Session 67
The Puzzle Room
- The room is a large room with complex parts.
You enter a grand, circular chamber of polished obsidian. At the center, a large, circular dais stands raised a few feet from the floor. Placed evenly around its perimeter are nine stone pedestals. Four of the pedestals are empty, while the other five each hold a small, intricate statue. On the outer edge of the room, facing the central dais, stand four massive, imposing statues. These larger statues depict a different celestial being, each one representing a core virtue: A winged figure holding a sword, representing Courage., A serene figure with a blindfold, holding scales, representing Justice., A figure with a shield emblazoned with a heart, representing Compassion., A robed figure holding a key, representing Wisdom., Each of the four large statues has a circular indentation in its hands, perfectly sized to hold a smaller statue. The five smaller statues currently on the pedestals depict creatures that are the antithesis of the large statues' virtues: A crouching, snarling gargoyle., A serpent devouring a coin., A skeletal lich clutching a spellbook., A shadowy fiend with a barbed whip., A small, terrified imp with its hands over its eyes.
- The party deduces that the statues have something to do with each other and begin to move them.
- As the party moves the statues toward each other, demons start to crawl from the walls and trap doors of the room.
- Black smoke starts to fill the room. The more statues that are moved, the party fights for their lives and solves the puzzle.
- With scapes and brushes, the party steps onto the center dais.
Before the Battle.
- The dais lowers,
As the dais lowers, it doesn't just descend—it plunges into the earth, a swift, vertical drop that steals your breath. The air grows hot and thick, filled with the stench of sulfur and burning flesh. The deeper you go, the more the dissonant chorus of the ritual becomes clear. No longer a distant hum, it's a cacophony of agonizing screams and guttural chants, a maddening symphony that grinds on your nerves and makes the very air vibrate. The elevator grinds to a halt, opening to a hallway bathed in a pulsating, sickly red light. The air here is so thick with heat and the smell of brimstone that it burns your lungs with every breath. The grotesque sound of the ritual is now a deafening roar, shaking the ground beneath your feet. At the end of the hallway, a massive, imposing door looms. It is not made of wood or stone, but of a single, colossal slab of pure obsidian. Etched deeply into its surface are a thousand screaming faces, their mouths agape in silent torment. At its center, a single, glowing eye of pulsing crimson acts as a latch, pulsing in sync with the ritual's beat, as if watching you, daring you to approach.
- The party rests before entering the door, and they reunite with Zor, waiting for the party to push forward.
- After getting a short rest, the party chats with an eye on the door. The eye, in a high-pitched voice, tells the party that they cannot enter.
- With some time passing and no luck getting the talking latch to open, someone swiftly punches it opening the door to the final chamber.
The Battle
You burst through the monstrous obsidian door, the sound of the ritual now a deafening, tangible force. Before you, a scene of terrible power and profound desecration unfolds. The final chamber is a vast temple, its floor a smooth, hellish landscape of polished obsidian. Multiple columns of pure lava vault downward from hidden channels in the high ceiling, arcing into two parallel streams of glowing magma that flow along the floor to your left and right. The air is an oppressive, humid blanket, reeking of sulfur and the sharp tang of superheated stone. The light in the room comes not from torches, but from the fiery orange glow of the lava and the pulsating, sickly red light of the ritual circle. In the very center of the chamber lies the heart of the ritual. A massive, ten-foot-diameter circle is carved into the obsidian floor, glowing with that same vile red light. At its core, the Aasimar's mother lies unconscious and still. Her body is a focal point of agonizing, conflicting energy. A brilliant, pure white light pulses faintly from within her, fighting against the thick, red tendrils of energy that wrap around her and feed into the ritual circle.
- A ritual is being placed upon Lazarus's Mother, a frightening sight.
Standing before the ritual circle, his back to you, is Kush. The ritual has transformed him into a horrifying abomination. He now has a towering, muscular frame, his skin a grotesque patchwork of thick, overlapping scales and the dark, coarse fur of a beast. A long, barbed tail writhes restlessly on the ground, and two massive, leathery wings are furled behind him. As he turns, his face is a terrifying mask with glowing, crimson eyes set into a scaly, reptilian visage. A mane of black, wiry hair cascades down his back, a twisted reminder of the Kishi Demon he once was. He holds a hand out toward the Aasimar's mother, absorbing the power of the ritual as it culminates. Looking up, you see the climax of the entire ritual. Piercing through the vaulted ceiling is the blinding white beam you saw from the city above, but it's no longer just a beam. It's a rapidly expanding rift, a crack in the very fabric of reality. Through the shimmering tear, you can see a glimpse of a different plane, the towering, impossibly beautiful spires of Mount Celestia. The beam, fueled by your mother's essence, is tearing open a path, a bridge between hell and heaven. And through the expanding rift, you can see it. In the skies around, an impossible number of devils and demons—from horned lemures to hulking pit fiends—are poised, their eyes fixed on the rift, waiting for the final, bloody call to ascend into the heavens.
