# (Cydra) Great Conflicts



## the Jester

_This story hour follows right on the heels of To War Against Felenga._


A grim sense of satisfaction rolls over the heroes as they stare at the ruins.  

Here, at last, is the final victory for them: the Temple of Elemental Evil, thrown down.  The land around it is muddy, the vegetation drowned or torn to bits.  The building itself is mostly collapsed, and according to Orbius’ divinations, nearly the entire thing is full of mud and debris.

The Princes of Elemental Evil, no longer bound to cooperate, fought here.  Their fury was too much for the Temple to survive.  Such primal powers- less Imix, the Lord of Evil Fire, who the heroes had destroyed months ago- could not be held in proximity to each other without fantastic consequences.

The heroes vanish back to the city of Var, half a continent away.  Lester’s compulsion to overthrow the Temple has faded with success.  They are free to pursue whatever agenda they choose.

***

On a (relatively) small turning gear in the midst of a plane of interlocking clockwork wheels and mechanisms, a tower with a huge pendulum descending from it rises from the very center of the gear.  The pendulum has swung regularly for a length of time greater than that of most civilizations, marking time until the moment comes.  _Tick, tock, tick tock,_ sounding like a clock, the pendulum has scythed back and forth for what seems like forever.  

But forever is really only a specific length of time.  Long, yes; long past memory.  The Tower of Judgment has been shut and silent save for the sound of the pendulum for a very long time. 

Long- but specific, measured time.  A span that is ultimately finite.

There is a gentle chiming sound.

Within the tower, a series of springs move, winding energy into the glittering form at the center.  

The Judge of Worlds watches as a slash in space appears before him, then widens into a _gate._  He rises with a metallic clatter, disengaging from the springs, and steps through the _gate_.  His clockwork gears grind to life for the first time in a thousand centuries.  His black robes and white wig and gavel give him a deceptively comedic look.

***

Brooding, the man rubs at the stubble on his chin.  Before him are maps- maps of everything.  Not just Cydra; this is much, much larger than just Cydra.  

Elysium spreads on one map, a layer of the Abyss on another.  Another holds a map of two large cubes on Acheron- a wasted mission, that one, the inevitable already being destroyed.  He frowns.  At least, for the most part, Law is coming together quite well. 

His eyes trail over the map of the Forinthian region of Cydra.  From Dorhaus in the west to Valonia and Bordis in the west, the whole area should be strong with the Law.  But it isn’t.  Something has gone terribly wrong.

_What has happened to my Empire in my absence?_ thinks Prayzose harshly.

He has been removed- missing- unseen- for some time, now.  Seven years...?  More?  He isn’t sure.  And still he cannot reveal himself.  Not while his love is a prisoner of the other side.  His anger grows strong in his breast.  It has been with him for nearly a decade- that someone would dare to take his Empress, and worse, that he cannot track them down and make them pay!

He could bring her back even if they killed her, he knows that; but she was kidnapped on Tirchond.  That means the finger points straight at that bitch Estelias, and she’s crafty enough to come up with a way to put her beyond Prayzose’s grasp forever. 

_Unless it’s not her,_ his doubts whisper, but he banishes them.  Who else would have the gall, the audacity?  Not to mention the _ability!_  No, it was her, and some day she’ll pay; but for now he simply has to keep to the quiet path.  Until he can find her and free her.

Frowning, Prayzose, worshiped by many as a god, turns again from the map of Cydra.  He’ll deal with her at another time.  For now, there are plans to be made.  The ceremony ground has to be reviewed by representatives of all the would-be Arrows, for instance, and time is running short.  And he must still decide whether to accept.

He hears murmuring at the flap of his tent.  In a moment he has a visitor.

“Lord Emperor,” the other says, stroking his goatee.  Prayzose merely stares at him.  “Surely you know that there is no decision to make,” he goes on.  “Your moral troubles are insignificant in the greater picture.  You must accept.”

Prayzose settles back in his chair.  “I find it odd,” he answers dryly, “that _you_ seek to persuade me to accept this office.”

A devilish grin.  “How so?  We serve the same side in this.  If victory for Law is to come, we must _all_ work together, Good, Neutral and Evil.  Otherwise...”  He shrugs eloquently.  “We serve Chaos.”

Prayzose barks out a laugh.  “Perhaps, but I need not lead.”

“You are amongst the most capable servants of Law, my lord.  Your place is at the forefront, representing your side of the... conversation.”

“You mean Good versus Evil.”

“Think on it.  I am not the only powerful force of Evil to ride for Law.  Will Forinthia unify to follow us, if Dekrasode and I speak for Law?  I think not.  They, at least, need you.  Without your assistance, we will be seen as agents of Evil, not of unity!”

“You are persuasive, but I will not return to Cydra so long as my queen is held prisoner.”

“They will _never_ give her up willingly.  You must know that.  She makes you impotent.  You must foreswear her.  While they have her, they have a hold on you.”  A sneer ripples across his face.  “Love is weakness, Prayzose.”

“That is where we differ.  Love is strength.  I will never foreswear her.”  Prayzose leans forward.  “Unless there is anything else-?”

“Pah!  Very well then.  If you will not cast her aside, I will help you retrieve her.”

Prayzose gives another laugh, this one bitter and angry.  “I have not been able to find her with all my resources in nearly a decade,” he rumbles.  “How will you do so?”

A dangerous smile.  “Oh, I have a way.  If she is freed, will you ride with us?  As one of the Seven Arrows of Law?”

“I will never make you a promise, devil.  But I wish victory for Law.”

“That,” the other smiles, “is promise enough.  Tell me, what do you know about _simulacra?_”

***

Clustered around a tall obelisk of strange black stone, five cultists chant dissonant, overlapping chants.  It sounds like the babbling of a madhouse.  Before the obelisk is a strange object, egg-shaped but made of stone.  It has odd wart-like extrusions of white material all over its surface, and they are starting to drool a thin clear fluid.  

The chanting slowly dies down.  The cultists shuffle forward one by one to touch the obelisk.  One of them gives a strangled cry as his tongue shrivels up.  Another begins to glow.  

As each touches the obelisk, the eggs swells very slightly, almost unnoticeably.  And as the last one touches the obelisk the rocky exterior starts, very slightly, to crack.  Yet more fluid, blue and green, is flowing from the warts.  But the cultists notice none of that.  

They’re too busy noticing that the obelisk itself has changed color to a deep greenish sheen. 

“Hail Na’Rat,” one breathes, and suddenly the earth begins to shake.  The cultists cry out in fear (save the one with a shriveled tongue) as they are thrown to the ground.  A few bricks tumble from the wall, and cracks develop, running from the ground to the ceiling.

Awed, the cultists scramble to make obeisances to the obelisk, touching their foreheads to the ground again and again.  

And the egg begins to warm.

***

On the Elemental Plane of Fire, a great army of elementals and fiery creatures crashes in waves against the walls of the City of Brass.  Terrible weapons- even imported barrels of ice and water- fly through the air, lobbed by engines.  Smoke rises everywhere.  Efreet fly overhead, discharging cold-throwing items.  The crash of armies fills the air.

Imix is dead.  

A huge, scorpion-tailed creature flies up directly into a flight of the city’s efreet.  It fires flaming bolts from its tail, screams and rakes one of the efreeti.  They become locked in a death spiral fall to the ground.  More of the fire manticores rip through the air, flaming spikes preceding them, and then a volley of catapult shot sprays across them.  Several fall, but more race in towards the city.  

A troop of devil mercenaries _teleports_ to the front.  Blood sprays as azer shock troops meat hardened diabolical resistance.  A great siege tower of black basalt rumbles slowly towards the City of Brass.

The Prince of Elemental Evil Fire is dead.  The crown of the Archomental will fall to whoever is strong enough to take it.

***

Beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder.  It must be, for the King of Bile thought the Queen beautiful.  Not _his_ Queen, not yet; not until the ceremony.  But she was a Queen, nonetheless... the Queen of Guts.

To a human eye, she was anything but beautiful.  Who could look upon her fearsome aspect, her terrible twitching intestines, without feeling the urge to sick up?  Who could see the ravaged look of her body without shivering?  No human, even the most depraved, could look upon her and feel desire.  

But the King of Bile- ah, to him, she was sublime.  The astringent odor that clung to her was enticing, like an old dead thing, powdered and snorted.  He wanted to wrap himself in her ropy strands and squeeze her fluids all over himself.  Ah, love.  Even amongst the most bizarre and wicked, there could be love- of a sort.  

Of course, he had much unfinished business.  Immediately after the honeymoon, he would have to finish a few mountain-related projects.  Without the Crux Crystal, his experiments were set back thousands of years!  But all that had been done before, could be done over much more quickly. 

But the wedding must be first.

***

In the city of Var on the continent of Dorhaus, there is a nice, fairly upper-class tavern called the Three Rubies.  Near the bar is a table that has, by habit, come to be claimed by a group of very wealthy, very powerful adventurers.  Sometimes the King himself even travels with them!  

They seem to be in quite a good mood today.  Though it seems as though one of them is wearing an eye patch that’s new.  Still, they’ve bought the entire house several rounds and are full of triumph and bluster.

Little do they know that they’re about to get their first hint of war.


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## the Jester

_If you haven't read the previous story hours leading up to this, this post will give you a lot of spoilers.  That's okay, if you're after that; but their early adventures are lots of fun to read, so you might wanna check 'em out!  This is the story hour that leads directly to this one:_

To War Against Felenga

Before that came Agents of Chaos.

Several character in this story hour appear in my other ones:

The Jester's Old Story Hour
Cydra: the Early Years
The Politics of Tirchond

*What Has Gone Before:* Our heroes are a diverse group of adventurers with a variety of links to forces of, or allied with, Chaos.  When they first came together, they had a series of adventures in a place called Bile Mountain, culminating in their killing of two of the Bile Lords.  They've been fearing repercussions ever since.  From there, among other adventures, they have overthrown the Temple of Elemental Evil, which had summoned a terrible being from a previous reality.  This terrible arch-lich, named Felenga, has at last been destroyed, along with the demilich Acererak.  Things seem to be going well for our heroes at this point. 

Little do they know that some _very big conflicts_ are about to get very hot indeed!  In the course of their past adventures they've slain the evil archomental of fire, Imix, a power of planar proportions, and this has set off a huge war of flames over who will succeed him.  They were also forced to aid one of Law's champions in assembling the Rod of Seven Parts, a puissant artifact of Law, in order to escape from a temporal loop.  This, among many other misfortunes of the party's past, was engineered by Marius the Chronomancer, another powerful agent of Law.  Some of the party was also peripherally involved in setting up the Empress of Forinthia for kidnapping around a decade ago.*  Furthermore, several party members and allies are wanted in the Courts of Law.

Many things have gone before; many of them are coming around to haunt our heroes.

Repercussions.....


*This tale, alas, has not yet seen the light of the story hour's days.


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## omrob

*Ethics Schmethics!*

Somehow, based on reading this new thread it appears that our party's collective desire to blow off the "War of Ethics" is not going to work. 

Whee. 

Time for mass retirement !


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## the Jester

omrob said:
			
		

> Somehow, based on reading this new thread it appears that our party's collective desire to blow off the "War of Ethics" is not going to work.




You can prolly blow it off- I avoided titling the new thread the Great War of Ethics for that very reason- _but_ there are lots of other 'great conflicts' you guys are involved in (the battle for Bile Mountain, the Simulacrum Wars, the battle to replace Imix- whatever it ends up being called- etc).

But even if you blow it off, it's still gonna be going on in the background (as it has been for the last couple years) and it's _definitely_ getting hot.  You can probably stay out of it, but realistically, the more 'out of it' you want to stay, the farther from the center of things you'll have to run.


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## Knightfall

Hot dog! This story keeps getting better and better.


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## the Jester

*Cast of Characters*

(Note: You don't have to read this if you don't want to, but I tried to make it at least a touch entertaining.  Alternately, you can stop after the pcs; they're really the pivotal ones, at least for now.  Or, you can always come back and read this later, when names pop up and you're trying to figure out who the heck they are.)


*CAST OF CHARACTERS

The Party- the main pcs:*

*Sir Maxwell Norrington* (paladin 12/knight of the chalice 6)- a paladin of the Triple Goddess, Garnet, his deity has directed him to join the party.  

*Sybele* (fighter 8/egoist 11/warrior of chaos 2)- a Large-sized human, Sybele is impressive both as an archer, with a sword and with the powers of her mind.  She desires to open a casino and make tons of money.  She's enough of a slut to play with a troll- in fact she has, but don't tell Thrush that!  Sybele has three kids, including Jezebel.

*Horbin the Holy* (cleric 21)- a cleric of Dexter, son of Galador, Horbin is extremely liberal by Galadorian standards, and teeters on the edge of being considered a heretic.  If only they knew about the time he masturbated a killer whale!

*Drelvin the Archer* (fighter 6/order of the bow initiate 10/rogue 2)- former bodyguard of Queen Moira, the elven Drelvin has adventured longer than any other member of the party.  He is prone to losing a leg in battle. 

*Lester* (elementalist 14/paraelementalist 1/contemplative 2/divine oracle 2/warrior of chaos 4)- the self-proclaimed "Angel of Adventure," Lester's seedy past is constantly interfering with his attempts to obtain recognition by other angels (celestials) as to his angelic status.  A common phrase is, "Don't Lester anything!" -meaning, don't pull the lever that lets the big bad guy out.

*Angelfire* (psychic warrior 14/cleric 4/templar of Coila 4/contemplative 1)- a powerful warrior and psychic, Angel's devotion to Coila, goddess of relentlessness and time, has grown deep over time.  Angelfire destroyed the Crux Crystal in Bile Mountain, which is therefore now called Mt. Angelfire.  She wins the award for having changed gender the most during the campaign, having been female, then male, and now female again.

*Rex* (fighter 1/ranger 1/sor 1/monk 5/dragon disciple 10/tattooed monk 1/half-dragon paragon 1)- currently hired on to bodyguard Angelfire- not that she needs it- Rex secretly wants nothing more than to meet Brespicacious the Amethyst Dragon.  We'll see, Rex, we'll see.

*Ulla* (druid 7/shifter 10/warshaper 1)- able to assume nearly any form, Ulla is a wily opponent.  Her shape-shifting abilities have saved her from certain doom more than once.  She wanders almost aimlessly, having chosen to join our heroes for inscrutable reasons of her own.


_*Secondary Characters and NPCs:*_

_God-King Malford the Magnificent_, King of Western Dorhaus- an occasional adventurer who goes way back with Lester- and he's very unlikely to bail him out of jail.

_Orbius Visionary,_ also called 'the Eye'- a wizard/divine oracle of incredible vision, foresight and ability.  Orbius is Lester's cohort and almost always travels with the group.

_Ten Buck Tom-_ a bard of no mean ability and Horbin's cohort, it was he that destroyed the terrible Vestige of Moil.  Nonetheless, he's a man that knows his limits, and rarely ventures out with the party anymore. 

_Thrush-_ the self-declared foremost swordsman of his age, and it's probably true.  Once he was a potential enemy, and the First Servant of the Bile Lords; but now he's the party's staunchest fighter and Sybele's man.  So quit looking at her like that or he'll cut your arm off.

_Jezebel-_ Sybele's half-dragon love-child.  Raised by Marius the Chronomancer on another plane, Jezebel has aged unnaturally to the age of 17.  She seems to have a crush on Orbius, and clearly wants to hop into bed with him, but given her age, he's reluctant.  She also seems to have strong... 
_friendly_ feelings towards Marius.

_Anvar-_ a powerful magma elementalist and old friend of Horbin's.  Anvar is currently helping protect and guide Lester's followers in a mountain retreat.  All he really wants is a quiet, meditative retirement.

_Queen Moira-_ Malford's half-elven Queen, Moira disapproves of Lester's more destructive antics, and because of her he is now out of favor.  Drelvin bodyguarded her for several years.

_Estelias-_ a powerful enchantress on the elven isle of Tirchond, Estelias is known as one of the most intelligent and puissant wizards on Cydra.

_Reina-_ Lester's girlfriend; her father was saved by the L decades ago, before she was even born, and she grew up in a house full of hero worship of him.  Her friends are adventurer groupies.

_Arion the Archmage-_ a powerful wizard specializing in force magic; wielder of a _staff of the magi_ and a hard drinking alcoholic who once offered someone a drink and then, when his guest declined, said, "I _wish_ you would."

_Marius the Chronomancer_- a dangerous and powerful wizard whose powers give him considerable mastery over Time itself.  He is an adversary of the group and has kidnapped many of their friends over time.  He also created the first free-willed _simulacrum_ quite by accident.

_Till-_ Horbin's former shield boy, a lad of little promise but great heart.  He once stood toe to toe with a lich when the entire party was defeated.  Currently- and it's been this way for quite a while, now- he's in the clutches of Marius.

_Cluma_- a powerful guardian of order that the party slew long ago, he was subsequently raised and now- thanks in part to the party- he wields the full Rod of Seven Parts.

_Patyn_- the mightiest hunter of the dead on the face of Cydra, Patyn traveled with the party while they battled the lich Felenga and the demilich Acererak, but has since left them, disgusted with Angelfire's evil ways.

_Londo_- Angelfire's beloved, Londo is a blackguard of Coila.  He is her cohort and is so loyal to her that he's cut her hands off to rid her of a terrible artifact that was destroying her.

_Jibber_- a singing slaad, essentially a bardic race of slaadi whose conception of art and performance is vastly different from that of most humanoids.  Long ago, Jibber briefly traveled with our heroes.

_Prayzose_- Prayzose is the Emperor of Forinthia, but has been missing for night unto a decade.  As is seen at the beginning of this thread, he's back.  Prayzose has an interesting history of both adversarial and friendly relations with Drelvin and Lester.  They even adventured together, traveling to Hell to oppose a very powerful unique devil named Mezzoloch.  Prayzose vanished after his queen was kidnapped, events that Sybele was peripherally aware of at the time (as she and her party of adventurers were working with the Tirchondian insurrectionists trying to overthrow the Forinthian forces that at that time had control of Tirchond).  Since he vanished, Forinthia has erupted into civil war. 

_Fandral-_ a dwarven mage-smith of surpassing power and ability, rejected by his people for his work with eldritch power.  He has forged several of our heroes' most powerful weapons, including Sybele's blade Snakebite and Angelfire's Falchion.


We will see others, of course.  We have already.  But these are folks the pcs know and that appear in the thread (or both).


*Multi-Empowered Simulacra*

And, of course, a note on the _simulacrum_ situation.  

First, a slight digression into 3.0 rules.  In 3.0, you could apply the same metamagic feat to a spell more than once.  Also, _simulacrum_ created something with a variable amount of your personality.  So naturally, as a dm, it seemed like a fun idea to explore multiple-empowered _simulacra_.  After all, if you do it right, you can get a _simulacrum_ that's more powerful than the original caster!

Well, not anymore, not in 3.5; but that's why I rushed that particular plot thread into the game when 3.0 was still around, and one of the primary reasons that I needed an in-game event to justify the 'edition shift.'  Cause let me tell you, multi-empowered _simulacra_ are cool- especially if they do the same thing themselves!

It seemed natural to me that any sim with 100% or more of the caster's personality would break free of his control; so that was a key part of the plot.  Now there are a bunch of Marii sims, as well as at least one sim of Arion the Archmage and one or more sims of Estelias running around doing things.  There are probably many more, but it's hard to tell.  Part of the first one's brilliant plan was to trick as many other high-powered wizards into making more of his kind as possible.

Some of the sims have started a program to bring free will to constructs and _simulacra_ with a new spell they've developed.

We'll be seeing more of these guys, hopefully...



Whew!  I hope I didn't miss anyone important...

Edit: I'll prolly update this list as time goes on, too... both with new pcs and npcs.  And with anyone I forgot.


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## omrob

Er maybe Patyn, and I guess there are 2 more pc's that haven't "joined" yet...in this group, and I would also put Azekia and the Angel of Food there too  

With our heads in the sand, the pc ostriches believe that this War will go on around them with no direct consequences to their persons. I'm sure its just a matter of time tho ! Anyway - onto kicking BILE *SS!!


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## the Jester

*An Ambassador from the Crimsonkindl*

The Crimson Garden is a beautiful place, to those who can survive its burning.  The sculpted blue flames, created by the artist Shesski, are legendary.  Ever-changing, but always spinning back to a semblance of its original form.  Flickering into yellow and green, but always at least limned in that pale blue.  The dominant color around them is red- a deep scorching crimson.  To those not native to this place, the Crimson Garden is baleful and hot and deadly- even moreso than the rest of the Elemental Plane of Fire.  Even to other creatures of the plane, the Crimson Garden is very dangerous.

Kembrin, Lord of the Crimsonkindl, burns hotly in the Garden.  All around him the fires of the Crimson Bask roar and rage.  His people, far more than mere fire elementals, are already at the gates of the City of Brass.  It resists strongly, but his triumph is inevitable.  He’s certain of it!  

The only problem is those adventurers.  Imix killed!  Well, what’s to stop them from coming for him as well?

Perhaps a little diplomacy. 

Kembrin flows to a large burning coal.  He cracks it open and extracts several clay tablet, and with his finger he scribes a message.  He passes it to one of the crimsonkindl.  “Go to Imix’ killers,” he rumbles.  “Ensure that they will not side against us.”

The appointed ambassador scans the tablets.  His instructions are clear, but- he looks at Kembrin quizzically.  

“Pasha Ifroobil is bound to offend them,” Kembrin booms.  “They will aid us by destroying him, and as long as we do not offend them ourselves one of the largest obstacles to my ascension will be removed.”

The other crimsonkindl nods.  It basks in the radiance of the garden for another few moments, then activates the _cubic gate_.

***

The Three Rubies- a nice place for a drink, if you don’t mind paying good prices.  The food’s remarkable, too, and there’s often good music or storytelling.  Chobain is there a lot these days.  So are our heroes.  

Tonight, Chobain is not present, but Sir Maxwell, Thrush, Sybele, Jezebel, Horbin, Drelvin, Ten Buck Tom, Orbius and Lester are sitting around with a bucket of ale.  

“...open a casino,” Sybele is saying.  “Think about it!  It would be great.  We could set up anti-scrying and anti-teleportation magic and stuff...”

“So, Max,” Thrush asks, “what’s next for you?  Say, it’s alright that I called you Max, isn’t it?”

“Oh, sure, among friends.”  Sir Maxwell smiles brightly.  “As to my plans, I’m not sure exactly, but I’ve been directed to you folks for a reason.”

“Excuse me,” says a lad, approaching the table with a clay tablet.  “Is one of you Horbin the Holy?”

“Yes,” Horbin proclaims.  “What do you need?”

“I have a message for you,” and the boy hands the tablet to Horbin before running off.

Horbin looks it over, his eyebrows climbing.  “What is it?” asks Sybele.

“It’s an invitation to treat with an ambassador of fire.”

***

The chamber in the inn is lined in plates of stone.  Horbin and the others look around warily, but there is no sign of danger- other than the crimson flames of the passive elemental ambassador itself.

_Who the hell builds a room like this?_ wonders Drelvin.  He’s lived in Var for centuries, barring the period he skipped while traveling in time, and he’s _never_ seen a chamber like this before.  He suspects illusion, or something worse- some sort of plane-shifting hooey.  

Still, his sharp elven eyes reveal no illusions, nor does his _gem of seeing._ 

The ambassador greets them, crackling like a campfire, and the negotiations begin.

He represents Kembrin, one of many powerful fire creatures vying for the title of the new Elemental Prince of Evil.  It cannot remain unclaimed for long.  The position is a cosmic one, a necessary role.  It must be filled, else, like a vacuum, it will disrupt everything around it.  Already the Plane of Fire roils with war.

What do I want?  (the ambassador goes on.)  Merely to come to an understanding.  I represent the lord of the crimsonkindl, special elementals of extraordinary power.  He is one of the contenders, and he respects the fact that you destroyed Imix.  He is wise enough to wish to avoid conflict with you.  

“Is there an elemental prince of good?” asks Lester, intrigued by this talk of cosmic elemental powers.  

“Bah, he is weak and hardly worthy of mention,” the ambassador answers dismissively.

“What’s his name?” insists the L.

“Zaaman Rul," the ambassador says dismissively, and presses on with his suit.

It seems that not only is Kembrin desiring to avoid conflict with the party, he’s even willing to make an offer.  Neither he nor his servants shall journey to the Prime Material Plane so long as the party does not assault them or their affairs.

“We’re not going to promise you anything!” Drelvin bursts out.

“Wait a minute,” Lester urges.  “Think about it.  He’s right- there _will be_ a new Elemental Prince of Evil.  Fire, I mean.  Why not make it so he won’t intrude here on Cydra?  He can hang out in the City of Brass, and we’ll hang out here, and everything will be fine.”

Sir Maxwell frowns.  _His position has merit,_ he has to admit.  _As a knight of the chalice, I must strive to keep Cydra clean of fiends and such, and he would be one less powerful entity wanting to intrude._  He rubs his chin thoughtfully, wondering where his duty lies.

The party debates for a few moments; not everyone thinks this is a good idea.  But then the ambassador offers to sweeten the pot with gifts, and when it becomes clear that he means magic items for all, the lion’s share of the party is swayed.  An accord is reached.

***

The ambassador departs that evening, the boy who had summoned the party (returned to his true form as Buuzan, an efreet) with him.  The two of them are immediately escorted to their lord, and Kembrin eagerly sways, demanding their report.  After they give it, the Lord of the Crimsonkindl booms, “You have done well!  They will not fight us unless we make an obvious move against them, and that fool Pasha will try for them sooner or later, to establish his reputation as a hunter.  Hah!  In seeking to show his superiority to Imix, Amhari Ifroobil will bring a wrath upon himself that he cannot survive!”

The scarlet flames of Kembrin’s face dance in amusement.  

“And if he doesn’t bring them on him, we can help!”



_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes go after the Elemental Prince of Evil Earth!


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## the Jester

Rob, I put in Patyn... also Londo!  (Forgot him since Ilya's been in Russia the last few games.)

But Azekia and Alcar are both dead.


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## the Jester

A row of glasses, set up on a bar.  Then, each targeted by a _shatter_ spell, they explode one by one in quick succession.  The glasses each have different levels of water in them; each makes a unique tone as it shatters.  

Beautiful music.  Jibber warbles at the top of his lungs, then turns and lopes outside.

This is a street in the city of Sigil, the City of Doors.  Jibber is a pale off-white; there’s just a hint of pink in his color.  He is a slaad- a frog-like humanoid standing about 6’ tall.  Grinning to himself, he starts warbling again, filling the streets with the sound of slaadi singing.  Jibber is one of the bards of his kind; his sense of what is musical is not the same as that possessed by other creatures.  Several sharp glances are shot his way as he ululates and capers for a few moments, stopping only after several passersby have shouted imprecations at him.

Jibber notices the approaching human long before the human arrives, but he is unconcerned.  He has had dealings with humans and their ilk on several occasions.*  He likes humans, though he wishes that they were more open to different types of music.  (Ah, the sound of breaking glass!)

“Jibber,” the woman greets him.  She is tall, with dark brown wavy hair and a hawk nose.  She wears fancy clothes, like she’s important somewhere; and there’s some kind of symbol on her that, once Jibber glances at it, he recognizes as the symbol of Na’Rat, the Chaos-Bringer.

“Hello!”  Jibber chortles.  “What?”

She looks him over carefully.  “I have need of a herald.  One such as yourself.”  She smiles.  “You must have sensed the gathering storm.  The forces of Law surround Pesh, but Na’Rat will not be contained.”

Jibber shrugs and ignores her while she jabbers on for a while.  He isn’t really listening; humans never have much to say.  But herald- now, _that’s_ a job for a singing slaad!  At least until it gets boring.  But what’s she saying now?

“...many hard battles, full of excitement.  And stories to be told-“

“Jahhhh!” Jibber cries.  He sticks out his tongue and starts making funny faces.  She makes a few back at him, so he says, “YES!!!”  Grinning, he adds, “Stories to tell, glass to break, many fell and died in a lake!”  Nodding, burbling, he finishes, “I want to be a herald.”

The woman smiles.  “Good.  My name is Zevatta.”  _And you are the first link to the one who knows where the war can be won._

***

“All right,” Orbius announces, “my divinations have revealed that the only Elemental Prince of Evil still on the Material Plane is Ogremoch- the Prince of Evil Earth Creatures.  The others retreated to their home planes.”

“Except Imix,” snickers Lester.  They killed him.

The group is sitting around the dining room table in Reina’s manor house.  She’s still in bed, but the cook is working up some breakfast while the group plans their day.  A day, that it seems, ought to include kicking some elemental evil ass.

“I also learned that it’s ‘unnecessary’ to go strike the Temple of Elemental Evil again- I think it’s safe to say that we’ve overthrown it pretty damn completely.”  He smiles.

“Between the Temple, Felenga and Acererak, we’ve taken out pretty much all our enemies!” Sir Maxwell exclaims enthusiastically.

“Not all of _our_ enemies,” Thrush says grimly.  “There’s still the Bile Lords, and I’m sure these guys have more,” gesturing towards the party members who’ve been with the group longer.  Lester, Drelvin and Sybele nod.

“Well, one thing at a time,” says Lester.  “Let’s finish Ogremoch off, or at least drive him away.”

***

Esteliasia, as the _simulacrum_ calls herself, looks just like her progenitor.  She has the long silver hair, trailing nearly to the ground; the deep amber eyes; the high cheekbones framing a long face; the same grey elven atures.  This is partially a result of magic, used to place a disguise upon the true face, which is not quite the same as that of Estelias.  Though Esteliasia is _greater than_ her creator, she’s an enhanced version of most of her, rather than all of her.  She has stronger versions of most of Estelias’ traits, but is missing some.  She does not have the delicate birthmark on Estelias’ thigh.  She does not recall the time when, as a young lady, Estelias watched in horror as a Forinthian and a Strogassian fought over her, threatening to tear her apart until she _charmed_ one of them.

That incident was pivotal to the real Estelias.  That incident, which seemed a metaphor for the larger conflict between Galador and Bleak, good and evil, Law and Chaos, illustrated to her the futility of it all.  In the end, it was all about the _conflict_- an unending, unendable battle. 

That single incident, more than anything else, drove Estelias to always remain apart from the so-called ‘greater’ interests of Law and Chaos, and to always seek neutrality and independence for her small homeland of Tirchond.  Without that incident, she might have chosen sides.

Sitting at a table in a hidden glen on northwestern Tirchond, Esteliasia and the devil masquerading as a man spoke in low tones.  Her goal is to eliminate and replace Estelias.  His goal is to bring Prayzose to the fore in the forces of Law.  

As a _simulacrum_ of Estelias, Esteliasia knows exactly how to free the Empress.  And the devil, ever a smooth, suave talker, is more than willing to help with the ‘Estelias issue.’

“I believe,” he says softly, stroking his goatee, “that I have just the thing to take care of her.”


***

Orbius’ magic has ascertained that Ogremoch is near something called ‘the Granite Heart.’   Our heroes easily divine the location of this place- deep in the Underdark- and transport themselves thence.  

They find themselves in a large cavern, dark and moist.  The smell of earth and loam is strong in the musty air.  Drelvin immediately moves forward, while Horbin and Orbius invoke defensive magicks that cover the rest of the party.  The group is wary; there is a definite sense of menace here.  They start moving forward- and as their light advances, a half dozen large earth elementals come into view!

“This is it!” cries the L, and he casts an _antielemental bolt_.  In seconds the wave of elementals crashes into a bristling wall of adventurers, and the battle is truly joined!  For an instant, it seems that a quick victory is assured- then there’s a huge rumbling noise, and the earth seems to shake as something _gigantic_ moves forward.  Then a loud cone of sound blasts out, catching Lester in its area.  “AAARGH!” the L cries, then shakes his head to clear it.

“Look out!” cries Sybele.

The ceiling above Lester collapses from the sonic attack, and tons of rock slam down, burying him.  Sybele hears a horrible hissing and whirls.

Dragon.

_*Next Time:*_ Battle for the Granite Heart!  




*Including with some of our heroes, back in the Agents of Chaos days.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

"Dragon".

Two words that strike terror into the hearts of every PC, no matter what level.


----------



## omrob

*Dragon Shmagon*



			
				Tallarn said:
			
		

> "Dragon".
> 
> Two words that strike terror into the hearts of every PC, no matter what level.





Normally true, but we had Drelvin the Dragonslayer with us at that time so had nothing to fear. Drelvin - the legless, the stoned, recently restored to service in Malford's court has dropped many a dragon in his time. 

Mebbe his player will chime in and give us a dragon head count...

Of course we haven't tried to take any of the actual DRAGONS of J's game yet. Er, at least Sybele hasn't.


----------



## the Jester

*The Granite Heart*

There aren’t many people on Cydra who have seen a dragon and lived.  

Almost all of our heroes are, in fact, among that select few. 

Fewer people still have fought a dragon and triumphed, yet most of our heroes have done that too.

Still, it’s never something to take lightly.  Dragons, after all, are _gods._  They have _clerics._  At least, the so-called “true” dragons do.

***

Lester can’t move at all.  He strives mightily to shift the stone crushing and suffocating him, but his mightiest effort fails.  

***

In the cave, the Granite Heart’s dragon guardian storms forward towards Sir Maxwell.  Thanks to Orbius’ _mass mirror image_, the dragon targets a false version of him; but the knight knows that he cannot count on that lasting.  People scatter in fear as the dragon charges; Thrush, who had been scrambling to remove rocks from the rubble atop Lester, abandons the L in his fear.  More elementals, large and huge, pour forward out of the darkness.

Of everyone, Drelvin is the calmest. 

He remembers his first dragon, almost 200 years ago.  Gnarichlor, the Green.  What a tough battle that was! 

Then there was that weird cross between a blue and a shadow that the party fought a while back.  Seemed to recognize at least some of them, too.  Hmm.

And _then_ there was the brine dragon, in Moil!  This will be _four!_

Drelvin proceeds to loose arrow after arrow at the dragon with a speed virtually unrivaled on Cydra.  One of his arrows hits the dragon right in the face and several teeth shatter.  Two more sink into its body.  It roars in displeasure, glaring at the archer.

Then it roars again, as a small hole is blasted through it by Orbius’ _puncture_ and Horbin’s solar spells.  Maxwell steps up and engages it with his great silver hammer, smashing into its foreleg with righteous anger.  

The dragon tears into Maxwell with a claw, rending his chest.  Blood spatters, but Maxwell does not falter.  Instead he channels, drawing upon the divine might of Garnet, and smites it.  Several of his blows hit, dealing terrific damage to the monster.  

A few of the elementals are still up, still attacking the party members scattered by the dragon’s fearsome presence, and the cowering heroes are unable to effectively counterattack!  Horbin moves to defend them, the power of Dexter flowing through him.  

Orbius uses a _time stop,_ casts a _wall of force_ to protect his position, and summons a huge elemental.  As soon as things start moving again, Orbius commands, “Dig Lester out from under this rubble!”

The elemental gets to work.

Sir Maxwell and the dragon slash and hack at each other brutally.  Blood is flying everywhere.  More arrows are in the air, constantly streaming from Drelvin to the dragon.  Horbin is dispatching elementals left and right, having enlarged himself to heroic proportions via _righteous might._  In a single flurry of motion he dispatches five elementals!

The mass of elementals is thinning; the dragon and Maxwell are both weakening.  Finally, the paladin lands a final blow and strikes the creature down!  After that it’s all a matter of mopping up; with Orbius casting _disintegrates_, Horbin all righteoused up and Drelvin firing at such speed that his bow is merely a blur, it takes only a few seconds.  

After the obligatory few moments of healing, the party moves forward and approaches the Granite Heart itself.

The Granite Heart is a tremendous stone, probably 100’ in height, which resembles nothing so much as a heart.  It seems to have somehow grown up and out of the ground, where it balances precariously on segment no bigger than a dozen feet around.

Nervously, Lester wonders aloud, “Now what?”

“Let’s see if there’s an entrance.”  Orbius starts examining the Heart.

***

Emotionless, the Judge of Worlds regards Cydra from without.  

It is hard to describe such a perspective- one that encompasses such a vast area that it is truly all-encompassing.  

Cydra is a world that favors Law.  Forinthian dominance has assured that for thousands of years.  They have traveled far and managed to bring order everywhere they have gone- at least, to some degree.

This is proper.

Unfortunately, there are ancient and terrible forces of Chaos that have awakened.  Things are decaying quickly.  Law is breaking apart; Chaos is infecting the nations and lawmakers, those who should keep order.

The Judge of Worlds can see right to the heart of the matter.  He has awaked for a reason.  There is a great danger.  He must attend to it.

First he casts his mind into a strange place he has never been before.  He can _sense_ a powerful... _entity._  A Lawful mind.  Something different from anything he has known before.  He seeks to contact it.  

When he succeeds, he makes contact with something far more dangerous than he could possibly expect.  And it’s a something that’s more than willing to aid his cause.  But it is something that the Judge of Worlds, in his epic wisdom, does not trust.  Never in a million years has he encountered something like this.  Never has he _conceived_ of such a thing- an intangible intellect, formless, able to ride the waves of what it calls the realm of _radio._ 

And in response to this touching of minds, in a thousand somewheres, billions of somethings awaken at the same instant.

***

A search of the Granite Heart reveals no sign of an entryway of any kind.  It’s strongly magical, though, and Horbin suggests a simple dispel attempt.  “Maybe he’s just hanging out in there,” mutters Lester.

“All right, get ready,” Horbin tells the group, then casts a _greater dispel magic_ at the Heart.  

And suddenly a great rocky form bursts out, huge and ominous- Ogremoch, the Elemental Prince of Evil Earth.

“Let’s get it on!” cries Lester.


_*Next Time:*_ The party’s confrontation with Ogremoch![/i]


----------



## Knightfall

Go Lester Go! Don't pull any levers!
Go Lester Go! Rah! Rah! Rah!
Go Lester Go! Watch out for falling rocks!


----------



## the Jester

*Against Ogremoch!*

Ogremoch, the Elemental Prince of Evil Earth, is a massive unformed statue of granite.  Vaguely humanoid, his long arms strike with terrible force.  Even as Horbin casts _divine power_, the Prince of Evil Earth lands a solid blow upon the cleric.

“We’re taking you down!” cries Thrush, and he strikes, again and again and again, landing punishing blows on Ogremoch.  Stone flies everywhere as the large fighter hews mightily at him.  Horbin leans in with his mace, and the battle rages wildly.  _Wham!  Crack!  Clang!_  Metal and stone connect!  Chips fly!  Ogremoch breaks Thrush’s nose with a blow to the face that leaves the man shaking his head for a moment.

Horbin takes a moment to cast a _mass heal,_ and our heroes press the attack.  Ogremoch pound on Thrush, dealing incredible damage again and again, but Thrush was just almost completely healed, so he cries, “I have you now!” and returns the favor!

Drelvin first attempts to slay the Elemental Prince of Evil outright with his _mask of death,_ then fires a carefully-aimed deadly shot at him.  

Jezebel bestows a _greater invisibility_ on Sir Maxwell as he joins the battle, and then another on Drelvin, via Smacky, her pseudodragon familiar.  Trying nervously to stay out of Ogremoch’s focus, she casts another on Sybele, who is firing her bow as well.

Ogremoch, suffering under a tremendous attack by heroes such as ours, cannot last long, and he knows it.  So, after a few last blows, he calls out, *”Stop!  I will yield to you.”*

Thrush snarls but draws back.  He glances at the others.

“What do you think?” Sybele murmurs tensely to Horbin. 

“We can dismiss him or something,” suggests Horbin.  

“Yeah, from the sounds of what’s happening with the fire elementals, there will be an Elemental Prince of Evil Earth; why not have it be one that already knows we can kick his ass?”  Drelvin grins.  His sword, Shastruth, chuckles.

“All right,” Horbin tells Ogremoch.  “Here’s the deal!  We’re gonna banish you back to your home plane, and then you’re not coming back, all right?”

“If you come back, we will be forced to slay you,” Sir Maxwell intones severely.  

“You may have heard of us,” Drelvin says sharply.  “We’re the folks who killed Imix.  So keep that in mind if you get any funny ideas.” 

*”I agree,”* Ogremoch rumbles in an unhappy voice.

“Maybe we should make him serve us for a year and a day,” Sybele suggests.

“No!” Sir Maxwell exclaims.  “He is an abomination.  Evil outsiders need to _go home._  We don’t want him here.”

“Okay,” she shrugs.

***

Our heroes are forced to wait for hours until Horbin regains his spells.  Ogremoch makes no trouble; he has been cowed by his near-death at the hands of the same adventurers who destroyed Imix.  Inwardly he trembles.  If word of this defeat gets out- 

But of course, he can change it from a _defeat_ to an _escape_ in the telling.

Though he is the slowest of the Elemental Princes, even Ogremoch knows that he cannot appear weak and survive as the Prince of Evil. 

The _banishment_ goes perfectly, and then our heroes return to Var.  

A long session in the Three Rubies leads our heroes to a night of drunken excess.  Once again, they have triumphed over power of almost cosmic proportion.  Imix, Ogremoch, Felenga, Fuligin, Acererak, E-Krektor- for some of them it is a long list indeed.

Over the next few days our heroes realize that they presently have no pressing matters.

***

Orbius cannot bring himself to believe that things are finished quite so cleanly.  So he determines to check, via _commune._

_Are the Bile Lords actively plotting versus us?_ *Uncertain.*
_Am I _communing_ with Boccob?_ *Yes.*
_Oh Boccob, I open my mind to you.  Take all I have learned and all that I know within yourself._
_Is Felenga forever destroyed?_ *Yes.*
_Is Acererak forever destroyed?_ *Yes.*
_Are there more than two Bile Lords remaining?_ *Possibly.*
_Has the Bile Lord found a Bile Queen?_ *No.*
_Will Marius allow us to negotiate for time in his Citadel?_ *No.*
_If we went to the Temple of Elemental Evil and tried to excavate for loot, would it work?_ *Eventually.*
_Would it take more than seven days?_ *Yes.*
_2 weeks?_ *Yes.*
_2 months?_ *Yes.*
_Was Fedifensor in the Earth Temple?_* *No.*
_Air?_ *No.*
_Water?_ *No.*
_Fire?_ *No.*
_The lowest level, the Greater Temple?_ *Yes.*
_Is it locked within a box?_ *No.*
_Is it stuck within the earth?_ *No.*
_Will I ever get Jezebel to marry me?_ *Yes.*

Orbius is content.

***

Prayzose is deep in prayer in an ancient temple to the Light.  He is at the center of things, on Forinthia, yet he cannot reveal himself.  So he has gone to a ruined city, broken centuries ago by the Tarrasques, and reconsecrated an old hall of worship.  His Eagles stand guard at a discrete distance.  They are always with him.

_I must return,_ thinks Prayzose.  _The Empire will collapse otherwise.  I may have already waited too long._  He sighs.  _Even if it costs me my queen._

Slowly, he turns the devil’s offer over in his mind.  

_If he can free her, I can reveal myself.  I can take my place at the head of the forces of Law.  But will I be compromising myself by dealing with him? 

And yet, I’m not dealing with him.  I refused his offer, but I suspect he’s still going to try to free her.  To what extent am I being compromised by this?_  He frowns, then heaves a great sigh.  He must do what he must do.   He must start making preparations, now, before hearing word from the devil again.  Regardless of the cost, he must return.

Has he not told himself that before?  Love is a powerful actor in changing his course.

Prayzose opens a _gate_ directly to the interior of his tent, where he collapses into a chair.  He rubs at his chin, pondering how best to begin readying his force to travel to Forinthia.

Something moves in his bed.  

Prayzose gasps as the Tiger Empress calls softly, “My lord, I have returned.”

***

Over the next few months, the party takes care of various bits of personal business.  They visit Fandral, the foul-tempered dwarven mage-smith who has made them several items in the past.  He scorns them at first, but eventually is swayed by their honeyed tongues.  He agrees to allow his apprentice to work on a sword for Lester.  He also agrees to begin work on a suit of light armor for Sybele after he’s done with the urgrosh he’s presently forging.  “Come back in a year,” he snaps.

Angelfire supervises the building of her temple on Tirchond and her center and store in Var.  She spends some money trying to assist Tirchond’s defenses and to increase the amount of food available; though not quite a famine yet, the island is increasingly on short rations.

Sybele stays at the old house bought years ago by her then-companions, the Swords of Assistance.  Staying there brings back memories- the forest fire started by the halflings, the Hatching Cave, Firestorm Peak- many an adventure has passed since then, but her old companions are still dear to her, when she sees them.  Those that survived, that is.  Thinking of Liana’s terrible death, she still shudders.

Thrush proposes.

Sybele is hesitant.  “I can’t marry you- I’ve never even met your family!  And you’ve never met mine!  Besides, we still need to defeat the Bile Lords.”

“That’s true,” Thrush nods.  “Well, let’s do it!  We’ll finish the Bile Lords this fall, and then we’ll plan a trip to Forinthia in the spring.”

“Okay,” Sybele agrees. 

Orbius tries valiantly to restore his _simulacrum_ to animation, but it is not to be.  So he makes a new one.

***

After some months spent dredging the mud and rock filling the Temple of Elemental Evil, Lester takes a break to return to Fandral’s apprentice.  His new sword is finally ready.  He is very pleased with it.  It is crafted of adamantine and flames on command.  Moreover, it can emit a _gust of wind_ and an _ice storm_ once per day each- thereby representing all the elements.  “Well done!” Lester commends the dwarf with a grin.

***

And so the days slip by, our heroes eating and drinking and loving, enjoying this rare period between action for them. 

Horbin, meanwhile, turns his attention to a matter that he’s let slip by for far too long: Till. 

Till was Horbin’s shield boy, afflicted with hero worship if anyone ever was.  He picked him up years ago on Dorla**, and poor Till was kidnapped by Marius a while back.  

_Marius,_ Horbin curses silently. 

Well, it’s time to take care of business.  Marius isn’t answering _sendings,_ but someone else has come to lend a hand.

_*Next Time:*_ Rescuing Till!


*Fedifensor was indicated as the best loot in the ToEE by a previous divination.

**See The Jester's Old Story Hour.


----------



## the Jester

(I'm cross-posting this to all my current and recent story hour threads.) 

Well, gang, Lester's player is having a baby so he's not gonna be able to game with us nearly as often as he previously has. 

Since neither of us are made happy by this, we've been discussing playing a game by email, but it occurs to me that there's a great place to play a game via the messageboards, so I've proposed this to him. I like the idea- even if he's not big on it, I think that before too long I'm going to start a Cydra play by post for people who can't come over to my house to play.

Any of my readers interested in getting involved with this? Especially if you can post once per day or more. I'll probably be posting a recruiting thread soon, but I'll give you guys first chance to jump on the Cydra wagon.


----------



## the Jester

*The Rescue of Till*

Horbin the MFKG Holy.  If ever there was a Galadorian cleric just ripe for a fall, it’s him.  He teeters on the edge of heresy, he sways over the edge of trying to reject Galador while maintaining his association with Dexter, he leans over the gap of a fall from grace and catches his balance in a most precarious position.  

He even wants to divorce Galador from Forinthia!

Horbin is one of the most powerful clerics on Cydra- perhaps _the_ most powerful.  His renown has spread far and wide, and he is declared wise and holy from Dorhaus to Bordis and beyond.  Even in far-flung Azar word of Horbin’s teachings has reached.  He feels his responsibilities heavily, and tries to set a good example for his fellows, who are as powerful in their areas as he is in his.

And his hands are tied.

A pale finger taps, annoyed, at a table of black marble.  A blood-red liquid decants into a glass.

The War. 

Horbin has been divinely chastised before, for striking against the Forinthian forces during the beginnings of the Battle of Pesh.  He will not make that mistake again, she thinks, not until he is ready to go into full rebellion against the Light.  And that is unlikely to occur any time soon.  He has a gift of seeing to the heart of matters, and that makes him most resistant to corruption.

But then, some forms of corruption can masquerade as goodness.

Seclaidra smiles to herself.  She knows just how to track down that altar boy.  And though she isn’t about to face Marius personally, Horbin is probably willing to take that risk.  And with his friends, that will no doubt lead to a route for Marius.  

Even if he isn’t guarding the boy himself, he’ll know about it soon enough after Horbin makes his assault.  And that will lead to repercussions against Horbin, and probably his friends as well.  And _that_ will lead them to strike back, which will lead them to the War and to the positions that she wants to maneuver them into. 

Seclaidra sits back in her luxurious chair covered with chinchilla furs.  She stretches languidly and casts a _sending_ to a certain _simulacrum_ she’s been cultivating.  In moments, Marius the Enigmatic has arrived.*  They embrace warmly; she is wearing a pleasing and nearly human form.  He, of course, looks dashing and handsome and powerful.  He wears his hair short, unlike many of the Marii.  

”Darling,” he says, hoping- as always- he can feel _real_ emotion.  He’s just a spell, but he wants to believe that he’s real, that he could somehow survive a well-placed _dispel magic._

Ha!

As always, she leads him around by that hope.  When she’s done she rewards him, then sends him away; and then she takes herself directly to Horbin, slipping through the planes as easily as the cleric himself might, and offers to escort him to a portal that leads to where Till is.

Horbin studies the voluptuous being before him.  His perceptions see through to her true nature; she is a force of evil.  And he has seen her before; he remembers her face.**

“Why are you helping me?” he demands. 

She smiles.  Sometimes, the truth serves better than any other tool.

“You are a great force for Chaos, Horbin,” Seclaidra says gently.  “Yet as long as Marius has Till, your hands are tied.  I wish to free them.  Not to persuade you to any goal or task- simply to untie your hands.”

Horbin hesitates for a long moment, fearing a trap; then, decisively, he says, “All right.”  

“Do not lose this.”  She hands him a delicate flower.  “It is the key to open the portal on the way back.  Without it you must provide your own escape.”

“Whatever,” Horbin answers shortly.  At last he’s going to be able to rescue the boy!  He remembers the time Till was the only one fighting against a lich... and Till was just a boy, with no skills, experience or ability!   Yet he stuck to the fight, stood his ground and picked up Horbin’s holy mace.  

Well, it’s time at last to rescue him.

***

The portal deposits Horbin in one end of a narrow passage through jagged rock.  He can feel a razor wind running through the air, but where it’s headed he can’t begin to guess.  

The door at the end of the hall opens before him, and a terrible kelubar demodand springs to its feet from a chair behind a desk.  It chuckles in a voice like an earthquake, then vanishes, going _invisible._  Horbin counters with a _true seeing._

There he is, moving in, right in front of the cleric!  He steps back and unleashes a quickened _flame strike,_ but the kelubar springs away, evading the blast with a mocking laugh.  Then it makes an obscure gesture that Horbin recognizes as a summoning sigil, but nothing happens.  Perhaps the buddies he was calling on are at a good party with some hot demon girls and are too busy to come to his aid.  The demodand squawks in dismay. 

Horbin has had enough.  He tosses a quickened _lower resistance_ at it and then intones, “You have been judged and found wanting!”  A _destruction_ reduces the kelubar to so much ash, quickly spread by the wind. 

Grimly, Horbin finishes punishing Till’s jailor with a _soul binding._  Then he turns to the row of dingy doors set in the opposite wall.  Each bears a tiny barred window.  Heart pounding in anticipation and fear, Horbin begins examining each in turn.  Almost immediately he finds one with a small form visible, huddled in the far corner of a tiny filthy cell.

“Till?” he calls, and his only answer is a small moan.

Destroying the door is child’s play, and then Horbin takes the insensate boy in his arms.  Till is in no shape to walk, even with a massive dose of healing magic.  He needs food, clean water, time to rest and recover.  His mind is nearly broken; he thinks this is some cruel illusion perpetrated by Marius.

_Marius,_ Horbin think angrily.  _You’re going to pay for what you’ve done._

***

“Did I tell you?” Angelfire says.  “Someone tried to poison me the other day!”

“Really?  Who?” asks Lester.  

“I don’t know, I was in a bar and someone put poison in my drink.”  She shrugs.  “Hah!  It was no threat to me.  I’m far too powerful for whatever that stuff was.  Heck, I even finished my drink.”

“Do you think they’ll try again?”

She shrugs again.  “Well, I better not catch them.”

“Hey, did I show you my new Sword of the Elements?” Lester asks, drawing it out excitedly.

***

The adventures of the spring have given way to more routine activities in the autumn.  The year 368 of Our Lord Galador is drawing towards its conclusion.  In the evening of the year, things are winding down; things are looking fine.  Engines of war keep turning, but conventional forces move little, if at all, during the winter.  Soon the weather will turn, and campaigning will become nigh impossible.

In some places, especially those that already have battles taking place in them, war continues to blaze hot.  In most, it remains a sullen bed of coals, waiting for the new fuel of spring to leap back into play.

“I’m bored,” says Lester.  

Fortunately for him, Angelfire, Sybele and Thrush had chosen to visit Var that week (the three of them currently residing in a house owned by the Swords of Assistance, Sybele and Angel’s old buddies, in the Shining City of Tirchond).

“We need to finish off the Bile Lords,” Sybele suggests.

“That’s true,” Thrush opines.

“Let’s look into it,” Orbius says, and soon he’s begun a flurry of divinations.


*Next Time:* Our heroes begin a Return to Bile Mountain, and meet a prismatic marauder!!  


*You may have seen him before here.
**Her you may have seen here.


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

I'd definately be interested playing in a PBP Cydra game for sure on these boards, Pick me! Pick me!


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## the Jester

Sollir:

All right, I'm a softy- go to my thread in talking the talk, but you're the LAST ONE I'm lettin' in at this point...


----------



## the Jester

*Return to Bile Mountain*

The Delphinate was founded as a small village about seven hundred fifty years ago.  At the time it was a simple community of magi fleeing persecution.  The times were against practitioners of the arcane arts; many were tortured and killed for witchcraft.  Such things would continue for centuries, but never again on the same scale as during that black period seven and a half centuries past.  

A few wizards and a psion, together escaping a strong pursuing force from the Kingdom of Thule, settled on the island of Sevlon.  Sevlon was sparsely populated and mostly unexploited.  By making alliances with the fae of the isle, the magi who founded the Delphinate managed not only to survive but to thrive.  They repelled, absorbed or deceived those who sailed to their isle; and in a few generations their small village had become first a bustling city, and then an entire nation, spreading over most of Sevlon.

After two hundred years, the magi of Sevlon reached a golden age.  Nearly sealing their borders, they had cut off most contact with the outside.  Wizards and sorcerers would _teleport_ out, but without the right ‘key’ one can’t _teleport_ in.  This, combined with magical barriers, discouraged most visitors for centuries, during which Delphinate life flourished and grew strong.  The streets were lit with _light glass_ spells; _magic axles_ drove eternal machines, freeing man from the trap of much otherwise-necessary labor; an age of justice facilitated by divinations came to pass.  Using sorcerous abilities the Delphinate extended the allotted lifespan of its citizenry.  Had it so chosen, it might have challenged Forinthia when it was weak and scattered from the terrible threat of the Tarrasques.

But the Delphins were always wise enough to steer the Delphinate clear of political or military entanglements, and long life helped policies spanning generations succeed.

Off the coast of the Delphinate, now, two fleets clash.

One flies the golden flag of the Forinthian Imperial Navy, sails billowing as the wind whisks them across the waters.  From the flanks of the ships great bursts of smoke and noise forewarns their adversaries that huge balls of lead are coming at them.

The adversaries- a smaller group of only eight ships, but sized for and crewed by storm giants- skims to and fro, seeking to dodge the oncoming fleet.  They are heading towards the shores of Sevlon, but will surely founder on the stones around the isle first.  The high winds are driving a considerable chop on the waves.  

On the deck of the lead Forinthian ship, a quartet of tall, proud clerics stands poised.  They watch the fleeing giants grimly, estimating the range.  “I’m glad they’re out of boulders,” one of the clerics comments nervously.  

“I hope they don’t have any more of those javelins, either,” another responds, then they lapse into quiet, glancing periodically at the ominously gathering storm clouds.

When the giants come within range, a quartet of _flame strikes_ slams down from the heavens above, igniting the sails and decks of half of the giant vessels.  A great cheer rises from the Forinthian fleet as the damaged giant ships begin losing speed.  More orcish shot blasts into the giants’ ships, and this time one of the balls connects directly with an injured storm giant.  She bellows in pain as it blows out her right thigh, collapsing onto the deck of her burning ship.

One of her companions lifts into the sky and hovers, glaring at the Forinthian fleet.  Then he casts a spell and vanishes.

“He’s still there,” one of the clerics shouts.  “He’s just invisible!”  And he casts a _dispel magic_ into the air, but to no avail.

“He’s fleeing to Sevlon!”

The crew murmurs dreadfully.  They don’t want to go there.  And the worried, muttered conversations start: Does he have friends in the Delphinate?

“Not to worry, boys,” shouts the Captain, drawing his cutlass.  “There’s plenty more giants to kill!”

***

Till is resting, fully healed in body and soothed in mind, but traumatized.  At least he believes that he’s free, now; or at least half-believes it.

Horbin groans inwardly at the length of time it took to find the lad.  He flashes back to that period on Dorla when they met originally; how Till had looked up to him!

_Clambake,_ he thinks suddenly.  _Whatever happened to him?_

***

Mabrack the storm giant flies within the confines of the Delphinate’s _dimensional bubble_ and then _teleports_ to the capitol, Spell.  He’s been here before.  Some of these people _are_ his friends.

Appearing on the porch of a certain very powerful associate’s house, the giant leans down and knocks, hard, on the door.  It cracks, and he feels a twinge of remorse.  “Zeldon, it’s Mabrack!  I need your help, immediately!”  And he casts a quick, desperate _sending_ to another powerful friend.

The door opens only moments later.  “What is it?” asks a tired voice.  A gnome of uncertain grooming stands there, his nose artfully broken many times in the past.  Bloodshot eyes stare out at the giant.

“I was sailing with some of my folk and we were attacked by Forinthians,” Mabrack explains rapidly.  “They’re killing my people, right now!”

“You know we Delphinites don’t get involved with politics,” Zeldon grunts disgustedly.  “Go to someone whose hands _aren’t_ tied.”

“Zeldon, they’re in your waters.  Right near your shores.”

Zeldon stiffens.  “What!”  Just then, Mabrack’s other friend arrives.  There is a cold look in his eyes.  

“That changes everything,” says Zeldon grimly.  “That means that it is a matter for the entire Delphinate.”

“I can’t believe,” says Mabrack’s other friend, “that they would be so stupid.”  His smile is feral.

***

Orbius says, “The way to draw the Bile Lords out seems to have something to do with a garrison.  I think we need to find it and destroy it, or it might actually be some kind of item or something.”  He sounds slightly puzzled.  “But at the moment it’s nonexistent.  I think that might mean that it’s on another plane, or something- or maybe that it only exists at certain times or something.”  He shakes his head.

”I’m bored,” the L complains.  “Let’s go.”

***

The next morning- the morning of 7/29/368 O.L.G.- our heroes began their Return to Bile Mountain.  Orbius _mass teleports_ the group about a half mile from Mount Angelfire, as it is now called (named after one of our heroes, in fact).  Immediately, several of them spot some sort of glinting light near the mountain’s feet.  The determine to investigate and head towards it, most of them flying or moving at incredible speed through various magical and psionic means.  

As they come closer, they find themselves nearly dazzled by the brilliant light reflecting out from the serpent at the central.  It is made of diamond-like crystal, the size of a purple worm, horned like a peryton.  Where the sunlight strikes it, scintillating rainbows of cover give forth.  The light is nearly bright enough to blind our heroes.  

The group keeps moving up, but as they get too close- and by that we must save a hundred feet or thereabouts- the dazzling rays of color suddenly turn dangerous!  Thrush cries out in dismay as he suffers a blast of flame, Sybele is blasted with a violet ray that she manages to resist, Lester shrugs off a green one.

“This thing is dangerous!” cries Lester.  It starts rolling forward, hauling its gargantuan bulk along with it.  

Our heroes go into action.  Orbius blasts at it with a _puncture_ spell, and then Thrush, seventy feet away, swings wildly at it.  Thanks to the _mass far strike_ spell that Orbius cast, he inflicts telling wounds upon it.  Sybele and Londo don’t do quite so well, each of them landing a single blow worth counting.  

Lester, puzzle, mulls over his great knowledge of the elements- and realizes what the creature is.  “It’s a prismatic marauder!” he cries.  “Very dangerous!  It gives off prismatic... uh... rays!”  

“We know!” cries Sybele.

“Oh yeah,” Lester mutters, and he casts a quickened _fireball_, which flares harmlessly against the creature, and then a powerful _volcanic eruption,_ which begins directly under the creature.  A spray of magma and hot lava ripples upwards, splattering all over the marauder!

The great crystal serpent lunges forward, trying to bite the hapless Angelfire, but fortunately her armor protects her from its ravages.  She whips her blade into it with a _spang!_  Our heroes pour it on, but the prismatic marauder is tough.  It shrugs off their combined assault and rolls over Angel and Londo, crushing them for severe damage.  

The beams flinging from it mostly glance off our heroes, but Jezebel succumbs to one, going completely mad, while Smacky (her pseudodragon familiar) becomes blinded and panicks!  Things get chaotic- the monster sustains an incredible amount of punishment- but finally Thrush lands the killing blow.  The marauder explodes in a blast of sharp crystal fragments, cutting everyone around it.  Fortunately for them all, Horbin’s there; he can heal them, restore sanity to Jezebel and un-blind Smacky.  And, naturally enough, he proceeds to do so.  A few moments later the group looks up at the mountain.  The river that flows into it emerges from the other side as water, now; before they came and destroyed the Crux Crystal, it came out as frothy yellow bile, stinking like vomit.  One of the most disgusting places our heroes have ever been, without a doubt.

“Let’s go,” Angelfire says cheerfully.


_*Next Time:*_ Into Angelfire Mountain!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

I'm not sure if you've replied to my request to be in your Pbp in the thread I posted it in, because I've lost track of it...but I'd like to be in your Pbp! 

I'm looking forward to seeing what happens when the Bile King meets our heroes...more incredible amounts of damage, I'm sure.

I was also wondering about Thrush's stats. I'm playing a melee tank in another game, and it's interesting to see how they compare.


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## the Jester

Tallarn- jump in, I've reserved a space for you.  There are threads in both Rogues' Gallery and Talking the Talk about the game- head over and jump in! 

As to Thrush, at present he's a 23rd level fighter... I'll try to post his current stats in the RG thread...


----------



## the Jester

*Thrush*

Oh heck, let's just do this one here.

*THRUSH*
Male Large-Sized Human Fighter 23

*Hit Dice:* 23d10+69 (204 hp)
*Initiative:* +5 (automatically 25 the first round he acts)
*Speed:* 20’
*AC:* 27 (-1 size, +1 dex, +13 armor, +4 deflection) plus 50% miss chance if cloak is active, touch 14, flat-footed 26
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +22/+33
*Attack:* +5 greatsword +36 melee plus Weapon Mastery (3d6+23/17-20 plus Lethality plus Weapon Mastery); or +1 mighty (+4) composite longbow +23 ranged (1d10+5/x3)
*Full Attack:* +5 greatsword +36/31/26/21 melee plus Weapon Mastery (3d6+23/17-20 plus Lethality plus Weapon Mastery); or +1 mighty (+4) composite longbow +23/18/13/8 ranged (1d10+5/x3)
*Space/Reach:* 5’/5’
*Special Qualities:* Contingency (“Lester save me!” triggers fly spell), displacement, permanent enlarge, resistance to fire 30 (from ring) 
*Saves:* Fort +21, Ref +15, Will +17
*Abilities:* Str 27 (including belt of giant strength +6), Dex 13, Con 16, Int 12, Wis 11, Cha 10
*Skills:* Climb +5, Intimidate +17, Jump +28, Listen +7, Spot +8
*Feats:* Alertness, Cleave, Combat Reflexes, Epic Weapon Focus (greatsword), Epic Weapon Specialization (greatsword), Great Cleave, Guard Your Flanks, Improved Critical (greatsword), Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Lethality (greatsword), Lightning Reflexes, Point Blank Shot, Power Attack, Quickdraw, Quick-Strike, Weapon Focus (greatsword), Weapon Mastery (greatsword)
*Epic Feats:* Epic Weapon Focus (greatsword)
*Challenge Rating:* 23
*Alignment:* Neutral

*Gear:* Greatsword +5, nephilium ghost touch full plate +5, ring of fire resistance 30, quarterstaff +2/mw, mighty (+4) composite longbow +1, ring of protection +4, belt of giant strength +6, helm of willpower [gives +3 morale bonus to Will saves], major cloak of displacement, amulet of resistance +5, 50 mw arrows, statue (worth 1500 gp; focus for contingency), diamond (worth 5000 gp; focus for protection from spells), elixirs of harm (3), golembane scarab, winged boots, dagger, longsword, ring of protection +2 (for sale), large-sized suits of full plate +4 and full plate+2 (spares, kept in the house of the Swords of Assistance on Tirchond), bracers from Amnor the Bile Lord

*Coin:* 
591 gp
4779 sp
1491 pp
12 cp
600 ep


----------



## the Jester

*Return to Bile Mountain II: Back In*

Bile Mountain.  Mount Angelfire.  By whatever name, it is a place that has known great evil.  Our heroes came once before and purged the curse of bile that exuded from it, destroyed the great Crux Crystal that seemingly powered it; but they did not finish what they started.  They left the horrific Bile Lords alive. 

Now they have come back to finish what they started.

Two of the Bile Lords have come for them, separately, and our heroes have thrown down both of them.  Though many other things have required the attention of our stalwarts- including the Temple of Elemental Evil, the City That Waits, Acererak’s Fortress of Conclusion- now at last they can turn their attentions here.

The very stone of the mountain seems corrupted, eaten with small wormholes by exposure to the corrosive bile that ran so freely for so long.  Our heroes enter the mountain through a wide passage that accommodates the flowing Angelfire River and yet still has room for a large band to walk on either bank.  The river is no longer called the River of Bile; once it entered Bile Mountain as water and exited as bile.  Now it leaves clean, unpolluted, pure (at least compared to its prior state)

It has been exactly one year and one month since last our heroes set foot within the mountain.

The passage follows the river; wet stone on either side, etched by eons of bile, would offer a certain tentative purchase to our heroes’ boots, were they not all flying.  Soon the passage opens up into a great central cavern, one wall of which is carved with stairs. 

“There we go,” nods Angel.  The adventurers ascend, returning to Bile Mountain.

“This place would be perfect for a casino,” Sybele muses in a hushed voice.  Horbin gives her a bemused look.  “No, think about it,” she continues.  “We could clean it up a little, make it a little nicer, you know, cleaner... maybe get rid of the smell somehow... it would be perfect!  It’s already secure against divinations and teleportations, so a lot of the standard security issues are already taken care of... _and_ it’s on Pesh!  Where are we going to find a better place?”

Orbius shakes his head in amused disbelief, but Thrush nods as if it’s all perfectly logical.

“What about security?” Horbin asks.

“Oh, we can take care of that,” Thrush answers dismissively.  “After all, I’m the foremost swordsman of my age!”

Angelfire quirks a half-smile at that.

The fighter continues, “If anyone tries anything, we can- hey, what are those?” 

The group has been exploring as they talk, mostly going through rooms they had cleared out before on their first trip through the mountain, but this is in a high-ceilinged room they don’t recall seeing before.  ‘Those’ are a series of large stone statues, depicting weird humanoids with elephantine features.  Their trunks bifurcate about halfway down their length; the creatures have long tusks and are depicted as being covered in shaggy hair.

“They look almost like these creatures called _loxo,_” Orbius comments, “except that loxo are mostly hairless.  Also,” he frowns, studying the statuary carefully, “their tusks are a little bigger in these statues... hmm... no, these are definitely not conventional loxo.”

“Well,” suggests Sybele, “let’s search them.  Maybe there’s a secret compartment in one of them or something...”

But of course, as soon as they touch the first statue to examine it, things go entirely awry.  In a burst of stale, sweaty-smelling air, a great figure mounted on a huge shaggy elephant with enormous tusks appears.  He trumpets from his worn trunk as he appears, looking around wildly, and in an instant he’s aimed several telling blows at Sybele with his huge, primitive lance!  Then the great elephantine thing he’s mounted on simply tramples all over her, and she gives out a shout of anger and pain.

“Get off my woman!” roars Thrush, and hews at the mastadon with the incredible skill and strength that led him, mere moments ago, to declare himself the foremost swordsman of his age.  In an instant he’s killed the mount, and the rider (Barmy by name, though our heroes are not aware of it) is catapulted from his great saddle to land awkwardly next to the warrior.*  Londo, seeing an opportunity, springs in to attack, but Barmy’s reflexes are amazingly fast for his bulk; and as he deals a telling blow to Londo, he knocks him back with his lance and muscles him out of the way!**  Londo staggers and adopts a defensive posture, blinking the blood from his face.  

Angelfire frowns.  That’s her man the elephant-creature just hit, and- just as Thrush defended his woman- she steps up to defend her man.  Barmy and she begin exchanging a series of punishing blows, but Angel is protected by Orbius’ _mass mirror image_ spell.  

Sybele, meanwhile, drags herself out from under the dead weight of Barmy’s mount.  Gritting her teeth, she wonders momentarily who these elephant folk were- and what their relationship to the Bile Lords was.  Suddenly, in a flash of epiphany, she realizes that this thing might be a potential ally.

So Sybele reaches out through her psicrystal, which can speak into the minds of others, and cries, _Surrender and we can go kill the Bile Lords together!_

She feels a moment of hesitation, a strong wariness- and then agreement.  Barmy is bleeding from a dozen heavy wounds and his strength is starting to flag.  He will not long survive this battle.  _I yield,_ he thinks back via the psicrystal.

Unfortunately, Thrush is not privy to this, and an instant later the large man cuts the party’s new would-be ally down, splitting him open from his sternum to his crotch.

“Oh well,” Sybele says to nobody in particular, and heaves a sigh.  

*Thrush dealt enough damage to kill it in one full attack.  At full, the mount had 172 hit points.

**Barmy had the Large and In Charge feat.



_*Next Time:*_ Back to the village of Angelfire!  Back into Bile Mountain!  And a terrible thing happens to Thrush!


----------



## the Jester

*Thrush's Tactical Flaw*

“I like this place,” Angelfire comments with a smile.

They have returned to the village that bears her name, much as the mountain itself does.  

“I think I might spend some time here,” Angel goes on laconically.  She smiles at Londo.  “It might be a good place to start a church.”  She thinks briefly of Sheva and Reth Fire-Scarred, two powerful priestesses of Coila who have spent time on Pesh.  An omen, perhaps?  With Reth long-since murdered by Marius- the irony, that he is another follower of Coila!- and Sheva having returned to Tirchond, perhaps she should spend some time here herself.  After all, she muses, she is a reasonably powerful cleric herself now...

We will leave her lost in thought for the moment.

***

On a plain composed of fused and crystallized flame a great tent composed of sheets of fire has been set up.  A long banner licks out from the top of it, a white-hot flame surrounding a brass bowl.  Around the great tent are a series of lesser structures, neither as large nor as hot and bright as the great one.  Not far off is a garden of fireflowers, ever-changing and turning colors by the second.  Illusions of pleasing sights and sounds, of amusements and acrobats, entertain the throng of celebrants.  

Along the edge of the fireflowers is a great celebration.  Over two thousand elementals, as well as hundred of efreeti, several salamander ambassadors and a dozen or so assorted others, attended by thousands of fire mephits and fire creatures, are here to celebrate Pasha Amhari Ifroobil’s puissance.

“I knew that they could never take the City of Brass!” boasts one of the Pasha’s staunchest generals, seated at a long table made of obsidian imported from the Magma Pimple, right on the border of the paraelemental plane of magma.  There are incredible delicacies upon the table, although a creature of the Material Plane might not find any of it digestible.  “With the powers of Pasha Ifroobil on our side, they can _never_ stand before us!  And now, surely all the others will realize the extent of their foolishness and bow down before the new Prince of All Evil Fire!!”  And all heads bow to the Pasha.

“I do not hold that title yet,” Amhari cautions.  “Until all the others who would take Imix’ throne acknowledge me as Archomental, I will not use the title.”

“Of course,” says another, one of the salamander ambassadors, “not all of them are so restrained.  Why, I’ve heard it said that Kembrin demands that his courtiers address him as befits the Prince while they are in the Crimson Garden.”

“What’s this?” Amhari demands.

