mickume/dnd_drow · Datasets at Hugging Face

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"You finally seem to be catching on," chuckled the necromancer. "When I have found you sufficiently undone, I'll send the rest of them outside to the gardens for fireworks, while I take what I must from you."
They continued in their circles around the room. He held one of her hands firmly, the other around her waist.
"You must think truly little of me, if you believe I'm to be rattled by a dance," laughed Aethelle.
"Not just a dance, dearest."
The wizard whispered an incantation, and the sorceress found herself overcome with weakness. She blinked madly, trying to regain her fortitude. He held her stable, still leading her amongst the floor. As she spun, she noticed Ryn and Astarion out of the corner of her periphery, their eyes suddenly narrowing in on the two of them concerningly.
"A curse?" Aethelle laughed. "I expected more from you, my Lord." She regained her footing as they danced. "And what have you cooked up with this spell?"
"A curse specifically for you," he smiled devilishly. "Do you remember the day we spent in the countryside together?"
Aethelle found herself laughing once more. "Do not tell me you think you can undo me with fleeting memories."
Suddenly the forefront of his mind became her own. She could see the pictures and images he thought of, as if it were her own mind. For a moment she thought he had a tadpole himself, but this sensation was different. No, there was no illithid tampering this time. His curse was forcing her to relive their happier times together, while she was trapped in a prison, waltzing on the ballroom floor.
Shadowheart put her drink down. "Gale, we need to dance, now," she said urgently.
"Don't tell me the drinks have gone to your head," replied Gale, in shock at her request.
"He's doing something. Come on," the cleric pulled the wizard to the floor, and they began their waltz, slowly making their way closer to their companion.
Aethelle felt her body moving through the waltz, guided by Torriel. In her mind she saw the two of them running through the meadow, laughing as they held hands. The vision was almost clear as day, as if she was there again herself. She saw Torriel pick her up and spin her around, before tumbling them both to the ground as they kissed. She saw his face inches from hers, as he whispered to her that he loved her for the very first time.
"Clever," the sorceress mustered to speak through the vision. "You seem to forget I do not care for you anymore, Torriel."
"Yet we loved each other, at one point. I know this vision must torment you. I know because it torments me as well," whispered the necromancer. "Do not tell me you have not spent the same nights I have, laying awake, wondering what would have happened if our parents were not there to interfere."
Suddenly the room became clear in Aethelle's vision again. Her eyes widened as she looked up into his pale grey eyes.
"I thought so," he murmured.
The vision continued in her mind. The two elves lay there in the grass of the meadow as they laughed and kissed. The skies were sunny, but were beginning to become overcast. As the rain sprinkled down on the two, they could only laugh harder as they became soaked in the meadow.
Aethelle’s heart ached. Of course she had spent night upon night wondering what could have been between them. Without the tampering of the cruel adults in their lives, Aethelle knew as well as Torriel that they would have been happy together, living in their fairytale amongst the patriars of Baldur’s Gate. Her mind raged against the vision, trying to break out of his control over her. No matter what they could have been, there was no changing the past.
The sorceress heard a familiar voice from behind her mutter an incantation, and suddenly she was ripped from the vision. It was so abrupt that both her and Torriel stumbled backwards, finally ending their dance. Out of the corner of Aethelle's eye, she saw the silver-haired cleric look away suddenly, trying to hide that she was the one who had removed the curse.
Torriel looked around suddenly, trying to spot the intruder to no avail. There were too many nobles on the dance floor, blocking his view of any suspicious persons. He looked back down at Aethelle, who was breathing heavily. She curtsied to him before quickly leaving the floor, making her way over to Ryn and Astarion.
