Portal to the Abyss

It was a cold, gloomy night, and the innkeeper sighed. It had been weeks since a customer had stayed an entire night. “If this keeps up,” he said to himself, “I’ll go out of business.” The sound of boots stepping on the clean, wood floor startled him, and he found himself face to face with a tall half-elf. The man’s emerald green eyes seemed to pierce the gloom. Short, well-cut hair covered a bit of his forehead, but it wasn’t enough to hide the scar that ran down the right side of his face. His ears were a combination of an elf and a human, hence the race; They were short, like a human’s, but ended in pronounced points, like an elf’s. The half elf appeared to be moderately armed. The innkeeper spied a longsword that was strapped to his potential customer’s back, as was the shortbow. The innkeeper also noticed the scabbard of a scimitar strapped horizontally to the man’s belt, and he wore the insignia of the Elven lord, Aramil Amakiir, on his tunic. The man was by no means alone. An elf, which also wore the insignia of the Elven lord, stood beside the half-elf, as well as a half-orc, which towered over the group and wore the dressing of a cleric. There were three other clerics in the group, all of whom were human. Two were dressed as clerics of Tymora, the deity of luck, while the other one wore a right gauntlet with an eye in its center. The gauntlet stood out from the armor the man wore, mostly because it was blue. All the clerics were wearing scalemail. The two clerics of Tymora had a heavy mace, while the mysterious cleric had a very large sword strapped to his back. There was also a samurai, as well as an odd looking man who had splotches of orcish colored skin with a shortspear, as well as a beautiful woman with a longsword. There was also another half-elf, only this one had a longsword, a shortsword, a scimitar, a shortbow and what appeared to be a dagger. Accompanying him was another human, who looked rather suspicious to the innkeeper. The man appeared to have no weapons, but the innkeeper swore he saw the bulge of a dagger underneath his leather armor. “We would like to stay here for the night,” said the half-elf. “We’ve had quite a busy day. Name your price for one night.” “Um, err, ah” stuttered the innkeeper, who was getting quite nervous. “T-t-t-ten s-s-s-silver pieces,” he finally said. Each person paid separately. When it was the mysterious cleric’s turn to pay, the innkeeper asked what deity the man followed, and the man replied in a hard, emotionless voice: “Helm, the Eternal Sentry.”

Elsewhere, in the city’s underground, strange things were about to happen. A halfling with a hood covering his face walked quickly and quietly down the street. “I hope Milo is right about this,” he thought. He quickly rounded the corner of the street and entered the building. The building was well built, but rather squat. He never did like walking down the halls of his employer’s house. Each and every hall was decorated with the gruesome trophies of the creatures his employer had killed. The hidden halls were much worse. The trophies mounted on the walls of those were the heads of the living beings his employer had killed. Each wall was covered with heads ranging from drow to mindflayers. “Ugh,” thought Garret. “This place is worse then that palace where the king killed his servants for his own personal amusement.” He finally arrived to his employer’s main room, where a huge blob sat on a chair, eating a wide variety of foods. “Ummmmm, are you Oscar the Foul?” asked Garret nervously. “Call me Oscar the Disgustingly Foul,” replied Oscar. As he did so, food shot from his mouth and splattered Garret. “Great” thought Garret. “I’m hired by the fattest, most drunken creature I’ve ever met in my life.” “I’ve heard that halflings make excellent cooks” slobbered Oscar. “From now on, you will prepare all my meals. All 10 of them.” “What?!” screamed Garret. “I don’t cook! I’m a very well trained assassin! I don’t cook for people!” “Too bad!” said Oscar. Suddenly, Garret’s face twisted into a menacing expression. “Don’t underestimate my other skills, Oscar.” He said. “Whatever are you going to do, kill me?” Said Oscar. “Precisely,” replied Garret. To Garret’s surprise, Oscar wasn’t afraid. In fact, he was laughing. “You try to kill me, and my trophies will come to my aid and rip you to shreds.” With that, Garret heard the screech of the rocs that he’d seen in the corridors. “Oh boy” thought Garret. He acted quickly. He threw his dagger, which had been dipped in poison earlier, straight and true at Oscar, who wheezed, and collapsed, a pool of blood began to form around him. Garret turned to run, but the doors were all closed. Then he did something that no assassin could do. He panicked. This room had no windows or doors. As he scrambled frantically, trying to find an exit, the creatures burst through the walls. In the next five seconds, the entire room was filled with creatures. Garret quickly cast a spell, turned invisible and tried to sneak out of the room via the hole the creatures had made, but a troll smelled him and smashed him half way across the room, revealing him as soon as the troll hit him. The creatures leaped upon him and his scream emanated throughout the town.

