Chapter 10: The City of Spiders

Demogorgon.

Prince of Demons.

Within ten feet.

"Bye!" Ælfric intoned, disappeared in a silvery mist, reappeared thirty feet further away from the Master of the Spiraling Depths in a similar mist, and ran even further away. One hand held Lucky Strike, his shortsword, while the other pulled off one of the six shining stars from his cloak's collar and threw it at the Sibilant Beast. In midair, the star split into seven blinding stars which all slammed forcefully into Demogorgon's simian chest!

Elayna's vision blurs as the demon lord draws ever near. Her senses have been thrown into oblivion as she feels the raw power of the Abyss wash over her like crashing waves. Fighting back her tears and grasping at whatever shred of sanity remains, she screams in anguish as she retreats.

Sick with dread, Seftan's first instinct is to run. He bolts about 30 feet and then remembers that there is no escape from the Prince of Demons. Turning on his heel and choking back vomit, Seftan somehow manages to recall the words to his best spell...

Ælfric didn't shriek when the demon lord gave him the evil eye. He was too terrified to take in the breath necessary.

Seeing Demogorgon's reaction to Seftan's spell, Hunter decides to follow suit. She throws her magical power into severing the Sibilant Beast's tether to the Material Plane and banishing it to the Abyss.

She is keenly aware of how close she is to the demon lord, and takes a chance to try and put some distance between them.

As the horrifying baboon-like head of the hulking abomination turns to face the wizard, Seftan's vision constricts suddenly and the world slips away from him...

There was no time.

The Demon Lord would shrug off their mightiest spells, freeze their minds in terror, and tentacle them to death. Ælfric was no great wizard. He stole from great wizards. He also recently stole something interesting from a great demon prince.

There was no time to construct a flawless working of logic, to weave a magical legality fit to make djinn weep, all he could do was speak his heart's desire and hope he'd earned enough good karma so Fate was inclined in his favour.

Ælfric eyed the single remaining opalescent jewel in his shortsword, smiled, and said in a calm, clear, commanding, and hopefully not cringy voice, "I wish that Demogorgon would be sent back to The Abyss now to never hurt us and anyone else ever again."

"Don't know if this will work, but I'll try," Elayna says, mostly to herself. She then shouts at Demogorgon, "Hey ugly! Why don't you look at yourself once in a while?!"

Against all his better judgement, Seftan forces his legs to take three steps closer to the lord of madness, just close enough to be in range of his next spell. Drawing the silver dagger from his belt, Seftan stutters the words of force magic that would send a steel wind of pure energy ripping towards the abomination...

Ælfric's mouth hung open for long seconds before he remembered how to make coherent throat sounds. Ironically, he stopped himself from saying the first thing that came to his mind.

"No, don't jinx it," he said lowly then added normally to the others after he rushed to them, "Heal up quick and find our boss! I wished for the demon lord to be sent back home and never hurt anyone again... but I don't know how long even that powerful a spell will hold!"

Ælfric looked at his shortsword. Lucky Strike had no more opalescent gems gleaming but it was still a mighty luck-bending blade.

Had Vizeran double-crossed them? One always had to expect that with archmages and Drow, and a Drow archmage was especially suspect, but Ælfric didn't think Vizeran would have risked it with something this apocalyptic at stake. What would he gain by leaving his team to die at the tentacles of Demogorgon? Was something else happening here? Misdirection was also to be expected from Drow and archmages. Ælfric followed his own advise and looked around for signs mundane and magical of their benefactor.

From inside the small crater made by Demogorgon's tentacle, Hunter lies on her back. "It's over? Seems too quick to be over."

After slowing the insane thrum of his heart, Seftan smooths down his robes and takes a deep breath.

"Well done as usual old chum," he says to Ælfric with a quaver in his voice.

Seftan slowly approaches the dropped Wand of Orcus, not daring to fully approach the thing, certainly not to touch it.

"Do you have any idea what this is?" he asks of no one in particular.

"This has the ability to slay lesser gods. We cannot leave it here and yet neither can we touch it."

"I will take it," says Hunter, slowly lifting herself to a seated position. She extends her hand, and a copy of it forms near the wand to remotely grasp and bring to her. Hunter's Bag of Holding is opened to receive the evil device. "I'm sure the rulers of Silverymoon will know what to do, or even Lord Battlehammer might have the means to destroy it."

Hunter smirks. "Did you win your bet?" she asks.

"Bet?" Ælfric asked as he looked around to see what he could salvage off this blasted battlefield before he hightailed it away from anything demonic or Drow or any combination thereof.

"And that son of a witch really left us here to die?! Oooooh! I'm going to rob him blind!"