After enduring the Mushroom Men's siege and then an attack by an entire squad of Fey'ri, Aaron no longer dared act rashly. He tried to find somewhere to shelter near the city.
He soon found a place amid the mist. Such had been Myth Drannor's glory that buildings abounded even around its outskirts. Aaron chose a low building and kicked aside the pile of stones blocking its doorway. Scarlet light and terrifying screams immediately poured out.
There were Banshees inside-and more than one!
The wails of two Banshees drew Aaron inside. The room was as bitterly cold as though it had been submerged in ice, and the floor thrummed beneath their shrieks. Following the faint sobs of despairing dead souls, the Banshees appeared as hazy, luminous figures. Thin scraps of cloth fluttered around their bodies, tangled hair shrouded their faces, and they lunged at Aaron with boundless hatred for the living.
The tangled hair parted from their faces. They reached toward Aaron, seeking to drag this equally beautiful human into the Abyss. Brimming with jealousy and hatred, they wanted to make him just like them-undead, afflicted by the same curse.
Corrupting touch!
Horrifying visage!
Wail!
Aaron barely reacted. After recalling the information on Banshees in Elminster's guide, he made just one move.
The room began to change. The walls, floor, and ceiling shifted in shape, and the entire dimension writhed before the Banshees. Though Aaron stood right there, they could no longer touch him.
Then mirrors appeared out of thin air. At their center, an abyss formed from a pool of darkness spewed black flames, constantly giving off the smell of charred flesh and spices.
Slaanesh's power permeated everything.
The very foundation of the Banshees' existence swiftly unraveled. They lost all emotion; hatred, fear, and fury gradually ceased to exist.