Serci pulled the his cloak tight over his head, tucking his long blonde hair into the hood and securing the hood snug around his neck. He parted the curtain inside the barracks and walked out into the brutal heat of the desert. The sun shined hard, pouring down light at every orifice of the outpost. The heat surrounded and clung to everybody as much as the sand that was picked up during the winds. Striding forward to the direction of the barrier his cape flew heroically behind him. His white and grey robes, freshly washed, glimmered in the shinning sun. More than ever he felt like the paladin he strived to be as a child. Fear no longer slowed him, unfamiliarity no longer unnerved him. His sights was set on the horizon towards the pyramid with a fixed gaze. His pace was graceful as he glided across the sand with determination and strength. The friends he met, and the fighters he lived with now filled him with a new strength he was unfamiliar with. Protection. It was something he had trouble putting to words, but thinking about it inspired him. If he was to die today, It would be for his friends and comrades. It would be for the desert and its serene beauty. It would be for Angela to raise her children in a land with out the dead living. It would be for Rosemary, so no harm would fall to her. If he was going to lose his life today, it wouldn't be taken from him easily.

He had said his good byes to everyone. Most were short, not to worry them or let the ones that cared for him know he was going alone. He felt shame as he never told Angela he was going alone. If he was coming back, she would probably scold him. He made the decision when the wails of the damned were too loud for him sleep. He half expected to be not returning. It was a night he will never forget. He had  left the barracks for a drink to help him sleep. It was very late, or very early, depending on your perspective.That night the stars shined so bright above the desert. Far away from the cities, the only noise were wails and howling wind. The bottle of wine was emptied quick as he enjoyed the solitude under deep black sky. And for the first time he felt that the air was cool against his skin. It was the night he decided to die. He couldn't ask any one else to do the same.

His plan was to slay as mummies as he can before he succumbs to the army of the Lich King. He would start in the city, and work his way towards the High Priest. His ultimate goal was to carve a path for the heros to slay the king. Without having to waste resources and energy, the heros will have an upper hand in the battle. This was his sacrifice. If he had thought about this before, the very thought would've made shake. But his time in the desert matured Serci. Dying no longer scared Serci. The drive to save the land and protecting his friends deterred the basic instinct to fear death. This was what it meant to be the Divine Artificer and these were the rules of the game Angela had spoke of. His face mirrored his determination, as his eyes were locked onto the horizon ahead. As he reached the end of the barrier, he reached into his pocket and pulled a crumpled piece of paper. It was the message of health that the clergy had attached to his bottles of wine. If you have time to fantasize a beautiful end, live beautifully till the end. He wasn't sure what it meant yet, but he was sure he would find out in his last moments.

Serci crossed the barrier, and looked back at the camp. Replaying his time in the desert one last time before he would have to focus. It was embarrassing to admit but he would've liked to know Rosemary a little more. Blushing, Serci shook it off. There were many things he would've liked to of done as well, but he was satisfied with this. He would've liked to thank Angela for her kindness but wished to not worry her. He would've liked to meet her husband and learn more about magic. Most of all, he wished he could search for Serena but she was in safe hands with Angela's clergy. Smiling on the outpost he softly kissed his the tip of his fingers and cast his hand over the outpost and continued his trek towards the city. His pace was not slowed as he climbed dunes and braced gusts of wind. The wind even supplied a soft breeze from time to time when it blew. Traversing the sand with every dune he was closer and closer to the beginning of city as debris and ruble littered the area, carried by the wind.

As the city structures grew larger Serci stuck to the shadows for shade in cover. Slight moans rang through out city as the mummies were agitated about something. Sand blanketed the city reducing his visibility greatly. Taking a break for the wind to die down and the sand to settle, Serci drank from his canteen, washing the sand from his mouth and wiping the dirt off of his face. Sweat covered his arms and mixed with the sand plastering it to his skin. Eventually, Serci sat down in the sand against a towering structure with hood pulled tight over face, bent down between his knees to cover his eyes from the raging storm he was caught in. He was buffeted on all directions as the wind tossed and turned, violent at his trespassing on the city. He listened to his surroundings trying to block the screaming wind and pinpoint any groans from the mummies. He passed the time by focusing on Rosemary stunning beauty as it filled with strength.

As the wind died down, sound eventually returned to his ears. Nothing much could be heard other than the groans of the dead that have overstayed their time in the land of the living. Serci lifted his self up and walked out into the sunlight, with the wind now motionless most of the sand sat still allowing him ample sight. Not to far away, between the building shambled a pack of three mummies. Serci called out to lifeless monsters and they responded by changing their path to Serci. Checking his surroundings, he was in the clear other than three heading for him at less than average pace. He took his stance, stepping back with right leg his left arm crossed his body to the hilt of his enchanted sword. His fingers found familiarity in the position as they wrapped around the hilt and slowly unsheathed the sword from its resting place.

