Chapter 8-232: Chamber of Frozen Souls (1/2)
The Shroudlord was in a great underground canyon, the whistling of the wind proclaiming that it had been drawn here from outside, and that far above was some flue drinking it in before sending it out through the numerous tunnels and caves all around.
Lots of necroic energy in the air, rubbing off the death idolized here.
Both sides of the entire canyon had been worked over into endless tombs, graves, creches, bas-reliefs, and sculptures... many of the latter with currently empty stands, and their occupants scattered over white floors behind me. Master Fred and I craned our heads back, and yes, they ascended a good long way, the necroic haze in the air eventually obscuring even Eagle Eyes.
There was a last flood of incorporeal attacks here, ramming full into scores of Shards and Shardrays, Bursts filling their air with shrieking immaterial forms burning away forever. Who knew if they were mad or happy that their end had come...
I was down to merely two Alchemical Bombs left after that particular rush, not that it worried me. It simply meant that I had a lot of empirical evidence over multiple Elements that the trick worked. Creation Theurgy and the Shroud continually prodding me FTW!
“<WHO ARE YOU?!>”
If that Voice shaking the stone walls of this place meant to scare us, it naturally failed utterly.
I had been listening to these undead cursing, swearing, chanting, singing, screaming, shouting orders, pleading, and uttering battle cries for some time now. They’d been doing so in multiple languages, but only one of those matched the carvings and art style that had filled up all the available stone everywhere in homage to those who had come before.
The language was a crazy mix of Necrus, Aklo, and Human that didn’t speak well for the sanity of any culture that had developed it. The fact it had a Human base meant they’d reached a unified height as a culture somehow, somewhere. That Aklo and Necrus had thoroughly corrupted it meant they had fallen a very long way.
They lived in a necropolis with the ghosts and spirits of the ancients moaning at them all the time. They probably gave the undead the same rights as the living, like some idiot cultures did, and this is what became of them.
Their name for their culture literally translated as Hyperboreans, the first people of this land. As might be expected of a culture that had fallen so far, they were advanced in the sciences and the arts, valuing magic and developing a great and grand history I’d read as I passed by.
Unfortunately, they were living in a land with lots of Old Gods, and their elders were Bent. Their paths of power took them beyond the grave, and their lessers, tempted by the secrets of the dead and ‘immortality’, followed, and so their culture came crashing down in undeath and mad whispers in the dark.
Happily, this problem seemed to have largely solved itself, as the remaining living elements of the culture here had now joined their elders in eternal stasis and slow decay, and so it would vanish into the long night and never be seen again.
That night, of course, was going to be very bright and unwhite with vivus.
-Cold,- Master Fred /noted, thumbing a falling flake of carbon dioxide out of the air. The gale-force wind got within ten feet of him and vanished, picking up on the other side smoothly.
-It’s the single largest Cold Node of both worlds. Makes sense.-
He had asked me about undergoing the actual Ritual and Ceremony combination. I’d pointed out that he had a Heaven and Hell Pact, so he didn’t need to undergo the full things, just the penultimate ones, reinforcing the benefits of his Pacts.
It was, however, the smarter play to do the Ceremony of the Frozen Soul first.
Oh, yes, the voice...
“<LIFE!>” I replied in a chipper Voice, my answer swimming through the gale and lighting up the manafield with the Sublime thrum to the word. Lots of dark energies ahead writhed at the intrusion, and I sensed that they were burning.
I wasn’t bringing the power with me; I was burning what was here to make the power I was using. They could have all the necroic power they wanted; I was going to set it on fire and turn it into what I needed regardless!
“<THIS IS A PLACE HALLOWED TO DEATH!>” came the immediate retort. “<YOU ARE NOT WANTED HERE!>”
“<THIS IS THE MORTAL REALM. THE DEAD HAVE NO PLACE HERE>,” I replied calmly, promptly winning the metascale fight of justifications as we made our way forwards. Fresh scrapings seemed to indicate that all of these tombs had already been emptied, although which direction they’d gone was up in the air.
We were being followed, but well in the distance. They thought they were out of range of my spells, but they were only at the edge of my Detect Undead V. I could still reach out and touch them without any problem whatsoever.
A great black darkness whelmed up ahead of us, but neither of us slowed down. Solid tendrils of necroic energy, glinting faint purple in the lack of light, seemed to coalesce and lunge for us, and Master Fred waved Sleipner’s Alicorn.
The Wall of Fire exploded into place just ahead of us, held in place by Master Fred, and flared very brightly indeed when the necroic energy hit Holy Wrath. The air seemed to howl and buckle in pain as the darkness ignited all around us, none of the stuff able to touch us. I leisurely waved my hand, formed the Spellflare, and sent it into the tight clusters of woven spell energy ahead of us.
It might likely be filthy, squirmy, creepy, unclean, profane, Evil, and otherwise devotedly Ick, but it was still magic, still a spell, and so it could be Dispelled.
But why merely Dispel when you can light things up at the same time too, right?