Animosity III, Da Warpath - Part 9

Aef-Grimnir's Trials: Back Into the Light

Aef-Grimnir turned his back to the fighting pit and made for the exit from the arena. Beyond it was once again the ever-changing passage of crescent tiles and seamlessly meshing cogworks, bathed in a warm golden light... and again acolytes and daemons waiting for him.

The Blue Horrors quickly fell under his axe, the Brimstone Horrors spitefuly immolating themselves to no avail as Aef's ur-gold flared bright. In the maddening confusion of flames and golden gleam, the acolytes stumbled and were left open to the Runefather's counterblows.

In the following chamber, a Pink Horror was riffling through piles of coins and gems. Aef-Grimnir charged forward, but on that treacherous footing his blows were not telling.

Screaming in outrage, the Horror called forth one of his brethern, but their pink flames washed over the Runefather with no effect.

Aef-Grimnir worked himself into a berzerker fury and though he slipped a few times on the clattering gold, soon the Horrors were nothing more than embers. Duardin's greed took over the Runefather and he searched through the coins, finding a glowing pendant that he quickly hung around his neck.

He stepped forward, finding himself once again in the library where he had been pelted by the walking tome. But this time it was a Pink Horror that stood in front of him.

Aef run for it, but scattering books and scrolls all around, the daemon fled screaming through a nearby portal. As it vanished into it, its surface broke into an onslaught of sorcerous flames. The pendant thrummed, and though pain wracked the Runefather he survived the blast.

Then he was once again surrounded by blue and purple fog that resolved in the shapes of acolytes thirsting for his blood.

He killed two, but then he was pushed on the defensive, the thrumming pendant the only thing keeping him alive. As he parried and dodged, a cacophony of shrill voices filled the air as the blighters that had pestered him through the Tower's rooms came at once to taunt him.

Aef exploded once again into ur-gold fueled rage and as the acolytes fell around him, the familiars fled.

As he paused for a moment, letting the ur-gold cool and heal his wounds, the avian homonculus came back bringing two acolytes with it.

The pendant kept protecting the Runefather as he was cornered, then he fought back and managed to grab hold of the homonculus. This time, he just snapped its neck, the creature disappearing in a cloud of ectoplasm.

As he peered through the portal, a beast's musky stink hit his nostrils. Three tzaangors turned their evil eyes on him, the green glowing flask they were fighting over thumbling to the floor. The Runefather backed away, knowing full well he was in no shape to fight all of them at the same time.

That was enough, for only one managed to reach him.

As he dealt with it, the smell of rotten fish mixed with the gors' stink, the screaching of the creature landing them speed.

Unable to draw on his spent ur-gold, Aef-Grimnir was locked in a protracted fight. That drew all the pendant's protective magic, and it was only the Runefather's skill that kept the wild blows of the gors in check.

But still, the Runefather emerged victorious to kick away the accursed fish blurting insults at him.

The Runefather returned to the tzaangors' nest. He picked up the flask they were fighting over and studied it for a moment. Could that be one of the fabled Alarielle's Kisses, potions able to restore a warrior to their full strength in the blink of an eye? But then, three grotlings emerged from a sinkhole and surrounded him.

After the fight with the tzaangors, that seemed like a training exercise, and the Runefather quickly broke through to find himself on the lip of a narrow ledge. He had already been there, he knew for sure, and next would have been the room were he had fallen at the beginning of this maddening journey.

He kept his footing over the ledge despite unnatural winds buffeting him. And as he had expected, the statue of the Lord of Change was waiting for him in the next chamber, an adept leading daemons into some unspeakable ritual. The adept broke off and charged forward while the daemons hurled blue fires at him.

The pain was atrocious and as he warded off the adept's attack, he fumbled for the flask and downed its content. He felt a wellspring of life surging within him. Indeed that was Alarielle's Kiss. Fully restored, he barged over the adept and made it for the closest crystal prism. This time, it gave way under his push and as the beam coming from it hit the statue, it shook. Then the beam continued onto the Horrors and they screamed as if in pain. They retorted with gouts of flames, the screaching bird-headed familiar appearing next to them.

