A hot day outside

[Peredhil]

But inside the Cabaret, the air is cool. Peredhil looks happily around. Guido the Bodyguard is talking to Guido the Bartender. Nuncio is standing at Elrond's back, scratching idly at the the blond wig still fixed to his pate.

 

Elder Zool's portrait is talking to Loremaster Jechum in low tones, while Orlan is idly whittling chocolate into bunnies and other shapes - some not so recognizable.

 

Doctor Evil, lolling at a table, smiles faintly everytime he and Elrond's eyes happen to cross. The wheels and cogs of many ideas spin behind his impassive gaze. His confidence is rather disconcerting.

 

As always of late, several of the Zadowns are around, although very subdued at the moment. Peredhil frowns faintly, but can do nothing about the situation.

 

Gwaihir has taken his stack of parchments to a table in the shadowy corner. His Quill is worn to the nub as he works and reworks each line, searching for the perfect meter and word, building poems from his heart. Not for him the quick scribbles such as Elrond enjoys.

 

The faintest glimpse of Yui in the shadows behind Gwaihir, then gone again. The Huntress has many hidden paths through Shadow and shadows, this must be an intersection she uses frequently.

 

All in all, it is a lovely day so far, wondering who will come through the door and spend some time next.

[Zadown]

The air in the middle of the room ripples slightly and a planewalker steps through. The astral matter from between the planes swirls around him as a halo of power as he surveys the room with a look of slight vacant confusion. He is tall and lean, and soon it is apparent that he is the original Zadown, the Broken One whose dreams have run around Terra in various imitations him. His body shows the price of his battles against gods as a map of deep scars and his eyes, cycling through the colors of the rainbow, are wells of both wisdom and madness at the same time.

 

As he notices one of his errant dreams (the Icy Poet, who pales as he sees the planewalker), he makes a lazy gesture and planes twist and knot in the middle of the Poet, both imploding and exploding the archmage in a fraction of a second. The resulting mess is scattered all around the place where the mage used to be.

 

Seeing another dream, a young knight of of the Light, he speaks a word of the void, ceasing the knight's existence so that he never was - a shimmering outline of the young warrior remains hanging in the air for several moments, then it too dissipates.

 

Bored of this, and seeing the rest of the shards scurrying away, fleeing through portals and starting to activate their protective magics, the planewalker shrugs and yawns, and seems to only then notice the other mages around the room.

 

"Greetings, all."

 

He bows to Peredhil as to a master and nods to Jechum.

 

"I believe my ... dreams were members here? I guess I could continue their path on Terra, if you want me to."

 

He clearly loses the train of his thoughts, and an aura of bright colors flares around him, then dissipates - he himself looks transfixed somewhere beyond this plane.

Edited by: Zadown at: 7/24/01 11:42:23 am

[Peredhil]

While Peredhil stares in amazement at the Original Zadown, his son Elrohir is not quite so slow.

 

Quickly casting a Mage Mark - Adept Version, he 'tags' the vanishing Mage.

 

The colors smear and settle, only the mess of the im/ex-ploded magi remain. At a cool glance from Elladan, Guido helps Guildo to clean up the mess.

 

"Well of course we want him here," snorts Elrond, "Why would he think that WE of all people would reject HIM!"

 

Turning to Elrohir, Peredhil continues,

 

"Quick thinking son. This gives me a chance, abet a slim one with a mage so powerful and so tormented, to reach him."

 

Drawing the Sigals and enscribing the Runes, (At which his family group move waaay back (Elrond rarely feels he has to use these, they take it as a sign of caution,)) Peredhil begins to chant.

 

The air moans and begins to scream faintly under the stresses, the colors warp and smear in strobing kaledescopic rainbow fragments. The way is difficult indeed, even for an Adept Master. There are simply some places the Sane should not follow.

 

Reaching as far as he can into the Warp, Peredhil casts his words down the fading trail - the Mage Mark itself is fragmenting under the conditions to which it is exposed.

 

"Lord Zadown! Destroying yourself will not heal! Take it from one who knows Healing! You must Capture each dream and absorb it to regain your Heart and Mind!