"Come at me, you rotting corpses. I am ready." He whispered confidently. His left leg slid over to his right, shoulder length apart, squaring his shoulders to the mummies. He focused on the blade and imagined heating up. He closed his eyes and pictured the blade glowing red as the metal was hot to the touch. He opened his eyes and swung horizontally, the blade sliced in the air, leaving a trail of small flames. It wasn't much, just a simple trick to create space between multiple opponents. The mummies reeled back and Serci dashed through dispersing flames. His sword met with the mummy as he slid it into the chest. As he pulled back he shield slammed a mummy that had found its way to close to Serci. He pivoted on his front foot and sliced at the mummy, its cloth caked with dried blood and dirt. Retreating with his front, he waved the blade upward and brought it down, striking the mummy on its head as it leaked some kind of brown liquid down onto his sword. With a kick, he launched mummy off his sword and slid his foot across the sand to square his self up with the final mummy and shield bashed the mummy onto its back. He tossed his sword and and caught it upside down and trusted into the mummy's chest, releasing a drawn out breath. As he pulled back, he sliced the middle of the air, clearing off the liquid that was on his sword.

Delighted by his skills, he nodded and continued down the city. No doubt the commotion would have excited any of the denizens near by. He stayed alert, casting looks above in case of an ambush from a structure above. The wind was beginning to pick up again as sand assaulted Seric's senses. He took shelter inside a small building two floor building. After checking upstairs and declared the house clear, he sat down on the floor, pulling the cloak around his head tighter to brace for the storm. As the wind picked up sand began to fill the sky, darkening the sky intense blue sky. He tugged at the straps around his chest and pulled the canteen to his dry lips and started to swallow a careful amount of water. He felt something biting at his leg as he drank and pulled up the hem to reveal several tiny black insects chewing on the outside of his leg. Beetles. He swatted at his leg trying to smack the insects off his leg. With no avail, he began to try to pick the insects off his leg but the bugs were latched onto his leg and only managed to pull his skin. After a few seconds, the beetles were biting through his skin and starting to tear his flesh.

The sandstorm brewing outside had reached it's apex, with the wind howling and sand filling every area it could. His shelter offered some resistance to the storm but every now and then sand would get into his eyes, only making the experience to real. The beetles were biting into his his, now drawing blood from various locations. He cursed that this might be his end, but remained calm and thought about solutions to his problem. He thought about stray cats. Stray cats would pick up fleas and ticks that carried diseases, and the most practical treatment was to heat a metal object and apply pressure to the pest and burn the disease filled insect off of the animal. It was no different with Serci. He unsheathed his blade and imagined heat at the tip of the blade. Through the pain, he focused on the sword as best as he could and with in minutes the tip of the sword began to glow with a red aura. He kicked his leg out as far as he could and carefully lowered the blade onto a beetle that popped within seconds of contact with the sword. Feeling positive, he lifted the blade and repositioned  over another beetle. As he lowered the blade he grew weak with exhaustion and missed, burning the skin on his leg. Hissing in pain, he pulled the sword back as his he felt a searing pain shoot through his body. As strong as he was he yelped in pain.

After the burn had faded, he tried again, positioning the blade over a beetle and gently lowering the blade onto it. The beetle popped after hissing for a few seconds. He repeated processes many times with many failed attempts until all the beetles had been successfully burned off. Examining his leg was bad. Several burn marks and deep bites dotted his leg. He cursed his fate, and focused on how he felt when he healed the cat and the lessons he had learned from the healer. He placed his arm over his leg and felt a warm sensation over his leg as his bites closed and the burning pain had subsided but the damage had been done. He would need a professional's help to heal his wounds completely. But he wasn't turning back. He knew what he was getting into. With his leg dealt with, the storm started to die down. He poured the remaining water on his leg to help with moderate pain the burns were doing to his leg. A look outside revealed that the storm had died down mostly, and was safe for travel. Helping his self off the floor, he continued his trek to the pyramid.

His pace was slowed as he reached the foot of the pyramid. His leg brought him great pain, and would surely be his down fall against a stronger opponent. As he reached the giant structure, the buildings faded and a stature of what he assumed was an old god victorious against Xuntar. He learned about Xuntar from books at Angela's temple though he had never met him. The god of Chaos. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out in an attempt to deal the pain. In his focus he failed to hear the noise approaching him.

Arannis’ meeting with death herself had finally broke him from his stagnation. He knew that he could no longer afford to lay low and attempt to profit off of this crisis. He could not rest while this looming threat was at hand. He had assumed that the adventurers carelessly throwing their lives at the pyramid would end the threat, and in the meantime he could reap the benefits his talents allowed him. He was wrong. Arannis now knew this threat was far greater than he had anticipated. He stood in the middle of the outpost, tall before a tent with a simple sign reading “healing services”. He pulled down the sign with haste, it clattered onto the sandy ground below. He quickly began to dismantle the tent. Piece by piece he packed it away, and then walked back out of the gate, into the desert heat. In a way it was a rather ridiculous sight, seeing a man dressed in fine garb as if headed out to court walking out in the desert instead. However, Arannis was not the type to abandon his sense of style. He maintained this style in the adventuring days of his youth, and he would continue to maintain this style if forced out of retirement.