"Lady Veluthezara," suddenly said a familiar voice. Blocking her path to her companions, the Marquess Vyrna stepped out in front of her. "How delightful to see you here, and with your new suitor as well."
"My apologies, Marquess," said Aethelle frantically as she curtsied. "I am unwell. Please do excuse me while I get some air." She began to walk away, before the tiefling grabbed her arm.
"He will kill you tonight, if you let him."
The sorceress's eyes grew wide.
"What are you—"
"My dear, I am more than just a gossip monger," whispered the Marquess. "Do you think me such a fool, after all these years? You must kill him."
"I..." Aethelle's voice was shaky.
"Kill him tonight. I will take care of the nobility here. Kill him, and you will finally be free."
"How do you... what should I do?" the sorceress asked, the alarm raising in her voice.
"Torture him like he has tortured you," smiled the Marquess, nodding towards Astarion. The tiefling gracefully walked away, starting up a conversation with another couple nearby.
Aethelle rushed over to her companions.
"Are you alright? What was that?" asked Ryn quickly.
"Are you hurt?" panicked Astarion.
"He... never mind him for a moment. The Marquess just told me to kill Torriel," panted the sorceress. "She knows and she’s with us. She said she’d take care of the patriars."
"Gods," said Ryn quietly.
"Did she say what we should do?" asked Astarion.
"I think so," the sorceress said. "We have to beat him at his own game."
"How?" the two men asked in unison.
"Dance with me," the sorceress said, taking Astarion's hand.
"Well, I certainly won't say no to that," replied the vampire.
"A dance? Why?" inquired Ryn, increasingly perplexed.
"Just trust me," she said, rushing her lover to the ballroom floor. She curtsied and he bowed as they began their waltz.
"What exactly do you have up your sleeve, my dear?" asked Astarion, his hand held tightly around her waist, not wanting to give her up again.
"He means to torment me with useless memories," said Aethelle. "But he's always been stuck in the past. Perhaps seeing a bit of the present will remind him of how things really are, now." She held Astarion tightly and squeezed his hand, looking up at him from behind her eyelashes.
"My dear," the rogue said as he leaned into her, their faces barely apart. "Presently, you are quite intoxicating to me."
"Astarion." The sorceress whispered his name longingly, their lips wanting to touch, despite knowing they could not.
"Oh, Aethelle." The vampire hissed through his fangs, barely containing his desperate need to kiss her.
They effortlessly move throughout the room, dancing as close as they could to the other. The heads of the other socialites began to turn at their waltz, entranced with the couple. As Ryn stood and watched, he heard a few nobles talking behind him.
"My word, I don't believe I've ever seen the Lady Veluthezara so taken with anyone," said the woman.
"Even more than Lord Zantharen, mama?" responded her daughter.
"Indeed. She never looked quite at him like that, the scandal!" exclaimed the mother. "When they didn't end up married, we were all so taken aback. It was the gossip of the Upper City for an entire season."
"I briefly remember," the daughter affirmed.
"We all thought there was something wrong with her, but then we found out her parents had passed quickly thereafter," the mother shook her head. "We all assumed the nuptials were ruined by the gruesome news. But she never went back to the Viscount."
"Perhaps this is why," giggled the daughter. "That silver-haired elf certainly seems taken with her! Maybe she the real Viscount isn’t as dashing as we think!"
"Oh my dear, hush," the mother began to chuckle. "Someone will hear you, though I do think you're onto something.
Ryn smiled into his champagne glass as he took a drink. He never ceased to be impressed with Aethelle. He watched her dance with the vampire, their eyes so taken with one another, drifting along the marble. All eyes were on the couple, as if they were the center of the party itself. It was a sight to see.
"My dear," began Astarion. "Perhaps we should use this time to return to a previous conversation," smiled the rogue.
"And what is that, my little star?"
"After you so graciously let me drink from your neck last night, and you settled into your trance, I may have snuck back down to the Lower City."
"What?" The sorceress's eyes grew wide. "Whatsoever for? The Steel Watch is dangerous, Astarion. If they caught you—"
