29 - 5/9/22 : Grace Under Pressure

In-game Date: 30th of Freyrmond, 3521     A tense moment passed before Zelem, staring down his rival in the race for Ambermantle's lost gold, finally spoke.   "You're not entirely wrong, we're not so different. But that's because we're not special, Veszaltyrr. There's a million sob stories like yours and mine. Hundreds of people will eventually turn out like you, and hundreds more will turn out like me. No, we're just playing out an age old story. When a tyrant rears his ugly head, there'll always be heroes who arrive to stop them. It should be the group headed for the vault right now, but you had to go and take your mark off cue, so instead you've got me. I don't fancy myself much of a hero, but I'm willing to don the mask long enough to put you down."   He then looked to Panic and Ember, who had just arrived. "Miss Vel... -s..." Zelem grimaced at the confusion and then sighed. "Panic, Ember. This isn't your fight and you shouldn't have come here." A slight, accepting smile crept on his face. "Thank you."   Wordlessly, Veszaltyrr replied by bringing the Heart of Cygnus to bear, and both sides threw themselves into action.   Veszaltyrr wielded immense sorcerous power, unparalleled mortal command over the energies of Mechanus, and a powerful artifact that amplified his magical might. With several Clockwork Angels at his side, Veszaltyrr focused on slinging spells at his opponents, while Zelem and Ruven fought him tooth-and-nail with counterspells.   Ruven attempted to use water and ice to create hazardous terrain for Veszaltyrr; however, his abilities to hover and teleport allowed him respite from such hinderance. Ruven fell back on her old tricks of slinging powerful shamanic cantrips and spells of furious ice to make up for this brief setback.   While she deftly avoided the Clockwork Angel, Raeziel shared some banter with Zelem in the heat of battle. The two agreed, albeit by way of brief mid-combat shouts, to work out some sort of truce, if not an alliance between their organizations after everything was concluded.   Meanwhile, Panic and Ember worked in tandem, with the former illuminating her wife's attacks with powerful Guiding Bolts and protecting her from advancing Clockwork Angels by commanding her trusty fire elemental, LeBron Flames. Ember used the guidance granted by Panic to press the attack, using her powerful Sun Blade and potent fire magic to cut through Veszaltyrr's immense magical defenses.   Angered by her insistent nature, Veszaltyrr targeted Ember with a powerful spell, Power Word: Torment, that caused her excruciating and debilitating pain. Despite this, she fought against the searing agony to hold Veszaltyrr in place with all of her might.   The combat continued on until Veszaltyrr was pushed to his absolute limits. With utmost desperation, the Lord of the Black Network summoned an overwhelming Meteor Swarm, which incapacitated his opponents. Determined to deliver the final blow, Veszaltyrr blinked away from sight and reappeared in front of the temple. He tightly clenched his metal fist, its surface gleaming in the firelight like a piece of metal being hammered by a smith. His expression was flat and distanced, but the fury and rage behind his eyes could not be concealed. The pressure in the air continued to rise, and the battle raging in the sky seemed far from ceasing.   Yet there was an air of finality as Veszaltyrr began channeling his next spell. The Heart of Cygnus spun rapidly, blurring the air around it like a violent singularity. Those who would oppose the Master of Cygnus braced themselves for his next assault, only for a single word to cut the burning night air like a knife through butter.   "Father!"   Standing on a roof untouched by flame, Solauvaire stood with his cane-focus firmly in hand. He looked down upon Veszaltyrr, his face a mix of conviction and abject terror.   For the first time, Veszaltyrr displayed an emotion other than stoic determination; surprise. The magic energy gathered in hands did not disperse, but rested as he addressed the appearance of his estranged son. "Solauvaire. It does my heart well to know the power you wield over this city… but you were a fool to come here, you know. Even without the glyphs, I am a sorcerer of eld. I can still conscript your mind with a hard enough push."   "I know." Solauvaire admitted. "That's why I'm not here to fight you. I've brought someone else who can."   Veszaltyrr whipped his head around to the towering marble figures on the horizon, finding them inert. "Your sleeping statues? They seem quite lethargic for your emergency plan, son."   Solauvaire shook his head and produced a small baton from his jacket; a wand with a dragon's head adorning each end. A third new emotion overtook Veszaltyrr's face, one most unexpected; fear. "The statues sleep today. Instead, I call upon the one being in Revelmoore that you are afraid of. If this is what it takes to stop you, then I am willing to roll the dice."   Before Veszaltyrr could loose his magics against his son, Solauvaire launched the wand into the burning carcass of the temple serving as the battle's backdrop. For a moment, all that happened was the simple sound of breaking glass, barely audible above the roar of the flames… until the flames themselves begun to flicker, twist, and bend into unnatural shapes. The fire climbed the length of the church, spiraling into the coherent form of a man's face, adorned with wild hair and a long, unkempt beard. The face in the flames rose into the air to where it was visible from all points in the city, yawned, and then fell into a maddened cackle before the face of Halaster looked down upon Veszaltyrr with a squinted eye.   Suddenly, a figure burst from the flames; a gaunt man wreathed in a robe adorned with living, blinking eyes of all shapes and sizes landed on the ground with his bare feet, the dual-headed wand in hand. His presence was like a pervasive odor; the ambient magic surrounding Halaster was almost too much for the mind to process, and even the likes of Zelem, Panic, Ruven, and Solauvaire found it difficult to keep their composure in front of the Mad Mage.   Halaster stood up fully and stretches, cackling in laughter and pain alike as his back cracked. As he spoke, the face in flames mimicked his own, amplifying his words for all of Revelmoore to hear.   "I thought I told you, child of the caves, that you were not welcome in my mountain." Halaster proclaimed. His tone of voice and the motion of his hands unsubtly implied that he viewed Revelmoore itself as part of the Undermountain. "Not on the first layer, the third layer, the zeroth, NONE of them! You were warned, stealer of cogs, breaker of pacts, exile of dreams… and now I will finish my grand work! I think I will begin by destroying your other arm!"   Veszaltyrr relinquished his magic and grasped at his brass arm as if it was causing him immense pain. A costly mistake, as Halaster waved his wand in the air, conjuring not three, nor five, but innumerable dozens upon dozens of magic missiles that began to to throw themselves at the dark elf. Veszaltyrr quickly threw up a magical shield and buckled under the pressure of Halaster's fusilade; even the reliable shield spell buckled against the onslaught of hundreds of magic missiles flying in a torrent against him. Halaster's cackles filled the air throughout the city; parties ceased, festivities halted, and even Open Lord Reverie drew her sword from her place in the Palace as if to defend herself from inevitability.   Veszaltyrr did not scream, nor did he protest or claim the unfairness of it all. Looking upon Halaster's faces, feeling the searing pain in his arm, and remembering the weight of the destiny he had taken on for himself, he spoke merely one, short phrase.   "Zesala… forgive me."   …and in a flash, the clock stopped ticking. Veszaltyrr was gone, leaving Halaster able to gloat over his victory with even heartier cackles. As his voice pitched, Halaster floated into the air and into the mouth of his flaming visage, flying higher and higher until finally the fiery likeness of the Mad Mage exploded, bathing all of Revelmoore's night sky in a stunning display of flames not unlike a grand meteor shower.   With the immediate danger passed, Solauvaire quickly administered healing potions to those gathered in the courtyard to keep them alive, and helped them up. Zelem thanked Solauvaire for his timely, yet very peculiar form of assistance, but noted that Clockwork Angels and Modrons continued to harass the Griffin Cavalry above. The battle was not yet over, and Solauvaire conveyed his intent to rejoin the fight. Zelem, Ruven, Raeziel, Panic, and Ember, however, were in no condition to fight, and thus Zelem used the power of his fathomless patron to warp the lot of them to his ship, The House, to recover.   Meanwhile, the Red Spirits found their way into Brandath Crypt, discovering a large wall covered in Dwarven runes that the Stone of Golorr's powers concealed from onlookers. The party offered up...  