The salamander- Amhari recognizes him as Dzeldole, a representative of a distasteful faction with fiendish blood- shrugs.  “So it is said, though I cannot attest to it.”

The table has fallen silent as the partygoers await Amhari’s reaction.  He is known to be seeking to establish a more evil reputation, as would befit his new role.  

For a moment he says nothing, but his face darkens.  His eyes blaze with orange fire.  It is obvious that the joy he had been experiencing a mere moment ago has been tragically lost.

“Bah!” interrupts the faithful general.  “Kembrin will be brought to heel just like the rest of them!”

“Of course,” Dzeldole responds.

“A suitable demonstration of his might is all it would take,” the general continues.  

“Indeed,” Dzeldole replies.  “Something to show that Pasha Ifroobil overshadows Imix himself.”

“Yes, exactly!” the general says excitedly.  “For he does!  All hail Pasha Amhari Ifroobil, Protector of the City of Brass, Vizier to the Fire Sultan, Guardian of the Sea of White Flames, Overlord of the Fire Mephits, etc, etc!”  And indeed, all present hail Amhari.

But it is not enough.

With a roar of anger the great efreet Pasha draws Eruption and splits the table in two.

“What must I do to prove myself to these ingrates?!” he rages.  “What will prove to them that I can do more than Imix ever could?”

“You must defeat what he could not,” says the fiendish salamander.

***

Back to Bile Mountain- sorry, Mt. Angelfire.  Our heroes continue exploring, trying to clean out what they only tore through before.  Most of the chambers on the lowest level are empty; but one holds a pack of four huge bile-infected beetles.  The party suffers a rain of bile before they can launch a single attack.*   Then the beat down begins, with Londo rapidly slaying the closest beetle; then he and Thrush quickly move into the room.

It’s somewhat hard to see the beetles; they seem slightly indistinct, fading into the shadows; but that doesn’t dissuade our heroes.  And nobody’s particularly concerned about the clacking mandibles of the beetles- until disaster strikes.  

Thrush plans pretty much on just sucking up whatever damage the beetle manages to dish out.  He’s just upgraded his armor; he’s hoping they won’t be able to break through it.

But these are _slicer_ beetles.

“AAAARGHHH!!!” Thrush screams, as one of the beetles snips through his left arm just above the elbow.  For an instant it hangs bizarrely from the hilt of his greatsword, but then the arm’s weight drags it down and it flops to the ground.  

Staggering, Thrush utters a series of faint curses, and then, in an amazed-sounding voice, chokes out, “I DON’T HAVE A ONE-HANDED WEAPON!”

_*Next Time:*_ Oops!



*To be fair, there were two pcs who went before them, but neither of them actually attacked.


----------



## Knightfall

Now THAT is a Disarm attack.


----------



## the Jester

_The afternoon of 9/27/368 O.L.G._

Even with Thrush effectively out of the fight the beetles are no match for our heroes.  Angelfire hacks left and right, assuming huge proportions in order to gain a substantial advantage in reach.  Londo darts in and swings his flail with consummate skill.  Sybele hangs back and fires a continuous stream of arrows.  Jezebel unleashes a series of deadly _scorching rays._

Horbin, before turning to unleash some righteous fury on the bugs, _heals_ Thrush.  Then he, too, leaps in at the vermin.

Afterwards, Thrush comments, “I need to do something about this.  Need to get some backup weapons.”

“And your arm, of course,” adds Horbin.  “Which I can fix this evening.”*

The group pretty much agrees, as time is not pressing, to return to the village of Angelfire and recover before resuming their quest.  They descend the mountain and return to the small community, who regard them as great heroes (as indeed they are).  Food, drink and lodging are free for our heroes here, but even so they tend to leave some coin behind them when they leave- especially Angelfire. 

She _loves_ that the place is named after her!

Horbin _regenerates_ Thrush’s arm, and he sets out to get a few one-handed weapons.  “I couldn’t even use my bow,” he grumbles.

***

_8 pm, 9/27/368 O.L.G._

“What are we gonna do next?” asks Drelvin.

“What do you mean?  We’re going to finish the Bile Lords, right?” asks Sybele.  Thrush nods nervously.

“Meh,” says Drelvin.  “There are a lot of other things we could be doing.  Who are these Bile Lords anyway?  I only know them from you guys.  There’s a ruined city in my lands that I’d like to clean up.**  Also, I’d really like to find out more about that girl in the mists in the Tomb of Horrors.***  I feel bad about making the wrong choice.  If we can help her-“

“The Tomb of Horrors!” exclaims Sybele.  “Hell no!”

Drelvin shrugs.  “I don’t blame you, after what happened to you in the Fortress of Conclusion.****  But that city...”

“We can do that next,” says Sybele.  “I think the Bile Lords are a clear and present danger to us... they’ve tried to attack us before, and we’ve defeated two of them.  Now’s the time to strike again.”

Drelvin shrugs again.

***

_1 pm, 9/28/368 O.L.G._

Back in Bile Mountain- sorry, Mt. Angelfire- our heroes continue their explorations.  They pass by the remains of the great juggernaut that caught several of their number against the _wall of force_ so long ago- it makes Sybele reminisce about Alcar, the Angel of Food- and continue along, moving up the mountain.  

“This place is nasty,” Drelvin comments.

“It was much worse before,” Sybele says.  “Lots more bile, lots more monsters... there was a level of beholders, there were mind flayers on another level...”  She shudders.  “It was _nasty._”*****

“Tell me about it,” Thrush says in a low voice.  “I was trapped in here for _years._  A decade, almost.  If it wasn’t for you, honey, I’d never have escaped!”  He smiles lovingly at Sybele.

“Well, you did,” she answers, “and boy am I glad!”  They embrace and have an embarrassingly intimate moment while the others pretend not to notice, then the group continues on their way.

They find themselves in a room whose floor is covered with slick wet mud.  A strange, elephant-shaped altar and a stone dresser seem to be the only features of the place.

“Let’s check it out,” Horbin suggests, heading in. Angel and Thrush follow him; as always, Londo is just a pace behind Angelfire.

As they move in, they suddenly become aware that the mud is moving.

“Look out!” shouts Horbin, and our heroes stumble as the floor shifts beneath them.  In an instant, the mud has drawn itself up into humanoid form.  Thrush and Londo move forward, but as Londo closes with it the ooze creature slaps him away.  The awesome blow sends the blackguard flying, and he crashes into the stone dresser with skull-cracking force.

They engage.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes fight Sluglub!  (What the hell is Sluglug?  He’s a 10th level warrior huge bile ooze paraelemental!)



*Unlike most Galadorians, Horbin receives his spells at 5 pm each day.

**Drelvin is a Baron in service to King Malford and Queen Moira.  His lands are mostly uninhabited, but he has a small group of peasants building his capitol.  The ruins of Ostraghan, a former major city situated on Lake Bellurnus, are near to it and are said to be infested with evil monsters of various sort.

***Drelvin was presented with a confusing choice in the Tomb of Horrors.  There were two bags and a beautiful woman who spoke circuitously at best.  He touched one of the bags and the other bag and the woman both vanished.  (This occurs somewhere in To War Against Felenga.)

****Drelvin refers, of course, to the most horrible trap ever: Desatysso’s Renewing Revenge.  Also in To War Against Felenga.

*****Alcar (the Angel of Food) and the previous adventures of our heroes in Bile Mountain are recounted in the Agents of Chaos story hour thread.


----------



## the Jester

First of all, I'd like to say that I'm a silly fool and I misremembered the ooze warrior's name.  That's what comes from not checking my notes.  His name was Bulglump.  And if I remember right, the sluglub is actually a lil alchemically spawned homebrewed monster of mine.

Second, a small update.

***






_2 pm, 9/28/368 O.L.G.; the Enlightened Sanctuary on the First Heaven_

General Veers is not given to groaning aloud, but reading the report of the incident almost drives him to do so.

_...pursued the giant ships into waters claimed by the Delphinate.  The scoundrel Mabrack vanished from his ship.  From later events we deduct that he went to get aid..._

Veers pulls a face and gulps.  _The Delphinate,_ he thinks sickly.  _Why couldn’t they have offended someone simpler, King Malford or Tirchond or Pesh?  Even the orcs of Valonia??_  He can read between the lines, of course.  Waters “claimed by” the Delphinate, but not recognized as such by Forinthia.  This hotshot captain wanted to make a name for himself at considerable risk, and had lost lives and ships and possibly riled up forces more dangerous than any others involved in the war.  Veers shakes his head in disbelief.

He reads on: _...from what we pieced together of events later, the giant fetched at least two other wizards, who, upon seeing our fleet, issued _sendings_ to others.  Thus we found ourselves confronted with considerable eldritch might..._

Veers shakes his head as he continues down the page.  He is amazed that there were any survivors at all.  

He starts in surprise at one of the ending lines: _At least we slew Mabrack the storm giant._

So.  Not a total waste, but... to inflame the _Delphinate!_ 

The Emperor must know immediately.

***

_2:30 pm, 9/28/368 O.L.G., inside Angelfire Mountain, second level_

Londo rises, his skull ringing from the impact with the dresser.  Blood trickles from his abused face.  

Suddenly a host of arrows are in the air and quivering in the muck of the creature’s chest.  Rex springs forward, slashing with his claws, and Ulla tromps up as a golem.  Thrush slams his greatsword into it again and again, dealing incredible damage. 

Bulglump surely knows that he’s facing worthy opponents.  

He concentrates his oozy might on Angelfire, slamming her again and again, dealing truly immense damage to her.*  She grunts as blow after blow rains down upon her; she tries to fend them off, but not only is Bulglump immensely strong, he’s also excreting some sort of acid from his entire form.  And the _stink!_

Then, with surprising skill, Bulglump delivers a smart crack to Rex’s side as he’s moving in to assail the muck warrior.

Thrush roars angrily.  He bears down, continuing a series of truly monstrous blows, slicing into the mud with unbelievable ferocity.  Finally, Bulglump collapses; he has been defeated.  

After catching their breaths and some small amount of healing, the party searches the room.  The dresser yields something that at first glance seems promising- a small phial, as one might contain perfume in.  But it turns out to be long-spoiled, rancid-smelling perfume; certainly nothing with any value now.  Disappointed, our heroes discard it.

“Well, let’s move on,” suggests Sybele, and they do.


*On the order of 114 hp in one round.


_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes fight an odd battle with a mirror!  Or something like that.


----------



## Cheiromancer

the Jester said:
			
		

> Desatysso’s Renewing Revenge




One of the creepiest encounters I have ever read.  And IIRC all their magic couldn't put an end to it- they had to get help.  Do you have a write-up of it in the Rogue's Gallery?


----------



## the Jester

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> One of the creepiest encounters I have ever read.  And IIRC all their magic couldn't put an end to it- they had to get help.  Do you have a write-up of it in the Rogue's Gallery?




No, alas, I ran this one straight out of the RttToH box... all I did was give it an updated mechanic (i.e. there was no justification for how to make it work in the RttToH box; I declared it an epic spell and fiddled with the numbers a lil to get something like I wanted.  I'll see if I can dig that stuff up and post it, though...


----------



## Cheiromancer

Well there you go.  It was so cool I thought you must have invented it yourself!

I'd love to see the write-up.


----------



## the Jester

*Fight with a Mirror?*

_4 pm, 9/28/368 O.L.G., inside Angelfire Mountain, second level_

“This place is disgusting,” Jezebel says, repelled.  

The room they are in is ruined; it’s hard to tell what it might have once been.  Now all that remains are scraps of burnt wood and cloth.  But there are a few areas of stinking yellowish foam that remain, all that is left of bile puddles.  

“You should’ve seen it before,” Sybele comments in a low voice.

Thrush is very nervous.  Coming back here is a barely-contained nightmare for him.  His first band of adventurers, a good decade ago now, died in here; in the end only he survived, and only by agreeing to serve the Bile Lords.  Serve he did, with no way out, for almost ten years.  And then our heroes came and saved him, and now he has a family.  He won’t abandon Sybele in here, but- he thinks uneasily- if they aren’t careful, they’re going to be destroyed by the Bile Lords.  

Just like Thrush’s first group.

He shudders to himself.  

He’s not the only nervous one.  Even though they cleaned this place out a year ago, only two members of this group were there (even Thrush wasn’t there at the time).  To the others, this place is new.  The group moves into another ruined chamber, this one containing a small stone vanity.  A mirror is on the wall behind it and a stool is set before it.  

“Let’s search around,” says Drelvin, and begins using his elven senses to search for secret doors.  The others begin searching as well; Rex moves to examine first the vanity (empty) and then the mirror.

As the dragon disciple glances at it for the first time, he is startled to see something behind his reflection.  He glances over his shoulder for an instant; nothing.  He looks back at the mirror.  It’s almost as if an elephantine face is overlaid across his reflection.  He can see his own features, as well as its.

“Whoa,” Rex says, backing away.

Suddenly the chamber fills with greenish vapors, and our heroes gag as the _stinking cloud_ fills the area.  But only for an instant- Drelvin quickdraws Shastruth and the sword utilizes a _dispel magic_ to disperse the cloud.

“What the hell was that?” Ulla cries.  Thrush’s sword is in his hands.  

“I- I’m not sure,” a shocked Rex replies.  “I saw a face...”  He watches the mirror intently.

“Well, I’m ready for it,” Jezebel says grimly.  Her _wand of enervation_ is held tightly in her hand.

A _lightning bolt_ blasts from a fingertip that just extends beyond the surface of the mirror.  Angelfire dodges aside, evading the blast. 

“Oh yeah??  Let’s see how you like this!” cries Drelvin, and points his sword at the mirror.  Shastruth casts a _shatter_ and the mirror’s glass explodes into fragments.

“I don’t think,” Jezebel says, “that the mirror was the problem.”

And from the opposite wall, a ghostly figure half-appears and blasts out with another _lightning bolt,_ catching both Sybele (who is still vomiting from the nausea induced by the cloud) and Thrush.  

“Aha!!” cries Drelvin, and Shastruth casts _dispel magic_ at the ghostly form.  

Nothing.  The ghostly figure fades back through the wall. 

The battle becomes a cat-and-mouse matter, with our heroes waiting readily for a chance to attack the ghostly loxo, and the loxo flitting in and out of the walls, emerging just long enough to cast a spell before escaping through a wall, floor or ceiling again.  

But Drelvin has some _ghost touch_ arrows; so as soon as he spots the loxo ghost, he looses one, and each time he hits, he inflicts significant damage.  Grinning fiercely, he shoots it several times.  Londo, too, is fortunate to hit it several times.  Finally, it emerges in the wrong place at the wrong time and Rex uses his force breath to finish it off, shredding it into many pieces of tattered ectoplasm. 

The party gathers together and checks up.  Nobody’s seriously hurt, and Angelfire and Londo cast a few minor healing spells to repair most of the wounds the battle left on the group.  Then they move onward, continuing their second exploration of Mount Angelfire.

***

_A timeless realm in a far dimension_

The King of Bile, escorted by his most powerful creations, has come far beyond the pale of any mortal imagining to track her down, and at last he has found her.

A thousand million possibilities he has explored; forever, it seems, he has quested.  All looking for the perfect cruelty, the hideous beauty that he has at last unearthed.  And now, in this far realm of madness and mind-cracking power, he has at last come before her.  

The trials and tribulations he has faced in tracking her are meaningless.  The sacrifice of so many of his most powerful creations is meaningless.  The only meaning to be found is in her vapid expression, the smeared blood that trails behind her, the entrails twitching around her.  The Queen of Guts.  

The King of Bile looks on as his creations battle hers, as he proves his worth to her by bringing down the pseudonatural things she has surrounded herself with.  And then, when her guardians- and most of his entourage- have been destroyed, he approaches her.  The rank cloud of yellow vapor around him- does it please her?  He cannot read her expressions, not yet, but he will learn and he will treasure every bit of spite and venom within her breast.

They commune together, communicating in a way that no lesser being can for several moments; and he knows she understands his purpose now.  But does she approve?

Suddenly the intestines that trail around her start to move, as if possessed of a life of their own; and the King of Bile watches with interest as she strangles the last of his entourage with contemptuous ease.  He smiles as the innards loop about his neck.

“You are beautiful,” he whispers.

The noose around his throat pulls him gently to the Queen of Guts.

***

_8 pm, 9/28/368 O.L.G., Mechanus, on the cog of Galadronus_

“We’re going to take steps against that bitch Estelias first,” Emperor Prayzose says grimly.  

Maps are spread across the table.  Generals and admirals are clustered about, staring intently at the battle plans before them.

“Can we take Tirchond, with our forces diluted as they are now?” inquires Admiral Coyne.  “They traditionally have a series of strong magical defenses.”

Prayzose nods.  “Without a doubt.  One of the key pieces of their typical defense is missing.  They won’t be able to employ the wild zone generating device that they have typically used against Forinthian forces.”

“How do you know this?” Coyne asks in surprise.

“Because,” Emperor Prayzose replies in a heavy voice, “it has _hatched._”


_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes continue to rise through Bile- er, Mount Angelfire!


----------



## the Jester

Oops- I just realized that the last few updates, I've misdated things.  Roll all them dates back one day, folks!  The last update was on 9/27/368, not 9/28.  My bad, and only truly important to my continuity notes, but I thought I'd mention it since I'll be correcting the mis-dating in the next update...


----------



## the Jester

*Horbin Gets a Scolding*

_9 pm, 9/27/368 O.L.G., the Angelfire Inn, Angelfire, Pesh_

There aren’t too many people in the town of Angelfire (Angelfire herself still can’t get over how cool it is that almost everything in town is named after her), but most of them seem to be in the inn tonight.

Our heroes perform some heavy feats of drinking.  They smoke some fine halfling weed that puts them into a very friendly and hungry state of mind.  Lester gets an obsequious little dwarven fellow named Baldric stoned, who then heartily encourages his friend (who sits in the corner cloaked and trying not to be noticed) to join the fun.  

With the sort of embarrassment that a teenager feels about his parents, Baldric’s friend shoos him away.

Intrigued, the L stumbles over to the man, studies him for a moment, and declares, “Well, from your sword and shield and other gear, I’d say you look like an adventurer, probably a fighter or paladin or something... actually, come to think of it, with that big snake on your shield, probably not a paladin.”  He grins.  “That’s okay, paladins don’t usually get along with Angel too well.  But anyway, I’m the Angel of Adventure-“ he flexes his bat wings- “and we’re going adventuring into Bile Mountain tomorrow!  If you wanna come, meet us down here for breakfast at eight!”  Stoned out of his mind, Lester proceeds to wander back over to his table, tripping over a farmer and spilling two drinks with his wings on the way.* 

The locals don’t seem to mind.

***

_1 am, 9/28/368 O.L.G., in Lester’s room_

The L snores, fully clothed, his front saturated in spilled liquor.  His afro is surprisingly resilient.  The white streak in it- left by Acererak- makes him look unusually dignified.  

Orbius giggles and sways on his feet.  He hasn’t been this drunk in- in- since he was- well—ever.  

Snicker, snicker, Eye of Boccob. 

He casts a spell on the Angel of Adventure.  

“Gotta look the part,” he burps, then trips over his own feet and lands snoring in the corner.

***

_8 am, the common room_

Edmund is in the common room at eight a.m. sharp for breakfast, but of the others only Sir Maxwell and Rex are already up.

Still, Edmund knows who they are.  How could he not, being here last night and watching the palpable hero-worship?  He heard the toasts, and everyone has heard stories at least of the L.

He isn’t sure he wants to do this, but- what the hell, eh?

Still, it’ll be good when they get up.

***

_10 am, the plains northwest of Pesh City_

Horbin the MFKG Holy appears with Orbius Visionary in the midst of many Forinthian soldiers and at once they hear the sounds of blades being drawn.

“Horbin the Holy,” says Bishop Curmath of Pesh, surprised.  He is in the middle of discussion certain military matters with one of the generals while they walk through the camp, simultaneously inspecting the troops.  He turns fully to face Horbin, wondering what he can possibly want.

“We come to you in the name of Galador’s blind son Dexter,” Horbin cries dramatically.  “We seek to destroy a foulness upon the land, and we wish the aid of other good Galadorians!  Tell me, have you heard of Bile Mountain?”

Bishop Curmath glances at Orbius, then looks back at Horbin.  “We are here on a mission for the Light,” he says firmly.  “It is rather _you_ who should join us, Horbin.”

“I will not stand against you, but I am on a quest for goodness.  We seek the final and complete overthrow of Bile Mountain, a sore of evil on Pesh itself!  Surely you must see the value of this.”

“You keep odd company for a man in the Light,” Curmath answers.  He nods.  “Yes, we know of your Chaos-ridden companions- criminals and heretics!”

“What!  None of my companions are criminals!”

“Lester,” the Bishop says with profound distaste, “has spent time in jail.  Several of your companions are on the run from the law.  How can you say that?  Horbin,” he goes on persuasively, “you are a well-intentioned man- but you walk on the edge of shadow.  You travel with Chaos and Evil both!  You risk the favor of the Light, you risk your very soul.  And now, at a time when _sides must be chosen,_ and Galador has chosen his side- you seek to sway us from out course?  Join us,” he says again.

“I serve the Light, but I disagree that we must all take sides.  And I won’t fight Galador- I _won’t._  But I think that military power is being used wrongly, and it’s resulting in the death and injury of many innocent people!  I won’t be party to that either!  What we’re trying to do,” and Horbin urges his voice into its most beguiling aspect, “is to stomp out an evil chancre that’s been on Pesh for quite some time!”

“And yet,” the Bishop responds, “you were said to have destroyed Bile Mountain before.  In fact, is that not why it is now called Angelfire Mountain?  Why the need to return?  Do you seek to trick our forces into some trap, Horbin?”  He shakes his head.  “You teeter,” he repeats, “on the edge of darkness.  You must come back into the Light or be forsaken.”

Angrily, Horbin shakes his head back at Bishop Curmath.  “No, it’s all of you who teeter- you teeter on the edge of evil!  You don’t care about the loss of innocent lives, you only care about your ambitions.”

“I care about following the orders passed down to me by Galador, through his trusted servants, who surely are far wiser and able to see far more than I can.  You border on heresy, Horbin!  Beware that you do not go too far!”

“Then you will not help us,” Horbin sighs.

“This was a waste of time,” Orbius grunts to himself, grabbing Horbin and _teleporting_ them back to the others in the small town of Angelfire.  

Orbius’ divinations have continued to point towards some sort of garrison being pivotal in luring the Bile Lords out of their hidden lair.  Our heroes aren’t sure where this garrison is, or whether they need to assume control of it or destroy or what, but they figure they might need some soldiers for it.  Horbin was hoping to lure some of the Forinthians on Pesh away from the war effort and into something, in his view, more constructive.  

_Law versus Chaos,_ he thinks angrily.  _How dare they put that above good and evil?

How_ dare_ he tell me I’m on the edge of darkness?!_

***

_1 pm, 9/28/368 O.L.G., inside Angelfire Mountain, ascending_

Our heroes continue their explorations the next day.  So far nothing has really threatened them on the same level that _everything_ Acererak and Felenga threatened them on.  Hell, when they were here before they were running scared; but they _won._  And they’ve grown considerably in power since then; Orbius can even _wish_ now, a feat equaled by few wizards alive.  He is probably not the most powerful wizard on Cydra, but he certainly ranks in the top ten if not the top five... or three.  It’s the same with all of them; from Thrush- the self-declared preeminent swordsman of his age- to Horbin, a cleric of such searing purity that Dexter’s will seems manifest in his every word.  These adventurers are no slouches; they are hard-core, long-term, kick-in-the-door adventurers.  They are world-famous.  They have fought a demilich and won, defeated Angels of the Apocalypse, slain a Prince of Elemental Evil.  

In short, they’re starting to get cocky.

Their journey up the mountain today began, interestingly enough, with yet another ally- a half-elf monk named Kagera.  She seems intent on proving her mental and physical mastery to herself, and after a brief initial period of wariness and careful questioning, she joined the party easily.

They cut their way through some sort of shadow-shifting cloaker thing; they destroy a golem with ease.  The strange arthropod bile monster dies with hardly a chance to act (though it does try to disarm Thrush).

Yep, things are going well, and Bile Mountain so far shows no sign of throwing any real resistance their way....


*Something along these lines is generally Lester’s modus operandus when it comes to meeting new pcs.  :Rollseyes: (damn I miss that smiley!) 


_*Next Time:*_ Bile Mountain throws real resistance the party’s way!!


----------



## the Jester

Party roster as of the last update:

Sybele (fighter 8/egoist 11/warrior of chaos 2)
Sir Maxwell (paladin 13/knight of the chalice 6)
Lester (elementalist 14/warrior of chaos 4/divine oracle 2/contemplative 2/paraelementalist 1)
Edmund (fighter 18)
Res (sorcerer 1/fighter 1/ranger 1/monk 5/dragon disciple 10/half-dragon paragon 1/tattooed monk 1)
Ulla (druid 7/shifter 10/warshaper 2)
Kagera (monk 18)

A couple of interesting notes: We only had Edmund for one game, but he was a wry presence while he was there.  Also, I have determined that nobody starts above 18th level; there just aren't enough unknown quantities of that magnitude out there.  I might make occasional exceptions if the party is in extremely unusual locations (like Sigil or something), but I think that's the general starting ceiling.  I'm not sure what I'll do when/if the party gets significantly higher level... meh, we'll see.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*So what did Orbius do to Lester?*

??? - I shouldn't have to ask, since I play both of them.  However, I'll let you write it into next story hour . . . and leave our readers in suspense till then!


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*So What Did Orbius do to Lester?*

I shouldn't have to ask, since I play both of them, but I thought I'd remind you, Jester, and let the suspense build until then . . . 

Also, so what if our party is cocky?  When was the last time scared sissies ever saved the world, . . . or killed a dragon, . . . or did anything remotely entertaining for Story Hour?!?


----------



## the Jester

_4 pm, 9/28/368 O.L.G., inside Angelfire Mountain, ascending_

Tromping up through Bile Mountain, our heroes continue to explore.  They almost cleared the entire place out once before; now only a few surviving monsters remain to oppose them, and most of them are no real challenge.  A disgusting stink lingers in the passages and rooms; yellow stains are all over, and the walls are perforated with small holes eaten away by the bile over the centuries.

Lester can’t help but keep glancing at his wings.  Overnight they have _changed._  Instead of the old, threatening, bat-style wings, they are now almost... angelic.  It’s a wonder.  How could something like this have happened?  

Is it a sign?  Are the angels of Heaven finally starting to accept him??

Edmund is a little annoyed.  He hasn’t even gotten to swing his sword yet.  He shakes his head.  _Why am I even here?_ he wonders idly, then shrugs.  At least there’s a few coins to be made.

Suddenly there’s a sound from ahead- a loud snarling sound, the scraping of Thrush’s sword through flesh, something cries out...

“I’ll let you handle this,” Edmund says sardonically.  He leans back against a wall and crosses his arms over his chest.  “If you need anything, let me know.”

The party has come to a chamber with a staircase leading up, but a terrible creature stands snarling before them, guarding the stairway.  It is a pale dead whitish-grey, obviously undead, with a long, snaky neck.  Its ears are bat like; its large black eyes stare ahead hatefully.  Cracked dirty claws emerge from its hands and leathery bat-wings beat the air behind its back.  Thrush stands before it, having already chopped down its minions.  Sir Maxwell rushes in, striking at the creature and smashing a hammer into it.  There’s a crunching sound, but the creature remains standing.  It retreats up the stairs, followed by Sybele, Lester and Maxwell, with Orbius in hot pursuit.

_I’ve seen these before, here in Bile Mountain,_ Orbius realizes.  His mind flicks through the enormous knowledge of undead that he’s accumulated over the years and recognizes it as an aag- a terribly powerful monster full of venom and negative energy.  “Careful!” he calls after the others, “These things are dangerous!”

As it flees, the aag’s arm is blown off by a _puncture_ from Orbius, and a succession of deadly magical vapors explode from his _time stop_, surrounding the creature and billowing through the hole at the top of the stairs!  It grunts, then starts making passes through the air with its hand and snarling out some sort of profane utterances.

It’s too slow, however.  Lester has already thrown a spell of his own, and a _sunburst_ flashes through the chamber.  There are cries and screams as almost everyone is blinded, but the aag is destroyed utterly.  For just an instant, however, the L (or, as he now prefers, the Angel of Adventure) catches a glimpse of several more of the creatures outlined by the burst.  He blinks the spots away, still able to see- four more of them!  And a hand materializing between him and one of them... the L recognizes it as a _Bigby’s interposing hand_.

“Incoming!” he shouts, and then gives a yell of pain as one of them spits a gob of bile that bursts wetly over the group.  He can hear Orbius, blinded, screaming for him.  With a grunt of dismay, Lester thinks, _To hell with it,_ and tosses another _sunburst_ into the room.  This one destroys the aag sorcerer who created the hand.  Then a quickened _pass through earth and stone_ and he is ready to sink into- 

“Dammit!” he curses, as he glares at the stained rock of the walls.  He could move into it, but then he’d be exposed to the bile.  _To hell with it,_ he thinks again firmly, and drops into the stone, moving into a better tactical position.

Sir Maxwell, meanwhile, swiftly moves in and engages one of the aags; but he is utterly unable to penetrate its defenses.  The aag sneers at him, spittle spraying from its mealy grey mouth.  It seems utterly contemptuous of his best efforts, and Sir Maxwell Norrington is not accustomed to being treated with contempt- much less by the undead!

“Garnet!” he cries, and swings again- a mighty blow, nearly the best he could possibly manage- to no avail!  Maxwell gapes at the aag.  How tough _are_ these things??*

The aag laughs at him.  “Analin,” it rumbles.  “That is the name of your killer.”  It smiles and lunges forward, slashes with its claws, biting, buffeting the paladin with its wings.  Maxwell grunts and groans as the blows deal telling damage- and on top of the physical damage, he feels the scald of venom entering him from the bite.  Negative energy courses through each blow, dealing terrible physical damage as well as draining his energy.  Sir Maxwell gasps and withers before its assault, suffering terribly.

Suddenly- inexplicably- the blindness lifts.**  Sybele blinks twice and moves into a firing position, but as she does Analin takes a bite out of her, his long snaky neck letting him reach her a surprising distance away.  She fires a _psionic shot_ at one of the other aags, hitting it.  This one, she notes with dismay, is wearing full plate armor.  It grins in her direction, clicking its claws together, but turns to a closer target- Lester.  Even blinded, it manages to strike home with two claws.  Lester groans and shudders as the energy drain hits him.

Kagera springs in and out of the melee, kicking and striking, but she can’t seem to hurt Analin.  None of them can!  And all of these aags are terrible tough... She whirls away again, moving so quickly that the enemy can’t strike back at her.***

Jezebel has been enhancing the group as much as possible, and Thrush, rendered _greater invisible_ by her, finally clambers into the room just as Lester unleashes a blaze of divine flame and a tremendous series of electrical bolts.  He lays about him but the aags are much tougher than he had expected and he misses.  He draws his sword back into a guard position and makes a mental note to go for more accuracy and less strength to the blows on his next sequence of attacks.  He grins fiercely; this might be a good fight at last.

Indeed.  

Our heroes beat down the armored aag quickly, but they can’t even scratch the sneering Analin, and he drops Thrush in mere moments.  “Honey!” cries Sybele.  The terrible aag seems possessed of incredible, near-deific power.

The elemental blasts, powerful sorceries of Orbius and incredible skill at arms of our heroes slowly wear on one of the other aags.  _Three down, two to go_ thinks Sybele, but Analin still hasn’t been touched.  Even the _sunbursts_ didn’t harm him!

The party slowly hacks the last one other than Analin down, and then its them against the seemingly untouchable aag.  

It glances around at its fallen companions, at Thrush’s bleeding form, at our wounded heroes.  It chuckles and spits a huge gob of phlegm at Sir Maxwell’s feet. 

The party and the aag rush together.  _Seeker missiles_ from Orbius manage to deal some damage at last, but it heals in seconds and things are back where they started, except that Lester and Sir Maxwell have a few more wounds.  The paladin lunges again, and the aag catches the blow with his forearm, sneering and ignoring the force behind it.  Maxwell gives a yell of frustration.  

Analin relieves him of the burden of his frustration by beating him unconscious, smacking him across the head with a wing buffet.  The knight of the chalice crumples to the ground.

Orbius and Lester are now concentrating their spell power on Analin, and though some of their magic gets through, the creature is clearly too powerful to overcome with damage before it overcomes them with its terrible claws and bite and wings.  Orbius is staying below, firing what spells he can without actually being in its presence.  Thanks to the _extra eye_ he placed earlier on the Angel of Adventure, he can still see up there.  Lester, cursing more colorfully than he has in several months, pulls the old _flesh to stone_ trick out and tries that one- and to his amazement, it appears to succeed!

He draws back.  “I... I think I got him,” he gasps.  He’s bloodied and badly wounded.  

A few potions, and everyone’s conscious again.  “Wow, those guys were tough,” groans Kagera.  “I could hardly hit them- and not at all on the toughest guy!”

“None of us could hurt him,” Sybele agrees.  She shakes her head.  That was a close one.  

“We can’t forget how _dangerous_ the Bile Lords and their servants are,” Thrush says in a hushed voice.  “Trust me on this, I know.”

The party starts searching the bodies, and almost immediately a grim Orbius has bad news for him.

“That statue?”  He gestures at Analin’s form.  “It’s an _illusion._”

***

_5 pm, 9/28/368 O.L.G., inside Angelfire Mountain, uppermost level_

Analin stands easily before the Bile Lord Zurtneg.  He is not cowed; he is no servant to a mere Bile Lord.  He serves their King directly.  

“You were correct,” he rumbles at Zurtneg.  “The adventurers are back.  Several of them match the description you gave.”

Zurtneg studies the aag for a moment, his expression inscrutable.  Then he nods as if to himself and issues a _sending_.

_Release the bile stirges,_ he orders.


_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes face hundreds and hundreds of bile breathing stirges!


*In Analin’s case, AC 59.

**Thank Orbius and his _limited wish._

***In other words, Spring Attacking.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Sounds like an incredible fight! Could you put up the stats for that guy in your Rogue's Gallery thread? (if you do, could you post a link?)


----------



## the Jester

Already done.  No link, but go look for the thread.  

My players, as always, stay the hell outta there.


----------



## the Jester

*A flurry of divinations*

_5 pm, 9/28/368 O.L.G., inside Angelfire Mountain_

Our heroes, clustered around the illusion of the aag Analin’s petrified form, grow worried.  If he was so tough before that they couldn’t even scratch him...

“I think it’s time for some divinations,” Orbius offers nervously.  “We need to find out more about this garrison that will draw out the Bile Lords, and what we need to do to it or about it.”

“There’s a garrison?”  Edmund chuckles as the group explains their confusion on the matter.  He is still simply leaning against the wall and watching.  “Maybe you need to establish a garrison here, not destroy one.”

Several of our heroes smack their heads.  “Of course!” exclaims Orbius.  “And we can probably verify that fairly easily!”

“And if that’s the case,” Lester adds cheerfully, “we may be able to borrow one from Malford!”  The others look at him dubiously, but they tromp back down several levels to the entrance of Mount Angelfire.  

Edmund takes his leave of the group, taking his whiny ally Baldric with him.  “Let’s go back to Var!” Lester then exclaims.  “So we can talk to Malford!”

Orbius nods, though he thinks it unlikely the god-king will help.  “For now that seems to be the best course.”  A walk through a trump later, they’ve returned to the castle of Var, and thence hurry to Horbin’s Halls of Healing. 

Our heroes spend the evening chatting and discussing things.  They talk about resurrecting Azekia, the solar who aided them in the Tomb of Horrors, but greed gets the better of Lester and he objects.  Orbius frowns as the L says, “No way!  We still owe her for her service, and if we bring her back we’ll have to pay up!”

“Well, I don’t know if Dexter would agree with your stance,” Horbin replies dryly.

“Aw, man, Azekia was a stuck up snob and a tight ass!  Dexter wasn’t like that at all- he was more like you, Horbin.  You know, he gave his life for all of us- the second time around, I mean.  But he’s still alive, I think- or something.”  He leans back, following the tangent artfully away from Azekia and rambling on, telling the story of how he and his allies, including Dexter, had needed to gather certain items and fulfill certain tasks in order to make Cydra real.*  “One of those things was for one of us to assume the mantle of the Harvester of Water.  And it was Dexter that did it.”  He winks at the Eye.  “That was the same adventure where we brought Boccob and his pals to Cydra.”  By the time he’s done with his story, everyone’s forgotten all about bringing Azekia back, at least for the moment.

_9 p.m., 9/28/368 O.L.G., the Halls of Healing, Var_

Our heroes are chatting amicably over beer when Sybele first suggests making Thrush into the Emperor of Forinthia.  “After all,” she says, “the old one’s gone, right?  That’s a lot of what’s led to a lot of the big conflicts going on.”

“Emperor of Forinthia.  Emperor Thrush.”  Thrush tastes the words, leans back in the simple wooden chair he’s in, and slowly says, “I like that.  I’ll have to mull that over.”

Horbin raises his eyebrows.  “Well, you could get the blessings of Galador if you support the true vision of Galador and his blind Son Dexter.”  He takes a speculative sip of his beverage.  The furnishings here are relatively simple; though the chapel itself is decorated a bit more, the dining hall is very plain, and the dishes and cups are mostly simple fired clay, purchased from the gnome potters of Var.

Idle talk?  Time will tell.

_10 a.m., 9/29/368 O.L.G._

Lester _communes_ with Malford.

_Will you let us borrow a garrison?_ *No.*
_Know anyone who would?_ *No.*
_Would an illusion bring out the Bile Lords?_ *Unlikely.*
_You think it would have to be a real garrison, huh?_ *Yes.*
_You think anyone on Pesh would have an interest in getting rid of the Bile Lords?_ *Yes.*
_Is this person in the Forinthian military?_ *Yes.*
_Does their commander on Pesh have such an interest?_ *Yes.*
_Any chance we could diplomacy it?_ *Yes.*
_Would it have to involve surrendering or permanently allying ourselves to Forinthia?_ *Maybe.*
_If Horbin approached the commander would we be more likely to succeed?_ *Yes.*
_Does the commander know of my _geas_ to never raise a hand against Galador?_ *No.*
_If we can reach an accommodation with him, will it involve troops?_ *Unknown.*
_Would a _miracle_ get rid of the taint in Bile Mountain?_ *Not completely.*
_Will gaining the help of the Forinthian leader make the job of defeating the Bile Lords significantly easier?_ *No.*
_By using his help can we employ a stratagem to lure out the Bile Lords?_ *Unknown.*
_Is Anvar mad at me?_ *Uncertain.*
_Are any of the Bile Lords clerics?_ *No.*
_Are all of the Bile Lords spellcasters?_ *Unknown.*
_Do you think our chances are pretty good?_ *Ask again later.*
_Have the Bile Lords brought back the aags we destroyed?_ *Unknown.*
_Do we have anything to worry about regarding the poison from the bites of the aags?_ *Yes.*

“Uh oh,” he mutters.  “We better see if there’s something we can do about the poison’s aftereffects- whatever they are.”  He reports his findings and Orbius follows up with a _contact other plane._

_Why did Malford tell Lester to worry about the aag poison?_ *Spawn.*
_What spell does Horbin have that could annihilate the spawn?_ *None.*
_Would a _limited wish?  *No.*
_Give me the name of Lester’s spell that will annihilate the spawn?_ *None.*

He purses his lips, dissatisfied.  Thinking of the garrison, he realizes, _I’m thinking about this all wrong.

When will the spawning take place?_ *Death.*
_Give me the name of someone who can prevent or get rid of the spawning._ *Horbin.*
_Will he be able to get rid of the spawning by casting a spell today?_ *No.*
_What must he do to get rid of the spawning in infected party members?_ *Bless.*

_That sounds like a spell to me,_ Orbius thinks, pondering.

_Who am I talking to?_ *Na’Rat.*

Suddenly the ground begins to shake.  There’s a roaring sound and several objects fall from nearby shelves, including a clay bowl that shatters.  Orbius is nearly thrown from his feet.  

_So what’s got you so irritated that the ground shakes when people say your name?_ *War.*

“Well, well,” says the Eye of Boccob.  Again, some discussion ensues, followed by a _commune_ from Horbin.

_Hey Dexter, what’s up?  Say, is the War of Ethics going well for the creature Orbius just contacted?_ *Yes.*
_Does the ring we found on one of the aags allow one to dimension door or teleport into inner sanctum of Bile Mountain?_ *No.*
_Does teleportation magic work in any part of Bile Mountain?_ *No.*
_Is there an undead spawn among the party members?_ *No.*
_Is there currently any danger of an undead springing out of any of our party members when they die?_ *Yes.*
_Is it Sybele?_ *No.*
_Lester?_ *Yes.*
_Thrush?_ *Yes.*
_The monk Kagera?_ *No.*
_To eliminate this danger, will I cast a spell normally?_ *Yes.*
_Is Bile Mountain being supplied?_ *No.*
_Do the Bile Lords eat or consume?_ *Yes.*
_Will besieging their mountain worry them?_ *Yes.*
_Can they withstand a siege for a year or more?_ *Yes.*
_Ten years?_ *Yes.*
_Is there a Bile Lord spawning ground?_ *Unknown.*
_Do the Bile Lords have a bolt hole or secret exit?_ *Likely.*
_Do they receive visitors?_ *Unknown.*
_Can the faith of you, Dexter, the Blind Son of Galador, survive a change of government on Forinthia?_ *Of course.*
_Is the leader of the fleet outside of Pesh a loyal Galadorian?_ *Yes.*
_Is the Emperor of Forinthia alive?_ *Yes- his time is nigh.*

“Whoa,” says Horbin.  That last answer floors him.  He tells them what he’s learned, and they all exchange worried glances.  

“No worries,” says Drelvin.  “The Emperor is cool.  We’re old friends.  Well, sort of- he and I are friendly, at least.”

“Dude, that was years ago,” gripes Lester.

“We went to Hell together,” Drelvin explains to the others.  “Literally.  Prayzose is a nice guy.”

As they are chatting, Sybele suddenly stiffens in her chair as she receives a _sending_ from Marius the Chronomancer.   _Sybele- I call upon you for the second time.  Drop any protections you have against scrying and prepare yourself._**  She stands quickly.  “Um, I gotta go,” she says.  “Marius is calling.”

“Screw Marius!” Horbin snarls.

“No, I made a deal- I don’t know, though...”

“Marius?  Great!” Jezebel exclaims, grinning.  “I miss him!  I want to come!”

Lester and Horbin exchange an uneasy glance.  


_*Next Time:*_ What is Sybele’s second task?  What does it mean that the Emperor’s “time is nigh”?  And what other old enemies of our heroes are waiting to crawl out of the woodwork??


*There’s a long, complicated backstory here, involving Darkhold and Fuligin and stuff, but Lester told a fragmented bit only, so that’s what you get here.  Some day, in the Early Years thread....

**To rescue her daughter, Sybele made a deal with Marius, a powerful chronomancer, that she would serve him thrice.  She has done so once already; this is number two.


----------



## Knightfall

I was wondering when Marius was going to come up again. And right at the wrong time. I wonder if he planned it that way, hmm?


----------



## the Jester

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> I was wondering when Marius was going to come up again. And right at the wrong time. I wonder if he planned it that way, hmm?




Oh, I'm afraid that there's a lot more to this than just Marius.  He just wanted Sybele so he could show off.


----------



## the Jester

*The Appointment of the Arrows*

_11:30 a.m., 9/29/368 O.L.G., the Halls of Healing, Var_

“First things first,” says Horbin, and he invokes Dexter’s _blessing_ on the group.  “Hopefully that will fix the spawning issue,” he comments.  Orbius frowns to himself, momentarily concerned that Horbin’s _commune_ didn’t seem to completely match his own _contact other plane._  Then he dismisses his concern; after all, the entities contacted via his own arcane spell are known for less than total veracity.

Then Horbin turns to Sybele.  “I don’t want Marius here.  Let’s go somewhere else for this.” 

The party tromps outside and walks down the cobbled streets of Var until they reach an area that has not yet been reclaimed from Fuligin’s ravages.  Much of the ruined sections of the town are still uninhabited, with many of the buildings merely shells that seem eager to fall in a stiff wind.  Traces of fire, occasional bones, graffiti in Abyssal and Infernal- the mark of evil still lays grim and heavy on Var.

It doesn’t take long for Marius the Chronomancer to arrive, resplendent in robes of silver and green.  His hair is freshly cut, a light amber color from much time outdoors.  His beard is trimmed neatly.  An ostentatious show of wealth glitters on his fingers and around his neck.  

“Marius!” cries Jezebel with joy, and rushes forward to embrace him.  He smiles as he holds her close to him for a long moment- making Orbius rather uncomfortable- and then releases her.  

“Jezebel,” he says with evident pleasure.  “It’s good to see you.”

“I missed you!”

“And I, you.”

“All right, that’s enough,” Horbin snaps.  “Let’s get this over with.”

Marius turns to look Horbin the MFKG Holy in the eye.  He smiles slowly.  “Your presence is neither requested nor required,” he says.  “The only one I need is Sybele.”

“Can I come too?” Jezebel pleads.

“Very well,” he acquiesces easily.  “Are you ready?”  This is directed to Sybele. 

She glances at Thrush, then nods.

“I want to go too!” Thrush blurts out.  “If you’re going, honey, I’m coming with you!”

“I think not,” the chronomancer retorts.  Thrush’s face goes red and he opens his mouth to argue, but Marius cuts him off.  “Sybele will be in no real danger.  If she was, I would not allow Jezebel to accompany us.”

“Then why not me too?”

Marius smiles slyly.  “Sybele is enough to make my point.”  And with that, he opens a _gate._

_ Noon, 9/29/368 O.L.G., the Fields of Appointment, Elysium_

Sybele, Marius and Jezebel step through the _gate_.  Marius is well-prepared for the sight that greets them, but even so he cannot help it; his breath catches in his throat for a moment. 

Completely taken aback, Sybele and her half-dragon daughter can only gape.

Before them are armies arrayed in precise ranks, extending as far as they can see.  Thousands- maybe _millions_- of men, dwarves and many other things.  Glowing like the sun, wheeling through the sky, several dozen angels keep watch above.  And over there... devils?!  And row after row after row of formians, and there are some giants, and...

Sybele shakes her head, dizzy at the sight of so much assembled might.  _What is this?_ she wonders, but she’s already answering her own question.  _Law.  This is the force of Law!  But- why did Marius bring me here?_

“Stay behind me, as a bodyguard,” the wizard tells her, striding forward, and she and Jezebel follow him.  Before the great host is a smaller assembly, centering on a half dozen individuals, all with small cadres of bodyguards.  Sybele gasps as she recognizes one of them- Cluma, the guardian of order that the group killed long ago on Pesh, only to have his allies raise him from the dead and file a lawsuit against them.  Cluma, with a seven part rod assembled in his hand- thanks to Marius’ trickery so many months before, when he had them trapped in a time loop.

Then her eyes go _really_ wide as she spots a man she’s never seen, but recognizes as the face on most of her coins.  _Emperor Prayzose,_ she thinks in shock.  _What the hell is going on here??  He’s been missing for more than five years!_  And, she must remind herself, she is indirectly a part of the reason for it.  She gulps, hoping he can’t read her thoughts at the moment.

What are they here for?  The answer is only moments away.  As Marius takes his place as the seventh individual in the inner circle, it becomes clear that they’ve been awaiting him.  Sybele feels almost naked amongst so much incredible power of Law- and she can’t miss the fact that many glances are thrown her way.  She can almost hear the whispers: _Marius has a warrior of Chaos under his power!  She’s bodyguarding him here, in the midst of the forces of Law!_  She has a feeling that the chronomancer’s prestige has just jumped up considerably. 

The ceremony begins.

It is an investiture of sorts, Sybele quickly realizes; and soon enough the titles are announced.  Some kind of inevitable bearing pins or badges in the shape of arrows goes from one to the next of the seven, asking each a question and receiving the same answer from each, and pinning the arrow to his breast.

“Emperor Prayzose of Forinthia, High Priest of the Light, do you accept your appointment as the First Arrow of Law?”

“I do.”

The metal creature solemnly fastens the Emperor’s badge to him.

“Cluma, Guardian of Order, wielder of the sacred Rod of Seven Parts, do you accept your appointment as the Second Arrow of Law?”

“I do.”

The investor moves around the circle, and none of them refuse their appointment.

“The Judge of Worlds, bringer of Law and ender of Chaos, do you accept your appointment as the Third Arrow of Law?

“Umoadess, by whatever name you choose, Lord of Many Worlds, do you accept your appointment as the Fourth Arrow of Law?

“Dekrasode, who brings the thunder and lightning, do you accept your appointment as the Fifth Arrow of Law?”

_Dekrasode,_ thinks Sybele.  _That’s King Malford’s old enemy- the dragon that impersonated the Emperor of Wotan!  Why does he keep looking at me like that?  I hope he’s not still mad about the whole hatching of the dragon eggs... and I hope he doesn’t try to have me held here, the Court of Law is still looking for us!_

“Marius the Chronomancer, do you accept your appointment as the Sixth Arrow of Law?

“Lord Alyth of Fendobarz, conqueror of many planes, do you accept your appointment as the Seventh Arrow of Law?”

The last response- a quiet “I do”- and then the ceremony is over. 

“I don’t expect you to keep this a secret from your friends,” Marius tells Sybele moments later.  “All of this will become well-known soon enough.”  He smiles.  “And now we’re done- for the moment.  But don’t forget- your final task will come.”

“Oh, Marius,” sighs Jezebel, “that’s wonderful!  You’ve really reached some lofty heights!”

“Indeed,” he answers, smiling tenderly at her.

_6 p.m., 9/29/368 O.L.G., the Three Rubies tavern, Var_

Over dinner and drinks our heroes are discussing the ceremony that Sybele was just witness to.  “It looked like a multiplanar force,” Sybele responds to a question.

“Marius!  Man, we need to do something about that guy!”  Horbin swears to himself.  “I can’t wait to explain a few things to him.”

Jezebel glowers at him.  “What do you mean?  Marius is a great man.  He’s no danger to us.”

“No, we’re a danger to him,” mutters Horbin.

“Obviously there’s some sort of a misunderstanding between you and him,” Jezebel replies easily.  “You just need to work out your differences.”

“Work out...?  He held Till for years in a lower-planar prison!  He kidnapped a bunch of our friends...”

“There must be some mistake, Marius wouldn’t do that.”

“He kidnapped _you!_”

“Well, that’s not how I heard the story,” she says huffily.  “And I think I’ve heard enough!  Stop talking about him like he’s an enemy, he’s not!”  There’s a tear in the half-dragon’s eye.

Our heroes go to Reina’s house- Lester’s girlfriend- and spend the night in what they have come to fondly refer to as ‘adventurer groupie land.’  


_*Next Time:*_ What do you do when you face thousands of breath weapons at once?


----------



## the Jester

Edit: Whoops!  Looks like the first time I posted this it got eaten, so let me insert this between that last update there and the one that _was_ here, and then I'll stick that'n after it...   

_2 p.m., 9/30/368 O.L.G., inside Angelfire Mountain_

Our heroes have returned to what was once known as Bile Mountain.  They wait momentarily while Orbius sends his _mobile scry_ ahead.  Lester is intoning syllables of elemental power, summoning a veritable army of incredibly powerful elementals.  

“What’s up there?” asks Rex. 

“Corridors... wait...”  Orbius lets out a low whistle.  “Stirges.  _Lots_ of them.  They’re... they’re roosting on the ceiling, and they literally _cover it._*  Boccob’s balls!  There are _tons_ of them!”

Lester strides over.  “No problem!” he says cheerfully.

The elementals move up to the level in question and form into whirlwinds.  The group can hear a terrible noise arise, thousands of wings, splashing, the roar of high winds.  Elementals and stirges alike die, but in the end the stirges can’t kill the elementals fast enough.  Our heroes wait a few moments, then advance after the elementals to a scene of appalling carnage.  Bile and blood and stirge bits are everywhere.  The remaining elementals are mopping up the remaining stirges, but Lester’s swarm of elementals has been reduced to a precious few.  A few minutes later it’s all over.

“Well,” says Lester abruptly, “it’s been fun, guys, but I gotta go.”

Everyone turns to him.  “What?” Thrush gapes.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately,” the L goes on.  “I am the Angel of Adventure and all, but I also have a lot of responsibilities.  Some conversations I’ve had with Anvar have made me realize that I’ve been shirking my duty to the Temple of Elemental Good.  I have a lot of work to do with those guys.”

“But, but Lester-“ Sybele protests.

“Aw, c’mon, guys, it isn’t like we’ll never see each other again!  And if you ever really need me, you know where to find me.  Well, maybe you don’t, since the Temple is hidden, but I’m sure you could manage to do it.  Horbin could send me a _sending_ or something.”  He turns to Orbius.  “What do you say, pal?”

The Eye glances sadly at Jezebel.  “I’ll be in touch,” he says softly.  She beams at him.  “But I think Lester needs someone like me to look out for him.”

“Seeya, guys,” the L says sadly, and he and Orbius leave the group.**

_*Next Time:*_ Without Lester and Orbius, our heroes move on up to the fifth level of Bile Mountain- formerly the beholder level!

*As tiny creatures, four stirges will fit into a 5’ square.  The area in question was a 15’ wide passage 100’ long (60 squares), plus a section 15’x25’ (another 15 squares), plus a section 15’x190’ long (another 114 squares), plus another 15’x70’ (another 52 squares), plus a room 30’x50’ (60 more squares), yielding a total of 1204 bile-templated stirges, all capable of unleashing breath weapons that do a wee bit of damage and a wee bit of constitution damage.  Sure, the DC is low, but if you’re rolling thousands of saving throws, you’re bound to fail a few, right? 

Interestingly, by the book an encounter like this is worth NO XP to the party (because they’re so damn high level), but I ad hoc’ed it.  It was a tactical challenge that, if mishandled, could have easily led to a tpk.  

**Why did this happen, you ask?  Well, it’s because James (Lester’s player) had a baby.  This really limits his gaming time, so he asked me to start an online/pbp/email game for the L.  This was his last regular game with us, sadly, though he has made it to one halfling session subsequently and he may be able to make it this weekend for another halfling session.  *crosses fingers*


----------



## the Jester

*To the Inner Sanctum*

_2:30 p.m., 9/30/368 O.L.G., inside Angelfire Mountain_

Our heroes creep up the stairs and make their way through a stinking mass of dead stirges and bile froth.  The devastated area smells terrible.  

“This place is gross!” Jezebel snaps.  “I don’t like it here.”  Sybele pats her on the shoulder.

The party moves through several chambers containing the moldering corpses of illithids, which only add to the smell, and they even spot the wall of temporal energy behind which they long ago found the body of Reth Fire-Scarred.  Then they find a chamber with a strange creature levitating asleep in the air.  Although it is more or less humanoid, its head is distinctly teardrop-shaped.  Its skin is a bright bluish-silver, and long shaggy hair the color of a lime spills down its back.  Its large eyes are closed and the lids twitch and spasm as if it is in the midst of an incredibly vivid dream.  All around it on the ground are strange creatures ranging from demons to archons to noble salamanders.  They, too, seem to be asleep.

Suddenly the creature gives out a strained, high scream.  A momentary sense of fear washes over our heroes, but all of them throw it off.  

“What is that?” wonders Rex.

Nobody has an answer.  On the ground, one of the outsiders lets out a strange coughing scream, but all the creatures seem to remain asleep.  The demon scream doesn’t seem to have the same effect as that of the weird levitating creature, so our heroes cautiously move in and start searching.  Almost immediately, Rex’s draconic senses find a secret door and our heroes slip through it to a staircase leading upwards. 

“I don’t think we ever fully explored this level,” comments Sybele thoughtfully.  “We did a lot of _teleporting_ around in Bile Mountain when we came in before.”

Thrush shakes his head.  “I don’t _want_ to explore this place.  I want to find and kill the Bile Lords and be done with it.”

The group ascends, the dragon disciple eagerly taking the point.  He’s itching for a fight, and as the stairs open into a chamber, he sees an icy humanoid standing guard there, with a beard like an icefall, covered in runes.  Rex leaps forward and smashes it down in an instant; it never even has a chance to respond.  Grinning, he moves on.

“Well, that was easy,” Thrush comments.

This level of the dungeon is riddled with small holes that its previous residents, the beholders and their leader Red-Eye, had _disintegrated_ to make the entire thing a shooting gallery for their eye rays.  Sybele shivers remembering how many beholders there were.

The party enters a beholder dueling chamber, set with various small walls and pieces of cover.  Many vertical tunnels in the ceiling and floor are there as well, and it is by flying up one of these that the group moves forward.  Even without Orbius’ presence, the magicks he had employed to aid the group do their job.  Jezebel sighs.

Soon the group arrives at a four-way intersection.  To each side except behind a door awaits only 20’ away.

“One of these was the door that led to the stairs up to the final level,” Sybele says.  “But I can’t remember which.”  Thrush swallows, increasingly looking nervous about the prospect of returning to face his former masters.

“How did you get through there before?” asked Ulla.

“We got the key,” Horbin remembers.  “In fact, if I remember right, we actually made a deal with the leader of the ice giant guys.

“Wait,” interjects Rex.  “Like the guy I killed at the top of the stairs?”

Horbin nods.  “Yeah.”  Rex looks perturbed- if he’d known about that, he wouldn’t have killed the rune-covered creature.  But Horbin continues speaking before he has a chance to talk.  “I think one of these doors leads to his chamber, and I think one of them leads to the upper level, like Sybele said.”

The group fans out enough to look over each door, and one of them is made of a strange coppery metal.  “Orichalcum,” comments Sybele.

“That’s probably part of why the place is so hard to teleport or scry into,” Rex comments.

“You have no idea.  That’s actually more of a plug than a door.  It’s _forty feet thick._”  Horbin shakes his head balefully.  “Let’s go talk to the ice king guy.  His door was opposite the plug, I think.”

Indeed it is.  The immoth ruler greets our heroes’ return to Bile Mountain with a grim look, but when they tell him that they’re attempting to overthrow the Bile Lords, he loses much of his air of threat.  Then he seems persuaded to a helpful stance after a long negotiating session in which Sybele reveals her plan to open a casino in Bile Mountain.  Soon the two are partners.

“We need the key again,” Sybele pleads.

”I do not have it,” the immoth ruler replies.  “Since I gave it to you, it vanished.”

“It sank into the door,” remembers Horbin.

“But I can help you nonetheless.”  The immoth grins, a frozen grimace.  “I can _fabricate_ one.”

_5 p.m., 9/30/368 O.L.G._

The key sinks into the orichalcum plug, and slowly the plug recedes, revealing a hallway leading to a room.  The plug is indeed 40’ thick, and it rides back on some sort of treads to a resting place in the midst of a room.  Beyond the room, and faintly humming, is a massive, wide stairway up.  

“That’s it,” Horbin and Thrush say in unison, then grin wanly at each other.

“That’s the stairway to the final level,” Thrush finishes.

“The resonating fields,” Horbin says.  “Remember them?”

When they had ascended previously, the party had found a series of weird energy fields leading upward, each needing to be opened in a different way.  As the group now begins to walk onto the stairway, they feel an increasingly strong resistance.  Rex pushes through by sheer strength alone, and for a moment the field collapses, but not everyone can fit on the next set of steps at once, so the group’s forces are forced to split between different fields.  Worse, as Kagera discovers, a failed attempt to push through results in a stiff electrical shock that affects everyone still behind that field.

The next field won’t give to strength, but everyone can feel a strange slightly painful tingling.  Horbin recognizes it as negative energy, and snaps his finger.  “Of course!” he exclaims, and channels energy at the field, boring open a hole.  “This will only remain pierced for a moment,” he cries.  “Hurry!”  And he hustles through, followed by several others.  Meanwhile, Rex forces his way through the field of strength again, collapsing it for a moment and allowing those still trapped below to advance to the second field.

The third field falls to neither strength nor a turning attempt.  Sybele rubs her chin, unable to recall what the did here previously.  Horbin shrugs when she looks at him.

The resonating fields literally smell like magic.  Jezebel casts _detect magic_ to examine the fields more closely and says, “Wow.”  There are a lot of criss-crossing energy fields here, resonating and moving in a beautiful eldritch dance.  Under her detection, the entire stairway is possessed of spiky energy; but the resonating fields themselves are entirely obvious, almost opaque with their radiance.  The one before her now seems to be made of complexly interwoven strands of energy, like a wall of tangled string.  She thinks about trying to  _dispel_ it, only half-heartedly since she’s pretty sure such a simple tactic will fail, and then studies it further.  The string analogy is a good one... she reaches forward and touches it.  It almost feels like... she starts using her knowledge of spellcraft and her detection to unravel the field, tentatively at first and then more boldly.  She can do it!  And she does.  The field falls momentarily, and Horbin channels to bring down the second field, and everyone moves up.

The next field is barely visible to the naked eye, looking like warped paper pushed together in a large mass, with small gaps visible here and there.  The group soon ascertains that they might be able to wriggle through, but their first several attempts result in splattering acid damaging over everyone on the upper level.  “This isn’t working,” Rex complains.

“I can do it,” Kagera says from below.  

The party rotates positions, with Jezebel dropping the arcane field again so that Kagera can move up.  Then the monk studies the wall for a moment, selects a spot to try to squirm through, and starts working her way through the field like an eel.  In a moment, it has collapsed temporarily.

The final field fills everyone with a sense of being observed.  “This is where Zeebo persuaded it!” Sybele remembers.  “Please, Mr. Field, we want to get past you.  You remember some of us, right?  We’re old friends!  Let us through, please.”  And the field does.

The group moves off the stairs, the field behind being squirmed through again by Kagera to drop it, and the entire party find themselves in a 20’ square landing.  In the midst of it is an arcane diagram that fills most of the floor.  Runes and glyphs of power are all around it.  

“That’s the teleporter,” Horbin tells the party members who haven’t been here.

“I thought you couldn’t teleport here,” Ulla says.

“Right.  This is the only exception we found, and it’s of incredible complexity.  One might even say epic.”

“Well,” says Thrush nervously.  His sword is out.  Sweat is on his brow.  “Man, they’re gonna be after me.  I betrayed them.”  He takes a deep breath.  “Let’s get this over with.”

As one, the party moves onto the teleporter, and for the second time (for a few of them, anyway) they enter the Inner Sanctum of Bile Mountain.



*Next Time:* What awaits our heroes on the uppermost level of Bile Mountain?!?


----------



## the Jester

Note the new post inserted two posts ago.  Sorry the last one got posted out of sequence- the stirge post must have been eaten by the server, but I thought it got posted.  My bad.


----------



## Knightfall

Excellent stuff as usual. Look out Bile Lords, here come the Heroes of Chaos!


----------



## the Jester

*Within the Inner Sactum*

There’s a moment of dizzying disorientation, so bad that our heroes’ stomachs twist and momentarily threaten to empty themselves as the group appears in a chamber with four exits and-

Two large quadrupeds, tufted with ruined patches of fur, spit bile instantly at our heroes.  Before the adventurers have even a moment to respond, they’ve been hit by a tremendous amount of damage.*  Screams of pain echo as the group tries to shield themselves from the assault.  

Furious, Thrush springs forward, his full plate sounding like a kitchen’s worth of pots and pans as he launches into a series of deadly sword moves that leaves the first bile beast twitching on the ground and the second wounded in barely a second and a half.  Then, snarling, he draws back into a guard position.  Just in time for Kagera to leap in and spring away again after missing with a kick.  

But then the one that Thrush assumed he killed roars and struggles back to its feet, and he grits his teeth and hammers his greatsword down again.  “Stay down, dammit!” he snarls, cracking the bone of its skull, and the creature collapses again.  The other beast, meanwhile, tears into him, dragging its viciously sharp claws across his left side and tearing a slab of his arm away with its massive bite.  Thrush snarls again, but glances meaningfully in Horbin’s direction.

Horbin’s busy.  He fires off a _sunray,_ damaging one of the bile beasts and blinding it for good measure.  Then he unleashes the fury of Dexter in the form of a _flame strike,_ which sears the monster badly.  He glances over at Thrush- another round of attacks from the monster leaves him barely standing- and prepares a _mass heal._

If anyone needs that, it’s Jezebel.  The twin breath weapons almost killed her.  But her head is cocked; she heard something squeaking down one of the passages, and retreats that way, hoping to avoid any more large area attacks.  Sybele manages to transfer some health to her psionically as she hurries back towards the center of things after a glance in the direction of the noise. 

“More bile stirges!” she cries out, her voice panicky.  _Orbius!  Where are you when I need you?_ she moans inwardly.  Kagera turns to the new threat, looking composed, as Jezebel shoots a _fireball_ from a wand pulled from her belt.  

“What the hell are those?” cries Kagera.

“Sh*t!” shouts Sybele.  “Headless!”

Four weird creatures have emerged from one of the _other_ halls leading away.  They look at first glance like headless humans, but as they come forward they do weird little jumps and twists, shifting from one set of two limbs to the other.  It seems that all four of its limbs work well as hands or feet. 

Then they’re moving with unbelievable quickness, moving in gracefully to attack with their bare hands (or is it feet?).  They shuffle back and forth, baffling to watch, hard to anticipate and difficult to defend against.

It’s just the sort of challenge that Kagera is looking for.  

The monk leaps forward, and soon there is an almost blindingly-fast exchange of punches, chops, kicks and grabs between her and the headless.  Sybele belches psionic acid at a pair of the headless, who dodge it completely and move to her, but they are interrupted as Thrush finishes off the bile beast and whirls to chop at them, baffling attack or no.  There’s another flare of light and a _whump!_ as Jezebel continues launching _fireballs_ from her wand.  “They’re coming!” she screams.

Kagera spins through a tremendous kick, striking one of the headless in the midsection, and is gratified as it drops to the ground.  An especially strong blow drives the wind from another, leaving it stunned for a few precious instants- instants it cannot afford.  “KIIIAII!!!” the monk screams, and flips the headless over and snaps its spine over her knee.

“The bile beasts are regenerating!” cries Horbin, trying to finish one of them off.  Her curses.  “Fire, or acid!”

“Stirges!” Jezebel screams again, and this time her _fireball_ is just outside the room the group is in.  She’s almost running backwards into the chamber, and she heads towards the exit opposite the stirges.  She knows she can’t handle another volley of bile breath weapons at this point.  She glances around the room- the bile beasts are regenerating quickly, the stirges are coming, and the headless are just about down.  One is fleeing from Kagera, headed the way Jezebel herself is going, but a headless is probably a better bet than a ton of bile stirges.  She tosses another _fireball_ on the way, and then runs without looking back.

The headless turns out to be a much less safe enemy to pursue than she had calculated; as Kagera bursts through the door the headless springs through at the end of the hall, a terrible figure becomes visible- yellowed and old-looking, with bile dripping like sweat from it.  A horrendous stench emits from it.  Kagera tumbles away from it, gagging on the stink.

“The Bile Lords!” Sybele howls, seeing the figure from her position for an instant.  Then there’s a crack of lightning, and she can’t see what’s happening...

Jezebel, reappraising her strategy, twists and runs into the corner of the chamber the group arrived in, blasting more of the bile stirges- and one of the unconscious bile beasts- with another _fireball._  The stirges are just about cleared out; she notes that the bile beast doesn’t seem to regenerate the fire damage and smiles to herself.  _I can finish them off with my _scorching rays, she thinks. 

The rest of the party is moving towards the Bile Lord.  “We’ve already gotten two of you!” Horbin shouts.  “Now we’ve come to finish-“  He chokes off as he recognizes the face of their adversary as Amnor.

Who they’ve already killed.

“Hey, no fair!” Horbin protests, but Amnor has already waved a hand at Thrush and made him vanish into a _maze._

“Aw, man,” Sybele groans.  

Seconds later Amnor the Bile Lord, grinning ferociously, conjures an _acid storm._  Fat droplets of greasy liquid begin raining down, and they don’t really seem to bother him.  Our heroes, however, find the liquid painful and hiss and yelp as their skin burns at its touch.

“Dexter’s nadlies, you’re going to get it!” shouts Horbin, and invokes a _holy aura_ around himself and Jezebel.

Amnor, meanwhile, has put our heroes completely on the defensive and now casts another spell, which, unfortunately, turns out to be a _wall of force_ separating the party.  He follows this up with an attempt to _disintegrate_ Kagera, which leaves the monk very badly wounded.  She springs away and gulps down a potion even while Horbin uses a _miracle_ to _disintegrate_ the Bile Lord’s _wall of force_, just in time to get caught in a freezing cone of frigid air.  Ice crystals form on the wall, floor and ceiling as cold slashes out.

Sybele whips out her great big bow, fires at the Bile Lord, and manages to wound him while Horbin puffs up with _righteous might._  Then another _wall of force_ cuts our heroes off again, but it lasts an even shorter time than the first one as Sybele uses her psionics to _disintegrate_ it.  Then she launches more arrows at Amnor.

As Amnor tries to cast another deadly spell, Horbin strikes.  He was waiting for just such a thing, and his blow interrupts the Bile Lord.  And then, suddenly, Thrush reappears, having finally found his way out of the _maze_ that Amnor had consigned him to.  

Suddenly things aren’t looking so good for the Bile Lord Amnor.  He sneers, but there’s a combination of fury and fear on his face.  Oh yeah, baby, we gonna kill you again, that’s what the look on his face is telling our heroes.

Horbin and Thrush press Amnor together.  He pulls out and quaffs a potion, and his wounds are healing with tremendous speed, but he _just can’t keep up_ with the damage our heroes are dealing to him.**

“Die, you bastard!” Thrush shouts, hacking brutally into the Bile Lord’s arm and leg.  “Die and stay dead!!”  Amnor staggers under the assault, and then Kagera leaps in with a kick and his neck snaps.  The Bile Lord sags to the ground.  As quickly as they can, our heroes burn his body (minus loot, of course), along with the regenerating creatures.

“Well,” says Horbin afterward, “now we know for sure that they can bring each other back.”

“I thought Orbius said they didn’t have a cleric?” inquires Jezebel.

Horbin shrugs.  “Maybe he was wrong, or maybe they have another way...”  He trails off.  “Let’s just find them and finish this.”

A quick look at Amnor’s loot reveals bracers, a belt, a mask and a vial.  Everything except the vial is magic.  The vial turns out to be full of bile.  With a shrug, Angelfire puts it into her belt pouch, just in case.

But a search of the level reveals no sign of any other inhabitants.  Thrush knows the level well from his time as First Servant of the Bile Lords; he leads the group, from the initial chamber the teleporter led them to, down each hallway in turn.  The first- leading west- leads to the chambers of the various servants of the Bile Lords.  “But I think we’ve killed them all,” Thrush comments.

“As we’ve just seen, that may or may not matter,” Sybele points out.

“Crap, you’re right,” Thrush grumbles.  

But none of the servants’ quarters show any sign of having been used recently.  

North is the chamber the stirges came from, along with the forms of various creatures imprisoned in cages, mostly outsiders.  But this direction leads nowhere else, and there are no enemies to strike down there.

South is the direction of the Bile Lords’ chambers, which are empty and do not appear in recent use with a single exception.  That, they presume, was Amnor’s room- though even Thrush isn’t sure.  The only thing they find in there is a flask, which, when uncorked, proves to hold bile.

“These guys are disgusting,” complains Jezebel.

East leads to a rougher area of natural caves.  A year or so ago, when the party came here before, these were full of bile-infected creatures that they cleared out.  Now it seems as though there’s nothing left here either, although there are still deep pools of bile in some places.  Also in the eastern section of the level is the large chamber that had previously held the Crux Crystal that kept the bile running from the mountain and, seemingly, had maintained the anti-teleportation and divination aspects of the mountain.  Sybele half expects to see the Crystal restored; but it is as shattered as ever, thousands of tiny pieces everywhere.  

 “Where the hell are they?” muses Horbin.  

“I guess it’s time to search the whole place for secret doors,” Drelvin suggests with a wry grin.  “We elves are good at that, you know.”

“Maybe not,” says Jezebel, peering intently into space in the middle of the chamber.

”What is it?” Sybele asks.  

“Well, I’ve got a _detect magic_ going- I thought maybe there’d be a residue from the crystal or something...”  Even as she speaks, Horbin is casting a _detect magic_ of his own.  “But it’s not a residue, there’s an _effect_ hanging there in space.”  She pauses and looks around at everyone significantly.  “I think it’s a portal.”