Eyes scanning back and forth across the desert, Arannis reached out with his will, feeling the area for any sign of the beast he had previously conjured into the world. He felt nothing. It must have fallen. Disappointed, Arannis pulled chalk from his pouch and began to inscribe runes upon a rocky patch of desert floor. Thirteen Infernal sigils for the seal between worlds. And then a final rune in the center, the true Name of the demon he would summon. He closed the runic circle and stood back ten feet from it. He spoke a single name in that demonic tongue. The sound was lost to the wind whistling over the flat landscape, but it was enough. The runes glowed a sudden crimson color. The glow intensified until the individual sigils merged into an amorphous whole, and the entire circle became tinged with a red as deep as blood. Finally, a claw burst free from the portal, a creature of black nightmare slowly hauling its way into the material world. It had a large, insectoid body covered in black fur. Sharp talons like a beast with the gnashing jaws of a predatory arthropod. Its nine eyes looked out over the desert and it pulled back its head and roared. The mouth opened to reveal hundreds of razor sharp teeth, and the light of burning flame deep within. Arannis caught himself. Even with the ritual refining the process, this summoning was draining. He slowly approached the beast, and all nine of its pitch black eyes locked with his two green ones. Arannis stared right back and said a short sentence in Infernal. The beast recoiled as if stricken, and prostrated itself before the sorcerer. Arannis approached the beast and climbed aboard its back. A shining black wing case split open, and Arannis almost fell from the creature as crimson wings burst forth. He barely maintained his grip, focusing his magic to increase his strength and dexterity. The demon took to the sky, carrying the sorcerer in the direction of the pyramid.

Arannis ignored the hordes of mummies wandering the desert as they flew. The camp defenders could hold them off, and both he and his mount needed to conserve their energy. He flew closer and closer to the pyramid in the distance, over the walls of the ruined city. However, he spotted something on the ground. He barked an order in demon tongue, and focused his will once more. Concentrating on a spot just adjacent to what he had seen laying near the foot of the pyramid, he vanished from the back of the winged monster. Teleportation was Arannis’ specialty. All forms of instantaneous transmission of material or information through space. Information, objects, people, all were the same in this state. They could be transmitted via a conversion to pure magical energy in order to move at nearly instantaneous speeds to a destination, as Arannis did now, or a pair of linked portals could be opened to instantly move from one end of the link to the other. There were other potential methods, but they tended to be more destructive in nature, and Arannis avoided using them casually.

Arannis appeared among the ruins. Toppled sandstone monuments and collapsed arches filled the ruined city. He could hear, and smell, the presence of the undead all around. Slain mummies from several previous groups of adventurers littered the place, and Arannis advanced, until one of them rose. It seemed that the defenses were not yet truly broken in this place. Arannis shouted to the sky in the demon tongue and his conjured beast circled back in his direction. As mummies rose from the tombs and shambled towards Arannis, he readied a ball of fire in each of his hands, then barked out a new command. The demon flew over the crowd of mummies and opened its gaping jaws wide. A torrent of hellfire burst forth, incinerating a line of the advancing undead. Arannis hurled flames at the few who escaped the demon’s wrath, and managed to turn the most of them. He spun around to see the figure he had spotted from the air, moving ever closer to the pyramid itself. Arannis spat a final order at the demon, which took to the air once more. He then focused his will and vanished once more, closing the final yards to his target in an instant.

Arannis appeared directly behind a tall man limping towards the pyramid. Blood and burns coated the exposed patches of skin, he was clearly quite injured. He held a sword and gazed out over the ruins with blue eyes searching from a rather feminine face. Arannis greeted the man as he slowly approached, “You appear injured. Allow me to help.”

Arannis had expected to end up alone on this task. Having a swordsman between himself and the horde would make things far simpler. However, he would need to choose his words carefully. Now that he approached the man he felt a particular aura radiating from him, the faintest touch of divinity. This man was some kind of crusader, some kind of holy warrior. Arannis doubted he would agree to be painted with a demonic rune, but it needed to happen if Arannis were to unleash the full extent of his abilities. Arannis quickly constructed a half-truth to hopefully get the paladin to agree to the necessary part of his plan.

“And if you would also allow me to inscribe a rune of protection upon your armor, it will make this journey far easier.”

Arannis realized that he was being a tad presumptuous, assuming that this man would accept his help and already referring to the task at hand as a group effort. However, given the man’s current state, Arannis was quite sure that his offer would not be refused. Even so, it was rather risky attempting to begin a partnership on such a half-lie as he was weaving. What he said was technically true. It was a rune of protection he would draw, and it would make this job easier. Arannis simply hoped to circumvent questions about the language the rune was written in, or what it was meant to protect from.

More pressingly, Arannis hoped the man did not notice the demon flying overhead a mere hundred yards away. He walked closer and said, “Name’s Arannis.”

Serci was examining the base of the pyramid. The thousands of years have rendered the structure bleak and torn. Chunks of stone lay around the perimeter, and the smell of rotting funk appalled his nose. Through the pain shooting up and down his leg, he was unable to fully concentrate on his surroundings but could hear commotion coming from behind him. He continued to examine the evil lair a voice came from behind him.

“You appear injured. Allow me to help.”

Serci jumped at the sudden presence behind him. His leg must be holding him back if he allowed someone tail him with out Serci noticing. Fortunately, it seemed the presence intended no harm. He managed to turn around with out too much effort and faced the man. It was strange to see someone so close to Lich Kings lair dressed up in noble clothes rather than armor. Even Serci wore a chain mail shirt under his trade mark white and grey robes. As the man was offering assistance, Serci decided to let his guard down, and undone his hood to let out his long blonde hair. 

“And if you would also allow me to inscribe a rune of protection upon your armor, it will make this journey far easier. Name’s Arannis.”

