In the main sanctuary of the ruined Hold of the Battle Lions, black shadows began to emerge from the piles of bones scattered across the filthy marble floor. Wraith-like creatures, their blurred bodies dripping inky blackness, began to glide towards the heroes, their outstretched limbs coalescing into shadowed talons. Some were sword-wielding spectres whose dark outlines approximated the armored forms they sported in life. Their red eyes burned like coals in the hooded voids of their heads. Undaunted, Alec moved towards the nearest wraith, unlimbering Oathtaker and swinging wildly. The axe slid through the creature, unleashing a trail of radiance that burned the wraith. He followed up with a second swing and the creature recoiled in silent horror. Oathtaker glowed with holy righteousness as Alec brandished it boldly. The ghostly form of the paladin swooped upon Varien, trailing streamers of ethereal ectoplasm. Varien drew Fiendsbane and held it aloft, pointing the tip of the blade at the onrushing apparition. He readied a thunderous smite and his sword began to crackle with thunder. “You’ll stop where you stand lest you be smited worse than your god Tempus could do.” The ghost pulled up short, as though Varien’s threat had given it pause. Varien nodded at the ghost. “Why does your soul linger here?” The ghost, frozen in the air above Varien, did not reply, but behind its horrid visage was an expression of pain, confusion, and despair. Its eyes told the story even as they rolled in a crazed manner. Varien surmised that this particular ghost had a difficult time distinguishing between friend or foe, trapped as it was in the murk between the prime material and ethereal planes. Varien showed the ghost his sword and made a show of sheathing it. “I want you to be at peace. Help me out here. Can you speak the Common tongue?” He repeated the question in Celestial and Infernal. The ghost tentatively reached a spectral hand toward Varien’s breastplate. The paladin steeled himself but stood steady. It made as if to place its hand on Varien’s armour. “Do not confuse my mercy for weakness,” Varien said in a warning tone. The ghost let its hand glide through Varien’s chest, but then its attention became fixated on something over the paladin’s shoulder. It raised its hand and pointed behind Varien. Varien turned to see the wraiths menacing his companions. Varien drew Fiendsbane and rushed the nearest wraith. His strike boomed with a thunderous smite that rocked his target. A bolt of lightning struck the wraith through a rent in the hold’s sloped roof. Varien stabbed the wraith again, rocking it with a radiant smite. Siegfried rushed to Alec’s side and cast protection from evil and good . A wraith tried to claw at the half-orc as he moved past it, but missed. “Take heart, friend!” Siegfried said to Alec in a commanding voice. Bob moved towards the nearest wraith and spoke a divine word of radiance . Burning radiance erupted from him and enveloped his target, searing it. The wraith writhed in silent agony. Satisfied, Bob did a healing dance to boost his brother’s strength. More wraiths began to drift through the walls and floor to menace the heroes. The wraith that Bob had burned raised a shadowy hand towards him. Bob wagged his finger at the undead creature. “Nuh-uh!” he said in return. The wraith in front of Varien swung its dark sword at Varien, cutting him to the bone with necrotic damage. The paladin deflected the creature’s second swing. Another wraith glided incorporeally towards Siegfried and clawed at him. Siegfried felt the cold touch of death as it raked its claws over him. Siegfried winced and lost concentration on his protection from evil and good spell as the wraith struck him again. Yet another wraith reached its hands out and began to drain Siegfried’s life essence. Siegfried could feel his strength sapping. The wraith turned to Bob and tried the same thing. “I say no to you, sir,” Bob snarled. Suddenly, from behind, another wraith pounced on the sorcerer, swinging a shadowy sword. Bob manifested a protective dragon wing to deflect the creature’s sword attack. It followed up with a second swing that opened a long wound across his midsection. Varien tried to block another strike from a wraith but the creature’s sword got past his defences. Varien doggedly brought his shield up to block a second strike even as the necrotic burn from the slashing wound staggered him. The doors to the temple slammed open as Erwen strode into the chamber. He was shocked to see the brutal melee unfolding before him. He raised his head to the arched ceiling and howled, conjuring a pack of wolves that crowded into the chamber, their eyes shining like white-hot coals. “Erwen, that’s a terrible idea!” Siegfried shouted. “Wolves can’t hurt wraiths!” Erwen growled at Siegfried. “How can the strongest person we know be the stupidest person we know!” Siegfried shouted skyward, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “They’re here now, Siegfried,” Erwen replied. “The wolf pack knows what to do.” “Such powerful magic, wasted!” Siegfried moaned. Erwen stood with his hands on his hips, a proud expression on his face, as his army of wolves closed in on the wraiths. Siegfried made eye contact with Erwen. “I’m going to kill your shadowfelling dogs.” Erwen grinned, pleased at Siegfried’s reaction to his choices. Alec raised his axe and swung it at the nearest wraith, slicing it cleanly in half. The wraith fell apart into shadowy shards that melted and boiled away to nothingness. Alec cleaved through and attacked again, nailing another wraith, and followed through with another two mighty swings, with radiance flashing with each biting swing. Erwen’s wolves surrounded the larger, weapon-wielding wraiths and tore into them with their jaws and claws. One of the wraiths was immediately torn to shreds. “What? Wolves aren’t supposed to be able to eat ghosts!” Siegfried shrieked shrilly, aghast, as his worldview shattered. “Magic summons normal wolves, which are incapable of…” “You underestimate me, Siegfried,” Erwen said. Varien stared at the wraith that was draining his life essence, and unleashed his helm of the regent’s glare. Its visor glowed impossibly bright as it blasted the wraith with a beam of purest radiance and flaming fire full