From the far corner, beyond one of the staircases, a human, though human no longer, lumbered forwards towards Tradden.

As it came it pulled its sword from its scabbard, and cleaved down on the young fighter.

Tradden tried to roll to one side, but hemmed in by Kireth and the stone plinth behind him, he could not move out of the way, and the steel of the sword crashed down onto his shoulder.

Flames from Kireth’s searing orb licked the back of the warrior, setting its hair alight and starting to char the haft of the spear that protruded from its leg.

It almost seemed oblivious to the flame, though, swinging its reclaimed battleaxe with the grace of a well-trained warrior. The axe glanced off Khalin’s shield as the warlord took up a defensive stance, the dwarf’s arm draped with the bloodied rags lest he drop them.

There were two quick strikes, testing the defences and clanging loudly in the chamber, before the warrior swung the battleaxe in from the side.

The axe crunched into Khalin’s side, driving the wind from the dwarf’s sails.

Almost falling down the short steps near the statue in the northwestern corner, another of the humans approached the group. This time it zeroed in on the rogue, brandishing a sword that had already been drawn.

Even as Zero fumbled and tried to raise his crossbow the thing closed and slashed out with its sword.

It may have looked like a fumble, but Zero cleverly had anticipated the thing’s move, and sidestepped before the blade could cut across his flesh.

The shot was a bullseye, striking right between the statue’s eyes. Unfortunately for the rogue it hadn’t been his intended target, and his embarrased look as the bolt skittered away was covered by him darting away to hide behind the stone column.

The hobgoblin, or at least the thing that used to be a hobgoblin, to Khalin’s right flank attempted to reclaim its spear for the floor, but the burning ball of flame from Kireth’s spell seared its arm as it reached down to grab it.

Heedless of the flames and the pain its hand tightened around the shaft and it brought it back around, jabbing out at the warlord whilst Khalin was still reeling from the warrior’s blow.

Snaking in from Kahlin’s side the spear jutted into his ribs, cutting through his armour and drawing a deep cut in his side.

From behind the rogue, the other humans began to slowly lumber forwards. They seemed heavy on their feet, but their intent was clear.

One reached Zero and sliced at the crouched rogue with its shortsword.

It was slow, however, and only resulted in striking the column with its blade.

‘Stay close!’ Beltak cried and immediately began a rhythmic chanting. His symbol began to glow an intense white, starkly outlining the walls and the face above — its dark mouth foreboding as black dripped from its lips and blood still seeped from its eyes.

The light flashed out in a burst around the scribe and the creatures caught within it appeared to writhe for a moment, some almost falling over. Beltak did not appear to be finished, however, continuing his chanting into a rising crescendo.

Another light spewed out of the priest’s symbol, cascading into the throng of creatures and exploding outwards in a scintillating spray.

The spray of light seemed to catch all of the creatures in a single burst, the radiant energy of the glow burning their flesh. One of the creatures fell, not even managing to have moved from its position near the statue, still grasping for a weapon.

More of the creatures swarmed towards Zero, one drawing a sword as it came.

The creature raised its sword and then swept in from the side.

This time the sword managed to hit home, catching the rogue squarely on the elbow, drawing a wince of pain.

The warlord appeared to have gotten his wind back after the initial onslaughts of his foes. He seemed troubled though, as if trying hard to work something out.

On Khalin’s left flank, the giant hobgoblin stared at the dwarf with huge black orbs of eyes. It carried no weapon, and no obvious way to attack other than use brute strength. It seemed to pause in contemplation, the turned its focus on the human warrior to its own left and the haft of the spear sticking out of that abomination’s leg.

It reached out, even as Khalin was battering the warrior with his craghammer, and took a firm hold of the wooden shaft and pulled with all its might. The warrior was thrown off balance and crashed to the stone floor as the spear was ripped from its leg.

The hobgoblin paid it no heed though, spinning the spear until the point was aimed at the dwarf and thrusting it out in one quick jab.

The brief respite as the warrior fell had given time for Khalin to regain his composure, however, and he managed to swing his shield around to deflect the blow.

Even as the human lurched forwards from beside the statue in front of Kireth, the burning fireball next to it caught hold of the human’s clothes, setting the thing alight.

It almost made it down the steps upright, but fell on the last step into a heap, where it smouldered and burned slowly.

As its partner at the other side of the statue burned, the automated human to Kireth’s left made it down the stairs and made a dart at the mage.

It already had its sword drawn and slashed out at the mage’s head.