"But they did not," interrupted the rogue. "And the matter was most pressing."
"What could be so pressing that you went there by yourself?"
"I spoke to Dammon," said Astarion as his breath hitched. "I had him make something for you."
"What?" The sorceress caught her breath.
"You still have a duty to appeal to high society, correct?" asked the rogue, looking at his lover with the gentlest eyes. "Just say the word, and it's yours."
"I—... you didn't."
"Oh, but I did." Astarion couldn't contain his smile.
"No, you didn't," laughed the sorceress, beaming. She shook her head in disbelief and bit her lip. As the dance on the floor ended, so did Astarion and Aethelle's waltz. The rogue bowed to her and the sorceress curtsied to him. They stood for a moment, utterly unaware of anyone else in the room. The clanking glasses and chatter became nothing more than a quiet drone. For a moment, to the two of them, no one else existed.
"I love you, Aethelle. More than I ever thought I could love someone." He swallowed. "And in a thousand years, when I've all but forgotten how to love yet again, you'll flit back into my heart, and I'll weep, remembering the love we once shared."
A tear ran down her face.
His breath grew shaky. "But I cannot go on, knowing you exist, and not be with you. It is worth being reminded for all of eternity of the time we spent together. It won't be my torment. It will be my greatest blessing, to have been loved by you so."
Aethelle couldn't find words to speak. She nodded, and held out her trembling hand to Astarion.
"Is that what I think it is?" Shadowheart grabbed onto Gale's arm and clenched it rather tightly, pointing at the two elves in the center of the room.
Gale beamed. "He did it, he really bloody did it."
Ryn, from his side of the ballroom, gasped in shock. He quickly wiped away a tear.
The Marquess smiled at the sight of the two, and couldn't help but laugh. "Fight fire with fire, I suppose," she whispered to herself, clutching the silver bird on her pendant. She eyed the Lord Zantharen, who was perched in a balcony looking down at the ballroom. His face twisted, and he hurriedly rushed off.
Astarion kneeled and slipped the black diamond around Aethelle's finger. The crowd of nobles clapped and gossiped and clanked their glasses at the revelation in front of them. But the two elves wouldn't have known, because to them, they were still the only ones in the room.
"Lord Zantharen wishes for you all to visit the gardens for the fireworks show," announced the footman. As the crowds of socialites dispersed, Marquess Vyrna subtly nodded at Aethelle, before making her way out of the grand brass doors. Only the companions were left in the ballroom.
"Did that really just happen?" asked Ryn excitedly, running over to the couple, as Gale and Shadowheart joined.
"I believe it did," replied Astarion as he pulled the sorceress in for a kiss that neither of them could stop smiling into. He picked her up and spun her around, Aethelle's laughter now filling the empty ballroom.
"You better show us the damned ring," said Gale impatiently. Aethelle obeyed and held out her hand towards him. "Gods, Dammon really does do a good job."
"You seem to have certainly had the intended effect," smirked Shadowheart, as the increasingly angry necromancer began walking towards them.
"Such a shame, that your nuptials will be interrupted with your impending funeral," yelled the wizard. He quickly said an incantation, and a ghostly hand swiped and clung to Shadowheart. She groaned in pain. "I see this is your cleric who so cleverly interrupted my curse!"
Aethelle and Gale, the two not constrained by a lack of weapons, said their incantations in return to the wizard's first move. Gale's bolt of fire met only air as the necromancer swiftly dodged, but he found himself moving straight into Aethelle's Eldritch Blast. He hissed as he took the forceful spell.
While the two spellcasters distracted the Viscount, Ryn ripped the bag of holding from beneath his tailcoat, and hurriedly began tossing the companions each their weapons. Astarion, now with his bow Gontr Mael, said a quick incantation and made himself invisible. Unseen to all the companions, he rushed to the edge of room, readying his next shot.
Shadowheart, still being clung to by the ghostly hand, said a prayer, and a beam of moonlight suddenly caught the Viscount. He yelped in pain and dodged out of the column of light.
