The party went to rescue Mortimer. Entered some caves. Fought some monsters, then fought more monsters right away.
Rocks didn’t fall, but everyone died anyway. TPK. Nothing more to write. No one left to write it.
The creatures hovered near the cave mouth, and were twisted and malformed. They attacked despite the caution that the party felt they might be the goblins once friendly in this region. As the party rested to gather strength and search the bodies, a voice began to taunt them from within the cave. It questioned Rangrim’s honesty, heritage, and story regarding his exile from the Dwarven people. I lit my newly gifted sword, and ignored the threats from within. I was nervous to be underway. The voice unnerved me, and the shadow at the cave’s entrance sent a chill down my spine. My fear tripled as we began to walk in. Why am I so afraid? I have been through so much and nothing I have seen thus far should have done this. As if sensing my fear, my blade dimmed perceptably. Curse this! I will continue, nothing has stopped us and nothing will stop us. More debased creatures charged from the dark recesses. The voice revealed itself as some sort of dwarf, though none I had ever seen. Clearly as evil as the devils from before, he hurled spells and insults at the group in equal measure. He was joined by a warrior devil in blackened armor, wreathed in flames. These foes were new, and were difficult to dispatch. But they were dispatched. As the party gathered to once again catch breath, more foes revealed themselves. Two more of the devilish soldiers and a powerful wizard of the Horned Ones. My wits may have deceived me, but could this possibly be Asteroth? His twin? His flames struck unerringly, and fire engulfed the room. The heat climbed to painful levels. Our group began to falter. We were outclassed. We began to withdraw. The mage laughed. He was relentless. I felt the flames consume me. I fell. Dispair filled me. My death means nothing, though I knew that we had failed, and I had failed my friends. I hope that they do not regret our path. It is unfortunate. The Beasts may prevail. I only hope that others will take up this fight in our stead. Father, I am coming…..
Ginni threw another spell up against the tiefling, calling to her friends to get out of the caverns. They just weren’t fast enough, exhausted and drained from the wave of monsters that had previously overwhelmed them. If only they could flee!
Rangrim fell first. Rhio was staggering.
Ginni had already called on the power from her staff to heal Rhio. Her cheeks burning with shame, she whispered a dark name, drawing forth black, healing fire to restore him again.
Asmodeus. Save us. I’ve bargained my soul for this. It must be enough!
Ginni stayed in the fight to the bitter end, lashing with her spells and staff, trying desperately to give them a break, a chance to escape away. She might be able to— with just a moment’s break—
As Ginni’s legs gave out beneath her, her eyes met Malidar’s— my king!— before they went dark.
NO! Fury at the demon-king she’d bound her soul to tore through her. I sold myself to save him!
And it didn’t matter. She’d failed Malidar as surely as she’d failed herself, and now she was both damned and defeated.
An oily laugh rippled through her mind as she slid in her own blood, gasping her last breaths. No, she repeated, still denying the harsh truth. She’d made the deal in exchange for power to save them. And then the devil himself had made sure it wouldn’t be enough.
I hate you, she whispered, but she couldn’t say who she hated more. Asmodeus for betraying her— and couldn’t she have expected exactly this, when she’d made the deal? Or herself, for being so weak.
The flames of the tiefling’s spells consumed her as the flames of Hell opened to receive her.
Player note: I’ve opened Ginni’s Player Secrets on her character page, so you can see what’s really been going on behind her laughing smile and flirting eyes.
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