 

To Bind Dreams, Define them with the Peeeeennnnn!"

 

Elrond's last words are ripped with his life's breath from his mouth and dragged down the rift through Realities, which implodes suddenly.

 

A large section of the floor, shaped and bound by the Sigals, is gone. In it's place scuttle scorpion nails and knotty frogs. The inanimate and animate have lost their distinction in the exposure to the hideous stresses of the Adept Magic.

 

Peredhil lies crumpled where the spell has left him.

[The Portrait of Zool]

The door opens briefly and closes in a flash, stirring the cool interior of the cabaret with a small whirlwind, which moves between the tables carrying what appears to be a flurry of leaves, but then reveals a short, rotund gnome at it's center, clothed entirely in plants. His robes are assembled from draping broad leaves, while his tall wizard's hat is composed of a small leaf variety of ivy.

 

The gnome quickly floats with the whirlwind toward the fallen half elf, and steps to the floor as the wind politely dissipates at Peredhil's feet. He bends over the mage with concern.

 

"Who are you?" asked Elrohir.

 

"I am the Green Wizard," said the gnome as he cast an enchantment on the hole in the floor. The surreal creatures writhing in the pit began to sink as the flooring seemed to come alive and started to close itself up. "You may call me G. Wiz," he said with a wink. "Do not fear, I am an old friend of your father's."

 

Appearing to actually draw strength now from the animated flooring, he drew himself up and spread his arms, and a serenity fell over the room that left the pages absolutely flush with calm. The older mages were less affected, but could certainly feel it.

 

A pressure seemed to be lifted from the fallen Peredhil, as the unrelenting clash of realities and unrealities was eased, and his body and soul were brought entirely back from the edge of dissolution he had so perilously risked in his attempt to reach Lord Zadown.

 

G. Wiz let his arms slowly fall, as he began to chant, transforming his serenity into a strong Nature's cure. Peredhil began to attain more of his natural color. The gnome continued to chant, not satisfied that all was yet secure.

~Zool~

[Zadown]

The planewalker, who has all this time remained motionless, stirs at the same time as G. Wiz heals Peredhil. The aura around him flares again briefly, and he blinks slowly, returning his attention to this plane. He turns to look at the gnome and Peredhil. Behind him, the vague outlines of a magnificent golden cup and a simple steel sword appear, hanging in the air suspended by magic.

 

The planewalker bows to the Green Wizard - his eyes turn to deep green to match the colors of the one he is speaking to.

 

"I .. apologize this all. I haven't been myself lately .. and parts of me have been themselves, now for so long time I will not even try to recall them."

 

His face speaks with a different tone than his apologetic words - it is a frigid mask of locked fury, and word by word his eyes turn darker and a swirls of red swim in the almost black globes. As he says the last word, his left hand clenches empty air in one convulsive motion and he grimaces.

 

After a momentary pause, during which he composes himself marginally, he turns to look at the recovering Peredhil and his eyes narrow. Injecting his words with venom, he speaks:

 

"M'lord, I do believe I know what I am doing. Erasing the past, killing off the errors, purifying the core of me by eliminating the flaws. I do not seek healing - I seek regaining my name by punishing the false ones. Now, if you'd be so .. kind .. and let me continue, so I can get this done. There are still loose threads around."

 

Before Peredhil has time to protest, he sinks his hand to the floating vision of a sword and draws out the spectral weapon of Inhumatus, the ghost no-dachi, and his eyes flash.

[Yui-chan]

Yui watched from the isolation of the shadows, a concerned frown on her face. A planeswalker was a dangerous, unpredictable addition to the Pen, and she could not help but feel a hint of anger at the being called Zadown as she gazed at Peredhil's crumpled form.

 

Be rational, Yui. Peredhil's condition is not Zadown's fault, but his own for his stubborn attempt to follow a demi-god through the boundaries. Still, she could not shake a sense of ... familiar foreboding when she thought of the mysterious being's raw, reality-warping powers. The Huntress had only to look at the efforts of the bouncer and the guinea pig in one corner of the room to be reminded of what this planeswalker could so callously do.

