From alt.pub.dragons-inn Thu Jan 27 09:26:18 1994
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From: foleye@xanth.CS.ORST.EDU (Stilt Man)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [DS] The Obsidian Tower
Date: 25 Jan 1994 07:33:19 GMT
Organization: Computer Science Department, Oregon State University
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It had taken a while of searching, Emrikol reflected, to find one of the
goblinish refugees to learn of the location of the power that was actively
wiping out their kind.  He had thought the escapade a wasted effort; these
creatures were beneath his concern.  To Kryalla's credit, he reminded himself,
she made no exhibition of concern for them, either.  She was doing this out
of necessity.

Arcania Dorval, Kryalla had explained to him, had on numerous occasions been
responsible for such purges of goblinish creatures on the world of Arghan.
Wherever she went, should she find goblins in her vicinity, she wiped them
out.  Emrikol thought that to be somewhat odd; he had fought Arcania himself,
and so, he surmised, had Kryalla, and it did not seem logical to him why
she should have cause to fear the creatures.  Kryalla stated only that the
Dark One's reasons had nothing to do with fear, and left it at that.

Kryalla had finally found a location to search:  a tower built of obsidian,
not far north of Bottleneck Pass in the Mysty Mountains.  This region, sure
enough, had once been full of orcs and other related creatures.  The goblins
in Generica had all agreed upon this tower being the center of the activities
against their kind in the mountains, and that many supernatural things used
it for a base of operations.  That this would be the hub of Arcania's scheme
Kryalla did not doubt.

Kryalla had the Shroud to conceal her; Emrikol had his own rune magic.  He
was not sure as to whether it would serve him as well, but it was not to be
discounted, certainly.  And to deflect basic scrying spells should be little
trouble with any sort of magic.  Kryalla wanted only to reconnoiter the
Obsidian Tower, not to make an attack.  For this, they needed stealth.

The Tower was on the horizon.  It was clearly visibly against the rock of
the mountains behind it.  Once they were within view, Kryalla stopped and
broke the long silence of the journey.

"Are you prepared?"

"Yes," he said, confident.  "You say the Dark One herself isn't likely to
be in there?" he said, gesturing to the Tower.

"No.  She acted through others on this world before.  My guess is that she has
empowered some minion to act as her viceroy on this world, for she has much
to concern her in Thyaris to risk leaving it unwatched in coming here."

Emrikol nodded.

Kryalla drew her hands beneath her cloak, motioning for him to begin.

Emrikol cast the bandages from his hands, revealing the blue runes scribed
upon his flesh.  There was no need for secrecy here; Kryalla already knew
what he was, and none other watched.  Kryalla was right; they had to use
magic to get in.  The defensive spells on the Tower were not yet strong enough
that they could deflect a transportation spell.  Emrikol was to go first.
His magic would move him to the tower; Kryalla's would move her to his side.
If they both went in without one using the other for a target, they would have
to find one another once they were within.  And Kryalla's magic could find
Emrikol once inside; the Shroud prevented Emrikol from doing the same with
her.

He drew the reality:  he was standing at Kryalla's side, a few miles from
the Tower of Obsidian.  The runes took shape in the air around him, glittering
in hues of red and blue as they acknowledged the way things were.  Then he
drew the alteration:  he was no longer at Kryalla's side, but instead was
within the lower levels of the Tower.  The runes shifted and bent, and the
realm of possibility that made up all possible realities was wrenched to
accept the new reality.  Emrikol's body warped and vanished from Kryalla's
view.

A moment later, she folded the cloak around herself, and vanished also.

				=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Damn," muttered Arcania as she realized what the beacon was telling her.
"Not here, you fool.  Not now!"

Her room in Velric's Tower was much more brightly decorated than any other
in the edifice.  Arcania had little taste for the dismal surroundings Velric
had presented to her.  Thus, when she had moved into the quarters provided
her, she had spruced up the place a bit.  There was even a small fern sitting
in one corner.  Velric had difficulties not laughing whenever he came in here.

