Aeron burst through the doors with Syl, his sentient magical bow, nocked and ready, firing two arrows in rapid concession each of which fond their marks in lich’s shoulders, slamming him into the back of his throne and exploding with concussive blasts that all but severed his arms, leaving him unable to hurl the balls of cold fire that Elzabeth had warned them about and severely limiting the spells he could cast, as well as causing him to drop the blue-flame topped scepter which was rarely out of his grasp to clattered down the stairs of the dais and come to rest on the floor below. The witch had divulged that it was his phylactery, the repository of his vile soul, and the only way to truly destroy him. Although it hadn’t fallen far enough away to do him any harm, now out of his possession, it was vulnerable to direct attack. However, the lich wasn’t the only one effected by the blast of force, the young warrioress under his domination was thrown into the wall, crumpling beside the throne in an unconscious heap. Tarl charged past the ranger, howling a thunderous battle cry with his great axe held high but his eyes on the ground to avoid the lich’s pain inducing stare which Elzabeth had been warned them about. There was little chance he’d actually reach the lich, but he was only a diversion from the real danger. Meanwhile, Faeryl strode in holding her silver holy symbol prominently, calling upon her faith in Eilistraee to send out a wave of holy power that reduced the undead that lurked in the shadows about the chamber to dust. While Nykira stood by the drow priestess’s side, to defend her against any threats while she focused on her turning. However, it was Galen who posed the real threat. They’d devised a plan that would capitalize on the lich’s only real vulnerability… his phylactery. Regardless of any damage they did to him, as long as the repository of his soul remained, his body would regenerate over the course of a few days, but if the scepter was destroyed it would end his existence instantly. Targeting the unattended gold rod, the sorcerer sent a bolt of lightning crackling from the fingertips of one hand. As soon as the intruders burst into the chamber, A’mon Sol knew he’d been betrayed by Elzabeth, the thrall he’d dispatched to dispose of them when his goblinoid minions, undead vassals and golems had proven insufficient to the task. It’d been centuries since anyone had dared to enter the inner sanctum of his lichdom without his consent and years since he’d come under direct attack. Caught completely unprepared for such an assault, exhilarating sensations he hadn’t experienced in a millennium sent his desiccated heart racing; surprise and… fear! Knowing that his pet witch couldn’t take any direct action against him due to the geas he held her under, he’d deal with her after he dispatched these interlopers, who he had to admit seemed to have quite an ingenuous strategy. Pined to his throne, with his arms rendered useless, he couldn’t casting most offensive spells or use any of his direct means to attack them. Leaving him with only his pain inducing gaze, but they seemed prepared for that as well, looking at the ground to avoid eye contact. However, as effective as their tactics might be, he knew that regardless of what they did to his body he’d return in a few days and wreak horrific vengeance upon them all… especial the traitorous witch that he’d once spared. As the bolt of lightning arched across the chamber toward him, the netherese lich cackled with evil laughter as he was immune to such attacks, but the thought occurred to him too late that his attackers, who’d devised such an effective strategy, weren’t likely to make that mistake and he realized he wasn’t the target. The blue flamed shrouded gold rod which laid on the floor below his throne was reduced to molten slag as the bolt struck, and in that instant he felt the weight of seventeen centuries of unnatural existence crashed down upon him. ******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************* Disclaimer: Some of the material presented here may be the property of Wizards of the Coast, LLC© taken from the Dungeons & Dragons® Forgotten Realms® Campaign Setting authored by Ed Greenwood & Sean Renyolds, the Dungeons & Dragons® Forgotten Realms® Campaign Accessory Silver Marches® authored by Ed Greenwood and Jason Carl and/or other sourcebooks registered to Wizards of the Coast, LLC©. This is unofficial “Fan Content” permitted under Wizards of the Coast, LLC© Fan Content Policy, it is not approved or endorsed by Wizards of the Coast, LLC©.