"Enough!" roared Torriel. "I will have no more distractions! I will take your power once and for all, Aethelflaed!" With a move of his hand, four ghouls suddenly appeared in the room. They let out an otherworldly screech as the one nearest to Ryn swiped. He groaned as the undead easily drew blood to the unarmored paladin.
"You will take nothing from her!" shouted Ryn. In one swift motion, he raised his blade, and cleanly split the ghoul from its shoulder to its hip. The ghoul twitched as it hit the floor, blood pooling beneath it, until the body finally lay still. Ryn ran furiously at Torriel, who easily dodged the next swipe of Ryn's sword.
Aethelle let out a blast of lightning, shocking two ghouls nearby her, but not quite enough to kill them both. She dodged the claws of one, before another slashed at her, ripping her gown. Blood spilled from her waist. She gripped her side in pain.
Gale, nearby Aethelle, let out a Thunder Wave, pushing the two ghouls backwards. One happened to end up close to Shadowheart, who drove her spear through the creature's chest. As she removed her spear from its body, she ran over to Ryn, ready to face the necromancer headfirst.
Suddenly, an arrow shot from the back of the room, and Torriel grunted in pain as it ripped the flesh from his cheek. The remaining unharmed ghoul, now able to see the uncloaked rogue, sprinted at Astarion. As the ghoul swiped at him, Astarion deftly evaded its claws.
Torriel, fixing his eyes on the rogue, unleashed the chain of lightning upon him, causing Astarion to keel over in pain. Wayward lightning bolts struck Gale and Aethelle. Though Aethelle was resistant to her own magic, Gale was not so fortunate, and he yelped at the burning of the lightning.
As Ryn held his sword to the sky, light imbuing his weapon, he brought the sword down on top of Torriel in a blind rage. The necromancer was able to throw himself out of the way of the sword at the last second, but was not ready for the paladin's next smite. The sword embedded itself in Torriel's shoulder, and as Ryn pulled the sword away, the necromancer screamed as blood poured down his arm.
Shadowheart pierced the Torriel's leg with her spear, causing him to crumble down in pain. As she ripped the spear out, she uttered a prayer, and sent a blast of healing energy throughout the room for her companions.
As Aethelle felt the wound in her side close, she let out another lightning blast, this time directed at the ghoul next to Astarion. Gale followed suit, firing another Fire Bolt at the ghoul he had pushed backwards, causing it to flail in pain as its body burned, before finally hitting the ground with a thud.
Astarion took the opportunity to strike at the ghoul near him with his dagger. The ghoul, still reeling from the lightning blast, did not see the rogue's attack. The steel pierced its heart before slumping over. Astarion cleanly removed his dagger, and kicked the body to the ground.
"You cannot win!" shouted Torriel. "You are only delaying the inevitable!" He gripped Ryn with a shadow-wreathed hand, siphoning his life. As Ryn grunted in pain, the necromancer's wound on his shoulder and thigh closed. Torriel laughed wickedly as he dodged both of Ryn's smites. Shadowheart attempted to stab the wizard again, but Torriel pirouetted easily out of the spear's strike.
"Enough of this, Torriel!" raged the sorceress. She hurled not one, but two fireballs down upon the necromancer. He quickly rolled out of the way, but felt the fire prick his legs. Torriel looked down to see the fabric of his pants singed, sticking to his burnt flesh. In the necromancer's distraction, Gale shattered the ground beneath Torriel, causing him to stumble over. Astarion, not anticipating the necromancer to fall, shot the arrow that was aimed for Torriel’s chest actually into his arm.
"Did you really think," panted Torriel, "That you could kill someone who rules over death itself?" He raised himself from the ground and held out his hands, blasting red energy from them. Suddenly, the companions found themselves a prisoner to time itself, barely able to move or react. Ryn brought down another slash, but it was so slow in comparison to the wizard's dexterity, that Torriel barely had to avoid it. Shadowheart, the only one who was able to shake off the spell, frantically tried to cast Sanctuary on the frozen Aethelle, but was counterspelled by the necromancer. The counter was so powerful, it sent the cleric stumbling backwards.

