Faced with the expanse of darkness before them, the party seek a path forward. If not to find the Death Stone, then at least to find their way back to the surface. The pebble shore of the enormous lake stretches out along the cavern wall from which they were deposited. The party find it ends abruptly to their right so follow the shore left. Ten minutes pass along the uneven ground, following the wall, when a distant rumble can be heard. Constant, churning. The next few minutes bring clarity to the sound, water, strong flowing water, a waterfall into the lake. Then they see something, faint at first, but undeniable in its presence. A glowing runic text, carved into stone. An island out in the lake, the Elemental Death Stone jutting proud from its centre. As the party approach, ever closer to the waterfall, they now see a series of islands that lead out to the stone.
The two Servants of the Weave display their enthusiasm to get closer to the ancient artefact, to begin their studious assignment. Before they can advance, a visitor joins them. Floating out from the darkness comes a sickly yellow orb, pupil focused upon them. Wary of this creature, the party draw weapons, and it's disembodied communication rings in their thoughts once more. "Mother will be pleased. You've come so far, you have much to gain".
Mornington whips forth with his magical Coral Scimitar, lashing out at the creature. It takes a glancing blow, jolting it to the side before it floats away from the party, back into the darkness. A few moments pass, then the intrusive voice returns, scratching at the minds of each adventurer. "That is no way to treat a child of mine...".
The water ripples in the lake, close to where the party stands on a rock shelf hanging out into the waters. A dark shape floats towards the surface before the water parts, giving way to a glossy, dark flesh, glistening in the torch light. Three lidless yellow eyes bulge from the observable mound while the rest of the aquatic creature remains concealed. The voice continues, speaking to the party in an inviting manner. Naturally they are apprehensive to communicate but eventually Edward gives in and replies to the telepathic link, and soon the others follow. The creature speaks to Edwards ambitions and turns to offering him solutions to his desires, offers him a chance at an alternate power, at an alternate patron. Mornington is promised the knowledge of the ages, the way for his name to be in the songs, for his name to be renowned. Crom is offered great strength, for him to take on the greatest of foes and bring destruction to his enemies. Amarion is promised the knowledge to fix the imbalance occuring in the prime plane, for nature to be healed, assistance in appeasing his elderkin. They are all promised great things, from a creature claiming to be older than their world, steeped in cosmic knowledge. All they have to do is become thralls to it, thralls to the Aboleth.
The party start to talk aloud, no longer allowing this infiltrator of thoughts to pick them out one by one. They don't trust this entity, this dweller of the deep. They refuse offers, they refuse the outlandish promises, and the creature is angered, if they are not with, do they oppose? The three eyes sink below the surface, sink down deep. The water is still, the sound of the waterfall the only sound within the damp darkness.
The water erupts! The surrounding area showered as the creature emerges in full, and descends upon the party. A giant fish, squid, aberration with at least half a dozen eyes, tentacles, fins, and exposed glands. Everything is thrown into chaos. As it rises, waves of water sweep onto the rocks, swirling and twisting as though controlled, dragging both Edward and the two wizards. Tentacles lash out in manic fashion as the party raise arms in defense. Mornington slices at the creatures side. Dark, oily, foul smelling fluid sprays out, and pricks at the nobleman's skin. Edward swims and assists the wizards in finding the shore, all getting back to their feet. Crom leaps from the rock onto the back of the abomination and grapples with it, trying to keep it near the lake's edge. Amarion calls upon the moon, as a beam of pale blue light streams down from the cavern ceiling, the skin of the creature hissing and steaming at the damage caused to it.
The party try to maneuver away from the creature they now know as 'The Aboleth', and closer to the Death Stone. Each adventurer attempts to run and jump from island to island while the creature is locked in combat with the martially talented among them. Edward and Mornington make nimble progress onto the second isle trying to keep up with Croms bounding leaps. A Unknown emerges from the water and crawls up on to the island, but Crom has already leapt to a further island. The Bard and Warlock pepper it with ranged attacks before discovering it to be a mere illusion, placed in their minds by the Aboleths supernatural abilities. Amarion casts Shield of Faith on Crom, as he now draws considerable attention from their adversary after setting foot on the isle hosting the Stone. Amarion and Crom each take a share of melee, and each receive vicious wounds from tentacle lacerations in return. Amarion plummets into the water after an attempted leap falls short. Caught in the open, the creature strikes again and the Paladin loses consciousness, and will surely drown in the cold depths.