The Runefather took a deep breath as the flames came washing over him and desperetely prayed to Grimnir. The dead god answered, and Aef's runes glared again. He charged and cut the daemons down, the familiar fleeing in fear.

Aef went back to the prism and turned it back towards the statue. As the statue began to vibrate, two lesser portals opened up on the chamber's walls.

"You are not going to turn the other one, Son of Grimnir!" the hissing voice came together with the stink of rotten fish.

"If you don't, daemon, I surely do!" and saying so Aef-Grimnir rushed for the second prism and janked with all his strength until the second beam hit the statue.

In a flash, the statue disappeared, the Gaunt Summoner instantly replacing it.
"Who said I didn't want it? It was the only thing stopping me. Now you're mine!"

Rage filled Aef-Grimnir at the trick and he hefted his axe. It came down in a blazing arc, but as it tore through the Summoner's armour he suddenly felt weak.

Surprised at the duardin's fury, the Gaunt Summoner moved away with incredible speed, syllables of power streaming out of his mouth. Daemonic apparition closed upon Aef-Grimnir.

"Is this the best you have, daemon?" Aef-Grimnir's voice came in a roar of laughter as the phantasms vanished. "I'm not spooked that easily!"
He jumped for the fish-creature.
"You gave speed to the gors, take me to your master!" he growled as he squeezed the squirming thing.

In a blur, he was in front of the Gaunt Summoner, the daemon sorcerer realing back under his blows, tearing rent in the air to bring forth its minions.

But the fury of Grimnir was upon the Runefather. He cut through the closest Horror, stepping forth to corner the Gaunt Summoner and fell it.

He then turned to the remaining daemons and as the last one fell, a third fragment of amulet laid between him and the portal. As he grabbed it, the portal rippled, the narrow ledge behind it turning into walls of stone. Real walls of real stone. Aef-Grimnir stepped forward.

The Thief of Wits rose, patting away the dirt from his robes. As a throng of Horrors materialised and made to pursue the Runefather, it lifted its hand.

"That's enough! Our little charade served its purpose. He is where I want him, and soon his companions will be too".

Animosity III, Da Warpath, Part 8

Aef-Grimnir's Trials: Ambushes on the Metal Path

The cave spun around Aef-Grimnir, as the copper bridge formed in front of him. At its end was a a rippling disc of gold, hovering in the air like a curtain dancing in the breeze. The Runefather shouldered his axe, walked along the bridge and plunged through the liquid gold. For a brief moment, he thought he could see an endless river flowing through the aether to then plunge into a waterfall, its waters changing from the colour of quicksilver to that of gold. As quickly as it had come, the vision disappeared to be replaced by a vista of scattered books and fluttering pages, a Pink Horror capering amidst them.

Aef charged forward, by now so used to the splitting of Horrors that he felled the lesser ones as quickly as they emerged from the bubbling remains of their former selves. And amidst the embers of the last ones was left a silver nugget engraved with eldritch runes.

While he studied it and recognised it for a Luckstone, heavy volumes started to fly in his direction, as the walking tome he had left back in the cave reappeared. He started for the creature, but was halted by a well aimed book hitting him square on the face.

As his vision cleared, the walking tome fled, the room around it shifting and running like tallow to form a roaring maelstrom. He was whirled off his feet and spun into the ceiling with terrible force to then plummet straight into the vortex.

The vison of the waterfall came back, but now he was within it, the golden foam at its end pushing him into a familiar room, the alchemical laboratory he had crossed on the shaded trail to the grotlings' cave. Was he going mad or had the Tower brought him back? Then another Pink Horror came cackling in and all questions were replaced by the joy of combat.

As he felled the last Brimstone Horrors, their flames ignited one of the bubbling pots. As the smoke cleared, he stared onto the eyes of a squeaking skaven. Again, for a brief moment, he wondered whether that was the same assassin he had fought at the crystal junction.