She rose from her bed, and took the crimson cloak from where it was folded
on the table beside it, clasping it around her shoulders.  Her jerkin and
trousers were of a reddish leather, complementing the cloak's color.  She
did not bother to open the door.  She merely stepped up to it, and a moment
later was walking through the hallway without.

"Velric!"  She shouted when she saw that his throne room was empty.  "Where
are you?  'Seed!  Where is your Master?!"  she demanded angrily of the ebon
orb that floated beside the empty throne.

In answer, the mists in the chamber began to condense, and formed up around
a human-shaped figure.  The robes and cloak of the cowled Dark Lord billowed
a moment in a small breeze, and the crimson eyes lit to add to the dim glow
of the DarkSeed.  The pale flesh of his hands grasped the cloak around him,
as if he found it too cold even for him.  His face was only barely visible
within the folds of his cloak; the glow of his eyes no longer seemed to light
the rest of his visage.  If she did not look closely or had less keen eyes,
she might think a wraith stood before her.

"What is it, Dark One?"  he asked.

"You have an invader in your Tower, or have you not noticed?"

The eyes widened only slightly.  "Odd.  He is eluding my detection.  He must
be able to conceal his presence with powerful magic."

Arcania's eyes, on the other hand, narrowed more than slightly.  "Then allow
me to illustrate the point."

They were in the throne room no longer.

				=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Kryalla and Emrikol were piecing their way through the catacombs of the Tower.
They had encountered no guards as of yet.  Emrikol was calmly examining the
architecture; Kryalla was mentally mapping the structure.  The magic that was
used to construct the Tower was powerful, Emrikol did not doubt.  Perhaps even
powerful enough to challenge the runes, he admitted.  However, he could also
sense the hands of mensch within them.  A dreary place it was, with no light
save the faint glow of Kryalla's drawn katana blade and that of the runes on
his skin.  No torches were set out for travellers through the halls, which
made Emrikol somewhat uncomfortable.  No living thing can see without light.

But Kryalla had given him reason to think that whatever walked these halls
was not alive.  Emrikol's brows knotted even now as he thought of that.  How
could something walk that was not alive, he wondered.  The idea of necromancy
was a foreign one to him; where he came from, the living had enough to worry
about without trucking with the dead.  However, the idea of bringing a spirit
back from beyond intrigued him somehow, as all things unknown seem fascinating
no matter how terrible they might be.

"A guard," Kryalla whispered to him.  She gestured with the blade into a
doorway next to his right shoulder.  They stepped through the open hole as
the twin figures strode down the hall.

"He should be right around this corner," said a feminine voice as the footsteps
came closer.

Kryalla and Emrikol glanced at each other, neither of them particularly happy 
about why they would be hearing a female's voice in this place.  Especially
when that voice referred to someone being around the corner.

"I see nothing," came a second voice.  It sounded deep, bitter, as if many
years of torment had come to the speaker.  Kryalla wondered who this one
might belong to.

"He is within that doorway there," responded the female.

Emrikol's eyes widened.  The speaker referred to "he," not "they."

"You may come forward, Emrikol," said the speaker, referring to him by name
this time.  "You are hiding nothing from me."

Kryalla looked at him searchingly.  Emrikol could not possibly have looked
more guilty if he had the words, "Yes I do have some way of being tracked"
written on his forehead.  He shrugged, and stepped out into the corridor.
Kryalla followed behind.

There, standing before them, were two figures.  The first they did not
recognize.  He was a pale-skinned figure in black robes and hooded cloak,
his skin drawn tightly about every bone he possessed, his eyes glowing with a
bright red light.  Looking closer, Emrikol could make out a tight-skinned
hairless face within the hood, but the light of his eyes did not fall upon
it.  It simply blended in with the darkness within the hood.

The second needed no introduction to either of them.  The woman with this
dark figure was Arcania Dorval herself.

