The chamber was dark, unlit but for five light sources within the cavernous space of the room. Orbs, giving off a strong blue glow, a testament to their eldritch powers. The orbs, held in place by five separate figures, their identities concealed by purple robes with hoods. A sixth figure paced around the gathering of the orb holders, watching, waiting for something to happen. His robes held elaboration to them, a gold trimming, to signify his superiority. The room was deadly quite, no distractions for the orb holders, using the eldritch powers to cast some form of spell. The room was akin to that of catacombs, the interesting part was as the power fluxed from the orbs and their wielders, small runes lit along the length of the struts of the room. As the ritual continued, more of the runes lit, until the entirety of the room was alive and pulsing with the ancient figures.

"Focus" The sixth figure said, his masculine voice carrying across the near empty room as he continued to circle the group. "We know not was lies on the other side, and it is best we avoid another case such as the Eternal Nightmare." Several of the group shuffled a little at this, all of them being reminded previously of how several of their kin had died to a beast torn from another reality. There was no time to reminisce about the past however, for the runes had begun to glow with a increased fervor. In the center of the five wielders formed a small slit between the air. Slowly, the slit increased in size until it was akin to the size of the orbs that created it.

"each outward with your minds, find purchase in the realm beyond ours. Be cautious, for even if it is not the void we touch it can still be a terrible danger to the un guarded mind." The sixth said, still passing around the ritual. The rift grew wider, and expanded, not to the edge of those gathered but large enough for even the tallest man to pass through.

"I have a hold, of what I do not know." Spoke one of the spell weavers.

"I to have found purchase, but I can feel the weight of something." Another spoke out in confirmation. The remaining three all cast their assurances at the weight of something other-worldly. The sixth stopped and looked at the portal before speaking again.

"Grab a hold and focus, we must do this as one." He said, raising his own arms up into a stance, eldritch glow surrounding his hands to form an orb of his own, power racing from it as he pushed it in the direction of the rift. "I join you my friends, do not lose purchase of our catch."

The rift began to simmer and pulse akin to the runes in the room, throwing a light pinkish tint over the blue glow from the orbs, swirling as a shape began to form inside the rift. As the shape grew more defined the portal buckled and contorted, strained with power beyond its size. All of the mages looked up to see the outline of a person, much larger than them, fierce and intimidating just in size. Color soon was added to the outline, until the entire figure was covered in black, trimmed with silver.

Just as the figure was seemingly about to complete, the portal released this horrifying scream, rattling what seemed to be the chamber itself. The mages sought to cover their ears but it proved to be their undoing, for as they retracted control from the orbs the rift flared its light stronger, before sending out a shockwave. The mages were knocked aside, and the rift closed itself, taking the screaming with it, but leaving the figure there as they landed among the now light deprived room.

The air was damp, the space surrounding them was dark, and the smell nigh unbearable, but that's how it was in the underhive. The lack of natural light had been established millennia ago, the underhive being the very first layers to be darkened by their successors. The establishment of lumen orbs was a necessary but those had long since lost power in this deep and dark sector of the underhive. The only thing to pierce the unending darkness was a small group of flash lights, slowly scanning the area as they proceeded at a hesitant pace. The group slowly proceeded, surrounded by ankle deep water, the flash lights that shined over it revealing its dirty brown coloring. The metal walls shone with a slimy film whenever a light would roll over them, revealing way to a corridor, that stretched for what seemed a small eternity. It was when one of the lights shone upon a great steel door that the group halted, looking up at the rusted and aged doors.

There were five lights in total, but the group was larger, from one of the group a hand rose up, fingers splaying out, two, then five, then three before dropping back down. The party reacted instantly, two of the members stepping up to the doors. One was equipped with a flash light, the other hefting a small bag from his shoulder. Opening up the bag, the two reached forth, revealing several cylinders, metal and near the size of a child's forearm. each one had both a flat end and a rounded end, gleaming a crimson tint in the light of the flashlight. The two began to place the flat ends on the door, spreading them out in a pentagram like shape. The figure with the now emptied bag now backed away from the door, watching as the remaining fellow reached out to all of the cylinders, pressing against the rounded ends causing them to glow. With haste the man backed away , moving back to the party before they as a whole took three steps back. As the glow from the cylinders pulsed stronger, the one who raised their fingers from before said a single word.

"Shield."

