The steel and gold door opened. Hoplite and the party entered into a large circular chamber. As everyone looked around to survey the new surroundings, Hoplite noted how uninviting the area was. The floor was little more than a steel grate, with a whirling pool of liquid darkness beneath. He estimated that it would be a fifty foot drop into the liquid, and based on how the pool spiraled, he was certain that it wasn't water. The large grate was rimmed by a solid circle of concrete, where a dozen dwarven guards stood, rifles held at rest. The Gear Guard shuffled into place along with the others at the border of the room. Hoplite estimated that he could kill at least half of the group before the first shots could be fired… Perhaps a grenade would be a better use, but would the integrity of the grate hold out? The steel was thick but a concussive blast may send it plummeting to the roiling fluid below.
Engravings lined the gray walls of the chamber as well, depicting Oros once again, his visage twisted and demonic. The snarling face covered most of the wall that welcomed them in. The rest of the room was full of carvings at floor level of dwarves fleeing into a cave in various states of panic or even death. Contrasting all of the pictures were three very real hooded figures sitting in thrones at the far end of the room, comfortably placed as a barrier against the face of the wrathful Pillar-god.
Each of the massive metal thrones looked like twisted trees grasping desperately skyward. Small steps showed the path up to the harsh metal chair and yellow light refracted off the material from a solitary yellow lightbulb above, sharing a passing resemblance to the Harkcrystal in the Faewood. The hooded Vampire Lords looked down upon the group. Only three parts of their bodies poked out from the dark, rough-looking fabric: gnarled hands that gripped the ends of their armrests, glowing red eyes that pierced through the darkness of the hoods, and giant, flowing white beards. Suddenly, the metric for beard length made sense to Hoplite. These beings were the highest ranked, and thus had giant tapestries of hair flowing down to the floor. They made the Harkmother's head of hair look practical in comparison.
"Approach the center." The dwarf on the middle throne commanded.
And against his will, he nearly moved forward. He snapped out of it, maintaining his place. The others, however, were not able to resist the order, much to their apparent fright.
"The automaton, command it forth, lest it be disposed of." The center lord said, curling his skeletal hand several times.
Lance blinked and turned around, frowning for an instant before she said, "Come on, Hoplite, let's get this over with then we can get out of here."
Hoplite felt his skin crawl at the very idea of getting closer, but still obeyed. There was a pressure hanging in the air around him, and it made him feel claustrophobic. Just one of these vampire lords was likely far stronger than Tuji, and Hoplite had nearly needed to go Wendigo to survive that encounter. A horrible sense of dread came over him as he approached the thrones, and The Child attempted to take over, to make Hoplite flee back into the tunnels. The Soldier felt the opposite, urging Hoplite to charge at the three hooded figures above, damn be the consequences. Hoplite clenched his jaw, suppressing them both. Neither of those scenarios would end well.
The red eyes seemed to appraise everyone present. A few moments of tense silence passed before finally the vampire on the left spoke, "None of you bore firearms when you approached our Gear, save for the automaton, and the two humans there. Are they common above ground?"
The center dwarf shook his head, "Let us introduce ourselves properly before we begin asking questions. It is not often that we receive guests here in our hall… much less fresh ones."
He saw Twindil give a small but visible shudder, her skin turning a sickly pale as she stared up at the three dwarves.
"I, am Telagad In'gala, First Long Lord of New Romai," the center dwarf declared, "With me are my brothers, First Prince Megad In'gala," Telagad nodded to the dwarf on his left. "And Second Prince Lagoma In'gala," he indicated the one on his right. "You may address us as 'my Lord' or by our titles, newbloods. Now, we have existed down here since the end of the Sixth Age, pray tell, what era is it on the surface?"
"It is the Tenth Age, Decuma!" Alistair blurted out, seemingly against his will, for his hand went over his mouth, eyes wide in shock.
"Tenth is it?" The Second Prince, Lagoma asked. "Brother, we have been down here longer than you had thought."
"Truly," Telagad replied. "Now, continuing on from the first question posed by Prince Megad, are firearms common on the surface world?"
"No," Elum said, knitting his eyebrows together and gritting his teeth, "There are some in the Blastlands, but none like what those ones have."
"So… a rarity." Telegad said, his pure white teeth gleaming through the darkness of his hood. Fanged teeth. "This is pleasing to hear, but why is it that those humans and that automaton have such weapons? Are they from the Blastlands?"
"They're-" Lance grit her teeth, her hands clenching.
"Elves. What a bothersome race of fools. You think you can stand up to my might?" Telegad raised a gnarled finger, "Where are they from, mortal. Speak!" The command, words and voice all in one element, rattled through Hoplite's head.
Lance fell to her knees as the truth was forcibly ripped from her mouth, "They're Outworlders!"