"You finally seem to be catching on," chuckled the necromancer. "When I have found you sufficiently undone, I'll send the rest of them outside to the gardens for fireworks, while I take what I must from you."

They continued in their circles around the room. He held one of her hands firmly, the other around her waist.

"You must think truly little of me, if you believe I'm to be rattled by a dance," laughed Aethelle.

"Not just a dance, dearest."

The wizard whispered an incantation, and the sorceress found herself overcome with weakness. She blinked madly, trying to regain her fortitude. He held her stable, still leading her amongst the floor. As she spun, she noticed Ryn and Astarion out of the corner of her periphery, their eyes suddenly narrowing in on the two of them concerningly.

"A curse?" Aethelle laughed. "I expected more from you, my Lord." She regained her footing as they danced. "And what have you cooked up with this spell?"

"A curse specifically for you," he smiled devilishly. "Do you remember the day we spent in the countryside together?"

Aethelle found herself laughing once more. "Do not tell me you think you can undo me with fleeting memories."

Suddenly the forefront of his mind became her own. She could see the pictures and images he thought of, as if it were her own mind. For a moment she thought he had a tadpole himself, but this sensation was different. No, there was no illithid tampering this time. His curse was forcing her to relive their happier times together, while she was trapped in a prison, waltzing on the ballroom floor.

Shadowheart put her drink down. "Gale, we need to dance, now," she said urgently.

"Don't tell me the drinks have gone to your head," replied Gale, in shock at her request.

"He's doing something. Come on," the cleric pulled the wizard to the floor, and they began their waltz, slowly making their way closer to their companion.

Aethelle felt her body moving through the waltz, guided by Torriel. In her mind she saw the two of them running through the meadow, laughing as they held hands. The vision was almost clear as day, as if she was there again herself. She saw Torriel pick her up and spin her around, before tumbling them both to the ground as they kissed. She saw his face inches from hers, as he whispered to her that he loved her for the very first time.

"Clever," the sorceress mustered to speak through the vision. "You seem to forget I do not care for you anymore, Torriel."

"Yet we loved each other, at one point. I know this vision must torment you. I know because it torments me as well," whispered the necromancer. "Do not tell me you have not spent the same nights I have, laying awake, wondering what would have happened if our parents were not there to interfere."

Suddenly the room became clear in Aethelle's vision again. Her eyes widened as she looked up into his pale grey eyes.

"I thought so," he murmured.

The vision continued in her mind. The two elves lay there in the grass of the meadow as they laughed and kissed. The skies were sunny, but were beginning to become overcast. As the rain sprinkled down on the two, they could only laugh harder as they became soaked in the meadow.

Aethelle’s heart ached. Of course she had spent night upon night wondering what could have been between them. Without the tampering of the cruel adults in their lives, Aethelle knew as well as Torriel that they would have been happy together, living in their fairytale amongst the patriars of Baldur’s Gate. Her mind raged against the vision, trying to break out of his control over her. No matter what they could have been, there was no changing the past.

The sorceress heard a familiar voice from behind her mutter an incantation, and suddenly she was ripped from the vision. It was so abrupt that both her and Torriel stumbled backwards, finally ending their dance. Out of the corner of Aethelle's eye, she saw the silver-haired cleric look away suddenly, trying to hide that she was the one who had removed the curse.

Torriel looked around suddenly, trying to spot the intruder to no avail. There were too many nobles on the dance floor, blocking his view of any suspicious persons. He looked back down at Aethelle, who was breathing heavily. She curtsied to him before quickly leaving the floor, making her way over to Ryn and Astarion.

"Lady Veluthezara," suddenly said a familiar voice. Blocking her path to her companions, the Marquess Vyrna stepped out in front of her. "How delightful to see you here, and with your new suitor as well."

"My apologies, Marquess," said Aethelle frantically as she curtsied. "I am unwell. Please do excuse me while I get some air." She began to walk away, before the tiefling grabbed her arm.