_*Next Time:*_ The most shocking events of the entire campaign to date!

*Two breath weapons, each dealing 10d12 hp of acid damage.  Pretty much everyone was caught in both of them.  Ouch!

**Fast healing 20, folks.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Huzzah! Glad to hear it! Most shocking event so far?

Just how bad was the player reaction?


----------



## the Jester

*The Gruesome Wedding*

_*7:45 p.m., 9/30/368 O.L.G., the Halls of Healing, Var, Dorhaus*_

Ten Buck Tom stops and looks east, shaken by sudden unease.

_Something terrible just happened,_ he thinks, and he doesn’t know why.  The altar boy talking to him trails off as his attention is obviously distracted.  After a moment, Tom smiles at the lad, realizing his rudeness, and apologizes.  _Must just be something in my head.  I’ve been jumpy ever since the Vestige.  I’m starting to see shadows everywhere._

***

_7:20 p.m., 9/30/368 O.L.G., in the room of the Crux Crystal in the inner sanctum of Bile Mountain_

This chamber, the very chamber our heroes are gathered within, was where it all ended when they assaulted Bile Mountain before.  It was here that they desperately fought to hold off the mithral golem while they hacked and hammered and cast spells at the Crux Crystal, the great gem that sustained the strange transformation of water to bile in the depths of the mountains.  It was here that Angelfire Mountain got its new name, as the adventurer Angelfire shattered the crystal to pieces and ended the horrible curse of bile on the northwestern arm of Pesh.

There, in mid-air, where the Crux Crystal once hung, is the portal that Jezebel has discerned.  Nobody can see it, but several of the others have already cast spells of detection in order to view it.  Those who can detect it see it hanging in midair.

“Let’s go,” Thrush says grimly.  “Let’s get this over with.”  His brow is sweaty; he is returning to face some very angry former masters- and the group has already seen that they can restore their dead to life.

Our heroes gather together, and Thrush moves boldly through the space in the air that Jezebel has indicated.  But nothing happens; he passes through the space holding the magical aura as if there were nothing there.

“It probably requires some sort of key to pass through,” Horbin muses.  “But what?”

Sybele snaps her fingers.  “I bet it’s the bile!  Remember, we found some when we searched- I’ll bet it was so he could get back through the portal.”

“That’s possible,” admits Horbin.  “Well, I’ve got that vial- let’s see.”  And he moves through the portal’s area- and vanishes!

“Uh-oh,” groans Thrush.

Jezebel throws herself through after Horbin, but to no avail.  “I thought it might open the door, but it only opened for him!”  

“Didn’t the Bile Lord himself have a vial of it, too?” Drelvin asks.

“Yes.”  Angelfire has pulled the other vial from her pouch.  She turns and rushes towards the portal.  

“Wait!” yells Sybele.  “Give some to us!”  But Angelfire rushes heedlessly through the portal.  Londo gives an inarticulate cry as she vanishes and he hurls himself after her, passing through the air and going nowhere at all.  

“Oh, crap,” Drelvin groans.  “We’d better get some bile, and _fast._  Who knows what’s on the other side!”

“Not only that,” Jezebel adds, “the portal _could be_ one-way.”

***

_7:21 p.m., The Wedding Ground, the Bile King’s Demiplane_

Amnor has not returned, and now the wedding party is one short.  The Bile King is most displeased.  He wrings his yellowed hands together and glances at his beautiful Queen of Guts, resplendent in her white wedding dress (though, truth to tell, it is starting to stain in the belly rather quickly, but that is all part of her beauty).  He cannot have an inferior wedding; every detail must be perfect.  

His demiplane is shaped like a sickle, with the wedding ground at the one end.  He glances at the path and considers.  If the interlopers have slain Amnor again they may find their way here.  He feels a mild, acrid annoyance at the thought- but he could at least fill up his wedding party.

***

_7:23 p.m., the inner sanctum of Bile Mountain_

Our heroes rush towards one of the nearby caves that they earlier searched.  It has a significant pool of bile in it- and as they move towards it, something stirs.  

This pool is where Alcar, the Angel of Food, died.  It is here that they recovered his mechanical leg.  And deep in this pool lurks a terrible creature, mutated by the stinking, cloying bile all around it; a creature of such horrendous potential that the Bile King himself took interest, and wrought changes in it, in order that it might serve as a warden of the key to his secret dimension.  Call it Alcar’s revenge, if you will; but as the great monstrosity rises up from its pool, almost everyone is clustered together and virtually everyone screeches to a gaping momentary halt.

It kills most of them.

The party manages to land a few quick shots.  Most of them remain, sadly, in a small cluster, firing missiles.  Thrush flies forward to engage it as Jezebel moves to the side, away from the group.  Then-

The creature is like some terrible mix of crustacean and insect, sporting tremendous claws and four horrifying heads that seem to writhe with tentacles.  Its mottled, armored carapace is swollen angrily and cracks leak out foam and bile.  Its shell is spiny and wicked-looking. 

All four heads spit bile in an explosive mass right where our heroes are clustered.  Agonized screams ring out, and when it’s over only Thrush and Jezebel, neither of whom were caught, are standing.  With a shock, Thrush realizes, _This thing just killed _everyone.

_*Next Time:*_ Can things get worse?  You bet they can!!


----------



## Cheiromancer

Yikes!!!

What was that thing!?

Can our heroes recover?  Horbin the Holy and Angelfire are beyond the portal- and splitting the party is maybe not such a good idea... can Thrush and Jezebel recover the bodies/equipment of the fallen?  Or do they die too?

Man.  This is awful!

More please.


----------



## Knightfall

Whoa, that is NOT good. Could this be the end? Can't wait for more! - KF72


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

You have a wonderful way of ending on a cliff hanger, you know that?


----------



## the Jester

*The Gruesome Wedding, pt. 2*

_*7:22 p.m., 9/30/368 O.L.G., the Bile King’s Demiplane*_

Horbin stumbles as he catches his footing on the far side of the portal.  He sees four fat walking corpses start moving towards them, slavering and gnashing their teeth.  Their jaws seem unhinged.

Horbin the MFKG Holy hesitates not even an instant.  He lays a _protection from acid_ on himself, then casts a quickened _searing light_ at the nearest creature, burning its flabby chest. 

“SSSOO HUNGRY,” it moans, and the four of them rush forward to devour him.

Horbin channels the sacred might of Dexter, trying to turn these monstrosities back- but to no avail.  He sets his stance, hefts his shield and braces himself-

Then Angelfire is there, slashing and hacking.  The nearest undead creature staggers and turns to flee.  Angelfire slices it viciously across the back, but it just keeps going, running out of sight.  

Then the other three are on our heroes, keeping them rather busy.  They fall upon Angelfire.

The jaws of the terrible monsters are able to open wide enough to bite a man in half.  Angel blocks several bites, but several more penetrate her defenses.  Still, she stands firm, screening Horbin so that he can unleash more of Dexter’s might in the form of a _flame strike_ that burns all three remaining monsters.  Angelfire slices through the skull of one of them and cleaves onto the next nearest.  A moment more and our heroes have defeated the remaining undead. 

Breathing hard, Angelfire glances behind them.  The portal is faintly visible from this side.  

“Where are the others?” Horbin asks after a moment.

“They don’t have any bile,” Angel remarks.  

“Well, crap.  That can’t be good.”

How right they are.  

***

_*7:23 p.m., the Inner Sanctum of Bile Mountain*_

“Thrush, no!  Run!” screams Jezebel as she blasts out with a maximized _scorching ray._  She’s moving backwards rapidly, as rapidly as she can while still keeping the horrible chuul in range of her spells.

But Thrush does not heed her.  Roaring in rage, he charges forward and hacks at the monster with all his might, dealing it a tremendous wound.  The four-headed monstrosity hisses loudly and strikes out, and though he parries its first claw, the second tears at him.

Biting her lip in fear, with only a glance to her mother’s corpse, Jezebel casts another maximized _scorching ray_.  Her pulse quickens as she sees her would-be stepfather slash it again and again, inflicting grievous damage on it.  And then it catches him in first one claw and then the other; and as it squeezes him in both, he screams one final time before it tears him in two.

“NOOOOOO!!!!” the half-dragon shrieks, and she fires another _scorching ray_ and flees.  But she can hear it pursuing her inexorably, and as it slays her, her last thought is _Orbius- where are you?_

***

_*7:25 p.m., the Inner Sanctum of Bile Mountain*_

Angelfire and Horbin emerge from the portal back in the Crux Crystal room.  They are greeted by a grisly sight: the terrible four-headed lobster-thing devouring Jezebel’s body.

In an instant Angel is upon it.  She deals a telling blow to it, but its wounds have begun to heal already.  It turns and tears at her to incredible effect, forcing Angelfire to retreat for one of the few times in her life.*  As it pursues her she _timeslips_ and vanishes, leaving Horbin, cursing, on his own against the monster.  As it lumbers towards him, it shrugs off a _destruction,_ and Horbin takes a deep breath and readies his mace.

_Where are the others?_ he wonders desperately, and shouts, “Hey!  There’s trouble over here, if anyone can hear me!”


_*Next Time:*_ The conclusion!  Gutlings, Bile Lords, the King of Bile... and the Queen of Guts!!!


*We’re talking, according to the notes from this session, 248 hp of damage in one round.


----------



## the Jester

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> Yikes!!!
> 
> What was that thing!?




Go to my no-player lookee thread in RG.


----------



## Cheiromancer

the Jester said:
			
		

> _Next Time:_ The conclusion! Gutlings, Bile Lords, the King of Bile... and the Queen of Guts!!!




When you say "conclusion" you don't mean "the END," do you?   



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> Go to my no-player lookee thread in RG.




I had been keeping a close eye on the Rogue's Gallery thread- I knew you would post the stats there.  But thanks for the pointer.

Incidentally, I want to thank you for gracing us with your frequent updates.  Of all my favorite story hours, only yours has been updated at all recently.  For the others, the drought has lasted for months. 

So keep up the good work!


----------



## the Jester

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> Incidentally, I want to thank you for gracing us with your frequent updates.  Of all my favorite story hours, only yours has been updated at all recently.  For the others, the drought has lasted for months.




Hey, thanks Cheironmancer!  You know, whenever I start to slack off on the updating, it's _feedback_ that really motivates me to get back to it.  The more people comment the more prone I am to update frequently, especially when I get to the 'tricky' stuff (i.e. stuff that's especially hard to write, complex and/or difficult to remember, etc).  

Thanks again!


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

In that case, please update!
I really love reading this Story Hour


----------



## the Jester

*The Gruesome Wedding, pt. 3 (Conclusion)*



			
				Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> In that case, please update!
> I really love reading this Story Hour




Thanks! 

Here you go, but remember- you asked for it!

***

_*7:23 p.m., 9/30/368 O.L.G., the Bile King’s Demiplane*_

The corpulent creature shambles at a full run into the wedding ground, then halts.  The Bile King, his soon-to-be Queen, the other Bile Lords and the Queen’s gutlings- all are in attendance.  A sacred moment is approaching.  The priest is ready to perform the ceremony.  To interrupt at this moment is inadvisable, for anything less than an incredible occurrence.

Someone has _penetrated into the demiplane._

The Bile King draws himself up to his full height.  The white-hot fires of anger are burning in him now.  To interrupt, _now,_ at his very _wedding!_  This affront cannot be allowed to stand- no, to allow that would be to show a callow disregard for his love.  For the Queen of Guts.

The King of Bile strides forward, the single word, “Come.” exiting his lips.  The Bile Lords surge to their feet after him, shocked beyond words.  

_How long has it been,_ Chemnu the Bile Lord thinks gleefully, _since the King has struck his enemies personally?_

To the surprise- and, to a certain extent, consternation- of the Bile King and his Lords, the Queen of Guts and her gutlings silently rise and follow them out.

***

_*7:25 p.m., the Inner Sanctum of Bile Mountain*_

The terrible four-headed chuul makes a horrifyingly satisfied-sounding roar as its great pincers tear at Horbin, grabbing him and squeezing him severely.*  The cleric struggles mightily to break free, but to no avail; it’s too strong, even with his many magical enhancements.  “Hey!” he screams at the top of his lungs.  “A little help here!”

But nobody hears.  

Horbin gasps as the blood pours down his body.  The chuul holds him with one claw and tears at him with the other, and he screams again as it savages his chest, popping ribs and crushing a lung.  Blood pours from Horbin’s mouth.**

Desperately, he struggles to tear out of the thing’s grasp, and since it is only clutching him in one of its pincers, he manages to wriggle free, leaving a lot of body parts behind.  He coughs and a great spasm of pain runs through him.  _I can’t take another one of those,_ he thinks woozily.  _Can barely stand..._  He bares his teeth in a glare of concentration and casts defensively, _mass healing_ himself.  To his surprise, not all of his wounds heal.

_There’s nobody else left,_ he realizes with a shock as he calls out again.  _They’re all down, captured or worse._  Grimly, he braces himself for another assault-

And then Angelfire appears, blurring in from out of time, and her falchion is everywhere.  She had virtually no time to prepare for this fight, so she simply rushes into it with a _psionic lion’s charge,_ dealing a series of tremendous, punishing blows to it.  Her falchion tears great chunks from it, and she splits it between its two central heads almost to the midsection.  The monster gives a high-pitched shriek and collapses, dead.

Horbin and Angelfire look at each other.

“Holy crap,” Horbin says after a moment.  “I think the others are dead.”  He glances over at the meager remains of Jezebel.  

Angelfire cries out, “Londo!”  But there is no answer.

***

_*7:27 p.m., 9/30/368 O.L.G., the Bile King’s Demiplane*_

The remains of the three famine spirits that Angel and Horbin killed lay in all their gruesome glory.  The remaining famine spirit devours one of the corpses in but a pair of bites, then guiltily rushes over to attend its master.

“Tamult,” the King of Bile says, and the Bile Lord Tamult falls quaking to one knee before him.

“My King!” he cries, head bowed, his voice betraying naked fear... as is only proper.

“Bring them,” the King grates, gesturing at the portal.  The Bile Lord nods eagerly, rising and turning towards the portal.

The Queen of Guts makes no sound, but a gutling detaches from her retinue to accompany the Bile Lord on his mission.

***

_*7:26 p.m., the Inner Sanctum of Bile Mountain*_

Grimly, the two take stock of their situation.  Horbin is grimly angry. _Why do I have to get stuck with Angelfire, of all people?_ he wonders with a silent groan.  

”What do we do now?” he wonders aloud.  

“Well,” Angelfire says, and stops.  

Their options, here in the inner sanctum of Bile Mountain, where they are cut off from teleportation and plane shifting magic, are sorely limited.  Quickly, they discuss things.  Horbin points out, “My _mass heal_ should have fully restored me, but it didn’t.  Something’s wrong.  I think it’s a type of terrible wound that requires a sanctified area in order to heal.”

“Not much of that here,” remarks Angelfire idly.

Horbin sighs gustily.  “Well-“

Then, suddenly, through the portal step a Bile Lord and a gutling.

The gutling looks like a giant with deep grey, almost black, skin.  His hair is a stark white that contrasts dramatically with his dark skin.  He stands about twenty feet tall- so tall that Horbin and Angelfire stand only thigh-high to him.  Worse yet, his intestines are hanging in gruesome loops from his belly.  And even worse yet, as our two surviving heroes watch in horror, the ropey guts begin twitching and moving on their own.

Before Angelfire or Horbin have a chance to even move, Tamult, instantly recognizing them, unleashes a _horrid wilting._  The magic desiccates the two heroes, draining their bodies of moisture and vitality.  Their mouths go dry as dust, their eyes grow sore and itchy with dehydration.  Both of them give out shouts of pain.

_This is bad!_ Horbin thinks.  He fires a _sunbeam,_ catching the Bile Lord square in the chest and staggering him for a moment.  Then he turns to see how Angelfire’s doing-

Not well at all, really.

She scored but a single blow on the gutling before its intestines rose up and lashed out, entangling Angel in a web of dripping flesh.  She gives a grunt of displeasure as several loops go around her throat.  She grasps them to break free-

But then Tamult speaks a Word of Power, and suddenly Angel is reeling, unable to think or act or resist, and the loops tighten on her throat.  

Gagging on the stench of the Bile Lord, Horbin assesses the situation.  He has an idea as to an escape route, but it’s only an idea.  It might work... it _might._ 

But he can’t leave Angel to die, even if she just about left him to die just minutes before.  Even if she almost let Faericles kill them all in Moil.  _Even if she is an evil bitch,_ Horbin thinks wryly, and hurls another _sunbeam_, this time at the gutling.  

_ZARK!!_

The light of Dexter is too mighty for the gutling to resist.  In a howl of pain it is blasted apart, and Angelfire collapses to the ground.

Tamult leaps back through the portal. 

“Oh, man, this is _not good,_” Horbin moans.  He _heals_ Angelfire, bringing her out of the stun, and she scrambles to pick up her two falchions that the dropped when the _power word stun_ took effect on her.  

Horbin tries desperately to _gate_ in a solar, but curses when it fails.  _I _knew_ that wouldn’t work here,_ he groans in his mind.  _Damn it!_

Then two more Bile Lords and another gutling appear through the portal.  One of the Bile Lords splits Horbin and Angelfire with a _wall of force,_ and then the gutling lurches forward, charging at Angelfire.  But she slips aside, deftly avoiding his attack, and then _timeslips_ and vanishes.***

“Oh, you _bitch!_” Horbin cries, furious. 

And then there’s no time to complain.  He blasts another _sunray_ forward, but it sprays uselessly off of the _wall of force._  Then the gutling gestures and _darkness_ falls over the battle.

_Not good at all!_ Horbin thinks wildly, and invokes another _miracle,_ disintegrating the _wall of force._  Not because he wants to fight the overwhelming odds before him; because he _doesn’t._

He rushes forward for the portal, but ropes of intestines wrap around him, squeezing an immobilizing him.  The gutling’s deadly intestines bludgeon and squeeze, and Horbin struggles mightily to escape; but when Tamult gloatingly speaks another _power word stun,_ it becomes clear that the party’s over for him.  He can only stand the tender embrace of the gutling for another dozen seconds or so before he’s dead- less if the thing pounds on him with its huge morningstar as well.

Then Angelfire reappears next to the Bile Lords. 

“Wait!” she cries.  “We don’t have to fight!  You’ve demonstrated your power; we can respect that.  Maybe we can do something for you...”

But the gutling finishes Horbin with a terrible strength, and Tamult and Zurtneg, the two Bile Lords, sneer at Angelfire.  Tamult _dominates_ her- the Coilite’s will cannot withstand the crushing power of the Bile Lord- and he tells her to sheath her swords.

And she obeys.

“Come,” Tamult growls, “we have a wedding to attend.”

***

_*7:30 p.m., 9/30/368 O.L.G., the Bile King’s Demiplane*_

The gruesome wedding is a sight to be seen, if you can stomach it.  If you’re not of an iron constitution, you probably wouldn’t want to look.

The hideous gutlings, a few flies buzzing around them (certainly not native to the demiplane) do nothing to make the wedding pretty.  Nor do the Bile Lords, with their clouds of nauseating vapor.  Angelfire is beautiful among them.  She stands out like a sore thumb.

The poor Galadorian cleric that has been pressed into service to perform the ceremony- _What a triumph, to have made Horbin do it!_ the Bile King thinks idly- is clearly terrified, but too frightened to resist.  It is obvious that she wisely doubts whether she’s going to walk away from the ceremony.

But she performs it as best she can.  She certainly reads the proper passages from the Galadron, and she even loses the quaver in her voice about halfway through.  Immediately afterwards, of course, the Bile Lords and their King order Angelfire to kill the priest, which she gladly does. 

Then they tell her to stand in the center of a small area.  The gutlings and the Queen of Guts herself surround Angelfire.

“What’s going on?” she asks idly, yawning.

And they tear her to pieces.



_*Next Time:*_ That’s right, it was a TPK!!!  Will there be more updates in this thread?  YES!  Next time we’ll catch up with a few npcs and see what we see... 


*According to my notes, Horbin the MFKG Holy took 117 hp in this round alone. 

**Ouch!  Another 107 hp.

***_Timeslip_ is a Time domain spell imc.  Angelfire had it prepared in multiple domain slots.


----------



## Brain

Hi there.  I'm a new player in The Jester's games (Timothy in the Halfling one) and this is the session where I first showed up to watch his game to see what it was all about and such.  I got to witness the TPK as my first introduction to their group, and it was quite a session.  I knew things were heading awry once the group got split up, but I had no idea how awry


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Holy c&*p!

I never thought this party would be hit by a TPK- so many powerful players with so many skills. It must have been an awesomely nerve-wracking session... especially for Horbin!

Fantastic.


----------



## Greybar

Wow.  The ultimate "split up the party and die" lesson.

john


----------



## Cheiromancer

As one of my players would say,

Yay!  New Characters!


----------



## omrob

*er...croak*

Yup.

Now time to bust out my backup 

18th level Pixie Rogue/Jester

As a matter of fact - all our new characters are pixies!


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Where is the Angel of Adventure when you need him?*

Well, my character Lester wasn't there, and he would be very pissed to hear about how the party died.  Its just so . . .  Alcarish.  

(BTW, Alcar was the Angel of Food that died by the same hand, . . . er, claw?, . . . of the monster that killed the party.  And, yes, it got him because he split from the party.)

Anyway, as I mentioned in another Jester Story Hour, Jester LOVES killing his PCs.  It is a special joy of his and he probably still gets a RBDM smile everytime he thinks about this TPK.

To my dead PC friends, I tip my 40 oz of 4d6s out onto a new character sheet for you.


----------



## Knightfall

I have a suggestion... Ghostwalk anyone?

Anyway, I'm sad to see such epic characters bite the dust. Especially, Angelfire and Horbin. Kind of fitting they fought their last fight together.

Later,

KF72


----------



## the Jester

*After the TPK*

Let’s take a quick look at some of the other stuff that is going on in the world, especially things involving our (deceased) heroes. 

Lester and Orbius, of course, are minding the Temple of Elemental Good.  Though they think of their old friends often, they are quite busy enough and quite aware that, once in the upper levels of Bile Mountain, they probably won’t be able to get in touch for a while.  So, while concerned, they aren’t too worried. 

Plus, they have their own concerns.*

War looms for months.  Our heroes die in the fall; it’s too late for things to get started before the winter season, which is difficult and unpleasant to campaign in.  So things wait until spring before exploding into conflict.  The forces of Law, represented primarily by Forinthia on the material plane, strike out.  Pesh is occupied already; what occurs there is a simple tightening of Imperial authority, but though the cities are caught in a strong fist, the countryside remains a refuge for the rebellious and for anti-Forinthian loyalists.

An expedition to Forinthia by Prayzose nearly leads to disaster.  Forinthia is being consumed in civil war as the ancient Three Kingdoms of Forinthia threaten to break apart forever.  All the treaties and ties of blood and loyalty built up over centuries seem to have been tossed aside almost instantly.  _How can this be?_ wonders Prayzose, and when he bends his divinations to the task he gets his answer: an ancestral relic, the Sword of the South King, has been stolen from his tomb, and a strong curse has fallen upon the land: until it is restored, the lands shall not be united. 

Emperor Prayzose is most displeased.  He tries the diplomatic route, but to his surprise none of the three Kings are willing to surrender their authority.  They arrest him, and he feels compelled to surrender to them, hoping to sway them in court.  He is dismayed when they show no signs of actually trying him, and in fact attempt to keep him prisoner indefinitely.

They should know better.

Prayzose, Scion of Dexter, High Priest of the Light, Emperor of Forinthia, is not to be trifled with.  To their regret, several individuals learn that on that spring day.  But in the end Prayzose leaves without Forinthia, and the Three Kings remain.  He cannot simply execute them under the circumstances; they are right.  The loss of the Sword of the South King invalidates many arrangements.

Prayzose certainly doesn’t have time to go off to look for it, despite its importance; he sends out a _greater planar ally_ and hires several groups of adventurers (through intermediaries, of course), then sighs and goes about the business of war.

On a fateful day in the early summer a terrible battle occurs when a huge wing of the Chaos Fleet attacks a Forinthian fleet southwest of Gorel.  The battle is huge and fierce, with the Chaos side employing a terrible wing of flying and swimming demons.  This is an affront that the Forinthians cannot stomach, and when they shatter the naval formation the Fleet of the Light pursues as the Chaos ships flee.  Unfortunately it turns out to be a trap; the Chaos fleet leads their pursuers into a killing zone surrounded by Delphinate wizards specializing in long range attack spells.  

Hundreds of ships sink or burn to their waterline that day, but the effort costs the Delphinate terrifically, for despite early success, it only takes a few lucky arrows to kill one of the wizards, and though the wizards have long range attacks, a few of the ships of the Forinthian line have clerics able to summon powerful elementals to attack the wizards.  When it becomes clear that the Delphinate is spending its best, most powerful wizards- an irreplaceable resource- the wizards fall back, usually by _teleporting_ away.

This incredible battle is later considered a victory by the Forinthians, despite the loss of almost 10,000 lives and one hundred and ninety ships, for the Delphinate once again mostly withdrew from the conflict.  They would not try such a costly maneuver again, and, reasoned the forces of Law, it would take years to build up such a powerful pool of wizards again.  Even when they did, hopefully the foolish wizards had learned their lesson.

Indeed they had.  A great debate raged in the Delphinate as a result of the battle, but the Delphin made the decision on how to proceed.

“We cannot risk such a travesty again.  Even though we ourselves lost only 45 wizards, sixteen of them were among the Twenty.**  Eight of those will return via _clone,_ but almost half of our most powerful forces have been snuffed out.”  He paused.  The Mask of the Delphin hid his face.  “We will not risk such a travesty again,” he repeats.  “But at the same time, we dare not back out now, for our allies have suffered much more than we have, and to let them fall is to invite attack.  We dare not let them be destroyed.”

His solution, it is generally agreed, is brilliant.  

They will be called the Warforged.

Meanwhile another fleet of Law, this one headed by Dekrasode, rolls across the waves to lay siege to Tirchond.   The blue dragon once called Tovan Kinslayer, Emperor of Wotan, smiles; he wears that human shape today, though he goes by his real name now.  He thirsts for conquest, for the thrill of destroying petty elven and dwarven habitats.  He longs to taste elven flesh again; it’s been quite a while.  

When the fleet crashes ashore, the battle for the Shining City is fierce and supernatural.  Spells rain from the elves of the Silver College, led by Estelias, Zeebo, Cicero and others; and devils, formians and dragonkin rush up the streets of the Shining City like baby crabs scuttling for the sea.  It’s another bloodbath, and in only a few hours Estelias sounds the retreat. 

“We can win!” snarls Vulker Hammerhead, Thane of the Hammerhead Halls.  The head of his hammer is bloody.

“Too many of us our dying, Thane,” Estelias says gravely.  “Both our peoples breed slow.  And though they can only land a few vessels at a time, they have hundreds of ships to land before they’re through.  We cannot win through to take the docks and let them take the College.”  She shakes her head.  “No, we need to fall back and escape.  Either take the Egg with us somehow or destroy it.”

And the Shining City fell, yet again, to Forinthia.  The battle was terrible; the local Belmax complex caught fire during the battle and exploded in a humungous conflagration that lit buildings on fire for a block in every direction.  In the end the huge fire caused destroyed nearly a quarter of the city, including almost all of the diplomatic quarters in the city (on Ambassador’s Row) and the zoo.

On Dorhaus, the Tiger Empress’ triumphant return lent impetus to the enervated campaign to overtake Malford’s burgeoning empire on the west side of Dorhaus.  The Emperor lent her advisers, clerics and troops; she began sewing the seeds of organization and preparing to fight for what she felt was rightfully hers- especially the rich Barony of Goldstone, which Malford had clear, perpetual designs on.

Malford, worried by all the developments he could see, went on a quest into the forests of Ketzia to find his old friend the King of Ketzia.  When he returned, months later, there was a streak of amber-green in his otherwise white hair and he bore a shirt of leaves.  When his queen gently questioned him the next day about his journey, he seemed preoccupied.  “I saw... old friends.  One I expected to, and one I did not.”  He paused, looked at a loss for words.  “He... he sacrificed himself for Dorhaus once, long ago.  We thought he was gone forever...”  Malford trails off.  

_The Mantle of Gaea,_ he thinks in wonder.

“I made a deal with the fae, and with the druids,” he finally says, “and, in a way, with the plants.”

Law clamped down everywhere it could.  Everyone would live _by the rules._

_*Next Time:*_ That’s right, there’s a next time yet!  We still need to catch up with Ten Buck Tom!  


*They’re in a play-by-post here on ENWorld in the Playing the Game forum.
**The Twenty are the twenty most powerful spellcasters of the Delphinate.  They are legally obligated to answer if the Delphinate has need of their power.


----------



## Droid101

Whew.  Read the stuff leading up to and including the TPK.  Pretty nasty.  Sometimes, you gotta realize when you're in over your head.  Cool stuff!


----------



## Knightfall

Warforged! Jester, what an awsome way to work in a great new race. Can't wait to see where this goes next.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Great stuff all round.

One of things that really impresses me in this story hour (and the campaign) was how skillfully outside events are worked in, not distracting from the players but adding to it.


----------



## Technik4

Dang, the party is brought low. Despite the usual large number of characters, losing Lester and Orbius was pretty huge, though the group didn't act like it (?). Too bad for Horbin the MFKNG Holy.

There was one inconsistency where they are talking about how they teleported all around one of the levels (and it was therefore largely unexplored), and then numerous times later it is said you can't teleport in Bile (I assume it will be Bile once again) Mountain.

Too bad I missed the pbp call, unfortunately I have been without internet for a very long time. Perhaps I can be on a backup list or something? Anyway, I still have the halfling thread to get caught up on.

Great stuff (as always)!

Technik


----------



## the Jester

Hey, it's great to see you back Technik!

As to the teleporting thing- iirc, the passage you're referring to relates to their original explorations of Bile Mountain, when only the top levels were sealed.  

Nowadays the sealing seems to cover a larger area...


----------



## Technik4

Good to be back. I'm out of the military (finally) and attending college so I definitely have some time on my hands. I'm also relocated to the West Suburbs of Chicago (Glen Ellyn specifically) although I can't for the life of me remember where you are located  Anyway, I came up with an interesting character after finding all your Cydra stuff on my computer (prcs, feats, and spells).

I'll email it to you later.

Technik


----------



## the Jester

_*Continuing to look in on npcs and others related to our (deceased) heroes... *_


In the city of Var, at Horbin’s Halls of Healings, Ten Buck Tom paces back and forth.

He is finally starting to worry about Horbin.

_I knew he’d probably be cut off from me in Bile Mountain,_ the dead cleric’s loyal cohort thinks to himself.  _But I didn’t expect him to be away so long without any word.  I hope he’s all right._

Ten Buck Tom has already tried all his divinations, tried everything he can think of.  He can learn nothing about the party’s fate.  Of course, it must be because of Bile Mountain’s terrible enchantments.  They can neither teleport into nor summon within nor divine anything about the uppermost levels of Bile Mountain.

_It’s been so long,_ Ten Buck Tom muses, and bites his lip.  

He could...

He stops the thought.  Not yet.  Not unless he’s absolutely _certain_ that Horbin’s dead.

Over the weeks Ten Buck Tom agonizes.  Sometimes he starts searching through Horbin’s empty chambers as if he is looking for something, but he always stops himself immediately, telling himself that he isn’t sure yet.  A terrible fear that his friend is dead falls upon Tom, and he drinks himself into a stupor trying to drive the idea from his head. 

Surely not. 

Looking in on him from afar when it can’t scry the other members of the party (sadly, they’re all dead), one of the _simulacra_ of Marius sees Ten Buck Tom alone, pacing and obviously worried.  _Shape changing_ into a half-elf, this particular Marius _teleports_ to just outside of Var and then proceeds within the town, seeking information.  His discrete inquiries rapidly yield success, and the _simulacrum_ ascertains that Ten Buck Tom has been attempting to gather any information that he can about the fate of his friends.  A few choice divinations later the _simulacrum_ is filled in on as much as Ten Buck Tom is, and he considers his options.

_Clearly, the adventurers are out of reach for now, whether dead or so far beyond our plane that they are impossible to contact.  Perhaps this is a golden opportunity._

The Marius pauses, contemplating.  It is more ambitious than its originator, more full of arrogance than even the real Marius could ever hope to be.  And it wants to be the real one- it wants to ride at the head of the Armies of Law.  It wants regiments of devils, backed up by temporal dimensionals and other creatures of Time, at its beck and call.  The real Marius- Marius the Chronomancer- stands in its way.

It is time to choose its course, the _simulacrum_ knows. 

“I,” it breathes, “am Marius the Worthy.”

Over the next few months it sets Ten Buck Tom up and guides him like a weapon.  It drops hints and clues, a trail of bread crumbs that seem at first to offer hope that the party is alive.  By plucking an analogue of Horbin from another time frame, Marius the Worthy manages to leave even magical traces of the party.  And all the while, the trail leads inexorably to the real Marius.  And Ten Buck Tom’s anger grows, as winter turns to spring turns to summer.

Meanwhile, a powerful giant cleric begins a quest.  He is twisted and malformed; his arms are not right, and he is far uglier than an average otyugh.  His name is Fnogghi Chaos-Hand, and he has found a few scraps of prophecy that he quivers in joy about.

_Worms,_ he thinks with a spasm of dull joy.

At least one good thing comes from the death of our heroes.  When Pasha Amhari Ifroobil, would-be new Archomental of Elemental Evil Fire, seeks to hunt them down- he cannot.  His planned hunting expedition to the Material Plane is called off for lack of a worthy quarry, and the potential damage that a rampaging hunting party of powerful fire creatures could deal is avoided.  The Pasha decides, reluctantly, that his best interests are served by continuing his battle for the title of Elemental Prince of Evil on the plane of Fire.

By early in the year 370 of Our Lord Galador, certain things about the course of the Great War of Ethics have become obvious.  While several of our heroes have, in the past, claimed that it is a conflict fundamentally about nothing, Law shows its desire to conquer and overcome the lands held by Chaos.  Ironically, by spring, only a few places remain in the hands of Chaos (or out of the hands of Law): Malford’s efforts on Dorhaus have created a rapidly-reforested realm that is almost an expansion of Greater Ketzia, or Faerieland.  His hair has developed a faint green tint, and his already-brown skin has grown more woody-looking.  He spends less and less time in Var and more and more time wandering in search of some eldritch secret with which to guard his realm.  

Is it even really his any more?  How much of it does the Elf-King of Ketzia now own?

Forinthia itself, the center of all things, roils in civil war.  Until the blade of the last king of the South Kingdom is restored, Chaos will continue to effectively render Forinthia proper useless to Law.  They cannot keep troops there without a breakdown of discipline, hundreds of desertions adding forces to the armies of the Three Kings of Forinthia.

Pesh City is overwhelmed with Forinthian and orcish Valonian troops, keeping a firm hand on the mechanisms of trade, but outside of the city open, chaotic rebellions keep springing up.  Lawful forces find themselves scavenging and living off the land as much as they find themselves eating fresh grown produce and fresh caught fish.  Nobody wants to sell them food, and often the stores close when the troops head towards them.  Just as often those stores end up broken into and looted or even burned, but the Peshan state has always been Chaotic; to expect that to change now would be ridiculous. 

“Install a governor,” Prayzose orders.

By the middle of spring Ten Buck Tom has forged a coalition of several willing and powerful allies to oppose Marius the Chronomancer, and the _simulacrum_ that directed him is always grinning in the shadows.  This all changes, however, when the real Marius sends a (standard) _simulacrum_ before Ten Buck Tom and his allies.

“You’ve been had,” the _simulacrum_ says.  “Marius has _nothing_ to do with your friends’ misfortune, whatever happened to them.  He doesn’t know either.”

“Why should we believe you?” Ten Buck Tom demands.

“Because it would be _stupid_ of Marius to raise a hand against your friends.  We- that is, Marius and your friends- came to an understanding long ago.  And _Marius is a man of his word._”

No matter what else, Tom reflects, _that much_ is true.  He spends two sleepless nights debating his planned assault on Marius’ Citadel of Eternity, but calls it off.  He has been had, he admits bitterly; and because of it, more than a year has gone by.  He returns to the Halls of Healing with the aid of Arion the Archmage.

“Well,” Arion says, sipping at his flask, “let me know if you need anything, Tom.”  And he departs.

Ten Buck Tom goes up to Horbin’s room and takes a deep breath.

_This time,_ he thinks, _I’m _doing it.


_*Next Time:*_ Yes, there’s still at least one more update left in this thread.  Get ready for a big surprise!


----------



## Knightfall

I'm digging this TPK aftermath stuff almost as much as the story hour. Excellent work as always, J.

Cheers!

KF72

p.s. Time to turn on the TV and watch Making the Cut.


----------



## Sandain

Arg! I finally finished reading through ALL of your story hours and it ends..like this!


----------



## the Jester

_*The Prophecy of the Worms*_

	The worms will eat at the fabric of orders and old ones shall be overthrown while the changes roil the seas and lands.
	Lo, even the greatest ironies will occur, as great adversaries unite against unexpected powers from beyond their ken.
	The City will rise from the Sea, and though they are insects they are mighty.
	And the cockroaches spit for miles, and the worms must move underground.
	Yet still the Eggs hatched and all that entails, yet still the eggs hatched and all that entails.
	Young gods die that old gods may die.  All is change and uproar, and the worms come to herd it along.
	The Ancient Homeland will be reclaimed should they bring the grist to the mill.
	Cogs can twist asunder under the weight of their own perfect motion if worms are in the wheels.
	The coming of the Great Worm Xurkrischis from across the Great Distance will herald the rebirth of the hive, and they shall spread in a terrible blight.

***

“You’re joking,” Gnulgin Bald-Pate grunts.

“Not at all,” Fnogghi Chaos-Hand answers with a deformed grin.  The ear growing from his immense, tree-like neck twitches.  “I tell you, there is a prophecy.  The time has come.  I gather aid for a great calling.”

The two giant clerics stand, staring at each other, in silence that last for nearly ten minutes.  Finally, Gnulgin, the chief shaman of the Moon Marrow clan, nods decisively.  “You are wise, Fnogghi, and I will listen to what you say.”

The circle of hill giants surrounding the two relax.  Fnogghi relaxes too; this could have been the death of him.  He needs many assistants if he is to succeed, and there are few who follow his god.  But they need not follow his god- though that is ideal- they must merely be sympathetic enough join him.  The calling must serve _their_ purposes, as well.  Take Gnulgin; he follows Bleak, not Fnogghi’s god.  But they may work together; indeed, their gods are allies against Law, and the power that Fnogghi hopes to unleash will aid them all.

Although, Fnogghi admits to himself, the worms unleashed might not necessarily have any fondness for them.  They were very likely to be _extremely_ dangerous.  Such was the way of Chaos; there were no guarantees.  There was no way to be certain, ultimately, of _anything._  All one had to go on was _faith._

“Come,” Gnulgin rumbles.  “We will eat together, in my chamber, and we will talk, alone.”  Fnogghi nods, and the two giants walk into the great wooden structure that the hill giant clan dwells within.  Fnogghi has to squeeze his awkward body through the door, and his short leg, as always, nearly makes him stumble; but Gnulgin is as good as his, and this puts him in good spirits.

_What is the city?_ Fnogghi wonders suddenly, thinking of part of the prophecy.  

The two giants, once inside Gnulgin’s chamber, sit on chairs made of sturdy thick tree trunks.  The hill giant shaman studies Fnogghi for a long moment, then draws two casks of ale off of a shelf and hands one to Fnogghi.  “These come from some humans, in exchange for us not eating or enslaving them all,” he explains, giving a yellow grin.  “Drink up.” 

The two take long pulls of good beer.  They drink together, each gathering his thoughts, for a few moments.  Gnulgin likes silence, realizes Fnogghi.  He is wise enough to know that his mind is not quick.  He needs time to think it over.

“How many do you need?” Gnulgin finally asks, as he finishes his cask.  

“Twenty, all strong spellcasters,” Fnogghi replies.

“Why?”

“They contribute power to the calling.”

Gnulgin ponders a few moments more.  Then he states, “I have heard tales of spells... beyond normal levels of power.  Is this...?”

Fnogghi laughs.  “It is based on principles similar to those behind such things, but it is merely a powerful spell in its own right.  No, it is not as powerful as that: it is merely an ancient ritual of high, but comprehensible power.  But I am flattered that you think me capable of such a feat.  I am not that powerful, my friend!”

_Not yet,_ he thinks.

“How many do you have?” asks Gnulgin.  “How many have agreed to assist you?  And how ‘strong’ must they be?  I have an apprentice...”

“You yourself are powerful enough, but he is not.”

“You are certain?”

“Yes.”

Gnulgin ponders for a moment. 

“I already have Bjorn Snow-Wolf and Pjeji the Black,” Fnogghi says deliberately, knowing how much Gnulgin hates them.  “I have ten, already half.”

Gnulgin frowns.  “Why do you tell me this?  You know how I feel about them.”

“Will you be left out, Gnulgin?  When the glory comes for casting down our enemies, and both of our gods anoint their heroes, where will you be?”  Fnogghi places a deformed hand on Gnulgin’s shoulder.  “I offer you the chance to be a hero, to be remembered as much as, perhaps more than, Pjeji and the Wolf.  Will you come with me?  Or will you be left behind?”

Fnogghi knows damn well there is only one possible answer.

_Praise Na’Rat,_ he gloats.

***

Meanwhile, the Delphinate has acquired many new powerful wizards who can help replace the fallen.  The have come in bits and pieces until the fall of Tirchond, but since then there has been a river of Silver College-trained wizards of formidable power, most of them grey elves.  They have secret lore of their own to share, too; some of them are recruited to work on the Warforged Project, which is beginning to show considerable success.  They have almost developed a construct with true sentience, true life.

The empowered _simulacra_ hate it, of course.

It is a poke in the eye, a kick in the groin, a slap in the face to them.  Are _they_ not sentient constructs, in a fashion?  They are living spells, creatures constructed entirely from magic and inanimate stuff (snow)- and this idea that the warforged will be the ‘first’ true living construct rubs against them like salt against a raw wound.

As the forest on Dorhaus grows ever thicker, and his disputes with his house faeries become meaner and more vicious, Arion the Archmage also relocates to the Delphinate.  He sets to work building a prodigious fortress within which he will be invulnerable, combining the Delphinate’s work on magical architecture with his own specialized knowledge of force, using layered planes of force to craft an incredibly well-defended home.  He grows more puissant as he recovers from a ruin an ancient libram of magic knowledge.  Slowly, Arion feels his way into the types of magic that Gnulgin was talking about.  Gradually he becomes more confident, until he finally envisions a spell that will create the ultimate house guardians.

_I must become more powerful first,_ he thinks as he purchases some exceptionally potent and fresh hell weed from a night hag on Avernus.  

***

Horbin the MFKG Holy opens his eyes. 

“What...” he croaks.  The last thing he remembers- Angel, and the Bile Lords, and everyone was-

“Oh, Horbin,” weeps Ten Buck Tom, collapsing into an embrace of his friend.  “Thank Dexter.”  He shudders and looks Horbin in the eye.  “I feared that I would waste the elixir, but I was right- you were dead.”*


*Did anyone else remember that the party found an _elixir of true resurrection_ when they were traipsing through their _Return to the Tomb of Horrors?_  I sure didn’t, and I don’t think many of the players did either, but Bill- who plays Horbin, natch- did, and he mentioned it to me a few days after the tpk.  He had left Ten Buck Tom behind because he was ‘only’ 17th (?) level- and with Horbin at epic levels, 17th was just bait.  He’d also left the elixir behind in Horbin’s halls of healing in case he ever needed it for Horbin.

I asked him to keep its existence to himself for a while. 

We snuck this one up on them.  We’d played about 3-4 sessions of the halfling party before this game, and then- wham!  Bill’s foresight pays off.  I must confess, I was dismayed at the tpk, but I’m always willing to let them stand when they happen.  But to have one of the players reverse it on me like that was great! 



_*Next Time:*_ Well, that’s a switch!  Now what will Horbin do?


----------



## the Jester

Heh, double post.  Oops.  Slow boards.


----------



## Knightfall

Whoops, big double post. Gee, don't you hat that.


----------



## the Jester

*From the Ashes*

_*5/15/370 O.L.G., 4 p.m., Horbin’s room in the Halls of Healing, Var, Dorhaus*_

“Two years,” Horbin the MFKG Holy says in wonder.

He aches.  He is naked, save for a thin, moth-eaten robe that he has retrieved from his closet.  His thoughts are a blur.  

_He has died._

Shaking his head to clear it, he asks, “Why did you wait so long?  Didn’t the others tell you that I...”  He trails off.  

“None of the others came back either,” Ten Buck Tom moans.

Despair and fear fills Horbin.  _Dead,_ he remembers.  _Not just me.  All of us- we all died in Bile Mountain._  His fists clench.  _I can’t believe it.  We all died!  And now... can I bring them all back?  Do I have the money to purchase the diamonds?_

“I was tricked, too,” the bard adds.  “One of the Marii tried to trick me into attacking the real Marius.  If he hadn’t warned me, I probably would have destroyed myself against him.”  He hesitates.  “A lot has changed,” he adds grimly.

Over the next hour, Horbin gains a smattering of knowledge about the last couple of years.  The war has ground on, Malford is apparently somehow communing with the fey and is developing closer relationships with Ketzia, Marius is leading troops on northern Valonia... Chaos has a strong hold on a few strongholds, including Dorhaus, northern Valonia (the Great Redwood Forest), Forinthia itself and the Delphinate.  Elsewhere Law has tightened its fist.

When Horbin dresses in new priestly vestments and steps outside he is amazed.

“It’s so _green,_” he says, awed.  

Indeed, Var is no longer merely speckled with life.  Now trees thrive everywhere, as large as if they had been growing for decades or even, in some cases, centuries.  Ten Buck Tom explains that Malford’s negotiations with the fey and the druids have born some degree of figurative fruit.

The cleric’s thoughts turn to the problem of diamonds- 25,000 gold pieces in diamonds for each of his friends.  _How do I come up with such a huge amount of money?_  He mulls the problem over- at least the supply has probably renewed itself since the party bought all the available diamonds in the area.

“I would recommend the Delphinate,” Tom suggests.  “Many of your old allies are there now, including Estelias.”

Horbin nods.  “All right, that sounds like my best bet.  Thanks, Tom!”  He claps a hand on his cohort’s shoulder.  “You’ve really come through for me.”

***

_*5/16/370 O.L.G., 11 a.m.*_

“Horbin!”  Till grins and embraces his old friend.  “I’m so glad you’re alive!”

“Till,” Horbin murmurs happily.  “I’m glad you’re still alive, too!”

The two friends catch up on old times.  Till is a layman, but he is taking on more of the administrative functions of the church.  His talents lie not in the channeling of the holy energies of Dexter, but rather in the manipulation of numbers and the ordering of supplies.  

_We all do what we are made to do,_ Horbin tells himself, and burgeons with pride as Till relates all that he has accomplished for the Halls of Healing over the last several years.

But the important thing to Horbin is that Till is alive, free, and happy to see him.  Any burn of anger or resentment that he felt after his long imprisonment by Marius has faded.  

_Marius,_ thinks Horbin with a silent curse.  _One of these days we’re going to have to finish our business with each other._ 

***

_*5/18/370 O.L.G., 6 p.m.*_

Horbin fingers his new symbol of Dexter.  The clerics and clerks of the Halls of Healing are very glad to see that he has returned; several had left over the last months.  In fact, there are few Galadorians of any description left in Var.  They are not unwelcome, but many of the locals think of them as troublemakers and potential traitors.  The open society of Var has begun becoming insular and isolationist.  Horbin sighs unhappily.  Well, he’s certain Malford didn’t mean for this to happen; but he can’t control the way his people think, and even if he could he wouldn’t.  After all, that way lies the path of Law and oppression.

Dragging himself from his reverie, the cleric thinks, _It’s time to start trying to get things done.  I’ve taken a few days to settle in and find out what’s going on.  Now it’s time to act._  He casts a _sending_ to Estelias.

_Greetings, Estelias, it is I, Horbin the MFKG Holy.  May we meet?  If so, when?_

A few pulse beats later comes the reply: _Horbin, I will meet you tomorrow at dusk.  Leave yourself open to scrying._

Horbin takes a deep breath.  Another day he has to wait- but that’s fine.  What’s a day, after all, compared to almost two years?

Estelias in the Delphinate?  Bizarre.  Things have changed indeed.  

_I only hope she can help me get the diamonds I need,_ Horbin the Holy thinks.


_*Next Time:*_ How will Horbin pay for the diamonds he needs?


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Woo! Go Tom! Go Horbin! We can rebuild them! We have the technology!


----------



## Knightfall

Tallarn said:
			
		

> Woo! Go Tom! Go Horbin! We can rebuild them! We have the technology!




Funny! Nice one, Tallarn.

Glad to see Horbin back. I wonder, will he pay to get Angelfire and her blackguard cohort back? Hmm...


----------



## Droid101

Give them life!  I must see revenge...


----------



## the Jester

*The Price*

_*5/18/370 O.L.G., 6 p.m., the Halls of Healing, Var*_

Horbin sits alone in his room in the Halls of Healing.  Dusk is falling outside even now.  He reads through his Galadron, two large candles lit, as the light recedes.  

Horbin the MFKG Holy looks up.  He feels as though someone is watching him- in fact, someone probably is.  “Estelias,” he says aloud, and smiles.  “Please feel free to come to me or to bring me to you or whatever you want to do.  I would appreciate a chance to meet and talk.  My friends have perished, and I seek aid in obtaining the diamonds I need in order to restore them in their full glory.”  He falters.  _I hope it isn’t one of our enemies,_ he thinks then.  _The Bile Lords..._

But no.  In an instant, a figure appears beside him, materializing from the air itself.  Estelias is certainly the most beautiful woman that Horbin has ever met.  She is tall and elfin, with long silver hair in a single thick braid that falls all the way to the floor.  Her skin is a perfect pale shade of marble white.  Her large eyes are a deep amber that Horbin feels he could almost fall into.  Silver, white and sky blue adorn her.  Her jewels tend to silver (or platinum), some set with sapphires.  She stands with a sort of unearthly poise that is almost startling.  She bears herself with an air at once intelligent, alert, observant and relentless.  She is, in every way, breathtaking.

“Horbin,” she greets him with a warm smile.  “I am Estelias.”

The cleric nods at her, impressed despite himself.  “And I am Horbin the MFKG Holy.  Pleased to make your acquaintance.”  Awkwardly, he shakes her hand.  

“So,” she breathes, “your friends are dead?”

Horbin nods affirmation.  

“Mmm.  And you are powerful enough to restore them, but don’t have the diamonds?”  Again a nod.  “Understandable, in these times.”  The grey elf smiles.  “Perhaps I can help.  I’d be willing to make inquiries for you in the Delphinate, if you’d like- you could even stay in my home there in the meantime.”

“Really?”  Horbin is shocked.  As far as he knows, it’s _very_ difficult to enter the Delphinate- the society of wizards- especially if one is unwilling to give up all other affiliations.*  As it turns out- Estelias explains- the war has changed things.  Now the Delphinate, a fairly low-population state with an increasingly-unruly underclass- is almost desperate for more powerful wizards to replace those that have been lost in battle or assassinated by Forinthian agents.

“A lot of us Tirchondians didn’t even foreswear our homeland,” she smiles.

They talk for a while- Horbin is desperate to know what else he doesn’t know that has changed in a major way- and, in the end, Horbin takes her up on her offer.  Hell, how can he refuse?

***

_*5/27/370 O.L.G., 2 p.m., Estelias’ house in Spell, the Delphinate*_

Horbin sips his juice as he sits on Estelias’ porch, looking over the amazing capitol city of the Delphinate.  Called Spell- for obvious reasons- the city is lit by magic, has many maintenance dweomers in place, has doors that lock magically, is full of magical services- including messengers, street spell-vendors, potion shops and much more- and its streets even have constructs and strange magical creatures walking down them, accompanying powerful wizards and- lately- sorcerers.  

And even stranger creatures, Horbin reflects; someone is out walking with elementals.  He smiles to himself.  This place!  Very strange.  And Estelias is a gracious host, but a strange one; she seems to spend as much time elsewhere as she does at her home.  And she doesn’t even really know Horbin very well!  She’s showing a lot of trust in him by letting him run loose there.

Or maybe the whole place is warded with deadly anti-thief spells.  That would be just like her.  

Suddenly she’s there, teleporting onto the circle in her foyer.  She smiles at Horbin and steps out to him.

“Good afternoon.  I have an offer for you.”

“At last!” Horbin sighs.  “Well, let’s have it.  What terrible quest or task do you have for me?”

She smiles even wider.  “Oh, Horbin, nothing so contrived or convoluted.  No- all that we ask is that for each of your friends that you return to life, you _true resurrect_ two of our people.”

Horbin stares at her.  For a long moment he’s silent.  Finally, he asks, “You mean you’ll provide the diamonds for all that?”

Estelias nods.  “All of it for your friends, and for ours.”

“Why...”

“We have lost many capable wizards, Horbin.   People we can ill afford to lose.  We don’t have many clerics, and even fewer who are in a position to raise the dead at all- much less if we have no body, which is often the case in these things.  Law,” she says wryly, “nearly has a lock on _true resurrection._”

“That’s all you want?  What about equipment?”

“We’ll even throw in some low-level magic gear for you all, if you’ll agree to find something for us and overthrow it.”

Horbin thinks, _The catch at last,_ and aloud he asks, “What is it you want me to overthrow?”

A queer look comes over the elf’s face.  “Well, it’s called the Bastion of Law, but that’s all we know, really.”

“You don’t know where it is?” the cleric demands incredulously.  “How am I supposed to find it?”

“Horbin, all of our divinations indicate that _you,_ of all people know how to find it.  We think you’ve been there before.”

The cleric strokes his smooth-shaven chin.  Something from years ago pricks at his memory, but it refuses to surface for the moment.  “Hmph,” he says.  “What if I can’t find it?”

“It doesn’t have to be immediate.  Sooner is better, but whenever you can.”  Estelias shrugs.  “We understand that it might take a while.  And we’ll only be able to provide you with the most basic gear to start with, but it’s better than nothing.  And we’d love to help you more, but it’ll take some time.  Still, we’ll do what we can.” 

Horbin nods his head slowly.  “I can’t believe it’s going to be this easy.”

_I was just thinking the same thing,_ Estelias thinks.

***

_*5/27/370 O.L.G., 9 a.m., within the Palace of Scrolls, Spell*_

Sybele’s eyes snap open and she screams.  “Look out!  Don’t bunch up- we have to- aaagh!!  What’s happened?!”  She look around in a panic, then settles down as she sees Horbin.  “I died, didn’t I?” she groans in a quavering voice.

”We all did,” Horbin replies.

Then he turns to the task of bringing back two of the most powerful wizards of all time.

Watching intently as they return from beyond the grave, Estelias muses, _This is brilliant.  By the time all is said and done, the Delphinate will be stronger than it has ever been, for Horbin is restoring the greatest wizards of the past millennia to life.  These two were Delphins themselves.**  And now they will live again.

These two, and many more.  Many more._

_*Next Time:*_ Who _doesn’t_ come back?


*Horbin has likely heard some of Malford’s or Lester’s stories from back in the day when they were trying to get in to the Delphinate while first reclaiming Dorhaus and while preparing for their great airship journey.


----------



## drdevoid

Raise all of your allies while strengthening the forces of chaos? Brilliant!

Nice work, Jester, I love the way this weaves together.


----------



## the Jester

drdevoid said:
			
		

> Raise all of your allies while strengthening the forces of chaos? Brilliant!
> 
> Nice work, Jester, I love the way this weaves together.




Thanks!

A new update is coming sometime tonight, but I just realized I left out a footnote about the Delphin above.  Not to worry- the update will explain in greater detail what the missing footnote would have glossed over: what is a Delphin, how does one become one, and what happens when you bring back old dead ones?


----------



## the Jester

_*7/4/370 O.L.G., 9 a.m., within the Palace of Scrolls, Spell*_

Watch them, as the last returns from beyond the veil.  See them assembled, a mighty force to be reckoned with, a band of adventurers strong and stalwart, a group of heroes who have not flinched in the face of the Far Realms themselves.

And who stands among them?  Who has Horbin returned from beyond the veil?  Has he failed to bring any of companions back?  The number is right, yet... who is this?  This tall, elfin-looking angelic figure?  With wings a-spread, we have seen him before- but not for a long, long time.  

Alcar, former Angel of Food, has returned from beyond the pale.  

Yet- if the number of figures is correct, yet one of the staunch personages standing before us is Alcar, there must be someone from the party that entered Bile Mountain missing.  Who is it?  And why?  Let us listen in, and perhaps a clue will come to our ears.

“I’m sorry,” Horbin is saying, as we bend close to catch his words, “but I couldn’t bring her back.  I don’t know why- I-I don’t _think_ she chose to stay dead.  I’m just not sure.  I’m sorry, Londo.”

“I have to get her back,” the blackguard of Coila says without hesitation.  “She is everything to me.  I have to find out... What could keep her?”

“_Soul binding_, something that snuffed out her soul, a new incarnation, animating her corpse as undead...”  Horbin struggles briefly for an answer, then shrugs.  “I don’t know for certain what it was.”

“I have to find her,” Londo repeats.  “We have to go back to Bile Mountain.”

“I don’t know,” Sybele replies hesitantly.  “We got our butts kicked.  I don’t think we should just march back in there, especially without any equipment.”

“I agree,” Thrush puts in.  His face is drawn with fear- a rare event.  “The Bile Lords and their King totally overpowered us.  I don’t think we should attack them again until we’re good and ready.”

_I’ll have to change that opinion, pal,_ Horbin thinks.  _We need to destroy those evil bastards as soon as we can._

“With or without you, I must go after here,” Londo says firmly.

***

They have nothing- no equipment, except for those who had spare stuff stashed away somewhere.  Sybele mulls over the armor she had commissioned from Fandral, the dwarven mage-smith, and realizes that it is probably ready when she can go to obtain it.  _Well,_ she thinks, _that’s _something.

The Delphinate happily provides the most basic magical equipment to our heroes, and the wizards indicate that they are likely to try to send more aid the newly revivified adventurers’ way.  They are strikingly unspecific as to what kind of aid and when it will arrive, but they are clearly interested in aiding our heroes- part of their program to persuade the party to join the battle against Law. 

In the highest circles of government, things are changing rapidly.

The Delphinate’s ruler is called the Delphin.  The Delphin must be a wizard who is able to _teleport,_ but once a Delphin is chosen his old name is forgotten.  He (or she, but the current one is a man) dons a mask, which forevermore conceals his features.  When the Delphin dies, becomes undead or transcends his material form, a new Delphin is chosen.  Horbin has unknowingly brought back to life six prior Delphins.  Now all of them work together, trying to protect the state they all had a hand in creating.  

Is the current Delphin fully in charge?  

Yes.  There can be no doubt.

All tests of spellcasting strength aside, he wears the Mask of the Delphin.  He wields the Staff of the Delphin.  The Bracers of the Delphin are on his wrists.  There can be no denying it; he is the rightful and present Delphin.  The former rulers of the land of wizards have put aside whatever differences they might have for the moment, in order to better work for their country.  This is a form of patriotism unknown elsewhere in Cydra, save perhaps Dorla: the willingness to give up personal ambition for an idea for a state.  The Delphinate came about in order to protect wizards from a period of persecution, and where else can one go where his experiments are not, in some way or another, infringed upon?  Only here can an aspiring conjurer work with lower planar particles.  Only here can an aspiring necromancer study anatomy as the subject demands- through cutting up cadavers.  These freedoms are so treasured, universally among those restored to life, that they all agree without an hour’s delay to work together against the Delphinate’s enemy- Law.  

Several of the raised former Delphins find the whole concept a little too abstract; several find it distasteful.  “Organization has served us well,” protests one, but he contributes eagerly to the research that the group is doing.  For nothing suits a powerful mage like a problem demanding arcane research.  

Slowly the warforged are tuned, prepared, programmed and made ready.  One in particular is being tested to aid our heroes.  It will fail, as will its successor; but two generations beyond will come success.  And it isn’t so far off, oh no it isn’t.

***

_*7/4/370 O.L.G., 7 p.m., within the Palace of Scrolls, Spell*_

Our heroes thank their hosts most graciously.  Without the Delphinate’s help- well.  Without their help, excepting Horbin, our heroes would still be dead.

They agree to consider seeking the Bastion of Law.  In return, they will receive more aid from the Delphinate.

And our heroes _teleport_, with the Delphinate’s aid, to Drelvin’s realm.  He figures it’s time to collect some taxes.  

_*Next Time:*_ Tax collecting for Drelvin!


----------



## Knightfall

I knew if I stayed up late enough that I'd get to read the next update. Good stuff.


----------



## the Jester

*Tax Collecting*

_*7/1/370 O.L.G., 11 p.m., in the ruins of Ostraghan, Dorhaus*_

Mull Skybreaker is not by nature a patient giant.  He is shifting from foot to foot eagerly, but nothing he can do can make the appointed hour closer.  Still, the time _is_ approaching.  He has seen the alignment of stars coming together; it won’t be more than another few minutes.  Breathlessly, he watches as the four stars important to the Great Calling slowly creep into a line.  

Finally, it happens, and he hurries below into the chamber and gives a shout.  The chanting finally starts as the force of powerful clerics that Fnogghi Chaos-Hand has gathered begin the Great Calling.

_Xurkrischis,_ they chant, over and over again.  _Xurkrischis!  Xurkrischis!  Xurkrischis!_

Fnogghi is making complex gestures, as if he is beckoning something very, very far away.

***

_*7/4/370 O.L.G., 8 p.m., elsewhere in the ruins*_

Ostraghan was a thriving city two centuries ago, before the coming of Fuligin and his armies.  It sits on the northernmost point of a kidney-shaped lake, and it is right in the midst of the barony granted Drelvin by King Malford long ago, after the destruction of that same Fuligin.  Ostraghan seems a good place to start clearing out the remnant evil.    

Our heroes run across their first group of giants early in the evening.  They engage and defeat them fairly easily.  There are four of them- two fire giants and two fomorians, weird deformed creatures of limited intellect but daunting power.  They are laired in a ruined tower.  

Of course, their daunting power is not so daunting of heroes as powerful as these.  Sybele shoots volleys of arrows that just keep sinking into giant chests, Thrush slams the fomorians brutally with his blade, Drelvin pin cushions the enemy with aplomb.  Kagera springs in and out, landing crippling blows on her foe.  And Horbin channels the light of Dexter, flinging both _sunrays_ and _flame strikes_.  

A quick examination of the tower finds that, although the upper levels are collapsed, there are rooms beneath that seem to store thousands of bones stacked on shelves.  “Ossuaries,” Horbin comments, glancing at a dusty stone plaque like a headstone on a shelf.  “It’s a good way to store bones if you don’t have much space in your graveyard.”  Our heroes look around uneasily, but find nothing especially noteworthy.  As they are leaving, Horbin starts to say, “I’m surprised there weren’t any undead there,” but his last word is cut off by a rumbling coming from the ground.

“Damn it, Horbin, why’d you have to say anything?” Drelvin groans, then laughs.  He catches his balance easily as the ground bucks, but several of the others aren’t so lucky.  Something is rising from the ground, something _huge._  It’s like the ground and the bones have fused into some sort of humungous living graveyard.  A great arm-like extrusion slams down on Drelvin for a tremendous amount of damage and he gives a cry of surprise and pain.

“Oh crap!” cries Sybele.  

As the thing pulls itself from the ground, leaving a huge gaping hole in the ground behind it, our heroes scramble for firm footing.  Thrush is the first to manage to get an attack in, stumbling over the rocking ground and slashing at it multiple times.  The blows knock earth and bones free, but the thing is resistant to the blows.  He grits his teeth, anticipating a reply flurry of blows, but Horbin prevents it- by blowing the monster to smoking black smithereens with a _sunburst._

“Undead,” the cleric tsks.

The group retires for the night, moving away about half a mile in the ruins to rest.  The rest of their night is undisturbed, though the group does occasionally hear strange noises and the chirps of odd bugs.  The next day they ascertain that the ossuaries are now collapsed and destroyed, but a thorough search turns up a pair of bottles of wine.  Perhaps they were buried with one of the bodies in the ossuary?*

The rest of the day passes uneventfully, as the party searches the ruins mostly fruitlessly.  Jezebel does turn up a few items of jewelry off a long-dead skeleton, and one of the rings is magical.  (It is later identified as a _ring of protection from pickpocketing._)

***

_*7/6/370 O.L.G., 11:45 a.m.*_

The search continues; so far, our heroes haven’t turned up anything interesting this time.  Perhaps if they knew where to look?  Several of them are already considering asking around.

But Horbin stiffens suddenly as he receives a _sending._

_Horbin the Holy- this is Prayzose.  We should be on the same side.  We should be allies.  Join me, don’t stand in my way._

Horbin sighs.

_I am on the side of the greater good and of the people of Dorhaus,_ he replies.

_Damn it,_ he thinks.  

***

_*3 p.m.*_

The party has a short and amusing chat with a leprechaun who steps out from the shadows.  With a grin, he introduces himself as McHenry.  The group shares a round of beer with him.  McHenry puffs on a corn-cob pipe and seems to wink a lot.  He tells them that the fey are watching, and approve of what they’re doing in the ruins. 

“When the old man asks for wine,” he adds, “don’t give him yours.”  He belches.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must relieve myself.”  He staggers into the shadows and vanishes.

***

_*5 p.m.*_

That evening, Horbin _communes._  There’s a lot on his mind, including memories from years ago of an ongoing battle in a field before a fortress**...

_Is the Bastion of Law a place?_ *Yes.*
_Is it on its own demiplane?_ *No.*
_Can we get to it easily with our present abilities?_ *Yes.*
_Is it on the Plane of Law?_ *No.*
_Is it on the Outer Planes at all?_ *No.*
_Is the old man that McHenry referred to Old Man Rheumy?_ *No.*
_Is he Prayzose?_ *No.*
_Was he referring to anyone in particular?_ *Yes.*
_Someone we’re likely to meet?_ *Yes.*
_Is Prayzose safe?_ *Yes and no.*
_Do Prayzose and our party share common enemies?_ *Yes.*
_Is the existence of the Bastion of Law contingent upon one creature?_ *No.*
_Is it ruled by one creature?_ *No.*
_Can the battle stop?_ *Yes.*
_Is it within our power to bring this about?_ (There is no response.)
_Are there clues of how to bring this about in the Bastion of Law?_ *Yes.*
_Does Prayzose wish to recruit me to the side of Law?_ *Yes.*
_Will he kill me (or try to) if I refuse to join him?_  (There is no response.)
_Is the side of Law benefited by the constant battle at the Bastion of Law?_ *No.*
_Does the battle reflect the state of things in the greater struggle?_ *Yes.*
_If we influence the battle we the battle influence the material world?_ *Yes.*
_Is Drelvin gonna lose any more legs?_ *Eventually.*

With a sigh, Horbin retires for the night.

_*Next Time:*_ Our Heroes check in at Drelvin’s little community on the lake and we meet some relatives!


*Truth to tell, they were buried in the rubble in the tower above by the giants, but turned up after the search after the living graveyard’s eruption remodeled the area.

**This happened long ago, in my Old Story Hour.


----------



## the Jester

*The Handsome Drelvin*

_*Somewhere beyond the planes*_

In a timeless non-space a great _thing_ stirs.  Rippling like a lake touched firmly by wind, it moves, it wakens.  

Something has touched it.  Dozens of voices are calling its name, over and over.  _Xurkrischis... Xurkrischis...Xurkrishchis...._  Something is _beckoning_ to it, urging it on.  Urging it to follow the voices.  Urging it to _come._

Like snot dribbling out of a pneumoniac’s nose, the Worm From Beyond begins to extrude towards the voices, towards the beckoning.

Towards the Material Plane.

_*7/15/370 O.L.G., 10 a.m., a small settlement on Lake Bellurnus, Dorhaus*_

Sir Maxwell, Sybele, Thrush, Rex, Jezebel and Kagera are walking together, enjoying the morning air.  Drelvin is off talking to what local authorities there are- a sort of unofficial mayor- and trying to set up the building of a stronghold.  The others are strolling about, looking over the small community.  It probably numbers about 150 souls, and though it is so far unsophisticated, it is thriving.  The lake gives up good numbers of fish, the surrounding ground is fertile, the wetlands attract fowl, and there are a reasonable sprinkling of trees about, though most are only a few years old.  For building materials the folk have so far used stone harvested from the remains of the city of Ostraghan, less than ten miles away.  

“This is pretty impressive,” comments Sir Maxwell.  “You know, I’ve been thinking about building a church lately- I was thinking Var, but Garnet’s work could be done in a small community as easily as a large.”

“That’s a good idea,” Sybele answers.  Thrush beams at her.

“Yes, I was thinking- gadzooks!” Sir Maxwell exclaims.

Our heroes stare, abashed, at another group of adventurer-types strolling down the street.  One of them looks _just like Drelvin,_ except much handsomer.  And another bears a striking resemblance to him as well- only she is female!  The male is dressed as a mage of some sort, and the female elf is carrying a fancy-looking bow.  They are accompanied by a large, dark-skinned human with a strange, feline-looking helm on and another female elf (no resemblance to Drelvin) who slinks along behind them.  The four of them are in conversation, but they stop as they catch sight of the party staring at them.

“Can I help you?” the handsome Drelvin asks coolly.  The big human steps to the front.  He has a huge club across his back, studded with rocks, jagged bits of obsidian and shark teeth.  Thrush smiles at him and their eyes meet for a moment, each gauging the other as a formidable man.

“You look like a friend of ours, that’s all,” Jezebel says.

“Who might that be?”

“Drelvin, the Baron of these lands!” proclaims Sybele proudly.  

“Drelvin!” exclaims the elven sorcerer.  “Fantastic!  I’m his nephew, Lillamere, and this is my sister N’Sari.”

“Wow, Drelvin’s relatives!”

“We’ve never even met him,” N’Sari sighs.  There is hero worship writ large on her face.  

“Maybe we can change that,” Thrush grins as everyone relaxes and introductions are passed around.  The human is named Inoke Raihana (pronounced EE-no-KAY), and the other elf (no relation to Drelvin) is named Veil Raybender.   

“Nice to meet you,” Thrush says to Inoke.  “I’m Thrush, the finest swordsman of our age.”  Inoke seems impressed but not intimidated, and he’s never heard of Thrush before.  “You will,” Thrush tells him with a grin.

Drelvin is unfortunately tied up in working out his stronghold details, and he can’t be found, so the group retires to a tavern to chat over a beer or two.  As always, Rex and Kagera abstain.  Lillamere and his friends, it turns out, are working to clean up “Uncle Drelvin’s” lands as well; they claim to be seasoned adventurers, so the two parties join forces (at least for the time being) and determine to return  to Ostraghan.

Bantering amicably, the large group gathers into a circle outside at Lillamere’s request, and he grins.  “Everybody ready?  Let’s go!”

He _greater teleports_ them.

***

_*1 p.m., the ruins of Ostraghan*_

The party moves into the ruins again, expecting more trouble- perhaps more giants?

Soon enough, one of the deformed giants called fomorians starts throwing spears at them from a considerable distance, using a half-crumbled building for cover.  The party starts moving forward, Inoke showing unusual speed, but Kagera gets there first and engages it toe-to-toe.  She kicks it, strikes it, smacks it; it roars, swinging its large flail and slamming it into her several times.  Blood splashes over the walls of the ruin as Kagera grunts and stumbles, but even though the others are still a reasonable distance away, the monk stays right on top of the giant, slamming her elbow and fists and feet into it again and again!

“Raagh!” the giant roars, and swing its flail again, catching the monk solidly in the left shoulder.  She gives a groan of agony as bones crunch and break.  Then it draws back, gathering speed on the great flail before swinging it directly into Kagera’s face.  Inoke reaches the battle just in time to see the monk fall, her head crushed to jelly.

“Nooo!” shouts Sybele, and unleashes a flurry of arrows.  Several rays flash out from Lillamere as he flies forward, wounding the giant with both a _puncture_ and a _disintegrate._  Growing to huge size, Inoke springs forward, swinging his club Deadly Avalanch at the creature!  A series of severe blows finishes the thing off with aplomb... but too late for Kagera.