 

I think this one bears watching... provided he stays within this plane so that I can follow him. I'm unsure of what I could do, but I cannot let him wander around unchecked and cause some harm, intentional or otherwise.

Edited by: Yui Temae at: 7/25/01 6:55:10 pm

[Peredhil]

Peredhil comes back into himself to find he shares his head with a splitting optic migraine.

The brief touch at the end with that which he pursued lingers to haunt him at the edges of his awareness, slipping away when he tries to understand it.

 

Lieing still, he seeks mushin - no mind - and allows the lesson to form in its own way.

 

Finally he gives a convulsive breath and immediately moans at the pain which accompanies it. The realization of his near escape solidifies into understanding.

 

"That is not a mortal being... We are dealing with an elemental force of reality."

 

Peredhil is suddenly very grateful he's still alive to feel pain. In his arrogance that he is wise, he has been reminded that there are still many that exceed his understanding and abilities.

 

Opening his eyes slightly, he is captivated by the dance of dust motes in the light, overwhelmed by the cool texture of the floor against his cheek. All his senses seek and soak in the reality of now, of being...

 

His sons prepare a glass of ice water for when he comes back fully. They've seen him throw himself recklessly into peril too many times to be surprised or worried.

 

Edited by: peredhil31 at: 7/26/01 2:39:01 pm

[Zadown]

Not noticing that his words are lost on the recovering Peredhil, not realizing that he has a sword on his hand, he sends his thoughts along a new path, incited by the idea of killing the dreams. That path leads them into the Hell.

 

The planewalker mutters...

 

"I need some help on this"

 

...and he lets his arms fall down on his sides, limp. His perpentually confused mien focuses, and he looks almost sane for a second. Then, his physical eyes burning in the bright colors of flames, he starts to utter aloud the form of the spell he sees in his mind's eye, rising his hands to do the needed motions.

 

Those who are watching have some time to think in horror what kind of help so powerful a being needs - then, the summoning begins.

 

First words, spoken in the language of the creator gods of old, etch glyphs of warding to the already abused floor. The markings writhe and change, containing enough magic to make them partly alive and to light up the already well-lit room, drawing colorful shapes to the walls and the ceiling. A circle draws itself between the glyphs, and a triangle appears inside the circle. The protective markings are on place, and the planewalker starts to shout the second part of the grand spell, casting his voice through planes, to the Hell he saw in his vision. He invokes a demon with its true name and binds it with his power, calling it forth with loud words in some other forgotten language.

 

A portal springs up in the middle of the triangle, striving to have a form here, turning and twisting, belching hellfire and sulphur. The planewalker continues the calling, shouting over the din, again with the same forgotten speech - a roaring order, a call that cannot be refused.

 

The portal stabilizes. The noise silences itself. The room is calm, as the eye of the hurricane is - ready for the second part of the storm.

[Jakob]

In a blast of hot air, a short, slightly round mage waddles in from the heat. He pulls a dirty scrap of cloth from one of the pockets in his robes and begins wipe some of the sweat from his forhead.

 

"My goodness... It is just plain hot out there."

 

As he continues to dry himself with the already soaked rag his eyes take in the horrific scene unfolding in front of him...

 

"Zadown... what are you doing? Stop this insanity before you destroy yourself. Truly, you can sense that these are merely you own inner demons manifested?"

 

The wizened mage shakes his head...

 

"Come now, my freind. Look deep inside yourself. You will see that my words are true."

 

As he speaks, Jakob searches through his pockets...

 

"Do not make these innocents suffer for your own self torment."

 

He suddenly grins as he finds what he's looking for... Slowly he pulls the object from his pocket...

 

"Look here, Zadown. Look into this mirror..."

 

Jakob holds the ornate hand mirror up towards him...

[Zadown]

The planewalker, diverting his attention to Jakob, speaks a Word of Stasis, which he stole from a stranded mage in the Astral plane, and the portal stills even further. He looks at the elderly mage and the mirror, and for a moment his face seems to be on the edge of understanding something profound.

 

Then pure rage distorts his features.

 

" HOW DARE YOU!?"

