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"Interesting. That sounds.....incredibly dangerous. If he's awake, I might be able to talk to him long enough for you to escape." He spins his scythe, and examines the golden scepter. He turns his gaze to the piles of bones, and his eyes blaze. He twitches involuntarily, his aura flaring for a moment. "So....much power....." He seems almost intoxicated by the sheer amount of necrotic power in the tomb. "We should keep moving. Before he senses my aura." He looks down at the smooth floor. "Polybius must be a great mage indeed. Freezing time like this....he hasn't aged a day. He still remembers everything from his rule." He begins moving down the passageway.
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Two sources elemental . . . Mardex slumped and rested a talon on his snout. Riddles were not his strength. He was a soldier, damn it all. He had not a head for flowery language or . . . whatever this was. He wracked his brain, trying to find an answer. All the time, the mage's eyes watched him, steady as an eagle and double as predatory. He began to ramble, piecing his knowledge together in a stream of barely coherent phrases.

"Two sources elemental . . . fire? Earth? Fire and earth . . . " he mused. It sounded about right. "Chore is ore, aim is flame . . . metal. The metal itself, or a metallurgist . . . so what do I hope to gain?" He readied his answer, expecting the worst. "Strength. The strength found within metal, both firm and yielding. The riddle is about a blacksmith, is it not?"
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He claps slowly. "Congratulations. You figured out my riddle. You did well." His burning eyes flick around the tavern. "It's about me. There's more in the riddle then my job." He chuckles. "Would you like a demonstration of my work Mardex? I'm the best blacksmith on this continent, and I can guarantee that. I'm....special." He stands, waving a talon to Mardex. "Come see for yourself what it is you have to gain." He sets aside his empty tankard, and begins walking out of the tavern, heading back to his forge.
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Ophion smiled at the wraith's words. "Powerful as he is, I'm sure he hasn't caught up to where the magical arts have developed in the past several millennia. I'm at least as representative of a powerful wizard now as he was back in his time. I suppose we shall see whether the much vaunted ancient spells still stand up to those of today. If nothing else, this will be a fascinating look back into the practice of magic as it was in our species' earlier days."

They moved down the passage, which much resembled the one they had entered, although this one was fresher and cleaner, as if being actively maintained. Which of course, it was. Around the first corner, the two of them spotted another draconic skeleton, armed only with a broom.
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He nods at Ophion's comment. "Many magical secrets have been lost or forgotten over the millennia. He's sure to know some magics that the world has forgotten. How many mages do you know today that can freeze a entire labyrinth in time?" He studies the walls, and runs his hand across the stone. "Has anything ever come out of the tomb before the raid?" He stops, and watches the janitor. He moves in front of Ophion, and inclines his helmet to the skeleton. "Where might I find your master, cleaner?" He glances at Ophion, and looks back at the minor undead, his glowing eyes fixed on the skeletons eye sockets.
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"Well, I do have a time-frozen room in my shop. Useful for preserving otherwise perishable goods" Ophion commented, trying not to sound too proud of himself. "A few beings have come out of this tomb, and yet the was something odd about them, as if they weren't really from Polybius' time. For one thing, fully developed iron golems have been known to pop out from here, and yet those weren't invented for another several centuries, at least, not in these lands. It's possible that Polybius' tomb is somehow connected to a newer and possibly much larger dungeon, but I don't really have much of a clue as to what that second dungeon might be."

He paused as the wraith spoke to the skeleton. To the dracon's surprise, the bony janitor pointed down the leftmost hallway, a long corridor leading them straight into the shadows.
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"Thank you. As you were." He inclines his helmet to the skeleton, and begins floating down the hall. "How do you freeze time? That sounds like a very useful skill. If I had it......I could have spared many innocent lives." He sighs, the sound echoing in his helmet. "Just because Polybius is stuck in here doesn't mean that he can't send out scouts and spies, to gather knowledge. Perhaps that's where the more advanced creations have come from?" He looks at Ophion. "Do you need more light? I can see in the dark, I never thought to ask if you could."
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"I can see well enough, thanks." Ophion thought to clarify his statement a bit more. "Dracons can't see in complete darkness, but we can see better than humans, halflings, and at least some elves. As for Polybius himself, he can certainly gather knowledge about what's going on in his own catacombs. It's just how these things work. Certain powerful beings have a magical connection to their lair. It's something I haven't had personally, but it would be useful to 'just know' if something has occurred in my shop without having to see it."
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"Ah. Interesting. I've heard that dragons have that....lair sense, for lack of a better term, but I never knew if it was true." He vaguely waves a wispy arm. "I wounder how they do it? Is it just a magic build up from when something that powerful just stays in one place for long enough? Or is it some kind of advanced scrying?" He laughs softly, with a sound like moaning wind. "I personally don't need it, because I've never stayed in one place long enough to call it home."
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"Some dragons do, some don't. It's a matter of the individual dragon's powers, not the species or family. As to how it is done, that would take a long time to explain. All you need to know about it is that it's not scrying, but more like a sixth sense that-" Ophion explained, suddenly feeling the air suddenly grow noticeably colder as the walked down the hall. The tunnel dimmed as well, as if some nearby presence was somehow draining the light and warmth from the room.