"Arannis, I have to say your timing is impeccable. Some of the desert beetles attached themselves leg and made dinner of it while in the middle of a sand storm. I managed to burn them off, but you can only focus so much through the chewing…" He paused, reliving the experience. "I managed to close the bite wounds, and numb the pain from the burns slightly but if you are an experienced healer, a proper treatment would be much appreciated." He examined Arranis, his noble clothing and large size made Serci feel comfortable, A lumbering noble his self. "You're nobility, yes? What house are from? I'm from the late Von Apprecios, but I've traded my nobility for service to Goddess Angela. You wouldn't happen to have water on you. All I have is some wine, which I am more than glad to share. A house wine from the Angela, Goddess of Life and Earth." He offered the canteen, and rolled up his leg to show the man the damage. "Unfortunately, Im not wearing proper armor. I prefer agility rather than bulky armor that slows performance. Although this rune of protection does sound appealing. If you want to try writing over chain mail, you may try." He paused looking up to the pyramid. "Though, I have to say, It's odd seeing someone this close to the pyramid alone. Is your party not to far behind you?"

He walked up to Arannis and offered out his hand. "Serci, it's a sight for sore eyes to have someone of the magical arts on my side."

Arannis shook Serci’s hand as he whispered a single word.

“Heal.”

The magic gently flowed through the connection and got to work patching up the burns and bites on the paladin’s body. Arannis released the handshake and pulled open his pack, he found an unopened waterskin and passed it to the man.

“I am not a member of one of the houses, no. I am a researcher of the arcane. Portals and transportation are my specialties, not healing, but I do dabble. Wounds like these,” Arannis gestured to the rapidly closing bites, “Are simple enough that I can patch them with ease, but do be careful not to lose a limb. There won’t be much I can do about that.”

Arannis felt his power strain further with the healing magics. The bites were not overly extensive, but as he had said healing was not his forte. Arannis ensured to keep a close monitor of just how much he had taxed himself. He would take things easy for a bit, reserve his strength for when it was needed.

“I did not travel here with a party,” Arannis said, “I brought only my magics with me.” A technical truth, if Arannis’ conjured help could be considered ‘his magics’. “Finding you was fortunate, an extra sword will be helpful.”

After the healing, Arannis walked around behind the man and drew his dagger. Out of sight of the paladin’s gaze, he pricked his own finger and began to draw the rune on his back. The blood formed yet another demonic rune, the best defense Arannis could provide for the man against Arannis’ plan to surpass the guardians of the pyramid.

With the paladin successfully protected should anything go wrong, Arannis reached a hand out over the ruins and let forth a small spark of will. As he did, he concentrated on the Name of the demon he had summoned. A horrifying screech filled the air as the creature flew to Arannis at top speed. The sorcerer did not bother to turn to see his companion’s reaction, but he was willing to bet Serci would not be pleased. So be it. The demon landed before the entrance of the pyramid, roaring one final time. The sturdy fur-covered legs slammed hard into the ground, slightly cracking the stone with the weight of the beast. It’s jaws snapped a few times as its nine eyes turned to stare into the darkness of the pyramid. Arannis spoke another word in the grotesque infernal tongue. The demon’s swordlike claws reached out into the darkness and and it shrieked before hurrying through the entryway.

Finally, Arannis turned to Serci and said, “Shall we?”

Serci felt relief at the healing sensation that jolted through his leg, it felt cool against the warm desert air. He felt the searing pain from the burns subdue to comfort and and the bite marks were nothing but a dreaded dream. He thanked Arannis as he passed a leather skin. Serci drank from the bag in great reserve as to not waste Arannis's resources. He felt pressure on his back as his companion traced out a pattern onto his back. With some kind of added protection he now had, He asked out of curiosity, "What kind of power is this rune going to give me, Arannis?"

The man looked up to the sky as summoned forth a black beast of nightmares. At first, Serci thought it was one of Sardon's creatures but dropped his stance one he realized it was taking orders from Arannis. The beast starred at Serci with its nine eyes of hell. A strange kind foam leaked from the creature as it mixed in with its matted fur covered body.  Razor sharp claws swiped at the air as it roared into the temple, no doubt waking the sleeping creatures inside.

He turned to Arannis who gestured towards the temple. "Shall we." Offering Serci take front, behind the beast.

"You must be crazy, Arannis. That creature will be setting off all kinds of traps inside the temple. Stealth really isn't its strong suit." A slightly peeved Serci questioned. "You failed to mention summoning demons as a forte of yours, summoner." His thoughts went to the symbol on his back, now slightly distrusting of the man. "What exactly did you draw on my back, Arannis?" He took a minute to breathe and calm down, before facing him once again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lose my temper. I'm sure you have everything under control, but a beast like that is known to shake a man." He sighed, rubbing the sides of his forehead as he spoke. "When I set out originally, I intended to be not coming back to the outpost. I set out alone with my goal to be slaying as much of the opposition as I can before I succumb to the desert. Now that I have a companion by my side, I believe thinning out the army and returning home is possible." He turned to Arannis. "I have no intention of fighting the Lich King, that will be for another hero, my fate is to take out as many mummies as I can. Perhaps your beast triggering all the traps will be an advantage. If it can survive that is. Why did you set out this far to the pyramid alone, Arannis? What is your goal?"

