All party members unite
Session 12 December 2024
The battlefield is pure chaos. Hallaster soars towards the asteroid, dragons clawing and blasting fire in his direction. Their attacks seem relentless, but he weathers them with maddening ease. I steady myself, draw my bow, and let five arrows fly. Three find their mark, but even those strikes feel insignificant against his towering, godlike form.
Nearby, Malik stands amidst the tumult, holding a miniature, illusionary recreation of the battle in his hand. With deliberate drama, he flicks the tiny replica of Hallaster’s blast scepter out of existence and declares, “I wish for the permanent and complete destruction of Hallaster’s blast scepter, such that it is entirely eradicated from existence, leaving no trace, fragment, memory, or possibility of its return or recreation by any means, whether magical, divine, or otherwise, across all planes of existence, timelines, and realities.”
The air shifts. My stomach tightens as the battlefield itself seems to ripple under the weight of Malik’s wish. Hallaster’s infamous blast scepter vanishes, replaced by…a different staff? No, wait. It’s his original staff. My mind races. Is this what Malik intended? Hallaster, now gripping his old weapon, bellows, “ONE MORE MINUTE!” His voice booms, and I glance nervously at the looming planet drawing ever closer.
Dragons swirl around him, continuing their desperate assault. Some of the younger ones turn tail, trying to flee the chaos, but Hallaster’s wrath pursues them even as fire breath scorches his form.
Out of nowhere, I see Calyx riding a massive red dragon, its scales gleaming like molten metal in the dim astral light. He extends a hand toward me. “Come on, Gwen! Let’s save Farryn!” Without hesitation, I grab his hand and vault onto the dragon’s back. As we charge into the fray, I unleash four more arrows, each hitting true. A jolt of satisfaction courses through me as I steady myself on the dragon’s back, eyes fixed on Hallaster.
But something feels wrong. Every time I glance at Hallaster, his staff morphs again, flickering between shapes and forms. My confusion deepens as the astral plane itself begins to shift. It’s no longer calm—waves of magic ripple and surge like a stormy sea.
Suddenly, our dragon dashes forward, and I try to take aim again. The wind tears at my shots, redirecting them. Before I can adjust, the world spins—misty step. The air crackles with energy, and radiant light bursts from me, colors cascading like a painter spilling their palette into the void.
“What the hell?!” I shout as I catch my balance. My bewilderment is cut short by an even stranger sight—Hallaster, now drawing a massive rune, his movements deliberate and ominous. Black tentacles from Patience’s spell thrash around him, but he persists, focused.
Then I see it—a massive goblin materializing from within the rune, reaching toward Patience. My heart sinks. It’s the same goblin that robbed me before! He grabs at Patience, who’s caught in the rune’s glow.
Near Hallaster, there’s a sudden flash of blinding light. I squint to make sense of it and gasp when I see who it is. Cross! The leonin, who’d stayed behind at the Temple of Lathander to deal with Shar’s curse, stands tall, golden mane gleaming. He yells over the din, “I’ve notified the others!”
Hallaster’s furious roar cuts through the chaos. A fiery orb gathers in his hand, and I see him cast a fireball. “CRAP!” I yell, bracing for impact.
The battle rages on, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. Magic leaks from the cracks in Hallaster’s form like blood from a wound, casting a sinister glow into the swirling chaos of the astral plane. Then I notice—Farryn and Cross vanish. My stomach drops. Where did they go? A rope trick, maybe? Or something worse?
The dragon Farryn had been riding lunges at Hallaster, claws flashing, but the air around them distorts. Magic implodes, sucking in sound and light for a split second before—BOOM! A flash of white light erupts. Hallaster shrinks, his massive frame losing some of its overwhelming size. But the cost is devastating. The shockwave tears through everything. When the light fades, I see the bodies of countless dragons floating lifelessly. My breath hitches. Tears spill down my cheeks as I cling to the dragon I’m riding with Calyx, thankfully out of the blast’s reach.
Hallaster’s laughter cuts through my grief, sharp and mocking. “FOOLS! DO YOU THINK YOU CAN STOP ME? A SIZE SMALLER? THAT WON’T STOP ME!” His form, though diminished, looks pristine, as though every wound has been erased. He looks at us like prey, his gaze filled with contempt.
But then…something shifts. The magic swirling around Hallaster grows unstable, spiraling wildly. It pulls from him, and to my amazement, he shrinks again. His power diminishes with every moment. His frustration is palpable.
The astral plane itself seems to react. Strange weather patterns swirl around us, summoned, I realize, by Malik. His harp sings through the void, each note heavy with magic. With every stroke of the strings, the air darkens, the plane growing more ominous, more alive.
Suddenly, I see it—a rune blazing through the chaos, hurtling straight toward us. My heart stops. It’s the rune of Anarath, a symbol burned into my memory from my trial. Panic grips me until I realize—it’s helping us. The rune blesses the dragon, Calyx, and me with its boon. Relief washes over me. I know all too well how devastating its bane could have been. Hallaster howls in fury at the mistake.
The planet looms ever closer, an enormous weight pressing on my thoughts. It’s impossible to ignore, but the fight pulls my focus back.
Calyx trembles with rage. His fury is almost tangible, swirling around him as heat radiates from his body. Around Hallaster, a dense cloud forms, searing and opaque. All I can see is the faint glint of the staff breaking through the smoke as Hallaster uses it to slay another dragon. The sharp snap of bone echoes. I choke back a sob, my anger boiling over.
I’m so caught up in the chaos that I don’t notice my own magic flaring wildly. Flames leap from me, igniting Calyx’s clothes. “Sorry! Sorry!” I shout, patting at the fire, but Calyx doesn’t seem to notice. His focus is entirely on Hallaster.
Patience fires a fireball into the cloud, and the explosion lights up the area. But Hallaster remains obscured.
Then I hear it. A crack. The magic in the air around us changes—it vanishes. The smoke clears, revealing Hallaster clutching a young dragon in his hand. I watch in horror as he snaps its neck in front of its mother. The grief and fury in her roar shake me to my core.
And then, as if summoned by some impossible twist of fate, three figures emerge from the chaos. A scarecrow, the unmistakable POES, and—my heart skips a beat—a wyrmling.
It’s her. Saffron. My Saffron. The wyrmling magma dragon looks confused, her molten form shimmering in the distorted light. “Saffron!” I yell, my voice cracking. She turns, her gaze locking onto me. Recognition flickers in her fiery eyes.
With a furious roar, Saffron unleashes her magma breath on Hallaster. Flames and molten rock consume him, burning through his robes. His form twists as he looks around in confusion and pain. Saffron, with Scarecrow and POES on her back, soars toward me.
Tears blur my vision, but my heart swells. “Oh holy smokes…!” I whisper, barely able to contain my relief.
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