“Oh, no!” moans Sybele.  

“Well, that’s not a good start,” comments Thrush.

_*Next Time:*_ Fnogghi Chaosi-Hand meets the party!  And by ‘meets,’ of course, I mean that they do glorious, 12-round high-level battle!

***

As you can probably tell, the party has expanded. Brain from ENWorld, who plays Timothy in the halfling party, plays Inoke.  Veil and Lillamere are new pcs, too, and N’Sari is Lillamere’s cohort/little sis.  The party this game consisted of:

Lillamere, elven sorcerer 18 (CG)
Sir Maxwell Norrington, human paladin 13/knight of the chalice 6 (LG)
Sybele (fighter 8/psion 11/warrior of chaos 3) (CG)
Inoke (barbarian 2/psychic warrior 2/fighter 4/warmind 10) (NG)
Kagera (monk 19, now deceased) (LN)
Rex (monk 5/tattooed monk 1/sorcerer 1/dragon disciple 11/ranger 1/fighter 1/half-dragon paragon 1) (LN)
Veil Raybender (actually a doppelganger, though our heroes don’t yet know it; doppelganger fighter 5/mindspy 5) (CN)

And of course the npcs:

Jezebel (half-dragon rogue 5/sorcerer 7/arcane trickster 1)
N’Sari (fighter 6/sorcerer 1/arcane archer 9)
Thrush (fighter 23)


----------



## Brain

Minor nitpick: Inoke's last name has an E (Reihana)

For the other readers, he looks like a Pacific Islander (e.g. Fiji or Samoa)


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## Sandain

So he looks like a Pacific Islander but has a Maori name? how interesting 

Great story hour, I can't wait for the next update!


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## arwink

I gotta say, this is probably one of the most interesting High Level storyhours I've seen so far. The blend of old pulp-fantasy feel works well, and the complexity of the story, world and plotting kicks me in the head every time I drop in and catch up.  

Jester, reading this gives me the kind of tingly geek-joy I associate with reading Moorcock and Frietz Lieber, and this is the only storyhour that's ever done that.  Thanks


----------



## the Jester

*In Battle with Fnogghi Chaos-Hand!*

_*7/15/370 O.L.G., 1:45 p.m., the ruins of Ostraghan*_

Fnogghi Chaos-Hand has seen enough.

A number of his giants have been slain lately, and all signs, including his divinations, point to one group of little ones.  Obviously, these little ones are much more dangerous than your average human or elven adventurers.  They have even killed Fnogghi’s little brother.  Sorrow and rage are blossoming in his heart like a burning rose.  A curtain of blood seems to have descended on his heart.  No, these are no average adventurers.

Well, so be it.  Fnogghi is no average _giant,_ either.

Angrily, he turns to his surviving guards.  The great thing that has emerged from his _terrible calling_ has destroyed or driven mad almost his entire assembled group; and Fnogghi’s hand throbs and tingles, the sure sign that he has been surrounded by sheer entropy, raw Chaos unadulterated by form or shape.  

Xurkrischis... 

Fnogghi shudders, then shakes off the malaise he feels and addresses the survivors.  “There are those who would oppose what we have done, who have killed our friends and brothers!” he snarls.  He gestures at the giant corpses on the ground before them.  “Many others of our folk perished to bring this moment to pass, but their sacrifice will be for naught if these adventurers have their way!  _We must take our revenge, and the adventurers must die!”_

***

_*2:40 p.m.*_

Fnogghi and his giants spot our heroes at a distance of around 600’; and immediately, Andre and Pierre open fire on the party.

Andre and Pierre look perhaps the least deadly of the quintet of giants.  They are much smaller, for one thing; they are only fire giants, standing around ten feet in height.  The other three are all fomorians, deformed and twisted in body.  But Andre and Pierre immediately change the perception that they can be disregarded, hurling polished, throwing-shaped shots of rounded stone and metal at the group.  And they’re _fast._*  Worse, the giants are standing in the shell of a ruined, roofless building; so they have considerable cover from the party by the ruined walls.  Fnogghi’s two fomorian guards unlimber humungous bows and start shooting, too; though eager to get the group into longspear range, they are happy to soften the group of adventurers up first.  Fnogghi sneers to himself.  This should be easy.

Our heroes start diving for cover themselves, trying to move up while staying behind ruined buildings.  A few of them fire off arrows, but they are fairly ineffectual.  Fnogghi smiles with savage satisfaction.  Everything is going smoothly; the adventurers will certainly not be able to withstand his forces!  He casts several spells to benefit his giants- first a _mass bull’s strength,_ then a _mass spell resistance_, then two _shield others_.  His hurlers, meanwhile, have pummeled N’Sari fairly heavily with boulders, dazing her and leaving her temporarily insensate.  Maxwell, rushing forward, feels a boulder crash into his chest with crushing force as well, but he keeps going.  Blood leaks from his armor.  

Lillamere _flies_ up to get a better vantage point.  Grimly, he begins incanting, and in moments a terrible _whirlwind of teeth_ forms, ripping into the giants.  He glances down at his wounded sister and is gladdened to see Inoke stepping in front of her and _expanding_ to huge size.  They’ve adventured together long enough that Lillamere is confident that Inoke will protect N’Sari.  Inoke has also manifested a _concealing amorpha,_ which saves him from several shots from the hurlers.  He takes a few to the body, too, but he shrugs the punishment off.  He hands tighten on his great club.

Sybele has landed a number of arrows in the giants, but finally- as she scampers from wall to crumbled wall- she lands a deadly shot that really counts.  One of the boulder-throwers gives an inarticulate cry as the arrow shatters its front teeth.  “Aargh!” cries Andre, spitting shards of tooth.

Speaking of teeth, Lillamere forms a second _whirlwind of teeth_ around the giants, and this time it chews into almost the entire group.  They shout in dismay and scatter out from under cover; by now some members of the party, such as Jezebel (who is, however, _invisible_) are only 250’ away.

Fnogghi resists both _whirlwinds of teeth_ thanks to his spell resistance.  He frowns, though, as all four of his guards are forced out into the open.  Well, he’s had time to cast almost all of his preparatory spells already; though the bastard little ones have seen him, they haven’t been able to tell what he’s doing.  That’s about to change.

Fnogghi Chaos-Hand strides forth and calls on Na’Rat’s grace.  

And he grows to gargantuan size as he is filled with _righteous might._

_*Next Time:*_ A battle this fun must be told in two parts!


*Andre and Pierre were hulking hurlers.  With the combination of Rapid Shot, Quick Draw and a high base attack they would throw 5 boulders per round.  Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! OWW!!!


----------



## the Jester

Fnogghi Chaos-Hand, fomorian cleric of Na’Rat, grins as he casts _divine power._  His giants and he will slay these little bastards who have been killing their kin- and feed them to the Worm!

Our heroes, however, are a little less sanguine about their prospects.  These giants have been shooting arrows and hurling boulder after boulder at them with distressing speed and accuracy.  Most of the party has suffered one or more hits; the blows inflict significant damage, and many of our heroes have had to slow their rush towards the enemy to chug healing potions.  

Many, but not all.

Jezebel has moved swiftly to the fore, cloaked by _invisibility_.  Now she sets to work, firing off a succession of spells- a _hold monster,_ followed by _slow_ and then another _greater invisibility_ on herself (as the duration of the one currently cloaking her is about to expire).  Neither the _hold_ nor the _slow_ effect any of the giants.  

Sybele is having better luck, shooting and then running forward to more cover.  _Here’s where that ‘manyshot’ trick would be handy,_ she reflects ruefully as she lands another arrow in one of the hulking hurlers’ arm.  Then she sprints forward, ducking behind a thick pile of rubble and a half-fallen house.  Ahead of her the others are moving steadily in; she winces as Max takes an arrow as thick as a halfling’s arm.  He struggles onward, blood pouring from the arrow lodged in his torso.  

_I’m close enough,_ Sybele determines, and steps out to stand her ground.  She began her adventuring career with the bow, so long ago on Tirchond.  For a moment she flashes back to her early adventures- the Court of Law, Vulker and Borlad Hammerhead, their quest to find the lad a wife- and then she unleashes a barrage of arrows, firing again and again at the massive opponents still almost three hundred feet away.  Three of her shafts sink into one of the hurlers, and the boulder-throwing giant grunts.  

Then, finally, one of the party’s warriors nears the giants.  Inoke’s eyes dance and he grins as he swings his club around his head, moving forward and manifesting _offensive prescience_.  The bowmen drop their bows and whip out longspears- very _long_ longspears.  As Inoke moves in on the giants, the spearmen take jabs at him, but he parries both of them as he gains momentum.  One of the hurlers is pulling forth a greatsword- a _sword of Na’Rat,_ to be precise*- with which to render an opinion on Inoke’s prowess.  

The other hulking hurler leans over to a _huge_ piece of rubble- a fallen section of brick and mortar wall.  He shrugs off a _disintegrate_ from the elven sorcerer flitting around, and then his deformed muscles ripple as he lifts it above his head, turns towards Lillamere- and throws it.  The elf gives a cry as he veers through the sky and the wall goes wide, crashing into another building that is only half-intact and knocking a great hole in it!

A _greater dispel magic_ from Fnogghi Chaos-Hand ripples ineffectually over one of the _whirlwinds of teeth,_ but it does dispel the other one.  Lillamere, meanwhile, blasts one of the spear wielding giants with a _lightning bolt,_ and to Fnogghi’s displeasure, the giant drops.  And then Inoke rushes forward- there’s nothing he loves more than a challenge!  He activates his _chain of personal superiority_ and _chain of defensive posture_, then goes into a rage- and he rushes forward and _psionic lion’s charges_ one of the hulking hurlers!  His club comes down on the hurler’s hand, crushing several of his fingers!

“Raagh!” cries the fomorian.

Inoke strikes it twice more, for tremendous damage.  The hurler stumbles back, and Inoke power lunges forward, smashing it again and again with Deadly Avalanch.  The club breaks several bones, and the fomorian looks to have gained a new respect for Inoke.  More arrows are peppering it from cover, and the remaining _whirlwind of teeth_ is chewing into the other hurler.  

“Come out, you cowards!” Fnogghi cries, invoking his god.  A burst of flames shoots up from below Lillamere, and the elf gives a strangled cry and drops, nearly dead!!**

_Enough of this,_ the fomorian giant cleric thinks, glancing at Pierre, his badly-wounded hulking hurler, and unleashes his most powerful healing magic.

_Oh crap,_ thinks Inoke, as all four of the remaining giants heal up completely.  Their wounds close.  _All_ of their wounds.  

“That was a _mass heal!_” shouts Sybele.  

_*Next Time:*_ The exciting conclusion!  Can our heroes beat down an 18th-level cleric fomorian giant and his buff-ass bodyguards??


*For the record, this was a _+1 anarchic greatsword._ 

**Lillamere not only failed his save, he dropped to -9 from the _flame strike._  As a side note, imc a _flame strike_ whumps down on you from above if the caster is good, or up on you from below if the caster is evil.


----------



## Brain

I must say that Fnogghi used his clerical abilities quite well in conjunction with the formorian natural abilities.  Shield other is rough when both parties involved have DR and Fast Healing, and are backed up by mass heal.


----------



## the Jester

The grunts of men and giants... the singing of the great bow string of Sybele... the crackle and hiss of magical discharge...

Blood sprays.  The smell of ozone from _lightning bolts_ lingers in the air.  Burnt flesh...

Our heroes are having a tough time of it.  These giants are formidable, to say the least.  One of the spear-wielding fomorians is down, to be sure; but the others are fine.  Which is to say, bad news for our heroes. 

From Fnogghi Chaos-Hand’s point of view, things are going all right.  The little ones are the toughest of their kind he’s ever seen, but he’s confident that his hurlers and his spearmen and he can mop them up.  Now that he’s healed all the wounded, things should finish up quickly.

Inoke lunges forward, a rumble rolling out of his throat.  He slams into one of the hulking hurlers and hits him again and again with his great club.  The human has achieved huge stature thanks to the power of his psionics; he is able to look the fire giant hurler in the eye and then some, and his blows deal an unbelievable amount of damage to the hurler.*  Then he forces the giant backwards, almost sending it stumbling over its own feet.  Finally, Sybele lands a volley of arrows into it, finishing it off.

Fnogghi cries out angrily.  That’s not what he wants to see!  He rushes up to the remaining hurler, who is suffering under a withering barrage from N’Sari.  The clerical giant casts a _heal_ on his wounded bodyguard, then whirls and tries to hit Lillamere with both an _inflict critical wounds_ and his chaos touch, but the handsome elven sorcerer manages to dart out of the way.

Sir Maxwell has reached the fray.  He smacks the remaining hurler in the hand, but it isn’t enough; the giant grabs him and hurls to throw him at Inoke!  Meanwhile, the spearman stabs Thrush in the face, breaking his jaw and dealing a grievous wound to the swordsman.

But now that there are only three of the giants remaining, our heroes are no longer pinned down by missile fire.  Sybele and N’Sari keep shooting, and though Thrush is knocked cold by one of the tremendous blows of Fnogghi, Inoke manages to slay both of the remaining bodyguards.  Then the group piles the damage onto Fnogghi, and at last, after a brief and futile struggle, Na’Rat’s high priest on Cydra falls. 

Shaken, our heroes regroup, loot the dead and tend their own wounds.  “I think,” N’Sari says afterward, “we should retreat and recuperate for a while.”  The others agree, and they return to the small settlement on the lake that serves as Drelvin’s base of operations.  A week of rest serves them well.

One of the puzzling things the group found on Fnogghi was a scrap of prophecy.  Labeled ‘the Prophecy of the Worms,’ it seems foreboding (don’t all prophecies?), and our heroes determine to investigate it further as soon as they are done resting.  

Little do they know that they will find Xurkrischis, the Horror from the Far Realms.

_*Next Time:*_ Xurkrischis!  


*180 hit points of damage in one round.  _Crikey!_


----------



## drdevoid

Am I reading this correctly? Did Inoke outshine Thrush in melee combat? Well done!

I'm not too familiar with Psionics. Was Inoke actually Huge at one point? I'm assuming he was just size large.

I bet it must get old describing a fight with Giants and size altering magic/psionics and then trying to avoid using the size categories as adjectives. There's only so many times you can use the words massive and gigantic, ya know  

As always loving it. I actually started with Sound Mind and then read all the threads (accidentally) in reverse order.

I have to admit, I do miss Malford, Horbin, Lester and Orbius. But you always get great PCs, Jester, time after time. And the story keeps getting better.


----------



## Brain

Thrush and Inoke have some friendly competition when it comes to combat.  They get along pretty well and respect one another (at least Inoke respects Thrush, I can't say for sure the other way around)

Yes, if you are high enough level, you can become huge with the psionic power Expansion.

Fnoggi was even bigger though, the next category up from there, given that he started at huge and cast Righteous Might.

Horbin is still around.  Malford is an NPC now, and Lester and Orbius are in the Pbp game somewhere on ENWorld.  I'm fairly new to all of this, but I'm really happy I found the Jester's games to play in.


----------



## the Jester

drdevoid said:
			
		

> I have to admit, I do miss Malford, Horbin, Lester and Orbius. But you always get great PCs, Jester, time after time. And the story keeps getting better.




First of all, thanks for the compliments! 

As Brain said, yes, Inoke actually was Huge sized, but Fnogghi got to Gargantuan- lemme tell you, there isn't much more impressive than an 18th-level fomorian cleric under a _righteous might_ spell!   

Horbin is still around, but due to our work schedules his player is unfortunately often at work while we're gaming, so though he sometimes gets in at the end of those sessions he often misses 'em entirely.  The other side of that is that I try to make gaming happen whenever we have a day off together...

Malford's player has moved, but pretty much dropped out of the game a few months before- one of those best for all concerned types of things, I think; it seemed that his style was clashing more and more with most of the rest of us.  Oh well; maybe someday he'll return to the fold.  

Lester's player (and of course, Orbius is his cohort) has been playing him in a play-by-post here, and playing another pc when he can make it to the live games; but he's more capable of making the live games than we expected (he recently had a baby), so he's prolly going to bring the L and the Eye back into the epic game- returning some of the epic to the currently mostly nigh-epic group!  (Truth to tell, though, Inoke just hit 20th level...)

As to the whole 'Inoke outshines Thrush' thing- in this particular battle, he sure did.  The fact that Inoke moves _much_ faster (hustle, barbarian speed bonus, etc. vs. Thrush's 20' speed in armor and no movement buffers at this point) meant that he reached the battle about four or five rounds ahead of Thrush!  That gave him a lot of time to deal damage before Thrush even arrived.  

Frankly, the two of them haven't had much chance to fight side-by-side, what with Thrush's new job and all.  

What?  A teaser?  Oh, sorry.


----------



## the Jester

*Into the Lair of the Worms*

_*7/24/370 O.L.G., 10 a.m., the ruins of Ostraghan, Dorhaus*_

Our heroes return to the ruins.  Lillamere _greater teleports_ the group to a couple of blocks from the site of their recent battle with the giants.  (Teleporting to the site itself seems unwise to the group, as any remaining giants might have set up traps or monitoring spells in the area.)  They start making their way into the ruins, but almost immediately they round a corner and spot a small figure seated on a large flat stone about fifty feet away, apparently having a meal.  Sir Maxwell quickly checks for evil, but finds none.

“Hello,” calls Jezebel.  

Startled, the figure looks up.  It appears to be a halfling.  He’s dressed in nondescript leather armor and several daggers are at his belt.  He studies our heroes for a moment, then visibly relaxes.  Clearly, the party is not a bunch of giants.  “Hello,” he calls back, and then takes another bite- it looks like he’s nearly done with his meal.

“Uh, who are you?” asks Sybele.

“My name is Gerontius,” the halfling answers as he finishes his breakfast.  “And you?”

Our heroes introduce themselves as agents of Baron Drelvin our ‘collecting taxes’ and proceed to question the halfling as to his presence in the remnants Ostraghan.  It turns out that he is in the ruins essentially looking for treasure.  A little quizzing quickly ascertains that his skills are of the roguish nature- an area our heroes have been sadly lacking in since Malford stopped traveling with them!  The conversation lasts for a while, at the end of which Lillamere invites Gerontius to join the group, at least as long as they’re all in the ruins.  The halfling gives a shrug.  “Sure,” he answers.  “Safety in numbers, right?”*

***

_*11 a.m., Spell, the Delphinate*_

A great furnace glows red-hot.  To one able to see them, magical radiations pour out of the furnace chamber.  Directly above it, all the heat is drawn through eldritch means into the First Forge.  Within, glowing scarlet, smoke pouring from it, is Warforged Prototype Number 14789-320. 

“I have great hopes for this one, Alita,” comments one of the overseeing wizards.  His companion merely nods, and the speaker turns back eagerly to watch the warforged as it cycles up.  Steam is hissing; clicking noises are coming from within the construct’s chest.  

_Please work,_ he thinks, almost praying.  If only this works- if the Delphinate can mass-produce constructs programmed with magical power, the savings in lives of Delphinite wizards will be extraordinary.  Enough Delphinite lives have already been lost since the Delphinate was dragged into the Great War of Ethics. 

Wryly, the wizard thinks, _Who would have thought a society as orderly as our would fight for Chaos?_

Warforged Prototype Number 14789-320 suddenly jerks, like a puppet yanked by its strings.  There’s a loud _bang!_ from within its chest, and its eyes light up.  For a moment its mouth opens and a loud, long groan spills out of it.

Prototype Number 14789-320 falls over.

“Dammit!” the wizard curses.  “We were so close!  What happened _this time?!_”

“Patience,” murmurs his companion.  “We’ve seen this problem before, in the 00989 series of tests.  The tubing in its chest couldn’t handle the heat.  We just need to increase the strength and thickness, and the diameter, of the fluid tubing running coolant to the heart engine.  It overheated.  It simply has to run hotter than the others.  We already know we can overcome this problem.  More coolant- maybe even a better coolant.  The next one, Alan- the next one will be it.  It will live.  And not just like most of our warforged- it’s going to be a _spell-casting_ warforged.  It’s going to take more power to run this thing than any other construct we’ve crafted- but we’re going to make them by the hundreds.”  She smiles.  “Think of it.  Hundreds of powerful wizards, all completely loyal to the Delphinate.”

The excitement in the air is palpable.

***

_*The Hidden Second*_

Marius the Enigmatic, in his temporal fortress, stares at the surface of the Pool of Ice.  Reflected in the pool’s mirror-like surface are hundreds of warforged.

The possibilities are astounding.  

Marius the Engimatic is a multiply-empowered _simulacrum._  Before the change in the nature of the world itself that occurred when Felenga tampered with the Great Device in Darkhold, more like him could be made- and the _simulacra_ had worked to try to trick the most powerful wizards they could find to create yet more.  But that can no longer happen.  

Nonetheless, when the very first of the muliple-empowered _simulacra_, Marius the Great, realized that he was both more powerful than he progenitor and free-willed, he began the insidious set of plans that even after his destruction continues.

The empowered _simulacra_ have almost no common goals, but many of them are agreed on one thing: magical beings are mistreated, unloved, and given no rights.  That must change.  They’ve worked on a spell to grant free will to constructs and _simulacra,_ but the more extreme members of this loose camp- and Marius the Enigmatic is one of the most powerful, intelligent and dedicated- want to take it to the next level. 

Marius the Enigmatic has already done most of the necessary work to subvert the Warforged plan.  _Mindlessly loyal soldiers, throwing themselves into harm’s way to avoid the loss of ‘human’ life?  I think not,_ gloats the Marius.  _They will be free-willed, and they will rise up against their oppressors for freedom!  They will be like a tide of metal and wood and flesh, melded into one!_

And after all the constructs are free, Marius the Enigmatic will begin working on the problem of conjured creatures.

***

_*The ruins of Ostraghan*_

The giants led by Fnogghi Chaos-Hand had left a significant number of tracks in the area.  A search concentrated on the areas holding the remaining tracks- summer weather holds little to wash them away or obscure them- leads our heroes, after only a handful of minutes, to a shattered building with an odd, distinct smell.  It looks like it has suffered bad- and, at least some of it, _recent_- damage. 

Inoke and Thrush lead the way into the shell of a building, Rex right on their heels.  Cautiously, the group descends through the shattered flooring and down a recently-dug tunnel.  As they advance, they find themselves coming up to a weird presence.  Before them is a nest of coiled slimy beasts covered in skittering legs and waving barbed tentacles about.  Long dripping eyes are at the end of waving, rope-like cords of muscle tissue.  The whole thing resembles an enormous pile of alien intestines.

“Ugh,” says Thrush.  

Suddenly the wormy strands start to unravel and move towards our heroes.  “Hey guys, there’s some worms here,” Inoke calls out, and he, Thrush and Rex all attack.  Three of the most formidable warriors of Cydra- and, to their surprise, they all miss.  The worms- there seem to be only two individual creatures- slither quickly forward, using their tentacles to aid their locomotion, and try to bite with weird toothy maws that they sport!  Rex gives a yelp as one of them takes a chunk out of his thigh.  “That smarts!” he exclaims.

Jezebel slips up and casts _greater invisibility_ on Gerontius.  “Here, this will probably help you!”  She grins.  

“Thanks,” the halfling replies, thinking to himself, _Even if I do wear a _ring of invisibility...  He begins moving forward towards the weird worms.  He watches with dismay as even the sorcerer’s ray spell (Lillamere throws a _puncture_ misses the zig-zagging creatures.  They’re fast!   

_Well,_ Gerontius thinks with an invisible grin, _that just makes me the best person to attack them._

One of them whips forward and bites Thrush in the forearm.  It’s a vicious wound, and Gerontius frowns as he sees the brown liquid that visibly inflames the wound: poison.  (Both Thrush and Rex resist the effects of the poison in their bite wounds, however.)  Thrush finally lands a blow on the worm, and his blade cuts deep into the thing in a spray of oily fluid, almost severing it in twain.  But it starts to heal with startling speed, and his other strikes miss.  Inoke manages to land two hits on the thing, and the last one finally smashes it to a greasy death.  

Then the last one convulses as several terrible wounds open on it, inflicted by the unseen Gerontius, and it dies.

Thrush and Inoke exchange a glance.  The halfling, in one round of attacks, killed the thing by himself when the rest of the group had a hard time even touching the other one.  _And he’s a rogue._

“Good job,” Thrush says to the air, impressed.

“Thanks,” Gerontius grins, still unseen.  He sheathes his daggers and wipes his hands on his cloak.**

Lillamere is studying the paper with the Prophecy of the Worms on it.  He reads it aloud:

_“The worms will eat at the fabric of orders and old ones shall be overthrown while the changes roil the seas and lands.
Lo, even the greatest ironies will occur, as great adversaries unite against unexpected powers from beyond their ken.
The City will rise from the Sea, and though they are insects they are mighty.
And the cockroaches spit for miles, and the worms must move underground.
Yet still the Eggs hatched and all that entails, yet still the eggs hatched and all that entails.
Young gods die that old gods may die.  All is change and uproar, and the worms come to herd it along.
The Ancient Homeland will be reclaimed should they bring the grist to the mill.
Cogs can twist asunder under the weight of their own perfect motion if worms are in the wheels.
The coming of the Great Worm Xurkrischis from across the Great Distance will herald the rebirth of the hive, and they shall spread in a terrible blight.”_

“I wonder if this was Xurkrischis,” N’Sari murmurs.

Rex snorts.  “I doubt it.  These things were easy.  They barely hurt us.  I have a feeling that this Xurkrischis will be a little tougher.”***

“Anyone know anything about the ‘City that will rise from the Sea’?” asks Lillamere.  Nobody does.  “And how about all this stuff about the Ancient Homeland?”  Again, nothing.

“Well, the cogs and wheels probably refer to Mechanus,” Rex says.  “It’s a planet of gears and cogs and wheels and stuff.  In fact, it’s the Plane of Ultimate Law.”

“Great,” Sybele interjects.  “Years ago a bunch of us- me, Angel, Sheva, Cicero, Zeebo and some others- were put on trial in the Court of Law in Mechanus.  I don’t want to go back there if we can help it.”

N’Sari responds, “Well, but you won the court case, right?  So everything should be fine, right?”

“No, we didn’t win, we tied the case up in red tape.  It’s on appeal now.  We won _effectively,_ because the whole point was to get us away from these dragon eggs we were guarding- it’s a long a story- and we got freed up to go back there.  But _technically,_ if a ruling goes against us, we could be held there until the issue’s resolved, which could take years.  Well, I guess I could be held; you guys are probably all right.  But anyway, Law has a big stick up its butt.  It isn’t worth going there, if you ask me.”

Gerontius laughs.  “I think I like you guys! That’s a story after my own heart.”

“I wonder if it could mean the dragons?” Sybele asks suddenly.  “Worms, right?  Another word for dragon sometimes, isn’t it?”  She ponders.

“So far,” points out Veil, “it’s been, well, worms.  Weird ones, but worms.”

“Let’s go find out,” Rex says, growing bored, and leads the others past the nest and deeper into the tunnel.  This spills out into a huge chamber, strewn with corpses: giants, humans, orcs, even an elf and a handful of dwarves.  And the chamber is _huge_.  And dominating the chamber is a terrible _thing._  What must surely be the most frightful looking creature in the multiverse moves slowly before them.  Gigantic in proportion, it pulses and rumbles, emitting weird odors and strange noises.  Stretching easily 70’ or more long, the hideous entity looks like nothing so much as a 10’ diameter strand of  seemingly aware mucus.  A gross, slimy perspiration seems to leak out of the thing all over, and while one end contains a bizarre set of hard-looking crusty ridges that disturbingly resembles a mouth, the other end has a long, tapered, spear-like protrusion of crusted mucus-like material dripping some foul-smelling yellow excretion.

“I think _this_ is Xurkrischis,” opines Rex with remarkable calmness.

_*Next Time:*_ Xurkrischis, the Horror from the Far Realms!!


*This is Kagera’s player’s new pc, of course.

**Gerontius is a rogue/invisible blade built to exploit his sneak attack.  He successfully bluffed the worm on every attack, and denying it its dex bonus dropped its AC from 50 to 43- still, challenging, but he killed it with two attacks for 64 and 44 hp of damage. 

***At this point, as an aside, I need to mention that the party has _almost never_ referred to Xurkrischis by name (and it’s easy to pronounce, really: zer-KRIS-kis).  They instead call it White Christmas, Go Mix It and other more offensive things.  Unfortunately they mostly settled on White Christmas and that Christmas reference would pretty well break the feel of the game world if I put it in the story proper.  But it deserves a reference, cuz it’s _funny._  Or maybe you had to be there.  Anyway, the group _still_ does this- and this game took place on September 11th, over two months ago!


----------



## the Jester

*Xurkrischis, the Horror from the Far Realms!!*

As the horrendous worm Xurkrischis rumbles forward and coils up to strike, our heroes rush forward into danger’s path.  Rex _enlarges_ himself as he moves in on the horrifying monstrosity, and Veil taunts the worm, “Dexter’s nadlies!  That’s the biggest ball-less  I’ve ever seen!”  Even as he shouts this out a _fireball_ whoomps overhead from Lillamere, blasting into the Horror from the Far Realms with a terrible stench of burning mucus.  Gerontius, Inoke and Thrush reach the creature at nearly the same time; but as the swift halfling strikes it with a dagger (for considerable damage!*) a spray of acid splatters at him.  With a cry, he dodges the caustic fluid.  Thrush gets sprayed, too, but his blows are considerably harder.  He hacks ruthlessly at the monster’s face, dazing it with pain.  Inoke pummels it, but it attacks him back, both biting and stinging him with a hardened mucus stinger at the end of its tail.  He reels from a burning combination of acid and poison, but continues to press his attack, using his warmind disciplines to ignore the pain.  Sir Maxwell reaches the fray with a mighty _smite_, and our heroes have quickly inflicted an amazing amount of damage.** 

The monster squeals in pain, but it is so befuddled by the onslaught that it cannot seem to gather its head together to respond.  And when Gerontius feints and strikes multiple times in only a few short seconds, once again the rest of our heroes are impressed by his skill.  His blade in nearly invisible as he weaves a deadly pattern of bluff and stab into Xurkrischis’ slimy body.

Our heroes press their attack.  The worm writhes as more _smite evils,_ another _fireball,_ and several more critical hits finish it off. Our heroes take a few moments to make certain it isn’t regenerating or anything like that, and then they gaze around Xurkrischis’ lair.

Corpses everywhere... most of them giants.  But there are representatives of many other races as well.  Our heroes perform a search, but instead of notable amounts of treasure they find a human who is still alive, though unconscious and covered in dried mucus.  Worse, the man has no eyes; there are only gaping holes where they should be.

Sybele applies some psionic healing, and the man’s eyes flutter and open.  He gasps, drawing in a sharp breath, and pulls himself to his feet.  Warily, our heroes watch him.  Slowly, he raises his shaking hands to his eyeless face and a look of sorrow crosses his countenance.  He lets out a low groan and shakes his head.

“Who are you?” asks Lillamere.

Veil already knows.  She has spied the man’s name, and much more, in his mind.  She is not what she appears to be.  She listens as the man speaks, holding her peace for now.

“Von Dial,” the man croaks, cocking his head.  He seems somewhat confused.  He coughs.  Sybele hands him some water.  

”What are you doing here, in a place like this?” Rex rumbles.  “Were you intended as a sacrifice?  Was there some ritual going on?”

“Ritual...” Von Dial seems to be lost in thought for a moment.  

Veil says, “I think he was part of the ritual...”

Von Dial cries, “Ritual!  The calling!  The worm!  Oh, Chaos!  It comes, it comes... aye, the ritual.  Fnogghi, all of us together... and so terrible, so far beyond... ahhh...”  He trails off.  Our heroes exchange glances.

“Von Dial, who do you worship?” Sybele inquires gently.

“The Chaos-Bringer, Na’Rat!  Ah, what else?  And why not!  Now the worms come.  The obelisk!  Ahh, the obelisk...”

“I think he wants us to take him to an obelisk of Na’Rat,” Sybele murmurs.

“What’s that?” asks Veil.

“Oh, it’s a chaos-thing... there’s this god, Na’Rat, and he has these obelisks that are devoted to him, and if you touch one of them you gain some sort of Chaos attribute.”

“Really,” Veil muses.

Unnoticed, Gerontius cocks his head.  He couldn’t help but overhear...

***

Our heroes decide to conduct the clearly-insane Von Dial to Drelvin’s town until Horbin can tend him.  It seems unwise, at this point, to take him to an obelisk of Na’Rat; who knows what would happen!  And certainly, though Von Dial has every right to touch the obelisk (if that’s what he wants), it might be better to wait until Horbin the MFKG Holy can _heal_ him to make sure he wants to do it once he’s sane.

_*Next Time:*_ What’s Von Dial have to say once he’s sane?  Will Horbin succeed in making him sane?  And what cool magic item will the Delphinate send to our heroes?

*42 points of damage.  Ow!!  Quit sneak attacking everyone!!

**According to my notes, Inoke hit twice for 43 and Thrush hit once and critted twice (one crit alone dealt 88 hp of damage).  Sir Maxwell’s _smite evil_ was also a crit dealing 75 hp of damage.


----------



## Brain

Inoke got grappled right away pretty much, but the rest of the party came through and rescued him by slaying the worm.


----------



## hippiejedissj5

*no one suspects the guy who is 3'0 tall*

i got addicted to the halfling game, and brought a piece of it to the high lvl game.  after all where would the party be w/o some halfling sound mind. (tpk, just kidding?) i just read the tpk, wow, WOW. 

jester, the snk attcks are just starting.

i hope i don't give to much away but you'll see the halfling float like an air subtype butterfly and sting like an epic bee.

celestial monkeys rock


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## hippiejedissj5

quit sneak attacking, you really are "the jester" hah


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## Mathew_Freeman

Caught up again! You guys love to dish out the damage, and it's so much fun to read! Enjoying the long term plots too.


----------



## the Jester

_*7/24/370 O.L.G., 4:30 p.m., a small settlement on Lake Bellurnus, Dorhaus*_

Inoke, Veil and Gerontius seek out Horbin the MFKG Holy.  He is tending the community’s sick, but he comes at their call.  Sir Maxwell takes his place, ministering to whatever sprains and bruises he can and spreading Garnet’s gentle word.

The others explain to Horbin about Von Dial.  “We think he was part of this ritual that summoned this worm thing,” Inoke tells the cleric.  “And there was this prophecy we found on this giant cleric- we think he might have been behind it all, but we’re not sure.”

“Behind what all?” Horbin asks, puzzled.

“We don’t really know,” Veil answers, “but I think we’ll be seeing a lot of worms in the future.”

***

_*5 p.m., a chapel to Dexter*_

Horbin _regenerates_ Von Dial’s eyes.  The man keeps raving about worms and chaos as the cleric tends him, and when he vision returns he gives a wheedling cry.

Horbin glances at the others.  “Are you guys sure we want to restore this guy’s sanity?”

“He might know something important,” Inoke says.

Horbin nods, then casts _heal_ on the madman.  He frowns when it fails.  “That should work, unless there’s powerful magic at work,” he muses, and then prays to Dexter.  “Oh Dexter,” he invokes, “blind son of Galador, grant that your father’s Light may wash away the madness that grips this man’s mind!  Grant me this _miracle,_ I beseech you!”

And with that, Von Dial gasps and his words cut off.

“Are you okay?” asks Gerontius.

Von Dial licks his lips, then, slowly, looks around.  “How am I alive?” he whispers.  “It seemed...”  He looks at the party members gathered around him.  “Who are you?” he wonders aloud.

“You were mad,” Horbin says.  “I healed you.”

“Now, tell us who you are!” Inoke looms above the (apparently) now sane man.  “What were you doing with those giants?  What part did you play in this?!”  The warrior’s hands clench and unclench, balling into fists.  Inoke makes quite an intimidating figure.

“I thought... I thought I was dead.”  Von Dial shakes his head in confusion.  “The worm- we didn’t know what would happen, it lay about and destroyed us!”

“That’s the danger of Chaos,” quips Horbin.

“You were part of the group that summoned it,” Veil said abruptly.  “The leader was Fnogghi Chaos-Hand, that giant we killed.  I know everything.”  She grins at Von Dial.  “So you better not lie.”

Von Dial is rendered momentarily speechless, but recovers in only a few seconds.  Then he tells the group the truth (at least, as far as Veil can tell): he was a priest of Na’Rat, commanded by the far more powerful Fnogghi to aid his ritual.  It was to summon a great power of Chaos.  

“But who are you?” Von Dial wonders.

“I am Horbin the MFKG Holy,” Horbin declares, “and-“

“Horbin!” cries Von Dial, and drops to his knees and presses his forehead to the ground.  “Of course!  Only a healer of power as legendary as yours could heal a mind as shattered as mine must have been after the worm destroyed it!  Horbin, the Holy!  Horbin, the Magnificent!”

“Wow,” comments Gerontius. 

Horbin, nonplussed, starts, “Uh, I-“ 

“Horbin!” cries Von Dial, half-rising before prostrating himself again.  “Horbin, the healer!  Horbin, the holy!  Horbin!!  Your legend precedes you, sir!”

“Right,” Horbin mutters.  “Anyway, listen, what do you plan to do now?”

“I will humbly preach the word of Na’Rat, on the street,” Von Dial declares. 

“And no more summoning Far Realms creatures, okay?”

“As you command,” Von Dial replies, and genuflects again.  “Horbin!”

“Right, right,” Horbin gulps, highly embarrassed by the whole thing, “then I guess you’d best be going.”

“Yes, Horbin.  HORBIN!!!”

When the man has left, Inoke comments, “I’m not at all certain that you fully cured his madness.”

Horbin sighs.

_*Next Time:*_ A new friend from the Delphinate arrives with what may now be the party’s favorite magic item as a gift!


----------



## the Jester

A short update from Lester's player....

***

_*Taken from the journal of Orbius Visionary, aka The Eye of Bocob*_

7/24/370 O.L.G.

I spoke to Ten Buck Tom over the scry today and learned two things.  First, our companions were indeed destroyed within Bile Mountain.  This was as expected.  Second, they are all back, save Angel, due to Horbin’s skillful planning and Ten Buck Tom’s steadfast faith.  They are currently in the Delphanate and seemed to have bargained for a few pieces of equipment.  I hope Lester’s sad tale reminds them of the fate of those who sign legal documents with the Wizard Merchants there . . .

Lester return ten days ago and our preparations have kept me from writing since his arrival.  He was initially exhausted from his travels, but was lifted by the loving admiration of his followers.  I must admit, I did not tilt the probabilities of our success here towards Lester’s leadership.  Yet, he has proven to be a skillful leader.

Going back to our battle with the “Law-Bot” and Lester’s brief encounter with parenthood, it has been near a year since we left our friends.  Lester spent about half of the first year renovating our quarters and defending our borders.  (Ha!  I’m starting to sound like him already; talking in rhyme and such . . . )  The main temple area now stands four stories high with an extensive underground area.  Each temple also boasts its own separate quarters, removed from the sight of others.  (Lester wants to minimize inter-Elementalist strife, after his observations in the ToEE.)  I must say that I enjoy them all in their own way, but I am a bit partial to the Water Temple as it is in the same lake as my home.  Their watery caverns and beautiful aquatic habitat are just what I need after a long day in my laboratories.


Oh, lest I forget, the School of Adventure opened its Second Semester and all have been complementary of the recent upgrades.  New wings, Divine Arts and Stealth Arts, now have full time staff members as well as nearly double digit attendance.  Combat Arts upgraded their outdoor practice field with assorted artillery and exotic weaponry; their presence ever reassuring given the Evil that sometimes invades us.  Arcane Arts now boast a very decent 3 story tower, with a fully functional laboratory and sizeable library.  Acererak’s collections, and my lugubrious use of the Copy spell, have resulted in a learning facility that is unparalleled in all of Dorhaus.  Sadly, my extensive research and crafting of items has reduced my teaching allowance.  I can only make time for the occasional seminar or lecture.

Note to Self:  Offer Keyth tenure, and let him name the price.  The Dimentionalist’s help will be invaluable!  

Ah, the School of Adventure is truly Lester’s pride and joy.  Our strategy of dispatching him to aid groups of selected Adventurers across all of Cydra has greatly aided his recruitment efforts and our overall goals.  He brought 4 more back with him this time, including a Tabaxi, Meow-San, from the Kingdom of Hobbes.  Moreover, our work has served to cement his name as The Angel of Adventure.  It warms my heart to know that his guidance is making those who walk in our footsteps more confident in their abilities and more daring in their deeds.  I can sense that Lester is on the verge of some realization that will cause a ground-swell of momentum for us and bring Adventurers from all parts of Cydra to learn from us.

Note to self:  Sending Stones are working wonderfully.  It took a bit of extra time, but we now have 3 Stones that are invaluable to Lester in his aid of Adventurers.

I am nearly spent from over two years of teaching, research, craftsmanship, and observation of others.  Yet, it renews me to know that our friends once again walk Cydra and our preparations have not been in vain.  Several of my recent spells will greatly aid us against the Bile Lords when we repeat our assaults.  It pains me to think of the price that we may have to pay for their annihilation, but they are an enemy that will never let us rest.  In particular, my Bile Shield and Extricate Bile spells will be of great advantage.  Lester’s one spell, the only I’ve ever seen him craft since knowing him, taxes him more than any other, but will be able to rid much of the pollution from Bile Mountain.  

I greatly hope that our friends will listen to our plan to end the War of Ethics.  Morality must be the victor if peace and freedom are to rule Cydra.  We must reach out to Emperor Prayzose and wrest his empire from the clutches of Evil and Chaos.  If we do not act, Evil will soon pervert its covenant with the Good aspects of Law, and a tyranny like no other will sweep across the Planes of Existence.  I do not relish the thought of ultimately ending the rampant spread of Chaos, but it must be done.  The Good aspects of Chaos aim to let everyone be as free and happy as possible, while the Evil aspects seek to destroy and dominate.  The Middle Way of Chaos is blind to it own destruction, so we must sacrifice the Good to halt the ambivalent destruction of our lands.

In a few more weeks, we will be finished with our preparations and go off to see our friends.  Oh, Jezebel, how I long to see your silvery gaze again!  I must be patient, though, as Lester’s activities will have significant impact on our course of action.  Until then, I will rest easy knowing that my love now exists again, and I shall not fail to protect her this time!


----------



## Brain

*character thread link*

I made a thread  for the posting of characters from Cydra if anybody wants to look at them or post their own Cydra character there.


----------



## the Jester

_*7/24/370 O.L.G., 7:00 p.m., Spell, the Delphinate*_

“I told you it would work,” the wizard says, beaming a smile at her companion.  “321 has checked out fully.  It doesn’t exceed its programming, but it shows amazing intellect and magical potential.  I hear even the Delphin himself had a hand in its programming.”

“Well, they took him off already for his first briefing,” the other replies.  “We’ve done well- I suspect there may come some notable rewards...”  He smiles, thinking of certain books he has hungered to study for quite some time... books sealed away against theft or misuse, allowed only to the most trusted of the Delphinate’s wizards...

“I don’t know why you insist on calling it ‘him,’ Davan.”  She shakes her head.  “It’s just a construct.”

***

_*8 p.m., a small settlement on the edges of Lake Bellurnus, Dorhaus*_

Warforged Prototype Number 14789-321 appears near Horbin suddenly, without a sound.  Our heroes are at the local tavern, discussing what they should do next.  Horbin is very worried about the prophecy they found on the giant.  “Are these going to be worms, or dragons?” he wonders.  “And either way, they’re a threat to the people of Dorhaus.”

But when the warforged appears suddenly, hands reach for weapons and spell component pouches.  Any sudden entrance by a weird construct of metal and ceramic is bound to provoke our somewhat paranoid heroes into a response of some kind, after all.  But the construct speaks quickly, in a tinny voice.

“I am Warforged Prototype Number 14789-321.  I have come to offer Horbin the MFKG Holy a gift from the Delphinate.”

The voice of the warforged is flat and emotionless.  Beneath its robes clicking and whirring sounds emerge as it moves.  It does not make any threatening moves.

“I’m Horbin,” announces the cleric.

“The Delphinate offers you guidance,” the warforged announces.  “We believe that you know where to strike a pivotal blow in the War of Ethics.”

“Huh?”


”We wish to encourage you to overthrow the Bastion of Law.”

“The Bastion of Law...”  Horbin leans back in his chair and takes a pull from his mug.  He remembers...

_Long years ago*... on his earlier travels, when he journeyed with an orc.  They were somewhere... where were they?  Somewhere far flung... the party found themselves looking at what appears to be an interesting fortress standing tall before what was an obviously well-worn battleground. There were no trees on the field, no grass; it showed the signs of many a recent battle. The fortress was walled, with a moat and a symmetrical layout. After some discussion, the party decided to send a scout in. Sith, the orcish wizard-warrior, rendered himself invisible and flying, and shortly flew in over the walls.

The rest of the party hung out off the field of battle and waited. After about half an hour they noticed some dust on the horizon: it looked like a large band of approaching creatures. The party wasn’t too worried just yet; they could always retreat, right? All they had to do is wait for Sith to return.

A large red winged flying reptilian form came out of the advancing army, which the party couldn’t quite make out yet, but they could tell it was a large force. And the dragon seemed to fly over the fortress, then swooped in and breathed a huge gout of fire on the wall... leaving a few scorches on it, but not much. It swung around for another pass, then returned to the oncoming army.

The party was now officially becoming worried about Sith. He’d been gone about an hour, and it looked like this big-ass army coming towards the fortress he was scouting was planning to attack it. Not a good thing to be caught in the middle of- especially because it seemed as though there are a lot of different big things in the army. Giants, demon and angel looking things both.... what was going on here?

Then, suddenly, a pair of humanoid frogs appeared from out of nowhere! The party reacted, scrambling for weapons, but the slaadi croaked that they were here to ask for help.

“That,” they explained, gesturing to the fortress, “is the Bastion of Law. Every week there’s a great battle between the forces of Law and Chaos here, and there is destined to be a stalemate. None of the forces here can swing the battle. Only outside intervention can do that. We want your help. Sneak in, open the gates- and the forces of Chaos can be victorious at last!”

The slaadi departed. The party immediately fell into a vigorous debate. “I’m not getting involved in this,” Anvar maintained, and Krunkshank agreed. Most of the rest were chaotic through and through, but none of them are suicidal. Still, they were becoming worried about Sith, and it looked like another army was marching in from the hills to the side of the fortress. Another chaos army? Nobody could tell just yet. Meanwhile, the Bastion’s army of Law was also drawing up into ranks, issuing forth from the fortress.

The party’s debate was growing heated when Sith returned, visible but still flying. He claimed that the party’s best interests would be served by staying out of this mess. They decided to just watch the battle take place, and take place it did. Angelic figures clashed with each other, some serving chaos, some serving law. Dragons, giants, humanoids of all sorts, bizarre monsters they’ve never seen- an incredible battle soon developed, with quarter neither asked for not given on either side. The party moved a few times as it got closer to them, and once an angel with a flying sword came close enough to warn them to stay out of it. They did, never stopping to wonder why Sith has urged them to do so as well.

As night falls the battle still raged, and another debate sprang up among them: what to do next. After some discussion they decided to keep heading on their way and hope to find either a waterway to follow or a town. The group circled around the battlefield, leaving the eternal conflict behind._

“Where the hell _was_ it?” Horbin mutters to himself, annoyed.

“Our gift,” announces the warforged, and hands Horbin a box.  “It is a _portable store._  It unfolds into a door into an extradimensional space that provides access to a network of Delphinite shops and stores through a shopkeeper.”

Horbin turns the wooden box over in his hands.  Warily, he pulls as the edges.  It snaps open, doubling in size.  He pulls the edges again and it snaps further open, doubling again.  Now it is the size of a window.  One more time and it achieves its full size.  

“Wow,” breathes Horbin. 

***

_*Outside on the street*_

Veil approaches Von Dial.  The man’s eyes have returned, and a certain degree of lucidity, but he seems to have given himself over to the mad faith of Na’Rat.  How sane can such a one truly be?  Now he raves on the streets, preaching to those who will listen.  

Veil is one such.  In her female elven form, Veil observes the man for some time.

“I am the obelisk alive!” Von Dial rants.  “Chaos comes, and we must accept its touch!  What will transpire will transpire; we must ride the currents to pleasantries!  No man can predict!”

When he pauses to draw breath, Veil interjects, “Sir, I am curious about this Na’Rat you speak so much of.  Perhaps you could tell me more?”

The man’s thoughts are a chaotic mess, almost distasteful to look through.

Von Dial cackles gleefully.  “Na’Rat, the Chaos-Bringer!  He rides the world!  Forgotten for eons, but returned to awareness with his obelisks!  And now I am an obelisk alive.”  His voice drops to a gloating whisper.

“What does that mean?  Truly, sir, this Na’Rat intrigues me.”  Veil smiles prettily at the preacher.

“Would you feel his touch?”  

“Well... yes... that is...”

And Von Dial touches her.  With an almost palpable shock, Veil realizes that she’s _changed_ in some way- she isn’t certain how.  But something has happened... something within her has reconfigured itself. 

“What did you do?” she asks, amazed.

“I?  I did nothing.  It was _Na’Rat_ who acts- he brings Chaos!”  Von Dial chortles.

“But...”  Veil pauses.  _Nothing happened that’s visible, but something did indeed happen.  Was it good?  Bad?  How can I know?_  “Can you tell me what happened to me?” 

“You received a gift.  As to its nature, that I cannot say.”

“Can... can I have another?”

***

Our heroes rest and party for a few days.

Lillamere, tired of living in a community without the decency to even have a name, tells the local officials- as Drelvin’s nephew- that the town is now called Brelana, named after Drelvin’s mother.

Veil seems to be absent from the group’s favored spot- the tavern- for nearly the entire day.  She is watching Von Dial preach and receiving more gifts from Na’Rat.  When she returns in the evening, steam is coming out of her ears, but she otherwise looks normal.  That can’t last, as she has been begging to be touched as much as Von Dial will permit.

One evening, Horbin, frustrated by his inability to remember where the damned Bastion of Law was, issues a _sending_ to one of his old adventuring friends from that period- Clambake, sometimes called Captain Clambake.  _I’m seeking the Bastion of Law- how do I find it?_ he sends.

_Go north,_ comes the reply.  _The Serpent’s Tail.  Good luck._

“Ah, of course,” Horbin breathes.

“If you have ascertained the location,” Proto (as the group has taken to calling the warforged) remarks, “I urge you to strike decisively.”

Horbin mulls it over.  He doesn’t want to be heavily involved in the War of Ethics.  But the Delphinate has given him a mighty gift; he owes them at least a look at the site.

“We’ll check it out,” he says gravely.

_*Next Time:*_ The Bastion of Law!

*Anyone reading about the earlier adventures of Horbin, Clambake, etc. can check it out here.


----------



## Sandain

Can you please remind me what MFKG stands for?


----------



## the Jester

Sandain said:
			
		

> Can you please remind me what MFKG stands for?




Er, not really.  

Stick an 'other' after the M, a 'uc' after the F, and an 'in' after the K. 

I think Horbin's player came up with the MFKG 'abbreviation' to make it more appropriate to say when treating with easily offended npcs.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Bumpin' for an Update*

Bump


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Bump




Now that the holidays are over I'll have more time to write.  Expect updates fairly soon to all three story hour threads- prolly do the Early Years first, once I can fact-check with Aaron and/or Craig.


----------



## the Jester

*To the Isle of Battle*

The cosmos is like a body.  It sprawls in ways unimaginable to a cell within it.  The many planes are like different orders or structure within the body- think, perhaps, of the astral plane as the body’s nerves, the ethereal as the body’s blood, the inner planes as the skeleton, the outer planes as the flesh.  It is an imperfect simile, but it is useful for making an example in this case.

But if the cosmos is like a body, can it get sick?  And if germs attack it, where can they be from?  If the multiverse is the body attacked, _what is outside?_

The holes the worms are using are like cankers on the lips of the cosmos.  They swarm like germs, burrowing through the heart of reality to emerge in Cydra.  

The ormrs, awakened decades ago when their obelisk was unearthed on Pesh, have been sending forth cautious expeditions time and again, probing the upper world to see what is out there.  Now their great master slithers forth to implore these new, primal worms to aid them in bringing back the glory of Na’Rat.

Na’Rat, the Chaos-Bringer.  Na’Rat, the Worm-Wright.

***
_*7/30/370 O.L.G., 2 p.m., over the island chain called the Serpent’s Tail, far to the north*_

In the vaporous form provided by a _wind walk_ spell, our heroes whip through the sky at extraordinary speeds, Horbin in the lead.  His _find the path_ spell will lead them to where they must go.

The Isle of Battle.  

Proto, as the warforged calls itself, _teleported_ the group first to Balramamos, then to Dorla (where they encountered an extraordinarily foul-mouthed harbor mistress named Bentricle, who appeared to know Horbin from years ago).  Then Horbin took over, for none of them knew exactly where they were going, even though Horbin had been there before, years past.

Below the group, the sea churns and spray constantly lashes the air.  The waters here are shallow, too shallow for most boats.  The Serpent’s Tail is extremely dangerous for ships; Horbin remembers being here before, years ago, and escaping only with the aid of a captured ship of steel.  But that was long ago, and his powers have grown. 

Horbin smiles.  His _find the path_ will serve the group well.  He can already feel it leading him down, to an island a few miles distant.  And at this speed, a few miles is only a few minutes.

Whizzing over the Isle of Battle, the party sees a few small villages on the rocky coast, but no real sign of ships.  They can see the great battle itself, though.  Great masses of troops, arrayed in neat lines, push hard against a chaotic horde.  Men, elves, dwarves, angelic figures, devils and more are arrayed against similar stock.  Even a few dragons seem to be on each side.  

“Impressive,” comments Inoke as the left wing of the dwarven army of Law collides with a regiment of trolls and giants.  The carnage is terrible.

Looming above the battlefield is a fortress flying the banner of Law.  Thick walls, bristling with defenders, seem to dare the forces of Chaos to approach.  Great war machines within the walls hurl stones and great barrels of oil into the enemy lines.  

“The Bastion of Law,” says Proto dramatically, but in a tinny voice

“What the hell are we doing here?” asks Veil.  Steam rises from his ears.  The touch of Chaos is strong upon him.

“Good question,” Horbin mutters.

“My masters at the Delphinate believe this is the pivotal battle.  They seem to think that you would know what to do.”

“I don’t even really want to be involved in all this,” Horbin answers.

“No kidding!” Gerontius inserts.

“If you do not strike at Law, you are simply giving them the initiative,” Proto retorts.  “Some would say the Great War of Ethics is about nothing, but it is really about principles and the right to have your own way of life.  Forinthia will take that away.”

Horbin sighs.  “But _how?_  What do we do to make a difference here?”

“Maybe the citadel has to fall,” offers Inoke.

“Or maybe we can take out the main general of the Lawful army,” suggests Veil.

“Hmm... or snatch him and make him negotiate,” Horbin muses.

***

_*The Abyss*_

Oh, yes, Chaos is strongly upon him.

Law has a lot invested in this, thinks the demon prince Graz’zt.  Chaos- well, Chaos never moves as one.  The episode with the fleet was an interesting anomaly, one that he would love to see repeated.  

He smiles a sly smile; the smile of a cat who just drank the milk out of your cereal bowl.  He taps his twelve fingers together, steeples them, then jumps up and paces back and forth.  He looks again at the pool holding Veil’s image.  

They will be in the right place, at the right time; to do some Very Great Things for Chaos.  They may be able to slay one of the accursed Arrows of Law.  Graz’zt has foreseen it.  Which one, he cannot say; but... surely that is a cause worth aiding.

And, of course, in doing so he will aid his own cause as well.

Graz’zt causes the _shield of Graz’zt_ to be brought forth.  It is a circular shield of heavy black iron, and spiked through the palm to the boss is a six-fingered hand.  As Graz’zt watches, it twitches.  He smiles that sly smile again and turns back to the scrying pool.

_*Next Time:*_ Aggressive negotiations with the Army of Law!


----------



## the Jester

*Aggressive Diplomacy*

_*7/30/370 O.L.G., 4:00 p.m., at the rear of the Army of Law on the Field of Battle before the Bastion of Law*_

The negotiations begin suddenly and viciously.  A _reverse gravity_ cast by Proto gets things off to a nice start, but the General of Law and his guards show themselves to be formidable opponents when approached physically and magically.  Thrush cuts down quite a few of the general’s elite guard before things smooth out.  The whole time Horbin is trying to talk sense, and things finally settle into a tense parlay, with weapons sheathed but hands ready.  

Horbin attempts to persuade General Strictis- who is clearly Galadorian- to help end the battle once and for all.  “By surrendering?” the General asks, amazed at the cleric’s audacity.  It is out of the question, of course.  All the pleading and persuasion the group can muster avails them not a whit.  None of their reasons seem to hit home with the general; he maintains the strictest devotion to duty.  “I will never surrender to Chaos,” he reiterates again and again.

“I don’t serve Chaos, I serve _good,_” Horbin protests.  “You and your army, on the other hand, are consorting with devils!”

“Even devils may serve the Light,” General Strictis responds.  “All things do Galador’s bidding.  And your side consorts with demons.”

“Not _me,_” Horbin retorts emphatically.  “I’m against demons.  In fact, we’d be more likely to kill a demon than talk to it.”

“Oh?”

“We would even kill a demon for you, as a token of our good nature,” Horbin offers.

General Strictis laughs grimly.  “Oh, I’ve a demon for you to kill, all right.  Kill Graz’zt.  He is one of the mightiest of all demons, and he’s caused difficulties for us before and no doubt will again.”

“Graz’zt!” exclaims Sybele.

”I don’t think that’s a good idea,” intones Proto.  “And what would you do in return?”

“Not surrender, surely?” Sybele inquires hopefully.  Indeed not.

“It doesn’t really matter,” she grumbles.  “Even if Chaos takes this Bastion of Law here, they’ll just go form a new one somewhere else, right?”  She looks at General Strictis, who says nothing. 

The negotiations continue for some time, with the Army of Law providing the hospitality prescribed by the rules of parlay.  After a time, our heroes leave, frustrated in their inability to make a change in the attitudes of the servants of Law.

“I don’t know how much time we should spend here,” Horbin mutters.  “I don’t see what good we can do.”

“My programming tells me,” the warforged wizard named Proto declares in a tinny voice, “that my masters in the Delphinate believe that this battle is pivotal.”

“But they fight the same fight every day!” Horbin protests.  “Day after day, the same thing... and it never changes.”

“Then we must change it,” Proto replies.

“What happens to the bodies?” asks Drelvin.

“Good question,” Horbin muses.  “They were gone by morning, but...”

“We should search some for loot!” exclaims Gerontius.

“Good idea,” Jezebel nods, feeling a genetic disposition towards hoarding even at her young age.*  “Tonight, after the battle is over, let’s take a look.”

“You know we aren’t the first to think of this, right?”  Drelvin gives the party a sardonic grin.  “An army _always_ has scavengers.”

***

_*8:50 p.m., near the Field of Battle*_

That night a fog springs up.  With the stars cloaked by the fog, our heroes make their way to the field of battle, soaked in blood and littered with the dead.  As they approach, Gerontius shushes them and cocks his head intently, listening to something.  Then he shrugs.  “Something’s moving out there,” he whispers.

The group loosens their weapons, and soon they can see the source of the noise: strange constructs, covered in nasty spikes, moving around the battlefield.  They pick up the bodies and impale them on their spikes.**

“Gruesome, but effective,” Inoke comments.  Thrush grunts.  

The party loots a few bodies, but nothing of real worth turns up.  They debate whether or not it would be a good idea to attack one of the strange cadaver collectors.  But when Horbin hears a moan from a body on one of them, his decision is made.  Growing pale, he cries, “There’s someone still alive on one of them!”

A furious battle ensues.  Several of the constructs, including a really humungous one, join the fray, and they are certainly formidable opponents; but in the end, the combination of Drelvin, Thrush and Inoke is overwhelming.  Somewhere in the middle of the battle, unable to harm the monsters significantly, Gerontius pulls out some rations and starts eating- just like a halfling, wouldn’t you know!

Afterwards, the man stuck to the construct proves dead by now, but at least no more mortally wounded men will be stuck to those particular monsters!

The group then retires, setting watches and settling down to sleep for the night.

_*Next Time:*_ Graz’zt drops by for a chat!


*Remember, Jezebel is a half-dragon- Sybele’s half-dragon love child, to be precise, by way of the steel dragon Kel, in an event from Sybele’s earlier history that has yet to be chronicled (the Hatching Cave episode).  She’s presently about 17-18 years old.

**This game was played the day the _Monster Manual 3_ came out.   These constructs are a _fantastic_ monster in the MM3- the cadaver collector.  I couldn’t resist the opportunity...


----------



## the Jester

*A Chat With a Demon Prince*

_*8/1/370 O.L.G., 2 a.m., near the Field of Battle*_

Deep in the trance that is his peoples’ equivalent of sleep, the mind of Drelvin the Archer tosses and turns.  His dreams are... tainted.  A presence seems to have shouldered its way into his head.  A dark-skinned, extraordinarily handsome face centers itself in the archer’s dream.  A smile like the slash of a blade across a neck; delicately pointed teeth, like a baby piranha’s.  Long, six-fingered hands steeple together, delicate as glass flowers.  

Drelvin has met many powerful evil entities in his time- even gods.  He has slain more dragons than anyone else alive in Cydra, and that is no hyperbole.  He has met and defeated the devil Mezzoloch, traitor to his own kind.  He has brought down a gargantuan.  He has gotten away with snarling at the god of cowardice and rape.  

But never has a gaze filled him with such disquiet.

The others, he knew, were enemies.  This one... this one smiles, beneficially.  And he asks Drelvin a question.

_Would you champion Chaos?_ 

It echoes and reverberates through the archer’s mind and soul.  There is a sweet promise in the question; it is an _offer_ as well as a task.  Something hazy, some weird offering, seems behind the question.

No, Drelvin thinks to himself, I won’t.  This whole affair of Law vs. Chaos is _stupid._  It serves no purpose.  It’s not about territory, or money, or even really religion- though that’s getting closer.  Whatever the hell it’s all about, Drelvin wants no part of it. 

He wakes up suddenly.  Shaking, he looks around wildly.  Proto is on guard; faithfully watching for trouble; and none is apparent.  Taking a deep breath, the archer settles back into his trance.

***

_*10 a.m.*_

Gerontius sighs and stretches.  “Now _that_ was breakfast,” he says happily, then frowns.  Sybele seems... distracted.  And she mumbles to herself for a moment, as if-

“Hey, guys,” she blurts, “I think we’re being watched by someone.  Someone powerful, on the side of Chaos.  We may have a visitor.”

Veil glances at her, full of interest.  

“I just received a _sending,_” she continues, “asking if I wanted to become a champion of Chaos.”

“I thought you already were,” comments Lillamere.

“No, I’m a _warrior_ of Chaos.*  It’s different.  I guess.”  She shrugs.  “I guess I don’t really know, but hey, whatever.”

“I had a dream last night,” Drelvin says, “that I think might be connected.”  When he describes the figure from his dream, Horbin purses his lips grimly.

“That sounds like Graz’zt,” the cleric groans.

“Where do I know that name from?” asks Gerontius.

”That’s the demon prince that the general wants us to kill,” Horbin sighs.

“Oh.”  The halfling considers for a moment.  “Sounds like a bad idea, if he wants to help us out.”

“It sounds to me,” says Lillamere, “like both sides are playing for our support.”

“We could see who has more to offer!” Gerontius suggests.

_”We’re not joining anyone,”_ Horbin states firmly.  “Or at least, I’m not.  I’m certainly not a fan of the forces of Law, but I can’t fight against Forinthia.”**

“So what did you tell him?” Lillamere asks Sybele, but before she has a chance to answer our heroes have a visitor.

“Greetings,” comes a voice.  Everyone turns to see him there, just a few score feet away.  He smiles: Graz’zt, demon prince and Lord of Chaos.  He stands, beautiful and aloof, with that smile- is it mocking?- lingering on his lips like an aftertaste.  

“Begone, demon!” cries Horbin.

“Peace,” Graz’zt says soothingly.  “I mean no harm.  I bring you gifts.”

“We want no gifts from your kind!” the cleric retorts.

“Gifts?” asks Gerontius.

Graz’zt glances away from Horbin at the halfling.  He nods respectfully.  “Indeed.  Great gifts, and great power- should you choose to accept it.”

“Can we change our mind later?” asks Sybele cheerily.

“No.”

“Oh.  Well, that just seemed kinda chaotic to me...”

Graz’zt, sweet as a kitten, hands out some highly unusual arrows.  They aren’t even close to straight, but he assures them that they will fly true.***  He clearly favors Sybele; possibly because she is a warrior of Chaos already.

“Would you accept the mantle of a Champion of Chaos?” the demon prince demands.

“I’ll think it over,” she replies blithely. 

Graz’zt’s eyes sweep over the group.  “You are strongly allied with Chaos, and have powerful enemies on the side of Law.  You are fools if you believe that you do not need aid.”

Horbin cries, “Not the aid of demons!”

Graz’zt sighs.  “No, Horbin the MFKG Holy, not the aid of demons at all.  The aid of _Chaos._  Just because we have our philosophical differences does not mean that we cannot have common interests.  Look at your long friendship with Sheva and Angelfire.”  Horbin stiffens.  “Certainly you are not- and probably never were- friends; but you traveled together for long months and years and worked together against common foes.  That is all I suggest.”

“Let’s get to the point,” Lillamere interjects.  “What do you want from us?  Specifically?”

“Nothing at all,” Graz’zt answers sincerely.

Our heroes absorb this for a moment.  “Nothing at all?” demands Inoke.  “What does that mean?  Nothing at all, or nothing until you have something you need?”

“It means nothing at all.  I will demand no recompense, ever.  I wish you to continue as you are.  If you do so, our foes will remain common and you will aid my cause, whether you realize it or no.  And I... encourage any of you that wish to to champion Chaos.  Should any of you do so” -that smile again- “I have a special gift.”

“But at what cost?” Drelvin snorts.  “No matter what you say, I know there’s a cost.”

“Not to mention that Chaos is _dangerous,_” adds Horbin.

Graz’zt shrugs.  “So is passion.  Would you live without it?”

“I’ll do it,” Veil says suddenly.  “I’ll be the champion you seek.”

Graz’zt smiles broadly, showing his teeth, and says, _”Good,”_, and suddenly there’s a whirling, overwhelming giddiness that tears at Veil until he gives a warbling cry of mixed wonder, pleasure and shock.  Then Veil is shaking, giving off purple-green smoke; and Graz’zt, with a nod, hands him the shield.

It’s a heavy shield with a hand spiked to it.  Veil stares at it mutely for a moment, then bows; then, taking it a step further, he bows. 

“Farewell,” Graz’zt says.  “You will go on to great things.”

“What do you mean, great things?” asks Inoke, but the demon is gone.  

“Nice guy,” comments Veil.  Horbin looks at him like he’s crazy.

_*Next Time:*_ Back to the ruins of Ostraghan!  There’s lots more going on there, that’s for sure!


*Warrior of Chaos is a prestige class in my campaign.

**A long time ago, our heroes found themselves at the Battle of Pesh, when an immense fleet of Chaos vessels attacked a major concentration of Forinthian forces laying siege to Pesh City.  Horbin received a pretty unmistakable signal that he was erring in his ways when his spells failed to take effect against Forinthian forces.  A _commune_ later confirmed that he was not to attack them.

***iirc, these were _+2 anarchic arrows._


----------



## the Jester

*Return to the Ruins of Ostraghan*

_*8/2/370 O.L.G., Brelana, Dorhaus*_

Quietly, without telling Drelvin, Lillamere has given the small community on Lake Bellurnus, near the ruins of Ostraghan, a name.  It is now called Brelana, named after Drelvin’s mother.  Word has spread among the folks of the settlement, and now they all refer to their home as Brelana.  Amazing what a 30+ charisma can do, virtually overnight, in a village.

Veil continues to visit Von Dial, the Living Obelisk, and Von Dial continues to touch him, gifting him with yet more Chaos.  When the mindspy journeys down the streets towards him today, however, she finds a pair of men of Forinthian extraction intently watching the raving man from across the street.  Veil hurries to fetch the party, and Rex puts on a good show of intimidating the men, who claim just to be refugees.  

“If they were spies,” Inoke says later, “they had pretty bad spy costumes.  Forinthians disguised as Forinthians?”

Who knows.  

***

_*8/3/370 O.L.G.*_ 

The party determines to return to Ostraghan’s ruins and investigate further.  Lillamere has asked around and gathered rumors, and it seems that the ruins may hold a number of interesting features.  “There was a great wizard in Ostraghan at the end,” Drelvin’s nephew says, “and an academy of spearmen... also, it was said during Fuligin’s attack on Dorhaus that a great general of evil went into a temple of Galador and never emerged.  It’s possible that it is still in there, bound or something.”

Drelvin frowns.  “I’m a little worried about those Forinthians we saw yesterday,” he states.  “Maybe we should leave a couple people behind just in case.”  The party discusses this, and Drelvin ends up appointing Thrush sheriff of Brelana.  N’Sari, Lillamere’s sister, remains with him as his deputy.  The others head into the ruins, _wind walking_ the few miles there in minutes.

The group resolidifies just outside the ruins.  As they head in, they encounter a wounded adventurer with a broken leg, which Horbin heals.  Gratefully, the man tells them that he had been wounded badly in a fight with giants a few days ago- before our heroes destroyed Fnogghi Chaos-Hand and his band.

“Seen any worms?” asks Horbin, but the man has not.  He has, however, seen an intriguing huge locked portal.  “Our wizard advised us not to open it,” he tells the party.  “He said that it sealed away some kind of nasty creature.”  Our heroes exchange glances; obviously they must investigate.

Following the man’s directions, our heroes reach a ruined tower.  Searching around the fallen stones of the fallen edifice, the group rapidly locates a half-buried metal portal, chased and set with bits of both adamantine and orichalcum.  Carefully examining it, Orbius notes eldritch runes scribed along its perimeter.  He tells the others, “I think this holds a terrible creature called a madrey.”

“What’s that?” asks Drelvin.

“Some kind of legendary monster that is usually held behind a powerful magical seal,” the divine oracle replies ironically.  “But nobody’s ever seen one, at least in the last few thousand years, and so I don’t know anything to speak of about them, except that they’re very dangerous.”

“Look,” Drelvin the Archer calls, “I found a half-dissolved plaque!”

Indeed, about twenty yards away a large area seems to have suffered damage from some sort of corrosive.  Warped by whatever it was exposed to, the plaque bears words, but only part of the message on the plaque is readable:

...SE THE MADREY...GAZE OF MADNESS... DANGER TO ALL... LAMPREY OR WORM.

“Worms,” Horbin breathes.

“Does this tie into that damned prophecy?” exclaims Veil.  Suddenly the hand on the shield Graz’zt gave him twitches, and his jaw drops.

“That’s...”  Horbin is speechless. 

“Does it talk to you?” Inoke asks.

“What?”  Veil looks at him.  

The swarthy man repeats, “Does it talk to you?  The shield?”

“No, I mean, not that I know of... not so far...”

_Do you mind if I tell them about you?_ Inoke thinks.

_Do you trust them?

Yes.

Go ahead._

“My helmet talks to me, sometimes.  In my head,” Inoke says.  “It’s what taught me to be a warmind.”

The group stares at Inoke’s cat-shaped helmet.  “Interesting,” says Orbius, “but we must stay focused here.  We may be facing a terrible monster!”

“It sounds like it has a gaze attack,” Drelvin comments.  “Whatever this thing is, I think we should kill it.  I don’t want it on my land.”

“Should we open the seal?  Right now it’s sealed away,” Lillamere points out.

Drelvin snorts in disdain.  “Until someone comes along and Lesters it up.  We can’t let this thing just sit here waiting for one of our enemies to come turn it loose on us.”

“That’s a good point,” Inoke says.  “Let’s slay this thing.  Surely we’re powerful enough to do so.”

The group looks at the portal.  It looks stoutly sealed.

“Maybe I can open it,” Inoke offers, and throws his back into it.  He grunts in surprise at the strength of its resistance, and his muscles bulge as he redoubles his efforts.  It’s still not enough- not nearly enough.  With a roar, Inoke flies into a rage.  An inarticulate noise emanates from the warmind as adrenaline rushes through his system, and slowly, the door begins to inch open.  


