Chapter 2.39: The Enochian Tower

Hadriel takes off again, flying several feet out of their reach as blood keeps dripping from almost everywhere from his battered body.
“No one shall escape the divine wrath of the Seraphim. No one disrespects the masters of the Silver Circle. You will pay with your life, just as this heretic pest did.”
They all look at each other and each gaze is met the same kind of despair.
“Lyssa, take out the wand and heal him”, Oslando says. “Bruq, we will keep him at bay. Mero… Just do what you were doing.”
(Natural 1 versus AC)
With their weapons drawn, they form a blockade to the draconian corpse.
“I would like to see you try, feathered devil. I’ll make sure you bleed out after I cut off every feather!”
Bruq’s taunting words infuriate him, but the angel thinks twice before swooping down towards his own demise.
Mero points his trembling hand at Hadriel, utterly shook by the loss of his scaled friend, and tries the same thing again, just as the half-elf suggested. The crackling sound of ice breaking echo softly throughout the tower. It is followed by the loud noise of the glacial beam missing its target and crashing into the wall behind Hadriel.
Lyssa falls to her knees, next to Dargothoth, with the wand of healing in her hand.
“I’m not letting you die”, she whispers as she eyes over the lethal wound. His whole armor is covered in blood. It’s a lot darker than she’s used to see on corpses she loots for treasure. She pulls back the edge of the gash and presses the rod inside.
“This better work”, she says with squinted eyes and she keeps pushing until it goes no further.
Another blue ring disappears of the white rod, its usual cleanliness tainted by the tarry blood. After it starts glowing with the familiar blue light of curing she can feel a rhythmic beating against the knob of the rod.
“Yes!” She exclaims in excitement, pulling in everyone’s attention, including the furious angel.
“No! You will not bring back this monster from the depths of hell!”
With his sword pointed straight at the siren and the cleric, he dives down with incredible speed. Flames are coming off of him.
“Come on, come on”, Lyssa says impatiently, her body shaking in anticipation.
(DC 11 versus dexterity 9)
Dargothoth opens his eyes and sees his imminent demise coming down on him. He acts on the first instinct anyone of his kind has: acting on his primal, dragonborn behaviour. He opens his mouth widely and a deep gurgling sound accompanies what happens next. A mixture of dark yellow and bright green flames spew upwards violently and engulf Hadriel’s body entirely. As only parts of his wings are out of the thirty feet sea of fire, every other part of him is being consumed by the acid, creating an orchestra of painful screams and sizzling flesh due to the corrosion. With all the restored power in his almost broken body he keeps it going for seconds, slowing down his crying enemy as he tries to escape the ochre and lime inferno.
Hadriel tumbles down, although they can’t see any details of his body, and his screams die with him. When the corroding breath wavers, the only things left to collide with the ground are his blazing blade and two stumps with a few bleeding feathers on it.

“Holy fuck”, Bruq stammers, totally flabbergasted, and he drops his glaive in disbelief. “I’m not messing around with you anymore, that’s for sure. You could do that the whole time?”
Lyssa helps the priest up.
“Yes, I could, but I saved it for something climactic.” He laughs through the almost unbearable pain.
“How are you making jokes while you literally almost died a minute ago?” She looks at him in confusion and he looks back at her, his eyes still not fully open and blood still slowly coming from his mouth.
“I was one with Nerull for a moment”, he says ominously. “I could feel him. Some part of him is alive and reached out to me. I feel more alive than ever before and it only took one sacrifice. He gave me life to let me give him another life. Hadriel is in his realm now, tortured forever.”
Mero walks over while he’s giving his grim speech.
“Whatever happened”, the puppet says frivolously, “I’m glad you're back.”
The others walk to him as well. Bruq kneels beside him and pulls a feather from something that resembled the wing of an angel. Oslando and Dargothoth look at him, one shaking his head and the other one nodding in agreement.
“He promised me a feather and I’ll impale every bloody celestial god if I’m not getting my bounty.”
A nasty smile runs across the nodding cleric as he removes his backpack and takes out another sack.
“Cut off the rest of it.” Dargothoth’s voice creaks. “After this whole aggravating puppet-show I’ll make a whole cloak with every feather that hasn’t corroded and I will wear it with pride.”