Arannis delayed answering Serci’s inquiry about the rune until after his conjured help had arrived. Arannis’ assumptions had been correct, and the man seemed quite off put by the demon. Typical. Demons were such misunderstood creatures. Just because a certain subset of them were utilized by forces who frequently clashed with the wills of gods and mortals, and another subset frequently rose to challenge gods and mortals directly, did not remove the utility of lesser beasts such as this one. All it took was some careful control, and precautions.

“The rune I inscribed upon you protects you from the demon,” Arannis finally explained, “Even if my concentration were to waver, or I were to fall, it will not threaten you so long as that rune remains active.”

“Additionally,” Arannis said in response to the man’s other query, “I did mention my specialty in portals. Summoning a demon such as this is a simple process of knowing how to gather its attention, and opening a portal into this world for it to cross through.”

It was too late, Arannis had slipped into his ‘lecture’ voice, as he used to when he used to instruct apprentices on the workings of magic, “It really is very simple magic, and the power requirements are not overly great if you prepare a proper ritual of focus. The only reason this kind of summoning is not more common is because most lack the knowledge of how to control such a beast when it has appeared.”

Arannis’ tones were not dull, rather they were passionate. This was his area of expertise, his life’s work. He knew exactly what he was doing, and was all too eager to showcase his decades of experience. He had always been one of the higher regarded instructors when he used to teach, even with his classes’ high failure rates.

When Serci pointed out that the beast would surely stumble into each and every trap that the evil within had placed, Arannis simply replied, “This creature is immune from poisons and flame, and highly resistant to most other common forms of magical or mundane chaos that these types of ruins typically ward themselves with. It would take holy magics, magics of light and goodness, to turn a beast such as he. I find it doubtful that our enemies have access to such things.” Arannis did not bother saying that if he was wrong with that assumption, they were in far more trouble than he had planned for. He also neglected to mention that this creature’s incredible immunity was why few dared to summon his kind. Without knowledge of the beast’s True Name, Arannis would have had no hope of controlling it, and it could have slaughtered countless hapless adventurers before one showed up with the knowledge necessary to contain it.

Even with its Name, Arannis knew his control over the beast was tenuous. He could protect himself from it with ease, but he was not really directing its actions. Instead Arannis was simply blocking it from noticing some individuals, namely himself and Serci, while allowing it to ravage the rest. He could push it, nudge it in certain directions. Promises of chaos and murder were enough to tempt the beast to go where Arannis wished it to, but that would only go so far if the beast were to, for example, stumble across a group unprepared for it. Arannis sincerely hoped that no other groups of adventurers were in this pyramid. He would likely need to kill Serci to keep the resulting disaster quiet were that the case.

Serci went on about his self-sacrificial plan to charge into the pyramid and cut down line after line of undead, until he himself fell. What a fool the young man was. Such a mentality would be nothing but self-fulfilling prophecy. Fight for the preservation of your own life at all costs. That was Arannis’ philosophy. In his adventuring days, he found that he discovered any number of creative solutions when fighting for his life in high-risk scenarios. If instead he had dedicated himself to some mindless self-sacrificial ideology, he would have met his death head on, and never become the mage he was today. It was a waste of ambition to be self-sacrificial. However, it would make this man trivial to manipulate. He would charge in there, never looking back, and lead Arannis directly to his goal.

“You are truly noble and deserving of the titles and power you bear,” Arannis replied after Serci had finished, “willingness to sacrifice all for the greater good is what makes true heroes, especially in times such as these.” The lies flowed smoothly and easily from his tongue, his decades of manipulating bureaucrats and politicians and priests and adventurers leaving lies to flow from him like water. It was smooth and nearly impossible to detect.

“I myself am here to go beyond simply taking out a handful of these undead. No, this scourge will not stop unless the source is destroyed. If you truly want to make a difference, if you want to make the most of your abilities, then come with me to the core. We will fight to the center of this pyramid, to the source of the undead horde, and at the very least we will leave it with a scar so deep that our successors will be able to shatter it completely.”

Arannis looked the man in the eye and said, “And when my ritual is complete, I will use my magics to free us both from the depths of this place, so that should the evil here still live, we can tell others of what we have witnessed, and possibly return to finish it off.”

Arannis offered his hand, “Are you with me, Sir Serci?”

Despite whatever else could be said about Arannis, he was an old hand at battle speeches. He had been rallying men, dwarves, halflings, elves, kobolds, demons, and all kinds of creatures into battle for years. He had lead forces both on the mortal planes and in the depths of inferno. The sheer confidence that Arannis displayed with his words radiated forth, bringing a new inspiration to those he lead, even if today he was leading an army of two.

Arannis explained all in a passionate manner. Serci even felt embarrassed as he doubted in Arannis and thought him as aloof. After his crash course lesson on the demon, Serci felt no more comfortable working with a demon, but was glad Arannis was controlling the vile black beast. After all, Arannis had said it would take a gods power to defeat it, luckily, Serci's blade was imbued with a fraction of Angela's holy power. If the beast was to go out of control, Serci would end it. As Arannis spoke, lifting Serci's sprites, the plan in his head begin to change. For the first time since he made the decision on that starry night, Serci began to think he would make it back. 