Whether it was Beltak’s ministrations or Khalin’s shield arm that kept the blow from striking Kireth he could not tell, but the sword skittered past his cheek, missing by only a small margin.

Away from the main throng, to the south of the chamber, the remaining human by the statues left its position and made its way clumsily towards the kneeling and protesting rogue.

It too had a sword in its hands and spared no time in slashing it from side to side in an attempt to cut Zero to ribbons.

Three foes were too many for the rogue, and there was no way he could avoid the blow as it cut across his arm.

Oblivious to Tradden’s challenging cry and the decimation of its allies, the human to Beltak’s left flank shambled in, slicing across the scribe’s flank.

Beltak had little time to react as the sword came close to biting flesh.

It was too little time. Even with Khalin attempting to shield the priest, Beltak wasn’t quick enough to dodge the blow. It didn’t bite through to the skin, but caught his arm, halted by the chain mail, numbing it below the elbow.

Whilst most of the group had been concentrating on the humanoid automatons the giant black abomination at the far end of the chamber had been pulsing gently, spreading out tendrils slowly. It recoiled somewhat at the touch of flame from Kireth’s spell.

It pulsed violently after tasting the mage’s fire and a shockwave burst out of its black amorphous body towards the group.

Those on the front line were left reeling and confused. It didn’t appear as though any of them had been physically hurt, but they looked askance at one another, furrowed brows and dark thoughts behind wide eyes.

As confusion reigned the abomination struck out with its tendrils, snaking around the human warrior and grasping for Kireth’s head.

Three of the dark feelers made contact, coiling around the half-elf’s skull, crushing and further confusing the mage. He felt his limbs drain and legs turn to iron, his movements sluggish and heavy.

Dizzy, the mage glanced from side to side. A human on one, another before him, and a dwarf on the other side. All were too close, drawn in to a tight bunch by the hapless fighter. The dwarf was pressing in, annoying him, preventing him from unleashing his power. He had to push the dwarf away, and jabbed out with his staff, catching the stunted wretch in its midriff.

Although prone on the floor, the warrior was still able to brace itself against the onslaught of the flames, shielding its face with the head of its battleaxe to bear the brunt of the heat.

The fog in Kireth’s mind still remained, despite his training.

Ignoring Tradden’s warcry and histrionics between the two staircases, the human on the right flank simply closed in on the mage whilst Kireth concentrated on sustaining his flames.

With a swift action it thrust its sword at Kireth’s back.

The mage’s senses were dulled and slow and he had no time to avoid the blow.

The black warrior had beaten off the initial assualt of Kireth’s magical fire, but could do nothing about the constant searing heat as it sustained its anger.

Ignoring the scorching flames as best it could the creature struggled to its feet, constantly under Khalin’s pressing attack.

Once stood it had a better opportunity to defend itself and freed up its arms to swing around with the huge battleaxe at the dwarf.

The cut was vicious, opening another bloody wound in the dwarf’s side, but the warlord took it with determination, not showing any fear or reason to retreat.

As the bolt struck down the figure, Zero was already off his haunches and skipping over the stone floor, coming to a halt not too far from where he had started, but with a better view of the melee.

Amidst the throng of the melee, the hobgoblin had dwarf, mage and fighter surrounding it. However, there was something about the fighter that was attracting it, despite the blades that flashed around Tradden in a vicious ring of steel.

The thing took many cuts as it tried to push past the blades, but it as intent on reaching the young fighter and quietening him down. It tried to find a weak spot, or a pause in the movements of the blades before thrusting forwards with its spear tip.

The result was a moment of intense pain for Tradden, the steel tip gouging out some of his flesh above the knee. It could have been worse, though, the creature just could not seem to push the spear onwards without any real force.

Beltak’s head felt woozy. At the edge of the combat, he was unsure of where his allies were. There seemed to be too much movement, to many foes, and he lashed out aimlessly with his mace.

He struck targets, he could feel that, but he was unsure of who he had hit. The figures all around looked the same, so he decided to illuminate those that were his enemy.

Light danced from Beltak’s symbol and radiant fire lit up those around him. He felt free to now concentrate and immolate those that were truly his enemy. With hushed word he raised him arms from the floor and a crackling web of light began to grow around him.

The tendrils of light snaked out, surrounding the priest and allies and foes alike. With protection around him he turned to where he thought Khalin stood, the dwarf’s groans of pain to soon be soothed by the light of Pelor.

