Thank you to all (and any) who have the patience to continue to read Yasha's continuing adventures. I know the updates are few and far between, but I truly do appreciate the feedback I get. In game terms, Yasha has used the paladin's lay on hands ability to heal herself and others, as well as the Divine Might and Divine Shield feats, which convert raw turn undead abilities into protective and offensive energies. Of course, she also Taunts her opponents, but that's par for the course, isn't it?
Yasha closed her eyes and bowed her head in exhausted frustration. Before them, another mighty pile of bones lay battered and crumbled, but the dracolich's cunning spirit had fled true death once more. Fingering an empty healing vial between her fingers, Yasha considered their situation. Their healing supplies were nearly exhausted, while the undead dragon rose in a new body, fully refreshed, again and again and again. Deekin's still form lay as far from the battles as they could carry him before Vix'thra had come after them again, but he only barely clung to life. She shook her head, and made a sour face before nodding up to Nathyrra.
"Let's go with your plan, then," she conceded finally. The drow's eyes glowed crimson in the shadowed cavern as Yasha agreed to her daring plan. "But be careful."
Yasha sighed as the drow turned away eagerly, and tried to shrug off the gloomy weariness that plagued her mind and body. Rubbing her worn symbol of Torm, Yasha bowed her head once more. "May Torm and Tymora guide your path."
"Eilistraee kyorl dos," came the disembodied reply.
A surprised look in the drow's direction revealed nothing but shadows, which wasn't terribly surprising. Nathyrra had already disappeared to start her role in this gambit. It was time Yasha and Valen started theirs. They looked at each other, and Yasha nodded at him, acknowledging the grim determination in his eyes and indicating she was ready. She could only hope she could find that in level of it within herself.
They charged towards the distant noises in the darkness that indicated where Vix'thra's next body was reviving. They took it off guard for the first time in their encounter, and Yasha's blade actually struck the creature full before it could sheath itself in a stony shell. She smiled grimly as the blow sent a shock wave of holy magic through the creature's body that staggered it, and ruined its protective casting. With a ghostly roar, the mighty creature focused on her. Valen's weapon pounded against the creature's exposed flank as he dashed in before it could bring its snapping tail into play. It shrugged him off, though, first trying to pin her beneath one of its massive claws, then falling forward to snap at her in frustration. She was immediately on the defensive, dodging claws and teeth and spells, and couldn't get Duty close enough to its might body to land a telling blow after the first hit.
Then again, this time, that wasn't her goal.
Valen caught her eye, motioning briefly back and to her left. She didn't have time to respond. With every dodge and feint, however, she retreated in that direction. Vix'thra followed, pressing his advantage. He lowered his head, and stalked her on all fours like a great cat, snapping his huge saber fangs with every pass of his head. She drew him backwards, encouraging his confident drive, though she was a little concerned by how very easy it was to feign terror of the towering dracolich.
Then the creature froze, its great, glowing eyes narrowing to horizontal slits. It reared back on its hind legs, twisting its skeletal neck to look back in the very direction Yasha had been leading it away from.
"Hey!" Yasha yelled. She growled at herself at how faint her voice sounded. Bracing herself, she took a step forward. "Face me you…you…." she paused, her mind scrambling for some way to regain its attention. She switched to draconic, and was somewhat surprised at how well the sibilant language carried in the dark cavern. "Face me you overgrown lizard."
"Oh, that's so original," came a low voice from over her shoulder. Yasha made a sour face, but ignored Enserric for the moment, as the draconic skull had swiveled back to look at her.
It snarled once more, disdain filling its voice, and responded in her own language. "Do not butcher the language of your betters." Like its growls and casting, its booming voice was tempered by a ghostly echo, as if its voice traveled to her from the bottom of a deep well. "You speak it like a kobold."
Yasha couldn't hold back a startled laugh. It was not conducive to getting the thing to respect her, perhaps, but she couldn't help it. There was a very good reason she spoke draconic with a kobold accent, after all. Either that, or she was just a touch hysterical; one or the other. The laughing seem to enrage the undead dragon, for it turned fully towards her once more, rearing up so far its skull disappeared into the shadows of the cavern's ceiling, and only its eyes shown down from the massive height. Yasha swallowed back a pang of fear as the creature was cloaked in shadows.
This was not the shadow drake. This was not the same.
"Fool, your games are nothing," it boasted, its eyes blood red beacons high above. "You cannot kill a god."
Yasha knew some sages that might argue that point, considering events in Faerun's history. She laughed again, mostly since it seemed so effective at keeping its attention, and continued with what draconic she knew. "Here and I had assumed that this notion was just trickery by your followers. Who would have thought that it was you who was so deluded?"
"DELUDED!" It fell forward on all four feet with such force that the floor shook, and the sound of rocks clattering from the walls and ceiling echoed from all around her. She licked her lips and backed away once more. "YOU…INSIGNIFICANT…WORM!"