"He will kill you tonight, if you let him."

The sorceress's eyes grew wide.

"What are you—"

"My dear, I am more than just a gossip monger," whispered the Marquess. "Do you think me such a fool, after all these years? You must kill him."

"I..." Aethelle's voice was shaky.

"Kill him tonight. I will take care of the nobility here. Kill him, and you will finally be free."

"How do you... what should I do?" the sorceress asked, the alarm raising in her voice.

"Torture him like he has tortured you," smiled the Marquess, nodding towards Astarion. The tiefling gracefully walked away, starting up a conversation with another couple nearby.

Aethelle rushed over to her companions.

"Are you alright? What was that?" asked Ryn quickly.

"Are you hurt?" panicked Astarion.

"He... never mind him for a moment. The Marquess just told me to kill Torriel," panted the sorceress. "She knows and she’s with us. She said she’d take care of the patriars."

"Gods," said Ryn quietly.

"Did she say what we should do?" asked Astarion.

"I think so," the sorceress said. "We have to beat him at his own game."

"How?" the two men asked in unison.

"Dance with me," the sorceress said, taking Astarion's hand.

"Well, I certainly won't say no to that," replied the vampire.

"A dance? Why?" inquired Ryn, increasingly perplexed.

"Just trust me," she said, rushing her lover to the ballroom floor. She curtsied and he bowed as they began their waltz.

"What exactly do you have up your sleeve, my dear?" asked Astarion, his hand held tightly around her waist, not wanting to give her up again.

"He means to torment me with useless memories," said Aethelle. "But he's always been stuck in the past. Perhaps seeing a bit of the present will remind him of how things really are, now." She held Astarion tightly and squeezed his hand, looking up at him from behind her eyelashes.

"My dear," the rogue said as he leaned into her, their faces barely apart. "Presently, you are quite intoxicating to me."

"Astarion." The sorceress whispered his name longingly, their lips wanting to touch, despite knowing they could not.

"Oh, Aethelle." The vampire hissed through his fangs, barely containing his desperate need to kiss her.

They effortlessly move throughout the room, dancing as close as they could to the other. The heads of the other socialites began to turn at their waltz, entranced with the couple. As Ryn stood and watched, he heard a few nobles talking behind him.

"My word, I don't believe I've ever seen the Lady Veluthezara so taken with anyone," said the woman.

"Even more than Lord Zantharen, mama?" responded her daughter.

"Indeed. She never looked quite at him like that, the scandal!" exclaimed the mother. "When they didn't end up married, we were all so taken aback. It was the gossip of the Upper City for an entire season."

"I briefly remember," the daughter affirmed.

"We all thought there was something wrong with her, but then we found out her parents had passed quickly thereafter," the mother shook her head. "We all assumed the nuptials were ruined by the gruesome news. But she never went back to the Viscount."

"Perhaps this is why," giggled the daughter. "That silver-haired elf certainly seems taken with her! Maybe she the real Viscount isn’t as dashing as we think!"

"Oh my dear, hush," the mother began to chuckle. "Someone will hear you, though I do think you're onto something.

Ryn smiled into his champagne glass as he took a drink. He never ceased to be impressed with Aethelle. He watched her dance with the vampire, their eyes so taken with one another, drifting along the marble. All eyes were on the couple, as if they were the center of the party itself. It was a sight to see.

"My dear," began Astarion. "Perhaps we should use this time to return to a previous conversation," smiled the rogue.

"And what is that, my little star?"

"After you so graciously let me drink from your neck last night, and you settled into your trance, I may have snuck back down to the Lower City."

"What?" The sorceress's eyes grew wide. "Whatsoever for? The Steel Watch is dangerous, Astarion. If they caught you—"

"But they did not," interrupted the rogue. "And the matter was most pressing."

"What could be so pressing that you went there by yourself?"

"I spoke to Dammon," said Astarion as his breath hitched. "I had him make something for you."