As the scribe’s words faded and the warmth of Pelor’s radiance flooded through Khalin’s bones, Beltak turned to his own mind, hoping to flush out the fog.

The radiance that billowed around the priest now help clear his mind and he could see that the main threat was the huge abomination, silently directing the combat.

Warmth flooded into Khalin’s body, though he was unsure of where it came from. It could be a trick, and foul magic might be at play, so he swung out wildly with his craghammer, to and fro.

He felt the weapon crunch into something in his befuddled blindness before another warmth, this time crackling around his legs, surged into his body.

The dwarf glanced round and spied the two hobgoblins behind him, converging on Tradden. One was hefting a spear — ‘that might do, that might do nicely,’ he thought — and lashed out with his hammer at the brute.

The two swift attacks left the creature reeling and gave a moment for Khalin to clear his head.

The fog over his mind lifted and the battlefield became clear once more.

The black-eyed hobgoblin appeared to be between a rock and a hard place. The crackling lattice that covered the floor around it tore at its calves…

…and the steel blades wielded by Tradden trapped it in place, whirling and slicing around its head.

It paid the cuts as little heed as it could, fighting to get inside the barrier of steel and jab with its spear. It paused, feinted, and then struck.

The point struck home, glancing off Tradden’s shoulder, but the energy was not in the thrust, sapped by the enchantment laid upon it by Beltak.

As the melee intensified in the centre of the chamber, at the edge one of the humans moved towards Kireth. It was too close to the mage’s fiery ball, though, and flames leapt onto the creature’s clothes.

They caught fire rapidly, enveloping the once-human in a matter of moments, and the life went out of the thing, the body dropping to the floor.

Basking in the glow of the radiant web at his feet, Tradden felt warmth and energy surge up and into him, refreshing and invigorating.

The lifeless human to Beltak’s left began to raise its sword, but the web of energy surrounding the scribe arced towards the blade.

The light and energy intensified as the creature lurched forwards, stopping it in its tracks and sending convulsions through its body. After a brief pause the body fell to the floor.

The huge abomination at the far end of the chamber pulsed and writhed as its tendrils squirmed through the air. It appeared to be levitating a little from the floor, but this did not stop Kireth’s ball of flame from biting at its extremities.

It continued to pulse as the flames burnt at its black oily flesh, giving off that familiar tobacco scent in waves of air.

The creature appeared to have finally recognised the flame as a threat and, surprisingly graceful, it floated away from the inferno.

It did not go too far, setting itself between Beltak and one of the statues. Its pulsing grew stronger and stronger until it blasted out a cone of energy that made the group’s heads ring.

The blast did not seem to hurt them, but the shock and constant ringing in their ears as if someone were blowing a horn was incredibly distracting. Enemies seemed like foes, and foes like enemies. The crush of the melee was claustrophobic.

As the group reeled, the tendrils snaked out towards an already leaden Kireth, grasping around the mage’s shoulder, squeezing and pulling.

The grasp of the creature was not as tight as Kireth feared, but the trumpeting in his mind began to grow to a crescendo, leaving him dazed and confused, barely able to keep on his feet.

As the hold on the mage was released for the moment, the creature begain to pulse once more. This time it tendrils stretched up towards the roof, where the face and mouth adorned the ceiling. The tobacco smell became almost overpowering to those directly underneath the mouth as two small, black, oily bodies dropped out of the mouth with a squelch and darted through the air towards the far end of the chamber behind the abomination.

The new creatures were small, almost like giant bees, but the size of a bird of prey. They floated in the air, almost menacingly, from the back of the room and awaited their orders.

With his head a mixture of blaring horns and filled with the scent of tobacco, Kireth blindly swung out with his staff in the forlorn hope of pushing his foes back and away. However, he just resulted smashing Khalin on the back of the dwarf’s helm.

The black-eyed warrior had kept its dark orbs transfixed on the melee in front of it, trying to swing its battleaxe in time to find a weakness in Khalin’s defences. However, it failed to sense the heat and fire of Kireth’s flaming sphere by its side, and the flames danced over its shoulder and arm, searing the flesh underneath its armour.

The warrior paid it little heed, feinting and swinging to match Khalin’s shield and hammer defence. It picked its time, thrusting in with an over-arm blow.

The battleaxe pushed aside Khalin’s clumsy effort to parry with his shield, almost knocking off the bloodied rags wrapped around his arm, and crashed into the links of steel protecting the warlord’s chest. It winded the dwarf, though the dwarven steel had surely saved his life.

