Meeting Hillather
Session 22 September 2024
We gather around the Hallaster rune, feeling the weight of what might come next. “What if this is the fight Hallaster was talking about, the one where we all have to kill each other?” someone asks. Tension rises in the air, and we quickly agree on a code word: saffron—a way to remind ourselves that we’re still allies.
Taking a deep breath, we all touch the rune. The moment our hands make contact, the world around us starts to crack like a shattered mirror. Shards of space fall away, and we find ourselves in a vast, dark void. It’s black, empty, unsettling. Malik casts dancing lights, illuminating the area faintly, but the space still feels oppressive. He starts singing softly, almost to calm himself—or maybe to calm us.
Jaf’ar steps forward, eyes scanning the darkness. “Maybe we need to touch one of the mirror shards,” he suggests. I nod, and as we reach out, the shards pull away, scattering and clustering together. Suddenly, four mini versions of Hallaster emerge from the shards, their forms coalescing in the darkness.
Before I can react, shards fly through the air, slashing me as they shoot by. Pain sears through me, and I see Malik strumming his harp. The sound is sharp, like a fiddle, and strange purple thorn bushes sprout around him and the Hallasters—likely an effect of the mirrors reflecting his magic. The thorns close in on us, making it hard to move.
In a flash of insight, I shout, “Wait! The mirrors reflect everything!” My voice echoes through the space, and Jaf’ar glances my way, understanding dawning on him. He immediately casts invisibility on himself.
One of the Hallasters reacts by casting fireball, and suddenly goblins appear around us. “WHO AM I?” the Hallasters ask in unison, their voices booming in the empty space.
Malik steps forward, speaking to the goblins, his voice full of mock affection. “I love you, Goblin. I give you the love you might have missed, Hallaster.”
Farryn tries a different approach, shouting, “You’re Hallaster!” But the Hallasters raise their hands in unison and bellow, “WRONG!” Shards of mirrors explode again, slashing through the goblins, killing them instantly. More shards fly towards me, but I manage to dodge this time.
“It’s a riddle!” Farryn yells, frustrated but determined. I nod, thinking quickly. “You’re a crazy old wizard who rules Undermountain!” I shout back at them.
“WRONG,” the Hallasters say, more shards flying.
Jaf’ar steps in, eyes narrowing. “You’re a mirror image,” he declares. Shards fly again, but this time they don’t hit me.
Another Hallaster casts fireball, while another summons a manifest mind behind us. The last one calls forth hobgoblins. The chaos builds as they ask again, “WHO AM I?”
Malik starts singing again, his voice growing louder, more powerful. “I am what I am, I’m my own astral creation.” His words seem to have an effect on one of the Hallasters. He calls out, “You are Lebos,” and the Hallaster sinks to his knees, his reflection disappearing. Runes appear where he stood.
Farryn shouts, “Savaros!” Another Hallaster falls to his knees, vanishing into thin air. I focus on one of the Hallasters and say, “Anarath, rune of protection and sacrifice.” But the Hallaster just shakes his head, “WRONG.”
Jaf’ar steps forward confidently and says, “You’re Lamath.” Another Hallaster drops, defeated.
Only one remains. He stares off into the distance, then asks again, “Who am I?” Malik takes a guess, but it’s wrong. Farryn turns to Jaf’ar. “This one is yours,” he says.
Jaf’ar thinks for a moment before replying, “You’re Chasm, the rune of decision.” The final Hallaster sinks to his knees, and the mirror shards around us start to dissipate, but some still linger.
Just when we think it’s over, Jaf’ar touches another shard, and Hallaster reappears, misty-stepping to another side of the room. “WHO AM I?” he asks once more.
Malik jumps in immediately, “Ulathar!” The Hallaster vanishes. Malik touches another shard, but this time, it hurts. A sharp pain courses through the air as damage erupts.
Farryn tries next, “Korombos!” But Hallaster replies, “WRONG.”
I stay silent, observing, knowing that rushing an answer could be dangerous. Jaf’ar calls out, “Angras, rune of war,” and the Hallaster drops to his knees, his power fading.
One last Hallaster appears, trying to cast a spell, but Jaf’ar falters, unsure of the counter. Malik whispers urgently, and I catch his words. “Chaos,” I repeat aloud. The Hallaster, stunned, is neutralized. Another materializes quickly after, but we’re faster now. “Anarath!” we call out together, and this one too is diffused instantly.
