Chapter 2 Part 2: Hysh Continued

(For the preamble and premise, start here) 

The party, gathered at the doorway, is momentarily distracted by the promise of untold riches, but a snort quickly focus their attention to the middle of the room... and upward! There, atop a glittering prize, a blue minotaur glares down at them, preparing to charge. 

An enraged Ogroid Thaumaturge faces down the party

"Run," the Mistweaver murmurs, and she lobs mystic bolts at the oncoming monstrosity before turning to flee herself. She takes shelter behind Kyre, who turns just in time to catch a pummeling from the Ogroid. the beast shoves him back and down between the wizard and the witch. 

The Tenebrael Shard shimmers in the air like a mirage on a hot day and reappears behind the Ogroid, tearing huge chunks of flesh from its flank. Morgwaeth steps forward and contributes her own heavy blows from her glaive. The arcane creature staggers, but does not fall; howling in pain as well as rage it lowers its heavy brow and attempts to gore Kyre where he lay, but the confined quarters makes it difficult to land a blow. It does not get another chance. 

The Uglu assassin and the Hag Queen redouble their efforts, slashing and stabbing, sending the beast reeling into the blade of the Mistweaver. It drops suddenly at their feet. 

The Aelves look at one another, hardly able to believe that they have survived. They carefully regroup at the door to the treasure trove. 

Kyre is the first to brave the shifting dunes of gold, his sword leg threatening to bind and catch with every step. He stoops to gather a fistful of coin, and his face clouds in rage. "Fool's gold!" he sputters, and throws the coin against a wall. 

Suddenly, amidst the coiling mists something moved, a strange figure approaching through the shimmering glare. This was no monstrous foe stepping into the light, however, but another lost soul seeking freedom from this place. Morgwaeth and the Mistweaver turn to fight this new foe, but the hulking figure makes no move to draw his own weapons. "Help me leave this place," he growls, "and I will pay you handsomely." 

Morgwaeth's eyes narrow appraisingly. After a moment, she replies, "help us fight our way out of here, and no debt will be due." 

A wild Darkoath Chieftain Appears 

The party proceeds carefully across the treacherous, glittering piles, new companion in tow, until a new chamber coalesces out of the mists, preceded by a beast's musty stink.  Clawmarks marred the walls, and gold glinted amidst the bones on the floor. From dark corners and piles of refuse tiny corrupted figures appeared, with the faces of grots and the bodies of spiders. They rush the party and attack. 

The Scuttlings defend their lair 

Agile as they are, they are no match for the swift and vicious Aelves, and they tear through the creatures one after another... until blazing shafts of light glare fiercely down from the shattered roof, striking the floor with sizzling points of heat! The party are stunned, but quickly recover, and finish off the remaining hapless Scuttlings. 

Rooting through the bones, the Mistweaver finds a trove of real gold, and nestled in a broken ribcage, an gem in the shape of a heart, shimmering from ash black to fiery red. The Mistweaver gasps, and slips it into a pouch. "The Phoenix Heart," she murmurs to herself. "Now this may come in handy." 

Unable to find an egress from this abandoned nest, the party carefully picks their way across the treasure room to the fork they had passed through earlier, and choose the way not taken. 

They step through a shimmering blue haze and into a profane temple to Tzeentch, and behold a great statue of a daemon lord. At the statue's feet they see two great crystal prisms, each mounted upon an intricate clockwork dais. From these prisms spill a searing beam leaping out like a river of power to scorch the walls black. As they take in the awesome sight, Blue Horrors coalesce in the room in front of the statues, while a Pink Horror steps out of a swirling portal to the left of the adventurers. 

The party is greeted by Daemons in a profane temple

Kyre steps into the door, pivots right, and tears the Pink Horror in two with his murder hook. The Hag skewers one of the Blue Horrors between the prisms. The Horrors caper and launch rainbow-hued fire. 

They feel a horrible high-pitched hum in the air, and a malign darkness seeps into the corners of the room, shadows that portend a growing evil.

One by one, the adventurers enter the temple, killing all of the Blues and the Brimstones they spawn, save for one, that capers out into the hall and harasses the Mistweaver with Blue Fire, finally connecting with a surprisingly heavy blow. 

The Tenebrael Shard, leaving the remaining tiny daemons to his companions, moves to the rightmost prism and, with an effort, turns it so its beam falls upon the statue at the center of the temple. As the beam strikes the daemon statue, a terrible shriek of rage resounds from within, and great cracks begins to spread across its surface. Living flames leap out of the conflagration with a hiss and a sputter. Brimstone Horrors appear at the base of the statue and attack! 

Undaunted, the Shard leaps across from one statue to the other, casually slaying the Horrors that dared to stay in his path, and pulls its coruscating beam onto the statue to join that of the first. 

The beams reveal their quarry 

As the daemonic statue at last shatters apart, blue flames roar up from its sundered remains. Striding forth from amid those spectral fires is revealed the magister of Tzeentch. “You should not have come,” he hisses, “this affair is beyond you.” He favors the assembled heroes with an unsettling smirk, then raises his staff and darts to attack, the stolen amulet still gripped in his twisted fingers.

With a twisted incantation, the Magister vanishes. In his place stands the bewildered Darkoath Chieftain. Before anyone can react, the disciple of Tzeentch reveals himself in the place the Chieftain once stood, right amongst the party! His magical blade cuts a swathe through the warriors around him, then he switches back and cackles. 

Enraged by this eldritch trickery, the Barbarian charges and his War Axe sings, but the Magister seems unfazed, though the wounds cut deep. The Fleetmaster joins him, but his murder hook catches only air, but the Witch Aelf fares better, her glaive scoring a deep crimson line down the Magister's arm.  

Suddenly, one of the prismatic statues moves of its own accord. It catches the remaining pair of Brimstone horrors in its scourging light and incinerates them. 

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, the Shard steps into nothing and disappears, instantly reappearing by the Magister's side. with a soft chink a length of barbed chain uncoils and wraps around the evil wizard's neck before tightening and severing it clean off! 

The foul creature crumbles to the ground with an agonized shriek. His flesh blackens and withers as if he were being consumed by a raging flame. “My Master will not be stopped so easily, fools! Your world shall crumble!” his decapitated head shrieks from within the swirling conflagration. Within moments nothing of him remains but a gaping skull and twisted bones. Clutched in the charred remains of his finger bones is the amulet, and beside it a gleaming fragment of gemstone that fits perfectly into one of the eight sockets cleverly built into the device. As soon as they put it into place, the tower dissolves in a swirl of light, and they find yourself returned to Hammerhal. The morning dawn light is just breaking above the buildings.