When the feeding frenzy was over, a secret door opened, revealing an elf. His eyes, however, revealed no trace of life. Behind him, a human entered. Looking upon the blood spattered room, he sighed. “Him and his damn appetite.” Said the man. “Oh well, I still have a very powerful elven necromancer under my command,” And the real Oscar the Foul laughed.

In his room, Ivellios the elf awoke from his slumber with a scream. The scream he had heard had sounded so close, and yet so far away. He didn’t feel good, so to help him relax he began to read his two spellbooks and to copy the spells from the scrolls he’d found into his books. He looked at his younger half-brother, who slept peacefully. Ivellios felt safer, somehow, whenever he was around his half-brother. It was probably because of his brother’s battle prowess. No matter how hard he tried; he couldn’t get the memory of how his brother had gotten his scar out of his head. It had been a summer afternoon, and his brother had been practicing with his longsword, when some thugs picked on him, and began mocking him because of his elven heritage. They kept forgetting how short a temper Martin had. By the time he and his father, Aramil had gotten to the scene, each of the thugs were face down in the mud, dead, and Martin had a hand over the right side of his face. He’d ask the group if they’d heard the same scream he had.

In the morning, there was a discussion. Ivellios Amakiir told everyone about the scream. Tonga, the half-orc had slept hard all night and hadn’t heard a thing. The humans in the group: Linda, Austin Dowers, Nanashi, Kerana, Tsunarus, Revan and Mr. Steal hadn’t heard a thing either, but the sorcerer with the blotched skin, Terrsak, said he’d heard a noise, but he couldn’t discern it. The half-elves, Billy B. Bob and Martin Amakiir thought they’d heard a noise, but Martin had dismissed it as something in his dream. After great discussion, the group agreed to investigate the noise. The problem was, they didn’t know where to start. Terrsak left for no apparent reason, and after an hour, he returned, and had found information on it. The scream had come from a building in the southeast part of town, in the home of a well-known crime boss, Oscar the Foul. He’d also picked up rumors that he was also a buyer of slaves and a dealer with devils, but these weren’t confirmed. “We should be careful.” Linda advised. “We don’t know what we’re up against.” Ivellios and Martin seemed to be discussing something, and this was broken when Kerana shouted at them to stop thinking about their father, who had gone missing a few years ago. Soon they were prepared to go, but had to stop quickly when Austin had to get some new armor. Then they were off.

In the basement of his home, Oscar the Foul was conversing with someone in the shadows. “Is the portal ready?” asked the shadowy figure. “It is nearly complete,” said Oscar. “Soon you shall have as many slaves as you wish.” “Be careful, Oscar. Your newfound slave is not all that he seems,” said the figure. Oscar snorted. “What do I have to fear from a person I have charmed?” he asked. “Plenty,” replied the figure. And then vanished with a puff of smoke. “Damn Glabrezu, telling me to beware of things that won’t harm me” said Oscar. “Come, Aramil, we’ve got work to do.” As the two scaled the stairs, Aramil smiled, and a sparkle flashed in his eyes. “You fool!” thought Aramil.

Several minutes later, acrid black smoke swirled out of the floor and entered the body of Oscar the Foul.

The group found the house easily, but the door was locked, and Mr. Steal couldn’t pick the lock. “Screw this.” said Martin, who pulled a small greataxe off a small necklace that he wore, which enlarged immediately in his hand, and hacked the door to bits. Martin put the greataxe back, and the group entered the building.

Oscar heard the noise, and told the guards to be on full alert. The guards, however, were excited for battle, charged, tripping over each other, and fell down the stairs. Oscar smacked his forehead with his hand in disbelief.

The group had quickly arranged themselves so they couldn’t be ambushed from behind or from the front. Oddly, they put Martin up front. Soon enough, the group was attacked by some of Oscar’s elite guards, and a long and bloody one battle erupted.

Oscar watched the battle via a scrying sensor, placed in the hallway. He watched with great interest. The clerics had grouped together, so as to protect the fallen members of the group, who had been knocked unconscious by the guards. One half-elf was parrying attacks with two swords at once, while the other half-elf did battle with the captain of the group. An elf hung in the shadows, occasionally blasting an unwary guard with energy that formed at his hand. A human with orcish colored skin was beating some guards with a light mace, and they couldn’t seem to touch him. The captain was also having trouble with the half-elf, who seemed to dodge the captain’s blows effortlessly and then slash the captain. Oscar was really interested in the half-elf, the elf and the human. He would have to face them himself.