 

A small sphere of pure kinetic energy appears to his left hand, and he hurls it with all his might straight to the center of the mirror, shattering it to millions of sharp shards.

 

Most of them fly harmlessly to random directions, but some find flesh and cut deep or scratch shallowly, depending on luck and distance from the mirror. Lord Jakob, holding the mirror, receives the most grievous injuries and his blood stains the nearby floor.

 

Turning his back to Jakob, the Original Zadown gazes again at the depths of the Hell portal, ready to release it from stasis.

[Jakob]

Jakob staggers back from the recoil of the blast. Blood streaming from his injured hand, he leans heavily against the door he just entered through. He shakes his head and tears flood his eyes as he watches his freind start to release the portal...

 

"Zadown..." he cries... "Are you truly lost to all that you loved and those who love you? Are you ready to sacrifice all that you have worked so hard for in all your wanderings? By calling these demons to this plane and facing them here, you are sure to destroy all that is good in you."

 

Gathering his remaining strength, Jakob summons a restorative field around him. Slowly the cuts and scrapes from the shattered mirror close and heal. Scars form and begin to fade, but not completely... His head hangs low when he realizes that the wounds were not merely from the glass. He knows that each cut and gouge in his flesh was powered by Zadown's self-loathing and pity...

 

He turns to address the others in the room...

 

"All of you... It is plain that this summoning cannot be stopped. Our only hope is to unite together in support of our troubled friend. Lend him our strength in his greatest time of need."

[Zadown]

OzymandiasT replied:

 

"I didn't fight the god of death for a hundred years to end up right back in the nether realm.", snarls a weatherbeaten Phantasm mage at the bar. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he clenches brown fists until his knuckles turn white. Dark eyes shut tightly in concentration, a halo of of ethereal light surrounds his head. "Take this, Planeswalker." The sword and leather scabbard at his hip are likewise wreathed in a glow of magical power. Slowly, the blade looses itself from the scabbard, and rising into the air, orients itself point-first at Zadown. It hangs still for a moment; then with a sudden burst of speed that takes it almost away from human perception, it skewers the mad mage through the center of his chest. But it does not seem to wound him. Instead, it glows all the more brightly, suffusing Zadown's aura with a frenetic blue current. The planewalker's eyes seem to come ever so slightly further into focus.

Zadown Replied:

Now completely in focused combat mode, shed of all madness that would hinder him in danger and using the rest of it as his armor against the chaos that using magic inevitable brings, the planewalker ignores both Jakob's words and Ozymandias' sword sticking in his chest. Saying the Word of Stasis backwards he undoes that spell, and the portal to Hell roars and expands, trying to accommodate something very big trying to get through. Reality whirs and twirls around the circle and the triangle ... and calmly the Original Zadown turns away from it, letting the spell run its course, facing Lord Jakob.

 

"Zadown, you say? That is the name my dreams had - 'tis not mine, nor would I ever be so stupid as to release my true name for others to know. Call me what you will, but do not see in me those who are mere shadows of parts of me."

 

Behind the planewalker, something starts to ooze through the portal, a tentacle, clawed hand and a thick leg at a time. He mutters something and turns around to see the demon as it hauls its body to this side.

 

The creature is hideous - a mass of dark fleshy matter, riddled with open maws and small arms armed with sharp talons, tentacles and misshaped pieces of armor.

 

"Welcome, Meatgrinder. It has been a while."

 

The demon grunts and wails and roars, emitting different noises from its various mouths, and it lumbers to the edge of the circle, making room for another demon that walks lightly behind the hulk of Meatgrinder's body.

 

It is a mere torn robe in the air, concealing a desiccated form of something gnarled and dark brown, but for all its seeming frailty it still holds the huge one in a leash. It nods to the planewalker, who nods back and with a gesture erases all the protective glyphs and markings from the floor.

 

The demons are here and free.

Edited by: Zadown at: 7/27/01 1:56:32 am

[Guest Morganex]

In the middle of the room the air shimmers and swirls and darkness bleeds from it like bloody tears. The darkness takes shape slowly against the screams of tortured air. A form emerges with a chilling smile on her lips.

 

"I heard my child calling........"