A blue glimmer began in the air from the person beside him, and slowly rose along their hand, up into the eagle shaped staff they carried, and surrounded the group in a dome of solid blue light. The glare from the cylinders had increased in the passing second, and right as the shield was fully completed stopped all it once. It was then that all havoc broke loose.

The cylinders exploded into the door, the air supercharged with heat as the doors bent and shredded into shrapnel into the room beyond. There were several screams that followed in the split second, accompanied by gunfire into the doorway from the other side. Red bolts flared and slapped into the shield around the group as they soundlessly charged forward, descending upon the foe in the next room. They flew forth in a seemingly fierce and controlled fashion, cutting through chosen targets with ease. Blood flew as the party ripped through their enemies, the water below inter mixing with the fading lifeblood.

The first difference from the corridor was that this room was light, albeit poorly, by fading yellow lumen orbs. The gun fire from both sides doing little but flare against the surrounding metal room to reveal the few tables and artwork upon the walls. What obscene artwork it was, shapes and colors that defied both reality and physics, the shapes in the artwork seeming to change as the light appeared and then disappeared from it. The center piece of the room however, was a stone elevation in the center of the room, atop it resting a stone alter, behind it a screaming fanatic.

His face was red and the look in his eyes was wild and dangerous, as if the man himself was not completely whole, or there for the matter. He screamed obscenities at the trespassers, firing his own single hand fire arm into the shield protecting the party members. He wore blue and purple robes, caked at the bottom by the brown water, but the most interesting, or rather, horrifying thing about the robe was how it shifted and changed hues similar to the artwork on the walls. He was not the only one, for several of his allies were dressed in similar robes, though not as elegant as his. He kept screaming as the fight continued, but that screaming wadded away as he noticed that the walls, more specifically the art work, had started to pulse in an obscene and grotesque rhythm.

A smile cracked through the fanatic's lips, his eyes widening in realization. He rose his hands into the air above the alter, focusing more on the air before him than the party as it began to part, and shift, slowly, reality and time seemed to bend and twist, creating a vortex of psychic power. The leader of the party looked up as he felt the tension in the air and the lack of the screaming from the fanatic. His own eyes widened as he looked upon the shifting air before yelling out to his comrades.

"The Alter, We Must Destroy It!"

In an instant the party turned from their various engagements, instead focusing on the alter and the fanatic. The first one to react was a party member far larger than the rest. With inhuman speed he reached to his waist, revealing a small canister with a pin. Within the second the pin was out and the grenade was sent hurling towards the base of the alter. It sailed through the air, sailing to the foot of the alter but the shifting vortex grasped it out of the air with unrealistic powers. It ascended alongside the alter to face level with the cultist, who stared at it for a mere second, his eyes slowly rising with panic.

There was an explosion, followed by a heavy scream as the fanatic was ripped apart by the point blank force of the grenade, followed up by a heavy crack as the alter unevenly split down the center and sides. There was screaming from the remaining hostiles as the party looked at the shot them down still focusing their eyes upon the remaining rift, which contorted and spasm. The leader shouted out, particularly to the man with the staff.

"Suppress that Rift, Now!"

The staff wielder reached forth, as if to grab the rift, even though several meters away from it. The rift contorted and lashed out harder, as if a wild animal as beads of perspiration dotted the staff wielders brow. Bolts of lightning now shot forth from the rift, striking the hostiles and the shield of the party alike, frying the unprotected cultist and splashing heavily against the shield. The shield withstood several more lashes before finally collapsing, the lighting suddenly stopping right after. The rift remained however, and several of the party member's weapons trailed upon it. The party watched for a few more seconds in hesitation, slowly shifting apart as they took up firing positions, before in a sudden moment the vortex expanding to resemble a portal, and a strong sucking wind came from the swirling blue and purple warp matter. The lighting returned, though not as heavily as the group tried to withstand the constant and unrelenting gale. One by one they were dragged in, slower and slower with cries of desperation and frustration. The lightning cracked and smashed the lumen globes in the room, the portal remaining as the only source of light. The largest fellow was the last to be sucked in, his pitch black and silver tinted armor unable to handle the call of the other worldly gale any longer. With a yell he flew back, sailing through the portal.

The lighting stopped, and with it the portal slowly collapsed in upon itself, until it popped out of existence with a small release in pressure, and the blood covered room was dark and silent once more.