The bolt whistled past Tradden’s ear and landed squarely in the hobgoblin’s shoulder, spraying the young fighter with beads of blood.

Zero was quick to follow up his strike with a roll to his left, disappearing from sight behind the stone column at the other side of the stairs from the melee.

One of the strange new arrivals, floating a good three or four feet off the floor, began to move. It was graceful, that was sure, its sleek black body shaped like a teardrop cutting through the air. It was not much more than that, no discernable eyes or mouth, just that teardrop shape.

It came around the northwestern statue in a close arc, gathering momentum, before slamming into Beltak.

Beltak attempted to get his shield up, but was too late. The creature crashed into him, knocking the wind out of him and the legs from under him as he crumpled to the floor.

With Kireth pressing from one side, Tradden from another, and the threat of the dwarf from its flank, the hobgoblin was sorely beset. However, the wizard’s magic appeared to be failing him, so the hobgoblin turned towards Tradden — who was continually taunting the creature — only to be greeted by the whirling blades of the young fighter.

Another blade cut into the hobgoblin’s flesh, but the black orbs in its face did not flicker. Instead it pressed forwards with an attack of its own, buoyed by its last strike against the warrior.

The creature drove its spear past Tradden’s defences and into the young fighter’s thigh, twisting it briefly before yanking it back out. It took all of Tradden’s resources not to buckle, as pain seared through his body.

Beltak sucked in air, trying to get his breath back, as he staggered to his feet.

He could barely get out the words to utter the prayer to Pelor to keep the crackling web of radiant energy at his feet in place. However, his devotion to his deity won the day, and he grimaced through the pain as he stated his intent.

With the radiance around him still burning brightly, the scribe wheeled and, unusually for him, swept at the side of the hobgoblin with his mace.

The mace clattered into the hobgoblin, breaking its stride, as Beltak called out to Tradden to stay strong. The young fighter felt warmth spread through his legs, and the wound close to stem the flow of blood.

The other drone, behind the northeastern statue, mirrored its sibling, swiftly arcing around the side of the statue in graceful flight.

It picked up speed around the arc, its teardrop shape cutting through the air with ease, as it crashed into Kireth.

The mage tried to block the creature with his staff, but it was coming too fast, striking the half-elf in the stomach and bowling him over.

Confused and distracted by the growing echoes of horns in his mind, Khalin could barely discern which body before him was foe and which was friend. He struck out with a few jabs of his hammer to see.

A yelp from Beltak was echoed by a stern call from on the floor to his right, as the dwarf realised he had nearly crushed Kireth’s skull. This thought was met with warmth and solace flooding up from the web of radiance at his feet — Khalin wasn’t completely sure if the two were not related.

The cry was met by a cheer from Tradden and even a raised eyebrow from Kireth as a wave of energy and vigour passed across the group.

The fog in the dwarf’s mind did not lift, however, as shadows danced around in his peripheral vision, taunting and distracting him.

Sandwiched between four of the Krakens the hobgoblin automaton had nowhere to hide. Beltak’s energy crackled up its things, searing its host flesh…

…before Tradden’s blades, ever swinging, cut across its flank.

It still managed to raise its large spear, however, plunging it into the midriff of the scribe.

It was a powerful thrust, biting deeply into Beltak’s side, missing his gut by a hair’s breadth as the scribe staggered backwards.

Tradden tried to spring forwards, cutting across the space that the hobgoblin had moved into, hoping to slice off its head before it could hurt Beltak further. However, the dizziness that appeared to be affecting the others strayed his arm, and instead of the hobgoblin, he struck out at his comrade.

As the hobgoblin fell, its spear clattered to the floor in front of Khalin, distracting the dwarf for a moment.

The huge abomination at the far end of the chamber writhed in its oily black mass. It appeared to have been more of an observer so far, lashing out with ropey black tendrils to strike, but not with the purpose or deadly effect of the automatons around the room that it must control.

It remained there, squirming and wriggling within itself, exuding a growing stench, hovering gently just above the ground and looked for its next prey.

It began to pulse as it stretched out its tendrils to the black mouth above the melee, drawing down, as though from behind a curtain, another pair of the teardrop drones.

The drones descended quickly, floating above the cold stone floor to the rear of the chamber, behind Zero’s back.

They stole the group’s attention, which was then quickly snapped back as the abomination began to strike out.