Arcania's sapphire-colored eyes widened when she saw the Shrouded One standing
behind the man with the rune-scribed skin.  "Well, then, Shrouded One, this
is a pleasant surprise," her voice all jovialness and friendship.

Kryalla inclined her head, looking up at Arcania from beneath lowered brow.
"Indeed, patricide, this is most unexpected."

Emrikol froze.  The other figure behind Arcania observed the two of them
passively, a spark of recognition seeming to light his glittering eyes when
he looked upon Kryalla, but no such honor for Emrikol.

"The other one is yours, Velric," said Arcania.  Her eyes were all for Kryalla.
"The Shrouded One is mine."  Her hands began to shimmer with a pink light
as she stepped toward the two.  "I want both of them alive," she added.

A single word passed Kryalla's ruby lips.  "Seperate."

Emrikol was all too happy.  His eyes found the closest passageway only a
moment ere his feet did.

Kryalla watched as the creature Arcania had identified as the necromancer
Velric dissolved into mists and faded into nothingness.  She took only a
moment to note how much area she had within which to fight.  The hallways
were wide, wide enough that a military skirmish involving a few dozen could
take place within.

"How did you come to be here, Shrouded One?" was all Arcania said as she
circled with her enemy.

"Nightshade dropped a few subtle hints," said Kryalla.  She smiled.  "And
certain refugees from these mountains drop some very unsubtle hints."

"The creatures died painfully, those that Velric captured.  He took a great
deal of glee in torturing them in various ways, getting very creative in
having some of them bludgeoned or strangled with various pieces of their
own relatives.  Why exactly he has taken to the cleansing task with such zeal,
I cannot guess, but it pleases me."

Kryalla feinted with the katana blade, then lunged with a stab with it.
Arcania's eye was too well-trained by experience; the scrape on stone
behind her was a giveaway.  A pink globe surrounded her fist as she lashed
out behind herself with a backhand blow.  A cry of pain sounded from an 
invisible foe, as the illusory katana passed through the Dark One's form 
and vanished.  Kryalla came back into view, falling to her back, her cheek 
bleeding.  The katana clattered down the hall.

Kryalla wasted no time returning to her feet.  "You are learning," she
acknowledged.

"You can fight me only so many times before I recognize certain tricks,"
Arcania smiled.

A scarlet beam of energy struck her from behind, knocking her off balance.
She hastily shifted her feet to avoid falling.

"But a few new ones, I think, will still work," said Kryalla, revealing
herself, bleeding cheek and all, from where the blink spell had moved her
while leaving the usual duplicate in her place.

Arcania could not resist laughing in grudging admiration.  That blast had
actually hurt, and had caught her completely off guard.  It was almost
warming to see that this worthy foe was not growing complacent in her old
tricks.

A second blast of energy met more solid defense from Arcania's magic.  But
this one had come from whence Kryalla had fallen before.  A third lance
struck from still another direction.  Arcania's eyes looked about wildly,
trying to see a pattern.  Kryalla blinked from existence where she stood
upon delivering the third attack, and reappeared directly before Arcania.
A fourth blast struck, and again Kryalla was gone.  The fifth came from
behind, and exploded into a blinding swirl of colors that was obviously
meant to disorient.  Arcania closed her eyes, smiled.  Kryalla had botched
that one; she was faced opposite where the attack had come from, and as such
it had failed to blind as it was intended.  Kryalla appeared for a sixth,
and this bolt of energy passed right through Arcania, striking harmlessly,
or so Arcania felt; the wall that it blasted a hole in would not have given
a similar opinion were it possible to ask it.

Kryalla ceased her rapid blinking, realizing that Arcania had eluded her
for the moment.  The Dark One's illusions were not as powerful as her own,
but they were sufficient, and demonstrated that Arcania was learning from
her old foe.

Kryalla folded her Shroud around herself for protection as her true sight
spells caught a brief glimpse in Arcania's invisibility.  The Dark One
extended a palm towards her, and her feet were lifted from the ground.
Kryalla let go of the cloak, trying to resist the telekinetic spell, but
cursed herself for a fool when the brilliant white blast struck on flesh
protected by Kryalla's lesser shields.  The telekinesis ended, the blast
given free rein to knock her back against the wall.

