Flashes of runic cerulean light sparked and sputtered as the arcane connections that fueled the room were unlinked by the powers of might and magic — swift secure hatchet-blows across key runes and whispered dark curses unweaving threads of the “Great Binding.” Darkness fell, but soon the bright flare and hiss of a Sunrod’s golden alchemical light showed the party grimly facing each other in a tight circle around the central spire of the Chamber of Horrors. They silently bandaged their wounds and Feral pried a trap door open in the middle of the floor. Loud crunching booms and spiraling cracks began to appear at the entrance to the Chamber, leaving them little time to pause and catch their breaths.
A hulking mailed-fist burst through the obsidian stone as if it were baked clay and the rest of the wall tumbled down revealing the malevolent abyssal demon-soldiers flanking their Atholan commander, Sulimak.
Barely a nod was exchanged and they all leapt into action, moving as finely tuned machinery of adventuring action.