The mage was an easy target, spreadeagled on the floor, and the tendrils lashed against his body, grasping at Kireth’s skull and face, stifling the cries he tried to make.

The tendrils snapped back into the trembling black body, but the creature was not finished there, thrusting out again, this time at the dwarf, trying to envelop the stout warlord.

The black tentacles wrapped around the dwarf’s legs, threatening to tip him over, but the release came swiftly, even if the release in pain did not. Khalin’s legs felt frozen, sluggish, as if his blood were filled with ice.

Kireth let out a howl, not of pain, but of anger, and thrashed out with his staff despite being laid out on the cold stone floor. The staff, however, only connected with the dwarf, cracking against one of his ankles.

Lightning struck at the far side of the abomination, a ball of force exploding outwards with crackling energy. It danced around the warrior, making it convulse and tremble, yet the forks of electricity were simply absorbed by the huge abomination.

Standing and proud, the mage shook off the sluggishness in his legs and the fog in his mind.

The warrior’s convulsions slowly started to fade only to be replaced by the searing heat from Kireth’s ball of flame.

The creature tried its best to ignore the consequences of burning flesh and clothing and raised its battleaxe to strike, turning its attention from the dwarf onto the mage that was causing it pain.

The battleaxe crashed down and would surely have cleaved the mage in two, however, alerted by Kireth’s cry to be somewhere else, Khalin had been watching and dived to his left, shield raised to take some of the blow.

The shield bore the brunt of the strike, yet the power of the blow still pushed down onto the mage. The warlord flashed out with his hammer to prevent the warrior finishing the job with another swing.

The strike from Khalin surely prevented the warrior finishing the job, leaving Kireth reeling, but at least still alive.

Having darted in at Beltak’s flank once, the drone started to back up to strike once more. However, the intracate web of radiant light from Beltak’s spell held it fast.

The thing fizzed and melted before the scribe’s eyes, turning quickly into tar as it slopped onto the floor, exuding a brief stench of stale tobacco.

Weakened as he was, Beltak could see that the others were in no great shape. Trying to keep his concentration he summoned the strength to keep the aura around him glowing.

The web of crackling energy remained where it was as the scribe continued to chant, drawing the web upwards and the light towards Kireth.

And with the light still strong around Beltak’s arms, he reached out and clasped Khalin’s shoulder, offering the dwarf words of encouragement.

Beltak looked drained as the light around him faded, his face pale and beads of sweat trickling down his face.

The drone at Kireth’s flank tried to back away from the flames of the mage’s roiling ball of fire to launch another darting attack.

But the magic was too strong and the drone’s body started to melt away as it fell to the ground.

Even as Beltak’s words reached his ears, Khalin found himself thrashing out, trying to clear a path through non-existant tentacles that stretched out from the black behemoth before him. Without realising what he was doing, he had struck both the mage and the scribe with glancing blows.

One second the writhing black mass had been there for the taking, the next moment it squirmed out of the way. As Khalin overstretched, a black tendril grabbed his hammer, another across his helm, and sent the dwarf spinning.

Disoriented, confused, and with the taste of pipe smoke on his tongue, the dwarf lashed out with his hammer, unaware that he had lost his position in the melee.

Fortunately for the scribe the hammer whistled closely past his shoulder, not making any contact.

The warlord shook his head, clearing the fog a little, aghast at what so nearly happened.

Free from the stifling presence of the dwarf, the hobgoblin turned its attention fully to Tradden

Before it could act, however, the aura of light that still surrounded Beltak tore at its flesh, searing the shell of a body that whatever foul abomination within was controlling, and breaking the hold it had.

With a fizz and stench of tar, the thing dropped to the floor.

Combat was happening thick and fast now, with allies moving, enemies falling, and bright lights and smells filling the room. The stench of tobacco clouded his mind, however, and he couldn’t tell whether it had been Beltak or the hobgoblin that had fallen before him. He prodded out with his sword, just to check.

To the southern part of the chamber, largely ignored, one of the small drones darted left and right, searching for a prey that had simply disappeared into the shadows. With its target lost, it turned its attention to the general melee.

Hurtling across the space it crashed into Kireth’s back.

It caught the mage off-guard and the shove from behind tumbled him over.

Despite the number of enemies thinning, the pulsing black mass at the northern end of the room stood its ground, building its energy.

Despite Tradden slashing at it with sweeping arcs of his blades it seemed largely unconcerned: no major movements or reactions to the young fighter’s pressing attack. Instead it appeared to be biding its time.

