Code Blue!

"Gahhh!" Vader gasped, stumbling to one knee as the acursed realm severed his connection to Corruptus and began to rapidly drain him of his unlife force.

His armor too, was beginning to rust and disintegrate before his very eyes. He tried to cast Veil of Corruptus to black out this awful force. But when he opened his mouth to do so, he could only hack and cough as ash filled his throat.

"Recuravi Un Otioque," a female voice chanted and he felt the pressure of a hand upon his left pauldron.

The rapid decay haulted. A moment later, a second spell was cast, which seemed to replenish a portion of his strength. He struggled to stand back up, his armor now seeming to weigh two or more times as much as he was used to. Niko rushed to his side, but could provide only token assistance.

Finally back on his feet, he locked eyes with the dark elf, Cyndel.

"That should help some," she said softly. "But while it can stop the decay of the dead for days, I don't know how long it will last in this place."

"Would that you had just let me perish, rather than force me to continue my existence, devoid of hatred for even one elf," he grumbled.

"I think that's his way of saying 'thanks'," Niko said. "But what caused this? What is this place?"

As they walked, she played a song to help restore some of his strength. It seemed to help, if just marginally.

"I think I figured out why they call this place the 'Well of Souls'," Cyndel mused as the Fellowship began to walk.

"Why, because it's a fucking hell hole where only the souls of the dead can reside?" one of the newcomers offered.

Vader swatted away one of the pesky apparitions.

"The souls of the dead are being drawn here, unnaturally and then drained of their essence. What sort of scheme is Necrolon playing at?" Vader asked outloud.

But alas, an answer was not forthcoming. He'd have to wring it from the throat of the Infernal Balrog.

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