Kryalla gathered her wits, and leapt as a second blast knocked a huge hole
in the wall.  She stopped short as a wall of blue flames arose before her,
searing her lungs with each gathered breath.  She backed away from it,
back towards her enemy.  She turned and drew her Shroud's substance between
herself and her foe as Arcania launched a third blast, which dissipated
harmlessly on the cloak's cloth.

				=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Emrikol ran for quite some time through the catacombs ere he slowed to a
walk.  He looked around nervously, fearful that she might be following him,
that she might capture and imprison him again.  His mind could focus on
little else at this moment.

Only when a piercing, unholy shriek sounded in the corridor did Emrikol's
mind move to aught else.  Emrikol whirled, and froze in terror at the sound.
The shriek was not quite natural, he knew, and the brightening of the runes
on his skin confirmed it.  He saw a flaming streak coming at him, a pair of
white glints serving as eyes, a larger gaping mouth also glowing in white.
The unholy shriek that was serving to fuse his joints was issuing from that
mouth, which screamed its hatred of all that lived on the earthly plane as it
bore down upon him.  The pyrogeist, as his mind framed a word for the thing,
struck him full in the chest, the face vanishing as the flames of its body
washed over him, threatening to utterly overpower the defenses offered by
the runes.  Emrikol gasped in pain, and fell to his knees.

"Take him," he heard a voice say.

He looked up, and saw a dark-skinned elf standing next to the one called
Velric down the corridor from him.  The voice had been that of the elf,
yet the elf seemed completely oblivious to his surroundings.  Velric's
palm was outstretched toward him.

The hand extended shaped its gesture behind a pointing finger, directed at
Emrikol.  The elf spoke again, "Remember, the Dark One wants him alive."

Emrikol wasn't certain, but it seemed as if though, now that Arcania was no
longer around, Velric was speaking through the elf now.  He looked around in
apprehension, not knowing whether more shrieking pyrogeists would answer the
command.

He saw several creatures walking forward from the shadows, all unclothed.
Their bodies had ebon skin, their eyes were blank white with a slight yellow
glint to them.  Their hair was wild and unkempt, their nails on feet and hand 
grown into claws as long as one of the segments of Emrikol's thumb.  They
were humanoid in shape, and Emrikol examined them briefly with the runes.
Indeed, they once had been human in fact as well as shape.  But the same
magic that had shaped Velric into what he now was had shaped them as well,
consuming them with far greater totality than Velric himself, it seemed.
Their minds were quite gone, their spirits and souls devoured by the dark
powers that had stolen their humanity.  They knew only hatred for that which 
they had been, obedience to the Master.  These two traits combined in their
desire to rip Emrikol limb from limb.

Emrikol, though he considered himself above feeling compassion, could not
help but feel disgust at what had been done to these monsters.  He could
easily understand how Karadin Redbane had devoted his life to destroying
those who practices magic such as this.

The runes came to life at his command, duplicating themselves from those on
his flesh, forming a cluster of glittering letters in the air, a cluster
which shattered and reshaped itself into numerous smaller clusters, which
each selected a wraith and struck.  The creatures felt their bodies
withering, shrieked in pain, felt their unlife being severed from their being.
They knew no fear as they writhed, for even fear was too much an emotion for
their empty hearts.  They knew only release from existence, as their bodies
collapsed into impotent dust on the ground.

"Intriguing," said the elf, as Velric focused his narrowed eyes upon Emrikol.
More than ever, Ermikol was convinced that the elf was serving as a Voice,
an interpreter, for Velric's thoughts.  It was not that the Dark Lord was
incapable of speech; Emrikol had heard the evil thing speaking when they had
been found.  It seemed almost as if . . . Velric felt it beneath him to speak
directly to any but Arcania.  Emrikol frowned.  He did not appreciate being
regarded in this sense; even his lord spoke to him face-to-face when he had
been sent to explore.