 

The dancer slowly moves forward approaching the planewalker.

 

"My child and not my child....but still doing as I bid.....ahhhhh"

 

Circling the planewalker with steps shaking the earth Kali dances the ending of life. The demons shiver and retreat carefully avoiding the snakelike arms.

 

"You do well my child of many names........I am pleased!"

 

One of the arms snakes out and touches the blade in the planewalkers chest.....it wavers and disappears.

 

"The stench of life is displeasing to me......"

 

Kali stretches to her full hight and lights dim.

 

"The end is near soon so soon........."

 

Her form wavers and disolves, all but a small part, which winds itself around the planewalkers neck forming a pendant of iridescent darkness.

[Yui-chan]

Yui watches the explosion of chaos with wide eyes, cursing silently that the planeswalker has already passed the bound from distance to interferance. She did not know what power could stop him/it, but certainly no Terran magic and not even superhuman strength could do so. This was a planeswalker, a being so close to a god as to be almost indistiguishable. A dreamer whose whim could create or destroy any reality. Some distant part of her memory whispered of the glorific omnipotence of being a planeswalker, almost as if she had felt it herself, but she shrugged it away, refusing to acknowledge the confusion that it engendered. Instead, her mind worked furiously at how to stop the chain of events that could destroy everything...

 

There can be no fighting his power or his body. All that is left is to appeal to his mind... Peredhil is still weak; both of the old men have failed; and two demons stand in the center of a number of people whom I would rather see alive. I've got to do something...

 

With that thought, determination narrowed her surprise-widened eyes, and the young woman stepped free of the Shadow-link and into the bright light of the room. In the same moment, the dancing goddess, Kali, disappeared from the Cabaret room, leaving only some odd artifact around the planeswalker's neck. Bravely, yet quaking on the inside, Yui strode across the room, past Jakob, only to stop before the furious face of the planeswalker.

 

Facing him calmly, arms at the side and defenses lowered, she spoke in an even voice.

 

"Dreamer, I beg of you to stop this..." She hesitates to see if he will even give her the chance to speak...

[Zadown]

The demon the planewalker called Meatgrinder starts to move with suprising speed towards the bar, the smaller demon in tow. Meatgrinder slobbers now, smelling all the real flesh in the room, but moves forward with a purpose and does not attack any of the mages present. The unnamed demon mutters and sighs in counterpoint to the wailing and roaring of the bigger one, and all can sense how it drains the ambient magic of the area, obviously ready to cast some spell. But it, too, holds its fire for now...

 

 

 

[Zadown]

The dance of the goddess of death upsets the planewalker greatly, and he starts to mutter quickly, tugging at the pendant as if it were a deadly spider or some other horrible thing:

 

"Nexus! Too many present .. my dreams have entangled me too deeply .. all these mages around .. I must gather my strenght elsewhere .. can't go against gods yet, not versus death no .."

 

He throws the spectral sword of the ghost Inhumatus away, and it disappears. Then he claws the pendant with both hands, but it does not budge, and terror replaces fury in his face.

 

Still, he hears Yui's call, and turns to look at the Huntress, eyes frantic, changing color with dazzling speed.

 

"Yes? That you may call me, a dreamer .."

[Yui-chan]

Yui notes over the shoulder of the planeswalker as the demons wander towards the bar, worry gnawing at her, still her attention must stay focused. She fixes her grey-green eyes on the panic-stricken rainbow that is the Dreamer's and continues. The demons were her original worry, yet what she sees in the infinite depths of his eyes instantly displaces them. The struggle there speaks of titanic clashes and terrible potential. In a heartbeat, she changes all that she would have said.

 

"You are in conflict. Awakening can be ... confusing and upsetting. Please, I would like to help you, if you will let me. I can help ... anchor you, clarify... give you a solid ground to stand on. I am a dream firmly bound to this place, and I offer you a bit of strength to ... stabilize you here."

 

As she speaks, she raises her hand, offering her palm to the dreamer. All the while, she wonders where her words have come from, and why such seeming nonsense should make such perfect sense to him. She has never been a planeswalker that she can recall, yet some ephemeral nothing in the back of her being whispers to her that he needs a starting point, something to clasp as he recalls the wandering parts of himself.

