The Albionic Chronicles Part 1

The Gang's All Here

The creature, undeterred, once again spewed its corrosive, aging fluid on Sylvester while jabbing its claws into him. Peridas, holstering and drawing his revolver over and over again, shot repeatedly missing every subsequent time, nearly exhausting his ammunition, until the gun exploded in his hand sending shards of hot metal around his feet. The armorsmith, undaunted, retreated to a safer position near Dusarris and Evelyn.

In a strategic move, Rosanna opted for a different wand from her bag, aiming to exploit the creature's weaknesses. A bolt of electricity crackled through the air, connecting with the creature and providing Sylvester with an opportunity. Drawing his Staff of Infestation, Sylvester shrouded himself and the creature in a thick swarm of insects, obscuring them from the view of the rest of the group.

Undeterred, the party unleashed a relentless assault on the obscured creature within the swarm - Bilo firing indiscriminately, Rosanna delivering another potent bolt, Dusarris casting flames, and Evelyn shooting another beam of radiant light. All their attacks found their mark as the creature emerged from the swarm, visibly damaged.

Sylvester, having stumbled out of the invisible area, cast another spell at the colossal foe. Simultaneously, Bilo emptied a chain of ammunition into its chest. The creature screamed in agony, writhing in pain before disappearing once more, leaving the party hopeful that they had vanquished their formidable adversary.

With the beast temporarily neutralized, the group pressed on, scaling the low-lying pile of bricks to reach the center of the city. However, their respite was short-lived, for as they crested the mound, a disconcerting sight awaited them - a large group of cultists gathered about a thousand feet away. Their journey was far from over, and a new challenge loomed on the horizon.

As the group's gaze fell upon the gathering of cultists, clad in dark robes that billowed ominously in the tainted air, a silent consensus spread through their ranks to steer clear of this potential threat. The looming shadows of the eighth floor window of the crumbling archmage's tower beckoned as their only refuge amidst the chaos below.

The ancient tower, once a beacon of magical prowess, now stood as a dilapidated relic of a bygone time that ended just hours ago. Its stone exterior, weathered by the calamity. Bilo, undeterred by the apparent lack of a straightforward ascent, felt the familiar surge of determination coursing through him. Cracking his knuckles with a quiet resolve, the tiefling decided to take matters into his own hands.

With nimble agility, he commenced his ascent, navigating the treacherous surface of the bastion. Loose bricks tumbled in his wake, echoing in the desolate silence of the once-majestic tower. The air was thick with danger and unease, and yet Bilo pressed on, driven by a relentless spirit.

Against the backdrop of falling debris and precarious footing, Bilo's climb was a testament to his unwavering tenacity. His enourmous frame moved with an uncanny grace, as if the tower itself recognized and yielded to his indomitable will.

Miraculously, Bilo reached the high window unscathed, standing as a lone silhouette against the fading light. The view from his elevated vantage point unveiled a city in ruins, a painting of devastation painted with the brushstrokes of chaos. The cultists below, continued their mysterious congregation.

The rest of the group, observing Bilo's ascent, felt a mixture of awe and relief as their tiefling companion defied the odds. The crumbling archmage's tower, once thought impassable, yielded to the perseverance of one determined adventurer.

As Bilo gracefully stepped through the high window, he found himself in an unexpected environment-a seemingly private chamber that defied the grandeur one might associate with an archmage's tower. The ambiance shifted from the dilapidated exterior to an oddly quaint interior resembling a private bathroom. At the room's center stood an incongruous toilet, surrounded by shelves adorned with an eclectic collection of books.

Intrigued, Bilo's discerning eyes scanned the titles in search of arcane tomes or ancient scrolls, hoping to uncover some hidden knowledge. However, to his mild disappointment, the shelves were filled not with esoteric grimoires but rather with a curious assortment of penny dreadfuls, suggesting the archmage's unexpected taste in literature.

While the tiefling contemplated the peculiar contents of the shelves, his attention was drawn to the window once more. Peering outside, he beheld a disconcerting sight-the cultists, having dispersed from their congregation, were leisurely making their way towards the party on the ground below. Their unhurried pace masked an ominous intent, sending a shiver down Bilo's spine.

Realizing the impending danger, Bilo swiftly formulated a plan to ensure the safety of his companions. With practiced efficiency, he lowered a length of sturdy rope from the window, the braided fibers dangling precariously above the city's tumultuous streets. His sharp eyes surveyed the scene below, gauging the cultists' movement with a strategic mindset.

Summoning his voice, Bilo called down to the rest of the party with urgency and authority, lowering a rope he yelled "Oi mates, might want to get op 'ere before them blokes get any closah". The tiefling's words echoed through the chamber, resonating with a blend of caution and determination. As the party members below scrambled to get up, they looked out the window and immediately understood the gravity of the situation and the need to retreat from the encroaching threat.