The battle was long and bloody, but in the end, every last guard was glass-eyed on the floor, and the floor had a new paint job. “How gross.” Said Ivellios as the group healed the wounded and advanced inexorably throughout the mansion, until they came across the skeleton of a certain halfling assassin. The flesh had been thoroughly stripped from Garret’s bones and his organs, or what was left of them, were strewn across the floor. The clerics weren’t at ease either. Something was wrong. Then Mr. Steal noticed a huge bag of coins inside the bones and, true to his name, walked over to pick them up. When he picked up the bag, the entire floor gave way beneath the group, and the room’s contents were spilled into the darkness below.

Oscar had noticed the rogue before, and knew that rogues were attracted to wealth. It was a wise idea to have the room booby trapped, and this was going to be great, because this group would make an excellent addition to the legions of slaves he had working on the Portal to the Abyss. But there was something disturbing about the elf and half-elf with the scar. They wore the insignia of his personal slave. He finally came to the conclusion that they were his slave’s servants, and disappeared down the stairs to deal with the interlopers.

Martin awoke with a groan. That was one hell of a fall the group had gone down. As the rest of the group awoke, they quickly began preparing for the worst. For good measure, Martin gave Mr. Steal a swift kick, which Linda scolded. They had followed a tunnel Mr. Steal had ‘found’, even though Ivellios pointed it out first. They followed the tunnel for five minutes, and then found a huge open space, with hundreds of slaves working on something large and the parts they tried to put together began to rotate. But there were many parts to piece together, and if put together incorrectly, the pieces would electrocute the person. “Oh…my…God….” Breathed Tonga, Tsunarus, and Linda in unison. Even Nanashi and Austin, the most emotionless people in the group, were shocked by this act of cruelty. “Greetings,” said someone behind them, and they whirled around to meet Oscar and his slave, Aramil Amakiir. “Dad,” muttered Ivellios wistfully.
“You know too much, now. For this, you shall become my slaves,” said Oscar. And he attacked the group so quickly that all but one fell to the floor, unconscious. Only Martin was still up, but his wounds forced him to the ground, and he scrambled to avoid the double-bladed sword that Oscar swung wildly. But Oscar quickly pinned Martin to the wall. Martin looked around frantically, saw no means of escape, and cried out at Aramil: “Father! Help me!” Aramil slowly walked up behind the man, who was about to kill his son, and said “my lord.” Oscar whirled around to see Aramil, who had placed his hand in front of Oscar’s scarred and old face, and Aramil cast Contagion. All of a sudden Oscar gripped his head, screaming “My mind! It’s on fire!” and rolled on the ground. Aramil helped up the clerics, who healed everyone else. Oscar began to laugh. “You fools.” He said weakly. “By killing me, you’ve unleashed a demon.” With that, Oscar’s body blew apart, revealing the demon.

The demon was truly hideous. It’s head was that of a dog’s, only with horns. It had four arms, two of which were tipped by large pincers, and its giant body was colored iridescent. Its eyes glittered with a cold intelligence and cunning. It laughed cruelly at the group. The group, with the addition of Aramil, charged the demon, which attacked as well. The demon used it’s four arms to the maximum potential, engaging multiple foes at once, and it used it’s spell-like abilities as well. The group, nevertheless, attacked the great beast, and Kerana managed to curse it with the Hexblade’s curse. The demon continued it’s assault, but finally, Nanashi managed to finally kill the beast. This surprised everybody, because he was usually the first person down in combat. At the exact moment the beast died, the Portal was complete, and a dretch entered the room, which was dealt with. But more demons began to pour out of the Portal. “We’ve got to close the Portal! But how?” asked Tonga. Terrsak and Ivellios quickly blasted the Portal with Fireball and Scorching Ray, which did some damage, and the clerics combined their powers to create Great Smite. This blasted the Portal to pieces, and the magic portal closed on the head of a Balor, effectively beheading the demon. There were silver tethers streamed out all over the ground, and when the group tugged, the carcasses of demons came flying at them. “Hmmm, the demons seemed to have died the minute the portal dissipated,” thought Billy B. Bob. “Good luck for us then, eh, pal?” Martin said and slapped him on the back. With the Portal destroyed, and the town safe, the group continued east to the mountains, where a great war was being fought between orcs and humans.


End