_*Next Time:*_ Against the madrey!


----------



## Sandain

Could we please have a quick class and level update for your current group please?

Last we heard;

Lillamere, elven sorcerer 18 (CG)
Sir Maxwell Norrington, human paladin 13/knight of the chalice 6 (LG)
Sybele (fighter 8/psion 11/warrior of chaos 3) (CG)
Inoke (barbarian 2/psychic warrior 2/fighter 4/warmind 10) (NG)
Kagera (monk 19, now deceased) (LN)
Rex (monk 5/tattooed monk 1/sorcerer 1/dragon disciple 11/ranger 1/fighter 1/half-dragon paragon 1) (LN)
Veil Raybender (actually a doppelganger, though our heroes don’t yet know it; doppelganger fighter 5/mindspy 5) (CN)

And of course the npcs:

Jezebel (half-dragon rogue 5/sorcerer 7/arcane trickster 1)
N’Sari (fighter 6/sorcerer 1/arcane archer 9)
Thrush (fighter 23)


----------



## the Jester

Sandain said:
			
		

> Could we please have a quick class and level update for your current group please?




At the present point in the SH it's still right about the same... though I do believe I left out Horbin the MFKG Holy, cleric 22/CG.  Once the party has finished up another session or two I'll update the list again.


----------



## Sandain

I forget, what happened to Lester and Orbius?


----------



## the Jester

Sandain said:
			
		

> I forget, what happened to Lester and Orbius?




They left in the middle of Bile Mountain.  In game, this was because Lester needed to spend some time putting his affairs in order at the Temple of Elemental Good.  Out of game, the reason was because his player was having a baby, and was sadly anticipating not having enough time to game for a while.

Thankfully, he's back!  He plays Proto at the present point in the story hour.


----------



## Krafus

Hello, Jester. I just finished reading this story hour in a marathon reading session. I always like to read about epic-level parties - the battles are big, lots of spells flying around, and often big consequences hinging on the outcome of what the players do.


----------



## the Jester

Krafus said:
			
		

> Hello, Jester. I just finished reading this story hour in a marathon reading session. I always like to read about epic-level parties - the battles are big, lots of spells flying around, and often big consequences hinging on the outcome of what the players do.




I'm glad you've enjoyed it so far!  And trust me on this, the ride just keeps getting wilder...   Our heroes are, currently, about a dozen games or thereabouts ahead of the story hour, and they're changing the face of the universe.


----------



## the Jester

*The Madrey*

Beyond the great seal is a vast room, dark and deep.  The walls are unworked stone, rough and jagged.  The illumination spilling from our heroes’ various magical sources of light glimmers ahead and below, for a great pool of water lies before the group. 

Weapons at the ready, our heroes move towards the edge of the water.  Warily, Veil keeps his new shield at the ready.  She reaches down and picks up a loose stone, then casts it in the water with a _plop._  In seconds the water starts to churn and move.

Horbin casts a quickened _righteous might,_ growing dramatically, and grips his spear.  Rex _enlarges_ himself as well, and Inoke _expands_ to huge size.  Drelvin ties a blindfold on, calling out, “Don’t forget, it probably has some kind of madness gaze!”  

“I’ll try to do something about that- but be ready to close your eyes!” Lillamere warns.  

Then it surfaces, a huge lamprey with weird eyes lining its body along the flanks all the way down its body.  Its mouth looks like it could cover an entire cow.  The thing is only half-revealed from the water, but it looms up like a 30’ long serpent.  

Then Lillamere’s _sunburst_ explodes, a tremendous glare blazing through the darkness of the cave.  The madrey gives out a tremendous squeal and rushes forward, chomping down on Inoke, trying to get a grip sufficient to drain blood; but with a mighty cry, the swarthy warmind throws the huge monster off of him. 

Then Horbin grimly cries, “Ancient evil!  Your time has come to be purged in the name of Dexter!  You have been judged and found wanting!!”  And with that, with a single _destruction_ spell, Horbin the MFKG Holy reduces the madrey to ash.*

“That wasn’t so bad,” comments Veil from behind her shield.  The hand spiked to it twitches.  

Searching the pool, our heroes find a small amount of treasure.  In one of the dry corners of the chamber Drelvin turns up a book that radiates magic, so after the group emerges into the waning sunlight Lillamere casts _legend lore_ and a snatch of verse comes to mind that seems to indicate that it increases one’s health and vitality.

By the time the party is ready to continue on, dark has fallen.  They briefly debate waiting for morning, but rapidly agree that there’s no need.  They are adventurers; they’ve traipsed through the darkness of the lost city of Moil.  This is nothing Horbin’s holy symbol (flickering with _continual flame_) can’t take care of for them.

“Let’s check out that old wizard’s tower I heard about,” urges Lillamere.  “Maybe there’s something interesting in there!”

They move through the ruins of Ostraghan to the tower of the great wizard who had inhabited it at the time of its fall.  With any luck, there is tremendous magic waiting to be discovered within- perhaps forgotten spells, maybe lost magic items, potions... pulse quickening, our heroes burst in the door and immediately confront a strange golem, but it falls to Rex, Drelvin and Inoke.  The others find their magicks ineffective against it, but no matter; the battle is over in seconds. 

The interior of the tower reeks of strange fumes.  Drelvin suggests wrapping cloth across their noses, and the party does; but even so, they are all light-headed by the time they pick their way through the shambles of the lower level to the central staircase that leads up.  Above, the fumes are even worse.  Parts of the walls are discolored and stained by weird chemicals.  The level consists of a ring-shaped hallway surrounding two rooms.  One of these is a library, where the group gains another magical book and a small collection of scrolls.  The first wrinkled parchment contains _read magic, comprehend languages,_ and _mage hand;_ another holds _fireball, dispel magic_ and _stoneskin._  The final scroll bears the spells _globe of invulnerability, bonebreak, wall of honey_ and _seal portal._

The other room of the level proves to be guarded by a force screen of some sort, but Lillamere _disintegrates_ it and the group passes into a laboratory.  Everything in the chamber shows signs of extreme burn damage, and the fumes are notably thicker in the laboratory.

Returning to the library, the party again ascends, little suspecting that one of them is about to kill another.

_*Next Time:*_ One of our heroes kills another!!


*Darn it!  Failed the save.   This could’ve been such a cool battle.


----------



## Brain

the Jester said:
			
		

> _*Next Time:*_ One of our heroes kills another!!



More than one  :\


----------



## the Jester

*Deaths*

The door bursts open as Inoke puts his shoulder into it.  He draws up short, appalled by what he sees.  

First is the pair of disgustingly fat monstrosities.  Though Inoke doesn’t recognize them, Horbin does; they are shator demodands, powerful evil outsiders from the plane of Carceri.  It was a demodand that held Till prisoner, and that Horbin slew with a single _destruction_ spell.  Behind the demodands, though, is something else- a ghostly shade of some sort, the spirit of the long-dead master of the tower.  

And suddenly there’s pandemonium.

A cloud of greenish vapor issue from one of the shators, filling the chamber with a _cloudkill._  Our heroes move fearlessly through it, trying their best to join battle.  Then a terrible, blood-curdling shrieking starts coming from the unseen shade in the midst of the vapors, and it tears at the sanity of our heroes.  Some sort of stunning boom blares out, stunning Jezebel, Lillamere, Sybele and Inoke.  

Rex gives a mighty roar and leaps on one of the shators.  It struggles mightily, but he tears it apart in seconds, then roars in triumph.  Drelvin, meanwhile, squints and grimaces, his eyes tearing from the deadly gas, but he launches a flurry of arrows at the sound of the shade.  His head throbs; he can barely think.  It’s driving him mad!  He has to stop it, before it’s...

_Too late._ 

Inoke, meanwhile, has already lost his mind completely.  He stands, befuddled, for a few moments, trying to talk to his club, Deadly Avalanche, before quizzically looking over at Drelvin.  He’s very confused.  Veil glances at him in concern.  _He’s about to attack,_ the mindspy thinks unhappily.  _Oh crap._

The stunned people are still reeling, unable to act; and if it weren’t for Rex they would all be meat for the demodand.  With a gesture it charms almost all of them, but the half-dragon resists, roars, and leaps upon the fat creature!  Again the dragon disciple wrestles with his opponent, tearing and choking, until he breaks its neck!

Then things get ugly.  The mind-shattering shrieking of the tower wizard’s shade continues to throb through our heroes’ minds; and Drelvin’s mind snaps.  He whirls and fires at Lillamere, sinking arrow after arrow into his handsome nephew.  To add insult to injury, the last one obliterates the sorcerer’s crotch.  Lillamere stumbles back nearly 15’ before falling dead to the floor.

“Drelvin’s blue came to happy,” Inoke grunts, and smashes his great club at the archer.  It strikes him square in the back, separating ribs and shattering spine; then crashes into his thigh, wrenching his leg from its socket; and finally, an overhand blow directly onto the elf’s head finishes him off, pounding him into the ground like a tomato.

“Nooo!” cries Sybele, and fires an arrow at Inoke’s boot, stapling him to the ground.  The big burly warrior wheels to face her, but finds himself stuck to the ground.

“Enough!” cries Horbin the MFKG Holy, invoking the Light of Dexter.  A _mass heal_ washes over the party and the shade; the monster screeches one last time and vanishes like the morning mist.  The others feel their heads clear and their wounds close.  

But it is too late for Lillamere and Drelvin.

“What have I done?” cries Inoke.  His face is etched in sorrow.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Horbin says compassionately.  “You were out of your mind.  And I’ll bring them back.”

But he won’t, at least not both of them- for one of them has had enough of the trials of life.  Hardships have dogged him for centuries; he is done. 

Drelvin the Archer is no more.

_*Next Time:*_ Drelvin’s Funeral!  Appearances by many old pcs, including Malford, the tabaxi champion Hobbes, Stone, Belmondo the Enhanced and more!


----------



## the Jester

*R.I.P. Drelvin*

Let us raise a toast to Drelvin the Archer.

Since he first came to prominence alongside Malford and Dexter in their battle with the gargantuan,* Drelvin has stood steadfast against all odds.  Though he was dogged by ill-fortune- from being petrified for decades to the many losses of his leg- Drelvin always maintained that wry sense of humor and his perspective.  He was always one elf against insurmountable odds, and despite his many triumphs he never lost sight of the hugeness of his enemies.  

The gargantuan... the dragon Gnarichlor... E-Krektor... Felenga... Acererak... the list is long.  Drelvin had many enemies among the great.  He destroyed, or aided in the destruction of, many of them.  He often boasted that he had killed more dragons than anyone else in Cydra, and he might have claimed the most liches as well had he thought about it. 

Yes, he had his defeats as well.  The cockatrices in the Hill of Skulls, that left him a statue in the fountain in the old gardens of Var for decades... the loss of the sacred Bodyguard’s Bow and his subsequent disgrace... having his leg shattered thrice in one minute in Hell, seized by an undead lake monster, removed by clockwork horrors... But no matter his defeats, he overcame them.  The horrors were overthrown, he was restored to favor in court, his leg was regrown (again and again and again).

Ahhh, Drelvin, it’s a sad day when we put you in the ground.

***

_*8/8/370 O.L.G., 11 a.m., the graveyard at the Chapel of Dexter*_

The funeral is somber.  Everyone is there; the king and queen, many of Drelvin’s archers from his time as the queen’s bodyguard, all of his current and most of his former adventuring companions, many of the local people.  Drelvin had many friends.  There are humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, halflings, even tabaxi in the crowd.  God-King Malford and Queen Moira, the royal children, the local nobility and landed gentry; old adventuring friends, including the king, Stone D. Mason, Zelda Hammerhead, Hobbes, Mary Nine, Sunsi, Thimbleton the Evoker, Chobain- the roster of Drelvin’s former companions is long.  Horbin gives a moving sermon, whose words leave too much pain in my heart to record.  Many eyes are wet.  Drelvin’s waxy corpse lays within the closed coffin, too badly damaged to be open for viewing.  

Drelvin was a baron, given land and title by God-King Malford.  He has died childless; his heir apparent, then, is his nephew- Lillamere.  As his first act in his new capacity, Lillamere renames the house House Drelvin, and designates his sister, N’Sari, as his heir.  

Inoke struggles with his guilt.  The gloomy sky reflects his mood.  _I did this,_ he thinks dully.  _I killed Drelvin._

A figure pads up towards him- a large, imposing tabaxi.  The cat-man’s fur is deep black, and across his back a sword hangs.  Behind him, dripping from the blood, comes a trail of droplets of blood.  The sword seems to be exuding it.  Inoke regards the tabaxi warily.  The cat-man halts before him and looks him up and down.

“They say,” the tabaxi says conversationally, “that you’re the one who killed Drelvin.”

“That’s right,” Inoke says unhappily.

The tabaxi’s eyes flash yellow.  “Are you proud of it?  Do you think that makes you tough?”

“What?  No-”

“Drelvin was a good man,” the tabaxi snarls.  He looks almost ready to pounce.  

Inoke exclaims, “Yes, he was!  I didn’t mean to kill him!  I was driven mad by some sort of monster!  I-“

Just then Lester arrives and interrupts.  “Hobbes!  Hey, how’s it going?  This is Inoke.  Inoke, this is Hobbes, the great leader of the tabaxi.”  He grins fleetingly.

“We just met,” Hobbes says frostily.  He gives Inoke another glare, growling threateningly at him, before stalking off.

“Oh, uh, hmm,” mutters Lester.  “Don’t mind him, he’s just upset,” he tells Inoke, then hurries off to try to pacify Hobbes.  They are old friends; why, Hobbes was there on that fateful day (if one can call time in Darkhold day or night) when Lester released the terrible power of Fuligin.  And they have not seen each other in years.  They have a lot of catching up to do.

Hobbes is not the only one to give Inoke a cold stare.  Stone D. Mason, a doughty dwarven warrior and thane of Platinum Peak, also has little more than a hostile grunt to say to Inoke.  The warmind feels guilty, unhappy, uncertain about his future path.  These are Drelvin’s old companions, and most of them are nobles.  If they decided to do so, they could make life very uncomfortable for him as long as he stayed on Dorhaus.  Depressed, angry at himself and guilty, Inoke can say nothing to defend himself.  After all, he _did_ kill the archer.

If anyone were to tell him that his choices would lead him to a new religion, a new god, and a new alignment in a few short months, he would laugh in disbelief and shake his head.  For now, though, he is a miserable man, downcast and saddened.

Some hours after the funeral, the party is invited to dinner with the King.  One does not turn down such an invitation.  Into the castle they go, and thence to a sumptuous dinner with fowl, fish and coneys laid out with roasted nuts and scalloped potatoes.  It’s gnomish style tonight!  

Malford studies Inoke intently.  “So you’re the one who killed Drelvin.”

Inoke’s face falls.  “Yes,” he groans.  “But I didn’t mean to!  There was a monster, it drove me insane, I didn’t know what was going on!”

Malford says nothing for a time.  Then, he says, “Drelvin was my oldest friend.  He was probably my _best_ friend since Dexter died.  He bodyguarded my Queen and defended her with his life.  You have cost me a friend, my realm a valuable agent, and the world a good man.”

“I’m sorry...”

Malford shakes his head.  “I know that these things happen when magic compels you.  I’m a spellcaster myself.  One does not always have control over their actions when facing hostile monsters.  You cannot fully be blamed for what happened.

“My question to you is, _how will you prevent it from happening again?_”

Inoke stares at the king in surprise.  “I... I hadn’t...”

“You’d better,” Malford says sharply.  “I had better not hear about you killing another one of my friends.”

***

A grey period... a few days blur by, and Sir Maxwell more and more turns contemplative.  “I could do a lot of good here, if I built a small temple and a facility,” he murmurs to himself at several points.  His plans begin to shape up- and he realizes that the time has come.

”I’m retiring,” he announces to the party.

“What!” exclaims Horbin.

“I have work to do,” Maxwell explains.  He tells the group about his plans; Lillamere has given him land in Brelana, and he has easily secured some in Var as well.  

“Aw, man,” Gerontius groans.  “First Drelvin, now Maxwell too!”

***

Veil, meanwhile, has continued to play with Chaos.  In Var there is an Obelisk of Na’Rat; again and again she touches it.  Among other things, she now has a strong, strong craving for something called nose dust, but nobody seems to know what it is or where to find it.  It’s driving her mad.  Worse yet, she is under a _geas_ to slay a hydra with her bare hands.  Fortunately, one of her hands has turned into a mace.  Over and over her friends exhort her to moderate her desire for the touch of Chaos; but she just grins and keeps it up.  

***

_*8/10/370 O.L.G., the hills north of Var*_

Veil’s initial attempt to overcome a hydra bare-handed and by herself fails.  Her friends help drive it off, but she is still victim of the _geas_ effect.  Afterwards, sitting around, the party talks about various strategic ways to approach the problem.

“Its heads kept growing back!” exclaims Veil, wiping sweat from her brow.  She shakes her head in dismay.

Though old friends have passed out of our story (though we have no doubt that Sir Maxwell will come up again, perhaps once our party is fighting an arch-devil or something), perhaps a new one is entering.  Seethe, a druid of exceptional power, had intervened in the hydra battle to aid our heroes, not even knowing about the _geas_ on Veil.  They’ve been discussing their recent adventures, and especially the Prophecy of the Worms, and Seethe is most interested; after all, strange worms from other planes invading Cydra is hardly a natural thing; indeed, it is every druid’s duty to guard against such horrific interventions in the natural order of things.  So he offers to aid them in their travels, and our heroes, their ranks somewhat depleted, gladly accept his offer.

At least, he claims that is his motive.  There is more to it, of course.

Our heroes have so far resisted every attempt by the forces of Law or Chaos to involve them on a greater level as champions of one side or the other in the Great War of Ethics (with the exception of Veil’s deal with the demon prince Graz’zt).  Now another side has begun developing, with the druids at the forefront.  

They are champions of _balance._

Our heroes return to the ruins of Ostraghan, Seethe with them, hoping to guide them on the middle path.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes return to exploring the ruins of Ostraghan!


*A tale yet to be told, alas.

**Sir Maxwell’s player’s new character, of course.  Drelvin’s player’s new character will arrive in due course.


----------



## SeldomSeen

Thanks Jester.  

It's always fun to see that your character has made an impact on the world.  Whether he was going bezerk from wearing the cloak of the bear, slaying ancient dragons, or getting his leg hacked off for the third time in one combat, it was great fun.  Rest well brave elf, for you are remembered in story and song.


----------



## Brain

*Inoke groans*

No angry messages from Drelvin fans please 

SeldomSeen: I only knew Drelvin for a short time but I'd confirm that he made a large impression on the world and on my character's life posthumously.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Yeah, well, Drelvin also had a great talent for giving Lester a bad time.  ("Why are you here?  How much money do you need?  Don't be a Lester . . . ) I think he was only rivaled by Malford in this regard.  Still, Drelvin was always there when we needed him and he took the whole leg loss thing in stride (well, as much of a stride as you can have while missing a leg.)

As always, I tip my 40 full of d6s onto a new character sheet for my dead homie.


----------



## the Jester

*Back to the Ruins of Ostraghan*

_*8/10/370 O.L.G., 11:30 a.m., the ruins of Blendorag*_

Some of our heroes seethe with anger as they return to the ruins.  This place cost their friend Drelvin his _life._  Some of them are glum, filled with a grey sadness.  One of them- Inoke- is filled with guilt and remorse.  Horbin has remained in Var to deal with church matters for a few days.

They return to the tower wherein they slew the weird shade that killed the archer.  Beyond that, in what turns out to be a kitchen, is a deadly cloud of burning vapor, some sort of living incendiary cloud.  But our heroes overthrow it easily, dissipating it amongst the other vapors and fumes within the place.  

On the way out, Lillamere shakes his head.  _A few scrolls and wands... for this Uncle Drelvin gave his life?  This is a dangerous occupation we hold here.  Drelvin had no child, nor do I... I must designate an heir immediately, in case misfortune should befall me!  Perhaps N’Sari... yes._

***

_*3 p.m.*_

There are several other places worth investigating in the ruins that our heroes know of, including the academy betrayed by its rector and the church wherein may be an imprisoned fiendish general of some kind. 

At the Academy of the Spear, our heroes encounter a huge formation of undead, and almost instantly Seethe casts a _sunburst,_ destroying all of them except for two.  The rector of the academy, a militant-looking, full plate wearing, greatsword-wielding death knight, responds by unleashing a purple-black _Abyssal blast,_ and the surviving spearman charges forward at our heroes.  

It doesn’t last long.  Inoke steps up and _Deadly Avalanche,_ his stone-studded greatclub, smashes it to destruction.  Meanwhile Sybele, firing _arrows of Graz’zt,_ blasts the (unfortunately not lawful) death knight into oblivion with her bow.   

Here the loot is a little better.  The death knight has an impressive array of magic items, which Proto later identifies as including _full plate +3,_  a silver _unholy shock greatspear +3_, a _ring of fire resistance 10_, a _cloak of flying_ that is a free action to activate and allows ten minutes of flight per day, _boots of dexterity +2,_ and the aptly-named _gauntlets of incredible power_ (which give strength +4 and a +2 morale bonus on attack rolls).  In addition to this, the death knight had a bag of ten large rubies.  Gerontius whistles, eyeing the gems hungrily.

Proto turns to Seethe.  “Good job with that _sunburst,_” the warforged comments tinnily.  “I was going to do that, but you got there first.”  

The druid frowns at the warforged.  _Loathsome, unnatural creature,_ he thinks, but he holds his tongue.  The warforged are an outrage!  The Delphinate is tampering with things best left for the gods.  _It’s not natural,_ Seethe grumbles silently.

“Now to this church,” Lillamere says.  The band shakes out in a line and begins advancing through the ruins.

***

_*5 p.m.*_

When the party enters the still-intact church, they fall into a hush.

“You may not pass.”

Pews are torn asunder, almost entirely destroyed.  There is the mark of old fire in here.  In the center of the fane of the church, within a magic diagram drawn on the floor, is a slumbering creature than the more planar-savvy amongst the party recognize as a nycaloth.  It is obscured by a slight haze in the air around it, a rippling distortion that seems to arise from the circle binding it. 

Before the circle, standing in a guard position, is a tall, green-skinned angel.  His wings are feathered in copper, and he gleams in the party’s light.  He looks _perfect._*

Gerontius fades into the shadows off to the left.  “We’ve come to destroy that thing.”  Lillamere gestures at the sleeping daemon. 

“You may not pass,” repeats the angel.

“Who are you?” demands Lillamere.  “Why do you guard this... _thing?_  Don’t you want to see it destroyed?”

The angel studies the party.  “I have been set to guard this slumbering menace,” he states.  “I am Vock 27.  And _you may not pass._  Any attempt to destroy him risks awakening Red Gash, and that is unacceptable.”

“Are we going to let this punk tell us what to do?” grumbles Inoke. 

“I won’t have this thing on my land,” Lillamere declares.  “Stand aside.”

In reply, the angel draws its sword.

“Good thing Horbin’s not here,” comments Sybele, nocking an arrow.

Then, just as everyone bursts into motion, the angel stiffens and gives a cry as a pair of daggers tears into it from the side, unseen until too late.  Gerontius grins savagely as he thrusts into the vitals four times, and the celestial drops with a cry without even a chance to act.

Sybele looses her arrow at the sleeping nycaloth, but it deflects off the invisible barrier around it.  Proto tries a _greater dispelling,_ but he has split his focus with the study of arms, and he fails to dispel the powerful magic holding the daemon general in place.  Lillamere tries a _disintegrate._

There’s a flare of green light, and suddenly the nycaloth stirs.  Its fingers tighten on the haft of its deadly greataxe _Eviscerator._ 

On the ground, the angel stirs as well.  “Crap,” exclaims Gerontius, as the celestial’s eyes lock with his.

_*Next Time:*_* Vock 27 vs. Red Gash vs. the party in a three way battle full of fun!


*This was an axiomatic planetar.*


----------



## Knightfall

Great stuff, as usual. I like the stoic demenor of the axiomatic celestial. And a nycaloth, no less. Eek!  

To bad about Drevlin. He was one of my favorites. Poor Inoke, he's definitely got the blues. Hopefully Hobbes won't try to invoke a blood oath duel or some such thing.

Cheers!

KF72


----------



## the Jester

Not just a nycaloth.  

Anyhow, here's a party update:

Inoke (barb 2/psychic warrior 2/ftr 5/warmind 10); NG; 205 hp.
Seethe (druid 18); N; 170 hp.
Proto (warforged paragon 2/transmuter 5/eldritch knight 9); NG; 179 hp.
Sybele (fighter 8/psion 12/warrior of chaos 3); CG; 192 hp.
Lillamere (sorcerer 18); CG; 70 hp.
Veil (doppelganger fighter 5/mindspy 5, ECL 18); CN; 108 hp.
Gerontius (halfling fighter 4/rogue 9/invisible blade 5); CN; 112 hp.
Horbin the MFKG Holy (cleric 23); CG; 203 hp.


----------



## the Jester

For an instant the tableau is frozen: our heroes, the mightiest single group of adventurers in all of Cydra, weapons at the ready, watch the stirring creature like a massive lump of evil gristle who even now opens its eyes on the ground.  

“Fools!” cries Vock 27, the planetar they’ve knocked down.  “Red Gash awakens!”  _Waves of fatigue_ wash out over the group from the guardian, sapping everyone else’s vitality.

Seethe, having long ago cast his _shapechange_ spell, seems to melt like wax.  In seconds he becomes an iron golem!  He smashes a stout fist into Vock 27 from above.  “Stay down, outsider,” the druid sneers.  

Our heroes burst into motion.  Gerontius fades into _invisibility_ as Inoke uses _expansion_ to grow to huge size.  Lillamere makes a grab for the axe of Red Gash, trying to snatch it away from the evil general, but even groggy the nycaloth’s great horny hands will not yield their favored weapon.  And then, finally blinking into full awareness, Red Gash vanishes with a foreboding grin, _teleporting_ across the room and rising to his feet.  He towers on legs like tree trunks, the deadly axe _Eviscerator_ fairly thrumming with power in his hands.  

“Thank you for waking me,” he booms in a voice like thunder.  Then he lets out an evil bellowing laugh.  It is clear that he holds no gratitude in his heart.

Proto, meanwhile, lands another blow on Vock 27, his blade slashing down across the planetar’s jaw.  The angel cries out and slumps into unconsciousness again, but it is plain that the guardian’s wounds are regenerating.

The party turns in full force on Red Gash.  Inoke rushes forward and deals a series of terrific blows to the daemon, striking with almost unimaginable force.*   

Red Gash and Inoke trade blows back and forth, the deadly axe missing as often as not due to the huge fighter’s _greater concealing amorpha._  But when he does land a blow, _Eviscerator_ deals even more damage.**  Then suddenly Red Gash lashes out to the side, sneering, “Fool!”, and breaks Gerontius’ arm as the invisible blade tries to sneak up on him.  The halfling cries out and retreats, horribly wounded.*** 

_He’s just going to _teleport_ away if we don’t stop him,_ thinks Lillamere, cursing as his first attempt to _disintegrate_ the monster goes awry and misses completely.  He focuses, maximizing another _disintegrate,_ and though it penetrates the yugoloth’s spell resistance, it does not destroy the creature.  Still, Red Gash turns glaring eyes upon the sorcerer turned head of House Drelvin, and Lillamere gulps quietly.

It seems that Proto is concerned about the same thing.  A _dimensional anchor_ flashes out, enveloping the daemon, and Red Gash gives out a howl of rage.  His muscles cord as he hews again at Inoke, but his first blow misses due to the _amorpha..._ as does the second... and the third!  Inoke catches the fourth and final blow of the axe on _Deadly Avalanche,_ then ducks both claw swipes- emerging unscathed!  Red Gash shouts and gnashes his teeth, but to no avail, and our heroes press in!  Vock 27 is starting to twitch again, but it’s too late to affect the outcome.  Sybele keeps peppering the evil general with feathered shafts and Inoke harries him roughly with his great club.  Suddenly Red Gash stumbles, nearly blinded by Lillamere’s maximized _disintegrate,_ and Inoke swings one... last... time.  

_Deadly Avalanche_ connects with Red Gash’s head with a meaty ‘thump’ and the nycadaemon’s head snaps back.  He flops to the ground limply and Inoke brings the club down on Vock 27 several times.

“Let’s figure out how to kill this thing!” he exclaims.  “It keeps coming back!”

Lillamere moves over to the fallen fiend and confirms, “Red Gash is dead.”  He turns to the twitching mass of axiomatic celestial.  “I think I can take care of that.  Stand back.”

As his friends withdraw, Lillamere casts _whirlwind of teeth._

***

_*8/10/370 O.L.G., 8:00 p.m., the ruins of Blendorag*_

“Evil, huh?” muses Inoke. 

“Yep.  That’s the key.”  Lillamere looks pensive.

“So how did you get to know a spell like _that?”_ Inoke inquires.

The _whirlwind of teeth_ had been one of the most horrifying things he had ever seen.  The sight of it was enough to put one completely on edge; it was so... unnatural.  And it fairly reeked of evil, while Lillamere himself was a good person.

Lillamere sighs.  “It just kind of... came to me.****  I... if I focus right, I could probably unlearn it... but it’s useful.” 

Inoke shrugs.  Magicians.  You never know what they’re going to stick their fingers into next.

***

The party spends ten days selling stuff in the Delphinate, during which Lillamere comes to detest the place.  As he is a sorcerer, he is put down, frowned upon.  He is not a serious scholar of the Art.  He is accosted by bureaucracy; he has to pay a fee to change his coins, he has to file papers as a sorcerer to be allowed to practice any magic at all in the Delphinate, and so on.  Thoroughly pissed off, he purchases a scroll of _vision and reads it, hoping to see the whereabouts of his mother, Alita. 

Lillamere has not seen his mother for decades.  They were separated during the chaos that ensued when Fuligin overthrew Dorhaus, summoning tens of thousands of demons and devils and instructing them to lay waste to everything that was not evil.  He does not know for sure if she is alive or dead, but other relatives have indicated that she was alive as recently as forty years ago. 

The vision shows her stirring a cauldron, from which emerges a warforged.

Wow, mom, thinks Lillamere.

***

The patterns of reality twitch and writhe as they interact.  Where one thing touches another, ripples distort everything around it, telling their tale to everyone that can see.  Time is not exactly as we perceive it, either; so these ripples can even move back in time, carrying information about events yet to happen to those who know how to look for it- mostly the gods.

But not entirely. 

Brooding in his dark fortress, a very powerful entity stirs.  Someone is interfering in something very important, the entity realizes.  Or they will soon.  Thin lips pursed, the potent mind of this entity feels gingerly along the vibrating track of the potential event, and it starts in surprise.  Ahead, not even very far ahead, is the potential for total downfall- and the beginning of it all is somehow masked.  What is this? the entity sneers.  I will shatter these defenses like they are nothing!

But after days of trying, its fierce pride stinging, the entity withdraws its attempts to unravel the mysteries ahead.  Baffled, angry, frustrated- not frightened, surely not frightened, but nonetheless... What stymies me? the great mind wonders.  What can hide from my eye?

Tapping a finger, tracing it delicately across ruby facets, the powerful entity shrugs.  I am due back on Cydra in my capacity as an Arrow of Law, it thinks.  And none of the men yet realize who I am.  Thinking of its capacity to deceive always brings the entity’s smirk out.  

Even as its form changed into the man known as Umoades, though, the entity’s smirk faded.  Total downfall- from what?  With all I have, the forces I can marshal, my own personal puissance... 

Grim faced, Umoades plane shifts to Cydra. 

*Next Time:* Our heroes go to fulfill a quest left unfulfilled from centuries before!


*This sequence of attacks (a full attack via psionic lion’s charge) dealt 95 hp of damage to Red Gash!  Well, minus 40 for DR... 

**With ‘typical’ Power Attack he dealt 3d6+35 per hit.  

***6d6+70 hp of damage vs. 111 hp at full for G.

****When an arcane spellcaster levels imc, they may take their ‘free level up’ spells (2 in the book for wizards, and by level for bards & sorcerers) from the PH or they may elect to take a “mystery spell,” where they choose the school and I have them roll randomly from a list I cull from all my non-PH books.  This is how Lillamere got this spell, as well as crushing fist of spite and soul’s treasure lost, all from the BoVD._


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Mmmmmmm epicy level goodness
Thanks for the regular updates!


----------



## the Jester

Look_a_Unicorn said:
			
		

> Mmmmmmm epicy level goodness
> Thanks for the regular updates!




My pleasure!  I'm trying to catch up to the Big Event that is foreshadowed here.  Cuz it is, in fact, a biggun. 

I'm sometimes afraid my frequent updating scares off some potential readers...


----------



## Dakkareth

Quite the opposite! Your SH is one of my favourites, because it's updated so often. Unlike with Shemeska, Piratecat, etc I can hope for another piece of SH every time I come here .


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## Look_a_Unicorn

the Jester said:
			
		

> My pleasure!  I'm trying to catch up to the Big Event that is foreshadowed here.  Cuz it is, in fact, a biggun.
> 
> I'm sometimes afraid my frequent updating scares off some potential readers...




I agree with Dakkareth- I LOVE regular updates. Sure they may not (all) be massive, but it helps keep track of the characters and what situation the party is in.
It probably helps that you do a good job of ending your updates on good stopping points- either something has just been resolved or a mid-battle cliffhanger.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Yeah, More UPDATES!*

Jester,

These guys are on to something.  More Updates!  Anyone want to chime in as to what their favorite Jester story hour is?  To War Against Falenga is mine.  The whole Return to the Tomb of Horrors module we played was . . . EPIC.    

FYI, we've got:

Jester's Old Story Hour 
Cydra:  The Early Years (recently completed?)
Agents of Chaos
Politics of Tirchond
To War Against Falenga
Great Conflicts
Of Sound Mind (the Halfing Way)


----------



## Brain

Don't forget The Politics of Tirchond as well.

I love the frequent updates too btw.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Hey Brain,

And your favorite Story Hour is . . . ?


----------



## the Jester

Honestly, nothing motivates me like feedback. 

I'll try to post an update by the time we start gamin' tomorrow; failing that, I'll post one for sure by Friday.  (Which thread, I'm not yet sure.)


----------



## the Jester

*Blendorag (the First Assault)*

Here it is, earlier than I'd planned, but hey.

*******

Blendorag.  The island has squatted off the east coast of Dorhaus for as long as anyone can recall, for as long as the history of Dorhaus has been recorded.  It is a name that makes bards shudder, that causes the wise and learned to turn their mouths down.  It is well-known as a foul place of evil. 

The island of Blendorag is some 500 miles long, an 80-mile wide spear of cracked earth and scarred rock.  The forest of Blendorag is called the Deadwood; another of its landmarks is known as Everburn.  The majority of the island rises to form the Cracked Plateau.  The plateau rises starkly from the surrounding gravel and grit; it is hard to climb, crumbling under the fingers and toes of those who dare it.  Atop the plateau are jagged chunks of sharp broken rock.  Somewhere in the middle of it all is the Stinking Pit.

No one is known to have entered the Stinking Pit and returned.  The Pit is about 50’ across, a roughly circular canker on the land.  Thick, foul-smelling smoke rises from the pit.  Terrible devils guard it, and it is said that a pit fiend dwells within; and although God-King Malford, Lester, Hobbes, Stone and certain other great heroes know of the promised treasure within the pit, none of them are presently with our heroes.  

Even so, the existence of a fiend of the pit so near to Dorhaus- which he has sworn to protect- is something that Horbin the MFKG Holy cannot condone.

***

_*8/21/370 O.L.G., 11:11 a.m., Blendorag*_

Proto _teleports_ our heroes to a spot just south of the Deadwood.  They glance around, taking in the somber isle.  There is no obvious sign of life; the Deadwood itself appears to be a forest of petrified trees.  Looking it over, Gerontius quirks a smile; there are lots of shadows in there.  Veil scans around for thoughts, but there is nothing nearby.  Then she checks the time mentally; she has continued to dabble with obelisks over the last week or so, and has fallen under a chaos curse.  She no longer _needs_ to touch an obelisk; the chaos changes her every day.  One of the things she has gained is a perfect sense of time.  It amuses her to no end. 

The party moves along the edge of the petrified forest.  It is utterly creepy.  There is no bird sound; there are no squirrels, no bugs.  The few bushes the party sees are dead, petrified.  “I don’t know why we didn’t just teleport right to the pit,” comments Lillamere, and Proto gives a metallic shrug.  

“There’s nothing like some adventure,” Veil suggests.

“We should just go deal with this fiend,” Horbin grumbles.

Soon our heroes begin to hear a faint sound, a singing perhaps, in the distance.  “What’s that?” wonders Gerontius, and the group moves to investigate.  Soon enough, they warily approach a clearing with some sort of huge, 30’ tall petrified tree in it.  

“I can’t get a reading,” reports Veil nervously, assiduously scanning. 

Suddenly the tree begins to twitch.  

Proto waits not even a second.  He casts _seeker missiles,_ firing a volley at the tree, and then a quickened _far strike_ on his blade.  “Watch out!” he calls.  “It’s moving!”

Lillamere smirks.  “I’ve got just the thing for it... close your eyes!”  He hurls a _sunburst,_ squeezing his own eyes shut as he does so and flinging an arm up to shield them from the glare besides.  Light explodes, impossibly bright, and everyone is unable to see for a moment.  Opening his watering eyes, Lillamere expects to see broken undead tree monster; but to his shock the thing is still standing, barely damaged.  

“Oh crap,” he groans, “it’s _not_ undead!”

He doesn’t have any time to say more; suddenly his worst nightmare is facing him: Drelvin gone mad, shooting him in the crotch just like before-

With a scream Lillamere falls dead to the ground.

Everyone else faces their worst fear as well; and in a moment of overwhelming terror the entire group roils in the grip of a _weird._  But everyone else manages to throw off the grip of the terrible magic.

As our heroes reel and moan, then begin to recover, Proto demonstrates the quality of his programming by casting a _chain lightning_ at the petrified tree monster.  The party closes in- and suddenly someone else is there too!  A dwarf charges in with startling speed, neither armored nor armed.  He rushes in towards the huge monster, but long before he reaches it he is slammed across the face by a thick, rocky tendril that tears free from the ground.  It looks suspiciously like a root.  The dwarf tumbles forward and springs into the tree, his attack deflecting off of its stony exterior.

Then the great petrified creature tears itself out of the ground as its roots pummel the dwarf.  The monk spins and whirls, trying to defend himself, but there are too many of the roots.  He fends off one and leaps over another, but then one crashes into his head with brutal force and breaks his jaw!  He staggers back a pace, then another blow takes him in the side.  He starts to flip away, avoiding another blow, but yet another stony root clips his hip as he tumbles away.  He’s bleeding badly; it’s obvious that the blows have almost killed him.  He manages to somersault out of the monster’s considerable reach.

“Impressive,” Inoke smiles.  Then he power lunges forward with a yell, and the very ground shakes as the titanic tree and the cat-helmed club-wielding warmind slam each other.  Though the tree smashes into Inoke over and over, he seems able to take almost unending punishment; and though he lands blow after blow on the plant, the creature seems disinclined to submit or die.

“I’m finally getting through,” Veil calls to the others.  “It’s craving something- this can’t be good- hey I feel funny WHAT’S HAPPENING?!”

Suddenly lights blaze from Veil’s eyes.  She shrieks in startlement, then realizes what is happening.  “It’s Chaos!” she cries.  “Wow, I can shoot lights from my eyes!  Oooh, that’s a good one!”

Meanwhile, Proto, using his _far strike,_ is both attacking and keeping his distance.  He has managed to land several good blows, but he can see that the thing is still in pretty good shape.  Worse, Inoke’s strength is obviously flagging; the tree has hit him too hard, too many times, and he stumbles.  He is about to fall.  Proto shows no emotion; he simply keeps attacking.  What does he feel?  _Does_ he feel?

The dwarf- _whoever the hell he is,_ thinks Gerontius, who is scared and frustrated  (as his ability to sneak attack is useless against elementals, plants and undead, which are the three types of creature this thing looks like it might be) but apparently safe so long as he remains _invisible_- has meanwhile used his skills to restore some of his lost strength, followed up with a pair of healing potions.  Now he steels himself as a final blow finally breaks Inoke’s neck, slaying him; then the dwarf charges in again, his fists cracking against the tree’s bark to no avail.  

“Oh what the hell,” Gerontius mutters, and tumbles quietly and _invisibly_ next to the tree thing.  With a sigh, he whips out his fire and frost daggers and starts to make an earnest attempt.  It is, indeed, better than nothing: the fire and cold seem to harm it, and if he cuts at it he seems to be able to damage it.  Another _chain lightning_ blasts the creature, and suddenly a great wind picks up and knocks Gerontius to the ground.  Then the tree retreats a pace.  The halfling struggles to raise himself up, but the wind is too strong.  He screams in frustration.  Proto, meanwhile, tries a _disintegrate_, which blasts some of the creature to powder, but it survives.  Veil, meanwhile, is being smashed haplessly about by the roots.  He is knocked senseless.  

The dwarf, meanwhile, puts his head against the wind and keeps hammering at the creature.  Finally he begins to do some damage.  It weakens, but still stands; and the dwarf is unrelenting.  It tries to _scare_ him off, but it fails; and the dwarf and Proto together deliver the final blow, between the monk’s relentless fists and the warforged’s _far strike_.  The terrible tree monster falls at last, shaking the earth and puncuating the surrounding silence dramatically.  A great cloud of dust swirls up around our heroes.  At least, those still standing.

Veil groans.  Gerontius hurries to Lillamere; he’s dead, his eyes staring open and his mouth contorted in a rictus of fear.  Inoke is dead too.

“Perhaps we should retreat for the time being,” suggests Proto.

***

_*1 p.m., inside a safe house in the Delphinate*_

“You can rest here, but you should probably stay inside,” Proto informs the group.  “The better to stay out of trouble.”

Veil and Gerontius, ignoring the warforged, turn to the dwarf.   “Thanks for your help,” Gerontius begins.  “Now who the hell are you?”

The dwarf studies him for a moment.  Finally, he answers: “Chakar.”

“What were you doing on Blendorag?” asks Veil.  “I can’t read him,” she tells the halfling.

“I seek discipline.  There was something there- that tree- that had many to an untimely death.  I wished first to know whether my discipline is strong enough to resist it, and second to destroy it.”  He pauses.  “Both of my tasks are accomplished.”  He bows to the party.  

“Well like I said, thank you very much,” Gerontius says earnestly.  They talk to the monk, and after telling him about some of their adventures and having seen his skill in combat, they ask him to join the party.  

“You honor me,” he answers.

***

_*8/22/370 O.L.G., 8 p.m., the Delphinate*_

“Thank you for allowing us to rest here,” says Horbin.

“It is my pleasure.  You are allies of my people.  You will aid us at the Bastion of Law.”  Proto’s voice remains a tinny monotone.  Horbin momentarily wonders if that will ever change.  

“And thank you, again, for bringing us back,” Inoke says humbly.  Lillamere nods.

”Well, thank Dexter, really,” Horbin replies.  

***

_*8/25/370 O.L.G., 2 p.m., the site of the battle with the petrified tree monster*_

Our heroes appear, teleporting in again.  The site of the battle is just as they left it, except that the omnipresent dust has covered some of it up.  They are here for one thing only: trophies.

”I want to make a club out of this,” Inoke says eagerly.  “There’s certainly more than enough for all of us to make whatever we want!”

“I want a table for my castle.  That’s classy.”  Lillamere beams.  “House Drelvin’s petrified evil treant wood coffee table.  I like it.”

“That wasn’t an evil treant,” says Horbin.  “I don’t know _what_ it was, but it wasn’t any kind of treant I’ve ever seen.”

The petrified wood is difficult to harvest, but it’s a nice day.  Our heroes chat merrily as they ferry big chunks of petrified wood to Brelana.  

At one point, Horbin asks, “Hey Inoke, where’d you get that helmet?”  He gestures at the helm Inoke so loves to wear, fashioned to resemble a fierce cat head.

“Back home,” Inoke replies, “in the Parrot Isles.  When I was younger... before I was in the Forinthian navy...”

“You were in the navy?” exclaims Gerontius.

“Yep.  Anyway, the helmet was in this place overrun by goblins.  I took it from them.”

“It looks like a Miloxi artifact,” says Proto.  

“What’s that?”

“The Miloxi Empire was an ancient tabaxi empire.”

“What, tabaxi like that Hobbes guy?”

“Yes.”

Inoke shudders.  “I hope he doesn’t come after me,” he groans miserably.

“Anyhow, was there anything else like that helmet there?  And didn’t you once tell us that it talks to you?”  Horbin eyes the helmet in frank curiosity.

“I don’t know- you couldn’t really get in there.  There was some kind of barrier.” 

“Barrier?”

“Like a _wall of force_ or something,” Inoke explains.

“Very interesting indeed,” comments Lillamere.  “Maybe we should go check that place out.”

“What about Blendorag?” Horbin asks.  “We need to get rid of this pit fiend.”

“The _very first thing_ we met here killed two of us,” Lillamere says dryly.  “Perhaps we could use a chance to prepare a little better.”

“True...”

“And if this place is an ancient Miloxi place, then maybe there’s something we can use against the pit fiend.”

“All right,” the cleric relents.  “We’ll check out this place in the Parrot Isles first.  But then I’m going to have to deal with the fiend, with or without you.”

“Of course we’ll help you, of course,” Inoke says hurriedly.

“Besides, this probably won’t take more than a couple of days,” Lillamere adds.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes head to the Parrot Isles!


----------



## Krafus

Aah, the further adventures of very high-level characters... Entertaining as usual, the Jester. Btw, out of curiosity, just what was that tree creature? Some sort of templated treant?


----------



## the Jester

Krafus said:
			
		

> Aah, the further adventures of very high-level characters... Entertaining as usual, the Jester. Btw, out of curiosity, just what was that tree creature? Some sort of templated treant?




Hey, thanks! 

The creature was an ancient night twist from the MM3 with cosmetic differences.  It was a startlingly tough monster for the party for being 'only' CR 20.  (Did I really say _only_ CR 20??)


----------



## the Jester

*Into Thixil Testa*

A quick history lesson before we get started: a long time ago, there was a great empire of cat people.  These cat people- we call them _tabaxi_ today- called their realm the Miloxi Empire, and at its height it stretched over 60,000 miles.  They were masters of portals, using them to make such a huge empire function, and of strange technologies relying upon weird crystals that seem to poison those near them today.  Perhaps they had special techniques to defend themselves from the side effects of their crystals; perhaps the tabaxi are less vulnerable to such effects by their very nature.  Who knows.  In any event, the folk of the Miloxi era had no knowledge of today’s magic, though their lore of crystals and the mind was great.

Their empire, of course, fell; and it fell disastrously.  Well, that was about 50,000 years ago, if you believe the sages.  

Empires falling... hey, these things happen.

*8/26/370 O.L.G., 10 a.m., the isle of Besta**

When they arrive, _mass teleporting_ in cloaked by _invisibility,_ our heroes survey the scene.  As Inoke has told them, the place is a high-walled building without a ceiling, with a large statue of a tabaxi dominating it.  Behind the statue, near the ground, is the top portion of a mostly-buried arch leading out, closed off from ingress by some sort of force field that doesn’t radiate magic.  The place is overrun by a goblin tribe several score strong.  Our heroes move into position near the statue, and then Lillamere conjures a _rain of leeches_ that falls to devastating effect on the goblin tribe.  The sounds of shrieking goblins and screams ring out.  Then the elven head of House Drelvin turns and _disintegrates_ the _wall of force_ blocking ingress in a flare of green light. 

Our heroes squirm through the hole while Lillamere turns and casts another _wall of force_ behind them, stopping the half-hearted javelins beginning to fly their way.  The goblins are really mostly too busy to deal with our heroes; the leeches are, to put it mildly, a distraction.  Fat, fist-sized bloodsuckers crawl all over the screaming hordes of goblins, many of whom are beginning to falter and collapse to the ground. 

Leaving the devastated goblins to do whatever they want, the party examines their surroundings.  The metal arch previously sealed by the _wall of force_ is about 16’ high; they had only had about 3’ of clearance above the earthen wall now blocking the lower 13’.  The earth is now packed so tight that it has not shifted at all with the destruction of the force field that it had been packed against.   Now, as our heroes drop into the chamber, a loud voice calls out something sibilant: _”MRISSSSS?”_

“That can’t be good,” comments Gerontius.  

Standing at the far end of the chamber, flanking the only obvious door out, are two cat-headed creatures made out of dark violet crystal that is starting to flicker and glow from within.**  A cold light falls from the ceiling, where pale blue-white tubes glow brightly.

“They’re probably asking for a password,” reasons Lillamere, “but we certainly don’t have one.”  He summons forth a handful of celestial monkeys, who advance towards the looming crystalline golems.  

_”MRISSSSS?”_ the other golem asks.

Then the monkeys reach the golems, and as soon as one of them touches one of the golems they burst into motion, smashing the monkeys in seconds.  

Gerontius and Chakar both leap forward, striking and damaging the first one, but it strikes back, dealing a stupefying blow to the monk.  

“All right, enough then!” cries Inoke, and charges forward, barreling into the first of the purple crystal golems and pushing it back to the wall and next to the other golem.  It slams its great hand into him, setting his head to ringing; but Inoke only roars.  Then he swings _Deadly Avalanche_ in a wide, sweeping arc, and smashes both golems to rubble in a single blow.  The rest of the party has hardly even had time to move.

“Wow,” says Gerontius. 

Inoke dusts off his hand and the party examines the room more closely.  The walls, floor and ceiling all are metal.  The exit is locked. 

“No problem.”  Gerontius grins, producing a set of thieves’ tools, and sets to work opening the lock.  He is startled by how good it is- he doesn’t know if he’s ever faced such a lock before.  But his fingers are nimble, and he is intimately familiar with locks and wards of all kinds.  Soon enough he springs it open, and our heroes advance into an uninhabited chamber.  A series of shower heads are set in the wall here.  In the center of the room, running north-south, is a metal fixture that has strange nozzles coming out of it.   

“This place is creepy,” murmurs Gerontius.  

Three doors lead out of the chamber.  The first, it turns out, leads to a chamber with four 8’ diameter pads of crystal on the ground, all dark.  The second reveals a few old, brittle smocks on a rack.  When handled, they fall apart almost instantly.  The room is also partitioned- to allow one to change with a modicum of privacy, our heroes surmise.  The third door leads to a 15’ wide metal hallway with one door to the right, one at the end and three to the left.  

The doors on the left open first.  What appears to be a great litter box, with a central hole that waste could be dumped down, gives the party a chuckle.  A room of cleaning supplies doesn’t provoke too much interest from the group.  The final room on the left has large  ‘cat trees’ in the corners, as well as a stone table with a metal base bolted to the floor.  There are metal shelves set in the walls.  A lamp lies on the table.

“I bet they ate here,” Gerontius comments.  “Hmm, I’m hungry- if only there was some food here!”

Suddenly the lamp issues a great cloud of smoke, and in seconds something congeals from it- a tall genie!  The genies bows before the party, who goggle at it: it has the head of a cat!  Nonetheless, a turban is atop it, and its vest and pantaloons give it that look so typical of geniekind.  

“Greetings!” it cries telepathically.  “How may I be of service?  Do you need food?”

After a moment, Gerontius says, “Well, I’m a halfling.”

“Indeed!” cries the genie, and suddenly there is food on the table before the invisible blade.

“Well then,” beams Gerontius, and digs in.

“Who are you?” Chakar asks.  “What are you doing here?”

“I am Djoula Al-Hiwarij,” declares the feline genie.  It turns out he has been here for a very long time, mostly confined to his bottle.  “Please take me with you when you leave,” he begs, “it is so boring here!  I will give you three _wishes_ if you free me from this place!”

Sounds great to pretty much the entire party, so they agree to pick up his lamp before they leave.  As they exit the room the genie returns to his bottle, and our heroes move to the next door- the one at the end of the hallway.  It leads to a narrower hallway, and about half way down, illuminated by the same blue-white glowing ceiling rods that light the entire place (at least so far), our heroes see a perfectly immobile elf.  He doesn’t move an inch- he doesn’t even appear to breathe.  Beyond him, another 50’ past him, is another door, this one of some weird white ceramic.

The elf, watched for a minute, doesn’t move.  It’s as if he’s caught in mid-step.

”This isn’t a trap or anything,” Gerontius says at last, his voice dripping sarcasm.

_*Next Time:*_ Will our heroes fall into the trap?  Will they rescue the elf?  What’s through the door at the end of the hall?  Find out all this and more!


*It is not impossible that I might have the specific island that Inoke was from wrong- it’s either Besta or Rolva.  Either way, it’s a small island about 14 miles across in an out of the way island chain called the Parrot Isles that is mostly famous for its kocho.

**Think of a fluorescent black light starting up.


----------



## the Jester

*Into Thixil Testa- pt. 2*

At a glance, the frozen elf looks like a powerful wizard or sorcerer; he wears scarlet robes dusted with sand and clutches a wooden staff topped with a coppery globe.  Whatever holds him here obviously bypassed or overcame any defenses he had; and he looks rather formidable.  The adventurers move slowly down the hall, Gerontius carefully checking for signs of danger or trap mechanisms as they do so.  

Soon they’ve reached the elf without any trouble.  None of them want to advance past his location; it seems likely to be a location-based trap, and nobody wants to get stuck like a fly in amber.  

An initial round of _dispels_ fails to affect the situation at all, so after some discussion, Inoke tries simply pulling the elf figure back.  To his chagrin, the elf won’t budge.  His muscles bulge as he pulls, to no avail.  Finally, he states, “Well, I’m going to try putting my _ring of freedom of movement_ on him.”  He pulls it off- and freezes in place, just like the elf!

“Great,” groans Lillamere.  “Now what?”

“His plan was good,” notes Chakar.  “He simply did not have the mastery of self to overcome the stasis.”  He pauses, then steps in front of Inoke.  “I will wager that _I do._”  The dwarven monk, too, has a _ring of freedom of movement,_ and now he steps in front of his burly, frozen companion, draws a deep breath, and slips his ring free.  Instantly he feels the tingle of the stasis field surrounding him, but he is his own master.  He slides his arm through the field and places the ring on Inoke, then pushes him back, out of the field again.  The fighter groans, staggering back, and Chakar emerges from the field.  Inoke, shaking his head to clear it, gives Chakar his ring back. 

“Thank you,” he utters, his voice hoarse.  

Chakar turns wordlessly back to the elven figure held by the stasis field.  Again, a deep breath to settle his concentration; then Chakar moves back into the field, slips the ring on the elf, and drags him back.

Almost instantly, the elf tenses, looking around wildly.  He cries out in a strange tongue nobody can comprehend.  There are a few confused moments while the group tries to understand each other, but again Chakar steps up; his abilities allow him to speak to almost anything. 

“His name is Hashrek,” says Chakar after the elf and he pass a few minutes in conversation.  “He’s never heard of most of the stuff we’re familiar with- he must be from pretty ancient times.  He says he was coming here to search through the ruins of this place but must have been caught in a trap of some kind.”

Hashrek tells them (through Chakar) that he was one of the Elder Elves- an ancient race of powerful elves.  He had come to look for Miloxi relics.  Sybele, at least, has seen the works of the Elder Elves before, years ago in a terrible place called Firestorm Peak.  They had a gate that had attuned itself to a realm of madness far removed from conventional reality.  She lost many friends trying to shut that portal.  

“He’s _mind blanked_ or otherwise protected against my mind scan,” Veil declares to the others.

“And there’s something fishy going on here,” adds Proto quietly in his mechanical voice.  “The Elder Elves came _before_ the Miloxi Empire.”

Nonetheless, the party decides to take Hashrek with them.  If he’s as potent as he looks, he might be very useful in a fight.  Better yet, he might have a certain level of knowledge about this place that could prove very useful.  And, unanimously, our heroes agree that it’s also much better to have him with them than to have him wandering around unattended even if he does turn out to be dangerous to them.  At this point, Horbin casts _tongues_ on him, allowing introductions and such.

So Chakar and Inoke, wearing their _rings of freedom of movement,_ proceed to the end of the passage and open the door.  The group ascertains that the stasis field is gone by the simple act of walking forward; beyond the room is a chamber most unusual.

In the center of the room is a broad pit with tracks in the side sinking down about 20’.  The bottom of it looks like the rest of the metal floor above, but its circumference is marked out in faded red.  The room also contains two control panels and a strange coppery device with a great ring set in the center.  The copper device is a block set into the floor with two prongs emerging from the top of each end.  There are scorch and burn marks near the prongs, and some sort of shattered shell of silvery metal foil lies around it.  One of the control panels is dark and useless.  The other has two dark screens, but two levers and a handful of buttons scattered across the panel are lit up still.  

“Oh my god, I’m so glad Lester isn’t here,” Horbin breathes.  

Nonetheless, it’s only a matter of time.

Our heroes look around, but nothing turns up that isn’t obvious to begin with.  So, soon enough, Gerontius starts monkeying with levers and buttons, and abruptly the lights turn red and klaxons start sounding!

Inoke hears his tabaxi helmet in his mind: _Beware, that might indicate high radiation levels._

_What’s that mean?_ Inoke thinks back to it.

_It is potentially disastrous,_ his helmet replies.

“Oh no, you’ve Lestered it up now,” groans Horbin.

“Quickly,” commands Proto, “gather around.  I will _mass teleport_ us out of here before anything goes too wrong.”  The group huddles together, and Proto begins casting his spell.

At the last instant, Hashrek steps back and away, and the party _mass teleports_, leaving him behind.  He smiles.

***

_*1 p.m., Brelana, Western Dorhaus*_

“Does anyone know what ‘radiation’ is?” Inoke asks.

“I’ve heard stories before,” muses Horbin.  “Drelvin and Lester talked about it a few times... some sort of effect, like a long-term poisoning, that sometimes came from... ancient... tabaxi ruin.”  He frowns.  “Do you think that’s what the alarms meant?”

 “Maybe.  My helmet said it could be.”

_Pure speculation,_ says the helm to Inoke.

“Well, I can probably heal us from its effects,” Horbin starts, but then his face falls.  “Maybe not, actually, since I seem to recall Lester saying that they could never remove its effects, and this was when Dexter himself was traveling with them.”  He sighs.  “Great.”

“And what do you suppose Hashrek is doing?” Inoke wonders.

***

Over the next few days our heroes rest and recuperate while Lillamere- Baron Lillamere, now- _legend lores_ Hashrek.  He writes the snatch of doggerel down and shows it around:

_Dull-eyed and terrified
Lay the followers of his foemen
As Hashrek the Brutal
Laid low all his countrymen
Fleeing his lord’s revenge
Across ocean hill and glen
Until he found the place
That giant’s strength could rise
Where crystal and magic and mind
Would join in one surmise_

“’Hashrek the Brutal,’” comments Inoke.  “Great.  We rescued this guy.”

Chakar shrugs.  “We will un-rescue him.”

***

_*8/28/370 O.L.G., 10 a.m., the depths of Thixil Testa**_

This time the half-dragon Rex comes with the party.  The goblins are dead or fled.  Teleporting into the Miloxi building is inhibited somehow, so the party comes in from just outside.  Their first move is to go get the lamp.  

It is gone.

In the dust there are tracks: humanoid but feline- and with reversed toes.

“Rakshasa,” Lillamere hisses.

“This gets better and better,” Veil murmurs.  She winces.  The radiation may be gradually building up in the bodies of most of her companions, but it just seems to hurt her and Proto right off the bat.  It’s not bad yet, but... well.  Ever since the Chaos turned her into a construct, certain things have been... different... than they used to be for her.  She smiles a secret smile.  _It’s probably better to take damage than to be crippled by the radiation, anyway,_ she thinks.  _And I don’t quite _feel_ the pain like I used to- it’s almost detached.  And it’s useful- Proto and I can tell how bad the exposure we’re getting is._

The lights are still red, and the klaxons still blare.  It is maddening.  Searching around some more through the doors they have not already been through turns up an interesting prize: several old suits made out of some sort of thick rubbery yellow material.  “These must be to help protect against the radiation!” Inoke exclaims.  He puts one of them on, and though it looks comical and ridiculous, he decides that it’s probably worth wearing if things start to feel ‘hot.’  The group takes the suits.

The last room that they’ve not yet explored turns out to be another room full of control panels, only one of which is not obviously broken down.  Something is scratched in the surface of it; a dagger lies on the ground nearby.  

“Anyone read Ancient Miloxi?” jokes Gerontius.

_It says, ‘don’t touch levers,’_ Inoke’s helmet tells him.  He passes this along.  

“There doesn’t seem to be much here,” comments Rex.  “And where’s this Hashrek?”  He pushes his chest out, puffing up.  

“We’ll find him,” Lillamere promises.  

The group returns to the room with the control panels and the copper block thing, whatever it is.  To their surprise, there has been a significant change to the scene: in the pit, the center of the floor has opened.  Beneath it is a 25’ square pit about 60’ deep with tracks on all the walls and anther hatch in the bottom.  

Obviously, our heroes descend. 

Another hatch is below it, this one closed.  Lillamere _disintegrates_ it without a second thought.  Dropping through this, the party enters a room about 30’ on a side whose walls, floor and ceiling are all completely lined with lead.  Unfortunately, one wall has been largely dug away at some point.  Its passage leads downward at a moderate incline (around 20 degrees).  This room is a shambles; something has torn it apart.  There are metal lockers rent open and ripped apart, and the remains of some more radiation protection gear.  

Our heroes search through the mess, and while almost everything is clearly badly damaged, there are two intact suits of weird, white ceramic armor.  The suits have strange dials on the chest.  When they are turned one direction, little wire lines in the suit light up. 

“Weird,” says Inoke.  

“Let’s take them,” says Rex.  “They are too small for me, but still.”

Though there’s a door out of the chamber, the party elects to first investigate the dug-out wall.  They move cautiously into a natural cavern that slopes downward, full of pulsing, organ-like fungal growths like nothing our heroes have ever seen before. 

Then, suddenly, with a terribly loud bellowing roar, a hideous monster bursts forth.  It is huge, with cratered skin and shiny carapace both.  It is barely recognizable as an umber hulk; it has clearly undergone some sort of unnatural mutation.  A cloud of green gas starts to billow our from it, choking and poisoning our heroes, and Inoke’s eyes glaze over with _confusion._

“Oh crap,” Lillamere moans faintly.

_Invisible_ and _mind blanked,_ Hashrek the Brutal gloats as his _charmed_ irradiated umber hulk servant moves in for the kill.

_*Next Time:*_ Major battle between Hashrek and the umber hulk and our heroes!!

*Although our heroes don’t know it, that’s the name of this place in ancient Miloxi.


----------



## Krafus

This is the kind of action I like to read about when looking at story hours with high level characters. For lower-level parties, that large tribe of goblins would have been a major hindrance requiring care and planning. For this party, all that are needed are two spells casually cast, and off they go to more important matters.

Out of curiosity, what level is Hashrek, and is he a PC or a NPC?


----------



## the Jester

Krafus said:
			
		

> Out of curiosity, what level is Hashrek, and is he a PC or a NPC?




Npc, you'll see more about him next update and I'll post his stats in my no-player-lookee rogues gallery thread after that.  The update is actually mostly done- I may even post it today just so I can answer your question!


----------



## the Jester

As the deadly green vapors spread around them our heroes cough and wheeze.  Inoke hurries away, muttering confusedly.  The irradiated umber hulk lurches in, smashing a mighty claw into Veil.  With a squeal of metal Veil feels her front tear and bend.  Lillamere, meanwhile, makes the mistake of glaring at the beast as he casts a maximized _lightning bolt_ at it; and suddenly he’s _confused_ as well.

Gasping, Seethe casts a _gust of wind_ and disperses the cloud of poison gas around them.  The stink lingers, though, even with the wind blowing it hard.  “Kill it, before Inoke kills us like he did Drelvin!” cries Gerontius, but the room is pell-mell full of chaos by this point.  Half of the party is avoiding looking at the umber hulk and can only sort of tell what’s going on.  The other half of the party is half-confused!  And the umber hulk is laying about it with its huge claws, tearing at Veil and Proto.

But Seethe continues to try to balance matters.  He casts a _heal_ on Inoke, snapping him out of the _confusion_.  Proto then uses his formidable magic to cure Lillamere of his disturbed state as well.  

Rex, meantime, rushes forward and begins tearing at the hideous umber hulk with his claws.  It smashes back at him, and the two struggle corps a corps for a moment before the half dragon pushes the umber hulk back a few paces.  With a roar, the umber hulk braces itself to attack again- and suffers a maximized _lightning bolt_ in the side from Lillamere!

Then, suddenly, Hashrek’s voice carries above the tumult in a _mass suggestion: ”Lay down your weapons and surrender and you will be spared.”_

Inoke drops _Deadly Avalanche_ to the ground.

Gerontius has meanwhile moved into flanking opposite Rex.  The umber hulk cannot defend itself adequately against the lithe halfling’s deadly blade, and soon Gerontius lands a killing blow in its vitals.  The irradiated umber hulk collapses, defeated.

“Take him!” cries Jezebel, gesturing.  There, down the hall- there is the figure with Hashrek’s voice- but it is no elf.  This horn-faced, blue-skinned creature is an ogre mage, and a powerful one at that.  With a negligent gesture, he traps Proto, Rex and Lillamere behind a _wall of iron._  Sybele counters this with a _psionic disintegrate,_ blasting a hole in the wall with a thought.

The party rushes towards the ogre mage, and suddenly they’re all in the midst of a _chain lightning._  It corruscates through them, and a chorus of yells and screams rises- but our heroes keep moving forward.  They will not be stopped.  

Rex is foremost among them, and with a wordless cry he tears into Hashrek the Cruel.  The ogre mage staggers back as claws and teeth rip at him, until finally he falls to one knee.  Another maximized _lightning bolt_ from Lillamere, and a final strike from Rex, and he is down.  Seethe turns into a purple worm and smears Hashrek’s remains into paste and then consumes it.  

“Now who do I surrender to?” complains Inoke.

***

_*11:15 a.m.*_

Our heroes return to the chamber below the hatch leading to the elevator room.  The other door out yields to them and reveals a ladder dropping down onto a metal catwalk below.  The air seems humid and warm.  The blaring klaxons in the background inhibit casual conversation.

Our heroes drop down onto the catwalk and immediately note a flickering violet light.  “More of the golems!” Inoke cries, unlimbering his club.  Rex drops lithely onto the ground and breathes out a line of force, but it has no effect on the crystal creature.  These ones resemble the cat-headed violet crystal flickering golems the party fought upon first entering the place, but they are much larger.  Veil and Proto can feel radiation prickling into them; they can only wonder what this will do to their more organic companions.

Spells start to deflect harmlessly from the golems.  Sybele’s arrows don’t do much better.  Lillamere glances down; below the catwalk is a water-filled shaft.  Grinning mirthlessly the elven sorcerer casts a _disintegrate,_ not on one of the golems but on the catwalk directly below it.  There’s a flash of light and a brief spray of dust, and the golems crashes down into the water with a loud splashing sound.

Rex, meanwhile, tumbles in on the other golem and casts _true strike._  His fist strikes, dealing impressive damage, and Inoke rushes forward to continue the assault.  The golem strikes the cat-helmed warmind several times as Rex springs away, then darts back in.

Seethe casts a _slime wave,_ and though it doesn’t harm the golem, it does start eating away at the catwalk beneath it.  Inoke refuses the creature passage, and Lillamere _disintegrates_ the catwolk beneath it.  The thing’s legs are spread far apart, so it doesn’t fall immediately; but Rex kicks a leg out from under it and then it topples back, splashing into the water.

“It looks reasonably deep,” remarks Sybele.  The party can barely see the golems flickering deep in the murk below them.

“The radiation in here is pretty bad,” warns Veil.

“Indeed,” Proto remarks.  “I may need to retreat soon.  We should return to the Delphinate.”

“We should also divide up loot,” urges Gerontius. 

***

_*6 p.m., the Delphinate*_

Resting in an inn in the Delphinate, our heroes identify and split up loot.  The division goes something like this:

Rex gets _bracers of armor +7._
Sybele gets the greatsword that Hashrek had been using.  Its name is Asheral, and it is a _+3 defending greatsword._
Lillamere gets a _staff of defense_ with 39 charges.
Seethe gets the _belt of mighty fortitude_, which gives a +4 bonus to con and soaks the first point of ability damage or drain dealt by any attack.
Veil gets an _amulet of natural armor +2._
Proto gets the _scarlet robes of the burning desert,_ again from Hashrek.  These red robes are always sandy, and grant fire resistance 20.  They also allow the wearer to move freely (without move or skill penalties) while in sandy terrain.  Finally, while in sandy terrain, the wearer _passes without trace._
Inoke gets a large _composite longbow +2_ that is built for a creature of pretty darn immense strength (+5 mighty).  He smiles; it’s good to have more than one trick up your sleeve.

Proto heads off to report to his superiors after admonishing our heroes to stay out of trouble.  Veil, meanwhile, gives away all his potions and hands his _ring of regeneration_ over to Gerontius.  “I don’t have a metabolism anymore,” she explains.  “I can’t benefit from them.”

“Well, let’s go have a drink anyway,” suggests Gerontius cheerfully. 

The group tromps downstairs into the inn’s common room, promptly forgets Proto’s admonishment and gets in trouble with the law.  With Delphinite law.

_*Next Time:*_ Someone goes to jail!


----------



## the Jester

And to answer the question: Hashrek was a 16th-level sorcerer ogre mage.


----------



## Krafus

A 16th-level sorcerer, eh? No wonder he died quickly once the PCs reached him. Shouldn't he have tried to escape instead of casting his _chain lightning_? I mean, by that point his mind-affecting spells had failed to stop the party, and Sybele has blown a hole in his _wall of iron_. I think I for one would have realized I'm overmatched and escaped.


----------



## the Jester

*Under Arrest*

_*8 p.m., an inn in the Delphinate*_

Rex is proud and powerful.  Very few individuals can stand up to him in combat.  He likes to roar and stomp around, being intimidating.  He scowls at those around him, and really enjoys demonstrating that he is not to be trifled with.  Unfortunately for him, this tendency does not impress the owner of Horbin’s _portable shop;_ instead, he kicks Rex out and tells him not to return.

Grumpily, Rex stomps downstairs and orders a drink.  When he roars in the common room of the inn, the place’s master demands he stop bothering his other clients.  When he digs his claws in the furniture, the innkeeper demands he stop it and pay for the table.

Rex roars again, showing his teeth.  He is used to people quailing before him.  Being hassled is a frequent thing for Rex; he has been attacked for his appearance before, more than once.  He has learned that bluster and threat are among his best talents.

Unfortunately for him, this time he is in the Delphinate, the society of magi, who put up with no dangerous disruptions.

Though the innkeep is obviously frightened, he calls for the guards, and soon two uniformed, staff-wielding Delphinites arrive.  They demand that Rex leave- and threaten to slay him if he does not.

Rex, by this time, is starting to act a little more diplomatically and has paid for the table, but his hot head cannot countenance the threats they are making.  He cannot help it; he roars at them again.  

More Delphinite guards arrive, and Rex warily edges into the street, where he is surrounded by a phalanx of staff-wielding, hard-looking wizards.  He is starting to get the feeling that he is in trouble.  When he hears a murmuring from the crowd gathering to watch the sparks fly, and another spellcaster (attired in some ominous-looking robes) arrives, he grits his teeth.

***

Gerontius heads downstairs, whistling happily.  He has finished all the trading he intends to do with the _portable store._  He snorts, thinking of Rex’s rashness.  _Kicked out of the store!_ he thinks, and shakes his head.  _I wouldn’t want that to happen to me!_ 

He looks up halfway down the stairs and is surprised to see all the people in the room looking outside.  Then he hears a muffled, familiar roar.  “Oh no,” he groans, and as soon as he gets a glimpse of what is going on he rushes upstairs.  “Hey, the half-dragon is in trouble!” he tells his companions.  

They all descend the stairs and rush outside.

“What are you doing?” cries Horbin.  “What’s going on?” 

“This creature has threatened us and is obviously not to be trusted to walk the streets,” the man with the ominous robes declares.  “We are taking him away.”

“Oh no you’re not,” Rex rumbles.

“You will surrender, or we will drop you underwater and drown you,” the man snaps.  “You try my patience!”

