Brief Recap: Last turn, the company was reunited and charged by King Ozrik with stopping the Ritual of Ruin. But they were too late, and the Ritual was completed.

The Ritual of Ruin

On the fifth day a great rumbling was heard in the Eastern mountains. The mages, Kellorn and Gregor looked at one another with great alarm. "We have failed," Kellorn said. It is the ritual! The sky darkened, then was lit again as if on fire. Soon the entire horizon seemed to be covered in flames. The sky looked like a fiery lake, casting a haunting lurid red glow, thrusting the Wurld like tinder into the hellish landscape of the Plane of the Dead. A long silence descended upon the Keep. Even the sounds of the terrified and fleeing attackers below stood muffled by the strange mystical silence. Moments seemed as hours.

"Lord!" A young soldier cried, breaking the silence. "Some beast approaches from the east!" His eyes were bloodshot with terror as terrifying fear preceded the beast. In the distance, a screeching sound was heard drawing nearer. A singular dragon with fire escaping its nostrils and wings as dark as coal embers approached the Keep. Upon its back sat a rider. Soldiers on the ramparts fled in terror.

The heavy gloom of the reddish sky casts the dragon as a huge wraith-like shadow descending upon the party. Only the King, the party and the few men strong enough to resist the horrifying ring in their ears the fear had caused managed to stand their ground. Kellorn, Gregor, and Vingrot stood protectively in front of Ozrik. Mog thrust a magical rod into the air prepared for the worst. The other stood by, swords ready.

As it approached, the dragon circled slowly overhead. It descended and perched itself on the walls of the keep like a bird would sit on weathervane. Stone can be heard crushing under it violent claws. Its rider was clad in full plate armor. His helmet bore the horns of a minotaur and upon his armour were etched strange writings. His shield crest was a fully black spider. He swung his leg over the dragon-saddle and dismounted to stand before the group. He looked at each party member, but did not raise his sword. "I am General Ki' Yaz Xamidim," his voice boomed. "I am the tamer of Sleethatz, whom you will recognize for she was slain by your Lord's hand long ago, and I am a servant of the Goddess Lolth. I come to offer you hope in Heklamar's greatest hour of misfortune. For now the dead walk amongst you. A great war is being waged, in which humankind and demi-humans alike have found themselves as pawns. Asmodeus and his minions have completed the ritual of ruin and brought themselves a great advantage in this conflict. If the ritual is not reversed before the turning of the moon it shall become permanent and Asmodeus will have defeated the Goddess. With this comes the death of mankind as all that are living cannot long survive this hell. Even now Asmodeus devours the living en masse as sacrifice. Even now imps and incubi race toward your keep, intent on destroying those Asmodeus knows might challenge his good fortune. The moon is beginning its turn and time is flowing away for mankind." He pauses here and removes his helmet. He is Githyanki.

Mog, readied a spell and knowing much of the Gith, prepared himself for the mental blast that this killer would surely send at them. "Where is Thae-Rune Ibn?" the old orcish shaman asked. "Are you in league with him? And why should we trust one who would enslave us?" Xamidim looked at the Orc, cleared his throat and continued. "Asmodeus knows that only one who lives and who has tasted the magic of the Lich Acerarak can undo the Ritual of Ruin. For the Crown and Sceptre that destroyed Acerarak wield a far greater and deadlier power than even it seemed. Asmodeus searches for this man now. Thae Rune Ibn has told me where this man lies, near death, awaiting rescue and salvation. I have arranged a guide to take you there. It is one you know. He will meet you at the Crossroads of Yltth, a landmark that lives in Hell but now on the Wurld as well. From there, you must travel to Asmodeus' lair and destroy the Crown and Sceptre in his presence, insuring his defeat and separating these two worlds again. The guide will meet you three days hence. Ride your stoutest horses so that they can carry you at least this far before they are overtaken by the imps that will pursue you. You are left with a choice between death and death. I hope that you choose well."

"Where be this Crossroads of Yllth?" Mog yelled as the creature remounted. Xamidin placed the helmet on his head and flipped the visor to look upon the heroes. "Travel due east. The crossroads will wait there for you." "Why do you ask this of us? Ozrik asked. "All I can answer is thus--it is ordained. There are few of us in hell who can walk the Halls of the Dead. And these tasks that we must undertake in the Halls outweigh even this I have put upon you. Nevertheless, to live long here is a phenomenon even the Flayer Fzzlch would be hard pressed to accomplish. The Gith's eyes seemed to smile as he lowered his visor. "You are the only hope for mankind and for my kind. What strange bedfellows doom makes." With that, he kicked the dragon and ascended into the sky, flying away.

Far below, in the bowels of Ozrik's castle, Fzzlch was scrying on the party. He knew this knight from decades past. His facial tentacles twitched as he wished he could slay this Gith who was already dead. He did nothing, but calm his mind and consider his options.

Posting Instructions: Please post your actions for the round.

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