The runes shaped themselves into a dagger, which quickly found itself hurled
into the Adam's Apple of the elf accompanying the Dark Lord.  The mensch
choked on it, and twitched a time or two before falling.

"You will address me directly or not at all," said Emrikol to his foe.

Velric's eyes glowed in anger.  He stretched forth his palm again, and a
flame emanated from his hands, a flame that quickly formed into the unsolid
head of a malignant spirit that opened its white pinpoints of eyes and
beheld Emrikol.  The mouth opened in the same hateful shriek as before, and
the flames launched after the tattooed mage.  Emrikol could only move slowly
as the thing bore down upon him, but it seemed not to matter.  The creature's
eyes followed him as he moved sluggishly, his attempts to escape the strike
the creature represented hampered by the magic of its terrible wail.  The
pyrogeist slammed into Emrikol, lifting him off his feet and throwing him
to the floor with flames wreathing his body until they flared out.

Emrikol angrily stood, drawing the runes into a wall between himself and
Velric.  Velric's eyes stayed narrow, and weaved his hands in a peculiar
manner.  The wall of runes began to falter, Emrikol saw.  He spoke a word
in his ancient language, and the wall formed itself into a long chain that
wrapped itself about Velric, seizing the enraged Dark Lord in its coils and
holding him fast.

Velric's eyes narrowed more, thin slits of crimson now regarding Emrikol
with hatred.  "The DarkSeed has not yet empowered me to its full extent,
but already I am strong enough to resist these coils," came the deep and
menacing voice.  A powerful movement of his loose-sleeved arms, and the
runes stretched and broke into incoherent streams of energy, that shifted
in its color to red, no longer in lettered shape.  Velric pointed at the
other, and the red coils that were once runes hurtled at Emrikol, grasping for
him as they had trapped Velric, but no longer in rune shape, no longer
subject to Emrikol's control.

But apparently Emrikol had foreseen the possibility of his attack being
reversed upon him.  Seeing Velric break the rune-prison, Emrikol realized
that his hopes for winning a one-on-one contest here were only slightly
better than they had been against Arcania.  He no longer wished to play
this game.  He had seen the possibility happening when Velric broke his
bonds.  He had invoked the possibility that, if such an attack were launched,
he would not be there to receive it.

Emrikol vanished.  The coils of red curled about empty air and vanished.
Velric seethed with fury, looking about to see if Emrikol were elsewhere
within the castle.  The rune magic was almost as powerful as the DarkSeed's,
however.  He could find no trace of the man with his own scrying magic.

The mental call went out.  Every wraith in the Obsidian Tower awakened at
their Master's command.  The Dark Lord was adamant that Emrikol must be
found.  The death of his Voice, an attack on his person, could not go
unpunished.

			=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Arcania struck wildly with her glowing fists at the image of Kryalla before
her.  The image was, alas, another illusion.  Arcania was losing patience;
she made a mental note to research still further into her true-sight spells,
which were proving inadequate against Kryalla's illusions.  They found the
true Shrouded One on occasion, which was far more powerful than any other
wizard in her knowledge could field against this enemy, but Arcania was a
perfectionist.  Spells were either a total success or a total failure.  There
was no room in any sort of magic, in her eye, for partial succsess, not at
this level.

The white fireball struck from out of nowhere.  Arcania writhed in genuine
agony, for even she could not withstand the wrenching of her body and soul
the pure elemental flame exerted upon her.  No mystical defense Arcania knew
of could shield against it fully; it was too powerful.  Lesser creatures of
evil would be destroyed by such an attack; Velric's wraiths would be decimated
by them, save for a few powerful ones Velric kept for use to send to cities
to raise havoc.  Kryalla had encountered such a wraith before.  Arcania
herself, however, could survive it at least, if not without a great deal of
pain.