After a few moments it did make a move of sorts; stretching some of its tendrils up towards the mouth on the ceiling, calling down another two of the darting, small drones from above.

The drones spiralled down to either side of the melee, diverting the attention of the group before the abomination lashed out quickly and unexpectedly at Tradden.

The tendrils slammed into Tradden’s flank and wrapped around his legs, dulling his senses and filling his limbs with what felt like stone.

As quick as they had struck the tendrils recoiled. The abomination pulsed briefly and a blast of air spread out over the group.

There was no physical buffeting from the blast, but it left Tradden and Khalin reeling, their eyes stinging as if with heavy pipe smoke from an inn, and the acrid taste of stale tobacco in their throat and nostrils.

With a brief thrust of his staff the black hornet was sent hurtling through the air backwards, landing in a crumpled heap where it began to melt onto the stone.

Caught between Kireth’s ball of flame and the swords of Tradden’s whirling stance there appeared to be no escape for the humanoid warrior.

The flames were simply too much — whatever creature lay behind the black eyes could not hold the flesh of its host together against such onslaught and the thing crumpled to the ground.

He grimaced as the bolt simply glanced off its body and skittered towards the other statue, before darting himself back behind the stonework and crouching down.

Oblivious to the wasted ammunition spraying out from the southern portion of the chamber, the drone nearest to Khalin closed in with haste.

It accelerated quicker than expected, aiming for the dwarf’s flank.

The warlord was far too canny for the obvious attack, however, swinging around his shield and deflecting the thing before it could do him any harm.

The chaos had cleared a little around Beltak and for the first time he could remember in the melee he was not surrounded or flanked. It gave him a little breathing space that he so sorely needed.

He kept his concentration, however, uttering the incantations he required to maintain the radiant aura around himself.

As he chanted he slowly backed away from the large abomination, moving towards the stone plinth where Tradden had been.

When he reached the plinth he drew breath — the wounds and bruises were taking their toll, and he could do with some respite.

The moment’s pause lifted his spirits as he rolled his shoulders in anticipation of the final stages of the battle.

As the spear shaft was raised into the air the soiled rags began to unfurl, but saturated with blood they hung limply against the pole. A keen observer might have seen a moment of silver or gold against the crimson stains, but their eyes were drawn back to the dwarf as Khalin uttered a cry of ‘To Arms!’.

The shout filled those surrounding the warlord with renewed hope and their eyes became fixed upon him, leading their charge against the aberrations before them.

Another utterance from the dwarf, this time “Oscanov!” brought them out of their reverie.

Despite the dwarf’s energy he still could not shake those seeds of doubt that clouded his mind.

Raising spears and soiled rags appeared to have no effect on the darting drones around the room. The one behind Khalin moved up, almost silently.

It cut in quickly, trying to bowl the dwarf over with a fast strike.

A swat from the warlord’s hammer was enough to keep the creature at bay.

It was like the thing read his mind however, and the tentacles that were there … weren’t. Flailing at thin air, instead of drawing it one way, the fighter found himself stumbling towards it!

Suddenly the lights went out as a tendril wrapped itself around his head, covering his eyes.

The huge black mass of tendrils oozed its odour of stale tobacco, pulsing slowly, seemingly taunting the group with its ihuman, impassive stance.

Again its tendrils stretched up towards the carving of the face in the ceiling and the black portal that served as a mouth, drawing down more of its brethen into the room.

The thing appeared to be about to strike out at Tradden, but diverted its attack at the last moment as it sensed the standard that Khalin held aloft. A fleeting wave reverberated around its body before it moved in with surprising grace and speed, ignoring the crackling web of radiance that sparked at its mass as it covered the gap.

It flung out a tendril, trying to wrest the pole from Khalin’s off-hand. However, as it touched the soiled rag atop the spear shaft it recoiled, shuddering, before lashing out with other tendrils at the dwarf himself.

Khalin felt the dull sensation of a tightening of tendrils around his legs, leeching the energy and vigour out of his stride, but he managed to remain upright.

Above him the black mouth pulsed, as if about to spew forth a shadowy vomit. Kireth could feel its power, the magic binding it together with a strength that he had never encountered before. It enticed him, the knowledge and skill that must have been used to craft it, and the wonders that it might hide or lead to. The sheer scale of its brute force power, however, was the thing that left him cold.