"Do not underestimate the power of the old gods, Arannis. I have to admit with my holy blade and your… pet." He choose the word carefully, still uncomfortable with it. "We can make it to the evil. Even beat it, if we are careful. But we must not try to over do it. If it gets to dangerous, I will cover your escape. I will injure the high priest before I fall, and our efforts will leave a path for a party to deal the final blow." He put a hand to Arannis's shoulder and locked eyes. "You have my blade."

Serci stood towards the entrance of the pyramid as he walked into the blackness of the crypt. The funk that the rotting bodies assaulted his senses as the smell burned his nostrils. With in seconds, his eyes adjusted to the lack of the light, the glow of his sword illuminating a short path in front of him. Rats and scraps of mummies littered the place as they wondered down a strait path. A couple of paces ahead revealed a grisly scene. An adventure like them selves was plastered against the left wall. His posture was off, one his legs was bent in the opposite direction as multiple cuts dotted his stomach. The flesh eating beetles crawled over his body, fresh food for the insects. Serci stopped and whispered a short prayer, holding his hand out to the fallen soul. When his prayer was finished, he spoke in a soft voice. "It's moments like this that I decided to fight alone. I couldn't ask anybody to meet the same fate as him or me on my account of living." He paused to listen his surroundings. The black beast made it hard to focus in on the sounds. "I'm glad you found me limping Arannis. We can stop several more of our comrades from meeting this fate." He continued his pace forward, deeper into the tomb.

They eventually reached a four way intersection thus beginning the labyrinth of nightmares. "I vote we continue strait," He spoke confidently. "What is your say?"

Serci was clearly still very uncomfortable with Arannis’ summon. However, he did admit he was willing to work with it, and that was enough for Arannis. His goal here was not to evangelize the merits of demonology, he had a mission. Serci did exactly as Arannis had hoped. He pledged himself to lead the Sorcerer to the evil within the temple, and pledged to stand or die to defend the mage. This plan could not have come together more elegantly if Arannis himself were controlling the man. Arannis quite enjoyed working with holy knights such as he.

When they reached the intersection, Serci suggested they continue straight. Arannis agreed with the sentiment, the most likely path to their goal was to move in the direction of the center of the pyramid. However, before he acknowledged his agreement, he said, “Wait a moment,” and got to work.

Arannis pulled his chalk from his satchel. He snapped his wrist in an outward direction and a small gust of wind picked up along the floor. The loose sand on the ground was blown away, leaving only clean sandstone. Arannis bent down and drew a circle about three feet in diameter. The fine white chalk easily glided over the sandstone floor. When the circle was complete, Arannis drew three Sylvan runes in the center.

Arannis stood back and called to mind knowledge of a different plane, one he had traveled to a few times in the past. Not one he had explored as extensively as Inferno, but one with creatures useful to his current goal. He held a hand out over the circle and focused his will. He spoke a brief sentence in the language of the Fey, and the circle began to shine with an azure light. After a few moments, a green portal opened in the floor where the circle had been. Catlike fey began to crawl out from the portal, until three of them stood at its edges. Arannis spoke one more word and the portal closed. He then barked an order at each of the feline fairies, and the cats scattered. One took the left fork, the other the right, and the last forward. The entire process had taken about a minute.

The cat that ran forward tensed for a fraction of a second before leaping backwards. Just as it did, a section of the ceiling slammed down onto the floor with a resounding crash of thunder. As soon as the trap was triggered, Arannis hissed a new order in the demonic language, and his conjured demon charged the stone. It opened its mouth and unleashed a torrent of hellfire. The sandstone started to glow and liquefy under the searing heat, and the demon’s fireproof claws tore at the glassy slag. It ripped the massive block of molten stone to lumps of cooling, twisted glass, and then stood aside.

Meanwhile, a feline scream was heard from the left fork. Arannis’ conjured fairy quickly darted back into the area, its fur singed and still smoldering in one place. Arannis whispered the word, “heal”, and felt a tiny drop of power empty itself from him as the fire extinguished and the burns scabbed over. Even the smell of burnt bark subsided. Finally, the third fairy returned from the right fork, unharmed. Arannis looked into its eyes, staring intently. After breaking the stare, Arannis turned and finally spoke to Serci.

“The right fork leads to more undead, my fey was unseen in its scouting. The left looks like it may lead to treasure, but we are not here for that. I agree with you, forward is our best estimate to reach the center." Arannis began walking towards the disarmed trap, gesturing for Serci to follow.

Serci watched as the summoner worked. Interact circles were drawn, and mysterious tongues were spoken. He stood by, and let Arannis does what he does best. 3 Feys were summoned and sent down each path. The path ahead of them lied a collapsing ceiling that would've sealed their doom. The tomb was alive with sound as the ceiling caved in in front of them, and a Fey screeched from one of the corridors. The savage black beast launched and swiped away the road block ahead of them. It seemed Arannis was quite an ally.

