Umber

Demogorgon arrives to take command. (sab)

The afterimage of the Balors’ detonation stains your vision, but after a moment, you realize that what you are seeing is actually flashes of power from the battle that continues to rage outside the Bastion. Through the crystal, you can tell that there are many small skirmishes in progress, but that the Ta’nari are largely on the defensive.

A large rippling bluish-black distortion in the center of the battle alerts you to the fact that something strange is happening. Nurn reaches forth a hand, palm extended, and a small sphere forms above it. Within the sphere is a formation of battered dwarves, Purcell, covered in gore and obviously injured, at the center. She turns to view the distortion, giving you a view into it as well. From the rift pours a horde of Lemure commanded by Glabrezu and Nalfeshnee. But the sight that slows even the stalwart Defenders is the appearance of a towering two-headed demonic form, cloaked in black flames. Silently, he points to the Bastion, and his army begins to progress, en masse, the Dwarves falling back before them.

Two Dwarves, one with a staff in hand, the other, apparently unarmed, stand still. Purcell calls to them, but they remain and he advances to join them. The Dwarf wielding the staff tries to shoo him away, but stubbornly he ignores him. “At least be silent, and ye may yet live.”, he says, as the demonic forces encircle them. Purcell responds, “As you wish, O Hammer of Moradin, though if you are destroyed it will be a great loss.” Pointing at the second dwarf, he says, “but who is this…” The cleric raises his hand quickly in a gesture of warning. There is something odd in the other’s dwarf’s face, something… familiar.

It is too late for explanation. With a horrible sound, the two-headed demon, now upon them, speaks. “Your show of defiance is… amusing.” says the left head. “Have you any words to speak before you are destroyed?” says the right. “We do,” says the unarmed dwarf. “We wish to surrender.”

The demon laughs. “And so you shall, though in truth your wishes have little to do with it. But why should I let you live?” The dwarf steps forwards, holding out a bejeweled necklace. “Because we offer this. Surely you can see that it is no ordinary trinket.”

“That is no offer. I do not bargain. I take.”, says the demon, and with a casual gesture rips the necklace out of the dwarf’s hand. Examining it he says, “But you are right… it is no ordinary bauble. It is quite powerful…” Then his eyes grow wide. “FOOL! Am I a child to be taken in with such trickery?” thunders the left head. A crafty expression crosses the right head’s face. “No, he is correct. It is powerful, and so we shall make it a gift to him.”

The demon, reaching forwards, places the necklace about the neck of the dwarf, who bows his head but does not resist. As soon as the pendant drops, the necklace begins to shrink, ever smaller, about the dwarf’s neck. Finally his self-control slips, and he clutches at the chain, but there is no stopping it. Eyes bulging, tongue extended, he drops to the ground, dead. The army cheers. “Witness what happens to those who try to betray the great Demogorgon!” shouts the demon.

He smiles and reaches for the necklace. “Now for the cleric.” At this, Purcell can contain himself no longer and leaps forward, weapons flying, but with a massive backhanded blow, the demon swats him unconscious. He grabs the necklace in one hand and body of the dead dwarf in the other and pulls, hard enough to crack ribs, hard enough to tear flesh. But pendant parts from necklace before head parts from body — and begins to glow.

“Wha…?” begins the demon, as the pendant flares with a brilliant, blinding light. When you recover, Demogorgon is gone, his final screams ringing in your ears. The demonic minions begin wailing. “Banished to whence he came! As for the rest of you, BEGONE!” and he strikes his staff against the no-ground upon which he stands. Dozens of Lemure and several of the Glabrezu are pushed through the fabric of the multiverse itself, and fade. The remainder look to the Defenders rushing back in and flee for their lives, demoralized at the loss of their captain.

The dead dwarf stands up, rubs his neck, and probes gently at his chest. “I expected a little trouble breathing again, but what happened to my ribs?”, he says. The cleric speaks. “Your power grows, the trip becomes easier, does it not?” The other figure grimaces, “Yes, with your help. And let me say ‘easier’ is a long way from ‘easy’.” He turns to Nurn’s scry sensor. “I assume this is who I think it is. We’ll clean up out here. Destroy the Dragon so we can all go home.”

One step, and he is gone…