"What?" The sorceress caught her breath.

"You still have a duty to appeal to high society, correct?" asked the rogue, looking at his lover with the gentlest eyes. "Just say the word, and it's yours."

"I—... you didn't."

"Oh, but I did." Astarion couldn't contain his smile.

"No, you didn't," laughed the sorceress, beaming. She shook her head in disbelief and bit her lip. As the dance on the floor ended, so did Astarion and Aethelle's waltz. The rogue bowed to her and the sorceress curtsied to him. They stood for a moment, utterly unaware of anyone else in the room. The clanking glasses and chatter became nothing more than a quiet drone. For a moment, to the two of them, no one else existed.

"I love you, Aethelle. More than I ever thought I could love someone." He swallowed. "And in a thousand years, when I've all but forgotten how to love yet again, you'll flit back into my heart, and I'll weep, remembering the love we once shared."

A tear ran down her face.

His breath grew shaky. "But I cannot go on, knowing you exist, and not be with you. It is worth being reminded for all of eternity of the time we spent together. It won't be my torment. It will be my greatest blessing, to have been loved by you so."

Aethelle couldn't find words to speak. She nodded, and held out her trembling hand to Astarion.

"Is that what I think it is?" Shadowheart grabbed onto Gale's arm and clenched it rather tightly, pointing at the two elves in the center of the room.

Gale beamed. "He did it, he really bloody did it."

Ryn, from his side of the ballroom, gasped in shock. He quickly wiped away a tear.

The Marquess smiled at the sight of the two, and couldn't help but laugh. "Fight fire with fire, I suppose," she whispered to herself, clutching the silver bird on her pendant. She eyed the Lord Zantharen, who was perched in a balcony looking down at the ballroom. His face twisted, and he hurriedly rushed off.

Astarion kneeled and slipped the black diamond around Aethelle's finger. The crowd of nobles clapped and gossiped and clanked their glasses at the revelation in front of them. But the two elves wouldn't have known, because to them, they were still the only ones in the room.

"Lord Zantharen wishes for you all to visit the gardens for the fireworks show," announced the footman. As the crowds of socialites dispersed, Marquess Vyrna subtly nodded at Aethelle, before making her way out of the grand brass doors. Only the companions were left in the ballroom.

"Did that really just happen?" asked Ryn excitedly, running over to the couple, as Gale and Shadowheart joined.

"I believe it did," replied Astarion as he pulled the sorceress in for a kiss that neither of them could stop smiling into. He picked her up and spun her around, Aethelle's laughter now filling the empty ballroom.

"You better show us the damned ring," said Gale impatiently. Aethelle obeyed and held out her hand towards him. "Gods, Dammon really does do a good job."

"You seem to have certainly had the intended effect," smirked Shadowheart, as the increasingly angry necromancer began walking towards them.

"Such a shame, that your nuptials will be interrupted with your impending funeral," yelled the wizard. He quickly said an incantation, and a ghostly hand swiped and clung to Shadowheart. She groaned in pain. "I see this is your cleric who so cleverly interrupted my curse!"

Aethelle and Gale, the two not constrained by a lack of weapons, said their incantations in return to the wizard's first move. Gale's bolt of fire met only air as the necromancer swiftly dodged, but he found himself moving straight into Aethelle's Eldritch Blast. He hissed as he took the forceful spell.

While the two spellcasters distracted the Viscount, Ryn ripped the bag of holding from beneath his tailcoat, and hurriedly began tossing the companions each their weapons. Astarion, now with his bow Gontr Mael, said a quick incantation and made himself invisible. Unseen to all the companions, he rushed to the edge of room, readying his next shot.

Shadowheart, still being clung to by the ghostly hand, said a prayer, and a beam of moonlight suddenly caught the Viscount. He yelped in pain and dodged out of the column of light.

"Enough!" roared Torriel. "I will have no more distractions! I will take your power once and for all, Aethelflaed!" With a move of his hand, four ghouls suddenly appeared in the room. They let out an otherworldly screech as the one nearest to Ryn swiped. He groaned as the undead easily drew blood to the unarmored paladin.