"We're close. I don't know if you can feel him, but the room sure does. It wouldn't surprise me if Polybius was at the end of this tunnel here."
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He raises his scythe, the weapon trembling with power. "But is he awake?" He lifts the golden staff, his whole body softly pulsating with the abundant necrotic signature in the air. He floats in front of Ophion, and looking into the darkness for the lich, doing his best to mask the feel of Ophion's soul with his own necrotic energy. He almost gently sends a small pulse of raw, unshaped necrotic energy down the hall, much like a bats echolocation.
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"I-I'm pretty certain that he is" Ophion remarked. "Although I'm not sure if words like 'awake' or 'asleep' would work for a lich or-or even you. More like 'active' and 'dormant' would- never mind. This is a terrible time for a lesson!"

"Oh, rest assured, I can see both of you just fine!"
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He bows deeply to the source of the voice. "Greetings, Lich king Polybius. I am honored." He raises the golden staff in supplication. "Did we disturb your rest?" He begins glowing with black energy, and puts his scythe away, helmet inclined to the floor. "I apologize that I cannot kneel in your honor, as I have no lower body."
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"I don't think you understand, little wraith. I'm not here to receive your adulation. I'm here to receive the two of you as raw material for my banefire furnaces. Oh, I seem to have frightened the living one."

"B-banefire?! If you didn't know, that's a bright green flame which causes whatever it touches to rapidly decay, apart from certain metals, and even then, they have to be magically-treated to resist the decomposition effect."

"Indeed. The banefire will break you both down into your basest components, which I will then use to fuel the creation of my new army to reclaim the lands which are rightfully mine and restore my kingdom as the necrocracy it ought to be."

"He's telling us this to delay us! We've got to move quickly!" Ophion ran down the hall towards Polybius, who only growled in anger as his ploy to slow the two of them down had come to nothing.
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He begins laughing, and his patron's mantel flares to life around him. He races forward, appearing in front of Polybius in a instant, and blasts him with his own staff. "Banefire doesn't scare a Dark Paladin." He sweeps his scythe in an arc, slicing the liches chest open. He begins inhaling the power from Polybius, getting a base understanding of his powers, abilities....and the location of his phylactery. "You're strong. But you've been hiding for too long, lich."
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Polybius himself appeared as a dracon skeleton with glowing red eyes, still clad in his royal robes. In fact, but for the obvious sight of his skeletal form, one could swear that the robes themselves had been made yesterday. They weren't even dusty, despite being in a tomb for so long. The lich laughed at the wraith, the injury in his ribcage sealing up almost as soon as the injury had been made.

"Oh, little dark elf, you're only delaying the inevitable. Even if you found my phylactery, it would do you no good. It's protected by magics you've only heard of in myth."

Ophion ran down the halls, silently cursing his ally for getting so far ahead of him, and so fast.
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"Maybe so. But you've never fought one such as me before. I didn't come unprepared." He holds out his hand, and a pentagram appears in front of him, the symbols twisting and swirling in on themselves, and he begins chanting in elvish, the pentagram slowly shooting though with a bright green. His eyes even shift color, staining a deep green. Once the pentagram is fully green, which only takes a second, a wave of chaotic nature magic fires from the pentagram. "I'm still a Feyborn."
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Polybius only let out a sardonic laugh.

"A Feyborn who's birth has worn off long ago. I can't tell if you've spent more time dead or alive, even though the latter is a mere blink of an eye next to the time ahead of you. Of course, I can guide you on your endless journey. You don't need to listen to that scaly sack of flesh you call a companion."

"Don't listen to him! He's just trying to use you!" Ophion warned.
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His eyes blaze with interest. "Guide me, or attempt to enslave me?" He begins slowly spinning his scythe in thought. "I've dealt with Liches before, though none were as ancient as you. What trust would I be able to put into you? You're just as likely to help me as attempt to enslave me. Wraiths are renowned Undead generals, it's true, but I doubt you'd need that, if you're even a tenth as strong as you appear to be." He begins laughing, a deep, horrifying sound that shakes the soul.
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(We should finish the Polybius arc in maybe 10 - 12 posts in total, so Bloonewb can return after we do the time skip.)

Ophion launched a flare spell, sending it streaking down the hallway. It lit up the corridor, revealing what Polybius looked like all this time: a red-robed dragon skeleton with glowing red eyes in the sockets of his skull. Ophion had imagined that the lich would have appeared decayed after all these thousands of years. Instead, his skeleton and robs looked superlatively clean. Spotless, even.

"I must commend the two of you for reaching me. No one else has ever gotten this far in thousands of years. Even if you win, it is all for nothing. Even in this degenerate age, you must surely know about a lich's immortality."

"Find your phylactery and destroy it, I know. It's probably in these tunnels." That was not what the lich wanted to hear. For the first time, he sounded genuinely angry.

"You know, back in my day, that was forbidden lore. You'd have to have been admitted to the absolute highest circles of necromancy to know that. Now, it's- it's common knowledge?!"

"In the dracon realms, at least. Any child who can read can find it out in any number of books on the subject."

"... I feel so old."
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