 

Her eyes fixed on his, the Huntress does nothing but breathe in quiet rhythm, awaiting his reaction.

[Zadown]

Dreamer (as he is now named) calms down as he listens to Yui - shifting from one mood to another and forgetting what he was doing as seems to be his habit. His hands release the pendant of Kali and his eyes settle, forming little hourglasses. The Huntress feels the eyes gazing straight to her past. In the end of her speech, Dreamer nods.

 

"Very well. Strenght I have but clarification I need. Name your price afterwards and I'll bind myself by my true name to go by it, if it is reasonable."

 

The planewalker makes a small motion with his right arm, and both he and Yui disappear from this plane.

 

Click

Edited October 29, 2006 by Zadown

[Zadown]

peredhil31 Posted,

 

Peredhil stirs and forces himself to his hands and knees.  With an effort, he raises his head.

Darting forward, Guido and Nuncio drag him back from the action to the table where his sons wait.

With trembling hand he drinks the water as they tell him in terse whispers what has transpired.

 

"Elbereth preserve us!"

 

Elrond suddenly wishes he were more heroic.  Someone like Sokar would be back on his feet, with perhaps a bloody nose, while he sat shaking in aftermath.

 

Drawing a deep breath, he focused on the difficult process of drawing strength and healing from his Ring for himself..

Hiding behind a cask of ale in the bar, the young Zadown has watched all that has happened with a mixture of mesmerized terror and fascination. When he notices the demons coming right at him, he cannot keep himself still any more and he jumps up, weaving a spell of lightning and retreating backwards from the approaching danger.

 

"J00 N3TH3RY SUX0R35!!!1 COM3 AND GET S0M3!! JAA AM NO FRAID OF J00 0R TH3 BIG GUY!!!1"

 

He releases the powerful bolt of lightning, aiming at the big demon, but the blue roaring bolt of electrical energy turns in the air, ending up hitting the smaller demon .. who deftly catches it from midair. Spellbinder, for that is its name, holds now a globe of crackling energy in his hands and grins widely under its hood.

[Guest Morganex]

Zadown posted,

 

Spellbinder releases the bolt back to its caster, but with seeming ease Blitzer Zadown jumps and tumbles, evading it. Instead, a cask of ale is hit, and with a booming sound it cracks asunder, spraying Zadown with its contents. Using that as distraction, Meatgrinder surges forward, roaring. Not being able to dodge all the appendages of the big demon, the young mage cries aloud as one taloned hand slashes his chest and one snapping maw manages to bite his leg.

 

"AI333!!1 J00 WILL PAY FOR TH3 BL0D IN BL0D, THINGY1!1!"

 

Cartwheeling away (almost stumbling in the process because of the wounds), Zadown lands in a crouch and sings aloud a quick spell. Ready for just such an occasion, Spellbinder sings a countersong, corrupting and twisting the summoning spell in process. A large fiery gate springs into existence, but where there should be a huge red dragon, roaring its defiance to the world, a minced and sliced corpse of one appears, killed by the corrupted summoning spell.

 

"THAT WYRMI3 WAS JAAS FAV 0N3, SUX0RS!!1"

 

Those are the last words of the young mage as Meatgrinder runs him over, dealing half a dozen mortal wounds in a heartbeat.

Morganex posted,

 

"Hey cool a fight!"

 

*The girl and her lolly peak around the door.*

 

"EEEEEEWWWW those are gross!!! They stink too!!"

 

*A frown of concentration forms between Morgane's eyebrows and between sucks on her lolly she mumbles an incantation.*

 

"There that should fix it!"

 

*With a naughty gleam in her eyes she watches as hectolitres of soapy water gush out of nowhere right onto the demons. Out of the bathroom two toilet brushes whizz and start scrubbing the offending creatures.*

 

Zadown posted,

 

Spellbinder, just done with the corrupting of the summoning spell, snarls as it doesn't quite catch the start of the incantation and the spell slips by - Meatgrinder just snaps the brushes out of air with its jaws and crushes them with two quick bites.

