The Ruin of Sibhan

Quick Disclaimer: This story was inspired by the terrific one shot D&D campaign run by Firecrow for the Hyper RPG Charity Drive.  If you want to see what the party was up to while Sibhan was pouting, you can find it here:


The night was fast approaching and it was already promising to be a most glorious evening. From his vantage point in the highest room of the darkened mansion, the necromancer Sibhan the Terrible chuckled to himself. Those fools in the village had sent out yet another party of adventurers against him but they failed to realize that this played perfectly into his ultimate evil plan. He only needed four more souls before he could finally open the portal to the eighteenth hell and summon the great demon, Jolktic and bring about the next apocalypse.

Humming happily to himself, Sibhan the Terrible rubbed his hands gleefully as he scanned the horizon for the approaching party. At last he saw them! It was more perfect than he could have possibly imagined! There were four of them, just the amount he needed! Tonight would be the night of the next apocalypse! It wouldn’t be long now. Soon the adventurers would open the door to his home and all manner of horrible things would happen to them. It would be delicious. Looking down he saw them approaching the outside of his property. They were a motley group to be certain. There was a tiny gnome with thick glasses and heavy robes, a wizard by the looks of it, a female gunslinger who was repeatedly unholstering her weapons and throwing them to the ground and picking them up again, a huge Goliath dressed quite spectacularly in the trappings of a bard, and a slightly miserable looking man in chain mail who was polishing his holy symbol, a cleric of course. Well let them come, he would dispatch them all!

Striding back to the center of the room, Sibhan the Terrible made ready for the coming onslaught. In truth he was sort of looking forward to it, it had been so long since the village had sent anyone who had actually posed a challenge to him that he feared his powers were getting rusty through lack of use. To practice he animated two dead rats in the corner of the room and set them about reenacting his last great battle with the hero Daymar the Pure. That had been a real fight, not like these little scuffles he had to deal with now. Two great and powerful foes evenly matched, fighting for the light and the darkness. True power, epic struggle, a fight for the millennia, it had been glorious. But then he had killed Daymar and it all seemed to fall apart. Now he spent his days in his house, waiting for his neighbors to send people to kill him just so he could steal their souls and open a portal into hell. It was a depressing existence. But now that too would be at an end because any moment the party of adventurers would be crashing through the door to fight him. His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of light tapping followed by a gunshot. Then more silence. Then the sound of some glass breaking and a solid thunk, followed by an “Oh good GOD!”.

Peering out the window, Sibhan the Terrible saw the Goliath rubbing his jaw as a thick log rolled away. The other members of the party seemed to be slightly distracted by the gunslinger whose skin appeared to be attempting to consume her. How odd. Well, they would undoubtedly be coming through the door soon. After all, the only thing on the front porch was the wolf spider who had taken up residence there. Sibhan the Terrible had taken to calling him Frank. Frank was a fairly tame spider so long as you did not show him a rainbow. For some reason he had a terrible fear of the color spectrum and it made him very angry.

About forty-five minutes later, Sibhan the Terrible was growing impatient. Drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair, he cast another look out the window. The party was arguing, which was nothing new, and had finally dispatched the spider. He felt bad for Frank but at least this meant that they could go back to the quest at hand and bring him their souls. The sound of a knock on the front door brought him back to the present as did the crashing sound of the kick that followed. Was it possible that they still had not opened the front door?
Another twenty minutes passed during which time he heard more arguing, some yelling about knees and wood, and some feeble sounding grunting near the front door. At last Sibhan the Terrible heard sounds from the front foyer. Finally! His relief was short lived however, as he heard the sounds of dry heaving and squishing. A happy exclamation confirmed his suspicion that they had found the dead Goblin and had been rooting about in his intestines for money. Such a foolish rural legend. Everyone knew that goblins hid their money in their ears. More crashing signaled the arrival of the entire party inside his home and Sibhan the Terrible prepared himself for battle.

When another twenty minutes passed with no one entering his room, the necromancer decided to see just what was going on. Crossing the room, he unlocked the door and crept out onto the landing. Leaning slightly over the bannister he was just in time to hear the Goliath shriek “What are you doing?” and took in what could only be described as a scene of complete chaos. The tiny wizard was sleeping on the floor while the cleric, who had somehow become a vampire, leaned over her attempting to get a snack from her neck. He missed terribly and almost lost his balance. The gunslinger was still being consumed by her own skin but now her shoes were on fire and the Goliath had had his arms replaced by flippers. A small party of lizard men were in various states of damage and blowing bubbles while a lizard shaman angrily spat insults. And where had his gargoyles gone? Where were Slate and Granite? What was going on? And why was everyone still standing in the damned foyer? Throwing his hands up in disgust, Sibhan the Terrible stalked back into his room and slammed the door before latching it securely behind him.

Slumping down in his chair, the necromancer began to consider the very distinct possibility that he would not be able to collect his four souls tonight. The apocalypse might be cancelled for the evening. Resting his chin in his hand, Sibhan the Terrible glumly looked out the window when suddenly a huge flash erupted in the sky, lighting the entire room as if it were midafternoon. Sitting up straight, the necromancer could not believe his bad luck. On this night of all nights! When he was this close! Now? The universe chose this moment to end? It hardly seemed fair. With an air of resignation he stood and went over the the door, unlocking it before returning to his seat. Might as well remove at least one obstacle for the adventurers. Perhaps if he was very lucky one might make their way into the room before the end of the world.

Arms crossed, Sibhan the Terrible stared at the ever growing brightness outside his window. It was such a shame. It would have been such a lovely apocalypse.

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