in its hooded face. It recoiled and let go of the paladin. Varien called upon his divine reserves to increase his magical aptitude. Siegfried collected himself and swung his magical axe. He missed the nearest wraith. “Bob, help me out. Have I lost my mind today?” Siegfried asked. “What?” Bob replied. “You’re seeing this too, right?” Siegfried added. “Oh yeah,” Bob said. Siegfried swung his axe again and struck the wraith with its cold Krypt head. “Bob, got any healing power left?” Siegfried asked. Bob uttered another word of radiance and burned the nearest wraith with a blast of radiant damage. He also cast cure wounds to help Siegfried and his other companions. A wraith swung its dark sword at Bob, but the sorcerer deftly dodged. He ducked another swing easily. Another wraith struck Siegfried with its sword. The wraith behind Varien attempted a strike, which Varien blocked, but its second slashing attack got past the paladin’s defences. Erwen sat down on an intact pew and put his feet up, pulling out his favourite pipe. “Hey Siegfried,” he called out, filling and lighting his pipe. “You see that updog?” “NO!” Siegfried growled. “Not like this. You dare use my own spells against me, Potter?” “Learn the difference between damage resistance and damage immunity!” Erwen called back. “I’ll damage immunity your mother!” Siegfried hissed. Alec wielded Oathtaker and began to swing it with abandon. He laid down three solid hits with his axe, leaving a whirlwind of tattered shreds of shadowstuff in his wake. Alec ran to the nearest wraith and hit it with his axe. Erwen exhaled a lungful of smoke into a wolf-shaped smoke ring and howled. Obediently, his wolves continued to rip and tear their targets. Varien struck with Fiendsbane, slicing the dread wraith with radiance. He cut the creature in half. It disappeared in a puff of shadow. Varien bashed the next wraith with his shield and followed through with another slash, spinning and bashing, with Fiendsbane glowing. That wraith also fell into nothingness beneath the paladin’s blade. Erwen’s wolves ducked out of the way of Varien’s slashes as the paladin rushed his final attacker. “Do you need help, Siegfried?” Varien called out. Siegfried struck the wraith with his magical axe, once, and then a second time. “Everything’s fine!” Siegfried said as he disintegrated the wraith. Erwen’s wolves howled in victory. One of them, a particularly perceptive wolf named Thurston Howl the Third, sniffed the air and growled, pointing his nose to the southeast. His growls were amplified by his wolf brothers as they formed an arrow shape. “My boys have picked up the scent!” Erwen proclaimed, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “I believe we have to go that way.” Varien felt the presence of the ghostly paladin reforming a few yards away. Siegfried poked Bob in the eye and then flicked a tear onto the altar. “Ow!” Bob protested. “You know, I keep vials of evergold in my pocket.” Varien cleaned the last of the shadowstuff from his blade and approached the ghost. “So, now do you feel like talking?” The ghost bowed her head in a solemn nod. Recovering some of her senses, and some of her horrifying features warped back into something more human-like. “Charged, we were, to keep the forces of evil at bay.” Her voice was as fragile as autumn leaves on the wind. The paladin pointed at the altar. “Now, I am powerless to stop the dark forces that gather.” The altar seemed to grow visibly weaker, its inscriptions dulling by the second. “Where do these dark forces gather?” Varien asked. The ghost’s eyes flashed. “Below,” she whispered. She pointed in the same direction as Erwen’s wolves. “While we lived, my fellow priests would rejuvenate these ancient wards to prevent the portal from opening, but the wards grow weak without our rituals, and our strength has fled. The blood of the faithful will open the portal.” “Does it have to be Tempus faithful, or just faithful?” Siegfried asked. That seemed beyond the ghost’s understanding. “Well, the blood of the desecrated shall close the portal,” Varien declared. “Once and for all.” He bowed to the ghost. “If the altar fails, the relic within will fall to the Enemy,” the ghost said. “There’s a weapon within the altar?” Varien asked. “Part of one,” the ghost nodded. “Is it a weapon that I could possibly use to destroy the portal?” Varien asked. “The weapon’s blade must be reunited with its hilt, tang and pommel,” the ghost whispered. “Where is the blade?” Varien asked. “Lodged in a devil’s heart,” the ghost replied. “Do you know the name of this devil?” Varien asked, the hair on the back of his neck rising. “Baazka,” the ghost hissed. Varien presented the ghost with his sword, pointing to the rune on its blade. “Baazka’s name is already inscribed upon my blade, and his life is mine. I will kill your devil, and reunite the blade with the hilt.” Varien walked to the altar, and held Fiendsbane over his head with two gauntleted hands. “By the Power invested in me!” Varien shouted, and brought it down with all his righteous might upon the marble surface. A thunderous smite exploded the thick marble altar, shattering it into a pile of rubble. The ground beneath his feet shuddered, and there was a flash of light from within the broken altar. A glowing hilt, handle and pommel broke free of the debris, and Varien collected them up and inspected them. “The remains of Illydrael,” Varien said reverently. “Grandur told me it was a holy relic of Tempus, wielded by one of Tempus’s divine champions, who battled Baazka and broke off the blade of this sword in the devil’s still-beating heart. This relic was used to seal the Bloodgate.” The ghost’s expression grew severe. “The die has been cast,” she said gravely. “Seal the portal, now, or the Hells will come to Earth.” She faded away, her soul finally at rest. Varien turned on his heel and sprinted towards the southeast as the walls of the ruined temple began to shake ominously. The Hold of the Battle Lions began to collapse in on itself. The adventurers ran for safety outside, following Varien’s lead. They saw, and felt, the entirety of Dragonspear castle rocking on its very foundations as the rumbling increased to a full-blown earthquake. From rents in the earth beneath their feet, they could smell brimstone.