The party questioned the troglodyte farmer on the possible location of a grand mausoleum, and he agreed to guide them deeper into the Underdark. A divination revealed the lich standing before a gate to the Negative Energy Plane. The hunt for the lich began in earnest.
With the planar compass and an Underdark resident both pointing the way, the party had little trouble finding the gate’s location: a drow city seemingly created by surface-dwellers.
Knowing that they had little time to waste, the party broke through the city’s defenses and dashed down into the crypt. Graminea’s increasingly keen senses for magic detected vile spellcasting lower in the crypts, moments before the tomb erupted with a gale of blood. The lich was prepared, and the party had little choice but to rush to meet it.
Kerys broke down the door to the lich’s sanctum, forcing out the dark magic that sealed it. Through the dust, the party only caught a glimpse of their adversaries before battle began. The gate to the Negative Energy Plane was still open, and by the lich’s side there was a humanoid figure clad in full plate—a Sinker. The Sinker was wearing a familiar amulet that marked it as a commander and a dangerous fighter.
The battle was long, and fierce. Both sides unleashed a torrent of magic beyond most mortals, while Sahalquiel and Surosar engaged the Sinker in melee. Believing the amulet was the Sinker’s means of escape, the two worked in tandem to destroy the amulet while they dodged the brute’s swings.
Kerys empowered the essence of salt found within the lich’s bones, and drove out all of the other building blocks of life. “Nyaagh!” cried the lich, rasping as what was left of his vocal chords quickly calcified. “High sodium intake! You will rue the day you stood between me and my weight-loss goal!”
The lich froze in place, its flesh and bone both turned to salt. Caught in a statuesque pose, with its fists thrust towards the heavens in impotent frustration, the once-great necromancer became a monument to its own failure.
The Sinker soon fell, defeated but not dead. Stripping the brute of his grim armour, our heroes were shocked to find that he was an aasimar – a beauteous race of planestouched humanoids that tended to fight for the forces of Good.
The Sinker’s whole body was a nexus of wild, anarchic magic. So too was the amulet, which Sahalquiel proudly presented the shattered remains of. But among the unpredictable releases of wild magic there was a faint trace of teleportation keyed to a specific location. Dangerous though it may be, the party theorised that the amulet may lead them to the Sinker’s stronghold.
Drained from a protracted battle against the forces of Evil, the party decided to rest for the night. The Sinker was tied and bound, and the first watch for the night stood ready by the gate.
Kerys carefully propped the lich against the wall. As it was trapped in salt, neither truly alive nor dead, she hoped that the lich was prevented from reforming at his phylactery—for good.
“Curse you, Sinker, you brainless boob! And curse you, heroes! Some day I’ll have the power to destroy you! Some day!”