Crom flies into a rage, shield of faith protecting him still, he stands proud upon a great rock as he faces the creature alone, carving bloody fury around him. Edward and Mornington make it to the final island with the Death Stone, Crom within a dozen feet of them, holding off the Aboleth. Mornington magically heals Amarion with his healing word, ultimately saving him, as he splutters water and begins swimming towards the nearest island. As they approach the stone, they can see faint glowing energy emitting from the stone and travelling in a line upwards, towards the source of the waterfall. Edward can hear the voice of his patron, but it is not within his thoughts, it is spoken fiendish words from his own lips. The death stone rune glows, and a runic code halos the stones peak, Edward sees it flash into his mind, letter by letter, as he commits this to memory. His memory? His patrons memory? As long as they have this magical text they are one step closer to opening the Dargean inner sanctum.
The Aboleth retreats beneath the surface away from the arcing blade of Croms axe, a lull in the mayhem for a moment. Edward sets up a candle as instructed to do by his patron, this is the time, the voice beckons. Crom feels a sharp pain at the base of his skull, something infiltrates his mind as the sensation sweeps through his head. His will, breaks. His limbs, slack. His fists, clench. He turns, eyes glazed over, and calmly approaches Edward, as he slowly raises his axe. Mornington sees this, sees something is amiss, sees Croms body language, sees a charm in effect. This puts them in grave danger, their line of defense turned on them. Mornington, scimitar in hand, steps between Crom and Edward, and makes a stand. Crom, axe raised already, brings it down with frightful speed. But not quick enough, for the dueling nobleman is quicker. Not only does Mornington evade the strike, axe ringing out as it collides with stone, but he musters a countercharm and sees his opening. Not wishing any mortal wound upon Crom, he closes the distance. He closes the distance, and backhands Crom so hard it echoes through the cavern, almost masking the subtle utterance of the countercharm. Croms head snaps to one side, and when he turns back, there is life in his eyes once more. Back to his senses, a look of confusion falls over him, not knowing why he is stood toe to toe with Mornington, not knowing that for a moment he was a puppet to the Aboleth's will.
The waters ripple behind the party, as the predator maneuvers into position. Amarion is safely ashore, and is tending to his wounds, when he sees the smoke rising from Edward's candle. Wisps of smoke plume into thick smoke, and then joining the dim light of the Death Stone, a red glow appears. A vertical line at first, that quickly swells as a sound, not unlike tearing paper, rips through the space. It opens wider, the ground around them morphing to brimstone and chain, as two figures slink from the portal before them. Muscular, deformed creatures of fierce stature, one red, one blue. Horns curling from their elongated skulls, sharp teeth and lolling tongues forming unsettling smiles. The one with blue skin bares a flame wreathed sword, the one with red, a sword of frost. They turn, not to the party, but to the Stone. Hack, hack, HACK at the stone, a fury of blows. Freezing it, melting it, freezing it, cracking it! Before anyone can stop the devilish figures before them, the stone splits in two, the top slowly tilts back. It falls, crashing to the ground, shards flying. And just as quickly as they appeared, they skulk back towards the red tear in the fabric of the planes, a few care free steps, and the creatures are gone, devil like smiles returning to the beyond.
The party stunned as they stare at Edward, at the destruction, imagining the consequences to come. Then suddenly...
The water erupts! The Aboleth surfacing onto the islands shore, tentacles flailing at no one in particular, toothy maw wide open. Oily, clawing blood coats much of its body with the wounds it has sustained. Edward weaves between his companions, palms glowing purple. His hands thrust forward one after the other as his eldritch magic beams forth. They strike the creature in the head, right in the mass of yellow eyes, two burst on impact as the creature gurgles in anguish, its eyes begin to swell as it thrashes around. The eyes slowly turn from yellow to bright blood red, swelling further from its skull. A spray of gore as the remaining eyes burst one by one. The last to burst is its large central eye, its body now limp, slumped against the island as its weight slowly drags it to the depths. The gorey socket where its central eye was a mere second ago produces something that slides out amongst the blood, dropping to the floor in front of the party.
The gargantuan aberration slips beneath the surface, one final time. And once more, they are alone in the depths.
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