"I am glad you are here, Arannis. You are truly a master of your profession. We shall continue." Serci took lead ahead, as he carefully walked down the path. His sword allowed plenty of light in the somewhat tight walls of the corridors but as the walls spread out, his light thinned. Serci grabbed a near by stick with his right hand and wrapped it mummy cloth. He focused  heat onto the cloth woven stick after a minute it took ablaze. The fire allowed much needed light, at the sacrifice of his shield arm. As they continue forward they walked by five ornate coffins lined up against the wall. As the party walked pass, Serci heard rummaging behind him. Turning around, the doors of the coffins began to slide, shaking sand to the floor as a mummy appeared from each. The beast was caught in the middle and began to tear apart a mummy with its claws. A mummy began to approach it from behind but Serci met it with his blade, sliding the blade all the down the shuffling corpse's back. It let out a moan as it dropped to the floor and he kicked it out the way. He dealt with another mummy in the same way, before the Arannis's beast had taken out the other three.

"If this what the temple has to offer, I believe we have little to worry about. With your tricks, and my blade, getting to the core should be a sinch is this is all they have to throw at us." Spoke Serci, confidingly. "I did expect much more of a fight. The stories around the out post were stuff of nightmares. But we have you and your portals to thank for not sending us down the wrong path.

Going forward, there was a path to the left and a path that led strait. Arannis performed the same procedure he did the first time and they were led down the path that went left with no traps hindering their progress. The pyramid was starting to prove its self underwhelming in the least until the pain in Serci's legs started to act up. Arannis's healing helped for the most part but there must be serious damage done to the inside of his legs if the pain continued through Serci's and Arannis healings. Through clenched teeth he withstood the pain and continued down the path with a slight limp. He said nothing to Arannis as to not bother the mage. Everyone had a limit, and Arannis magic was key to getting through the temple safely. He couldn't be bothered to heal every twenty minutes. Instead, he called upon his own mini lessons on healing and applied his own spell of healing only to numb the pain slightly.

As they continued down the path, wiping sweat from his eyes, he began to be cautious of the how long they were traveling down the corridor. He turned around and spoke to Arannis.

"I'm slightly worried about how long we are traveling this path. I am worried about a trap or a misdirection. Do you mind checking?"

(OOC: Permission granted from Serci to move both characters to speed up thread)

The pair continued through the ancient ruins. Arannis’ summons were able to identify and disarm most traps they encountered, but the sorcerer and the paladin still met some close calls. Jets of flame to be dodged or crumbling floors to teleport away from. A few more squads of roaming undead were dispatched by the pair, and finally they found themselves at the center of the labyrinth.

The air was thick with magic. Arannis could feel the intense resonance of the energies within the final chamber, sealed behind a hieroglyph-coated stone wall. When they had initially found the wall, Arannis tried what he could to force past it, but not even his demon’s strength could break it down. Arannis studied the hieroglyphs as Serci kept watch for further undead. The fairies twitched irritably, sniffing the air. The type of magic that permeated the area clearly was making them uncomfortable. The demon, however, seemed only to be bored. It looked eager for the wall to crumble, eager to begin the slaughter of whatever may lie within.

Reading the glyphs, Arannis finally noticed the pattern. It was a simple protective spell in the end, simple but powerful. It was of an ancient dialect, clearly the creator of these runes was using magics that modern warding was derived from. Arannis knew, however, that this ward had a weakness. It was a logical puzzle thought unsolvable for thousands of years, but a great wizard some three hundred years ago had finally found a flaw with the runic structure, a single exploit. Arannis placed one hand at the base of the runic structure of hieroglyphs, and the other he placed upon the ground. Beneath his hand, the ground began to glow green as he channeled earth magics. He called upon the power of nature and the primordial magics of the druids and fed the runes. His other hand began to bleed, the blood absorbed into the wall, and the runes turned a violent shade of red. A hum of magic started to permeate the area, and suddenly Arannis’ hand broke from the ground. He thrust it skyward and a shimmering gold portal opened. Arannis thrust his hand through. He touched the magics of the heavens, nearly recoiling at the pain, but he forced the currents of luminous energy to bend to his arcane will. The red color of the runes began to pulse as it changed to a deep gold, and then it suddenly flashed violet and the wall shattered with the deafening sound of snapping stone.

Arannis placed his hands on his knees and took a series of deep breaths, and finally looked forward to see what awaited them in the chamber.

It was a massive room of sandstone. The walls were coated with hieroglyphs spelling out the runic patterns of spells and incantations. A massive gem floated in the center of the room, pulsing with arcane powers that radiated an intense aura of evil. The power was that of thousands of souls torn from their bodies and consumed to feed the might of a single evil being. The lich himself appeared before the gem, hovering in place above his army. A horde of undead all turned to face the shattered wall, evil eyes locking onto the sorcerer and the paladin. Each time the gem pulsed, a wave of magic slammed into the ground and more mummies ripped themselves from the earth, clawing their way upwards to join their bretheren. The undead army screamed and began to charge. Arannis’ demon screamed in return and with its scream came a torrent of hellfire. The first line of undead collapsed, writhing on the ground as the hellfire incinerated their very essence. Arannis telepathically messaged Serci, saying, “Distract the lich while I perform the ritual.” Arannis then snapped his eyes at one of the corners of the room and vanished from sight.

Arannis landed, invisible, at the base of one of the massive chains of hieroglyphs. At the entryway, his fairies had run into the room and began to engage the mummies. Each fairie was not capable of doing much damage, but they distracted the mummies while Arannis’ demon and Serci worked to destroy them. Occasionally one would sink its claws into the rotting flesh of a mummy, and hold on for dear life as the undead bucked and twisted. The felines did their best to distract and blind the undead horde, and occasionally leapt upon a weakened member and finished it off, razor claws cutting through putrid sinew and dismembering fallen mummies before they could rise again.