He could not defeat this with a simple disenchantment; there must be catalysts, focuses for the power, things that could be used to channel the magic. Khalin must have already picked up one — the “standard” the dwarf had called it — and had bound it to his own will. Yet the portal remained. So there must be another. Destroy that, and the portal may yet be defeated.

‘What else was there on that plinth?’ the mage cried, his eyes darting around the companions. They settled on Zero. ‘Oh, no, Zero! Zero, the hand mirror, destroy the mirror!’

At the rear of the group one of the newly-arrived drone gathered its bearings and hurtled towards Beltak.

It hardly gave the scribe any chance to react as it zipped through the air towards the scribe’s rear.

Beltak smelt it at the last second, its advance precluded by the stench of tobacco. Whirling he knocked it away with his shield.

The shot was hopelessly wide, not helped by Zero’s unexepected burst of energy and the following heavy breathing.

At least the mirror was in sight for the rogue; laying on the floor near the pedestal. Conveniently where he had dropped it.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place — Tradden’s whirling blades and Kireth’s boiling sphere — the darting drone tried its best to duck and weave its flight to avoid metal and fire.

Ultimately it was unsuccessful, Tradden forcing the thing back into the heart of the flame, where it boiled into a stinking vapour.

Beltak was stuck between the flailing tendrils of the huge aberration before him, and the drone buffeting him from behind.

Despite his position and his sapping strength, he still managed to maintain his concentration.

Keeping the crackling web of radiant light going, he looked around to see whether it was more prudent to relieve himself of the drone at his back, or to tackle the monstrousity before him.

With a shout to Pelor, and a spin reminiscent of Tradden, he brough his mace down on the flying creature, knocking it down the stairs with a thump, where it lay motionless.

As Zero’s bolt flew past the drone it must have caughts its attention. Its flight path changed, darting in towards the rogue.

The portly human had already switched his focus onto the mirror and didn’t see it barrelling towards him until it was too late.

Before he knew it, the rogue was on his arse, staring up at the mouth above him, laughing at him with that blackened, writhing mouth.

With the standard planted next to him the fog in his mind began to lift, the landscape of battle becoming clear.

The small drones were not faring well against the fires, radiance, and blades that the group had set against them.

This particular one fared no better, timing its flight towards Khalin just as the dwarf was planting the standard and being brushed aside into the heart of the flaming sphere the mage controlled, evaporating in seconds.

The creature lost interest in Tradden as soon as the young fighter was cast away. It appeared to pause for a brief moment, gathering some energy.

But the pause gave chance for Kireth’s flaming sphere to wreak its own havoc; the flames tearing at the black creature’s oily flesh.

The pain did not end there, as Beltak’s carpet of radiant energy joined with the flames to sear at the abomination’s body.

There was a shriek from the creature; perhaps not a vocalised shout or scream, but certainly one that went through all of the minds of the party. The creature was hurt, and it writhed endlessly as it tried to position itself best to face down the flag bearer.

Drawing itself up and facing the dwarf, it pulsed violently, drawing down more of the smaller drones from the ceiling above.

Its focus then turned back to its threat and lashed out for Khalin’s head with its tendrils.

The strike drew a shout of pain from the dwarf, who almost stumbled, keeping himself upright by a last second grasp of the standard’s shaft.

The bolt from Kireth’s staff shot across the short distance to the black creature, knocking it backwards and away from Zero, where it tumbled to the floor and began to melt.

The newcomer to the throng, to the west of the party, oriented itself quickly, seeking out a target amongst the group’s flank. Fearing flying through the flaming area, it darted towards Tradden.

Tradden had only just cleared his head and shaken himself awake, when he found himself buffeted to the floor.

Beltak was starting to falter. He was rapidly running out of positive actions he could take, and even those prayers of light and healing were beginning to thin out.

However, he managed to keep the thin membrane of sparkling radiance around the black abomination. It was not much, but it was better than nothing.

Looking around quickly, he could see that Zero was once again on his feet, but Tradden was not. Weighing up his options, he decided to take a risk.

Beltak was ready for a tendril to snake out and grab him and he was not disappointed.

The strike was vicious; wrapping around Beltak’s leg and slowing him down. He wasn’t going far, though, and managed to stumble onwards until he was stood over the prostrate Tradden.

Tradden looked up at the scribe, blinking, before he was roughly manhandled to his feet.

The young fighter was pushed forwards by the scribe, but landed lightly on his feet, crouching back into the stance of the whirling dervish.

