Zhortan
Zhortan, known as Zhortan of Abkhazala, is a human working for the Forces of the Abyss
About
**Needs rewrite**
High Paladin Gnatius and Blessed Sister Vaelleri and battled the Abyssal onslaught that seemed to appear from nowhere, hidden by unnatural shadow.
They were north of the Halpi Mountains, having set out to treat with the warring dwarfs, thereby securing passage through their lands to the lands of Abercarr, to seek out the sorcerers of far Abkhazala, now nearing the Abyss.
Their passage discovered a desecrated monastery, the brother monks eyes plucked from their heads, driven mad from what they had read in a strange book. So a new mission was announced, to seek out the hellish things that had corrupted those monk.This was when a great roar was heard and a deep red glow appeared on the edge of his vision. Abyssals flooded in from every direction, and his force was too sorely depleted to fight so many.
Vaelleri ushered Gnatius down a trap door that was there, and the remaining troops filled down into cramped tunnels, sloping ever downwards. Men-at-arms lit the way with torches, and perhaps that explained the growing heat, which seemed unnatural in this frozen waste.
Where the passages split Gnatius prayed and picked a route. Marching for hours of days, time was lost, the ever downward slog was like an arid desert, dead ends seemed to part at their touch, tricks of daylight ahead which would be blocked walls of coal.
Exhaustion was their only tell tail sign of the passage of time. Tiered, stragglers were left as the party moved on, only for them to disappear if they looked back.
They finally reached a great door bound in brass and set in carved stone, Gnatius looked back and only blessed Sister Vaelleri and himself remained. But blessed Sister Vaelleri did not know of the party they descended with, and only stated that it was their quest alone. They had reached the lair of Zhortan of Abkhazala, the demonologist. Gnatius drew his sword and the sounds of battle echoed all around, shadows dancing in the periphery of his vision.
Vallaeri was gone, Gnatius wondered if she had ever been here. Before him stood a dark figure, in robes of deepest crimson. The Abyssal sorcerer Zhortan. As Gnatius went to stike Zhortan, his sword felt too heavy, his hands looked old and gnarled, the blade was about to stike Zhortan when there was a great burst of flame, a gibbering, maniacal laugh, and red-skinned figures danced impishly all around Gnatius, prodding him with pitchforks, goading him with blasphemous insults.
"The way to the next circle is barred to you." resounded in his mind. Gnatius fought on and on, slashing with his sword at his fiery torturers, until he was filled with blood-rage, sinking to one knee. His sword was pressing firmly into the frozen ground, giving prayer to the Shining Ones for his deliverance.
His revere broken by Vallaeri urging him not to linger here. Gnatius opened his eyes and looked about the shattered ruins, masked by the swirl of endless snow.
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