There was no answer, just the clashing of blades as the scurrying figure splitted and reformed at every swing of his axe.

More than once his own flames ignited the volatile fluids bubbling all around, and yet the skaven kept coming at him from all directions. As they were circling each other, Aef reached for the Luckstone and snapped it in two. As he did, he felt its energies guiding his axe to finally cut in twain both forms of the Deathrunner.

He moved quickly to reach the next chamber and found himself wading through the pulsating gullet of a daemonic beast, acids sizzling in every footprint. As he closed up a bend in the fleshy corridor, he found his way barred by a tzaangor.

Even more surprised than the Runefather was, the beastman was slow to react and soon its body was melting in puddle of acid sludge. The vapour rasing from it thickened into a scintillating blue and purple fog. It shredded apart as quickly as it had come, but in its wake were left Kairic acolytes who sprang swiftly to the attack.

Their blades fell as they intoned discording syllables of power and from the spilled blood of Aef-Grimnir emerged a Pink Horror.

The Runefather planted his feet and channeled his ur-gold power to knit his wounds, then felled three acolytes.

The others closed upon him while the Pink Horror doused him in blue flames. He dodged the blades and his own fires repulsed the daemonic ones. Then, he felt his mind clouding as the walking tome staggered into the fleshy corridor.

Still, the Runefather managed to kill the acolytes and made for the familiar. As he grabbed it, a blade sunk into his shoulder as the Pink Horror came screaching at him.

His mind now clear, Aef-Grimnir quickly dealt with the duplicating daemon and pushed through the churning corridor, only to find more acolytes and horrors waiting for him in the next chamber.

They stood between two statues, twisted archetypes of warrior and wizard. For all its strangeness, some hint of nobility still clung to the warrior statue, and beneath its approving gaze Aef-Grimnir felt empowered and quickly cut them down.

Then, with a great shriek, a clutch of scuttlings sprang an ambush on him. Vile nets of sticky strands splattered down from above as the grots burst from hiding.

As Aef-Grimnir slaughtered the grotlings, he still felt the gaze of the warrior statue upon him, bringing whispered secrets about the skills and rituals of the Tower's denizens.

Bolstered by that revelation, the Runefather stepped into the next chamber. Blades spun and twisted on every side as a pair of sorcerous adepts duelled atop rotating columns of metal while another amulet fragment hung in the air between them. Cultists on the edge of the arena bellowed encouragement to the combatants, but their eyes turned to Aef-Grimnir.

In a heat blur as his ur-gold blazed, Aef-Grimnir leapt out of the fighting pit, the spinning blades grazing his shoulders but not slowing him. Three acolytes fell in quick succession, while the remaining ones started to intone their dread invocations.

The Runefather parried a blow aimed at his neck and with his reposte he intoned a counter-word left there by the warrior statue. The build up of magical energies heralding the coming of daemons fizzled out as the acolyte fell to the ground.

Shocked by the duardin knowledge, the remaining adept fumbled, missing his trust. Then Aef's axe came down and with it did the amulet fragment, coming to rest in the splattered blood.

"M'lady?" the voices of the Chamonite seacaptain and his first mate startled Laelanyel back from her fugue. Again she had seen Aef-Grimnir, this time triumphant and increadibly close, yet still kept away by sorcerous barriers she could not breach. It had happen many times, once a vision of the Runefather staring at an elderly aelf on a throne of light, once of him falling through a golden waterfall. They had taken her here, to the Chamon shore of the Ur-River and she knew where they were pointing her to. It was on the mouth of every sellsword.
"Yes, gentlemen", the Mistweaver Saih recovered her composure. "Passage for me and my people through the Catarhactes, heading for Iscarion. We pay in gold." At these words, the Fyreslayer at her side tossed a heavy satchel to the first mate.
"Aye, M'lady! We sail at dawn".

The Thief of Wits split consciousness rejoined within his chamber. Everything was nearly in place, but he could indulge himself one more time playing with Aef-Grimnir.