 

Occupied with their given task, they ignore the little girl, but Spellbinder glares at her from under its hood. The demons move on, towards the Recruitment Office, soapy water sloshing under their feet.

[Gyrfalcon]

*Gyrfalcon wisely got out of the way of the massive demon, 'Meatgrinder' the Dreamer had called it, as they passed by towards the recruitment office. One on one, Gyrfalcon could likely have fought either demon to a standstill, but together?

 

Gyrfalcon moved to the corpse of Blitzer Zadown and closed the eyes. He didn't even bother to attempt resurrection- one of the demons, probably the thin one, had cast Blood Curse- this Zadown was dead... forever.

 

Crouching in a spreading pool of blood, Gyrfalcon gently picked up the body of the young Zadown. As he carried him away for burial, blood staining the bright gleam of his armor, Gyrfalcon's eyes glinted with unshed tears at the loss of one so young... and his heart filled with impotent rage against the two demons.*

[Wyvern]

Meanwhile, Wyvern is catching all of this on film.

 

"I'm going be RICH!" he exclaims to himself gleefully while adjusting the camcorders resolution.

[Zadown]

Out of the Recruitment Office comes first a roar, then the charging huge bulk of Zadown of the Rogs, swinging his battle-axe with two hands - the Treeburner burns with white-blue flame, the warrior with yellow fire. The axe burns a fiery trail to the air and hits Meatgrinder with a loud whack, sinking deeply into the demon's flesh. The demon moans and roars, and spits acid, tearing the warrior with its claws and biting him with its maws, but the many layers of mithril-alloy armor stop the initial onslaught of the demon. The armor is gauged and acid burns it, but Zadown rises his axe for another strike.

 

At that moment, Spellbinder hits the warrior from behind its parter with something unseen and silent - Zadown stumbles in pain, clutching his head and losing the attack oppoturnity, and Meatgrinder surges forward, seeing an easy victory ahead. However, the warrior manages to rise the Treeburner again and strikes the demon, who retaliates with all its natural arsenal. Zadown and Meatgrinder are locked in melee, dealing blows after blows to each other - two armored, muscular titans, snarling and roaring.

[Peredhil]

Peredhil, still physically drained but recovered at other levels, rises and stands with the support of the worried Guinea Pigs on either side. A small pile of pellets around the feet of the pigs attests to their terror.

 

His sons sit pale and slumped, having enfused their energies to their father to aid in his recovery.

 

Appearing physically weak to the room, the three half-elves still spiritually flame with the auras of those that have walked and studied in the presence of Elbereth and Manwe, Orome and Aule.

 

Leaving the fighting side to those that do it best, unable to directly help his friend Zadown of the Rogs, Elrond instead fixes his gaze on Spellbinder and searches for Understanding. Watching the flows of energies pooling around the Demon, the manner in which it Demonically Possesses each spell, Peredhil comes closer and closer that which he seeks.

 

Spellbinder senses a threat, and snarls soundlessly, but no attack has been mounted, only a rising tide of ambient power in the room.

 

With a psychic snap that rocks Elrond back on his heels, he has it. The Demon's True Name by which it may be Bound, locked into physical incarnation, unable to utilize its magical or spiritual powers.

 

Unfortunately, holding the Name of such a Being on top of his earlier weakness has left Peredhil unable to use it in a Binding!

 

Rapidly Weaving the Name into his passive defenses, He looks around the room for a Mage to whom he can share the Name as a weapon...

[Zadown]

Spellbinder grimaces as its name is torn from it and turns its attention to Peredhil, thinking the battle with Zadown won already. Its eyes flare and it hisses:

 

"Sssttopp, mMagheee! Weeaaaaarreee boundh by eur missonhh, don nootth intherphere!"

 

Growling, it uses its nature bond with denizens of its home and air shimmers around it, then is torn apart, and through the holes in the air half a dozen lesser warrior-demons emerge, holding spears and tridents. They form a protective circle around Spellbinder, clearly nothing more than cannon fodder for the greater demon.

 

Meanwhile, Meatgrinder and Zadown are still locked in mortal combat, and it is hard to say which one is winning.