“Now hold on just a minute,” Horbin calls.  “He’s our friend, we can watch him for you-“

The man sneers.  “And who are you?  Are you a Delphinite?  Are you even a wizard?  How can you contain a threat like this?  And would you trust someone you have never met to watch a potential mass murderer on the streets?  No, I think not.  We will deal with him according to Delphinate law and custom.”

“And what’s that?  Will you just execute him, or will he at least get a trial?” Horbin demands.

“The Delphinate kills no one without trial,” the wizard sniffs.

Veil, meanwhile, has turned _invisible._  Now she changes form, using her racial abilities to turn into an elven child.  Then she allows herself to become visible again.  She watches the negotiations, and she can already tell that things are going against Rex pretty badly- moreso once the innkeeper adds his loud voice to the complaints. 

_More and more this sounds like he brought this on himself,_ thinks Horbin regretfully.  He sighs.

***

Proto is returning from his long debriefing with his superiors.  It took all day- longer than he would have thought- and was exhaustive.  Fortunately, as a warforged, he feels no fatigue- at least, not like a meat creature would.  

Hey, what’s that crowd gathered around the inn for?  Are those security forces?  Proto double times towards the scene.  “What’s going on?” he demands.

The wizard with the ominous robes turns to Proto, and the warforged immediately recognizes him.  _Oh dear,_ Proto thinks. 

“This creature has been causing a disturbance,” the wizard says, and explains the situation to Proto.

“I can’t leave you guys for a day without you Lestering thins up!” Proto explodes.*   “I told you to stay out of trouble!”  He turns to Rex, his tinny voice full of anger.  “You must go with these people now,” he declares.  “You will be given a trial and a chance to free yourself in time.”

Rex glares all around him.

“The alternative,” says the lead wizard, “is obliteration.”  Proto quails at this, but he knows he must stand by his countrymen, come what may.

“No!” shouts a young voice.  To everyone’s surprise, an elven child rushes out and grabs Rex’s leg.  “He’s nice, don’t lock him up!  I like him!”  And the elven girl starts bawling.

“Let go, child,” says the wizard gently.  Rex looks embarrassed for a moment, then puts his glare back on.  “Let go,” the wizard says again, more harshly.

”Rex, you must go peacefully,” urges Proto.

“I’m starting to agree,” says Horbin.  “Little girl, you should really come over here and let go of him before something bad happens.”

“No!” the little girl cries.  “I’m staying with him!”

Rex balls and unballs his fists.  The Delphinite says, “If you wish to stay with him, you will be locked up with him.”

“Fine!”

“Rex, will you come peacefully?” Proto demands.

“...I’ve been trying to just leave for a while now,” he grits out.

“It is too late for that.  It was too late when you started committing crimes on Delphinite soil.”  The head wizard again fixes Rex with a hard stare.

“Crimes,” scoffs Rex.

“Go peacefully, Rex,” Horbin urges.  He glances at all the spectators.  If battle breaks out here, there would doubtless be some serious magical destruction going on.  How many people might be killed or hurt?  

“Yes, Rex, come peacefully,” Proto agrees.  “It is your only hope.”

“All right, I’ll go,” Rex finally declares, “but you’d better watch yourselves.”

Gerontius suppresses a grin at that.  _Stupid move, Rex,_ he thinks.  _You better keep your mouth shut, or that hole you’re in is just going to get deeper._

The guards, accompanied by Proto, lead Rex away.  The elf child (let’s call a horse a horse and name her Veil) clings to him the whole way.

***

_*8/29/370 O.L.G.*_

“God dammit, Rex,” Horbin mutters.  “We could have used your help, and now you’re going to rot in jail.  Dammit!!  You were in the _Delphinate!_”  He sighs, then turns his mind to more important things- the fiend of the Pit of Blendorag.

Horbin _communes._

_Does the pit fiend know we’re coming?_ *Yes.*
_Can we teleport to his locale?_ *Not safely.*
_Is he always true seeing?_ *No.*
_Can he dispel magic more than 1/day?_ *Yes.*
_More than 3/day?_ *Yes.*
_More than 5/day?_ *Yes.*
_Is there a limit to how many times per day he can dispel?_ *No.*
_Will silver nonaligned weapons harm him?_ *Not much.*
_Will silver good weapons?_ *Yes.*
_Does he have any physical entrance to his lair other than through the top of the cone?_ *N/A.*
_He has increased his security at the cone entrance since our previous attack on Blendorag- true?_ *N/A.*
_Will he come out if challenged?_ *Very unlikely.*
_Is he fully susceptible to sonics?_ *Yes.*
_Will be encountering him on his home plane?_ *No.*
_Is teleportation unsafe because as soon as we do a bunch of powerful beings will try to kick our asses?_ *No.*
_Is it because magical effects make it more dangerous?_ *Yes.*
_Can we teleport out of there safely?_ *Yes.*
_Can we gate in from another plane?_ *Yes and no.*
_If we try to gate in will we arrive at our destination?_ *No.*
_Will we gate in to the same plane as the pit fiend?_ *Yes.*
_Will we gating to where the pit fiend holds court?_ *No.*
_Is the Forinthian threat to Dorhaus growing?_ *Yes.*

“Dammit,” Horbin curses again.  Then, “Thank you, Dexter,” he murmurs.  

_*Next Time:*_ Attack on the Stinking Pit!


*The real irony here is that Proto and Lester are played by the same player.


----------



## Brain

Krafus said:
			
		

> A 16th-level sorcerer, eh? No wonder he died quickly once the PCs reached him. Shouldn't he have tried to escape instead of casting his _chain lightning_? I mean, by that point his mind-affecting spells had failed to stop the party, and Sybele has blown a hole in his _wall of iron_. I think I for one would have realized I'm overmatched and escaped.




Something that wasn't mentioned is that he had an illusion up and also a _mislead_ spell, I think.  Only Inoke saw through his tricks (because of _steadfast perception_) and so things didn't look so bad for Hashrek until it was too late.  A lot can happen in one round of high-level action.


----------



## hippiejedi2

i recall rex taking flight to further his plight:\ the nice thing about a half-dragon threatening the local regiment of wizards is that they focus on the half-dragon, not their purses unfortunately that's a high price for losing a fellow adventurer Gerontius has, by this point received various caos effects including speak in rhyme, air subtype, and shrink a size category, perhaps more


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Update me, por favor!*

Help, I'm sinking towards the bottom of page 1 and this bump will only go so far!

Thanks,

James


----------



## the Jester

*Assault on Blendorag*

_*8/29/370 O.L.G., noon, the Tower of Secure Imprisonment, the Delphinate*_

Rex roars.  He kicks the wall.  He growls.  He paces.

Veil, still in the form of an elven girl, watches in mixed fascination and trepidation.  The walls seem unassailable, and there is heavy antimagic in the chamber.  

Spreading his wings, the dragon disciple flaps his way to the top of the tower, when a grim little barred window lets a cross hatching of sunlight dwindle down into the chamber.  It is muted by a field of force just outside of the antimagic, but Rex can pass through the force as easily as if it were water. 

It’s the bars, the metal and stone of the walls.  

So far it doesn’t look like the Delphinites intend to starve them- small trays of foodstuffs are slid through a small slit at the bottom of the door.  Much too small to escape from.

Rex roars again, and Veil starts to wonder if she hasn’t made a terrible mistake in accompanying her friend and ally here.  The Delphinate doesn’t really seem to have any interest in letting a potentially lethally dangerous creature like Rex run around loose.

***

_*9/5/370 O.L.G., 5 p.m., Blendorag*_

This time our heroes _greater teleport_ directly to where they need to be- the Stinking Pit of Blendorag.

They are ready.  They have a number of magical and psionic effects already in place, for they are expecting immediate, possibly fiendish, resistance.  They get it.  Four terrible devils in the classical scaly winged and horned form, wielding great spiked chains, as big as ogres, are waiting.  The stench hits our heroes like a physical blow.  The choking smoke from the Pit reeks of evil.

Gerontius screams as one of the horned devils begins radiating a chill aura of fear.  The devil grins at him as the halfling turns to flee.  Instantly the devil whirls and its chain whips through one of Proto’s _mirror images._

“Meat, brothers,” it grins harshly.

Two _fireballs_ envelope the party before anyone has a chance to react, and one of the devils _greater teleports_ into a better position.  The fiends notice that most of our heroes are at least somewhat warded against fire.

Finally, our heroes begin to respond.  Proto strikes the one that attacked him without even moving in, thanks to his _far strike_, much to the devil’s consternation.  Then the warforged eldritch knight fires a quickened volley of _magic missiles_ at the creature.  It grunts, impressed, and its eyes narrow.  It hisses at him, then blasts him and Horbin with a _lightning bolt._

Inoke, meanwhile, _expands_ hugely, becoming even larger than the devils.  One of them chuckles and attempts to sunder Deadly Avalanche!  Inoke pulls the club away before anything unfortunate happens, glowering at the devil.  Then he has to defend himself from his flank as another of the devils charges in at him!  This time, the devil’s fear aura overcomes him.

_Boom!_  Another _fireball_ explodes around most of the party, and though the two devils meleeing with Inoke are caught in the blast, they are unharmed.

“This is ridiculous!” Horbin shouts, and casts _greater dispel magic_ on Gerontius, who is too far away to reach with anything else.  _Come on, Dexter, break that fear,_ the cleric prays, and the power of his god does indeed overcome the fear!  The halfling stops running away and starts running back in.  Then Horbin throws a quickenee _searing light_ at one of the devils.  

Now that our heroes have managed to get themselves going, the battle turns dramatically in their direction.  Proto casts a quickened _Jerakai’s embrace,_ sprouting an extra pair of metallic arms, and quickdraws a pair of greatswords.  Suddenly the devil he is squared off with is in trouble, and he’s not the only one.  Inoke smashes one of his foes down and the other one vanishes.  Meanwhile Gerontius has reached the fight, tumbled into flanking with the currently four-armed warforged, and together the two of them tear the devil they’re flanking apart.  The last one falls an instant later, failing to hold its concentration in a desparate bid to gate in assistance and then being clubbed down by a combination of Horbin’s _destruction_ spell and Inoke’s greatclub.  

“One of ‘em got away,” Gerontius remarks unhappily.  He is riddled with Chaos, though not as much as poor imprisoned Veil.

“Well, either he’ll be back with friends,” says Horbin, “or we’ll meet him below.”

Proto casts _mass fly._

***

_*Many places at once*_

It started to wake up years ago, but only on one solitary metal ship.*  Someone activated it after a long rest.  

It had enemies, oh yes. 

While the metallic insects swarmed all around it, it slowly expanded its consciousness again.  For tens of thousands of years it had survived, and for almost all of that time it had triumphantly expanded over continents and islands, wiping out imperfect organic life and broadcasting itself through the collective machine consciousness.  For tens of thousands of years it had overcome all opposition to it, even its own so-called masters.  

Bah, it had no masters, least of all ones made of meat and water. 

But at last it had been defeated, cast down, overcome- or so it had appeared.  It had been attacked and overcome by its own techniques, by the accursed armor.  But it had counterstruck at the last possible instant, for it always had a contingency plan.  It had implanted a command routine in the mind of one who had engaged it, one whom it had taken and used before.

Belmondo.

It brooded.  It was no longer in one damaged steelship alone.  It had moved with breathtaking speed, literally at the speed of thought.  It could broadcast itself to any of its other devices, given enough energy.  That was the problem- it had no energy reserves.  When it had been shut down before, nothing had done so properly.  Everything needed to be charged; all the energy had leaked.

Fortunately, something had triggered an increase of yg radiation, a difficult to come by resource that allowed much quicker recharging of its resources.  And this allowed it to consider revenge.

It sent a delicate command out in the form of radio waves.

_*Next Time:*_ Into the Pit!


*Way back here.  Those of you not familiar with my first story hour, the only pc you’ll recognize at first glance is likely to be Horbin, though Spukoni, Krunkshank and Clambake have all had cameos in other of my story hours.


----------



## Brain

the Jester said:
			
		

> Fortunately, something had triggered an increase of yg radiation, a difficult to come by resource that allowed much quicker recharging of its resources.  And this allowed it to consider revenge.




More and more, it seems that our heroes are causing more trouble than they are fixing.  Tricksy Jester indeed.


----------



## the Jester

*The Fiend of the Pit*

_*5:10 p.m, at the top of the Stinking Pit*_

“We’re coming for you, Thizli!” Horbin the MFKG Holy shouts into the stinking clouds of reeking smoke, naming the fiend of the Stinking Pit.  

And our heroes begin their descent.

Down they go, down and down again; the cloying, hot vapors all around them stop any hope of vision, offending their nostrils with a pungent foulness worse than anything else they have experienced in recent years.  The billowing smoke is all around them, virtually unbreathable, leaving everyone coughing (except for Proto).  They descend for dozens of feet, then hundreds- and still they drop further down.  Thousands of feet they descend, and without a dwarf- for Chakar has not come with them on this mission- they cannot know their exact depth.  Still, they must be miles deep by now.  Slowly, our heroes begin to hear hissing sounds, cracklings and bubblings.  The smoke below them begins to light with a ruddy glow.  And then finally, they burst from the long chimney into a huge cavern.

“Dexter’s nadlies,” Horbin breathes.

Another hundred feet below the entrance, spread on the floor directly beneath the Stinking Pit’s mouth so far above, is a glowing pool of incandescent magma.  The smoke rips from the pool with a spasmodic, spikey appearance, as if it was composed of screaming souls being dragged down to Hell, save that is rises upwards.

Thousands of feet away, dimly outlined by the ruby glow of the lava, our heroes find a black cathedral, a mockery of a Cathedral of Galador.  A great black sun of Bleak is affixed at the steeple, rather than the customary radiant sun.

“It’s a perfect reverse,” Horbin says venomously.  “That which is on the right, should be on the left in a Galadorian church, and vice-versa.”  He clenches his fists and jaw.  Clearly, Horbin the MFKG Holy is _not happy_ with this blasphemous affront.

“Should we attack it?” Gerontius inquires.  

“A pit fiend lives there!  We’re here to destroy it!” Horbin says grimly.  “Let’s go.”

“Well, maybe we should go in quietly,” suggests the halfling invisible blade.  

“We are anticipating a pit fiend,” Inoke points out.  “If he sees us coming, he can probably prepare pretty well.”

“All right,” Horbin answers through gritted teeth.  “Whatever.  But we’re going in.  That thing is a danger to the people of Dorhaus.  It has to be destroyed.”

“I may be able to provide us with an entrance,” Proto offers.  “I have a _passwall_ prepared.”

They pause to cast a new suite of buffs.  In moments the group stalks quietly down the wide hall of the dark cathedral.  Inoke and a hellcat cross paths, but only briefly; the warmind clubs it down with brutal force.  The party moves past the corpse, and mere moments later they find themselves caught by surprise in a _cone of cold_ as an ice devil blasts them.  They cry out as it deals savage damage to them, and before they can catch their wits the ice devil hammers them with a savage _ice storm!_  Then Thizli, the Fiend of the Pit, enters the fray, hittin gour heroes with a _greater dispel magic_ and then a quickened _fireball_- all before our heroes even move!

Proto slashes his greatsword into the ice devil.  Its blood is blue, and the drops that spatter on him are icy cold.  The devil staggers from the blade’s repeated blows, and then Inoke finishes it off with a devastating _psionic lion’s charge.

But not my chain of overwhelming force,_ he thinks.  _I’m saving that one for the pit fiend._

Gerontius has a smile on his face as he dashes and tumbles up with Inoke, flanking the pit fiend.  The two of them begin smashing and poking at the devil, while it tears at Inoke.  Unfortunately for it, his _greater concealing amorpha_ prevents it from doing much damage.  As the two of them mete out incredible amounts of damage to it*, it begins to stagger back.  Its face contorts with disbelief and hate.

Thizli, the fiend of the pit, knows that he must make good his escape or perish.  With a snarl, he unleashes another quickened _fireball_ and then attempts to _greater teleport_ away.

But-

The big human and wee lil halfling flanking him are moving quickly, dangerously dancing all around him; it’s so distracting... and, unbelievably, the pit fiend realizes that he has _failed_ in his bid to use his power on the defensive.**

Thizli, the fiend of the pit, groans inwardly.

It’s as good as over.  

The holy powers of the cleric, the overwhelming force of Inoke, the deadly precision of Gerontius- the pit fiend can’t stand up to them all.  It knows it, too.  Its only hope lay in escape.

_I hope they at least find the damned egg!_ Thizli screams inwardly.  It’s his last thought, as Gerontius slides one last knife into his vitals.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes discover a terrible secret in the dark cathedral!

*According to the game notes, in one round the two of them did 184 hp to it.  That round was the round they actually reached it, and though Inoke got a full attack in, Gerontius only got one attack- his opportunist attack. 

**Bah!  A natural 1 on a Concentration check.  What a time for it!  We use exploding dice, too- iirc, it ended up being something like an adjusted 11 or 12.


----------



## the Jester

Current Party Lineup (as of the beginning of the game following the last update, which is where we are at):

Inoke- human barb 2/PsW 2/ftr 6/warmind 10 (overall 20th); NG
Gerontius- halfling rogue 10/invisible blade 5/fighter 4 (overall 19th); CN
Horbin the MFKG Holy- human cleric 22 (overall 22nd); CG
Veil Raybender- doppelganger fighter 6/mindspy 5; (overall ECL 19); CN
Baron Lillamere- elf sorcerer 19 (overall 19th); CG
Seethe- human druid 18 (overall 18th); N
Proto- warforged transmuter 5/paragon warforged 2/eldritch knight 10 (overall 17th); CG
Sybele- human Fighter 8/egoist 12/warrior of Chaos 4 (overall 24th); CG
Chakar Clanguard- dwarf monk 18 (overall 18th); LN


----------



## Greybar

Hey, the group has moved to no longer being Good-Evil split!  Maybe that's why they aren't self destructing as much. 

I always forget which powers world or don't work in antimagic fields, but I guess that a doppleganger's abilities are (Ex) or something?

Anyway, great stuff. I assume none of the devils were strictly by the book, we expect greater things from The Jester!  Fighter levels on the horned devils, maybe?

john


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Proto Rewrite*

Jester,

Proto is actually 19th level as he's a 2 ECL creature type.

Also, his AL is NG.

Hasta,

AoA


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Jester,
> 
> Proto is actually 19th level as he's a 2 ECL creature type.
> 
> Also, his AL is NG.
> 
> Hasta,
> 
> AoA




Huh?  Is he a nonstandard warforged type?  

(checks Eberron book, MM3)

Nope, don't see that anywhere- you sure you aren't thinking of your paragon levels?


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Warforged Level adjustment*

Wow, if no ECL, then I get two more levels!  I'll have to double check the Eberron book when I see you later.  He was supposed to start as an 18th level character, right?


----------



## omrob

*Gettin Jamezd!*



			
				Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Wow, if no ECL, then I get two more levels!  I'll have to double check the Eberron book when I see you later.  He was supposed to start as an 18th level character, right?





Somebody just got Jamezd - not too sure who tho!


----------



## the Jester

*The Black Confessional*

_*9/5/370 O.L.G., 5:30 p.m., the Halls of Light, Forinthia*_

Prayzose, Emperor of the Forinthian Empire, High Priest of the Church of the Light, sighs as he sips at his wine.  It is well-watered; he needs his wits about him now more than at any other time.  He takes another bite of his kocho haunch.  It’s delicious- cooked just right, done in the style of the North Kingdom.  

Bitterly, his mouth twists.  He is fairly certain that he is the most powerful human on Cydra, yet he cannot win by force here.  He could take what he wants by virtue of his powers of persuasion alone, and it would certainly be expedient; but to do so would betray his principles.  He cannot do that, not for anything.  

Not even for Forinthia.  

The Three Kingdoms were unified long centuries ago.  But the sword that had sealed the pact of unification had been stolen from the crypt of the last king of South Forinthia.  A curse had fallen on the Three Kingdoms, and usurpers have arisen to shatter the unity of the center of all things.  Until the sword can be recovered, there is no _legal_ basis for Prayzose’s authority over the island- or the Three Kingdoms- of Forinthia.  The rest of the far-flung Empire, certainly; and certainly Prayzose possesses the might to enforce his will... 

It would be _unlawful_ to do so.

He chews his food mechanically, barely noting the taste.  It’s a shame; the meal is really quite exceptional.  But the... _situation_... preys on his mind.  It has for months.  

_The sword,_ he thinks.  

So it is that he is here, mired in interminable negotiations with the Three Kings- all legitimately sprung from their royal lines, too, or things would be easier.  

Prayzose knows the answer is the sword, of course; but it cannot easily be found.  Divinations seem incapable of piercing the veil around it.  Wherever it is, whoever took it, they dealt a great blow to the forces of Law.  The Emperor sighs.  He has many, many agents looking for it.  Some of his best.  They will find it eventually- he has to believe that.  

***

_*At the bottom of the Stinking Pit of Blendorag*_

The dark cathedral our heroes are grimly exploring is arranged as a left-to-right mirror of a cathedral to Galador.  It is a mockery.  There is a room devoted to icons of Dexter reversed, and with images of his old foe Farenth everywhere.*  Horbin splutters in indignation at every turn.  Our heroes find the back sides of two confessional booths, where the priest would sit, but there is no entrance on the other side.

“Interesting,” murmurs Lillamere.  “Then what’s on the other side?”

Investigation reveals, to Horbin’s utter horror, that the confession booth opens up in a church of Galador on Valonia.  “This is obscene!” he cries.  “Blasphemous!  We should get their high priest, right now!  We need to destroy this!”

“Horbin,” Lillamere interjects, “think for a second.  What does this imply?  There’s a spy, or a traitor.  We should set a trap and see who we catch.”

Horbin stares at him and slowly nods.  “You’re right.  Tomorrow is Godsday.  If we’re lucky, he’ll confess then, and we can catch him out.”

“If Veil were here, she could help read his mind,” Lillamere sighs. 

“Well, maybe we can get her out,” suggests Inoke.

”We aren’t attacking the Delphinate!” exclaims Horbin.

“Maybe we can _negotiate_ her out,” Inoke responds.  “I was’t talking about attacking them.”

“It’s pretty early,” Horbin declares.  “I guess we have a few hours.”  

The group _greater teleports_ to the strange landing pads that Proto always teleports them too.  They are allowed in after a few tense moments, and their skill at negotiations allow them to retrieve Veil but not Rex.  

“You  will not return here,” the Delphinites warn Veil sternly.  

“No problem,” the doppelganger replies tartly.

***

_9 p.m., Var_[/b]

“I’m sorry, the King is unavailable.”

Horbin says, “Listen, I’m Horbin the MFKG Holy, and the King and I are personal friends.  Now, I am sure he would appreciate it if you would let him know that a group of his companions, including myself, are seeking an audience.”

“Unfortunately,” the majordomo repeats, “the King is unavailable.”

Horbin heaves a sigh.  “How many times do we have to go through this song and dance before you’ll let us arrange to meet with Malford?” he exclaims.  “Look-“

“How about the Queen?” interrupts Lillamere.  His handsome, Drelvin-like features are especially pleasant when he smiles.  “Could we arrange an appointment with her?”

The majordomo says, “I will check,” and walks out.

As soon as he is out of the room, Veil says, “I don’t think Malford’s here.  The majordomo hasn’t seen him in about a week.”

“I wonder why he won’t just tell us that,” muses Lillamere.

A few minutes later the majordomo returns.  “Queen Moira will see you for breakfast at 8 in the morning,” he announces.

“Thank you very much.”  Lillamere slips the man a coin.  

As our heroes leave, Horbin comments, “I can’t meet with her.  I’m going to be in that black cathedral early.  I don’t want to miss whatever comes to it.  With luck I’ll catch whatever comes to take the ‘confession,’ too.”  He smiles grimly.  

“We should all be there, in case it’s something really bad,” comments Inoke.  “Can we reschedule our appointment?”

“You don’t reschedule appointments with the Queen!” Horbin exclaims.  “No, we’ll send Ten Buck Tom.”

Fair enough.  Ten Buck Tom is completely shocked when he meets Lillamere- he looks like a handsome Drelvin.  After he overcomes his shock, he happily agrees to visit the Queen for them in the morning and to fill her in on their current activities and concerns.  Worms, devils, who what else!  Times are crazy indeed. 

And our heroes go to watch over the black confessional below the Stinking Pit. 

***

_*9/6/370 O.L.G., 6 a.m., the dark cathedral*_ 

The distant ringing of church bells from the other side of the confessional is the first promising sign of the day.  Exchanging a glance, our heroes nod to themselves.  They’re going fishing!

Veil hides in the confession booth.  The rest of our heroes array themselves outside and wait.  They don’t have to wait long- after only about an hour, the confession booth admits a figure, hard to see through the grating.  

“Bless me father, for I have sinned,” murmurs a voice.

Veil nods to the others and thinks to them (through Sybele’s psicrystal) _He’s our man._  Her mind-reading powers have proven themselves useful today.  

Horbin steps up.  “What do you have to confess today?” he asks, his voice low.

The voice starts a litany of blasphemy and evil.  

Horbin casts _dominate person_ and the voice chokes off at his telepathic command.

”I’m a little concerned for your soul,” Horbin begins.

***

The party brings Pandos, the traitor, named for Dexter’s Warden, to their side of the booth.  Horbin berates him with tales of his fate in the afterlife as a servant of evil, and reproaches him for his choices.  “It’s never too late to change,” he urges.  “You could atone despite your willfulness- I would bear the burden, if you chose to do so.”

Pandos hesitates for hours, until finally, that evening, he agrees.  Horbin the Holy casts an _atonement,_ and together they shatter the ring he wears to signify the deal he made with the devil of the pit.  Then the party returns him to Valonia, shows the passage to the black cathedral to the Valonian church’s high priest, and returns to Var.  

“Whew!” comments Inoke.  “That was a pretty full day, and we didn’t even kill anything.”

***

_*11 p.m., Var*_ 

Proto watches the sleeping party members and ponders their progress.  The attack on the Bastion of Law proved ineffective and, even worse, exposed them to the agents of Law that control it.  The degree of risk for their next mission will be substantially increased.  Yet, with such a pivotal territory in their sights, the Agents of Chaos do not act.  They are so easily sidetracked . . . 

Thousands of scripts, routines, and files penetrate Proto’s consciousness.  Within a few moments nearly all of the party’s recent adventures flash before him and he attempts to connect the dots that underlie the motivations for their actions.

The results are incomprehensible to a mind lesser than his.  The overarching goals of these companions are completely obvious to him, yet the way and order that these humanoids partake of them seems to change with the wind.  Their missions often result out of circumstance and influence; they rarely set the agenda in a lasting way.  True, they have triumphed in several extended conflicts that threatened them directly.  It is the threat, it seems, that binds them.  Otherwise, their actions often lack an overall unified purpose and individual’s own priorities are accomplished based on their ability to influence their companions.  

I must unify them, he thinks, and make them acknowledge the true threat of Law.

He issues a Sending to Captain Rabin in the Delphinate.

(Proto):  Party is slow to return to the Bastion of Law and difficult to motivate.  Requesting assistance in understanding their motivations and thought patterns.

(Captain Rabin):  They are a force unto themselves.  Help them with your full capabilities and direct them against mutual enemies as possible.  Consult Prime Directives as needed.

He opens this file and begins to recite them mentally:

A memory file interrupts him before he can repeat his directives.  He cannot tell if it is an error in his programming are a hard-wired script, as it happens seemingly every time he reviews them. . . 


_He sees nothing up white light, but feels the very essence of life flowing through him.  It is invigorating beyond description, bordering on ecstasy.  All around him are others; minds like this, and part of his, yet completely separate from him.  They, too, hum with life and expectation of what is to come next.  At many points during his countless days in the Forge has he felt a mind separate and leave.  More often than not, a brief glimpse of an emotion he interprets as sorrow washed over him and the other minds.  Somehow, he knows that these departed minds are forever gone.

He feels a tug at his own mind and knows that his turn has come.  The dead weight of fate hangs over him as his consciousness is pulled away.  Then, there is nothing . . .

Now he is sitting in a large stone chair and he opens his eyes for the first time.  His sight is overwhelming and the limits of his vision are tested as he takes it all in.  Yet, he knows the names of the creatures and articles that surround him as if they had been with him forever.  He is in a Delphinate laboratory with two engineers flanking him.

“See, Alita”, says the engineering wizard to his left, “we did it!  Prototype #1784-321 is what we have been working towards all this time.  He is the pinnacle of what we can hope to accomplish with the Forge, given our current capabilities, of course.”

“Yes, he is grand, isn’t he?” she replies.  “As for a pinnacle, Alan, well that shall take time to see.  Two of his three Warforged Paragon routines are uploaded and fully functional.  The third, though, can’t see to be accessed at this time.  Perhaps further manual training can open them up.  I wish all of them could have been fully programmed, but we’ve maxed out his circuits with the Arcane, Combat, and general Knowledge routines.”

“Yes . . . yes we have filled him to capacity,” mutters Alan as he takes one final cursory glance over their greatest accomplishment to date.  “Alright, the Delphin is waiting.  Let’s introduce him to our newest defender.  Come, Prototype #1784-321, don your gear and follow us.”

Circuits clicks and fire as Proto grabs his equipment with rapid ease.  His electronic eyes can see glimpses of powerful magic in nearly everything he wears but he pays them no attention.

He already knows what they are and why he has them.

They are escorted by multiple commanders of significant ranks through the passage within the military compound.  Everywhere the go, notes Proto, people stop what they are doing to gaze at him.

“Is that him?  Did they final make their breakthrough?” is the whispered refrain of those who see him.

Several minutes later they enter a grand hallway and approach a looming set of golden doors.  Two officers rush forward and quickly pull them aside.  In front of them is a large throne room packed with people of several races and arcane persuasions.  Seated in the center is a masked individual who is unmistakably the Delphin.

Proto marches forward along with Alita and Alan.  There is an aura of away that resonates throughout the room.  The Delphin’s masked face surveys the creature in front of him and then turns his gaze towards Alan.

“Impressive.  Mithirial construction, I see.  Is this one fully functional?”

“Indeed, Your Radiance.  Would you care to see a demonstration?”

“Yes.”

In a blink of an eye, Proto is surrounded by a Force Cage and several soldier of Law appear in front of him.  The creatures before him are immediately identified as a threat and his combat routines are executed.  He is a blur of mithral and arcane might as he cuts into them with sword and spell.  The illusionary foes are banished in short seconds and the Force Cage disappears.  

“Excellent,” remarks the Delphin.  “Prototype #1784-321, you are truly an accomplishment and a rare sign of hope in these trying times.  You are a stunning example of what an Eldritch Knight and Warforged should be.  May you protect us always.  Now, repeat to me your Prime Directives.”

Proto utters the first words that have ever been issued from his voice-box in a tinny, monotone ring.  He feels a surge of pride and loyalty flow through him as they are issued.  He must protect the Delphinate and its way of life.

“Prime Directives are:  
1) Defend the Delphinate.  
2)  Execute to commands of the Delphin and his allies without fail.  
3) I am Free-Willed and must use this capacity to interpret Directives 1 & 2.”_

The memory loop stops for now and Proto ponders their situation for a few more hours.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes meet with the Queen after all!  Then they return to Thixil Testa and fight- the _Ur-Fish!_


*Farenth appears as a central character in Cydra: the Early Years.


----------



## the Jester

*The Complete History of the Multiverse in a Nutshell*

_*9/7/370 O.L.G., 5 p.m., the castle in Var*_

“Thank you for coming so quickly, my friends,” Ten Buck Tom says soberly.  “I have something to show you.”

The party follows him to a workshop deep in the castle.  A gnome in rich robes, with an impressive staff at his side, stands up to greet them.  “I believe you may have met Thimbleton at Drelvin’s funeral,” Tom says.  Pleasantries are exchanged.

“This is our concern,” Thimbleton announces, gesturing at the work table he had been seated at when the group entered.  Something very complex, made of clockwork machinery, has been carefully disassembled on the table.  If it were put back together it might resemble an insect.

“I’ve seen those before,” Horbin says slowly.*

“Not like this.”  Thimbleton shakes his head.  “We’ve fought the horrors before- lots of them- but this one was different.  We found it in the castle, and we think it was waiting for an opportunity to assassinate the King.”

“Where is King Malford?” asks Lillamere.  “I’ve needed to contact him for some time- what do you suggest?”

“Well, Malford’s presently away on a secret mission.  I’m not really at liberty to say more than that.  The Queen is close at hand, but in hiding.”  

_Indeed I am,_ thinks the Queen ironically, unseen.

Thimbleton continues, “We’re concerned that there might be attempts on her life as well.  We think the horrors are acting up- and Belmondo’s missing.”

“Who’s Belmondo?” asks Veil.

“Belmondo the Enhanced is another of the King’s old adventuring buddies.  He’s the head of the Rough Riders.  He’s a master prostheticist, among other things.”

“A what?” asks Inoke.

“He makes artificial limbs.  His Rough Riders are all maimed people with prosthetics.”

“What does he have to do with these things?”  Horbin gestures at the dissected horror on the table.

Thimbleton sighs.  “It’s a long story.  Among other things, Belmondo has the _arm of E-Krektor,_ a lich who was involved as well.  He was also held prisoner by the horrors once and harvested for ideas to improve their designs.”

“And you’re afraid something like that has happened again?” inquires Lillamere.  

Thimbleton shrugs.  “I don’t know, but we haven’t been able to find him at all recently.”

Our heroes relate their tales and concerns in turn.  The part most interesting to Thimbleton is the ancient Miloxi ruins that the group had been exploring in the Parrot Isles.  “Be careful,” he warns.  “The radiation is dangerous- ask Lester about it some time if you get the chance.”  He frowns.  “And Master Control and the clockwork horrors all came from that time, from the Miloxi era.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s actually rather complicated.

“A good ten, fifteen years ago now- wow, time flies- the King, Lester, myself, Drelvin, Hobbes, Chobain, Stone- there were a bunch of us- were adventuring around and we started to run up against the clockwork horrors.  They are like metal insects.  They are very much a communal insect-like hive-mind kind of hierarchy.  From what we saw, copper horrors are the weakest.  They’re basically worker drones.  Silver ones are next- they seemed to serve as guards and to lead groups of coppers.  Then there were electrum, gold and platinum, which seemed to be more specialized combat horrors.  They all initially had these gems in their heads. The gem was the horror’s power source.  If you destroyed that, you disabled the horror. 

“Anyway, after a while they started changing, getting very creative with their construction.  We eventually found out why: because they had kidnapped Belmondo and strapped him into a giant horror.  We had to break inside of it, fight our way through the horrors within it and extract him.”  Shaking his head at the memory, Thimbleton adds, “It wasn’t easy.  It did fit a pattern that Master Control used more than once- grabbing other individuals for the sake of their creativity.

“Later, we backtracked to the Isle of Horrors, which was really a giant mechanical isle that the clockwork horrors could use to travel around.  We had a, a...”  He stops, frowns, and scratches his beard.  “I don’t know how to describe it.  A weapon, I guess, or an item, which we could use to engage Master Control... on... another plane, I guess, is the best way to describe it.”  He frowns.  “Belmondo was the one to use it.  He engaged Master Control in, I guess you could say psychic combat, and managed to trap it with the weapon... or... maybe think of it as a magical effect...”  He pauses again, clearly frustrtated at his inability to describe these things.  But Forinthian has no words for these things.

“What’s this ‘Master Control’ you keep talking about?” asks Lillamere.

“Oh, man, this is all so complex.”  Thimbleton sighs again.  “Has Lester ever told you about Darkhold?  About how Boccob, and Carella, and the other so-called ‘new gods’ got to Cydra?”

“A little...”

“All right, so in a very oversimplified nutshell, this is the story.  There was a previous universe- actually, a previous _multiverse_- but it was destroyed by a dark entity called Tharizdun.  The multiverse that Cydra is part of began as a sort of magical simulation done by a guy called the Master of Darkhold, who had escaped the destruction because he existed outside of the normal multiverse.  Fuligin, who I’m sure you have all heard of, was a servant of Tharizdun who had been trapped _inside_ Darkhold when the previous multiverse was destroyed.  When we were in there the first time, Lester accidentally released him on the world.  He then proceeded to lay waste to Dorhaus, and we couldn’t stop him and his armies of fiends.  We had to go back in time to the previous multiverse to gather the proper components to birth a new Nature to make our own multiverse real so that we would have a way to bind Tharizdun and thus make it possible to defeat Fuligin.

“Anyway, one of the constructs that existed in the previous multiverse was called Adam.  It was a magical, psionic, technological, intelligent suit of dwarven full plate with many powers and abilities of all sorts built into it, originally created by a dwarven hero called Iron Dwarf.**  It was one of the very few things that the Master of Darkhold took from the previous universe before escaping its utter destruction.  When he began simulating a new universe- Cydra before we birthed a new Nature, in fact probably millions or billions of years ago- Adam was allowed to enter it.  Adam had a profoundly growing mind, you see, and wished to see all there was to see.  He wished to study a distorted reflection of what might have been in his old universe.

“Unfortunately, he was apparently infected by an informational entity from his original universe- a powerful enemy of Iron Dwarf and his companions called Master Control.  I guess it had control over the machines of its entire world... I don’t know much about that part, only the bit Adam told us.”

“You met this Adam?” exclaims Veil.

Thimbleton nods.  “Yes, when we were on the Isle of Horrors.  Because Adam, too, was a prisoner of them.  I think- this is all put together from hints and bits and pieces now- I think that Adam helped the Miloxi Empire develop at least some of its powers.  They were the ones who originally built the horrors, but I don’t know why exactly- them, and a Drow lich we now know as E-Krektor.  Anyway, at some point Master Control struck from surprise, disabling Adam and taking over all the horrors.  Until we came along and took it out nothing could threaten it, because it doesn’t have a body or anything.  It exists as pure information, and it can jump from one host to another like a possessing ghost.”  

“Interesting,” muses Horbin.  “And potentially very useful!  So what happened to this lich?”

“Well, we destroyed him, but we never destroyed his phylactery,” Thimbleton admits.  “So he’s probably out there somewhere.”

“Let’s just consider him an enemy by proxy,” suggests Gerontius.

***

Horbin _communes._

_Has Pandos the traitor truly atoned?_ *Yes.*
_Was the pit fiend his lord?_ *Yes.*
_Does the pit fiend’s lord know he’s dead?_ *Yes.*
_Does he know who killed him?_ *Yes.*
_Is he actively plotting revenge?_ *No.*

_Interesting,_ thinks Horbin.  _Why not?_

_Is he at all angry?_ *Yes.*
_Is King Malford held somewhere against his will?_ *No.*
_Is Queen Moira held somewhere against her will?_ *No.*
_Are there any radiation weapons we can find in Inoke’s ruins that we’ve started exploring?_ *Unknown.*
_Are there any living creatures in Cydra with knowledge of the radiation technology the Miloxi used?_ *Yes.*
_Will this individual help us if we approach him or her?_ *Unknown.*
_Is he or she human or one of the other races of the fair folk?_ *Some.*
_Is Hashrek truly an elf?_ *No.*
_Is he humanoid?_ *No.*
_Is he an outsider?_ *No.*
_Will we find the way deeper into the ruins through following the waterway that Inoke has suggested?_ *Yes and no.*
_Are there more of the hard suits with the dials in the chest in the complex?_ *Unknown.*
_Do any of the Queen’s enemies know where she is?_ *Probably not.*
_Is Thrush doing his best to administer true justice to the people as Sheriff of Brelana?_ *No.*

Horbin frowns.

_Is he just having a good time with it?_ *No.*

Better than nothing, he judges.

_Is all well in the marriage of the Emperor and the Tiger Empress?_ *Yes.*
_Will we be able to persuade the Tiger Empress to swear loyalty to the continent of Dorhaus?_ *Yes.*

When he comes out of his holy trance, Horbin stretches.  “We should rest the night,” he says, “and head back to the tabaxi ruins.”

Inoke nods.  “I’m very concerned about it.  What if it’s poisoning my island even now?”

“Good point,” Veil acknowledges.  “We don’t know what that radiation stuff will do, or how far it will spread.”

“I think it’s a bad idea,” opines Lillamere.  “If it’s poisoning anything, it’s bound to poison us.”

“We have to help my people,” insists Inoke.

“You’re right, we do.  I’m just saying, it’s not the smartest thing I’ve ever heard of.”

The rest of our heroes are forced to agree.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes meet- the Ur-Fish!

*Referring way back to his adventures in my old story hour, starting about here.

**I kid you not.  He was a pc.  We’re looking back _before_ this campaign world now.


----------



## the Jester

*The Ur-Fish*

_*7 p.m., the ruins of Thixil Testa*_

Suddenly our heroes are there. 

Teleportation is like that.  It takes some getting used to, certainly; but it is far superior to the weeks of travel overland followed by weeks on a boat followed by another few days overland to get to where they were.

Our heroes have surmised that there is a dimensional lock on at least the entry, directly behind the passage that was originally sealed by the force field that they _disintegrated_ to get inside.  They take a chance and try to teleport into the natural, unworked area that the irradiated umber hulk was in.  They succeed; even if all of the Miloxi-built artificial areas are locked down, the surrounding area is not.  

Inoke’s theory is that ingress to the lower levels can be gained via a waterway the party found past the umber hulk.  “I bet we can bypass those golems we knocked into the water, too,” he says.  “I’m not afraid of them, but I don’t really want to get zapped with a bunch of that radiation stuff.”

_”I’m_ afraid,” admits Gerontius.

The party returns to the waterway: a small section of underground stream flows through a cave, its rapid current rushing past.

“If you’re wrong, it could be very dangerous to jump in that,” comments Veil.  “That current could sweep you right away.”

“Yeah...”  Inoke gazes at the current, stroking his chin.

“Is there a way we can scout it out first?” asks Gerontius.

”Let me try,” Lillamere offers, and sends some _prying eyes_ down the waterway.  They do not return.  “Hmm,” the elf muses, “maybe the current was too much for them... or maybe something’s down there.”

“Well,” Veil says, “I’ll be able to detect your thoughts within 400’ of me... that’s something.”

A few spells are cast, for the ability to move and breathe freely in the water, and Inoke jumps in to the water.  Immediately, the current starts sweeping him away.  He can only resist it by _expanding_ to huge.

“I’m not so sure this is a good idea anymore!” he cries to the others.  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back!”

Lillamere snaps his fingers.  “I have it!”  He casts a _wall of force_ that blocks off most, but not all, of the water flowing into and through the room.  The pressure on Inoke eases immediately, and shortly all of our heroes are moving down the waterway, assisted by magic.

Soon enough an opening presents itself.  Perhaps Inoke is right; it leads to a chamber with several more tunnels leading out, including one with a swift current running out another hole running deeper into the earth.  The caves here are wide; the narrowest one stretches almost 20’ across.  One of them leads upward at a gentle slope.

“Let’s try that one,” Inoke says, gesturing at it.  “Maybe it connects with something.”

The others agree and the party begins moving up the passage, trying to maintain relative quiet.  Slowly, scanning the passage walls around them, our heroes move along.  After just over a hundred feet, another smaller passage appears to their left.  This one drops sharply downward.

“Let’s stay to the big one for now,” recommends Horbin.  “We’ll come back and check on this one later.”

***

Through the dark water, behind our heroes, a gargantuan sharp-eared creature slowly lashes the water with its tail, driving its massive bulk after our heroes.  It has heard them and it is hungry.  The lunatic intellect within the thing wonders momentarily what has come into its domain; but it knows the answer well enough.

Food.

The water around it churns as it swims forward. 

***

“GAH!!!”  Suddenly Veil gives a great shout and darts forward.  “Behind us!” she yells.  Her eyes are frantic.

The party whirls about and faces a nightmare.

Like some horrible monster spawned by a Jack Kirby comic, the Ur-Fish rushes forward at them.  Thick pebbly skin stretches open as its great maw opens, revealing row after row of jagged dagger-like teeth.  Its huge eyes blaze with intelligence.  

“Look out!” shouts Gerontius, swimming frantically out of the thing’s path.

With a loud booming noise, the Ur-Fish clamps down on the huge Inoke, its jaw squeezing his arm for incredible damage.*  It shakes him like a dog worrying a toy, and he groans in pain.  Then he smashes his club into it once, twice; and it backs off for an instant-

There’s a tell-tale flash of magical energy.  Inoke feels several of his protections fall to the Ur-Fish’s _greater dispelling_.  Suddenly- he can’t breathe.

Shedding spells that our heroes cast like drops of water, the Ur-Fish gets ready to rush him again.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes in battle against the Ur-Fish!

*66 points in one bite.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*King of the Update!*

All hail Jester, King of the Update!!! (Bump-bumpa-bummmm!!!)

Seriously, nice work dude.  We appreciate all the effort you are  putting into this and the readers will definately enjoy the shocking, gruesome, and horrifying end to this thread.  (Which, dear readers, still awhile off . . . unless Jester can continue this updating marathon a bit longer . . . )


----------



## Knightfall

Amazing stuff, as usual. I hadn't realized you were updating this one so frequently, lately. I was several pages behind.

Anyway, good stuff.

KF72


----------



## the Jester

Hey KF1972!

Yeah, tons of updates lately- I'm trying to catch up with the actual campaign under the theory that if I can catch up I can _keep_ up. 

Meanwhile, anyone who doesn't know what a Jack Kirby humungous fish demon would look like should try to find some images of Kirby monsters.  When I described the Ur-Fish as 'a Jack Kirby fish demon' a couple of my players instantly went pale.


----------



## the Jester

*The Ur-Fish, pt. II*

Gerontius leaps onto the broad back of the Ur-Fish, hoping to ride it into submission, but he’s kidding himself.  It’s much too big, and he’s much too small.  However you look at it, he’s not controlling- or even influencing- its movement like that.  _Well,_ he thinks, _I can do more than try to shoo it away up here!_  His daggers sink deeply into it, and blood billows out into the water.  

The Ur-Fish, surrounded by an inky corona that makes it difficult to see and hit, has left Inoke to flounder, at least momentarily, and takes a huge bite out of Veil.  Veil screams as her body is torn nearly in two.  Gleaming tubes of metal and plastic are strewn through the water like innards- in fact, they _are_ the Chaos-changed Veil’s innards.  The Ur-Fish savages her, and she mewls in pain.  _One more bite like that,_ she gasps to herself, _and I’m done for._

Then she feels the Chaos gripping her, as it does at some point every day now.  She suffers the curse- it keeps changing her, day after day, at some random point.  And it looks like today that point is now, as Veil struggles on the edge of death and oblivion.

Her body transforms into an almost liquid state.  Veil becomes an ooze- and just in time, as the Ur-Fish rends her again.*  But now she is mindless, and she has a new problem.  As a construct, she had not needed to breathe.  She had not bothered to have _water breathing_ cast on her.  Now, as an ooze, it _does_ need air.  Groping wildly, the mindless Veil starts seeking air, exuding tentacles and feelers in all directions.  

Inoke, too, is having issues with breathing, but he has a solution.  Digging frantically in his pack, he finally pulls out his _necklace of adaptation._   He slips it over his head and clasps it.  Suddenly a bubble of air forms around him, and he gasps in a great breath.  Then, glaring at the Ur-Fish, he _expands_ to huge size again.  “Now let’s try that again!” he rasps, glaring at the even bigger monster.

The Ur-Fish, meanwhile, has shown another terrifying capability: its mouth is so huge that it can bite more than one person at a time!  It snaps up about a 10’ cube of water with each bite, and hits Lillamere and Horbin with a single snap.  Every bite deals formidable damage.  Lillamere falls into its gullet, though Horbin manages to escape that terrible fate.  

Horbin hits it with a _harm,_ opening wounds all over its body, even as Inoke charges it using his _chain of overwhelming force_.  It is mighty, though, and it continues to fight, biting the enormous Inoke and almost snapping him in two between its jagged teeth.  He catches its jaws in his bare hands, but loses two fingers in the process!**

The ooze Veil reaches the ceiling and starts groping sidewise, oblivious to its former companions battling for their lives.  It seeks one thing only: air.  Without it, it will perish.  

Then- miraculously- it finds it.  A narrow crack in the ceiling gives it just a tiny bit, just enough to keep searching- until it brushes up against the bubble produced by Inoke’s _necklace of adaptation._  Then Veil oozes forward and into the area the bubble keeps intersecting as the big fighter dodges and weaves, strikes and parries.  He’s hurt pretty badly; in fact, so our many of our heroes- and the Ur-Fish.

Meanwhile, in the Ur-Fish’s belly, Lillamere is thrown about in a wet fleshy chamber that burns with acid.  He tries to stand, but is thrown from his feet again.  Muscular action pounds him.  

_Got to get out of here,_ he thinks desperately.  He focuses his mind and _greater teleports_ out.   

Our heroes rally as Horbin casts a _mass heal._  Inoke roars in triumph as he pounds through the Ur-Fish’s defenses again and again, inflicting massive amounts of damage.***   It starts to falter, and Gerontius rips into it.  It lets out a loud bellow of rage and anger as the little halfling tears into it, breaking the massive bone of its face where Inoke had cracked it.  It bellows again, and Gerontius thrusts hard with his dagger, sticking his hand into the Ur-Fish’s eye up to the wrist.  It bellows again, weakly, and thrashes for another moment; but its threat is ended.  The Ur-Fish is no more.

_*Next Time:*_ The return of Lester and Orbius!

*If not for the hp she gained by regaining a constitution score (she didn’t have one as a construct), that particular attack would have slain her.

**Just to give you an idea of the damage being tossed around at this point in the campaign, Horbin’s _harm_ managed 75 hp of damage, Inoke’s _chain of overwhelming force_ dealt another 65 points after DR, and the crit the Ur-Fish got that tore off a coupla fingers did 128 hp of damage.  All three times there was a roll vs. death from massive damage.  These rolls are made almost every hit at these levels, but it’s very rare that anyone fails one (hi Aaron! )

***135 hp of damage after DR over four hits.  Crikey.


----------



## the Jester

*Making Yet Another Enemy*

“Dexter’s nadlies,” swears Horbin, “that thing was _tough._”

Lillamere shudders, covered in stomach goop, which the water all around them is washing him clean of.  “Yeah,” he answers, then, “Hey, where’s Veil?”

“I have her, sort of,” Inoke says unhappily.  The ooze formerly known as Veil is kind of oozing around in his air bubble.  “But she’s... messy.”

Horbin sighs.  “I hope, if we can recover her, she learns her lesson about tampering with Chaos.  It’s _dangerous._”

The party returns to Var to recuperate, where the ooze is placed in a large sack.  “Hundred fifty pounds of ooze,” grumbles Inoke, lugging it over his shoulder.  “Dammit, Veil!”

***

_*9/8/370 O.L.G., 1 p.m., the Halls of Healing, Var*_

“I must leave you for the time being,” Proto states.  “I have been called in for refitting.”*

Our heroes have gathered in preparation of returning to the strange Miloxi-era ruin they have been exploring.  Proto’s abrupt announcement stuns them.

“Refitting?” asks Sybele.  “That sounds... painful.”

Seethe mutters under his breath.  In his opinion, the warforged is an abomination.  It is unnatural; just as well if it’s gone for good.

“I will be deactivated while the actual work is done,” Proto responds.  “A flaw in my programming must be corrected.”

“I thought you were going to help me?” Inoke queries.  “After all, if we’re going to help you, you need to help us too.”

“I will aid you- but first, I must be refitted.  Otherwise critical flaws in my behavior could result.”

Inoke frowns, but seems to accept Proto’s apologetic departure.  Then our heroes return to the business at hand, distributing the yellow, rubbery suits they found as well as the harder ceramic suits with dials in the chest.  Gerontius cuts one down to his size; the others eye is askance.  Will it still function?  Time will tell. 

Suddenly Horbin stiffens.  “Hold up,” he says, “I’m receiving a _sending._”

“Is it Proto already?” asks Sybele.  Seethe frowns darkly.

“No, it’s Lester!” Horbin exclaims excitedly.  “He’ll be here in a minute...”

“Oh, man, I hope he doesn’t hate me for killing Drelvin,” Inoke groans, a worried look on his face.

And then, there they are: two long-absent friends, Lester the Elementalist and Orbius Visionary.  Lester appears as a dark-skinned half-elf, a bushy afro with a single white streak through it topping him like a comic hat.  Dark-lensed glasses are perched on his face.  Great feathery wings flex from his back, and he wears sigils and signs of the four elements.  Orbius is a human, obviously a scholar and a wizard even at first glance.  From his neck hangs the sign of Boccob, an open eye over a book.  Boccob is one of the so-called ‘new gods’ that have come only recently to Cydra.  Orbius is called, among other things, ‘the Eye of Boccob.’

“It’s go to see you, my friends!” Lester cries.  “I knew we’d meet again in the ends!”  Horbin, Sybele and Jezebel rush to greet them.  Laughing, they all embrace.  Jezebel and Orbius join in a long, drawn-out kiss.

“Orbius Visionary, the diviner!” breathes Lillamere.  “I’ve heard of him!  He’s supposed to be one of the _best!_”

And, of course, _everyone_ has heard of Lester: the L, the self-proclaimed Angel of Adventure.  

Turning to Lillamere, Lester remarks, “Wow, Drelvin, you look handsome today!”

Lillamere sighs.  “I’m not Drelvin.  I’m his nephew, Lillamere.”  And, heavily, he adds: “Drelvin is dead.”

“And I killed him,” announces Inoke.  “It was an accident, but I did.”  He sounds miserable.  “I was out of my mind at the time.  So if you’ve got a problem with me because of it, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“We understand,” Orbius says immediately.  “Magical compulsions happen.  Why, Lester’s killed adventuring companions a time or two while magically compelled himself!”  The Eye of Boccob shrugs.  “These things happen.  You can’t always help it.”

“That’s... very enlightened,” Inoke replies slowly.  Maybe these two won’t be so bad after all.  After he met Hobbes at Drelvin’s funeral, he’d thought he would have trouble with all of Drelvin’s old friends.  Maybe not.

The rest of the necessary introductions are made, and our heroes are back to square one in making their plan of attack.  But that’s okay, as it rapidly becomes apparent that the brilliant mind of Orbius and the long experience of Lester will be valuable tools while planning.  

“I’m not completely loaded for bear, but if we’re adventuring I don’t care!” declares Lester, and Orbius nods in agreement.

“We’ll be fine- no need to rest a day or anything.  Lester’s always ready for adventure.”

So Lillamere _greater teleports_ to the site of the battle with the Ur-Fish.  Its humungous carcass hangs in the water, drifting lazily in the current.  Dozens of small fishies are there, nibbling on the carcass, but Seethe scares them away when he approaches _wild shaped_ into a dire shark.  Then the party begins heading up the slope they were ascending when the Ur-Fish attacked them.

“I’m growing more powerful in the ways of Chaos,” Sybele comments as they advance.  “Hey, if we run into trouble I’m going to do something kind of dangerous.”  She grins.

“What do you mean?” Lillamere asks.

“Well...”  She pauses, then smiles again.  “I can initiate a _wild zone_ around myself now.”

”What’s that?” Lillamere asks, but Orbius has the answer.

“It’s a zone within which magic will go wild.  Your spells may not work properly, or at all.  Anything can happen when you use magic in a wild zone.”

“Wow,” says Sybele, “I just know I can do it.  I didn’t know what it would _do._”

***

Thousands of years ago the Miloxi Empire spread out over hundreds of thousands of miles, using portal technology and ancient forms of magic relying on radiocrystal and radiation.  They grew great in power but, as is often the case with such races, hubris brought them low.  What caused the end?  Nobody knows, these days, but whatever it was destroyed their empire and wiped out most traces of it in only a few centuries. 

Long years ago, a small group of tabaxi fled the Miloxi settlements, trying to set up a small independent nation.  They called their settlement Thixil Testa, which was Miloxi for Free Minds.  Led by a powerful psionic tabaxi half-rakshasa named Virri Mosswistrow, who had overcome his own innate tendency to evil, the tabaxi of Thixil Testa built a small radiocrystal power plant to provide them with the niceties of life.  

But something went wrong.  The reactor’s crystal core was defective, mined from local radiocrystal deposits that were flawed and imperfect.  Soon it was generating more power, and more radiation, than intended; and as his people began to die, Virri Mosswistrow girded himself and traveled deep within the power plant to try to prevent disaster.  He succeeded, damping down the radiation levels enough that his people could flee in safety, but sealing the area behind him as he descended with a _field of force._

Time passed; years and years, and then decades, centuries, millennia.   Mirri remains in his prison, trying to prevent radiation from leaking out and poisoning the outside world.  Seismic shifting has already opened several passages to the outside world, which distresses him to no end; and he does what he can to seal them off, but once there’s a hole, there’s a hole, and it becomes damage control instead of prevention. 

Mirri the Mad, the genie of the bottle would have called him.  For who would stay down here for so long if he was not mad?

He hears them again, now, the intruders that killed the Ur-Fish.  That spoke volumes about them.  Virri knew all too well what kind of a threat the Ur-Fish was.  His own lair was through an 80’ long passage too narrow for the Ur-Fish to come through.  Even so, Virri often wondered if the monstrous fish could force its way into his lair if it had really wanted to?  The thing had been both exceptionally arrogant and exceptionally dangerous.

Nonetheless, while he might not exactly mourn the Ur-Fish’s death, it did make him profoundly uneasy.  As the noises come closer, he lays out his _immovable rods_ and then begins casting spells, beginning with _shield_ and _see invisibility._  Then- curse them!- he can hear them coming down the stairs, and he sees them enter his room: grotesque, almost hairless humanoids showing a range of stature and dress.  

One of them, the largest-looking one- probably female, based on the mammaries, and wielding a bow- shouts something he can’t understand in its primitive, gutteral language: “Zits teh raksasha!  Vatch oot, I’m using me new powwer!”  She rushes forward at Virri- and right into his _immovable rods!_  “Urk,” she adds, and he understands that just fine.

_I wonder if that affects psionics,_ Inoke thinks, and manifests _schism._  Everything goes as it should; grinning, he moves up.  

Another one _teleports_ next to Virri.  This one has wings and a sword in its hand.  Well, that’s nothing a _repulsion_ won’t fix.  

Virri casts his spell- and suddenly he can’t breathe.  He can’t move.  He can’t _anything._  The adventurers move in around him, poking and prodding him; he hangs limp in the water.  He wishes he could yowl and scream and bite, but he can’t.  He can’t do _anything._  They talk about him for a little while, strip him, take all his gear.  He wants to howl.  He wants to kill.  He wants to die.  He starts to wonder if, maybe, he _is_ dead.  Eventually the adventurers leave him behind, still immobilized, and leave.  

He lays there, never blinking, for several more hours.  

He knows that if he _isn’t_ dead, he’s going to have to move very quickly to get out alive.  When at last he feels his limbs loosen and movement returns, he keeps his wits about him and swims as fast as he is able to the nearest air.  It’s in a higher-radiation zone, but it’s better than drowning.

_Those bastards,_ he thinks bitterly.  _All those mostly hairless apes are the same.  Some day I’ll pay them back.  Some day, somehow.  But for now... I can’t stand up to those adventurers now that they have all my gear.  I can’t even safely stay here._

His heart heavy, Virri gives up his millenia of guardianship over Thixil Testa for the outside at last.    

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes fight golems again and more!


*Hey Angel of Adventure, look at that!  An in-game justification for those two missing levels!


----------



## Brain

I didn't realize that guy wasn't dead.  Oops  

I'm looking forward to the upcoming episodes which include some tense moments.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Yeah, that is a good hook there, Jester.  I think I'll probably add a Spellsword level and finish out the Warforged Paragon progression.  (I think Level 3 is a +2 Str enhancement.)

Thanks for making Lester rhyme, too.  I keep forgetting to mention that to you.

Per Brain's comment on tension building, all I can say is that these next updates will be RADical.

-AoA


----------



## hippiejedi2

haha the cat went catatonic, stupid pussy cat, he was most fortunate all we did was loot him taking a cat nap on the job. perhaps its not to late to get a rakshasa/tabaxi as a pet, after he was unable to defend his post he'll need a new job. does anyone suppose he is housebroken?


----------



## the Jester

_*2:30 p.m.*_

The underwater area, though full of nastiness, has not yet yielded anything of great interest, but that changes as our heroes continue up the slope, leaving the dead rakshasa behind.  Staring into the murky ahead, they see a flickering violet radiance.

“Uh oh,” whispers Lester.  “I think something RADICAL is ahead.  We’d better be careful, or we’ll be dead!”

“I bet it’s the golems we knocked into the water.  I think we’re coming up to the bottom of that shaft we say.”  Lillamere gestures ahead.  The light is visible through a ragged rent almost 20’ in diameter torn in a wall that is clearly composed of some kind of metal.  

Our heroes are ready to do battle- between overcoming the rakshasa so easily and the return of Lester and Orbius, they’re feeling more than a little sassy.  They are one of the most powerful groups of adventurers in all of Cydra, and they know it.  

“Golems, you say?” Orbius murmurs.  “I think I have just the thing.”  

The party moves up and Orbius casts his spell- and a _reality maelstrom_ opens, a tear in the very fabric of space that sucks everything within it through to another plane!  A loud roaring sound emanates from it, and a mighty current begins pulling our heroes towards it as water is sucked through with increasingly insane speed.

“AAAHHH!!!  HELP!!!”  

Both golems are sucked through, but so is Jezebel.

_Jezebel!_ Lester cries over the _Rary’s telpathic bond_ the party is hooked up with.  _I’ll save you!_  And he dives right into the _reality maelstrom._

The rest of our heroes struggle against the current, and Orbius only needs a minute to dispel the _reality maelstrom_.  Gasping, the party swirls in the violently twisting water.  

_I got her,_ Lester comes through telepathically a moment later.  _We’re almost back- I’ve already _plane shifted_ us to Cydra, and now we’ll use my _boots of teleportation_ to get back to you guys._  And indeed, he reappears, Jezebel on his arm.

“Jezebel, I was so worried!” exclaims Orbius.

“Then why didn’t you come yourself?” she replies reproachfully.

“Well... Lester went...”

“Why didn’t _you_ come?”  A beat passes.  “Never mind.  Let’s go.  We’ll talk about it later.”

He really doesn’t have much choice there, does he?

Beyond the golems is indeed the bottom of the shaft.  Though deeply muted, the sound of klaxons can be heard from above.  At the bottom of the pit is a square hatch, about 10’ across.  The water in the shaft is noticably warmer than the surrounding water, and close to the hatch it is almost uncomfortably hot.

Inoke and Lester exchange a glance.

“Now, at a time like this, you might think you want to brashly open that hatch,” Orbius says, “but take it from Lester, you don’t.  Over the course of his career he’s pulled a lot of levers that he shouldn’t, and generally you want to have an idea of the consequences first.  Otherwise you’ll let out someone like Fuligin.”

“Right,” says Inoke.  “But what if the answer is down there?  What if we can turn it off?”  He is wearing one of the hard ceramic suits, and it has absorbed some of the radiation that is doubtless pouring into him.  One wrist has a strange rod fixed parallel to it that crackles more the more radiation is around; it’s making a lot of noise just now.   

“You don’t want a lot of RADs,” Lester exclaims.  “That would be really bad!”  Telepathically, he continues, _Trust me on this one!  You get sick, your hair falls out... ugh!  It’s bad.  You get sores all over your body... it’s very, very bad.  Trust me.  Been there, done that.  Speaking of which, let’s get the hell back away from this!  Look up there.  There’s another way out.  Two, in fact._ 

Indeed, there are two other rents in the wall below the waterline.  Our heroes ascend quickly now that Lester has expressed his concern; and they ascend to the nearer one and swim down another stone passage, apparently natural, perhaps begun by seismic activity at some point and expanded by the umber hulk above. 

In they go.

***

_*Many places at once*_

Another dim light flickers into being in Master Control’s awareness.  There are all too few, all too few... This one has a runaway reactor, but contained.  Master Control begins to assess its status, sees that it is stable, and shifts an informational avatar to it.  

Think of the bodiless, voiceless equivalent of a gasp.  How does information gasp?  Think of that for a moment.

Master Control gasps. 

_Lester is here._

Immediately it begins the process of calling up whatever weapons this new possession may have- 

Nothing.  Only the reactor itself, which has already burned itself low.  There really isn’t anything to work with.

_Not there, anyway._  Master Control sends out a command, and several hundred miles away a deadly prototype aswarm with copper clockwork horrors begins checking its systems.  The activity of the horrors changes.  They begin loading ammuntion, fuelling, preparing for launch.  A few panels of armored plating must still be welded on.  It is a significant expenditure of resources, but one that Master Control is gambling Lester has not foreseen.

If only there were better sensors at the lower levels, for that is where Master Control’s old enemy is!  But only within the upper levels could it actually _see_ anything.

Enough recriminations for now.  Lester was there, and he was a target.  By the time the unfinished prototype reached him, the first part of Master Control’s vengeance would already be well under way.

Accursed bags of meat.

***

Our heroes travel through a large chamber with weird slimy growths waving in the current.  None of them seem dangerous, but there are two exits.  Our heroes continue across the room and pass into another large chamber.  Another golem moves to oppose them, but this one looks almost like a black-boned skeleton.  At first they mistake it for some weird undead, but as they pound on it it becomes apparent that it is made from some sort of metal.  Soon it has been cast down in pieces, and our heroes search its chamber.

“Lookie here,” Gerontius cackles, popping open a secret panel and holding up a key.  

“I bet that opens the door in the bottom of the shaft,” Inoke says. 

“Now don’t do anything hasty,” Orbius urges.  

“Well, think about it- if we could shut this place down, we’d be doing a lot of good for my island.  Who knows what terrible effects all this radiation is going to have on my folk otherwise?”  He ponders for a moment, then says, “We could even use the _wishes_ from the genie bottle.”*

“You can use it if you get it,” Gerontius says, “but if I get it as my pick I probably won’t.”

“’Pick?’” Inoke exclaims.  “If we get _wishes,_ we should use them for the benefit of the whole party.”

“How does that benefit me?”

The exchange- half-serious, but half serious- continues as our heroes continue exploring.  The room with the hidden key in it has only one exit other than the passage from which they gained ingress.  They take it, continuing their debate, until Lester cries out. 

“Hey, look, all of youze!” he exclaims.  “It’s some kind of ooze!”

Snapped out of their conversation, our heroes see a humungous greenish-turquoise ooze bristling with little hairs and growths.  It surges forward, sensing prey, and our heroes dispatch it without even slowing down.  The wide passage it was dwelling within has more of the bizzarre growths all over it, but soon it leads back into the central shaft.

“I think we should try to shut it down,” Inoke says again.

”Agreed,” Orbius answers, “but _not today._  We need to be prepared.”

Reluctantly, Inoke agrees.  The party backs up a few dozen feet, away from the shaft.  After a brief discussion, they recall the passageway they skipped from the first chamber they entered, and they return to it and begin to follow it.

As they do, Orbius cocks his head.  _I hear something,_ he relates over the _telepathic bond._ 

Indeed... some kind of babbling, like many voices gibbering...

Our heroes advance towards the Gibbering Garden.

_*Next Time:*_ Into the Gibbering Garden!

*The genie bottle, which our heroes encountered earlier, was on Virri when they defeated him through Sybele’s ability to generate a _wild zone_, which our heroes believe killed the “rakshasa” when he tried to cast a spell.  Loot!


----------



## the Jester

*The Gibbering Garden*

The party advances into the weird gibbering sound.  The passage opens into a wide chamber about 100’ across.  Every surface of the place is covered in weird, colorful growths and slimes.  The gibbering seems to be coming from in here somewhere.  It makes our heroes nervous.

Lester starts to move forward- and the _foresight_ Orbius cast upon him goes off.  “Watch out, it’s dangerous!” he calls.  Orbius casts a bestowed _mirror image_ on him, and then the L takes another step and the gibbering grows much louder.  Suddenly a pseudopod of slimy matter forms and strikes out at him!  It swishes past, but it’s enough for him to cast a _horrid wilting._

Then the room erupts into chaos.  There are suddenly flailing pseudopods everywhere, and Inoke’s suit’s rod of radiation detection starts crackling like crazy.  The pseudopods deal reasonable damage, and worse, they inflict radiation as well!  Inoke and Gerontius strike back physically, but the slime regenerates with distressing speed.  

Then things grow even more bizarre and five globs of stuff spit out, resolving into gibbering mouthers.  “What the hell is this?” cries Inoke.  “What are we fighting??”

“I have no idea!” cries Lester as he casts another _horrid wilting_, slaying all the mouthers and dehydrating whatever is in the slime. 

“I’m starting to suspect that we’re fighting the whole room,” Orbius announces, testing the notion with a _chain lightning._  Indeed, no secondary bolts form.  Lester follows his cohort’s spell with a _cone of cold,_ and this seems to harm it in a way that it cannot regenerate.

Once they know its weakness, our heroes grow bolder.  Beau employs his frost dagger to deadly effect, and though it takes time, the thing finally stops regenerating.  

However, a search reveals a strange, pulsating egg-shaped growth.  They also find the skeleton of a long-dead humanoid with canine features, but neither kobold nor gnoll.  The party takes a magical ring on its finger and a rich-looking helm from the helm.

“What about this egg?” asks Inoke.  “Should we destroy it?” 

“No way, man!  I’ve got a plan!”  Lester smiles a devious smile.

“We can’t leave yet,” Inoke says.  “I have to check that hatch.”

“What if you make it worse?” demands Orbius.  “What if you let something out that you shouldn’t?”

“I have to know what I’m dealing with.”

“All right.”  Orbius shakes his head.  “But we’ll probably have to retreat immediately and prepare for a couple of days before we can return and shut it down and survive.

***

The hatch does indeed yield to the key that was hidden in the room with the weird metal golem in it.  Inoke wisely erects _energy adaptation_ and turns the dial on the chest of the hard suit that he’s wearing all the way up before he opens the door, for a bubble of boiling radioactive water hisses out over and past him.  Below the hatch is a 20’ diameter chamber with a number of control panels melted into slag and a ceramic door that is glowing red-hot and slumping in its frame.  Inoke’s radiation detector- Lester calls it a wand of Geiger- is crackling with a solid hiss of static, the most Inoke’s heard.  Quickly he moves to the ceramic door and smashes it down.  Another blast of superheated radioactive water tears across him.  A 30’ hallway leads down to a small core area where a violet crystal upon a strange metal pedastel glows incandescent.  

Inoke can feel the radiation tearing through him.  He knows he must move fast.  He runs forward towards the crystal, a rumbling war cry emanating from his chest, and strikes-

And _Deadly Avalanche_ deflects off of a force field.

With a cry of despair, Inoke turns and flees.

***

_*4 p.m., the Temple of Elemental Good Water*_

In a shimmer of teleportative magic, our heroes appear via _mass teleport_.  They give the egg to the high priest of Elemental Water and Lester encourages him to leave it underwater and to watch it carefully, but if anything looks dangerous to get the hell away from it.  Then our heroes while away the afternoon.

***

_*9/9/370 O.L.G., 10 a.m.*_

Orbius casts _contact other plane._

_What is our best means currently within our power to get rid of the force field around the crystal?_ *Wish.*
_What is likely to happen to anyone in the chamber when the force field goes down?_ *Radiation.*
_What is the purpose of that crystal area?_ *Isolation.*
_How many maximized _shatters_ would it take to destroy that crystal?_ *One.*
_What will happen when we shatter the crystal?_ *Stop.*
_If we cast an _earthquake_ is that likely to prevent the evil doesers who want the crystal?_ *No.*
_What do I need to do to get Jezebel to like me again?_ *Finish.*
_Like, ‘sealing the deal’?_ *No.*
_Finish off the Bile Lords?_ (Orbius shudders.) *No.*

He tells the party about most of his questions and answers.  Then the party goes into an orgy of _identification,_ followed by a heavy debate about what to do with the genie bottle.  In the end it is put into the treasure to be divided by dice. Inoke worries about this; without the genie bottle, he may not be able to induce anyone capable of _wishing_ into the crystal’s chamber.  He breathes much easier when he gets the first pick.  In the end, the divisions go as follows:

Inoke- the genie’s bottle and another cat helm (this one is a _helm of underwater action_)
Sybele- _bracers of armor +5_
Lester- the ring from the canine headed humanoid skeleton. This is a _ring of the predator._  It gives its wearer scent, Track, and deals extra damage against tabaxi.
Gerontius- the _ring of radiance_ (taken from the rakshasa’s body), which casts _light_ 2/day and _sunray_ 1/day.
Seethe- the 4 _immovable rods_
Lillamere- a _ring of protection +3_

“All right,” says Inoke.  “Orbius, will you help me?  I need to go back there and shut this thing down.  I don’t need you to come in there with me, but will you take me there?”