Arcania's eyes were beginning to glitter red as well.  She pushed her true
sight spells to their limit, finding the true enemy.  She wished she could
extend this spell through scrying, hopefully to help find Kryalla better
when she was not within physical view, but as difficult as the true sight
spell for physical viewing was, for scrying it was near impossible to use
more than the simplest of true-vision spells.  Arcania closed her fist, and
began to collect the energy for a small transdimensional portal within her
fingers.  She extended her left hand and deflected a second ball of flame
sent at her, managing to turn the spell into the wall.  Kryalla stood her
ground, for she had Arcania on the defensive at the moment.

Emrikol came running around the corner, seeing Kryalla engaged in battle
with the Dark One.

"Kryalla!"  he called, allowing her to know she had help.

Kryalla saw the white glow emanating from within Arcania's closed fist.
An expletive escaped her lips that had Emrikol wide-eyed in shock at the
uncharacteristic statement.  Kryalla folded her cloak around herself, and
closed her eyes tightly, shouting, "Emrikol!  Behind me!"

Emrikol saw Arcania begin to extend her hand, and dived behind the Shroud
of Kryalla Simuel.

As Arcania turned her palm outward, the white disk in her hand opened into
a portal across the dimensions.  One dimension in particular, Arcania opened
the way to.  The dimension in question had no solid matter within it, for
it was filled with great amounts of a liquid that gave off a bright 
corruscating light, that could destroy any substance it touched, even
adamant.  Any matter that found its way into this dimension was destroyed
instantly on contact with this all-devouring acid.  This liquid is under
much greater pressure than the air on human-inhabited worlds, and as such,
when a portal is opened, the liquid comes through onto this side in a great
spout.

The result, as those few who have fought Arcania Dorval in the past and 
survived call it, is the phenomenon known as the "Geyser of Death."

The corruscating acid spouted forth in a great cone in all directions before
the pinhole Arcania held open only for a brief instant in her palm, washing 
against Kryalla's Shroud.  The ebon cloth shrivelled and gave way slowly 
before it, until Kryalla herself gasped in agony and collapsed from the pain 
as a few drops of the substance found her skin.

Emrikol opened his eyes and looked around.  The walls and floor around them
had been reduced to a great open hole, a crater deepening the floor, the
walls revealing another three or four corridors down.  Only the floor on
the lee of Kryalla's Shroud had escaped destruction.  Kryalla herself was
bleeding profusely from two dozen points on her ivory skin, her consciousness
quite gone.  The only remnants of the Shroud were a scrap of ebon cloth that
had also been opposite Kryalla from the dreadful strike.  It was no longer
clasped, and was lying free on the floor.

Arcania began to stride forward, her attention turning to Emrikol.  His eyes
widened in horror, and instinctively he calculated a course of action.  The
Shrouded One would be taken; that much was clear.  As such, the Shroud would
certainly be in better hands if he took it for himself for now, and it would
also prevent Arcania from using whatever means she used to track him.  Even
as he watched, the ebon cloth regenerated, the hood beginning to take shape.  
Emrikol threw the quickly-reforming Shroud over his own shoulders, drawing
a rune on Kryalla's shoulder with his finger.  The letter glittered blue a
moment, then vanished from sight altogether.  Clasping the Shroud close,
Emrikol sprinted for his life.

Arcania watched him go.  She looked down at the bleeding Shrouded One, who
almost seemed naked with only the leather armor covering her features, in
a way, without the Shroud that seemed almost a part of her being.  She set 
her hand flat upon Kryalla's face, and the bleeding ceased.  Emrikol was 
nothing.  He could be found again, and would certainly return for Kryalla, 
Arcania thought.  The main prize is here.

Hefting Kryalla Simuel over her right shoulder, Arcania Dorval turned from
the scene of devastation and strode towards the stairs leading upward into
the Tower.

+=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+
+	Kryalla Simuel the Shrouded One			  +
+=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+
+       . . . scribed by the Stilt Man,			  +
+		foleye@xanth.cs.orst.edu		  +
+=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+