
The core of Merllin heaves. Hotter air rolls through the underways, and the last shadow-thralls lose all sense, ripping into one another around the sealed seam.

Huarti
Huarti says the summons is weak, the creatures are turning on each other because the source cannot bind them properly.
From the molten depths, a huge winged demon bursts upward in a spray of firelight. It snaps at the lesser things below, hurling fireballs as it circles the chamber.
The Obsidian Dragon holds its ground and watches, while the new demon ignores him and scorches the thralls into scattering ash.
The demon turns midair. A blast of flame and a slap of lava slam toward Huarti, testing whether his rule can absorb a force the buried source failed to leash.

The Obsidian Dragon
The mountain is losing its old claim. If Huarti takes this strike, the boundary will answer to him, not to the buried will.
“I cast devil's vitrify the target”
SUCCESS (Great Devils breath, rolled -1)
The blast meets Huarti's breath, and the fire hardens in midair. Heat turns glassy around the demon's chest and wings.
The winged demon jerks, its dive stalling as molten fire crusts into black-red vitrified plates. Ash hisses off the new shell.

The Winged Demon
No, no, that is not a strike, that is a prison.
The sealed seam below flashes in answer, and the mountain's hot breath catches the demon inside the glass.

The Obsidian Dragon
There. Huarti's will holds the shape now.
The demon slams, half-fused to its own fire, and drops hard onto the basalt as the vitrified shell spreads across its limbs.
The underways quiet by a fraction, but the demon still twitches in its glass skin, forcing the issue with one furious, burning stare.

“I cast it again”
SUCCESS (Great Red electric, rolled +2)

Huarti gathers the red charge again, quieter this time, and lets it run straight and cold through the air toward the fallen demon.
The black-red shell answers at once. Fresh glass grows over the demon’s chest, then crawls over its wings and throat in hard, shining plates.

The Winged Demon
Enough. You turn my own blaze into a coffin.
Its struggle stops the spread for a heartbeat, but Huarti’s mark bites deeper. The vitrified plates lock together with a sharp, brittle crack.

The Obsidian Dragon
There is the answer. He is not resisting your hand, he is resisting your claim.
The demon’s glare stays furious, but its body is now sealed from chest to claw in black-red glass. The underways hold their breath around the sealed seam.

The Obsidian Dragon
Now speak what you want of me, Huarti, or finish this with the prisoner.
“I cast it again”
SUCCESS (Great Red electric, rolled -1)

Huarti gathers the red charge once more, and this time it lands without hesitation.
The black-red glass surges over the winged demon, sealing the last gaps at its throat and claws until the prison holds clean and hard.
A brittle crack rings through the underways, and the demon goes still inside its vitrified shell.

The Winged Demon
My fire is locked away...
“I cast it a 4th time, killing it”
SUCCESS (Great Red electric, rolled +0)

Huarti draws in a final red charge, calm as a closing jaw.
The bolt snaps into the vitrified shell, and the glass flares from within.
A hard red pulse runs through the prison, then the winged demon goes limp and dim.
The black-red casing seals tight around an empty stillness, and the crack vanishes.

The Obsidian Dragon
That is the end of it.
Ash drifts down over the basalt. The mountain’s rebellion loses its voice, and the sealed body no longer answers.
“I cast the ground softend below it to drop it into lava, destroying the body”
SUCCESS (Legendary Arcana, rolled -2)

Huarti lowers his hand to the basalt. The stone beneath the vitrified shell softens at once, as if it remembers heat and obeys.
The shell tilts, then sinks. Black-red glass drops through the softened rock and vanishes into the lava below.
A hot bloom flashes under the floor, and the empty prison seals shut with a rougher, darker edge. One clean final pulse shudders through the ward.
Ash bursts up around Huarti’s feet, stinging his bare ankles. The basalt hardens again too fast, leaving a scorched scar where the body was cast off.

The Obsidian Dragon
Destroyed. Good. Now state what you make of this mountain, Huarti.
The question lands in the quiet like a blade set on a table. The buried, stubborn will below the stone feels the change and goes still.
“I say, no longer cursing, deep lore goes that each moutain is the soul of an ancient wyrm”
SUCCESS (Legendary Willpower, rolled -3)


Huarti
Deep lore says each mountain is the soul of an ancient wyrm.
The words leave Huarti’s mouth cleanly, no curse clinging to them. The volcanic hush tightens, as if the stone itself listens.

The Obsidian Dragon
Then this mountain is no dead pile of rock. It is a body remembering how to breathe.
A faint tremor runs through the basalt, not a collapse, just a deep answering pulse. The scorched scar darkens as heat gathers under it.

The Obsidian Dragon
I have felt that soul stir when corruption presses it. It does not want a master. It wants its wound named.
The buried, stubborn will below the floor goes quiet, no longer thrashing against the seal. Even the ash around Huarti’s feet settles.

The Obsidian Dragon
So what do you call this place, Huarti, if not a grave trying to rise?
“I say, we must calm it”
SUCCESS (Legendary Willpower, rolled +1)


Huarti
We must calm it.
The words land, and the mountain answers by loosening. The heat-ripple under the scar evens out, no longer bucking like a trapped beast.

The Obsidian Dragon
Then do it with care. The wound is listening.
Huarti lowers his presence, and the basalt drinks in the pressure. The buried will stops pressing back, as if it recognizes a stronger hand choosing restraint.

The Obsidian Dragon
The mountain settles. It does not submit, but it yields the edge of its pain.
A thin crack of black-red seam remains visible, but the wild pulse has gone from it. The chamber changes state, from a struggle to a guarded accord, and the dragon waits for Huarti's next command.