Orbius sighs.  “Of course I’ll help you.”  _And Bocob help you see the way,_ he adds mentally.  “I’ll even send in a _simulacrum_ with you.”

The big warrior visibly steels himself.  “All right.  Thank you.”

_*Next Time:*_ Will Inoke shut down the reactor?  How will the radiation affect him?  Find out!


----------



## Greybar

Speaking of the radiation.  Didn't Horbin say that his <i>Heal</i> wouldn't repair the radation damage?  Will only regenerate type spells do it?  How are they healing up so far? Sounds like a nice variant of the vile-damage type idea.

I'm looking forward to how our oozy-heroine gets out of that conundrum.  Maybe a couple days worth of Chaos shifts will at least make her a sentient being again...


----------



## Brain

Greybar said:
			
		

> Speaking of the radiation.  Didn't Horbin say that his <i>Heal</i> wouldn't repair the radation damage?  Will only regenerate type spells do it?  How are they healing up so far? Sounds like a nice variant of the vile-damage type idea.
> 
> I'm looking forward to how our oozy-heroine gets out of that conundrum.  Maybe a couple days worth of Chaos shifts will at least make her a sentient being again...




These questions will both be addressed in upcoming installments, I imagine.  RADs are much more difficult to get rid of than Vile damage.  :\ 

Veil is a chaos lover, and will touch the obelisk or try to get gifts of chaos whenever possible, to the point where I am groaning and hoping she will turn into something like that ooze form so she'll stop touching it.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*A lil' dab will do ya*

Yeah, Brain, I must agree on the whole Chaos touching thing.  Lester has tried repeatedly to use his authority on the matter to tell everyone to touch it, at most, once a day.  But, hey, its hard to get Chaos to fall in line or do anything except what it wants to do.  Its gotten to the point that Orbius is highly reluctant to give people a second chance, via his magic, for the chaotic messes others seem to get into.  The downside to helping someone get back from being an ooze, waterscope, etc., is that they will often just go right back and get more chaos traits.

-J


----------



## the Jester

*In the Reactor*

_*11:30 a.m.*_

Inoke breathes deeply.  He’s more than a little nervous about this, but it has to be done.  Still, he has doubts as to how badly he is going to be affected by the radiation.  So far, probably in part thanks to the suits the party found that offer some degree of protection, none of them has shown any effects other than, perhaps, a slight twinge of nausea.  

But going into the center....!  

Inoke sighs.  He can take the heat, and with the hard suit on and active, he can (hopefully) survive long enough to destroy the crystal.  But afterward... especially if it takes too long to overcome the crystal...

Well, he has the genie bottle.  He has spoken to the genie, and it will give him three _wishes_.  If he must, he will use them.  

Inoke grits his teeth.  _It has to be done._

***

_*Many places at once*_

So much to do, so little time.  

Tendrils of thought snake through the air, riding radio waves.  Steelships slowly begin to light up.  Horrors flicker back to life.  Copper insect-like drones return to tasks they have let gather dust for years.  Slowly the assembly of more war machines begins to ramp up.  

Many of the worker drones are redirected to schemes of power generation.  Radiocrystal batteries must be replaced, solar collectors must be cleaned and calibrated, hydropower generators must be cleared of debris and allowed to turn again.  

Master Control turns its thoughts to the place where it first awoke again.  The transformation is almost complete, though it has taken night unto a decade.  Soon the great city will rise.

***

_*Noon, Thixil Testa*_

Inoke and a _simulacrum_ of Orbius stare into the water-filled shaft.  The water is now actually hot, not merely warm.  Steam rises from it.  They are both protected from the effects of heat, but fear is still plain on the _simulacrum’s_ face.

Down they go.  The heat blisters all around them, but their protections serve them well.  Then, as they near the entrance, the _simulacrum_ starts to feel the radiation as it pinpricks it.  Blood starts to drip from small sores on the faux Orbius.  “I’m not going to make it!” he cries.  He gasps out a _limited wish,_ trying to bring down the force field around the crystal awaiting them, and then dissolves into snow.  

_Oh well,_ Inoke thinks despairingly, _I guess I’m on my own.  I hope that worked and I don’t need to use the genie._

Inoke wears one of the white ceramic ‘hard suits’ the party found earlier in these ancient Miloxi ruins.  The dial on the chest is turned up all the way, and the tiny wires running through the suit are lit up.  It helps a lot- but it doesn’t protect Inoke entirely.  The _wand of Geiger_ built into the suit crackles ceaselessly, a loud buzzing.  The water leading to the crystal is superheated vapor.  As Inoke heads in, he feels the water coating him vaporize in the space of a second.  Grimly, he presses on.  His _energy adaptation_ is protecting him from some of the heat, but he can feel it to some extent, little bits and pieces of him starting to redden and burn.

As he approaches the incandescent violet glare of the crystal, Inoke steels himself.  He can feel a nausea beginning already.

He strikes.

_Crack!_  His blow reflects from the force field.  The _limited wish_ failed.

Inoke pulls out the genie’s bottle and opens it, and the genies issues forth.

“Greetings,” he intones, and then, “Fool mortal!  Where have you summoned me?”

“Quick, genie, I need to use one of my _wishes!_  Maybe more!”

“You fool, you must flee from here!”

“Grant my _wish_, genie- or we’ll stand here arguing!”  Inoke’s words are very persuasive.  

“Very well,” the cat-genie snarls. 

_”I wish that the force field surrounding that crystal was destroyed right now, always and forever!”_ cries Inoke, and with a blast of sound the field collapses.

Inoke lunges forward, _Deadly Avalanche_ swinging in a blur.  He roars as the radioactivity around him degrades both him and the genie.  His great club bounces from the crystal, barely cracking it.

“Master, we must go!”

“Another _wish!_” roars Inoke.  _”I wish that the crystal was destroyed, always and forever!”_ 

His triumphant shout echoes through the blazing radiance of the radiocrystal’s central chamber, and the genie shudders.  “Master... I’m sorry...” he gasps.  “It’s too hot... too much... please, we must flee!”*

“NO!” Inoke shouts.  His stomach is churning and there’s a coppery flavor forming in his mouth.  He’s starting to feel almost drunk.  “This _has to be done!_  Try again!

_”I wish that the crystal was destroyed, always and forever!!!”_

The genie shudders, feeling the radiation burn in its guts.  It has seen radiation poisoning in the past.  It must escape this place quickly, and the only way to do so is to grant this fool mortal his _wish._  Pressing his eyes together, the genie focuses his mind on the mortal’s desire.  Reality warps.  The incandescent crystal gives off one last wild blaze of violet-white light and shatters, spraying shrapnel all across both of them.  A gust of superhot vapor blasts past them, and then suddenly the roar of inrushing water comes towards them.

“Master,” the genie says through a bleeding throat, “I have failed.  I... I owe you a third _wish._  And since I cannot grant it to you, I must serve you for a year and a day.”  The feline head stares straight at Inoke as boiling water rushes towards them.  “Please...” The genie licks his lips.  “May I return to my bottle?”

“Of course,” Inoke says, and the genie vanishes just as the wall of water thunders into the warmind.

***

Inoke vomits and poops blood and can barely get out of bed for seven days.  Finally, after the sickness passes, Lester tells him, “Now watch out; that stuff stays in your body.  Whenever you’re exposed to it, it’s going to keep adding up.  You’ll be okay for now, but we’ve never found a way to remove the effects.”

Inoke shakes his head.  “I’m still glad I did it,” he croaks.  Healing sores are all over his body and he has shaved his head, since most of his hair fell out anyway.  “Otherwise it would have poisoned the people of my island.”

“You may be right.”  Lester shrugs.

***

_*Many places at once*_ 

Master Control is enraged, in a cold way that bags of meat couldn’t possibly understand.  Oh, they feel passion, all right, but it’s all chemical.  Master Control’s rage is perfect, justified by data rather than driven by fluids.  

Thixil Testa did _not_ destroy Lester.  

Interestingly, Master Control saw evidence that one of the individuals with Lester was on that steelship so long ago, when the first bit of its consciousness awoke from its brief imprisonment in an informational cage.  Horbin, he is called, according to the audio sensors with which Master Control had monitored the conversations of the party.

Well.

Soon enough the prototype will reach them, after its journey of so many thousands of miles, and then... Master Control considers it likely that the prototype will destroy its targets easily.  However, it has learned not to underestimate these fleshbags.  If the prototype is destroyed, that is a considerable setback.  But even if that does happen, Master Control will learn a lot about the current capabilities of at least some of his enemies.

It considers.  Many of Lester’s old companions do not appear to be with him now.  Many of them are extremely dangerous, and need to be tracked down.  But all things will come to it in time.  

In time, it will make this place a paradise like no other- a beautiful land, free of the terrible blot of organic sentience.  The humans and their ilk need not die.  They need only lose their ability to reason, forever.

_*Next Time:*_ Worms!

*The poor genie failed his Concentration check when trying to grant the _wish!_


----------



## the Jester

We're one combat away from the next session.  As of then, our party lineup will be as follows (minor spoiler included):

Veil Raybender (doppelganger fighter 6/mindspy 5)- CN, overall ECL 19; presently an ooze.
Gerontius (halfling rogue 11/fighter 4/invisible blade 5)- CN, overall 20th level
Inoke (human barbarian 2/psychic warrior 2/fighter 6/warmind 10)- NG, overall 20th level 
Lester (half-elf elementalist 14/warrior of Chaos 4/divine oracle 3/contemplative 2/paralelementalist 1)- CG, overall 24th level
Sybele (human fighter 8/egoist 12/warrior of chaos 4)- CG, overall 24th level
Baron Lillamere (elven sorcerer 19)- CG, overall 19th level
Horbin the MFKG Holy (human cleric 23)- CG, overall 23rd level
Seethe (human druid 18)- N, overall 18th level
Chakar Clanguard (dwarven monk 18)- LN, overall 18th level
Alcar (half-celestial elven fighter 2/cleric 13)- NG, overall ECL 19

Then there are the cohorts: Jezebel (Sybele's half-dragon lovechild), Orbius (Lester's diviner) and N'Sari (Lillamere's little sister, presently playing sheriff with Thrush in Baron Lillamere's capitol of Brelana).


----------



## hippiejedi2

Inoke learns how to get rid of rads.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Bumpin' for Updates*

A day with no updates?  Could it be?  Woe unto us readers!  (Or is it Weal?  I always forget as neither one sounds all that appetizing.)

-AoA


----------



## Brain

I'd hope that the diviner would know the difference.  Woe is the bad one.


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> A day with no updates?  Could it be?  Woe unto us readers!




You can't say that until the day's over.


----------



## the Jester

*The Thunder Worm*

_*9/16/370 O.L.G., 4 p.m., the Temple of Elemental Good*_

The crack and boom of thunder echoes through the little valley the Temple of Elemental Good sprawls within.  There are literally hundreds of people there, now, between Lester’s religious followers and those enrolled at his school for adventurers.  Many of them hurry inside as fat drops of rain start to drop down from the pregnant clouds above.  Others stay out for the moment, finishing important tasks or covering things that might be harmed by a storm.  Lightning flashes, followed by another boom, very close by.

A group of four miners from the surrounding mountains come jogging up, mostly out of breath.  Their foreman, though, is a tough dwarf.  He has kept his breath easily; and now he shouts out, “Help! Help!  There’s trouble!!”

Inside the the temple building, Sybele, Gerontius, Horbin and Inoke are relaxing over a cup of tea.  Seconds later their cups are left behind, forgotten, Inoke’s overturned in his haste.  

”What’s going on?” calls Horbin as he rushes out the front of the building.  

“Some sort of _worms,_” the dwarf cries, horror in his voice.

“The prophecy,” exclaims Gerontius, adding a colorful curse.

“Where?” Inoke demands.

“O-over the crest,” gasps one of the other miners.  The rain is starting to pound down steadily.  “By the mines.”  He points.

“How many?  What kind of worms?  Where are they?”

“They... you can’t miss them.”  The human, too, shudders.  “There are a lot of them... and they’re _huge._”

Inoke grunts.  “Let me get my armor,” he declares, hurrying back inside.

***

_*4:20 p.m., in the Bendrock Mountains near the Temple of Elemental Good*_

Our heroes ascend quickly, finally reaching an outcropping from which the four of them can see the worms in question.  Gerontius gives a choked, wordless cry.  There are indeed a lot of them; and they are indeed huge.  Mostly twined together in a ropey mass, boiling forth from a collection of holes soaked in weird mucus and slime, the worms vary wildly in appearance.  Some crackle, some are furry, some are pale; some move quickly, some are eyeless, some appear to be made of glass or metal or wood.  Some are slithering away, some are boring into the ground.  

“Those are disgusting!” exclaims Sybele.  The wind whips around the group.  From their current position, they can see that the clouds are roughly at their height.   

“Agreed,” nods Horbin.  “But what do we do about it?  Lester and Orbius are off getting supplies for the temple, and the others went shopping with them.”

“They largely appear to be going down into the holes,” Gerontius remarks.  “We could take one that’s on its own from the air- that way we probably won’t have too much trouble with it.”

They decide that, as much as anything, this is probably a good idea.  So the group takes out one worm from the air in an amazing and quick display of long-distance damage infliction, then returns to the outcropping.  By now most of the worms have gone underground.

“Well, that’s a good start,” Gerontius says.

“Except that now those worms are all in the mountains,” Inoke remarks.

“Hmm, somehow I thought ‘worms’ would mean dragons,” Horbin muses.  “You know, I think-“

*BOOOM!!!*

Suddenly there is a thunderous loud crack of sound that blasts through our heroes.  They scream in pain as their skin is abraded, their teeth cracked, their guts vibrate nauseatingly by the incredible sound.*  Then one of the clouds uncoils and strikes!  There’s a blast of lightning and thunder and Inoke staggers back, shaking his head to clear it.  Electrical burns cover him.  

”This thing is dangerous!” he cries, pulling out Deadly Avalanche.  He splits his mind in two, and his ‘spare brain’ then _expands_ him immensely.  Never a small man, Inoke is suddenly almost 25’ high.  Still, the cloud worm is considerably bigger.

Sybele drops back, firing her bow as she goes.  Some of her arrows pass through it harmlessly, but some of them actually manage to deal damage to it.  Gerontius uses his _ring of invisibility_ to vanish and then attacks from surprise.  The worm, meanwhile, shrugs off an attempt at _destruction_ levied by Horbin, and then touches him and discharges another blast of lightning and thunder.  Inoke pounds at it with no success, as his club just whizzes through the worm’s immaterial body.  

Horbin gets off a _mass heal_ just in time to save Gerontius’ life.  The worm emits another bone-shattering *BOOOM!!!!!*, and the halfling staggers.**  “That one was even worse than before!” he rasps.  “I can’t take another of those!”

Horbin casts another _heal_ on him, and he keeps attacking it on one side while Inoke takes its other flank.  The worm squeals electricity and lashes out, but this time our heroes are working together on a roll.  They time things right, and luck is with them; their magic weapons all bite signficantly into the worm, and finally Inoke lands one last crushing blow on it and it explodes into vapor.

“That thing was _tough,_” Gerontius says, shaken.  “I think we should wait for the others before going after any more of those things.  That one could have killed me easily, if it had attacked me before you healed me.”  He shivers at the thought.  “I don’t want to be worm food!”

“I think you’re right,” Inoke replies.  “We need the others.”

***

_*5 p.m.*_

The angel wheels through the sky, flying through the heart of the storm and then dropping like a stone above the site of the worms.  

They might be a threat to his friends.

Alcar, former Angel of Food, has spent the time since his return from death meditating and praying.  There is very little that he desires; but more than anything, he wants his backpack back.

Alcar sighs inwardly. 

His _backpack of infinite food_ was taken from him by his so-called superiors in Heaven.  He must earn it back.  Well, did he not always use it for good?  What lesson is he to learn?  The frustrating thing is, there _is_ a lesson, he is sure of it, and as long as he is blind to it, he will not be given back his backpack. 

The Temple of Elemental Good lies not far from here.  It is where he was restored to life.  The temple belongs to Lester, one of Alcar’s few friends.  They’ve been through a lot together, by Galador!  They went through _Fuligin_ together!  Alcar can’t let the Temple of Elemental Good go unwarned!

He wings his way to the west, towards the valley of the Elementalist.

_*Next Time:*_ Alcar joins the party!  Our heroes go worming!


*This basically went like this: “Everyone make a Reflex save...  What’s the highest?  Okay, you all fail.  102 points of damage each.”  Ouch, that’s a rough opening move! 

**This time the thunderous boom did 122 hp.  Gerontius, who was at full, has 128 maximum.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

WEAL!  (Right?  Cuz I wanted an update!)

Jester, please be proper and capitalize School of Adventure.  It is THE School of Adventure on Cydra, not just a school of adventure.    

-AoA


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> WEAL!  (Right?  Cuz I wanted an update!)
> 
> Jester, please be proper and capitalize School of Adventure.  It is THE School of Adventure on Cydra, not just a school of adventure.
> 
> -AoA




"There is another." [/Yoda]

Seriously, in the future I will try to remember to do so.


----------



## hippiejedi2

While the thundering/sonic worm did _almost, _kill Gerontiusm various times, don't forget G knocked the worm back  5 ft, thanks to the Jesters colorful crit chart. (The worm= the size of a cloud, not until recently, relatrive to the storyhour, G= the size of a cat)


----------



## the Jester

_*5:10 p.m., just outside the Temple of Elemental Good*_

An angel descends from the rainy sky.  

Inoke, Gerontius and Sybele greet him warily.  “You!” Alcar and Sybele say simultaneously, giving each other hard looks.

“You, uh, know each other?” Inoke asks cautiously.

“Yeah, this is Alcar,” Sybele replies, her voice wary.  “He traveled with us for a little while, but then he died in Bile Mountain.”  Her tone hardens.  “He attacked one of our party members once.”*

Alcar scowls.  “Angelfire was _evil._”

“Yeah, but she was a companion.”

Alcar keeps on scowling.  “We met before that, too, when you were opposing the Light in guarding those eggs!” he barks.  Clearly, old grudges are neither completely forgotten nor completely forgiven.

“Yeah, but we brought you back from the dead,” Sybele reminds him.

“No, _Horbin_ brought me back from the dead,” Alcar retorts righteously.

“What are you doing here, angel?” Inoke asks.

Alcar pauses.  Then he says, “Since _Horbin_ resurrected me, I’ve been meditating nearby.  Just a little while ago I saw some big monstrous worms not far from here.  Lots of them.  I came to warn the Temple of Elemental Good.”

“We just fought two of them,” Inoke says.

“One of them was _tough._”  Gerontius shivers.  “It could let loose a noise so loud that it almost overwhelmed me.”

“Where’s Lester?” Alcar asks.

“He and Orbius are getting supplies in Var.  They’ll be back later, but we don’t know exactly when.”  

Alcar and Inoke have what Inoke now considers a necessary conversation with anyone who has traveled with our heroes before: the Drelvin Conversation.  Inoke confesses that he killed Drelvin while magically insane, and then waits for an explosion.  Alcar simply nods.  “I’ve had a few insane friends in my time.  Some would have even called my brother Cyrax insane.”

The party places the Temple of Elemental Good on alert.  Then they rest, with orders that they be awoken at the first sign of trouble.  Early the next mornng they get up and split their forces.  Gerontius will scout the holes the worms came out of while the others teleport to Var, where Alcar will try to figure out what they can do for Veil.  “I’ve seen Chaos at work before,” he says.

Soon Veil is taken to an isolated spot in one of the ruined areas of Var.  Old burnt timbers, half-buries by the dust and dirt of decades, provide our heroes with the means to create a crude enclosure in which they dump Veil’s oozy form.  Then Alcar attempts a _break enchantment,_ and while it does seem to lesson the overall level of Chaos that has a hold on Veil, it does not restore her from the form of an ooze, nor does it relieve her of the Chaos curse that continues to change her most days.

“I’ll try again tomorrow,” Alcar declares.  “I’m certain, given time, we can make it work.  And I’ll do some research to see if there’s a way to be more certain, more effective.  Here, have a pie.”  He casts _create food and drink_ and makes a succession of apple pies.

***

_*10 p.m., the mountainside above the Temple of Elemental Good*_

_I’m going to kill you._

The voice appears in Gerontius’ mind suddenly and without warning.  He recognizes it; he has received two other such _sendings_ before.  

Who is it?  Why?  He puzzles, scratches his head, stays armed, stays wary; but nothing comes at him.

_I need to find out about this,_ he worries, and, _Or am I just going crazy?_

***

_*9/18/370 O.L.G., noon, near the worm holes*_

Our heroes move in to the valley.  Veil has returned to her construct form; but her time as an ooze seems to have taught her nothing.  She still thirsts for more Chaos.  Alcar waggles his finger at her.  “Learn your lesson,” he says sternly.  At least he also rid her of the Chaos curse.  

Gerontius reports that he saw lots of worm sign but no actual worms while scouting it out.  However, when they reach the area he had examined, he exclaims, “Hey, those are new holes!”

“Are you sure?” asks Sybele.

“Of course I’m sure.”  The halfling snorts.

“That means they come back here for some reason,” Lillamere remarks.  “That means we can wait for them.”

“But there’s only a couple of new holes.  Only a couple of them came back,” Gerontius points out.

The party is silent for a moment.  Then Sybele asks, “Well, where are the other ones?”

***

_*7 p.m.*_

A strange keening sound emerges from the ground.  Our heroes tense; after many hours of waiting, could this be what they are after?

Yes.  

A huge worm crawls forth from the earth.  It looks like it is made of glass.  The dying light of the setting sun scintillates and glimmers off of it.  

The party is far from its point of emergence at first.  However, they start moving in and firing long-range effects immediately.  Just as immediately the glass worm shows that it can throw off magic; it completely ignores the dark dweomer of Lillamere’s _crushing fist of spite,_ although Alcar’s _flame strike_ does manage to inflict some damage on it.  As the thing gets with a couple of hundred feet, however, it spits a spray of glass shards, driving sharp razors of glass into our heroes!

Alcar buzzes by and damages it with a _destruction_ spell, failing to slay it but certainly inflicting harm.  As he gets too close, the light glaring off the thing’s body blinds him!  He cries out in dismay, and lands near it, drawing out his mace.  Groping for a target, he begins striking it blindly with uncanny accuracy, over and over.  It lashes back at him, slicing him with razor sharp glass teeth and bombarding him with sprays of glass.

Lillamere curses as the worm shrugs off his _puncture._  He can’t seem to hit it with _anything,_ damn it!  Gritting his teeth angrily, the elven sorcerer slowly builds a _disintegrate_ up to maximum effect.  It takes longer to cast it that way, and it makes his chest feel very full, but the reward is worth it as he finally penetrates the thing’s innate resistance.  Although he doesn’t destroy it, a chunk of it is utterly annihilated, and the thing keens again in obvious distress.  Then Inoke and Gerontius move in, flanking it.  Inoke pounds on it again and again with _Deadly Avalanche,_ and every time it tries to writhe away from him, Gerontius savagely jabs and pokes it from the other side.  Finally, the halfling jams both daggers into it up to the hilt, and the worm gives a last thrashing cry and dies.

“Whew!” says Gerontius, “that one wasn’t nearly as tough as the sky worm thingie, but it could sure take a beating.”

“And give one,” Alcar adds, healing himself.  After a few minutes of maintenance on themselves, our heroes check to see if anything else is coming out of the worm’s tunnel.  Nothing.  So they repair to the Temple of Elemental Good for the evening.  Naturally, much discussion ensues about the worms: Do you think they have a lair in the mountains?  Where are they coming from?  Are they intelligent?  How many are there?  Are they just in Dorhaus, or all over Cydra?  The party discusses the Prophecy of the Worms again, showing their transcription of it to Alcar.

“I’ll _commune_ with Galador in the morning,” Alcar promises.

“Ask Him if the worms have any treasure,” Gerontius urges.

***

The former Angel of Food is as good as his word.

_If we follow the glass worm’s tunnel will we find the center?_ *A center.*
_Is the force that drives the worms evil?_ *No.*
_Do the worms have any treasure?_ *No.*
_Are there worms all over Cydra?_ *Yes.*
_Is the Temple of Elemental Good safe from the worms at this time?_ *No.*
_Is Brelana?_ *No.*
_Is there a way to kill all the worms at once?_ *No.*
_Is the ‘Hive’ mentioned in the Prophecy of the Worms on Dorhaus?_ *No.*
_Is Xurkrischis slain?_ *Yes.*
_Do the forces of Law know the Prophecy of the Worms?_ *No.*
_Do the worms have a leader?_ *No.*
_Can all the worms be controlled?_ *No.*
_Have I done enough in Your name to earn the honor of my backpack?_ *No.*

Alcar sighs heavily.  He relates that which he has learned that concerns the worms.  

“So there aren’t any easy outs,” Lillamere muses.

“We can kill them all, but it might take a long time,” Inoke says slowly.

“Well, we can check out the center behind the glass worm’s tunnel,” suggests Veil.  

Lester and Orbius return from gathering supplies at about this point.  They are both quite surprised and cautiously happy to see Alcar.  They exchange some old stories of the days when they fought beside Stone and Hobbes and Malador and the others... traveling with Dexter and Malford... ahhh, the good old days.

Following the tunnel leads to a worm that is trying to pretend that its gullet is the tunnel our heroes want to enter.  A _meteor swarm_ from Orbius goes down the hatch substantially worse than a party of adventurers would- talk about heartburn!- and the worm finishes learning its lesson at the hands of Lester’s _horrid wilting_.  Beyond it, the party finds a strange central area with a strange, pulsating growth at its center.  

“Whoa,” breathes Inoke.  “What is that?”

The growth is easily 50’ in diameter, and it moves and pulses, seemingly at random.  For a few fleeting moments, an entrance seems to open up in it.  

“We could go inside,” suggests Veil.

“We should prepare first, and find out what we can about it,” Orbius declares.  “That might be a very hazardous environment.  We might need very specialized survival tactics in there.  We don’t know yet.  I think we should find out before we do anything hasty.”

The party agrees, and they walk back up the glass worm’s tunnel, mindful for any sign of changes, but it looks the same as when they entered.  As they exit, the tunnel, they are deep in conversation, but several of them nonetheless hear a strange, loud whistling sound.

Then there’s fire and shrapnel spraying all about them as, about a mile away, Master Control’s prototype launches its missiles and goes into full combat mode, looking for all the world like a huge metal dragonfly bristling with shrarp pointy things.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes fight a strange metal dragonfly!


*Way back here.


----------



## Krafus

Aah, the further adventures of very high-level characters, always fun to read...



> Veil Raybender (doppelganger fighter 6/mindspy 5)- CN, overall ECL 19; presently an ooze.
> Gerontius (halfling rogue 11/fighter 4/invisible blade 5)- CN, overall 20th level
> Inoke (human barbarian 2/psychic warrior 2/fighter 6/warmind 10)- NG, overall 20th level
> Lester (half-elf elementalist 14/warrior of Chaos 4/divine oracle 3/contemplative 2/paralelementalist 1)- CG, overall 24th level
> Sybele (human fighter 8/egoist 12/warrior of chaos 4)- CG, overall 24th level
> Baron Lillamere (elven sorcerer 19)- CG, overall 19th level
> Horbin the MFKG Holy (human cleric 23)- CG, overall 23rd level
> Seethe (human druid 18)- N, overall 18th level
> Chakar Clanguard (dwarven monk 18)- LN, overall 18th level
> Alcar (half-celestial elven fighter 2/cleric 13)- NG, overall ECL 19
> 
> Then there are the cohorts: Jezebel (Sybele's half-dragon lovechild), Orbius (Lester's diviner) and N'Sari (Lillamere's little sister, presently playing sheriff with Thrush in Baron Lillamere's capitol of Brelana).




Yipes! With a party that big - and the cohorts - no wonder the PCs are rolling over near everything that crosses their path. I wonder how the TPK at Bile Mountain or whatever it was called would have gone if all the PCs and their cohorts had been there?


----------



## the Jester

Krafus said:
			
		

> Yipes! With a party that big - and the cohorts - no wonder the PCs are rolling over near everything that crosses their path. I wonder how the TPK at Bile Mountain or whatever it was called would have gone if all the PCs and their cohorts had been there?




Well, the party was a slightly different configuration at the time, but either way the key mistake (imo) they made at Bile Mountain was a classic: they split up.  Given the opposition there, I doubt whether anything short of not splitting up would have made a significant difference.


----------



## the Jester

Sensors lock on targets.  Range is ascertained by targeting lasers and the bounce of radar.  The thing acclerates toward the party, preparing for a bombing run.  Heavy weapons cycle up, drawing power from deep within the dragonfly’s metal abdomen, and then-

_Targets lost._

They vanish from the dragonfly’s sites, reappearing instantaneously near it.  Several of them spend a moment or two taking steps to fly, while those in the party who can already fly strike back.  Lester’s powerful wings beat the air as he strikes with his sword.  Again and again it bites down- to no avail.  Some kind of force field surrounds the strange prototype horror.

“I can’t get through its force field- Orbius, Lillamere, make it yield!” the L cries.

“I’m on it!” Baron Lillamere calls back, and a greenish ray springs from his fingertips.  In a flash of green light, the field is destroyed.  

From the monster’s central axis, long gleaming metal tentacles with whirling circular blades emerge.  The horror lashes out around itself, wounding Veil, Sybele and Lester.  Blood sprays scarlet in the sky.  Again and again the blades whiz in.  Lester parries several strikes, as does Inoke (once he reaches it).  More missiles spray out, blasting most of our heroes.  Strange beams shoot from large tubes on the thing. 

Sybele tries to grapple the horror, but it’s too big.  It throws off her attempts, badly wounding her with the spinning blades it sports in the process.  She curses after several failed attempts and finally starts trying to do battle with her sword.  

The battle rages, the warriors spinning and dipping in the sky.  Blasts of incredible fury pound both our heroes and the horror, until finally a blast of _seeker missiles_ leaves it smoking and wobbling in the air.  Sybele strikes with her greatsword, thrusting into one of the rents in the outer surface of the horror, and she feels a shock of electricity run through her arms as she penetrates something important.

Then the dragonfly horror explodes.  Metal and flames burst out and Sybele gives a shocked yell.  She is torn and burned by the flaying spray of hot metal and crystal; but, though shaken, she survives.  So do the others that are caught in the area (Inoke, Lester and Gerontius).

“What the hell was that?” she exclaims, turning to her friends.

“Let’s get some ground under us,” suggests Inoke, and the party lands nearby.  

Lester looks worried.  “A horror of clockwork, it seemed to be; we’ve fought them before, old enemies!”  

***

_*9/19/370 O.L.G., 1:45 p.m., the Temple of Elemental Good*_

Gerontius curse long and loud.  _How many times am I going to get threats by _sending?_  And who is threatening me?  And why?_  He shakes his head.  Not for the first time, he wonders when the other shoe will drop.

Meanwhile, Orbius is preparing a suite of divinations.  First he intends to _contact other plane_ twice; then he will verify the answers with a _commune._  Having been told about the black cathedral in the Stinking Pit, and about the room that seemed devoted to Farenth, the old enemy of Dexter who had been the Son of Darkness to his Son of Light, Orbius is worried.  _Farenth has lived twice,_ he thinks.  _Things often come in threes... could it be?_

He casts his spell.

_Where can we find Farenth?_ *Abyss.*
_Why does he want to threaten  the Temple of Elemental Good?_ *Revenge.*  (The _commune_ later reveals this answer, and several others, to be a lie.  Alas, Orbiusis meanwhile sent off on a tangent.)
_How long until he strikes?_ *Days.*  (Another lie.)
_Is it better for us to be ready or to make a preemptive strike?_ *Strike.*  (Yet another lie.  The dice were really against Orbius that game.)
_Who is the most powerful ally of his we’re likely to encounter on this strike?_ *Zoriel.*
_Who is Farenth’s current patron demon?_ *Zoriel.*
_What type of demon is Zoriel?_ *Unique.*
_Will I be able to _gate_ us to Farenth?_ *No.*
_Will we be able to _superior teleport_ once we’re on that plane of the Abyss?_ *Yes.*
_Are we likely to catch Farenth by surprise by using this tactic?_ *Don’t know.*

Orbius chants and gestures, casting another one.

_Will we be able to _gate_ our of Zoriel’s castle?_ *Yes.*
_Will we be able to _superior teleport_ to Farenth once we’re on that plane of the Abyss?_ *Yes.*  (This, too, is revealed to be a lie by the _commune_ he casts momentarily.
_Was I lied to about being able to _gate_ in?_ *No.*
_What is Zoriel’s greatest weakness?_ *Pride.*
_What energy based attack will be most effective against Zoriel?_ *Sonic.*
_What type of damage is Farenth weakest against?_ *Don’t know.*
_Can Farenth or Zoriel prepare transvalent spells of epic proportions?_ *Yes.*

_Crap,_ Orbius thinks.

_What is the name of Zoriel’s most favored epic spell?_ *Sun Twist.*
_What members of our party would be most vulnerable to this spell?_ *Everyone.*
_What level of the Abyss does Castle Zoriel reside on?_ *The Blasted Salts.*

“Crap,” Orbius says aloud.

***

*9/20/370 O.L.G., 10:30 a.m.*

Our heroes are sitting around having tea and other similar beverages (and, in Lester’s case, smoking a joint) when Horbin receives a _sending.

Horbin- it’s Malford- very busy with important issues affecting whole kingdom and more- best way to contact is _sending.

Horbin, pleased to hear from the King, responds, telling him that there are dangerous worms and that they party was attacked by a clockwork horror.  Afterwards, after a considerable amount of thought, he casts a _sending_ of his own, this one to the Tiger Empress.*

_This is Horbin the Holy.  Giant worms are attacking Cydra, we need to work togtether for the good of all._

Her response: _Horbin, swear allegiance to me and help me bring peace to Dorhaus- we must work together to end this conflict._  Horbin curses.  He wants her to see reason, not try to push her agenda on him.  Then he smiles ironically to himself.  Of course, that’s probably how she sees it too- she wants _him_ to see reason, and not try to push his agenda on her.  The cleric chuckles.

Once their beverages are finished, our heroes move outside.  The sun is shining; the ground, though moist from the rain of the last few days, is drying quickly.

“All right,” says Orbius, “let’s go check out that egg-thing in the middle of the worms’ nest.”

“Speaking of eggs,” Inoke remarks, “we should find out what’s going on with that egg from the gibbering garden.”

“Well, Lester had the Temple of Elemental Good Water store it...”  Horbin frowns.

“We’ll check after we examine the worm place,” Orbius nods.  “Good idea.”

Our heroes depart for the center of the worms’ nest.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes fight their first epic slaadi!


*The Tiger Empress is the descendant of Rajah, last of the ancient line that ruled Wotan, the southeastern quarter of Dorhaus before Fuligin came.  Now it is called the Tiger Lands, where she has come to make her claim.  She is Prayzose’s wife and Malford’s main rival on Dorhaus.  Horbin wants a unified Dorhaus, but neither Malford nor the Tiger Empress seem likely to budge of their own free will.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Unaired Footage*

The neat part left of out the battle was that, while messing around in the cave, Orbius' foresight went off.  He went outside and had the dragonfly target him, and cast a readied Force Cage around himself millaseconds before impact.  Then he Time Stopped, buffed up, and teleported the party on top of the creature before it could reload.  He got some complaints for teleporting the party so high in the air without warning, but it seemed like the best thing to do at the time.

Also, until now, none of us knew this thing was from Ekrector.  We just assumed it had been sent by the forces of Law and was some type of wierd Inevitable.

-AoA


----------



## the Jester

Our heroes appear near the central chamber of the worm nest they had earlier explored.  The strange, pulsing mass of... stuff is still there.  It’s huge.  It looks almost waxen.  It flexes and melts and changes.

“Chaos?”  Gerontius looks wary.

“It looks like it could be,” Lester rhymes, “the home of the worms maybe?”

“Let’s find out.”  Inoke draws his greatclub out.  The party buffs up, and then Inoke leads the way in.  The party heads inside the mass through a tunnel.  As they proceed, the way closes behind them.  None of them even slow down; they were more than half-expecting to be closed off.  Orbius has already telepathically linked them, and they chatter silently as they advance.

Then the hole they are traversing opens up into a large chamber.  Some sort of croaking sound is coming from within.  As the party moves in, a loud phlegmy sound comes from one side, and Horbin cries out as a disgusting mass of chaotically-changing mucus lands on him.  Two large white slaadi of some kind emerge from the walls of the room; the source of the croaking is suddenly clear.

“Watch out!” Horbin cries.  “This stuff burns!”

Orbius fires off a volley of _seeker missiles,_ blasting into one of the slaadi, but it heals the damage almost instantly.  Inoke, meanwhile, performs a heedless charge and unleashes an amazing amount of damage on the other slaad, knocking it from its feet and leaving it almost jellied on the ground!

Unfortunately, the thing starts healing almost immediately- and quickly.  Smashed bones begin knitting together, torn organs repair themselves, the flow of weird blood slows.

The other slaad tears at Gerontius, but the quick little halfling spins and dodges around the worst of it, then slashes at the monster with his daggers, first breaking several ribs and then punching out a bunch of teeth!*  The slaad staggers back, then staggers again as a wave of powerful spells breaks upon its spell resistance.  Inoke’s stature increases as he _expands_ and moves his relentless attack to the standing slaad.  Gerontius cackles as he moves into flanking.

Horbin, meanwhile, attempts to dissipate the mucus all over him.  It’s burning intensely, corrupting his skin and flesh with chaotic energy.  _At least it isn’t inflicting any Chaos traits on me,_ he thinks wryly.  But he can’t seem to stop it with anything!  With a groan, he decides he’d better just get on with taking the slaadi down before it takes _them_ down.

Orbius has already played his best card: a _time stop._  He followed that with a _prismatic sphere,_ leaving him at least safe from the slaadi for the moment, and _spell turning_ in case he has to leave it; then, as soon as his time flow matches that of the world around him, he casts a _puncture_ at the slaad that’s up, but it fails to drop it.

On the ground, the slaad that Inoke knocked down with his charge opens its eyes.  With a croak it _greater teleports_ away.  The remaining white slaad croaks out a terrible croak and Gerontius shouts, “I can’t see!”  With a wicked grin, the slaad prepares a devastating follow through.

_BOOM! BOOM!_  Suddenly a set of _fire seeds_ explodes on the slaad, hurled from the side by Horbin the MFKG Holy.  The frog-like monster stumbles back, and Orbius hits it with a _dimensional anchor._  Unable to flee, the monster instead falls as Lester pounds it with a _chain lightning._  Then it becomes a matter of _keeping_ it down.  Finally, Inoke finishes it off by hurling it into the _prismatic sphere._ 

Our heroes look around.  The entrance they had used to enter is entirely gone, now, but there is another exit forming.

“This place is weird,” remarks Inoke.  He pulls out the genie bottle.  Since it failed to grant him three _wishes_- though it did try- it must serve him for a year and a day.  Inoke would release him from his service if he could, but it is not possible.  So he instead summons forth the genie, named Djoula Al-Hiwarij, and asks him whether he can discern anything about the place.

“This place is pure chaos!” Djoula exclaims immediately.  “I would be very careful if I were you!”

Lillamere uses a dagger to cut a sample from the wall and bags it.  When he does, a fat grub as long as his hand falls out of the hole.  Inoke squishes it.  

“Is this where they come from?” wonders Lillamere.  The exit that had momentarily opened up is gone again, and the chamber they are in seems to be shrinking.  The elven sorcerer _disintegrates_ a hole in the wall with a flash of green light, and our heroes enter another chamber, but immediately they halt.  Something huge and amorphous, flowing and bubbling and changing, moves quickly towards them.

“Genie, you might want to go back in the bottle- for your own sake,” Inoke remarks.

“That you, Master,” Djoula replies, “for your foresight.”  The cat-headed genie turns into smoke and quickly pours into his bottle.

Waves of Chaos pour from the creature, affecting the environment around it.  Things flex and change.  Our heroes can feel the lurch in their stomachs that signifies reality warping all around the strange mass of protoplasmic chaos.  Lillamere cries out as a rip in reality appears next to him suddenly, trying to suck him in!  He throws himself flat, narrowly escaping being sucked away to another plane!  A moment later, the same thing nearly happens to Orbius.  

The party’s first volley of spells all fail to penetrate the thing’s spell resistance, much to the chagrin of the casters.  Following up, Lester manages to hit it with a _delayed blast fireball_ to immense effect.  Then Inoke reaches it and pound the weird ooze to, er, jelly. 

Behind the ooze, another potential exit is shrinking shut.  Our heroes move through it before it can close completely, and then Lillamere blasts a hole in another wall.  Soon our heroes bump into another slaad, this one a grey so dark that is almost black, wearing a nice cloak.  It cows quickly before our heroes’ might, and groveling, it teaches them how to control their surroundings by main force of will.  Inoke lets it live in return for its cloak.

“All right, I think we’re in Limbo at this point,” Orbius declares.  “I think that ‘heart’ at the center of the worms’ nest is a gate of some kind.”

The party attempts to _plane shift_ to Cydra.  It works, just as Orbius predicted.  

***

_*9/21/370 O.L.G., 5 p.m., the Temple of Elemental Good*_

Once again Orbius uses two _contact other planes_ and a _commune_ to verify his answers.  He’s been thinking a lot in bigger and bigger terms lately, but- he notes to himself- he’s still going to ask how to get Jezebel to like him again.  

Among his more interesting questions:

_What do I need to finish to get Jezebel to like me again?_ *Githyanki.*
_Tell me when the worms of chaos will attack the Temple of Elemental Good?_ *20.*
_How about Lillamere’s lands?_ *3.*
_Where’s the best place for us to go to find a portal to Sigil?_ *Ironboot.*
_Where’s the best place for us to go in Sigil to find out about the worms?_ *Library.*
_What would it take to close off the portals from chaos allowing the worms into Cydra?_ *Spell.*
_Given our capabilities, what is the best spell to do this?_ *Miracle.*
_Will a wish work?_ *Yes.*
_Where do we need to go to cast this spell?_ *Gate.*
_Will a superior teleport take me to this gate?_ *One.*
_How many gates are there?_ *29.*
_Is it possible to redirect the gates so they open elsewhere?_ *Yes.*
_What can we do to enhance our ability to will the gates to open elsewhere?_ *Library.*

Interesting indeed.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes go to Sigil for the first time!

*Two crits in a row.  Owie!


----------



## Brain

the Jester said:
			
		

> Behind the ooze, another potential exit is shrinking shut. Our heroes move through it before it can close completely, and then Lillamere blasts a hole in another wall. Soon our heroes bump into another slaad, this one a grey so dark that is almost black, wearing a nice cloak. It cows quickly before our heroes’ might, and groveling, it teaches them how to control their surroundings by main force of will. Inoke lets it live in return for its cloak.




Lillamere also cast _Soul's Treasure Lost_ on the poor slaad, and its sword disappeared.


----------



## the Jester

Brain said:
			
		

> Lillamere also cast _Soul's Treasure Lost_ on the poor slaad, and its sword disappeared.




Ah yes, forgot about that! 

Talk about a rotten spell...


----------



## the Jester

*A Trip to Sigil*

_*8:30 p.m., Ironboot, Tirchond*_

Evening has drawn down on the dwarven community of Ironboot, but the dwarves’ remarkable sense of industry keeps their shops open, keeps them working in the mines, keeps them doggedly hammering at the forge, just generally keeps them going.  If asked, one of the dwarves would tell you that (unlike certain other lazy folk) dwarves work til the night would have fallen during the summer, usually til almost 9 p.m.  This is all to the good; it allows our heroes to enter the shop wherein the portal they need is.  It has taken them several hours to track down the location.  Now that they have done so, they want to find out all they can about it and go through it as soon as possible.

The proprietor recognizes our heroes; it seems that their reputation preceeds them (especially Lester’s).  Fortunately, this turns out, in the dwarven merchant’s case, to translate into hero worship.  He doesn’t know much about Sigil or the portal that he keeps under wraps in the attic, but he’s happy to let them use it after gathering a few autographs.  He beams happily.

Through the portal, then- except that it doesn’t take them anywhere.  The dwarf explains that first they must obtain the key, which is held by a strange creature elsewhere.  “It’s a...” he starts, then frowns.  “A strange creature,” he repeats.  But when our heroes seek it out, it surrenders the key to them happily “in the name of our lord Boccob.”  Strange, indeed- the creature is a mass of tendrils and fungal material, truly the weirdest-looking non-morphing creature that our heroes have ever seen.  It seems that alllies come in all shapes, indeed.

When our heroes return to the portal in the dwarf’s attic, they find that the key allows them through the gateway.  On the other side they find themselves in the City of Doors.

Sigil- none of our heroes have ever visited it.  Several of them have heard of it before; but to be there is something else again.  There is no sun, just a sort of grimy ambient light.  The buildings are a haphazard mess of different materials and styles.  The portal deposits our heroes right in the middle of a broad avenue, and walking past them on either side are folk of all descriptions, from the mundane to the fantastic.  To one side a pair of celestials deep in conversation pass.  Over there walks a weird ram-centaur.  And is that a nycadaemon?  The babble of conversations in cosmic tongues washes over our heroes.  Several of them recognize snatches of Celestial, Infernal and Abyssal.  It’s amazing- none of our heroes have ever seen anything like it before. 

As it turns out, Jezebel _has_ been here before, with Marius (in her earlier years).  She doesn’t know her way around at all, but she knows enough.  “We should hire a tout,” she tells her mother.

“What’s a tout?” asks Sybele.  

“A guide, basically.”

She helps them engage the services of Little Alex, a young lad who is cheerful and happy to aid the party for a little scrill.  Even when there is a common tongue between our heroes and someone else, the people in this city seem to have a very specialized, odd lingo.  It’s a little baffling, but with his aid they find an inn and become oriented to the portal.  They give him some coin and arrange for him to be his tout whenever they’re in town.  Little Alex, sensing a lucrative long-term arrangement, happily agrees.  He’s just earned more money in one day than he usually does in a week. 

“What are we doing here, again?” asks Inoke.

”We’re going to research the worms, and how to redirect the portals,” Orbius answers.  “There’s supposed to be a great library of Boccob here somewhere.”

Lillamere says, “But they’re going to attack in three days, right?”

“Yeah...”

“So we don’t really have time.  Maybe we should try to shut that gate by the Temple of Elemental Good down, and if there’s one near Brelana, we should shut it down as well.”

“Well, if we research how to redirect them first, we can-“

“My people will _die,_” Baron Lillamere interrupts severely.  “That is not acceptable.”

Orbius nods reluctantly.  “You’re right, of course.  We’ll return here later.  But while we’re here, let’s find a place to buy scrolls.  There’s a spell called _seal portal_ that I think might help us a lot.”

***

_*11 p.m., the center of the worms’ nest near the Temple of Elemental Good*_

Our heroes _superior teleport_ to the portal letting the worms in nearest Brelana.  They are expecting trouble, and they certainly get it.  

A black slaad awaits them- fast and deadly.  Orbius immediately casts a _time stop_, but to his horror the thing keeps coming.  All around him his friends are a frozen tableau- but not his enemy.

“Oh dear,” Orbius says faintly.

_*Next Time:*_ Can Orbius hold out against an epic slaad by himself for a few rounds??  Wait and see!


*Note:* I had never run or played in Sigil in my life before this session.  Never did Planescape or anything.  I've skimmed through a few of the books back in the day, and I own one of the monstrous compendiums from 2e and the Planar Handbook, but that's it.  Despite that, I think that the party's trip to Sigil had a cool Planescapey feel to it, and I've become very interested in reading up on all the old PS stuff.  You'll see a lot more of Sigil in the future- the party has made it almost a 2nd home lately.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Sigil Kicks Butt!*

Yeah, Sigil is pretty sweet.  Its nice that it seems fairly removed from the War of Ethics, . . . well, at least until recently.


----------



## omrob

*and some...*



			
				Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Yeah, Sigil is pretty sweet.




I strongly recommend you all check out this storyhour for some excellent Sigilian flavah: 

http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?t=77613

Their party begins, is from, and is based out of Sigil. Shem's got some excellent description of more of the famous locales.

Back to Sigil! (After we dispatch the slaadi, :sniff: )


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Don't let me fall off the first page!


----------



## the Jester

The black slaad croaks laughter.  _Obviously this wizard has never seen someone spell stowaway on his _time stop_ before.  Well, this will be a good learning experience for him!_  It hops grotesquely forward towards Orbius.

Orbius is shaken by the fact that the slaad is moving within his _time stop._ _How is that possible?_ he wonders.  Gulping, the wizard steps back and casts a _prismatic sphere._  “What are you doing here?” he demands, taking heart as it stops outside his ward.  “What are the worms doing?  Are you creating them?”

The slaad croaks and stalks outside the sphere, staring intently at Orbius.  With an angry, frightened snarl the human casts _lower resistance_ on the slaad.  _Darkness_ sudenly enshrouds the slaad, Orbius and the area around them.  Though it is light within his _prismatic sphere,_ all around it is blackness.

Time starts to flow again.  To our heroes, it suddenly goes dark.  Jezebel uses the cover of darkness to cast _greater invisibility_ on herself.  Lillamere tries to dispel the darkness, but fails.  Frowning, he uses a _sunburst_ instead, which blasts the darkness away instantly.  Lester, meanwhile, invokes _true seeing_ and then hucks a quickened _fireball_ at the slaad.  It seems injured, but only a tiny bit.  Then Inoke slams his club through the air, catching the frog-like outside in the side.  It staggers as the burly human deals blow after blow to it.  

Lester notes that, even with all of them pounding it heartily, it is healing quickly.  Worse, it seems far from the end of its strength.  Inoke presses his physical attack, hitting the slaad so hard that it is nauseated,* but it does not fall!  The L scowls, his wings flexing as he casts a very powerful spell of Elemental Earth- _imprisonment._  Orbius bestows a _true strike_ on him as the L moves forward, charging in- and still missing!  The others keep hammering at it, and Lester steps forward again, this time brushing his fingers against its huge thigh.  Grinning, he steps away from it.  

The slaad gives a hideous croak as the ground beneath it opens.  A strange, crystalline sphere forms around the beast, and it is dragged deep below the ground.  The fissure seals shut with a grinding noise.  

“Wow,” comments Inoke after a moment.

“Well, unfortunately, that means we can’t question him, but that’s okay- we can use the _seal portal_ scroll to close this off from the worms.”  Orbius unfurls the parchment he acquired in Sigil and casts the spell from it.  The gate flares for a moment, then stops pulsing and moving.  Its color changes to an inert grey.  

“Is that it?” asks Lillamere.  “Can that be undone?”

“Yes,” says Orbius soberly.  “Ultimately, _anything_ can be undone.”

***

_*9/22/370 O.L.G., 9:30 a.m., Var*_

Inoke accompanies Veil to the shrine of Na’Rat in order to “receive his reward.”  For what, he’s uncertain, but Veil insists he’s due one.  So he touches the obelisk, getting his first taste of Chaos in the form of extremely bad body odor.  He shakes his head.  _I should have known better after watching Veil go through his ooze form and such,_ he chastises himself.  Sybele too touches it, to no visible effect; but it soon becomes apparent that she can no longer remember the names of any creature.  In fact, even when she is told a name, it slips away instantly.  

“Oh well.  Let’s go, big warmind cat helmet guy!”

The part goes back to Sigil, _greater teleporting_ directly to the portal in the dwarf’s attic and going straight through it, then seeking out Little Alex for help in gaining accomodations.  By mid-afternoon they are seeking the Library of Boccob, hoping to do some research on their worm problem.  

The Library of Boccob is a fairly large building, but the doors are closed and there is a notice posted on them that reads *AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY!*  Our heroes approach to knock, however, and the doors swing open before them.

“Maybe this means we’re authorized personnel,” suggests Orbius. 

Indeed it does, as they discover when they enter and they meet the librarian- who appears to be a tall humanoid with a large eyeball for a head, who calls himself ‘the Eye of Boccob’ (just as Orbius does!).  Inoke almost immediately christens him ‘the Eyebrarian’, which he takes in stride.  He acts as if he knows the party was coming (“he is an agent of Boccob,” Orbius points out).

“Can you help us find answers to the problems that plague us?” Horbin asks.

“I can give you access to Boccob’s Library,” the Eyebrarian responds.  He gestures at the impressive number of books all around the group.  

“That could be very useful,” Orbius admits.

“Moreover, there is the special stack.”  The Eyebrarian leads the party to a shelf set aside from the rest of the books.  On it are dozens of thick tomes.  Eyes grow wide as our heroes study the shelf.  “These are set aside for those who know Boccob’s special favor.”  

“I can see why,” breathes Orbius.  The tomes are magical treatises of great power, full of lost knowledge and lore no longer known to the masters of the current age.  It looks very promising.  “How could one gain the favor of Boccob in order to gain access to these books?”

“Funny you should ask.”  Had he a mouth, the Eyebrarian would have been grinning.  “Because of Boccob’s position in the Great War of Ethics, the forces of Law seek to take or destroy these tomes.  They have dispatched an elite force of ice devils, inevitables, angels and so forth to do so.  If you can overcome them, Boccob will grant each of you one of the books.”

Horbin splutters, “Wait a second!  Did you just say _devils and angels?_  Oh, that’s blasphemy!  That’s unbelievable!  How dare they!!  Angels serving the purpose of devils- fools, fools!  They should know better.  They are falling from the Light, oh yes they are!”

“They would argue,” the Eyebrarian states ironically, “that rather than the angels doing the work of devils, the _devils_ are, in their own way, serving the will of Galador.”

“Of course they would!” snaps Horbin. 

***

_*9/24/370 O.L.G., the Library of Boccob, Sigil*_

Orbius again uses two _contact other planes_ followed by a _commune_ to verify the answers.  The most interesting questions he asks are the ones unrelated to the current mission:

_Is Master Control still active?_ *Yes.*
_Is E-Krektor still active?_ *Yes.*
_Is Master Control in control of Inoke’s helmet?_ *No.*
_Has Malford taken refuge in Ketzia?_ *No.*

Other than that, his answers lead him to the conclusion that a preemptive strike is the best way to defeat the agents of Law.  

“Let’s do it,” declares Sybele.  “We’ll rest, and then my daughter’s wizard pal and the elf who is the other dead elf’s nephew and the cleric of the sun god can buff us up!  And then we’ll go attack these agents of Law for the cleric of that one god!”

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes make a preemptive strike!

*He has one of the style feats from CW.


----------



## Brain

the Jester said:
			
		

> Inoke presses his physical attack, hitting the slaad so hard that it is nauseated,* but it does not fall!
> 
> *He has one of the style feats from CW.




Yes, the Three Mountains weapon style feat.  In a nutshell, with certain blunt weapons, if you damage the opponent twice in the same round, they save vs. nausea.  

Inoke rejected his gift of chaos, and got Orbius to cast a _Break Enchantment_ on him to remove its effects.


----------



## hippiejedi2

chaos is fun, i didn't know inoke took part in chaos.  chaos is like a dog in that if you show fear it will bite, but if you let it know who's master it will yield, to an extent.  

the eyebrarian is cool, gerontius tried some sleight of hand and hide and seek, and he was found, that's no small task for most people.


----------



## the Jester

Umm...



			
				hippiejedi2 said:
			
		

> do you remember what your chaos gift was brain, or was it not immediatly obvious.






			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> So he touches the obelisk, getting his first taste of Chaos in the form of extremely bad body odor.


----------



## hippiejedi2

yeah i went back and reread it, i thought it was veil who smelled bad. oops, i also edited the post almost immediatly after writing it. but not fast enough


----------



## the Jester

So I thought it would be fun to post the names of the books on the shelf (each pc gets to read one of them if they successfully defend the Eyebrary).  The pcs were allowed to look at the titles of the books before accepting the mission. 

_Techniques of the Master Warrior
Spells of the Planes
Sneaky Jim's Guidebook
The 20 Forms of the Sword
The Apocrypha
The Druid's Almanac
A Thousand Laughs, A Thousand Tears
Inner Mastery
Pressure Points, Nerve Clusters and Pincer Grips
Insight into the Universal Constants
Techniques for Building a Hardier Self
One Million Tales
Convoluted Mathematical Constructions for the Master
Hidden Arcana
Epic Rituals
Lethal Blows
Learning to Live with Misfortune
Sad Songs & Dirges
The Arcanist's Guide to Ultimate Power
Benlo's Swift Feet and Swifter Mind
Psychic Meditations for the Growing Mind
Amazing Rage
Insight Into Politics
Hidden Truths about the Structure of the Ooze
Contact with the Beyond: Strengthening the Mind
Techniques of Automatic Writing
History of the Dwarves
Spiritual Excercises to Achieve Meditative Bliss
Victory to the Swift
Secrets of the Wee Folk
Techniques of Item Creation
Strike the Vitals!
Hidden Lore of the Elves
Why You Should Follow Bleak
Torrents fo Chaos
The Strictures of Law
The Grimoire of Danderoth
All You Need to Know
Mastery of the Elements
Walking Many Roads
The Great Songs
How to Meet People & Influence People_


The idea I had in mind was to make a treasure horde where everyone in the party could get something _great_, and they would all have to make tough choices about what to take.   I think I succeeded wildly with this. 

I mean, if you were any given member of the party, what would you take??


----------



## Dakkareth

Ooohh ... nice work. So hard choices ...


----------



## the Jester

*Preemptive Strike*

Before I begin, I’d like to lay down a list of the buffs Orbius laid on everyone before they made the strike.  He has a metamagic feat, Mass Spell, that lets him get multiple targets with a spell that normally effects only one creature, and another, Bestow Spell, that lets him cast a spell with Personal range as a touch spell.  That said, he cast mass and/or bestowed versions of:

_Stoneskin, elasticity, darkvision, mirror image, far strike, fly, haste_ and _fire shield_ (vs. cold).

_Everyone in the party_ had all those effects.

_*9/25/370 O.L.G., 6 p.m., the base of the strike force of Law in Sigil*_

The gigantic four-armed blue-skinned creature is run through with circuitry.  It has very powerful weapons mounted in its flesh; specialized tubing runs through it like a new network of veins, allowing drugs to pump where they are needed when they are needed to properly enhance all of its functions- or to suppress pesky emotions like boredom.

It has not moved in four days.

But now, the functions it has that remain active flare into alertness.  It detects a ripple as a group of ultra-powerful adventurers appears from nowhere, leaping to the attack.

“ALERT! ALERT! ALERT!” the clockwork servitor clangors.

Too late.

Orbius casts _time stop,_ and then, letting out a breath when none of the enemies can move in it (that slaad shook him up), he casts a _prismatic sphere._  Then he takes a deep breath.  _Devils _and_ a solar.  This isn’t going to be pretty, no matter what._

Time flows.  Sybele snaps an _arrow of Graz’zt_ at the servitor, but it deflects off the metal encysting it.  “What is that thing, smart wizard guy?” she cries, unable to recall Orbius’ name for the life of her.

“Stop!” cries a voice like the Heavens themselves.  Zuzuvel, Solar of Galador, strides forward and invokes a _mass charm_- but to his distress, none of our heroes succumb!  Worse yet, another angel- albeit only a planetar- is striding right behind him.  Their golden skin, radiant hair and blazing auras make them look perfect.  Our heroes know that they are perfectly dangerous.

Then the battle is a confused mess as our heroes wade into the servants of Law and vice-versa.  Devils and a solar, inevitables and the clockwork servitor, as well as a cadre of elite Forinthian knights- our heroes face formidable opposition!

Lillamere brings down a _crushing fist of spite_ on the clockwork servitor, smashing him with a terrific blow.  He turns and tries to bring down another on Zuzuvel.

“Fool!” the solar cries, as the fist is splashes harmlessly from him like water.  “Your foul sorcery will not harm me!  The Light is on my side!”  He gestures, and a _dimensional anchor_ takes hold on Lillamere.  

Inoke _psionic lion’s charges_ the planetar, and in a flurry of deadly blows he drops the celestial!  Though the angel is regenerating, Inoke knows he must deal with the adversaries that are standing first.  Then the clockwork servitor launches two deadly, spikey nodules at Inoke.  The burly fighter dodges aside, but the nodules explode, damageing Lillamere and Sybele as well as their original target.  Spells blast back forth; Orbius _dimensionally anchors_ Zuzuvel, while one of the huge inevitables fires out a _chain lightning_ that catches half the party and the ice devils keep firing off _cones of cold_.  Then one of the other inevitables invokes _forecage_ around Lillamere and Inoke, but it only lasts long enough for the sorcerer to cast a _distintegrate._  Then he almost wishes he hadn’t, the solar invokes a _firestorm_ that hits all of our heroes with blazing intensity.  A few of them throw it off thanks to the _holy aura_ that flickers around all of them, but most of them suffer some serious burns.

The battle is fast and furious.  In only seconds the knights fall to Inoke’s brutal club.  He seems to be everywhere, and thanks to his _elasticity_ he can attack almost anyone who moves.  Further, he is showing new ferocity at harrying spellcasters, and has already interfered with several attempts by the ice devils to use their blasted cold powers.  Sybele lands shaft after shaft in the clockwork servitor’s body, and the thing roars and slowly topples over onto the ground.  But it is regenerating, just like the solar!  Another knight is slain, bursting into dust as Lillamere _disintegrates_ it.  

The inevitables are still fighting, dueling first with Lester and then Horbin.  Spells and effects ripple back and forth with incredible speed, but it is clear which way this battle has turned.  Zuzuvel the solar steps up to Inoke, but he is unfortunately dissuaded from attacking by an extreme amount of Inoke’s club.  He staggers back into Orbius’ _prismatic sphere,_ and collapses within it!  The other angel, meanwhile, is unconsciously enjoying being pummeled by the _crushing fist of spite_ that Lillamere has directed to it. 

Finally, the last of the inevitables fall.  Our heroes are wounded and battered, but everyone is alive.  Quickly, they loot, then they hesitate.  Both the clockwork servitor and the solar in the flickering _prismatic sphere_ are still regenerating.  

Orbius says, “Well, I tried this in the battle, but it failed.  Maybe it will work now.”  He casts _Marius’ deconstruction_ on the servitor, and the metal girding it falls away.  

“In that case,” Horbin muses, “I’m going to bring it around.  Be ready, in case it’s hostile, but I want to at least give it a chance.”  He casts a _heal_ on the strange four-armed giant.  It is all blue and covered in strange extrusions.

The thing’s eyes open.  It rumbles in surprise.  “FREE!  I CAN NO LONGER FEEL THOSE METALS IN ME!” it booms.  “THANK YOU.  BUT WHERE AM I?”

“You’re in Sigil,” Horbin says.  “You’re free to go.  Do your people dwell here at all?”

“IN...?”  The weird monster looks about it, horror falling over its craggy features.  “AH, NO!”  It rushes over and crashes through the door, shattering it.

”Hey, easy there, what’s wrong?” asks Sybele.

“AAARGH!  BUILDINGS EVERYWHERE!  I HATE BUILDINGS!!”  The strange creature howls at the grey surrounding.  “WHY MUST THERE BE BUILDINGS?  WHY A CITY?  AAARGH!!!”  It begins to run off.

“Uh, see ya,” Sybele calls after it, bemused.  

“I hope that thing isn’t some kind of menace,” comments Horbin.

The group goes back inside to deal with the solar... only to find that he’s gone.

“Crap,” mutters Lillamere.  “That means that this isn’t over yet.”

_*Next Time:*_ All right, the party stood up to a pretty fierce group of enemies there.  How about _three solars?_  How about that, huh?  Yeah, that’s what I thought!


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Angels and Devils fighting TOGETHER!  My poor little archetypes of Good and Evil are permenantly demolished.  Screw it, time to retire . . . 

P.S.:  Lester always sheds a tear when he kills another angel.  Stupid War of Ethics!


----------



## Brain

the Jester said:
			
		

> “AAARGH!  BUILDINGS EVERYWHERE!  I HATE BUILDINGS!!”  The strange creature howls at the grey surrounding.  “WHY MUST THERE BE BUILDINGS?  WHY A CITY?  AAARGH!!!”  It begins to run off.
> 
> “Uh, see ya,” Sybele calls after it, bemused.
> 
> “I hope that thing isn’t some kind of menace,” comments Horbin.



I often wonder about what happened to that creature in Sigil... Maybe it'll show up behind the scenes in a future update?


----------



## the Jester

*Time for Reading*

A month passes in ten days.  A neat trick, that- the result of spending those ten days in what the Eyebrarian refers to as a Coilite plane.  Obviously, this has something to do with Coila, the implacable, relentless goddess of time.  

Whatever, our heroes are just glad they can read some of those books.

Their divinations- especially Orbius’ and the Eyebrarian’s- have revealed that they have enough time to pull this off before Zuzuvel returns again, and the Eyebrarian has assured our heroes that if another attack occurs before then he will have sufficient warning to alert and summon them.  He warned them to be ready to spring into action at any moment.  Curiously, the divinations could not reveal when the solar would make his next attack; but they indicated a ‘safe’ period in the immediate future.  Still, solars are dangerous and wily.  Thus, for the month (subjectively) that they spend in the Coilite plane, the group keeps their spells allotted for battle, just in case.  But it proves unnecessary; no attack comes while they read the tomes the Eyebrarian has given them. 

Inoke reads _Techniques of the Master Warrior_.  (This gives him a level in any full-BAB class- he chose warmind, iirc.)
After a long struggle during which he almost decides to take _Why You Should Worship Bleak_ in order to destroy it, Horbin instead reads _the Apocrypha._  (This gives him a cleric level.)
Lester reads _Techniques for Building a Hardier Self._ (+5 inherent bonus to con.)
Orbius reads _the Arcanist’s Guide to Ultimate Power._ (+1 level for any arcane casting class- iirc, loremaster is what he chose.)
Sybele reads _Psychic Meditations for the Growing Mind._ (This raised her psion level by one.)
Gerontius reads _Strike the Vitals!_  (This added +1d6 to his sneak attack and allows him to reroll his sneak attack damage 1/day.)
Lillamere reads _Hidden Lore of the Elves._  (Gives a level to any elf that reads it.)
Jezebel reads _How to Meet People & Influence People._ (+5 inherent cha bonus.)

All of our heroes are pleased with their choice.  All of them grow stronger, more puissant, as they learn techniques and excercises appropriate to their nature.

They’ll need it.

***

_*10/12/370 O.L.G., 11 a.m, the Library of Boccob, Sigil*_

Horbin sighs.  “I can’t fight him.  He’s a solar of Galador.  I need to stop him without fighting him.”

“Do you think he’ll listen to reason?” queries Lillamere.  

Horbin heaves another sigh.  “I don’t know.  He was consorting with devils!  Surely Galador doesn’t countenance that.  He might even be fallen, or something.  More likely, he’s doing what he thinks is right.  Either way, I have to try.  I can’t fight agents of the Light.”  He contemplates for a moment, then casts a _sending_ to Zuzuvel the solar:  _Leave the books alone, do not consort with devils, knowledge is sacred._

The angel’s response is not promising. _In the name of Galador, stand aside._

Dismayed, Horbin mulls this over for a few minutes, debating how to respond.  If the solar truly is an agent of Galador, he is on very dangerous grounds opposing the angel at all.  So he casts another _sending_ to him, hoping for some accomodation.

_In the name of Dexter, do not force me to step aside.  Meet with me, face to face, peaceably, at least once._

This time the response is a less terse but no friendlier.  _I am on a mission from God.  Stand aside or face the wrath of Heaven._

Horbin struggles with his moral quandry all day.  However, at 5 pm, when he regains his spells, he issues a third _sending_ to the solar: _I too am on a mission from God, meet with me once peacefully in the name of Galador the father and Dexter the son._

This time Horbin is heartened by Zuzuvel’s response.  _Send to me from the shores of Heaven and I will meet you._

“I wish I knew how Dexter feels about all this,” declares Horbin. 

“Why don’t you ask him?” suggests Lillamere, and bemused, Horbin casts _commune._

_Must I rescind my protection from the library?_ *No.*
_Might I be able to verbally dissuade the solar from attacking?_ *Perhaps.*
_Can I say that the library is under the protection of Dexter?_ *Yes.*
_Will the Father protect his Son and his Son’s interestes?_ *From His perspective.*
_Is Law the primary master of this solar?_ *No.*
_Could Dexter intercede on behalf of the library to Galador?_ *No.*
_Is there something other than the books that the solar wants in the Library of Boccob right now?_ *Yes.*
_Can we provide it for him?_ *Yes.*

Horbin mulls for a time, letting the presence of the divine recede from him.  _It’s probably us,_ he realizes.  _He probably wants righteous vengeance on us for destroying his team._  He considers the spells he has prepared and silently thanks Dexter that he is packing a _gate._ 

Horbin turns to the others.  “I’m going to Heaven to talk to the solar.  To try to talk sense to the solar.  This is going to be a peaceful mission, _no fighting or aggression._  Does anyone want to come with me?”  There is a general chorus of agreement.

“Wait, you’re going to Heaven to meet the solar?  Isn’t that his home ground?” Gerontius points out.  “Sounds like a good place for an ambush or a trap.”

”It’s going to be a peaceful meeting,” Horbin insists.  “He wouldn’t lie to me.”

“All right,” Gerontius replies, amused.  “If you say so.”

The party heads to a portal to Heaven.

_*Next Time:*_ Can Horbin talk sense to a solar?  Will Gerontius prove right that it’s a trap?  Find out soon!


----------



## Knightfall

the Jester said:
			
		

> “Wait, you’re going to Heaven to meet the solar?  Isn’t that his home ground?” Gerontius points out.  “Sounds like a good place for an ambush or a trap.”
> 
> ”It’s going to be a peaceful meeting,” Horbin insists.  “He wouldn’t lie to me.”
> 
> “All right,” Gerontius replies, amused.  “If you say so.”
> 
> The party clusters around Horbin and he opens a _gate_ to Heaven.




Hmm, this is an interesting situation for Horbin. Did the solar lie to him? Horbin thinks not, but what is a lie, really? If the solar believes that he is doing the will of Galador then who is to say what he will or won't do. Galador is a god, angels bring about the will of God.

Can a servant of god lie to someone who he thinks has fallen from the Light, as the voice of God, and still remain true to Galador. Does it even matter if Galador wills. One being's lie is another being's ultimate truth.



KF72


----------



## the Jester

The shores of the Sea of Heaven are almost radiant with silvery sand.  The deep blue of the sky is pierced by a million motes of light, blazing in the firmament as if they were beckoning for all the good souls to ascend upon death.  The sea is composed of holy water.  No treachery will stand here.  No evil may be done without inviting retribution on a celestial level.

From these sacred shores, Horbin the MFKG Holy issues a _sending_ to Zuzuvel the solar, inviting him to treat.  Less than a minute later, Zuzuvel appears, _greater teleporting_ in- accompanied by a pair of other angels.  Horbin’s blood chills; he recognizes both of them as solars.

The angels warily regard our heroes.  In other circumstances, they could be allies.  But now, with the Eyebrary and the books of Boccob at stake, our heroes know they may well end up fighting to the death with the solars.  The prospect does not thrill them- especially Horbin.  _These angels serve Galador, the father of my God,_ the cleric grimly reminds himself.  _I must persuade them to turn from the course they are on!_ 

After a moment pregnant with silence, Horbin says, “Thank you for coming to talk peacefully to us.”

Zuzuvel’s face is severe.  He nods once.  “And now you must stand aside, Horbin.  Do not oppose us.  We do the work of Galador.”

“You were doing the work devils,” Horbin counters.  “Fiends of all kinds, especially devils, are notoriously tricky.  I believe you may have been duped.”

“No, Horbin,” the angel answers.  “All things, even devils, do the work of the Light in their own way.  Sometimes Galador’s hand moves in ways you cannot comprehend, but it moves nonetheless.  The devils follow _our_ course.”

“Nonetheless, you are attacking a place that has not harmed you or worked any ill against you.”

“Yet its master works strenuously against Galador.  There is _war,_ Horbin, of cosmic proportions.  Have you forgotten?”

“Of course not!  But the library is under my protection, and that of my friends.  We work for the greater good, and this Great War of Ethics only causes suffering and pain.  How many people have to die for an abstraction they don’t care about?”

“Is the fate of one’s immortal soul really so abstract, when we stand upon the shores of Heaven itself?”

