#113 - The Death of Simel

The Journal of Wynn Dennavar 

Zarantyr 24th, 999 YK

The drow remained fixated on Simel even as Izzeth, in his giant constrictor form, coiled around him and his dizzying duplicates. With a spare shield from Hothyr’s chamber to compensate for my damaged breastplate, I contended with the suit of animated armor that had a vortex of swirling wind instead of legs, but the drow’s behavior kept drawing my attention away from its attacks. The dark elf was a spellcaster as well as a warrior, and his tactic was to use both to take instant control and press the advantage of sudden aggression. Engaging him immediately was the only way to break his momentum, but we were more than evenly matched and Simel was already incapacitated.

It was clear the drow considered it more expedient to avoid obstacles instead of defeating them. He vanished from Izzeth’s coils with a quick spell and appeared beside me. He acknowledged my presence only to dismiss me, then spoke aloud "I regret the need, but this must happen." It was unclear if he spoke to me or to Simel, who could surely not hear. Then with his rapier the drow ran Simel through.

When he withdrew the blade, a shadowy image of it remained suspended in Simel’s body, necrotic shadows swirling around it like smoke. A wall of writhing darkness surrounded them both, encapsulating them like a cocoon. It had the consistency of wet earth, and though my weapon could pierce it, I couldn’t make a usable hole.

Then Cypher came charging from the rear, skirted the barrier and leapt at the air elemental with Magnus’s borrowed mace. His brash courage wasn’t enough to balance his lack of experience with such a weapon. The creature retaliated by whipping the spiked chain around with momentum fueled by its own wind. I slammed back into the barrier and regained consciousness moments later in time to see Cypher stow his wand of healing with uncharacteristic violence.

The chaos in the Blue Wraith’s chamber had remained separate from us until magic dragged the animated armor away from Cypher and me and slammed it into the invisible barrier on the far side of the pit. Izzeth and Cypher heeded Aleae’s unsubtle summons and ran to rally with the others to engage the barbed devil, the Blue Wraith, and any of his undead that still lived.

I remained in place, trying to catch my breath, standing but only barely conscious. I was the only one present when the shadow-barrier around Simel and the drow fell away. The dark elf emerged and flung magic toward me, declaring something as he did. I caught only the word "Katashka," for by now I had heard this name a few times already, but could make nothing of it. I attempted to avoid the crackling black energies that the drow flung, but I was not the target—the elemental creature was. I heard it clang against the pinned armor and I caught a glimpse of wispy, ephermal tendrils grasping and pulling the elemental back.

At the drow’s feet lay Simel in his true, changeling form. The necrotic gut wound already looked weeks old. He was unmistakably dead; I have seen it too many times to mistake it. Even after two years of almost-peace, images flooded back to me at the sight of another sprawled corpse in Karrnathi armor, another fallen comrade. Simel’s changeling face made it even easier for the litany of faces to appear and disappear across it, some more familiar and more painful than others.

This time the clash of arms failed to recall me to the present. I felt cold and very alone, the only Karrn in the middle of a battlefield a thousand miles from home. The constant, subtle comfort that a fellow Karrn had vouched for this ragtag group of Aundarians, Brelish, and Outlanders only made itself evident in its absence. The cacophony sounded distant, like someone else’s fight and that I had just wandered into.

The confusion lasted only a moment, but it was enough to fill me with disgust. The loss of Simel shouldn’t affect my opinion of my allies, unlikely though they may be. Their loyalty to each other and even to me speaks for itself, and I shouldn’t need to be standing next to a Karrn to know my obligations to them.

This drow had a lot to answer for—then I would rejoin the main conflict. I demanded the know his purpose here, because he was clearly no ally of the wizard we were battling. He didn’t answer and ran past me with magic-enhanced speed, toward my companions. I swung my weapon, but missed—he was gone.

With his speed and my injuries I would never catch him. Turning around, I saw the corner of the pit clogged with re-corpses of the ghouls and skeletons and every combatant except the enemy wizard. I couldn’t even see the drow among the press, but I wasn’t observing the effects of a surprise attack, either. The wizard they called the Blue Wraith watched the spectacle from the far side of the invisible barrier, arrogance in his posture. He didn’t know I had a way to reach him.

I tossed the useless shield aside and ran toward the pit, taking the stairs down two or three at a time. I readied myself to call on the Fang’s teleportation magic and sent the Host a swift prayer for enough control to make it across. Cold in my grip, I could feel the partisan's power gathering—and as if in response to my newfound strength of will, the Fang brought me in the blink of an eye right to the wizard's unguarded flank. I scored three solid hits on the wizard before he could ready a spell, but knew I couldn’t hold out for another chance. He fled in dismay and, as the others rounded the corner with Magnus at the head, centered a fireball on us.

I awoke to the too-familiar scent of char with some time lost—the barbed devil was now gone (grasped and forcibly discarded by Aleae's telekinetic magic, I would later learn) but something else had emerged from the pit: a mass of stone and charnel corpses that held Izzeth and Aleae clutched in its rocky fists. Both escaped with magic and Clarion engaged it. Whatever he did caused the corpse creature to flee and then, at a flourish of Aleae’s uncanny wand, it vanished into thin air.

When I reached Magnus and Cypher cornering the Blue Wraith, he was wreathed in magical fire. It didn’t appear to harm him, and didn’t protect him from my attack, but on impact the flames raced down the Fang’s white shaft and for the third time in as many minutes, I was unconscious.