The Hallasters swirl around us, their forms merging and twisting until they become one. Standing before us is Hallaster, his eyes deep and knowing. He gazes at us for a long moment before speaking, his voice echoing through the void. “Welcome,” he says, “It has been ages since anyone made it this far.”
Jaf’ar, ever casual, responds, “Hello, Hally.” Hallaster’s eyes linger on Jaf’ar, as if recognizing something within him. I feel a strange connection too, though my thoughts are clouded. “Welcome,” Hallaster repeats, this time with more weight.
He explains, “I am like the Hallaster you’ve already met, but from a different place. I am an echo, a remnant of the past.”
Jaf’ar looks thoughtful, piecing it together. “This is Hillather,” he says quietly. “Morph thinks Hallaster doesn’t exist anymore.”
Hallaster—or Hillather—sighs. “Time moved too fast,” he says.
“You’re the real one,” Jaf’ar insists. “You’re Hillather.”
But Hillather shakes his head. “He is not like me, and I am not like him. I’m a part of him—fallen, not fallen.”
Jaf’ar presses on. “How do we get you back inside? How do we reunite you with the Hallaster out there?”
Hillather seems almost perplexed by the question. “Inside? Outside? He is out there, and I am here. This place, it exists outside time. He and I cannot exist together in the same space anymore.”
Farryn, ever practical, speaks up. “Jaf’ar wants to become the new ruler of Undermountain. How do we get there?”
Hillather’s expression grows heavy. “I had to split myself, giving up a part of me each time I gained more power. But now, the pieces of me are too fractured. The Hallaster out there—he doesn’t even know the full truth. He imprisoned parts of me to gain power, and you—you have helped free me, if only for a while.”
Farryn asks, “How can you help us defeat him?”
Hillather’s gaze is distant, his voice sorrowful. “I will have to give you my powers, to sacrifice myself so that you can face the Hallaster outside.”
Malik steps forward, ever considerate. “Do you have any last wishes?”
Hillather closes his eyes, his voice tinged with sadness. “I wish to be whole again, but the corruption is too deep. My only hope is that you will close the circle, end what I have become.”
Malik nods solemnly. “It will be my task to help with that goal.”
Hillather looks at each of us. “The last time anyone came this far was eons ago. My power has grown since then, but so has his. The first to make it here was Trobirant. He was…corrupted.”
His sadness deepens as he continues. “You will face a final battle. The last battle has yet to be fought. Be careful—Arcturia, his last apprentice, stands by his side. Hallaster has the power to deform the world, to expand Undermountain. But he lacks focus, consistency. What I was—what he was—is gone. You will need to be ready to face fragments of yourselves, for Hallaster takes what is within you and turns it against you.”
His voice drops lower, more foreboding. “He has fail-safes. He exists everywhere, because he is Undermountain. Hallaster will know your strategy before you act. You must reinvent yourselves if you are to stand a chance.”
The weight of his words settles over us. Hillather adds one final warning. “Once I sacrifice my powers, there will be no rest. There is an arcane disquiet in his tower, a disruption that prevents you from regaining strength.”
Farryn steps closer to me, his eyes warm but resolute. “Gwen,” he says softly, “I’m here for you now. I won’t always be, but I am here for you, so you know your aim is true.”
Malik approaches as well, both he and Farryn casting greater restoration on me. I feel warmth flood through me, easing the physical and emotional toll of the journey. Jaf’ar casts cure wounds on Malik, a small gesture of unity before the storm ahead.
Hillather’s light begins to grow brighter, his form shimmering as he prepares for the final sacrifice. “Please,” he says, “Remember the lessons I taught you. All the runes.”
Jaf’ar’s voice is thick with emotion as he says, “I’ll miss you, Hillather. You were the one I loved.”
Hillather’s light pulses as he responds, “And I, you.” With that, he fades away, leaving behind a wave of energy that ripples through the room.
Suddenly, everything shifts, and we find ourselves in a new place. I blink, disoriented. “Where are we?” I ask, looking around.
Before us stands a giant statue of Hallaster. Around the room are five small doors, and a large, ominous door looms in the north
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