The guards all gasped at this revelation, and even the vampires above seemed slightly taken aback. Dundale's eyes widened, looking at Hoplite with a critical eye. Hoplite, for his part, struggled not to lift his shotgun and fire on Telegad… but when he looked down to his hands, he saw that the effort was fruitless. The Magnus was back in the wagon, along with everyone else's weapons. The Child grew angry that the vampire lord had hurt his friend, but The Soldier couldn't care less, erring caution despite his earlier urge to attack.
Hoplite simply stood there, unsure as to how to proceed.
"In all my time, I've not had the pleasure of meeting such creatures as you," Telegad said with a honey-like sweetness. "This means that your automaton is not animated by Foundation, rather it must be utilizing electricity. I can hear a hum from it, it reminds me of our generators, though none of your ears would be able to pick up on this."
He could hear the hum of the Phalanx suit? Hoplite wasn't even aware that there was a hum… One of this monster's senses far outstripped Hoplite's own, what else did this vampire outclass him in? At least he could take comfort in knowing that Telegad couldn't hear his heartbeat, that would help conceal his true nature from these vampires. Hoplite still wasn't sure if that would be useful or not, but the more they didn't know about him, the better.
"The young man and woman are the Outworlders then, meaning that there is no incoming Godling War, fascinating… Perhaps now is the time, brothers?" First Prince Megad asked.
"I do believe it is so." Lagoma said, white teeth grinning through the darkness, "Our claim will be reinforced by the presence of our Outworlders."
Michael frowned, "Our claim? The hell do you mean?"
"Private-" Hoplite started.
A sharp, mirthless cackle rang from the vampire lord on the right. "Have you already forgotten your manners, newblood? Bow to your superior!" His shriveled hand clawed at the air and a pressure rang against Hoplite's inner ear.
Michael suddenly screamed as his body was pushed forward in a precarious bow. His body trembled to hold himself upright as an invisible force seemed to balance him the rest of the way. The young marine's face contorted in pain.
"Speak out of turn or without the proper respect again, Outworlder whelp," Lagoma taunted.
Cat stared at Michael's shaky posture with wide eyes. She opened her mouth, but bit her lip shut.
Twindil hastily knelt to one knee and lowered her head. "I entreat you, Wise Second Prince Lagoma, to let our friend go."
A small exhale sounded from the vampire lord, then his hand lowered to the arm rest. "Your subservience will reward you. But next time, I expect more groveling."
With that, the invisible hand that held Michael in place vanished and he stumbled forward. Sweat beaded on the man's face and he held still outside of gasping for breath.
Bending forward more, Twindil spoke again, "Please, glorious lords of New Romai, we only wish to pass through your extravagant home. We will do everything you ask, we only wish to leave unscathed."
The Long Lord Telegad leaned his hooded head against a withered hand and chuckled softly. "Quite the trusting fools you are. New Romai is Ahkoolis' best kept secret. You believe that you could be trusted to roam the surface again with such information?" Telegad turned his head, his long beard twitching with the motion. "No one leaves New Romai, especially not delicious newbloods like you."
"We refuse-" Hoplite started before Telegad raised his hand.
Everything froze, his mouth, his hands… even his suit froze in place, as if he had activated his maglocks.
"Automatons do not speak for living beings." Telegad stated, "And in any case, you have no choice. As your rulers, you must do as we bid. You there, Footer, call some stout dwarves and cart the automaton away for disassembly. Outworlder technology is no doubt quite valuable."
Dundale put his fist to his chest and bowed deeply, "Right away, Long Lord!" He yelled before pulling a large, primitive brick-like device from the pack on his back. The dwarf then pulled a long antennae out, adjusting it for a moment before finally he relayed the information over the radio. Their signals really could travel through solid stone? Or was there another means?
Not now! This was not the time to overthink!
"Thank you," Telegad said in a fond voice. His red eyes found Michael and Cat again. "Now, you two Outworlders… I have a great interest in the nature of your world, as anyone would, but I also have another curiosity that I want sated. I must taste your blood, and I am kind enough to let you two decide which will be sampled."
"Not a chance!" Michael shouted, stepping in front of Cat. He maintained his glare, clearly surprised by his own actions. Then, his attention flitted to Lagoma for a fear-filled second. "Er, not a chance, Long Lord."
All the guards in attendance then aimed their rifles at him, but he paid them no mind. Hoplite's damn mouth wouldn't move, no orders could escape his sealed lips. He struggled against his paralysis, but his suit wouldn't budge!
The three Long Lords, surprisingly, began to laugh, the heartless sound echoing through the chamber. After a while, the laughter died out, all of them shaking their heads in disbelief.
"This one will make a fine servant, I think… is this an Outworlder trait?" Megad asked, running gnarled hands through his beard.
"The foolishness, or the fact he did not obey?" Telegad asked, amused.
"Both I think." Lagoma said, "Though the foolishness may be unique to this boy."