With the standard firmly planted and his enemy before him, Khalin’s resolve was set. He was buoyed by the crackling web of Beltak’s spell; the radiant light dancing round his calves and feeding him the energy he needed.

At the top of the stairs the combat had become a whirl to Tradden. One minute he was down, the next he was back up, his blades circling. Khalin had just struck a mighty blow and that, combined with the warmth of Beltak’s radiant light at his feet put him in a better and clearer mood.

The creature’s semi-solid form pulsed and shivered as the strike from Khalin pushed it to one side and then the frozen blade of Tradden sliced through its black, oily bulk.

It did not appear to give much thought to the fighter skirting past it and flanking it from behind, however, moving back towards the dwarf and the standard planted in the stone floor by his side.

Beltak’s intricate web of radiance danced along its underbelly, searing its skin, castings wisps of tobacco-laden smoke into the air.

To add insult to injury, as the creature steeled itself against the fire and radiance, Tradden’s blades sank into its flesh. The creature was hurt — there was no doubt of that with the cast off remains of slices of black appendage littering the floor — but it seemed to have a plan, and that involved the standard bearer.

Still able to control its powers, it reached out a pair of its remaining tendrils, pulsing quickly, and calling to the yawning black portal above.

Two wisps of black pulled themselves free of the portal, darting down behind Tradden and Kireth.

The creature then concentrated back on the dwarf before it, striking out with a pair of oily tendrils.

Tradden was too quick for the creature, striking out before it could get close to the dwarf.

By a whisker the abomination avoided the attack, Tradden unable to get his blades whirling fully after his leap to the statue, and it pressed the attack on Khalin.

The strike slammed into the dwarf’s legs, almost making him topple over. A gradual numbness began to spread up from his calves and his movements became sluggish.

The bolt flew swiftly and surely to its target, blasting the drone into a spray of oily, black droplets that splashed onto the stony floor.

Kireth had positioned his roiling sphere of flames well, covering the huge abomination as well as those small drones alongside it.

Another one fell to the flames before it could influence the fight.

The glass shattered with a shrill scream, littering the floor with shards of sparkling crystal. As the sound echoed around the chamber it was answered by a low grumble from above as the dark, bulbous portal membrane expanded outwards.

Zero started to point a finger towards the growing mass above, but it was too late. There was an almighty boom and the ceiling seemed to explode.

The blast knocked everyone backwards.

The force sent most tumbling end over end, but Khalin managed to stand his ground, his short, sturdy frame helping him withstand the blast. The others, with the exception of Zero, were thrown roughly to the floor, banging their heads and deafened by the sound of the explosion.

The explosion was even enough to catapult to huge abomination into the base of one of the statues, bouncing off and leaving a trail of tar against the floor as it landed awkwardly on the stone steps. Its fellow drone was not so lucky; launched into the northern wall where it splattered against the stone.

The priest groaned on the floor. He’d been thrown onto the base of the stone steps, nearly breaking his spine.

It was all he could do to stand, trying to shake off the ringing in his ears.

His mind began to clear as he staggered to his feet, his friends strewn around the room in various states of disarray. However, the priest could not hang onto the thread of the prayer he had been uttering all battle, and the crackling web of radiance that had covered the floor below where the portal used to be faded into nothingness.

The creature’s limbs thrashed around as it tumbled across the chamber. It came to rest between Khalin and Tradden, floating upright, extending tendrils up towards where the portal had been.

There was, of course, only stone, and the creature trembled and vibrated with what Tradden could only guess at either worry or rage.

It lashed out at Khalin, more on instinct than any tactical maneouvre, its black tentacles covering the short distance easily.

The tendril slashed across Khalin’s flank, almost sweeping him off his feet.

The thing gained some level of composure; the trembling ceasing and the tendrils starting to unfurl fully.

His shaking didn’t help his aim — the bolt whistling past the black creature and harmlessly behind.

The disappointment of the poor shot did nothing to clear his head, either. He still felt a little confused and dizzy.

As one of the first to pick themselves up off the floor, Beltak had managed to get a fair grip of the situation. Whatever Zero had done it had appeared to have worked. The portal had shut and the black monstrousity before them looked weakened. The abomination had, though, managed to slowly wear down Khalin’s defences and the dwarf looked sorely wounded.

The scribe moved up next to the dwarf offering words of encouragement as he came.

Warmth spread across Khalin’s body as Beltak laid an arm on his shoulder. ‘May the Light of Pelor guide your actions, Khalin,’ the priest intoned.