- Not much is said between the party and Kush, but the faces on both parties say infinite words; they both leap into battle.
- With Kush and 5 Flinds at his side, they are a formidable foe. The party and Zor clash with the demons, trying to win on the scales of good. At some point in the fight, Lazarus and Kush come face to face.
Without warning, Kush's wings flare wide. With a powerful, effortless leap, he vaults through the air, closing the distance between you and him in a single, blurring motion. He moves like a predator of pure grace and malice. His armored fist connects with your chest with a forceful shove that sends you hurtling back toward the ground. As you fall, his voice rings in your ear. "So far to fall, little angel. I'll be sure to send your precious wings to your father. He'll want a memento of his folly."
- Lazarus Plummets, and all seems lost.
Kush's attack sends you flying, a brutal launch. You hurtle backward, the searing pain from your body a fiery trail behind you. With a bone-jarring slam, your head strikes the unforgiving obsidian wall. The impact steals the air from your lungs, and for a dizzying second, all you see are swirling stars and the pulsating red light of the ritual. Ignoring the fresh agony that radiates through your body, your eyes lock onto the Holy Book. It's so close, a beacon of corrupted power, and the only thing that matters right now. You push yourself up from the floor, a low groan escaping your lips, and begin to crawl. Every movement is a struggle, the jagged shards of obsidian on the floor tearing at your knees and hands, the vile sounds of the ritual a deafening mockery in your ears.
- Lazarus approaches the book, and something peculiar happens.
You pull yourself closer, a desperate, final effort, until your outstretched hand is hovering over the book. The book glows with a corrupting, sickly red light, and you can feel its vile influence reaching out to you. But just as your hand closes on the book's cover, the power of the ritual swirls around you and through you like a hurricane, nearly killing you as it courses through your veins. The holy light that has been seeping from the cracks in your body starts to change. A profound, spiritual transformation. From the open wound on your head, a new light begins to shine, a brilliant, pure white light that fractures through your skin. It's like watching stone fracture from the inside out, the light creating such immense pressure it's as if it's pushing through your very skin. You watch in horror and awe as the light creates new cracks across your entire body, branching out from the initial wound. Then, just as the pain becomes unbearable, a profound, almost overwhelming sensation washes over the entire party—the same feeling they had when Darpon first appeared. But this time, it's different. It's not the cold, malicious glare of a demon; it's an intense, focused gaze, as if they are being closely studied by a being of immense, ancient power. It’s the piercing, unblinking scrutiny of a nocturnal hunter, the kind of focus that leaves no shadow unexplored (An Owl). The air around them becomes charged with a palpable, inquisitive energy. As the presence washes over you, the white light that is fracturing your skin begins to slowly shift, bleeding into a vibrant, ethereal purple. Simultaneously, from the expanding rift above you, a shimmering, spectral form begins to coalesce. It takes the shape of a majestic owl, made of pure light and starlight, with wings that beat silently in the hellish air. The owl swoops down toward you, passing right through your body, infusing you with a surge of power. As it passes through, your wings, which were a dull, off-white, begin to change before your very eyes. The off-white feathers begin to take on a new pattern, transforming into a beautiful design of cream-white with intricate blond and golden markings, just like a great horned owl.
- Lazarus achieves a new form, and the group continues to fight, with blow after blow, time runs closer to the rift expanding, enabling the invasion of the hells.
- The party picks off the flinds, then focuses on the immensely powerful Kush.
- Kush does not go down easily and explodes fireballs at his feet to deal damage to the party.
- With the party's efforts, Alkinn can deal the final blow to Kush, defeating him.
With a final, desperate cry of rage, Kush falls to his knees. The power that once surged through him now leaks from his body in smoking tendrils of shadow. His monstrous form shudders, and the obsidian scales begin to crack and flake away, his body beginning to dissolve into ash. He struggles to stand, a sneer twisting his face. "This pathetic struggle... You think you've won?" he rasps, a dry chuckle escaping his lips as more of his form crumbles. "I almost pity you... so much effort... for a future that's already gone. Your mother's power... your holy trinket... It's all part of the grand design." As his body crumbles into a pile of black ash, his three eyes fix on the party, burning with a chilling, malevolent light. His voice, a rasping, venomous whisper, seems to echo from the very ground itself. "You have won this battle... but the war is eternal... the hells will rise... and all your precious worlds... will burn."
- Conquering the foe.
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