"Woman." Telegad said, pointing to Cat, "Fall." She promptly fell to her knees.
"Suggestion does not work on the thick-headed, it seems." Megad muttered.
Hoplite continued to struggle in vain against his invisible restraints, but it was no use. The other members of the party seemed equally frozen, only able to move their heads.
Telegad then raised his hand. Michael rose into the air, floating up toward the vampire. Hoplite strained, gritting his teeth as he mustered a herculean effort-
"I am the Son of Zodd!!!" Kid'ka shouted suddenly.
His voice, which was normally so broken and awkward, no longer seemed so, filled with unwavering confidence. The words echoed through the chamber, leaving only pure silence in their wake. Hoplite's eyes widened with shock as he stared at Kid'ka, everything anomalous about the man suddenly clicking into place. The unnatural strength, the nigh-superhuman speed… Kid'ka was a Godling.
Michael fell to the floor with a thud, the vampires all standing from their thrones. The guards surrounding them aimed their rifles directly at Kid'ka, who strangely, no longer seemed to be paralyzed. The guards, while they did keep their aim on Kid'ka, seemed to be quivering slightly, their aim shaky.
"I will not let you fiends bring any of my companions harm!" Kid'ka shouted, raising his hands, "Have at you!"
"Using an act of arrogance to give yourself power?" Telegad questioned, "Clever, little Pillar-Born, but it will not be enough to close the gap between you and I."
An act of arrogance? Hadn't Alistair mentioned something like that before? Did that mean that he was also a-
Kid'ka inhaled sharply, bracing his feet against the grate before he leapt forward, flying through the air toward Telegad, fists poised to strike. However, Kid'ka did not manage to get further than that. Like lightning, Telegad's long beard split, forming long prehensile tendrils of hair that snapped forward, entangling Kid'ka. Telegad laughed, but in that triumphant laughter, there was an undertone of relief.
The hair completely encapsulated Kid'ka like a cocoon. Telegad pressed his hands together, the tips of every finger meeting to form a pyramid, "Be blind, be deaf, be nothing!" The vampire Lord shouted, raw Golden Flame appearing in the empty space between his hands.
Theopalu flinched, visibly gritting his teeth as he stared at Telegad, hands clenching and unclenching… was the old elf able to move? How was that possible? Before he could think on it further, Kid'ka screamed. Foundation sped down the silvery beard, settling on the portion Kid'ka was trapped in.
In a moment, the light vanished and Kid'ka fell to the ground. Smoke curled up from his still form. Even after all that, his limbs twitched and tried to force himself back up.
"Kid'ka!" Twindil yelled.
"Idiot!" Alastair hissed.
Lance's eyes stretched as far as they could go. A faint whisper came from her, "Pillar-Born…"
"Please…" a husky whisper came from the burned fighter, "One of them has a sealed Coffin. We can take at least one."
"Don't be foolish," The paladin's voice grew strained.
"Pillar-Born." Lance said a little louder this time.
Elum, Alastiar, and Twindil gave the Watcher their full attention. Theopalu ducked his head and muttered another "awkward" to himself. Michael and Cat looked on curiously.
"How long…?" Lance choked. "How long did you think you could lie to us?" She strained her body against the invisible hold. "Which of you are world-ending Pillar-Born? Is this quest to kill Kazon some sort of ploy to ascend to godhood and decimate Ahkoolis to christen the new age?! I trusted you! I TRUSTED you filthy Pillar-Born spawn!" Tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes.
Twindil gulped and tried to placate her, "Lancela-"
"Don't use my name! Don't you dare call me anything but your enemy!" Her words began shuddering through her emotions. "The age really is ending. Oh Pillars, everything is going to be razed to the ground. The last years of Decuma… and I have traveled with one who may kill us all." Her head leaned forward, skin turning deathly pale.
A small hum came from one of the vampire lords. "Pillar-Born and Outworlders. What a curious age the surface finds itself embroiled in." Megad observed.
"My brothers, we have much to discuss." Long Lord Telegad pointed a finger at the guards around the room. "Escort our prisoners to the cells, use the suppressor cuffs."
Though none of the dwarves spoke, the hesitance was plain on their faces.
"There is nothing to fear." Lagoma raised his hand and commanded, "Sleep."
With one word, the entire party closed their eyes and fell limp. Hoplite stared in horror. This was but a fraction of a vampire lord's power, he guessed.
While his focus had been on the others, he suddenly felt himself tipping over. Behind him, a camera showed that a large steel wagon and burly dwarves had arrived. Dundale and the other Gear Guards directed the stout, oil-stained dwarves to load Hoplite onto it.
Half of his world was now the hard steel of this cart, with the other half being that of the ceiling. The Child screamed in terror, while the Soldier struggled to be free, to crush the skulls of the hostiles attempting to capture him. The two continued to argue as he was carted away, still unable to do so much as move.