• A Token of Friendship From an Enemy - The green steel dagger given by Asmodeus to Megumi
• A Living Creature Without a Heart - Reilly's pet homunculus of her own creation, Róisín
• A Gift From a Loved One Departed - Megumi's wedding ring, recovered by Eula

  With these keys offered, the door opened, revealing the way into the Vault of Dragons.   The vault was massive, like most ancient dwarven structures were, and was completely dark. The party compensated with torches as they delved in, finding false doors and a bewitching painting made to deter intruders. Farther in they encountered animated trolls conjured from stone mosaics, which they dispatched with ease; a far cry from the small-time adventurers who pushed themselves to the limit to fight off a single troll in the Balladeer's Eclipse.   To reach their destination, the party had to cross large gaps in broken bridges. They discovered an anvil that bolstered their fortitude when struck, a trapped statue of dwarven demigod Gorm Gulthyn (also known as "Ol' Fire Eyes"), and a mysterious blurred stairwell that refused any efforts to descend it. A nearby depiction of the Dwarven god Barator stated that a secret never before spoken would allow passage, leading the party to admit the following secrets...  

• Reilly's detailed schemata on Róisín's creation
• The depth of Yilani's affection for the party, as the first real friends she had ever had
• Eula's new name for Sylgar, 'Mr. Fishy'
• Renaer's desire for closure with his father, despite his hatred of the man
• Brooke's ongoing intimate affair with Zelem

  These shocking revelations (some moreso than others) caused the stairwell to cease being imperceptible, allowing the party to descend its nearly hundred feet of stairs into the heart of the Vault of Dragons.   Within, they finally saw it; a massive mountain of gold, once and for all proving that Dagult Ambermantle's crime was no mere enigma. They cautiously examined the massive chamber, noting magical light emanating from a corner of the ceiling meant to emulate sunlight bathing the gold in a shining glow, as well as the rapidly elevating heat. As they approached the gold, a pair of massive, black wings burst from the mound and quickly caught aflame. From within climbed out a gargantuan fiend towering nearly thirty feet above a normal human. The fiend, an abnormally large tanar'ri from the abyss, summoned a flaming sword and whip and then roared ferociously at the Red Spirits.   Reilly recognized the creature immediately thanks to her astute memory; Ar'ginoth, a balor once summoned by Veszaltyrr to assassinate High Dragon Galder Dezlentyr that was subsequently bound into service by Dagult Ambermantle via the Stone of Golorr. The final obstacle between themselves and the gold, this flaming guardian of hellfire and shadow, would spell either victory or death for the Red Spirits. One way or another, the final fate of Ambermantle's Enigma would become known.