"You will take nothing from her!" shouted Ryn. In one swift motion, he raised his blade, and cleanly split the ghoul from its shoulder to its hip. The ghoul twitched as it hit the floor, blood pooling beneath it, until the body finally lay still. Ryn ran furiously at Torriel, who easily dodged the next swipe of Ryn's sword.

Aethelle let out a blast of lightning, shocking two ghouls nearby her, but not quite enough to kill them both. She dodged the claws of one, before another slashed at her, ripping her gown. Blood spilled from her waist. She gripped her side in pain.

Gale, nearby Aethelle, let out a Thunder Wave, pushing the two ghouls backwards. One happened to end up close to Shadowheart, who drove her spear through the creature's chest. As she removed her spear from its body, she ran over to Ryn, ready to face the necromancer headfirst.

Suddenly, an arrow shot from the back of the room, and Torriel grunted in pain as it ripped the flesh from his cheek. The remaining unharmed ghoul, now able to see the uncloaked rogue, sprinted at Astarion. As the ghoul swiped at him, Astarion deftly evaded its claws.

Torriel, fixing his eyes on the rogue, unleashed the chain of lightning upon him, causing Astarion to keel over in pain. Wayward lightning bolts struck Gale and Aethelle. Though Aethelle was resistant to her own magic, Gale was not so fortunate, and he yelped at the burning of the lightning.

As Ryn held his sword to the sky, light imbuing his weapon, he brought the sword down on top of Torriel in a blind rage. The necromancer was able to throw himself out of the way of the sword at the last second, but was not ready for the paladin's next smite. The sword embedded itself in Torriel's shoulder, and as Ryn pulled the sword away, the necromancer screamed as blood poured down his arm.

Shadowheart pierced the Torriel's leg with her spear, causing him to crumble down in pain. As she ripped the spear out, she uttered a prayer, and sent a blast of healing energy throughout the room for her companions.

As Aethelle felt the wound in her side close, she let out another lightning blast, this time directed at the ghoul next to Astarion. Gale followed suit, firing another Fire Bolt at the ghoul he had pushed backwards, causing it to flail in pain as its body burned, before finally hitting the ground with a thud.

Astarion took the opportunity to strike at the ghoul near him with his dagger. The ghoul, still reeling from the lightning blast, did not see the rogue's attack. The steel pierced its heart before slumping over. Astarion cleanly removed his dagger, and kicked the body to the ground.

"You cannot win!" shouted Torriel. "You are only delaying the inevitable!" He gripped Ryn with a shadow-wreathed hand, siphoning his life. As Ryn grunted in pain, the necromancer's wound on his shoulder and thigh closed. Torriel laughed wickedly as he dodged both of Ryn's smites. Shadowheart attempted to stab the wizard again, but Torriel pirouetted easily out of the spear's strike.

"Enough of this, Torriel!" raged the sorceress. She hurled not one, but two fireballs down upon the necromancer. He quickly rolled out of the way, but felt the fire prick his legs. Torriel looked down to see the fabric of his pants singed, sticking to his burnt flesh. In the necromancer's distraction, Gale shattered the ground beneath Torriel, causing him to stumble over. Astarion, not anticipating the necromancer to fall, shot the arrow that was aimed for Torriel’s chest actually into his arm.

"Did you really think," panted Torriel, "That you could kill someone who rules over death itself?" He raised himself from the ground and held out his hands, blasting red energy from them. Suddenly, the companions found themselves a prisoner to time itself, barely able to move or react. Ryn brought down another slash, but it was so slow in comparison to the wizard's dexterity, that Torriel barely had to avoid it. Shadowheart, the only one who was able to shake off the spell, frantically tried to cast Sanctuary on the frozen Aethelle, but was counterspelled by the necromancer. The counter was so powerful, it sent the cleric stumbling backwards.