It wasn’t just the uphill climb that provided them difficulty, it was the hidden fumaroles, minor quakes of buried hordes of undead moving the rock underneath their feet and the biting cold that occurred as they reached a certain height.

“You…” A deep cough interrupted Patrik’s question, “sure this is the best path?” He continued. So far they had been mostly able to avoid the fumaroles but Patrik had gotten hit square in the face by one suddenly venting. They were hidden under the loose rubble only quick reactions and Lixiss healing hands stopped them from dropping like flies, but Lixiss rapidly running out of the energy that allowed those feats of healing was apprehensive on using it; definitely on the rookies. Lixiss had an inner warmth to her that prevented her from feeling the cold it seemed, Gadraek and Gileon transformed into bear and boar respectively to combat the cold and the harsh climb. Most of their mounts had died due to fumaroles at this point, the few that remained carried Patrik and Eira. Agazuul had been forced to do the harsh climb himself as his fire wolf could not handle the cold, Carl had gotten another chance to be seated on Lixiss and eagerly took it. For a man who got killed he’s surprisingly comfortable with his killer. Agazuul often wondered what went on in Carl’s head.

It was easy to lose hope in Tartarus, easy to get lost in the seeming endlessness of every challenge; each obstacle provided the traveler with nigh-infinite excuses to give up and lay down to accept fate. Agazuul pondered if that was truly because of what they faced or if this place could creep into one's head altering their experience. Patrik’s condition turned to a harsh hacking cough; each one more desperate to remove the poison from his lungs.

“Eira…don’t…forget…our…stories…” He pleaded and for a moment as Patrik collapsed that seemed to be it.

“Save him, please…I know you still got it in you!” Eira pleaded with Lixiss but she just looked miffed. Patrik got up eventually leaning on his two-hander. They reached the ridge and before them stretched an almost white beige desert. As the sand hit Agazuul’s face with a gust of wind, he realized this wasn’t sand at all.

“Howling windstorms scream with the cries of lost undead, forever bound to the desolate wasteland.” Agazuul quoted.

“This is the Asphodel desert, a desert made entirely of bone.” He declared.

“Fantastic, just great. Really great, yeah just what we needed.” Eira said, trying to lean on his sarcasm instead of thinking about the condition Patrik was in.

“So…we’ve…made…it.” Patrik said, leaning on the boar that was Gileon who was supporting him. Patrik gazed out to the desert.

“We’ve made it.” Patrik said, trying to sound strong without a single cough interrupting his words, pointing out towards a shape in the middle of the desert.

“His castle is not of stone, crystal or metal but of bone; the bones of giants, titans and gods. It seems to scream: ‘throw your stones for they shall be the bricks with which I lay my empire.’ It is a trophy as much as a fortress. Corpyx, the necropoli housing one.” Agazuul quoted. Patrik fell and rolled down the mountain towards the desert. It took a moment for the group to realize but another had fallen on their journey.

“You could have saved him!” Eira said accusingly to Lixiss.

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“And it could’ve cost us a chance of victory, you keep forgetting why we are here, Eira. We’re not here to find a way out, we came here to kill a god or die trying.” Lixiss answered, her tone brooked no argument. A hundred down to one, the cost seemed astronomical. So far none had even laid a hand on Orcus himself. Ninety-five lives had been given to the cause; Agazuul could only hope none were lost on the way back to Rastaytan. Agazuul looked at the product of a wish expressed at council, a person who hated the trio she came to fight along with. Upon the desert roamed hordes of skeletons their numbers were in the hundreds so easy to see from a distance but there were other things; things underneath the sand moving them and strange boatmen on sand sailors traversing the desert. Agazuul hoped he could pay whatever cost they required.

They made their way down into the desert basin breathing in wind knocked bone dust, before long their noses and throat were scraped raw. Most were on foot and all were tired, trying to find strength to carry on; whatever supplies they had on them had long since ran out. They were so close now, they almost had it in their grasp. The things underneath the sands moved towards them at a rapid pace, still about two hundred meters away from the nearest boatsman. There was a small island in the bone sea; a giant skull peeking up above the bone meal. They all make a run for it, Gadraek hacking off the legs of the last three spiders hoping that a possible meal will give whatever is coming their way a small bit of pause. He didn’t hesitate, because it doesn’t even compare to what I’ve done. It did give them some time, maybe it was but a fraction of a second but as they ran towards the skull the boatsman made its way to them; maybe that fraction would be all they needed. The creature was bone white as its scaled crested above the bone meal almost blending in with the environment; Carl sent forth his burgundy blasts knocking the creature back even causing it to stop to roar in frustration. As Lixiss quickly scaled the skull she flung up Gileon, Gadraek and Eira. Carl kept blasting at the creature keeping it back. Agazuul signaled to the boatsman best he could. As it came close, Agazuul heard within his mind;

“What can you give, are you willing to pay the price of passage?”

“What is the price?” Agazuul shouted back.

“One soul.” Agazuul heard within his mind, the figure was too far to see still. Not another, not after all this. A hundred came and none made it. Agazuul thought despairingly.

“We can pay the price!” Lixiss shouted. The message was not for Agazuul’s mind only. The strange boatsman came closer. A robed person who hid its face stretched out a bony hand towards Lixiss who had come down from the skull next to Agazuul; out of a secret pocket came a small bottle.

“Just in case.” She said to Agazuul who hadn’t dared ask the question. The robed figure closed its bony fingers around the bottle and it disappeared underneath its robe, beckoning all to come onto its sand sailor. Carl was immensely focused, the creature had been held back perfectly thus far even being pushed back further than last Agazuul looked at it. It had a mouth of a thousand daggers; a bone burrower the size of a castle tower. Carl seeing the new situation dashed towards the sand sailor allowing the creature to almost catch up to him; but as soon as he had a new vantage point he kept the thing at bay not allowing it to close the gap. As soon as there was a decent distance between the sailor and the burrower the boatsman conjured up a gust of wind making the sand sailor gain incredible speed.

As they came close to the fortress they were met by a strange sight. A myriad of demons lay dead; demons of all kinds and all sizes. The violent bone meal winds had already started scraping away much of the flesh of these recently slain demons. They disembarked to take a closer look. Agazuul in particular went to inspect what had occurred here exactly. Each bore the mark of Orcus, these powerful demons were hard to defeat on their own but to defeat them when they were together seemed a nigh impossible feat. There remained a faint remnant around the torn skin indicating a strong acid was applied to these sword wounds.

“What happened here…” Lixiss asked, seemingly unsure if she’d want the answer.

“Someone beat us to it.”