Moil

The city hung in space, hovering over a eye-searing nothingness. Cursed, it had been torn from its world and left here, in frigid darkness. And they had come, in pursuit of an ancient evil. The City That Waits, Vision had proclaimed, the most literal translation of the runes carved on the archway. Moil. None of them knew if it had been pronounced that way for this city was dead. If not for a blessing placed on all of them by Maynard, the very air of this place would have frozen their lungs.

There was no sun here, no moon, no stars. Only the faintest light emanated from above - a grayish twilight from which bright motes like falling stars rained down. From that, Callana could see the city or what remained of it anyway. Towers connected by flying bridges, rising from a chill fog.

Grimly they moved into the towers. All the places that had been inhabited by Acererak were deathtraps - filled with fiendish ways to main or kill any who would seek him out. These six remained of those who sought to finally put an end to the malice of Acererak and his followers. Vision. The rail thin archmage who seemed obsessed with keeping his face out of view and every bit as secretive regarding, well, everything. Callana didn't know if he could be trusted - at times she felt like an ally of convenience for him and whatever his actual agenda was. But Vision's power could not be denied and he had saved their lives many times over.

Maynard. Sun-priest. Tall, quiet, steady. He was the calm center the group rallied around. Smarter than people around him took him for, Callana wished he'd speak up more but he seemed content to let others lead. Likewise he seemed understated in his powers but his prayers were answered most potently and Callana had seem Maynard raise the dead, heal the most terrible of wounds and stand in combat with rulers of the lower worlds.

Teryon. Cursed. One of the last elves of Oerth, he scarcely resembled his fellows and indeed was an exile with a death sentance from any of his kind. Lost in the Abyss, one of the labyrinthine demon worlds, he had a made a bargain there to survive - and had been horribly transformed as a result. A centaur-like monstrosity with the upper body of an elf and the lower form of a tarantula, even the elf-like portion was pale and bloated. Worse, Callana had spotted what appeared to be vampiric canines.

Many times older than any of them, Teryon's terrible change seemed to concern him little and though he seemed odd company, if anything had become more deadly since his return - spider legs clinging to walls and ceilings, his twin longswords wove a circle of destruction around him as he fought with gleeful energy.

Standing in complete contrast with Al'Zaman. The tall Bak'lun had helped them escape the Hells and was both stalwart and surprisingly good-humored. Callana had gotten to know him during the Battle of Baragu Tovag when he came to support Zuoken's attempt to stop Xan'Yae. They had won that day - banishing Xan'Yae through the portal. And Zuoken's guise as Xan'Yae's champion had been stripped away by his rebellion against the Goddess, revealing him to be Cade, a once-mortal who agreed to serve the Mistress of Perfection. For a time. Paladin and follower of Pelor the Sun God, Al'Zaman followed anywhere Maynard would lead.

And then there was Nomad. Helm closed, Callana could barely remember his face. After decades turned into a stone masthead aboard a demon ship, the ordeal seemed to have stripped away any personality from the warrior and he rarely spoke. That said, he fought with mechanical efficiency and held a singular honor as Slayer of Iuz.

Callana herself was a High Bard, trained in the druidic lineage of the Dan'herin peoples of the north, carrier of the history of her clans and tutored by the very best in the arts and martial skills. Very little of which offered any comfort in this place, so far removed from lands of light and warmth.

***

And now they stood and watched as the black tower rose up from the fog. Originally this obvious center plaza of the city stood empty - half a dozen of the arched bridges had let to it, only to reveal a blank platform. However, the other bridges led to towers in what they now realized was the Noble Quarter. A faint sphere could now be discerned, surrounding the towers and the crumbling rock they rested upon. Whatever magic this represented maintained this last chunk of the city hovering in space - and the frigid atmosphere within that was painful, but breathable.

And though the city was dead, it was not quiet. The inhabitants had been cursed to a frigid unlife, and sought their warmth to ease their unending suffering. Whoever or whatever they had been, they weren't human, and had attacked with increasing numbers and cunning until finally they had all been destroyed. The wounds of their icy claws numbed and killed flesh and though they had been vanquished, it took a toll on the heroes as the unchanging hours stretched on.

Finally, in a water-filled tower, they had found a key - after nearly perishing to the dragonic guardian. Descending down into the salt waters of the inverted tower, it had banished their protections, leaving them in complete darkness, with no ability to breath or withstand the freezing cold water. This well should have ended them. But again they survived - Vision somehow not suffocating, managed to create a breathable bubble around their bodies and light to guide their way to the air-filled alcove of the dragon.

The bronze key from the treasure trove had led them to a previously sealed tower, formerly controlled by the Warrior Guild, obviously one of the great powers of this former city. Within, they encountered the animated if not still living, Lord Warrior. The reptilian humanoid fought with terrible vitality but fell nonetheless and from him a brass key was recovered.

Returning to that center plaza, a keyhole was found set into one of the stones and after turning the brass key within, a tower of jagged black stone rose with a terrible grating sound. Only once before had Callana seen something resembling this - in the depths of that ancient temple of Tharizdun. Maynard turned, looking at her. He recognized it too.

This was a terrifying omen. Tharizdun was only known from pre-human myths but was known as He of Eternal Darkness, a malign entity awakened by the creation of the worlds and who arose to destroy them and return all to Darkness. The gods had united to fight Tharizdun and though they appear to have won, mostly their presence had been removed from the worlds of mortals and in the aftermath of this great battle, spawn of this great darkness began to plague mortals evermore.

That any being would seek to rouse this Great Darkness was unthinkable. And to stop this, Callana and her companions had traveled from the Great Swamp to the frigid Cold Marshes and now to this tower of black ice. The only opening a black doorway with steps of black stone descending within.