Legends of Old Urthe - Hell on Urthe  (D&D v3.5)
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Fourth Age - Old Urthe: Ripples in Time

In a desperate attempt to thwart the Snakemen from changing time, Alasha'an, Brugar, Calinor, Saffaris, Venelia and Zhihariaster agreed to accompany Harry back in time to the Devastation. Hamin, however abandoned his former comrades, as Henman broke the news to his cousin that he had a daughter whom he had never seen, and the one-eyed warrior raced off in search of her.

Once more employing Seeker's Orb, the six were transported back to a world damaged almost beyond salvation. The Mother's pain all but crippled Saffaris, while the Orb itself fell lifeless, cutting off any chance of escape from that terrible time.

With the assistance of a local guardsman, the party were joined by Quintilla, an Elf and former companion of Saffaris and Venelia, now one of Inurien's agents. Travelling in a variety of demon chariots, and adopting the disguise of vermin exterminators, the party arrived at the place where it would all take place, surprised to recognise the mountain that would, in their own time, be home to Brugar's kin. Zhihariaster's enchantments got them past the guards and into their underground lair, but the Snakemen were already there, shape-changed into guardsmen. One with Melzakre's visage killed Quintilla with a rod that spits fire.

Fleeing deeper into the underground chambers, the party engaged the Snakemen in a pitched battle and, guided by Harry, fight their way to a room that contained huge grey machines, their faces covered with buttons and dials. But again the Snakemen had got there first.

With the assistance of the terrified guardsmen, the party overcame the Snakemen, only to discover that the machines were breaking down, and that the Devastation was imminent. But Harry realises that this is what was meant to be, and that the Snakemen, far from changing time to destroy the future, have only ensured its existence, if doomed all there present.

As the complex began to collapse around them, and the party succumbed to a strange sickness, Harry desperately called upon Seeker, summoning forth the spirit of the Orb, now revealed in his true form as the god Seker. But Seker only laughed, absorbing the destructive forces and, as an mere afterthought, slaying the Half-Orc with but a gesture, before turning his attentions to the others.

It was one battle they could not win. For all their prowess and courage, they faced a being beyond mortal ken, a self proclaimed god to whom the secrets of time were laid bare, a creature of almost infinite might who had just stopped an explosion that would have levelled a mountain, drawing all that power into himself.

The wise would urge them to flee ... or since that avenue was not available to them, then to at least do whatever was necessary to survive, not to throw away their lives in a hopeless gesture.

But heroes bend their knee to none save they have earned it, least of all someone who commits murder so casually.

Heroes never let their friends down, and are never afraid to stand up for what is right.

And heroes ... heroes hold some things more precious than life ...

For a moment after Harry's death, there was a pause, like the quiet before a gathering storm, and then, with a defiant yell, Brugar leapt forward ...

Calinor spoke a single word of command and the blade of his sword was once more wreathed in flames as the young warrior followed his comrade into battle ...

Knowing what was to come now, Alasha'an swiftly shoved her protesting kitten inside her jerkin, as the Elf joined Man and Dwarf ...

Venelia's finger tightened on the lever that activated the bang-wand she cradled in her arms ...

Hand tight upon her staff, Saffaris began to pray. A simple prayer, invoking not flame or fury, but merely the blessing of the Mother upon her friends ...

But it is Zhihariaster who drew Seker's gaze, Zhihariaster who spat defiance in the eye of the god. Zhihariaster who was the first to fall.

Seker stood unmoved, still as the storm's eye, even as Brugar's axe and Calanor's sword slammed into him, striking hard, but not hard enough to penetrate his form, though the unyielding flesh was marked by a fine web of black tracery where they hit.

From the god's eyes, twin beams of crackling light darted forth, bathing Zhihariaster in their unholy radiance. The succubus dropped to the ground like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

With but one swing of his arm, Man and Dwarf were batted aside, their bodies flying through the air, such was the force of the blow, to smash against the chamber's walls, falling lifelessly to the floor.

Venelia's bang wand bucked in her hands as she unleashed it against Seker, her finger holding down the activation mechanism until finally naught but a clicking sound was heard. Under the barrage, Seker rocked backwards ... but it was nothing more than an inconvenience to him. With a snarl, the god gestured, and the device exploded, sending shards of hot metal flying into the Elf, shredding her flesh. She collapsed in a pool of her own blood.

Two remained.

Alasha'an moved forward, Saffaris close behind her.

With casual ease, deceptively so, the pitted iron blade sliced through the air, sheathed in a blue glow, its habitual hum almost a scream of hate.

The point of the sword screeched as it pressed against all too-solid flesh, the exact point where Calanor and Brugar's weapons hit, unable to pierce the god's skin, yet unwilling to be pushed aside.

But then Saffaris, all the while intoning words that invoke courage, placed her arm on Alasha'an's back, lending her strength to the struggle ...

For a moment, a heartbeat in which history itself hung in the balance, nothing happened.

But then the scales tipped, just slightly ... and Seker's scream joined with that of the blade as its point finally penetrates. The fine black tracery around the wound began to spread, slowly at first, then to cover the god's entire body.

Alasha'an pulled her sword free and tried to take a step back, but before either Elf could move, they were caught in the shafts of light that issued forth from the wound, their flesh ripped from bone as it touched them.

The other thing about heroes ... is that they have a habit of winning through, no matter that the odds are hopeless. No matter the cost to themselves.

Seker's form was ripped asunder as the forces within him broke free, the concussion from the explosion rocking the mountain itself, all about him consumed by the bright light ...

And so the future was saved.

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