We took a crate full of explosives. And I knew exactly just where to place them. As we arrived... there he was. Waiting for us. As I expected he would. Or hoped, I should say.
Mortimer.
I had waited very long to meet him. To see the necromancer with my own eyes. And he did not disappoint. With a mere wave of his hand, he suck the life out of the birds flying around the area and twisted the carcasses as they fell from the skies. Upon reaching the ground, they were already skeleton dragons. Three of them.
I knew then a fight was inevitable. We wanted to go in. And he wanted to stop us. I exchanged a glance with the other Wyrds. That was the sign. That was the silent message that meant:
We.
Will.
Attack.
Our only hope of breaching his defense was catching him by surprise. I prepared a Pain Spike and hurled it at him, pointing my scythe forward. From that point onwards, everything was a blur. Van's lightning shocking the skeleton dragons and drawing their attention, to lure them away. Ela stepping in and out of the shadows, stabbing at the necromancer's back. Varok taking the front, shouting and furious, pushing his body to the limit out of anger alone. Gustha next to me, mass cursing and smiting our foes, while healing our allies; the miracle of Stranger manifested. And I...
I was mesmerized. Three dragons. Such power. Such impressive power. Was that all from Azamul? Was it the crystals? Or was that from the self? Mortimer was all I imagined and more. And I thought to myself, had things been different, he'd make quite the tutor. The things I could learn... The power I could hold...
"Focus thy mind, Harbinger of mine", I heard the whisper, waking me from the trance.
I ran a finger across the blade of Darkstar, drawing blood and using it to summon my golem Jeremiah. And we joined the fray.
The fight was hectic. But I could tell we put a dent on him. If not his body, then certainly his pride. Some of us fell, myself included; his power was immense. But at the end, he still retreated, ethereal and drained. He continued attacking us, veiled from sight, as we ran into the cave and breached into the camp.
Hordes upon hordes of cultists were tossed at us, as Mortimer mocked our every attempt. And every time he did, the constant reminder of our petty and finite condition.
"Mortals", he called us. Was he not one? Had he surpassed the constraints of the body? Was his soul free of the cage of the flesh and the shackles of death? Oh, Mortimer. So many secrets... So many mysteries...
We fought our way into their church. The first symbol I wanted to destroy. I laid down the explosives and set the building ablaze, with Van's assistance.
As we exited, I felt the smell of death. A killer was among us. I detected him, sneaking around a wall. The man introduced himself as one Arkais, a councilman of Edana. And a Kinarugian. Lucky me. Yet, he was reasonable enough and had come to join the assault, if a little late. Wary of my creations, he joined our fight, swift and agile, jumping in and out of the shadows, piercing through his opponents with obsessive precision. Finesse and skill. And most importantly: courage. Courage to put aside differences and join a battle against the true threat.
I won't deny he drew my interest, as well. I had been thirsting for the chance to sit and speak with a Kinarugian over my favorite topic.
Next, accompanied by the councilman, we moved into the mines proper. I followed Lance's advice, to avoid the crystals. At least, for now. Blowing them up could be dangerous for us, and I'd never... ever... would put my companions at peril. That's something you and I don't have in common, Mortimer.
In the mines, we found the sacrifical altar and we set explosives to it as well. Lightning them up from distance, with fields of fire.
"The champion!", I heard Varok shouting. And we nodded to one another, marching into the archway. Within the crater, we found the Champion of Azamul and challenged him. The skies darkened as if in response to our assault.
As the champion lay defeated at our feet, I placed explosives around the execution platform. Another symbol of Azamul's reign of terror.
Only one place left. We exited the crater and climbed the hill, towards the Arbiter's tent, the one who kept the crystal shards that opened the way into Azamul Maze. We defeated him and his soldiers. I went into the tent, alone this time, and took the shards - more, yet - with me. Placing the explosives inside, I stepped out and laid the tent to waste.
"This will only get him angry", said the councilman.
"It's better than doing nothing", replied Ela.
And I must agree with the elf. Inaction is to accept willingly the tides of fate. Nothing could displease me more.
With the explosions echoing in the distance, we made way to the exit. Many of the cultists ran as well. I don't know if from us or if from that foul, foul mine.
We said our good-byes to Arkais. His expression was a mix of curiosity and distrust.
"Who are you people?", he asked.
"We?", I said, spreading my arms. "We are the heroes! And now, so are you."
He left through a gate. We left through another. The assault was over. But only time would tell how successful we had been. One thing was certain: we got his attention.
Mortimer. Oh, Mortimer. What secrets do you hide? What stories do you not tell?
What is the meaning of the crystals?
What is their purpose?