"Oh, look who's using clichéd insults, NOW," she replied, gripping both Duty and her shield tightly. She braced herself for an enraged attack as it hefted one great clawed foot from the floor, but was startled when it began to chant a spell instead. She swayed foot to foot for precious moments, undecided as to whether she should charge, or stay back and attempt to dodge the worst of whatever spell he would throw at her. Thus, when he turned and directed the powerful bolt of lightning back over his shoulder, she was utterly unprepared to even scream a warning.
The great bolt of blue tore across the cavern in an instant, slamming into the far wall just as the crack of thunder from its passing boomed through Yasha's armor and into her bones. Was that a figure she saw dodging away from the deadly strike? Did it get clear? Then the darkness closed in once more, and cursing her own short sightedness in staring straight into the electric flash of light, she struggled to blink away the blinding after image. The expected blow from the dragon didn't fall on her head, however, for it instead launched another spell at the far end of the cavern, this one raining fire against the crumbling rocks. Still blinking desperately, Yasha charged the creature again, trusting that its size alone would allow her blade to hit despite her partial blindness. Somewhere ahead and to her left, she heard Valen's strike a powerful blow as well. Both she and Valen focused single-mindedly on beating the creature down, and she could hear his blows as much as she could feel Duty connect with the massive bones of the creature that towered over her.
It laughed at them, even as half of its spells fizzled to nothingness, his casting ruined by their blows. It laughed, for the half that exploded across the cavern seemed to have done their job. It continued to laugh even as the magic that held another of its bodies faded away, and the thing crumbled into a pile of gigantic bones. As before, its spirit rose as an evil mist from the ruined body, and it grinned at her mockingly before spreading insubstantial wings and launching itself once more in the shadowed cavern.
The steady pound of footsteps drew her eyes away from the disappearing spirit. Valen was taking off towards the area that took the brunt of the draconic spell fire. It was also, of course, the area that Nathyrra had planned to go to seek out the creatures true heart – its phylactery. Yasha grabbed Duty tighter and took off after the tiefling's receding footsteps, still blinking away the last of the spots before her eyes. They had gambled that Nathyrra could finish the combat at last with this tactic, and Yasha only hoped that they had not lost her life on this particular toss of the dice.
Dread held Yasha's heart still for a moment, as she caught up to find Valen kneeling beside the crumpled form of their drow companion. Nathyrra groaned, then, and turned in response to Valen's gentle tug on her shoulder. She had to have been quick on her feet indeed to have survived the onslaught Vix'thra had sent her way, but the fiery magics had still taken their toll. The light of Duty's white flames revealed vicious, angry burns covering most of the skin that Yasha could see, and in some place her blackened leather armor still smoldered. Nathyrra groaned once more, waving both Valen and Yasha closer.
"The…the phylact...phylactery," she started, her words slow and painful. She squinted, at them, obviously fighting against the pain to form her words.
"Did you find it?" Valen asked with quiet urgency.
She shook her head briefly and winced. "The wall…."
Yasha looked up at the imposing stone wall of the cavern, searching in vain for some sign of the creature's life force.
"Not…there," the dark elf continued painfully.
Yasha bit back a growl of frustration. They had been so sure that the phylactery was hidden in the back of the creature's cave.
"Do you know where it might be then?" she asked, trying hard to keep her voice clear and even. Still, Nathyrra looked up at her in confusion and then obvious frustration.
She shook her head at the paladin, "No…no. You…it's…." Nathyrra's words broke off with a gasp, and she grimaced, her breathing coming fast. Yasha laid a hand on the drow's shoulder, willing what little healing she had left into the drow's burned form. The pain receded from Nathyrra's face, but so did any sign of consciousness. Yasha tried to focus more of the healing power on her companion, but exhaustion numbed her senses. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand back and looked up at Valen.
"Do you have a healing potion left?" she asked.
He looked at her, a grim frown shadowing his features. "Yes, my lady, I do," he said after a moment's hesitation. His tail flicked rhythmically behind him as he slowly fished a vial from somewhere at his belt. Once it was in his hands, though, he paused once more, fingering it thoughtfully.
At Yasha's impatient look, his lips compressed in a thin line. "It is also my last source of healing. You just demonstrated that you no longer have the strength to use your paladin healing. How many potions do you have left?"
Yasha frowned at him for a long time. His ice blue eyes grew even colder as they locked gazes over Nathyrra's still form. She gritted her teeth and bit off the words of her reply. "None, but you're not suggesting we leave her like this and save the potion for ourselves?"
His dour gaze intensified at her tone, and his jaw clenched and unclenched several times before he answered. "What do you think, my lady?" The honorific sounded distinctly dishonorable the way he said it. His tail twitched faster and more erratically.
She bit back her initial reply. With that one potion, they might be able to get Nathyrra barely back in fighting form, but would the shadowdancer's extra blade last long? Would it be worth the trade off? He suggested practicality, but it went utterly against her grain.
