disc.
 |
Lynien, concentrating on what was to her the first priority - a decent profit - was still on the disc as it dropped. She'd had no trouble staying upright as it did so, but now it reached the bottom of the pool with a slow, grinding scrape. Bits of stone and a cloud of dust were thrown up as the disc scraped across the sides of the pool. Lynien paused and shaded her eyes from the airborne grit, and then stared. About ten feet away, in the cloud of dust, was a distortion, an area of difference.. as if there was something invisible, yet solid, in the cloud of dust. Something vaguely human-shaped...
Without a moment's thought, she hurled herself at it, drawing her weapons in mid-air and executing a spring attack to land next to the indistinct shape. Driving her poison-smeared rapier into it, she carrried on past out of reach, spun, and looked back.
To her surprise and puzzlement, behind her was standing Yadaran Heartmaster, clutching his neck where her rapier had come within an ace of cutting his throat. Dark pink blood dribbled over his clawed fingers as he coughed for air. Forgetting evasion, she turned back and pressed the attack, slashing and stabbing, pressing him back and keeping him from using any magic or psionics. Desperately he raised his mauve hands, pleading, "No! Stop, we're allies, you don't understand, we're on the same side!" Lynien took no notice.
 |
Gorfang was confronted by a wide variety of monsters as soon as he emerged from the stairwell. In close succession, he hacked his way through one of Matrioshka's githmorein, a giant scorpion, a well-endowed but unfortunate female minotaur, another githmorein, a huge worm and a nine-headed hydra. As the latter went down, Gorfang blinked in mild disbelief at the next opponent he faced. He'd encountered flesh golems - constructs made from assorted parts of human bodies - but here, some complete lunatic had created a golem from parts of penguins....
The monstrosity was nine feet tall but Gorfang wasn't daunted. He launched himself at the pengolem. The simple fact that it was dead meant that it was less susceptible to wounds, and it resisted him long enough to give him a nasty peck before he slashed it back into its' component parts. It went down with a groaning squawk.
At this point, he found himself temporarily in a clear area. free of monsters. Around him, unaware of events above, Heartmaster's githmorein were nodding greetings to him, glad of the addition of a powerful ally to their battle. For a moment, reason battled to pentrate the red mist of his rage, and the idea of not attacking allies drifted across his mind. But the anger won out, and Gorfang launched himself at the remaining githmorein of Bainlin's force.
Gorfang stormed across the Hall of Agony like a river in flood, and bodies littered his path before the survivors decided they'd had enough and teleported away. By this time, few of the monsters that looked worth Gorfang's time were left, and he returned to the stairs to rejoin his comrades.
 |
Eloy, looking down from his airborne position, saw the reappeared Heartmaster at once, and sheathed his sword before selecting another arrow. Lynien was dangerously close to the kin at whom he was aiming and there was a good chance he'd hit her instead, but Eloy felt that this was a risk he was willing to take. As he drew his bead, though, Heartmaster Levitated clear of the battle, trying to escape Lynien's deadly rapier which had already disabled both his arms.
At that moment, Gorfang appeared, covered in blood from head to foot, at the top of the stairs, and, seeing Heartmaster, gave a roar of triumph and charged.
 |
The unfortunate Kin was struck simultaneously by an arrow from above from Eloy and by a vicious upward stab by Lynien that sank into his groin. The magic slipped out of his grasp, and he dropped heavily to the ground, where she gleefully proceeded to stab him again. Gorfang joined her, and one terrible blow from his khopesh settled the matter. Yadaran Heartmaster was dead, but this was not enough to sate the anger, and the orc hacked and slashed and tore his corpse until it was nothing but bloody shreds of cloth and flesh. The battle-rage began to drain away, and the orc realized that nowhere on the remains was anyhing resembling the Sceptre of the Dragon Lords.
Snarling and muttering, he picked a few items that looked possibly magical out of the bloody mess, and opened his Bag of Holding to put them in. As he did so, his hand brushed something large and smooth-shaped... he looked down.
The Sceptre of the Dragon Lords was still there. Yadaran Heartmaster's magical and psionic specialty had been illusions....
 |
 |
 |