Arannis’ demon attacked in a frenzy, jaws and claws snapping at the horde as the mummies swarmed around it. Its claws cleaved the creatures in two, and its jaws easily crushed the dry bones of the undead. When it could, it would open its mouth and unleash gouts of flame to set whole groups alight. The creature reveled in the chaos and destruction, pleasured sounds accompanying its battle roars.

Arannis himself began to draw his runes along the walls. Invisibly, he painted his own blood in sweeping geometric patterns. He worked quickly, but with absolute focus as he drew each angle, each shape, and each script with the utmost perfection. He only had one chance to do this, and so Arannis would ensure that it was done properly. He made his way around the room, teleporting when needed, painting blood along the walls. Several times, the Lich would cast necrotic energies at Arannis. He shielded and warded and blocked, draining more and more of his power. Once Arannis failed, and the necrotic energies slammed into his leg. Arannis hissed in pain as the cold, dead sensation filled him. Arannis focues his will, focused his magic, but did not heal himself. Instead, he cut off the circulation of lifegiving blood to and from the afflicted limb. He applied a magical tourniquet that blocked the flow of both blood and magic to prevent the spread of the undead curse. Grunting through the pain, Arannis continued to work.

The thin sheen of blood Arannis painted upon the walls was impossible to see with the distracting chaos of the fighting, but Arannis memorized the exact location of each rune he drew. Line after line of the demonic script filled the room as Arannis worked. He began to tire, he was losing a lot of blood. He dared not to cast healing magics, as the undead would home in on him instantly. Arannis was slowly losing power. He continued his script. The sigils of demonic entities filled the room, and his work was slowly completed. He had completely circled the room and made his way back to the start, and a smirk slowly filled his features. He had one last chain of runes to draw. Looking back, one could just barely see the faintly glowing network of runes that Arannis had drawn. Terrible, crooked and dissonant runes that looked fundamentally wrong to the human eye. Demonic scripts using geometry and arithmetic nearly incomprehensible to the human mind. Even Arannis did not claim to understand the intricacies of every rune, but his knowledge was sufficient to utilize them. This ritual would be a conjuration of truly epic proportions. Arannis turned to the location where he was to close the circuit of runes. He smirked as he whispered a name, and drew that name out in demonic script.

“Thank you, Dalanesca,” Arannis whispered as the name was drawn. He then turned to look at the battle and shouted, “Serci! Pray to your goddess! Now!”

With that warning spoken, Arannis once more vanished from the area. He teleported back out of the central chamber, to a corridor they had previously cleared of guardians. Even the short jaunt was sufficient to wind him, and he knelt to catch his breath as the shockwave of a massive explosion hit him. Accompanying the sounds of the blast was the sound of millions of tortured souls, screaming in tandem. It was a sound far darker, more twisted, than even the most terrible of nightmares. It was the sound of eternal torment, and it was that power which Arannis had channeled.

Inside the chamber, Arannis’ runes all turned a deep black, so dark they seemed to consume the light in the room. The sigils became clearly visible, standing out against the light sandstone walls. They suddenly flashed a bright crimson, and the walls were torn open. Beyond was not the labyrinth, nor was it the ruins outside of the pyramid. Instead, the walls were torn asunder to reveal the depths of Inferos. The screams of millions of tortured souls, trapped in eternal torment, filled the chamber. Visions of gruesome and horrific sights were visible through the faintly crimson portal that encircled the room. Demonic entities torturing legions of souls. Death and pain in every conceivable combination being carried out upon the hordes of the damned. The sights and sounds were beyond disturbing, they were maddening to witness. The depth of pain was so intense that even the least empathetic of witnesses was able to feel the pain these damned souls were undergoing. However, these visions of utter cruelty lasted only for a fleeting moment. For after those fractions of seconds, the portal’s true design was fulfilled, and the fires of hell rushed into the mortal world. The room was filled with a torrent of searing hellfire. The heat was intense enough to liquify the very stone into molten slag. The lesser undead were burnt down to less than ash in an instant. The conjured fey were destroyed in the blink of an eye, their feline forms eradicated from existence. Arannis’ demon stood strong, bolstered and energized by the twisted demonic flame. It roared one final time and charged the center of the room.

At the center, the lich still stood. A shimmering golden barrier surrounded the monster, and the moment the demon leapt upon it, jaws gaping, it was stricken down. The demon slid backwards and fell to the ground, the golden magic the lich used enough to leave burn scars in the creatures flesh, burning away its fur to reveal the chitinous armor beneath. The lich pointed its staff at the demon and engaged it.

The gem itself appeared undamaged at first glance, but the pulsing magics were slowed, weakened, and the faintest of hairline cracks had appeared in its surface. Arannis was successful. Arannis watched all of this, invisible, from the shattered wall they had entered through. His eyes scanned the room. He sincerely hoped that his warning had been sufficient, and Serci had survived the ritual. If Serci listened, and his goddess listened in return, even the smallest of holy protections would have been enough to protect the paladin from the raw might of Dalanesca’s wrath. Arannis’ eyes searched for the man as his demon continued to helplessly flail at the lich.