Something must have changed in her posture, because Valen's voice had softened somewhat when he continued. "You stabilized her with the last of the healing you had, Yasha. She is a skilled fighter, but her best chance for survival at this point is our survival."
Yasha flinched from his words, and struggled to find some way to deny them. She sought within herself for some final reserve of strength to channel more of Torm's power into healing, but could not find it. She floundered for some argument against his words, for it grated on her to admit he was right. They were in a terrible and desperate situation. Nathyrra's blades were quick and deadly against smaller, living opponents, but Valen's mighty weapon and Duty were both more effective against the dracolich's magically animated bodies, and having her up and in the fray meant that it was more likely that she would be injured again, and this time be pushed through death's door entirely. She gritted her teeth as Valen moved to gingerly pick up the drow's limp form. He frowned down at her when she hesitated to follow. Snarling to herself, she pushed up and stood, then sullenly paced beside him as they rushed back to the place where Deekin still lay.
Bones rattled in the darkness, and Duty flared brighter even as Valen lay their drow companion back down. Though it had disappeared into the darkness, Vix'thra's evil hung heavily in the air and its dark power still prickled along Yasha's skin. It had fled, perhaps, but to another body, where it was quickly orienting itself. They had but one bottle of healing between them, and two of their companions were down and defenseless.
"How many fully grown dragon skeletons can one creature collect anyway?" she grumbled.
Valen returned to her side, grunting in ironic amusement. The walked away from their fallen companions, leaving enough room, hopefully, that no fallout from the dracolich's spells would catch them. After the creature's last performance, however, Yasha was left to wonder if it would not target them anyway.
"Oh, I do so hope I won't be relegated to dragon horde," Enserric commented from behind her head. "I've had quite enough of the company of the undead for quite some time."
"Yes, Enserric, that would be quite a tragedy," Yasha replied dryly. She looked back at her still companions, and at the grimly braced tiefling at her side. She'd danced on death's door before, after all, but for the first time she seriously considered the possibility that she and her companions would become permanent and grim markers of death in Vix'thra's lair.
Or worse, she would survive the encounter in the same way she had survived her last fight with a dragon, while those around her died. She shook her head against the tears that dread stung her eyes with. This was no time to cry. She took a short shuddering breath, and found she could no longer bear to look at those she had, apparently, led to their deaths. Some great hope she was.
"I'm sorry."
Valen moved slightly in the corner of her eye. Surprise? Disbelief?
"For what?" he replied.
"The Seer's goal here was already met when we destroyed the bone golem creator and freed the angel," she explained. She had to explain, while she still could. She thought about the poor people up in the village, and the fearful looks in their eye; the lack of hope in a small girl's soul. "I had to come down here, to try to free the people above from Vix'thra once and for all, but I should not have dragged all of you down with me."
Though she tried to say the words quietly, the silence after she spoke was deafening. Yasha kept her eyes firmly ahead, scanning the darkness for the mighty dracolich's return, and pushed away the desire to see on Valen's face how her apology was accepted.
"I think you'd find," he began slowly, "that dragging me anywhere I do not wish to go would be much more of a challenge than you suggest."
She risked a glance back at him, but he had mimicked her stance, and looked intently into the shadowed cavern instead of at her. She considered for a moment, then turned back to watch for their foe. She nipped on her lip for a bit, while she considered her next words.
"What would you say, " she asked finally, "if I asked you to take the others and flee while I held him off?"
"So you could die a glorious death here?" he asked in surprised disbelief, growling glorious like it was some form of profanity.
"If only," she replied grimly. A clean death would probably be preferable to what she suspected would actually happen. At least she felt fairly confident of her soul's reprieve if she gave her life in a battle with the evil dragon. If what she suspected would happen occurred instead, she held no such confidence. "Don't worry about me," she continued in a slightly louder voice. "Would you do it?"
"If you were to ask," he replied after a moment, "I would be forced to remind you that with no healing supplies and both of them unable to defend themselves, it is very unlikely that we would survive the trip back through the temple above, let alone through the Underdark back to the Seer's encampment." He paused, apparently to let that truth sink in. "Besides, I'm fairly certain the Seer would be unhappy with me were I to return without her prophesied savior."
She glanced at him once more, and caught a wry returning glance. He smiled briefly at his own dark humor as he continued. "But I'm certain you would not ask me to do such a thing, my lady."
"Besides, if you followed THAT plan," Enserric grumbled, "I would still end up buried in a horde of treasure for the next millennia, so it is definitely out of the question."
Yasha snorted, and shook her head. She couldn't quell a pleased smile, despite their desperate situation. "Then I suppose our only choice is to face Vix'thra down and defeat him once and for all."
Enserric harrumphed, grumbling that if that were her intent she'd best use the superior sword. Valen nodded at her grimly, and shifted his stance to hold his huge weapon at the ready. Yasha checked the straps that held her shield and then lifted Duty in preparation. This would be their final engagement with Vix'thra, one way or the other.