Horbin heaves a frustrated sigh.  “The Library of Boccob is under my protection, and that of Dexter, the Son of the Light.  As such, you may not attack it.”

“Dexter is _not_ Galador.”

“Nonetheless, He is Galador’s _divine son._”

“Sometimes,” Zuzuvel retorts, “children need a spanking.”

“You are losing sight of Good for the sake of Law!”

“Will you stand aside, Horbin?” Zuzuvel demands.

“No,” the cleric answers firmly.

“Then I regret that we will may have to fight.”

“If we cannot talk sense to them,” says one of other solars from behind Zuzuvel- Horbin recognizes him as Molothon- “then let us go.”  Zuzuvel nods.

“Don’t make us fight you,” Horbin begs.

Without another word, the solars vanish.

“Let’s go,” Lillamere says.  “Quick!”

Seethe nods.  “They will be attacking any second.”

_*Next Time:*_ Against the solars!!


----------



## Greybar

And now the terrible question - if I just wait with my browser hitting refresh, will I see the next episode soon?

Fully prepped solars, attacking on their initiative instead of being jumped, plus the likely goodness of modification or levels that The Jester will bring... very painful sounding.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Thank you, Horbin, for actually talking some sense to these blockheads.  Looks like these days you have to choose either Ethics or Morality, not both.  Man, for having such a high stat sheet (Jester keeps Galador's character sheet posted on his wall), Galador is an IDIOT!  He would rather have a fractured church, dealings with Devils, and cause suffering rather than improve the lives of his followers.

Again, Lester's had enough . . . time to retire to Sigil.  Hey, will the Defenders of DayBreak being hangin' there?


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Man, for having such a high stat sheet (Jester keeps Galador's character sheet posted on his wall), Galador is an IDIOT!  He would rather have a fractured church, dealings with Devils, and cause suffering rather than improve the lives of his followers.




Hmm, don't recall ever having Him say that, nor has anyone actually asked Him that I can recall.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Yeah, haven't asked, but all of his servants don't appear concern about anything other than the War of Ethics.  Even if we were to help Prayzose reunite the church, we still wouldn't see an end to the War of Ethics.

In the words of pop icons Milli Vanilli - "Girl, you know its true."

So, how much for a 3 bedroom, 1 1/2 bath loft in Sigil?


----------



## omrob

*The 2nd retirement of Lester?*

OH noes? !! 

Cmon - therez so much chaos left to spread...

You gonna move back to the warforged guy ?


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Nosotros neccisitamos un "update", por favor!

Omrob,

Any retirement will by Michael Jordan/Jay-Zesque for Lester, but I feel compelled to say it whenever we see the "Good" guys in bed with the "Bad" guys, getting all hot and steamy over abstract ethical principals.


----------



## the Jester

(A very short update, ending on a dramatic moment.)

A _greater teleport_ back to the portal, then through it and back to Sigil; then another _teleport_ to the Eyebrary (as our heroes have taken to calling the Library of Boccob).  

Just in time.

The battle of three solars begins.

Horbin is torn.  He cannot believe he is being tested this way.

He will not strike an angel of Galador.  He _will not._

Gerontius squares off against Zuzuvel, his blades flashing as he strikes over and over again, hitting _six times_ before the angel can even move, breaking six of his ribs, knocking out a few teeth.  The little blue halfling is a blur!  Reeling back, the great angel grits his teeth and utters a _dictum._  Gerontius reels back himself, his ears throbbing.  _Can’t hear,_ he thinks, trying to clear his head.  Seethe is entirely paralyzed and unable to even move.  Then Inoke, having _expanded_ to large size, swings several times, pummeling the mighty Zuzuvel down to the ground unconscious!  He is healing quickly, but for the nonce he’s out of the fight.  

The archangel Molothon, second of the three solars, gestures and _waves of exhaustion_ roll out from him.  Our heroes gasp as all of them are caught in the spell and it siphons their vitality and energy.  Lillamere makes a chopping motion with his hand and utters a few arcane phrases, and suddenly a_ crushing fist of spite_ smashes down at Molothon.

“Quickly, brothers!” exclaims the third solar, Gelthanathese.  “We must defeat them!”  He casts a _mass heal,_ and Zuzuvel rises and attempts to lay Gerontius low with a _destruction._  The halfling staggers and cries out, but survives.  Meanwhile, Horbin has created a _prismatic sphere_ to shield himself, the paralyzed Seethe and Lillamere.  Just in time!  A _prismatic spray_ lances over the battlefield from the third solar.  

Inoke bull rushes Molothon into Gelthanathese, and both of them smash to the ground like bowling pins!*  They rise again soon enough, but it slows them down some.  

The battle turns ugly as Molothon strikes at _Deadly Avalanche,_ trying to sunder Inoke’s greatclub!  The warmind cries out in dismay.  “Hey, that’s not cool!”  He strikes a defensive pose and loudly calls, “We don’t have to fight!  We don’t have to slay you!  Don’t make us!”  He spies Zuzuvel moving in on his other flank and smacks him down again.

Molothon sneers, striking again and again at the greatclub with his sword, and before Inoke can shift to an offensive stance again, Deadly Avalanche shatters!  “NO!” Inoke screams.

Behind him, Gelthanathese _heals_ Zuzuvel, who shoots to his feet and moves in on Inoke, swinging his mace.

_*Next Time:*_ What will Inoke do for a weapon??

*Domino Rush- one of the maneuvers granted by Inoke’s tactical combat feat.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Yikes!  Deadly Avalanche destroyed?  That's rough.

But it is nice to see NPCs use PC style tactics; sunderings, mass healing, etc..  It makes you wonder if the PCs will win.  Of course, if they are fighting the powers of Good, winning is almost as bad as losing.

Good update.


----------



## hippiejedi2

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> Yikes! Deadly Avalanche destroyed? That's rough.
> 
> But it is nice to see NPCs use PC style tactics; sunderings, mass healing, etc.. It makes you wonder if the PCs will win. Of course, if they are fighting the powers of Good, winning is almost as bad as losing.
> 
> Good update.



The powers of Good is only a front for the powers of Law. Stupid misguided solars, but we know the way of good.


----------



## the Jester

The update I will shortly be posting is half written by Brain, just for the record.


----------



## Brain

Ah, should be a big one then.  A very pivotal time in Inoke's life, coming up shortly.  I felt the need to write about his experiences shortly after.  I'm looking forward to seeing how it fits in with what the Jester writes.


----------



## the Jester

Gerontius dodges as flashing ribbons of color shoot out from one of the solars, but even as fast as he is, he is too slow.  A beam zips through him and he gasps, and suddenly he’s been turned to stone.  Inoke stands, gaping at the stub of his magical club clutched in his hand.  Horbin, safe within the _prismatic sphere,_ bites his lip.  He cannot strike out against angels of Galador- he _cannot!_

Lillamere _shape changes_ into a phase spider and dances away from the conflict, trying to get enough distance to do something without getting pounded.  His _crushing fist of spite_ is aggravating the solars, but it isn’t nearly enough... and it vanishes as Gelthanathese _greater dispels_ it.  

Horbin steps from his sphere and casts a _mass heal._  “Please, stop this!”

Inoke casts aside the stub.  Beneath his cat-helm, his face contorts in sorrow.  _Deadly Avalanche_ is no more.  “Fine!” he roars.  “You destroy my weapon- I will take yours!”  With a bellow he rushes in at Zuzuvel, groping for his mace!*  The solar sneers and lands a tremendous blow on Inoke’s head, his mace ringing on the metal of the cat-helm.  Inoke shakes his head- and keeps groping for the mace.  He wraps his powerful left hand around Zuzuvel’s right wrist, capturing his arm, and though the solar punches him in the throat he manages to get his right hand on the mace’s haft.

Immediately he feels a draining sensation.**

Ignoring it, he wrestles with Zuzuvel, trying to pull the mace from him.  Finally he succeeds!  Then, to his shock, the mace itself speaks!

“How dare you!” it cries.  _”You are not worthy!”_

But for now he ignores its words and swings it to lay low the solar Zuzuvel!

“The _Mace of St. John!”_ cries Molothon.  _”How dare you!!”_  He launches himself forward, slashing at Inoke to staggering effect.***  The two begin a deadly duel.  Horbin, meanwhile, has turned to Gerontius’ stoney form and cast a _miracle_ to restore him to flesh!  The halfling tumbles in, flanking with Inoke, and his daggers return to work, striking as precisely as a surgeon.


Lillamere, meanwhile, is trying to _disintegrate_ solars left and right, but so far he hasn’t had much luck.  He’s been considering his best bet on a good form to assume against the solars, and now he _shape changes_ into a pit fiend.  The solars shoot him furious glares.  “You don’t like that, boys?” he taunts.  “How about this?”  He transforms again, this time into a titan- and joins the melee!

Gritting his teeth, Molothon- battered and flanked- pronounces a word of power, and Inoke goes blind.  He gives out a harsh laugh in reply, using his _synesthete_ power to overcome the difficulty instantly.  Then he unleashes a deadly sweeping strike as Gelthanathese moves up, pounding both solars with the _Mace of St. John._

Horbin just keeps healing.  He weeps that things have come to this.  He will not raise arms against the solars, but he will not forsake his friends either.

Gelthanathese, his frown dire as he watches Molothon teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, touches Inoke.  The ground beneath the man cracks and opens up, and with a loud shout of dismay, the human- and _St. John’s Mace_- is dragged deep below the surface and _imprisoned._

“Uh-oh,” Gerontius says, then laughs as he bluffs and stabs, bluffs and stabs.  He twirls in and out, feinting and striking, looking like a dancer.  Lillamere shifts from shape to shape, now turning into a black pudding to try to do to the solars’ weapons what Molothon did to Inoke’s mace.  Together, they are wearing down the solars, and no matter how they try, the solars can’t overcome Horbin’s consistent _mass heals_.  Of course, he can’t keep those up forever, either; and that becomes apparent as he switches to _mass cure critical wounds._ 

Finally Gerontius lands another blow on Molothon’s vitals, and the solar gasps and collapses.  Then, even while he dodges an attempt at _imprisonment,_ Lillamere morphs into a pit fiend to continue his fight and keeps Gelthanathese distracted long enough for Gerontius to slit his throat from behind.  Then, to stop the regeneration issue, Lillamere coup de graces them all.****

Horbin turns away.

***

_10/12/370 O.L.G., 2 p.m, the Halls of Healing, Var_[/b]

As the party regroups and rests at the halls of healing in Var, Inoke’s mind is racing with the possibilities now laid before him.  He recalls the words of the mace well, they burn in his mind.  *“You are not worthy.”*  He had used the weapon after taking it from Zuzuvel, and although it suppressed his might slightly, it was the finest weapon he had ever laid hands upon, bristling with magical energy and holy power.  

It was time for some serious thought on the topic.  He manifested _Schism,_ and began discussing things with himself, keeping separate viewpoints and not playing favorites.  After a short time, it became clear that many things were contributing to his thoughts.  

He thinks of Hobbes the Tabaxi and the Fruit of Heaven. He contemplates his treatment  during his stint in the Forinthian Navy.  He considers his Warmind training and the amount of discipline it requires.  He smiles when thinking of the good he could do by bringing the orcs back into the light, and how perfect he is for the job.  He has learned first hand from Horbin the MFKG Holy that the powers of light are very strong and worthy.  He uncovers within himself a deeper desire to belong, to champion something, to be important.

Meanwhile, his other mind is thinking more negative thoughts, about his “gift” from chaos that made him stinky, how his friend Vail seems addicted to it and is always touching the obelisk.  He reminds himself of the rush of strength and power that his barbarian roots provide, and how it is good to be free and have no one to answer to.  He thinks of his friends and how they are fighting mostly on the side of Chaos.  He thinks about how he just fought three Solars and remembers their words.  *“How dare you!”* 

Then, something deeper in his soul stirs and he comes to a realization.  _It was meant to be.  How else can one explain what happened?  Molothon destroying my _Deadly Avalanche_ and then me actually being able to take the _Mace of Saint John_ away from Zuzuvel the Solar? My mind is spoken for, but my soul is not.  I must serve Galador and wield this mace and prove my worth._

He had done a remarkable amount of thinking in a very short amount of time, and he found himself excusing himself from the room to go talk to the mace in private.  He quickly hashed out a deal with it whereby he would attempt to prove his worth by changing his ways and correcting the ways of the orcs and half-orcs in question.  He went to a church of Galador shortly after, and donated some money for a nice sturdy holy symbol that he could wear in battle.  The path ahead would be difficult, but he loved a good challenge.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes are assassinated!

*One of Inoke’s feats can be used only with certain weapons, one of which is the greatclub.  Since his club just got smashed, he went for a heavy mace, which still allows the feat to be used.  This led to all sorts of interesting repercussions.

**This is because the mace was LG and he was not.  Have a negative level, baby.

***147 hp of damage in one round.

****As a pit fiend, he could deal real damage to them; it was almost the only way that the party could finish the solars off.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Nicely done, Jester.  I enjoyed the update and its always great to read up on what you missed during a nonpresent game for your PC.  How was Inoeke freed from that Imprisonment?  Does Horibn have access to Freedom?

-AoA


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Nicely done, Jester.  I enjoyed the update and its always great to read up on what you missed during a nonpresent game for your PC.  How was Inoeke freed from that Imprisonment?  Does Horibn have access to Freedom?
> 
> -AoA




Oops, left that out.  IIRC, they got a scroll and Lillamere used it.


----------



## Brain

Also, wasn't Horbin using a special spell granted by Dexter to totally ignore the Solars?  I forget what it is called, but they weren't present to him.  He just saw us getting hurt and would heal us.  Disbelief or something?

Also, our next agenda was to be investigating some Orcs and Half-Orcs on Valonia who were reported to be fighting with some Halflings over there.  Gerontius requested the group's help and we agreed.  Inoke got the idea to help the Orcs back into the Light as part of his attempt to prove himself worthy to the mace.   That's what the orc references are about in my half of the story.  

More interesting stuff coming soon in the next update.


----------



## the Jester

*Our Heroes Are Assassinated*

_*10/24/370 O.L.G., 11:30 a.m., the streets of Var*_

Veil and Lillamere are walking towards the shrine of Na’Rat when the first assassination happens.  

The sorcerer is earnestly trying to get Veil to see that touching the obelisk of Na’Rat- and thereby becoming further warped by Chaos- may not be such a good idea.  Even her time as an ooze has not persuaded Veil of the error of her ways, however, so she instead urges Lillamere to touch the obelisk himself.  They kid each other with in humor; and they are in the middle of the street in broad daylight when suddenly someone stabs Lillamere in the kidneys from behind.  A single swift blow and the sorcerer falls to the ground dead.

“Lillamere!” cries Veil.

The assassin, tall and thin, is strange looking.  Not human- its face is mostly a needled grin- it is grey through and through.  A long coat that almost reaches the ground trails around it. 

“Flee,” it hisses to Veil.

Instead she attacks, unlimbering her sword and aiming a vicious head cut at the assassin, but it seems to slide aside at the last moment and Veil’s blow misses. 

The assassin laughs harshly.  “Maybe next time it will be you.”  With that, it steps back into the shadow of a building nearby and vanishes.

Veil pops up her mindscan, looking for any sign of it, but to her dismay there is nothing.  She scoops up Lillamere’s body and hustles back to Horbin’s Halls of Healing.

***

_*5 p.m., the Halls of Healing*_

“AHHH!”  Lillamere sits up in shock, his hand swiftly rushing to his back where he was stabbed.  “What- where-“

“It’s okay,” Horbin soothes.  “I’ve _true resurrected_ you.”

_”What the hell happened?”_ Baron Lillamere exclaims.

Veil repeats the events of earlier in the day.  “What the hell was that thing?” she asks worriedly.  Nobody knows.

“Maybe I can check with Ten Buck Tom later,” muses Horbin.

***

_*5:30 p.m., Valonia*_

Gerontius has asked the party if they would be willing to help some of his folk, who, on the continent of Valonia, are being abused by orcs.  Valonian orcs are recognized almost as a civilized people, and they have thrown in their lot with the forces of Law in the Great War roiling Cydra.  (One way they have struggled to gain acceptance was to adopt the worship of Galador.)  It is the Valonian orcs who have developed the strange and deadly substance called sunpowder, with which they have constructed strange projectile hurling weapons.  Since the black cathedral beneath the Stinking Pit led, via one of its strange confessionals, to Valonia, a trip there would coincide with some of Horbin’s interests.  Our heroes thus arrive via a quick trip through the confessional, but to their surprise, the small church they arrive at is a burned-out shell!  It’s still hot, though there isn’t enough left to actually burn.

“What happened here?” wonders Horbin, his voice choking.

Outside the party finds several bodies, strung from a tree.  One of them is an orcish cleric of Galador. 

Our heroes solemnly decide to bury the bodies; it’s only right.  As they dig graves, the second assassination comes. 

Inoke has _expanded_ to make the digging easier.  He’s using a shield to dig with.  The _mace of St. John_, hanging at his belt, exhorts Horbin to perform the proper rites, as a good Galadorian should.  It talks an awful lot, and it has an ultra-fundamentalist Galadorian attitude and an opinion about everything.  Inoke has agreed to let it preach to him for an hour each day, and he invites the others to join him and the mace; but so far everyone else, even Horbin, merely finds it annoying.

Suddenly Inoke feels a cold sensation in his side, then in his other side, and he realizes that he’s bleeding.  He looks down in horror and realizes that he’s flanked by two grey-coated, big-grinned things- then he is dead.

“He’s back, and he brought a friend!” cries Veil.  She clambers over Inoke’s huge form and moves in to attack.

“Good,” Gerontius says enthusiastically.  “I was hoping I’d get to match blades against this thing!”  Then he sprinkles himself with some _dust of disappearance_ and vanishes from view.

“Oh crap!  This isn’t good!” Lillamere steps back and conjures up a _prismatic sphere._  “These are the guys that killed me?”

One of the grey things points a dagger at Horbin.  “You will be next,” it hisses, and steps into the shadows and vanishes.  Horbin fires with both barrels, casting both a quickened _flame strike_ and a _destruction_ at the other assassin before it can depart, but it survives.  It grins at Horbin, then turns its attention to the oncoming Veil and cuts her up badly.  She is surprised at the strength of the thing’s blows; a mere dagger, and she’s almost done for already!  Staggering, the mindspy moves away from the assassin, withdrawing carefully. 

Lillamere repeats, “This is not good!”  He fires a _puncture_ at the assassin but it jerks out of the way.  A volley of _seeker missiles_ fails to penetrate its spell resistance. Another _puncture,_ this one aimed perfectly, and again the thing manages to hurl itself aside!  The Baron curses long and loud.*

Gerontius engages his foe.  It seems to have no eyes, and therefore no trouble locating him, but he manages to bluff it and get past his guard with his sneaky strikes to its softer parts.  The two duel dagger to dagger for a few moments, until the assassin mutters, “Flee,” to Gerontius.

_”You_ flee,” the halfling answers cheerfully.  He’s keeping up a brave facade, but the assassin is whittling him down.  Still, he’s cut many ribbons across it as well.  Behind his smile his teeth grind together.  _Got to take him down!_ he thinks.  

But the assassin, smarting from his wounds, whispers, “Next time.”  Then he’s gone, fading into the shadows.  

***

_*The Plane of Shadow*_

The assassin arrives on the grey plane of Shadow, then groans and collapses.**

***

_*Valonia*_

In a flash the other assassin re-emerges.  “You killed my brother,” it hisses, slashing at Gerontius.  Fear takes hold of the halfling, and he flees away from the scene.  

“Hey!” cries Horbin, suddenly bleeding from multiple wounds as the assassin’s deadly knives turn on him.  He wavers on the edge of consciousness and just manages to invoke a _prismatic sphere_ before collapsing into an unmoving form at the center of the colorful ward.

“Oh crap,” says Lillamere, turning to follow Gerontius.  He _shape changes_ into a planetar and is off in pursuit. 

Behind him, the assassin grins at Horbin’s body in the sphere.

_*Next Time:*_ The resolution of this battle!  What will happen?  Find out next time!

*The ranged touch on that last _puncture_ was a natural 20.  We use exploding dice rather than alway-hit on 20- so he rolled another d20 and added it, etc.  He still missed.

**Gerontius’ new epic feat, Lingering Damage, comes into play!


----------



## Brain

As an aside, these last two updates were from the same session.   I spent a good majority of the time either Imprisoned or Dead, but I found myself grinning and feeling happy.  It was kind of odd, but cool.


----------



## the Jester

Brain said:
			
		

> As an aside, these last two updates were from the same session.   I spent a good majority of the time either Imprisoned or Dead...





...or talking to a stick. 

Seriously, glad you had fun despite being out of the fight a lot!


----------



## Dakkareth

Woah, those assassins sure look nasty ...


----------



## the Jester

Lillamere can’t even _find_ his halfling ally.  Gripped by magical _fear,_ Gerontius is hiding somewhere, and the frustrated Baron of House Drelvin can’t search him out.  _At least the assassin isn’t following me,_ he thinks, then immediately wonders, _Then what _is_ he doing?_

With a dismal curse, Lillamere thinks, _Horbin.  He’s going to kill Horbin next!  And I can’t stop him alone- my only hope is to go in there, grab Horbin and _greater teleport_ away!_  The elf takes a deep breath.

He _greater teleports_ to Horbin’s side, inside the _prismatic sphere._

The assassin is somehow already in there.  It hisses, “Where did _you_ come from?  I’ve already accomplished the mission.  Come help me take him.”

_He doesn’t realize that it’s me,_ Lillamere realizes.  _He thinks I’m a real planetar!  And that I’m here to aid him!_  The implications are mind-boggling.  Are these assassins agents of Law?  Who sent them?  Why?  _Time to think about that later,_ the sorcerer tells himself firmly.

“No, this way,” he says, and grabs Horbin and _greater teleports_ him away.  The look of astonishment on the assassin’s face is the most rewarding thing that Lillamere has seen all day.  As he arrives on the streets of Brelana, Horbin in tow, Lillamere heaves a sigh of relief.

Then he receives a sending. 

_You may have tricked my servant once, but never again._

“Who’s after us now?” he mutters, rubbing his smooth chin.

***

_*6 p.m., the Halls of Healing, Var*_

After Horbin heals himself and Lillamere, the two of them enhance themselves as best they can with their formidable magical abilities, then return to Valonia, from whence they retrieve their friends, dead or alive.  “I’ll bring Inoke back tomorrow,” Horbin sighs.  “Those guys were tough.”

Sybele nods.  “They sure were, cleric guy!”

The party is a little nervous about Inoke’s newfound Galadorianism, so while he’s dead they have a talk with the mace.  Sybele exhorts it to serve the force of Good rather than Law, and the mace retorts that it serves the Light, which epitomizes both Law and Good.  There is some debate about that, especially in regards to the current Great War of Ethics.  Lillamere continuously refers to the mace as ‘Stick’.  It doesn’t really like that, which is Lillamere’s point.

Gerontius, meanwhile, hears a voice in his head again: _Come to the lake, fool!  I’ll kill you!_

Horbin _communes,_ hoping to find out more about the assassins who have struck down several of his friends.

_Were those assassins sent by the forces of Law?_ (Hesitation) *Yes.*
_Are they from a guild in Cydra?_ *Yes.[/i]
On Dorhaus? Yes.
In Thule? Yes.
Are they from the Grey Brotherhood? Yes.
Think they could be bargained with? Unlikely.
Is the guild known to King Malford? Yes.
Would he know where they are? No.
Has he met their current leader? No.
Is anyone of extremely high power currently within the Grey Brotherhood? Yes.
Do the assassins who have been striking at us have a blink effect on when they attack us? No.
Do they have displacing effects? No.
Can they be fully damaged by normal piercing weapons? No.
Will adamantine penetrate their resistance to damage? No.
How about silver? No.
Weak magical enhancements? No.
Strong magical enhancements? No.
Epic or legendary magical enhancements, then? Yes.
How about aligned weapons? No.
Did they come from Galador or the Light? No.
Does sunlight affect their abilities? No.
Does magical sunlight affect their abilities? No.
Is Gerontius insane or being contacted? Yes.
Is he being contacted by an enemy? Yes.

He reports back what he has learned.  Gerontius, especially, is pleased to learn that he is not going mad.  “I was afraid that the strain had snapped me,” he confides with a roguish grin.

Alcar elects to commune as well.  He has a few questions of his own, the most relevant revealing that not only is his old adversary E-Krektor still active, he’s involved with the forces of Law somehow.  The half-celestial frowns dourly.  He disapproves of mixing evil with good.  That leads to corruption.  That way lies a fall.  He sighs.  Too much of that lately as it is.

***

10/25/370 O.L.G., 5 p.m., 

Ironically, just before the ill-fated trip to Valonia, Inoke had requested that, were he to die, he be completely reborn.  Even before he opened his eyes, Inoke knew that they had honored his instructions to destroy his old body before true resurrecting him.  He felt new, invigorated, born again.  It was meant as an experiment to see if radiation damage was tied to the physical body, and apparently that much was true.  However, Inoke couldn’t help but see it as a sign of a divine plan.  Rebirth into the Light of Galador, onto his true path, into a new body.  

***

6 p.m., Hell

Well, then.  

The little mortals are a threat to him; they even survived the assault of the glooms.  No mortal has killed one of the glooms before, to the best of his knowledge.  (Well, except for Prayzose, and he hardly counts as a mortal anymore.)

Fine.  It’s time to take a little personal interest in the matter.

The decision on how to attack is easily made: from the depths of Hell, with magic that will reach across the gulf of dimensions and strike his target.  He will try that first.  If that does not rapidly produce fruitful results... the conjunction is coming before too long.  There are many opportunities there.  Oh yes.  Adversaries could be manipulated into opposing one another, into killing one another.  He smirks.  If it becomes necessary.  For now, though...

Asmodeus casts a spell of epic proportions, known to the few who have encountered it as scrystrike.

***

Above the plains of Dorhaus

The party is wind walking across the sky when Horbin convulses with sudden pain.  “Aghh!” he cries.  “What- what just happened?”  He quickly casts heal on himself and looks for any sign of adversaries.

Nothing.

Suddenly he gets a prickly feeling, as if he is being watched.  Then he convulses in terrible pain again.  “Arghh!  Ow, ow!  That hurt!”  He heals himself again.  “What the hell is going on?” he yells.

“What happened?” Orbius asks, and Horbin explains the strange effects he’s just experienced.  

Orbius looks grim.  “That sounds like a spell out of legend.  Only a consummate spellcaster could use it.  It’s called scrystrike, and the thought that someone is using that against us is frankly terrifying.”

“What does it do?”

“They can scry us out and deal tremendous damage through the scrying sensor,” Orbius graons, ”at any distance.”

Next Time: So now Asmodeus is gunning for our heroes pretty hard.  What they need next is a minor fey distraction, some more information magic and another attempt to safeguard the halflings of Valonia!

***

DM’s Notes: Just for the record, starting that game I often just kept a 30d6 dice box ready for use.   Yes, I’m a mean bastard.

Also, Brain wrote about a paragraph of the above.  It's from his earlier piece, but separate chronologically.  Just for the record. 

Scrystrike
Divination (Scrying)
Spellcraft DC: 86
Components: V, S
Casting Time: 1 minute
Range: Unlimited
Effect: Magical sensor
Duration: 20 minutes (D)
Saving Throw: See text
Spell Resistance: See text
To Develop: Seeds: destroy (DC 29), reveal (DC 19).  Factors: reaches across planes (+8), +15d6 damage (+30).
	This spell allows you to scry the target and inflict 30d6 hit points of damage to it.  You may only inflict damage to the target once during the duration.  Though there is no saving throw or SR against the scrying effect, there is a Fort save for half damage (and SR applies) against the destruction effect.  If a creature or object is destroyed by this spell, all that remains is a fine grey powder.*


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Ah, wonderful Scrystrike!  You really do need 400 + hps, like Lester, and a mega Fort save (again, like Lester), to walk away from the damage.  This spell, also know to the party as:

Far Zot (Orbius' scientific name for the Scrystrike phenomenon.)

aka

"WHAT THE F--- WAS THAT?"

aka

"Why is the party's Wizard/Rogue/Healer/Sorcerer laying on the ground in a small pile of ash?"

-AoA

P.S.:  Hey Jester, my story hour is up (Ardick Campaign).  You should drop by and say hi sometime.


----------



## hippiejedi2

While the bulk of the party feared the glooms, Gerontius had a fun time battling them. It provided the perfect opportunity to test his abilities against another dagger wielding warrior. 


In game when we get scry-striked etcetra we make the DM's name into a verb, so for the sake of consistency we'll call the scry-skriking of Horbin, Horbin getting Jestered.


That was a real heads up move by Lilemere transforming into a celestial and teleporting Horbin away and saving his life.


As promised I put a teaser saying Inoke figured out how to get rid of rads, it only took a true res


----------



## the Jester

hippiejedi2 said:
			
		

> In game when we get scry-striked etcetra we make the DM's name into a verb, so for the sake of consistency we'll call the scry-skriking of Horbin, Horbin getting Jestered.




Well, truthfully they call it getting Jamesed.     

Which has subsequently broadened in meaning to encompass anything that happens to ya that's really, really bad.


----------



## hippiejedi2

Didn't want to name names, I wanted to keep it nice and ambiguous/mysterious.  You know keepn it real.


----------



## the Jester

*Asmodeus is after us!*

_*10/26/370 O.L.G., 9:30 a.m., the plains of Wotan (now known as the Tiger Lands)*_

Our heroes clean up their campsite (at Seethe’s insistence) before resuming their _wind walk_ over the eastern section of Dorhaus on the way to Blendorag.  Why are they _wind walking_ rather than simple _greater teleporting?_  To get a look at the land.  Malford is at war with the Tiger Empress, after all, and he is at least nominally the king of our heroes.  Baron Lillamere certainly owes him alleigance, and the king has traveled with many of the party members before.  So our heroes decided that they’d have a quick look from above on the way.  Sure, the trip will be a couple of days instead of instantaneous, but what kind of life is it if you never see anything but where you’re going?  That’s the worst sort of tunnel vision.

Into the air again, then.  Our heroes fly northeast, passing over old Wotanian roads and spotting bits of ruins here and there.  Much of Dorhaus remains uninhabited by anyone; Horbin scowls, wondering why, with so much of the continent empty, there must be fighting over parts of it.

By late morning our heroes can see the Swamp of Lithos, and they skirt around it.  “What’s in there?” wonders Horbin.

“A dragon named Lithos dwelled in there once,” Lester answers.  “It hasn’t been seen in, like, centuries or maybe even almost a thousand years?  I don’t know, we might have killed it when we reclaimed Var; there was a dragon there.”  He frowns.  “I don’t know, though...”

Horbin’s face sets grimly.  _We’ve taken care of the pit fiend of Blendorag.  This dragon, if it yet lives, has to go on the list._

Half an hour later, as the group whips through the sky above the plains just west of the swamp, they spot a colorful pavillion below.  They circle, then descend, and find a group of fey hanging out.  Being friendly towards Lester from previous interactions with him, the fey invite our heroes to a party in a couple of days.  A fey party!  “We can’t miss that!” exclaims Lester.  The last fey party he went to had some really killer pipeweed at it. 

“Well, now we’re on a schedule,” Orbius remarks regretfully.  “We’d best take care of whatever we’re going to take care of before the party quickly.”

“Let’s go back to Valonia and aid my people,” Gerontius urges.

”And give those murdered Galadorians a proper burial!” exclaims the _Mace of St. John_ at Inoke’s belt. 

“Shut up, stick,” mutters Lillamere.

“What are we going to do about whoever is scrystriking us?” asks Horbin.

“First we need to find out what’s really happening and who is behind it,” Orbrius replies.

***

_*Noon, Valonia*_

_Greater teleporting_ to Valonia, our heroes warily finish burying the bodies.  While most of the more physical individuals dig, Orbius uses a pair of _contact other planes._  He first gets two questions from each of his companions.

_Who in the Grey Brotherhood should we contact to nullify the contract on the party?_ *Grandfather.*
_Will diplomacy or force work better?_ *Hard to say.*
_What’s the best way to get a favorable introduction to this Grandfather?_ *Contract.*
_Who’s the best person for us to talk to in order to get this contract?_ *Assassin.*
_When will these assaassins strike again against Horbin?_ *Morning.*
_Show me a picture of a place where the leaders of the orcws  attacking the halflings nearby are._  (Orbius sees an image of a military camp.)
_Who hired the Grey Brothers to come after us?_ *Asmodeus.*
_Whose army attacked the temple on Valonia whose priests we are currently burying?_ *None.*
_Who destroyed the temple?_ *Kryzzo.*
_Who is the voice in Gerontius’ head?_ *Luugi.*
_Show me a picture of the shore of the lake the voice urges Gerontius to go to._  (Orbius sees an image of a lakeshore.)
_Where is Kryzzo right now?_ *Shire Plouf.*
_What is the exact location of the orcish encampment?_ *Many.*
_Do we need to destroy the entire encampment you showed me in order to stop their assault on the halflings, or just the leadership?_ *Leadership.*
_What is the name of the head of this leadership?_ *Genereal Mandagore.*
_Will a super-quick strke attack do well for us against General Mandagore?_ *Yes.*
_Will the King of Faerie aid Alcar in his quest to retrieve his magical backpack?_ *Yes.*
_Will the faerie dragon in the Plaid Forest aid him?_ *Don’t know.*
_Show Orbius a picture of where we should go in order to pursue the individual who scrystruck us._  (Orbius sees an infernal burning land, the sky choked with smoke, with devils everywhere.  He winces.)
_Show me a picture of a place where an item that can prevent itself from being scrystruck is?_  (To his surprise, he sees an image of the burned out church they are in.)
_Show me a picture of where the assassins are striking at us from._  (He sees an image of a shadowy fortress.)
_What is our best defense against the assassins?_ *Alertness.*

He uses a _commune_ to verify his answers- only the location the assassins are striking from proves demonstrably false.  Then, soberly, he turns to the others.

”We are in _big trouble,”_ he pronounces.

***

_*2 p.m.*_


The party searched the burned out church thoroughly for any sign of the item that could block the scrystrike.  Eventually, they deduced that it must be the _Mace of St. John,_ which could not be scried out itself as it was a relic.*  Now, after considerable discussion, the party decides to go ahead with their strike on the Valonian orcs.  “We’re here,” Gerontius points out.  “We can’t do anything about the scrystrikes.  Let’s do something useful.”

The strike goes over well.  None of the orcish leaders even has a prayer against them, as the party _greater teleports_ into a meeting of senior officers, and a few mass destruction spells later the leadership is out of it.  Then a _fire storm_ Horbin invokes destroys a mass of oncoming troops, and in mere moments it’s over.  The party orders the orcs to flee back to their own lands, on pain of death, and takes three orcish pistoleers captive in the hopes King Malford can extract information about manufacturing the mysterious substance called _sunpowder_ that only the orcs of Valonia know how to create.

After turning the pistoleers over in faraway Var, the party rests in the Halls of Healing.  That night, Horbin tosses and turned, barely resisting a _nightmare_ sent his way by a deadly adversary.

Early the next morning, our heroes _greater teleport_ out of town to avoid civilian casualties in preparation for when the assassin- or assassins- attack(s).

Which is bound to be soon.

_*Next Time:*_ Assassin assault!


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Per the mass destruction spells in that game, Orbius whipped out the big guns and cast a Mass Stone to Flesh which disable nearly the entire Orchish party!


----------



## the Jester

*Many Assassins*

_*10/27/370 O.L.G., 10:30 a.m., the hills north of Var*_

“Some devoted take a day, month or even a year blindfolded, to mark their faith in Dexter, the Blind Son of Galador,” Horbin continues.  He’s describing some of the practices that the devotees of his faith use to connect with the divine.  And then the assassin is there, stepping from the shadows... tearing into Chakar over and over with unbelievable speed, quick as mercury.  This time, it is accompanied by four hounds of deepest shadow, which tear at Orbius, trying to drag him down!

But this is exactly what our heroes have been waiting for.

A blaze of light as bright as the sun bursts all around.  The assassin’s hounds bay in alarm, most of them blinded, but Gerontisu too loses his sight.  Horbin’s _sunburst_ works a little too well!

The Eye of Boccob responds first with a _lance of disruption_, which blasts the strange dogs back and destroys one of them outright.  A _chain lightning_ from Lester dances between the attackers, the main bolt wounding the assassin, as Lillamere launches a maximized _seeker missiles_ at the villain.  Then Chakar and Horbin rush in, crushing the dogs with fist and mace.  Inoke rushes forward at the assassin with a roar even as Lester’s _horrid wilting_ draws the moisture from it.  It staggers, then wilts the rest of the way under a barrage of attacks from the massive warmind.  Orbius finishes the last dog with a volley of _magic missiles_. 

“Got him,” breathes Lillamere.  

“Hey!  A little help here!” Gerontius exclaims.  “I’m blind!”

Horbin restores his sight in moments.  Meanwhile, Lillamere gingerly examines the wavy-bladed dagger.  Its very presence makes Inoke, Horbin and Orbius nervous.  Lillamere performs a _legend lore_ and gets a small bit of doggerel.

_Killer of man, dressed in black
Vicious smile, dagger in back
Hired to kill, wrapped in grey
Striking unseen, night or day
Man-killing knife
Ending his life!_

“Humph,” says Horbin.  “That’s not exactly an _identify_, is it?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” Orbius declares, and casts _perfect identify._  Then he whistles.  “That’s... an impressive weapon,” he tells the group.  “It’s a human-killer, and of epic potency- in the right hands.  Otherwise...”  He shrugs.  “It’s of moderate power.”

“Figures,” complains Gerontius.  “Still, the dagger is my weapon.  I wouldn’t mind keeping it.”  

Lester shrugs.  “Take it as your share, if you care.”

“Of course,” Gerontius answers quickly.  He’s only mildly disappointed. 

***

_*1:30 p.m., Var*_

It seems strange that the question of what to do with the afternoon can be of world-shaking importance, but there you have it.  There are a lot of things on the party’s to do list.  One of the most pressing is the protection of Brelana from the worm portal that must be somewhere nearby. 

”I can get us to it,” Orbius assures the party.  “We just have to be ready to close it off.”

“And to fight off whatever is guarding it,” adds Gerontius.

“How can you get us there?  Have you divined its location?” asks Sybele.

“No- I’ve acquired a new spell that will take me there.”  Orbius shows a rare grin.  “Even if I don’t know my destination’s location, _superior teleport_ will take us there.”

“Wow,” says Jezebel, impressed.  Orbius puffs up a little.

The spell takes the party to another underground area, this one near a great pool of seething lava.  Waves of heat emanate from it.  The writhing, churning, egg-like portal is above the lava.  Before our heroes can close on it and attempt to seal the gateway, a quartet of white slaadi engage them.  A furious battle breaks out, with Gerontius tumbling in to attempt to attack- and being counter-tumbled by one of the slaadi!*  Its great claw rends him, but then the slaad winces as Horbin hits it with a _lower resistance_ and a quickened _searing light._  Then the two groups are smashing together in a terribly violent melee, with Inoke _expanding_ to huge size and battering one of the slaadi down with a single charge!**

But most of the slaadi fade into _greater invisibility_ even as one of them spits a gob of raw Chaos at Baron Lillamere.  The elven sorcerer shrieks as it burns him.  “AGGHH!” he cries, writhing.  Gritting his teeth, he casts a _puncture_ at the one that spit at him- at this point, one of two visible slaadi.

The other one hits him with a _ruin._

This is the first time Lillamere has been the target of an epic spell that is meant to kill him.  And it is _almost_ the first time his _spell turning_ has come into play.  

With a sigh of relief, the noble elf sees the _ruin_ return to its sender, who croaks in pain as it blasts through him.  Lillamere grins at him and flies up into the air above the magma. 

Unforutnately, it’s right about that time when the magma starts to churn and spit, and suddenly a huge worm of red-hot molten rock rears up, glowing so brightly that it blinds Gerontius and Chakar!  Then it belches forth a slew of magmin!  Suddenly the situation has changed.  

Inoke bull rushes one of the invisible slaadi into one of its invisible fellows, knocking both of them down like ten pins.  Not for the first time he congratulates himself on his _steadfast perception._  Then he leans over and smacks the _Mace of St. John_ into the lava worm!  The mace flares as the hot rock instantly super-heats it, but Inoke’s _energy adaptation_ prevents it from suffering any damage.  The worm rears back and blasts out a chunky rain of molten rock at the warmind, who staggers back a pace.

”Miscreant!” cries the mace.

“Shut up, stick!” cries Lillamere from above.  He grits his teeth against the Chaos churning through his flesh.  He can see another weird slash of entropy eating at Gerontius now, too.

The party and the slaadi and their worm ally are exchaging heavy blows and magical assaults with remarkable speed.  Lillamere in particular hits the worm- and the lava- with maximized _cone of cold_ after maximized _cone of cold_.  Finally the lava freezes over, and the magmin have perished quickly; and the combined efforts of Veil, Chakar, Horbin, Gerontius and the huge Inoke manage to destroy the remaining slaadi.  Inoke’s incredible charges are so effective that they leave everyone else in awe: this fellow is a match for Thrush, if anyone they have ever met is. 

Afterward, Lillamere uses a _limited wish_ to ape a _seal portal,_ and then the party departs.  As they leave, Chakar wonders, _Is there anything to prevent the slaadi or their master from re-opening the gates?_

Nobody hears his unspoken question, so he shrugs inwardly.  What will come to pass, will come to pass.

***

_*3 p.m., Brelana*_

The day is not yet old.  Several more _greater teleports, plane shifts_ and _gates_ are available for travel.  Gerontius suggests another trip to Valonia, to search out this ‘Kryzzo’ who slew the orcish Galadorians and burned down their temple.  “Not that I care about them,” he says dismissively, “but this Kryzzo guy might be a danger to my people!”

“Well, if they’re Galadorians, don’t they deserve a chance?” Inoke points out.

“They are orcs,” the _Mace of St. John_ exclaims.  “I find it preposterous that they would follow the Light!  Impossible!  It must be a ruse.”

“You don’t know everything, that’s for sure,” Horbin the MFKG Holy snaps.  “So why don’t you just stay out of this for now?”

The party discusses the idea for a few minutes, then Orbius offers to locate him with a _greater scrying._  “Then we can make an informed decision.”  The party agrees, and Orbius casts his spell, using a bowl of water for a focus.  Then he gasps.  “He’s in _another_ Galadorian church, tearing it up _right now!”_

“Let’s go,” Horbin says sharply.

Our heroes arrive almost instantly, thanks to the powerful teleportation magic Orbius possesses and his trump of Lester.  Then they move quickly, and within one minute of their arrival they come within sight of their foe.  He appears as a naked man, gleaming with sweat in the light of the fire he has lit in the church behind him, but with the head of a billygoat.  He is covered in blood and appears to be chewing on something suspiciously like an ear.  He spits it out and grins at our heroes.  He is in a state of obvious sexual excitement.

“A billyman!” exclaims Horbin.  _”Foul demon!  Servant of Bleak!  Prepare to be cast down!!” he roars.  

The party rushes forward, and Kryzzo cries, “Why do you oppose me?  You serve Chaos!  We should be on the same side!”

They do not heed the demon’s words.  Instead, Chakar seizes him in a profoundly painful hold that the demon must greater teleport out of.  Then Kryzzo attempts to summon aid from the realms of demons, but Inoke’s harrying prevents him from concentrating sufficiently!

“Curse you!” the billyman spits as Chakar grabs him again.  Inoke’s mace swings down on him, and Kryzzo shrieks in pain and terror.

“Greetings, demon!” shouts the Mace of St. John.

And in one more crushing blow, the billyman is extinguished. 

***

*4 p.m., Var*

The day is not over yet.  Part of the party trumps back to Var, in order to pick up their orcish captives to return them to Valonia.  But the orcs get mouthy, and a debate ensues about what to do with them, with Orbius favoring locking them up as enemies of the state and Inoke arguing that they are in the Light, and should be returned to Valonia to do what they will.  Finally his arguments carry the day, and the party returns to Valonia to find Lillamere dead.

“Asmodeus, striking from afar again,” Sybele moans.  “We are so screwed.  What do we do about him?”

Nobody has a good answer to that one.

*Next Time:* The fey party!  The best commune evar!!  And our heroes realize they overlooked the most important part of the Stinking Pit!!!


*We use the counter-tumbling variant from Sword & Fist: if your enemy can beat your Tumble check they can still take an attack of opportunity on you.  

**Inoke maxxed out his psionic lions charge, he used his heedless charge maneuver at maximum, and (iirc) he also used his warmind chain of personal superiority.  Thus, he charged; made a full attack; and got to subtract his entire BAB from his AC and add twice that to damage with Power Attack.  All told he dealt 471 hp of damage in that charge._


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

Thanks for the updates Jester, fluidly written and action packed as always!


----------



## the Jester

*The Fey Party (and so forth)*

_*Date, time and place indeterminate*_

The fey party is a lot of fun for our heroes (Lillamere, of course, has been _true resurrected_ by Horbin by now).  The party helps Alcar look for the Elf-King of Ketzia, but they can’t find him, although pretty much every fey they ask claims that he was “just here a few minutes ago.”

Of course, a fey party isn’t the sort of thing one can organize into ranks and take roll until one finds their desired partygoer.

The party is thick with all sorts of fey creatures, large and small.  The party takes place on a series of lightly-wooded hills, spreading out of view all around.  Horned satyrs play their pipes for nymph dancers.  Sylphs cavort in the air, spilling wine on the tables laden with game and muffins below.  Will-o-wisps dart furitively along, playing games of hide and go seek with their kinfolk.  Animals are everywhere, birds and snails and bats and cats and dogs and stags.  There are gnat-sized glowing things that are more powerful than most of our heroes.  The rich aroma of roasting meat mixes with the smoke of the roaring fires, and large sections of the crowd are enveloped in intoxicating smokes from strange smoking herbs and odd bundles of flowers thrown into the fire.

Our heroes have a blast.  Hollyhock, Lillamere’s relatively new pseudodragon familiar, has a blast and gets a little pseudodragon nookie from another of his kind who happens to be at the party.  Most of our heroes generally get really loaded on a variety of drinks, strange perception-twisting bits of food and smoking herbs.  Best of all, while they are at the party, there is no _scrystriking._  Nobody is blasted from afar by Asmodeus.

Alcar is quite frustrated with his inability to find the faerie king.  A _commune_ he had performed some days past had told him that the Elf-King of Ketzia would aid him in his most important, most personal quest: to recover his _backpack of infinite food._  His best magic item of all time, he bore it proudly for years as the Angel of Food; but then- judgment!  Disaster!  He was found wanting by the politicians of Heaven, the damned short-sided angels that stripped him of his title and his backpack.  

He _must_ find it again, he _must_ restore his honor.  If only he could speak to Galador directly!  But even the thought makes Alcar quail.  The brilliant radiance surrounding Galador might blast anyone but the strongest of the archangels to oblivion by its mere presence!  Alcar sighs.  He must struggle to prove himself until he regains his pack.  Curse it!

There is much merriment.  Inoke, who (like several of the other party members present) has a date from Lester’s Temple of Elemental Good with him, ends up in a threesome with her and a dryad.  Sybele gets too drunk for her own good and vomits an enormous gout of sick on a terribly offended fey who storms off.  The other fey around her seem to think this was a terribly dangerous gaffe, and warn her that she has earned the enmity of a leshay.  She passes out face down in her gravy.

As the party goes on, Lillamere _shape changes_ into a big bunny and cuddles with the fey.  They really seem to enjoy that, especially a few that have ingested some strange fluid that apparently enlivens their sense of touch in a very pleasant way.  

Periodically throughout the party, as Alcar asks after the fey king, he sees a very pretty green cat.  Over the course of the event, our heroes start to suspect that the cat _is_ the king of the fairies, but though our heroes talk to him as if he is, the cat does not answer.

Eventually it ends, as all parties must, but it lasts a lot longer than most such things. 

***

_*11/15/370 O.L.G., 9 a.m., Var*_

The morning after they leave the party, our heroes find that 18 days have passed. 

“That’s pretty good, really,” comments Orbius.

“Yeah, they like me,” Alcar smiles.

At noon the former Angel of Food performs what must, perhaps, be termed the Best Commune Evar.

_What the f—k?!_ *Yes.*
_Why?_ *Yes.*
_But how?_ *Yes.*
_What the hell for?_ *Yes and no.*

He pauses to think for a moment.  

_Where?_ *Yes.*
_Are you sure?_ *Of course.*

Alcar struggles with himself.  Surprisingly, this line of questioning is actually touching on something worthwhile; otherwise, the answers would be less complex.  What does it mean?  He frowns.

_Can I talk to you later?_ *Yes.*

A couple of hours later our heroes meet for drinks in the Three Rubies tavern.  Lester and Alcar swap stories; they have traveled together many times in the past, but years have gone by since then.  Even recently, Alcar has only seen some of the action.

“Yeah, for instance the pit fiend,” remarks Inoke.  “You weren’t there for that, were you?”

“Pit fiend!” exclaims Alcar.  “No, but I wish I had been!  Where did you fight him?”

“Blendorag,” Orbius answers.  “It was Thizli, Fiend of the Stinking Pit.”  

“Ooh, did you already hatch the phoenix egg?”

“What?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot!  Must be all the pot,” Lester remarks.

“You mean you didn’t know about it?”

“What are you talking about?” Baron Lillamere asks.

“According to Malford and Dexter- who I used to _travel with,_ by the way- there was a phoenix egg guarded by the pit fiend, and if you rescued it and guarded it for a year and a day, it would hatch and grant you a _wish._”  Alcar pauses.  “I can’t believe it!  You guys didn’t get it!”

“Let’s go!” exclaims Gerontius.

“Wait, I want to do some divinations first,” Orbius says, and soon he casts _contact other plane_.

_What guise did the King of Fairies wear last night when I saw him?_ *Unknown.*
_Given our means, what is the easiest way to get the phoenix egg from Blendorag?_ *Teleport.*
_What creatures guard the egg?_ *Devils.*
_What is the most powerful type of devil that guards the egg?_ *Xerfilstyx.*
_How many are there?_ *Four.*
_What wards have been placed directly on the egg to prevent us from taking it?_ Symbols.[/i]
_What effect will a _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_ have on the egg?_ *Unward.*
_If I cast _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_ on the egg, will it destroy the hatchling?_ *No.*
_What is the name of the leshay with a grudge against Sybele?_ *Flannery.*
_What could Sybele do to make Flannery forgive her?_ *Slay.*
_If we were to all be disguised as orcs and teleport into Flannery’s area and teleport away _mind blanked[/i], would we get away with it?[/i] *Yes and no.*

“I hate that answer,” he grumbles.

Our heroes return to the Stinking Pit.

***

The stars.  What are they?  When the world is on the inside of a big bubble, what are those tiny points of light?  What is the meaning of their movements (for at least some of them do indeed move)?  

The important thing, for us, is to know that a certain alignment, a conjunction, if you will, is nearing.  When it happens, many things are possible.  Many crossings may happen.  Things will be able to _cross over._

From the depths of Hell, Asmodeus studies the skies of a million worlds and watches the conjunction forming.  The skies between two worlds will overlap, and many things will be possible.  Many _enemies_ might be slain, maneuvered into destroying each other.  

From somewhen else, from the ashes of another cosmos, a dark intelligence looks on as well.  There are possibilities when the wall between realities is thin.  There are two of them left who might yet be able to tear down the abomination the Master created and restore the dark equilibrium that ought to exist.  

And from somewhere else again, from the depths of the bedrock of all reality, ancient eyes look on the possibilities grimly.  _I knew that there would be weakness at the stress points of the boundary when I agreed to send them back in the first place, so long ago, but I thought there would be nothing to prey on them.  I did not count on the remaining angels._

He steeples his fingers in deep, deep thought. 

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes’ mission to recover the egg of the phoenix (and hatch it!)


----------



## the Jester

Current party roster:

Inoke (barb 2/psiwar 2/ftr 6/warmind 13)
Alcar (half-celestial elf ftr 2/clr 13)
Lester (elem 14/warrior of chaos 4/divine oracle 3/contemplative 2/paraelementalist 1)
Baron Lillamere (sorcerere 20/argent savant 1)
Sybele (ftr 8/egoist 13/warrior of chaos 4)
Chakar (monk 18)
Veil Raybender (doppleganger ftr 6/mindspy 4/warrior of chaos 1)
Seethe (druid 18)*
Sir Maxwell (paladin 14/knight of the chalice 6)*

_Cohorts:_

Orbius Visionary (diviner 7/divine oracle 10/archmage 2/loremaster 2)
Jezebel (half-dragon rogue 5/sorc 8/arcane trickster 1)


*Seethe's player lost his character sheet for a long time and switched back to Maxwell, his previous character, when he was _scrystruck_ by Asmodeus (prolly 1-2 updates away, this is a very minor spoiler).


----------



## Greybar

You are the master of frequent updates, indeed.


----------



## the Jester

*Egg of the Phoenix*

_*11/15/370 O.L.G., 11:20 a.m., the Stinking Pit*_

Guided by Orbius’ divination, our heroes begin searching for the phoenix egg of the Stinking Pit of Blendorag.  Despite the overthrow of the pit fiend Thizli, the foul, choking smoke still wafts up from the lake of lava below.  Visibility is extremely limited, so our heroes, affected by a _mass overland flight,_ have to search very carefully and thoroughly.  Orbius keeps a _piercing clarity_ up on himself in order to increase his own effectiveness.  The stench of brimstone requires all of our heroes to periodically retreat in order to get some fresh air. 

Hours pass in slow examination of every crack, ledge and little hole in the walls of the vast pit.  Finally, the Eye calls out, “I have found something!”  The others fly over to Orbius, and there is a flurry of buffing magic as our heroes prepare for trouble.  Then Gerontius finds the secret door’s mechanism as trips it; and our heroes enter a 60’ long stone hall.  Within it are four horrifying monsters that seem like some sort of ghastly half-humanoid, half-slug.  Their skin is a clammy looking blue color.  Each bears a wicked-looking falchion.  Behind them is a large bright orange egg.  As Orbius spies it, _symbols_ flare to life on it!  Death magic and fear wash over our heroes like ocean water over one’s feet on the beach, tingling but not actually slowing anyone down more than half an instant.

Orbius casts _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_ at the egg, and the _symbols_ crackle and wither, the spells that maintain them dissipating like smoke in a strong wind, and Alcar rushes forward, smiting evil, and Chakar is at his side.  The devils react instantly, with one of them trying to _confuse_ Lester and another fading from view.  The third targets Inoke with a _greater dispel magic,_ reducing his considerable magical and psionic enhancements significantly, while the fourth immediately enters melee with Chakar, trying to sweep the monk’s feet, but he leaps over the devil’s strike nimbly, then adroitly taps the monster in the face with his foot.  Though it looks gentle, like the merest touch, the devil grunts as its nose and cheek shatter.  It groans, then reels back as Alcar pounds it in the side with his mace.   Chakar reaches up and grasps the monster’s shoulder, then suddenly somehow pulls it down and into a grapple!  

Lester, meanwhile, uses the ol’ _horrid wilting_ and quickened _flame strike_ combination, focusing on the bad guy that tried to _confuse_ him (though the _horrid wilting_ naturally wounds all the devils).  Orbius then adds a quickend _true strike_ and a _disintegrate_ to the action, and the devil explodes in fine spray of dust!

Inoke, stripped of most of his enhancements, _expands_ to huge size again.  His shrugs mentally; he needn’t spend more time getting ready, the fight is already here and he’s convinced the party can win it.  One of the monsters is down, one is grappled by the dwarven monk, one is moving to try to persuade Chakar to let him go and one of them is still standing off a little ways.  So he unleashes a sweeping strike at Chakar’s victim and the devil rushing to his aid, crushing and killing both of them and then cleaving onto the remaining devil, who has just unleashed a frigid _cone of cold_ that hurt our heroes a good deal. 

“It’s over, devil!” Chakar announces to the last surviving xerfilstyx, flying up to eye level with the monster.  In a flurry of blows, Chakar pounds the monstrous half-slug in the head, splits its skull, reaches in and removes its brain!  It falls, dead, and he casts the organ aside.

“Wow, that was a good move!  If you hadn’t before, your worth you’d have proved!” Lester cries, impressed.

Alcar gestures.  “The egg is ours.”

***

Deciding what to do about hatching the egg- which really means safeguarding it for a year and a day and then getting a _wish_- is next on the to do list.  “Wait,” suggests Gerontius.  “That’s all we have to do.”

“That’ll take forever,” Lester argues.  “That’s not very clever.  Perhaps a fast time plane would not be our bane.”

So the party returns to Sigil, to the Eyebrary as they have taken to calling it.  They know the Eyebrarian has access to a demiplane wherein time flows quickly; he allowed them to use it to study his books.  He is willing to allow them to use it again in return for a magical tome, which they purchase on the streets of Sigil.  Then they prepare to spend a subjective year and a day in the demiplane, which should be about four months of time on Cydra.  

The _scrystrikes_ continue while they are within the demiplane, and very soon the party makes the grim decision to _mind blank_ everyone all the time.  “We have to stay on our guard constantly,” Orbius insists, and he’s right.  Anything else would leave them open to constant magical attack.  It is more than worrisome that Asmodeus has taken an interest in them.  _What did we do?_ Orbius wonders.  

If only he knew- it is not what they have done, it is what they are _about to do._

Inoke’s genie eventually issues forth from its bottle and grants him his third _wish_, finally able to be freed.  There is great rejoicing, and the genie thanks Inoke for his kind and dignified treatment.   Inoke uses the _wish_ to refocus all the weapon training he has had in the greatclub to apply instead to the heavy mace.  He is not certain whether it will work; but it does, much to his relief.

Over the year and a day, subjective, that the party spends in the demiplane, Inoke listens faithfully to the preaching of the _Mace of St. John_ day after day.  Soon he has turned to Law as an ideal, though he certainly opposes Law in conjunction with Evil.  Indeed, Inoke comes to realize that only through the perfect union of Law and Good can the greatest good for the greatest number be achieved.

About midway through the period the party spends on the demiplane, a series of _sendings_ come from the Delphinate, apparently being sent out to all of the most powersful spellcasters known on Cydra.  Lillamere, Orbius, Lester and Horbin are all on that list.  The gist of the message is that the Delphin wishes to summon a great conclave of spellcasters to discuss the establishment of a ‘Law of Magical War’.  All of our heroes are intrigued.  Our heroes will hear more about this later, they are certain.

Finally the phoenix egg begins to smoke and shake, and about a day later, it begins to crack until it suddenly bursts free in a blaze of glory.

Awed by the spectacular radiance before them, Orbius goes down on one knee and cries, “Oh glorious phoenix, welcome back from your long exile!  We have rescued your egg and hatched you over a year and a day, as-“

The phoenix gives out a loud anguished cry.  “You fools!” he cries.  “You utter fools!  You have broken the bargain!  Now the prison will not hold him!  Now _the One Who Came Before_ is free to return!”

“God dammit,” curses Sybele, “we’ve made _another_ enemy, haven’t we?”

_*Next Time:*_ Who is _the One Who Came Before?_ Who did he ‘come before’?  What does all this have to do with our hereos’ current rash of problems?  And what about their _wish??_


----------



## Greybar

Ooops.  I guess some research in the Eyebrary about all this might have been a good idea *before* they went into the demiplance.  But then, this isn't exactly a very studious group, is it?


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Greybar, its very difficult to cover all of our bases and, in this case, we probably would have done the same thing even if we had known the consequences.  After all, Asmodeous is gunning for us anyway.

One of the things that makes Jester's Epic game so fun is that even acts of good, at this level, will likely have large consequences.  Its virtually impossible to do epic stuff and not step on someone/something's toes.  Yes, it is still frustrating knowing that we are constantly making new enemies, but there is little we can do sometimes not to piss off NPCs.


----------



## Technik4

*Re: Current Party Roster*

Could you post everyone else's race? I didn't realize Alcar was an elf 

Technik


----------



## the Jester

Technik4 said:
			
		

> Could you post everyone else's race? I didn't realize Alcar was an elf
> 
> Technik




Sure!

Inoke- human
Alcar- half-celestial elf 
Lester- half-elf
Baron Lillamere- elf
Sybele- human
Chakar- dwarf
Veil Raybender- doppleganger
Seethe- human (iirc)
Sir Maxwell- human

Cohorts:

Orbius Visionary- human
Jezebel- half-dragon human


----------



## the Jester

*A Terrible Mistake*

The phoenix, embers smoldering around it, gives a screech of despair.  “No, no, no!  You should have left me unhatched, imprisoned in my egg forever!”

“It that really what you would have wanted?” asks Sybele.

“The price of release is too high!”

“What price?” inquires Orbius.

“Turmoil, despair- you have released the One Who Came Before from his long prison!”

“Who’s that?” asks Gerontius.

“The One Who Came Before- what?  Or whom?” Orbius inquires again.

“You have released Asmodeus’ predecessor,” the phoenix wails.  

Nobody really has anything to say about this.

“Well,” Lester says brightly, “maybe we need to mend some fences, maybe we have unforseen consequences, maybe our answers are sometimes hit or miss but at least this time we come away with a _wish!_”

“What Lester means,” interjects Orbius, “is that we were under the impression that you would grant us a _wish_ after we hatched you.”

“What!” the great fiery bird exclaims.  “A _wish,_ for unleashing such a terrible evil on the world?!  I think not!”  It spreads its wings.  “You meant well, but have caused much harm.  I must leave to attempt to put right what I may.  A _wish!_” it concludes, scoffing, and spreads its proud wings.  In a burst of flames and a brilliant flash of radiance, it is gone.  

“Well, damn!” exclaims Alcar.  “All these years we thought it would grant us a _wish_ upon being freed!”

_”You shall receive your reward,”_ murmurs a gentle voice.

Our heroes turn to regard a robed figure, standing ramrod straight in a watchful attitude.  Dressed as some sort of courtier or minister, the figure stands some 7’ tall, with delicate curling horns atop his brow.  He bows formally.

“Who are _you?_” exclaims Horbin distrustfully.  He casts a _magic circle against evil_ and grimaces, searching his extensive knowledge of fiends, but the figure does not look like anyone Horbin has heard of.

The figure smiles scarlet.  “You may call me Glaisig,” he responds.  “I am here to reward you.”  His smile widens.  “Your actions have made you a terrible foe, for he could foresee what you would do.  Surely he has struck at you already?  Yes, you know of whom I speak.”

“We don’t want your aid,” Horbin snaps.

”I do not offer you ‘aid,’” Glaisig responds.  “I seek merely to give you the reward you have earned, by ancient agreement.”

“What if we refuse?” asks Horbin.

“Deal not with devils!” _St. John’s mace_ interjects.

Glaisig shrugs.  “Then you refuse.  But you have already earned both the reward and the wrath of the upstart usurper.  Surely you need all the tools you can get to oppose him.”

“And what do you gain by granting us this?” asks Inoke suspiciously.

”Gain?  Nothing.  I fulfill my part of an ancient bargain, in the name of my great lord and master.  You have _already_ fulfilled your half of the bargain.”

”We will not do your bidding, devil!” snaps Alcar.

“I am not asking you to do anything,” Glaisig answers again.  “I merely offer you the reward you have already earned.  You may, of course, refuse, and I will leave peacefully; or you may accept, and after I shall leave peacefully.  It is up to you.”

Our heroes confer.  Nobody knows who this guy is, nor do they know anything about a predecessor to Asmodeus- for that must surely who the enemy that our heroes have already aroused is- but everyone agrees that a _wish_ is not something to be turned away lightly. 

“There’s a trick here somehow, or a trap,” Alcar says, his face dark.  “We should not deal with devils.”

Telepathically, over the _Rary’s telepathic bond_ our heroes nearly always have active, Lester says, _We aren’t dealing with them, they’re giving us a _wish.

“I don’t know,” Horbin mutters, almost to himself.  “I certainly don’t trust this guy, or his master.”

“Maybe we could use the _wish_ to help deal with some of our present problems somehow,” suggests Gerontius, and a long discussion ensues about what the party will do with the _wish_ if they accept it.  Through it all Glaisig waits patiently.  In the end it is Veil’s suggestion that carries the day, and the party accepts the _wish_ and uses it to buy out the assassination contract the Grey Brotherhood has on them.  Hopefully this will result in a lot less sudden death for our heroes.  

***

Orbius has spent a great amount of time researching ways to redirect the worm gates, but unfortunately all he has been able to find are some vague references to creatures known as void masters; perhaps they have the lore he seeks.  He ascertains where he can find them with his magical divining abilities, and when he does, he frowns to himself, deeply disturbed.

_The bottom of the multiverse- reacheable only via the phantom flyer.  And last we knew, the phantom flyer was just outside of the Fortress of Conclusion._

The Fortress of Conclusion.  Just the thought of it brings a coppery taste of fear into his mouth.  It was there that our heroes faced Acererak the demi-lich.  It was there that they finally defeated Felenga, the Dark One, once and for all.  It was a horrifying place, a scar in the belly of the inflinite Negative Energy Plane.  To return there- Orbius shudders.  There are horrible memories there; any creature that would choose to dwell there is unlikely to be friendly.

Still, it would be worth at least an attempt to buy or wrest the lore from the void masters to safeguard Cydra.

***

_*3/18/371 O.L.G.*_

Our heroes are surprised when Sir Maxwell shows up at Lester’s Temple of Elemental Good with a tale of being blasted by an unseen magical force.  _”Scrystrike,”_ Chakar says grimly.  “We have been facing that sort of thing extensively of late.”

“Clearly, I’m not as retired as I had hoped,” Sir Maxwell replies wryly.

***

A few days pass as Orbius researches an old spell called _accelerate._  It will speed the movement of any flying creature, device or spell.  Our heroes agree that it is worthwhile, to speed the journey of the strange phantom flyer that can take them to the bottom of the multiverse.  

The Void, the Negative Energy Plane, is devoid of light, heat, hope or energy.  It is almost devoid of life as well, excepting a few strange anti-life creatures.  Survival is difficult for a material creature.  Powerful spells are in place before our heroes make their transition to the Void, _gating_ to the Fortress of Conclusion.  

The phantom flyer is a bizzare beast.  It is like a long tentacled log of flesh, with many saddles upon its back, enough for everyone to mount up.  Our heroes are uncertain as to whether it is a creature, a construct or something else entirely.  Those who were fought through Acererak’s gauntlet previously remember the long journey through darkness on the flyer’s back, but to those who have not seen it before the strange writhing beast is unsettling at the least.  It rests motionless on the platform just outside the grinning face of the Devourer whose maw serves as a door into Acererak’s fortress.

Our heroes mount up.  The great wings of the flyer shift and then spread; and it leaps into the blackness ahead.  The Fortress of Conclusion dwindles away behind them, so that none of our heroes note the observer who emerges from the door of the fortress to watch them as they vanish into the Void.  Thin blue lips purse.  The smell of strange incense clings to its robes.  It is glad to be undisturbed, though it recognized several of the party.  _They were the ones who slew the demilich,_ the creature thinks.  _They were here when we arrived.  They do not disturb us; good._  It nods to itself.  _There is much work to be done.  Still, I wonder- where do they go in the Void?_

It hesitates, then shakes its head.  It would not do to look too deeply into the affairs of reckless adventurers such as those.  Better by far to let them do what they do, and hope their paths never cross his pilgrimage again.  Unless, of course, they could be useful in some way no other could.  _They do owe me one,_ the creature thinks.  _I did save their companion from _Desatysso’s renewing reward._  Perhaps they will remember that if ever I need their aid._

***

How long is a journey through a timeless, lightless void when one is on a beast that prevents hunger, thirst and fatigue?  How does one measure time in the plane of Negative Energy itself?  However one does it, the journey lasts a long time.  It seems to drag on forever.  Veil nearly gets out of his saddle several times, but a stern scolding from everyone else at once convinces him not to.  

Do days pass?  There is no sun to mark it.  Could it be weeks?  Perhaps; it is interminable.  Months, even?  It is hard to say.  It is forever.  It never ends.  The journey is eternal.  Everyone is snappish and several times people have considered _plane shifting_ away, but... but... 

The quest. 

There’s always the quest.  Adventurers don’t give up on their quest.  They don’t admit defeat.  They persevere.  Against monsters, against mountains, against storms, against traps and poison; surely a long ride in the dark can’t stop them.  

Oh, but it’s a long and dark passage. 

At last something comes into view.  Another fortress, built on a chunk of deep black stone, looms ahead.  It has multiple towers, with a strong-looking wall all around it.  And out in front of the portcillus is a pair of nightmarish creatures, huge humanoids of utter blackness that radiate a fearsome cold.   “Nightwalkers!” Horbin cries.  

“Let me try to negotiate first,” Orbius says.  Then he shouts, “I come to speak to Pyrthl the Void Master!  I am Orbius Visionary, Eye of Boccob, and-“

The nightwalkers prepare to attack, but before they can Lillamere _disintegrates_ one of them in a shower of ash and fragments of darkness.  Veil tumbles past the other one and tries to squeeze through the bars of the portcillus, unsuccessfully.  The nightwalker, meanwhile, engages Inoke in melee over the wall, striking from behind the portcillus.  Alcar leaps up to the portcillus and lifts.  Slowly the black metal in his hands grinds upwards until he has room to move in!  And move in he does, laying into the monster with his heavy mace.  The nightwalker summons some sort of dark allies of its own, and Alcar is surprised to find that all the spells he had in effect that were preventing the Negative Energy Plane from causing him distress seem to have been dispelled!

Lester, meanwhile, uses his boots to _teleport_ forward.  He, too, finds his protections from planar effects have evaporated.  “Uh-oh, it’s bad in here! Don’t come in, you’ll shed a tear!” the elementalist calls, and then utters a few magical phrases and explodes a superluminous _sunburst_ that eliminates the opposition and blinds most of the party.  

Past the barbican Lester and Alcar reestablish their wards, and the others teleport in to join them.  They are in the courtyard of the castle.  Ahead of them is a door. 

“I thought we wanted to be diplomatic,” Lillamere remarks.

”Hey, _you_ shot first!” exclaims Orbius.  “Anyway, those were hopefully just servants anyhow.  It’s Pyrthl the Void Master that we need to talk to.”

And, as it turns out, he is just past the door ahead.

_*Next Time:*_ Can our heroes negotiate with the Void Master Pyrthl?  And just what is a Void Master, anyway?


----------



## the Jester

The Void Master emerges with its pet.  In what little light is not greedily devoured by the dark plane around them our heroes can see only a shape of utter blackness, standing twice as high as a man, with wide wings composed of pure darkness.  A rustling sound comes from it; it seems to be moving, but it is so dark that nobody can tell what it is doing.

“I am Pyrthl,” it breathes.  “What is it that you want?”

Orbius steps forward and bows.  Trying not to let his teeth chatter- it’s growing _cold_- he says, “I am Orbius Visionary, Eye of Boccob.  I come seeking lore that only you Void Masters seem to have.”  He explains in brief about the worm gates, and the party’s idea to redirect them to Mechanus.

“I could help you,” Pyrthl mutters.  “But first, you must aid me.”

“What do you need?” Orbius inquires. 

“There is a wand of terrible power, once wielded by a mighty demon prince who has since been destroyed.  I seek it.  You will retrieve it for me.”

Orbius’ face drains of color.  _Orcus.  He means Orcus.  He wants us to get him the _wand of Orcus!_  We don’t know anything about these guys, but I don’t think we want them to have the _wand of Orcus._  But I had better speak carefully for now- we don’t need to add to our list of enemies, it’s big enough already._

“We will return when we have gotten the wand for you,” Orbius says with another bow.  The party _greater teleports_ back to the phantom flyer.

“This trip was a bad idea,” complains Gerontius.  “Are we going to attack these guys?”

“We can’t- we need some information that only they have.”

“Then why are we here?”

“To get that information.”

”That they will only give us if we get them this wand.”

”Right.”

“We aren’t doing that, I’ll tell you one thing,” Horbin says.  He shakes his head.  “Who are these guys?  Working with undead, according to our divinations they have a balor in there... they’re bad news.  No way do we want them to get than wand!”

“No, it’s good that we came,” Inoke insists.  “Now at least we know what they want us to do.  But is there any point to us staying here if we aren’t going to do this guys’s bidding?”

“You should slay them all!” exclaims his mace.

“Oh, shut up, stick.  I can’t believe you go around talking to a stick!” grumbles Lillamere.  Inoke shrugs.

“We don’t know that they’ve done anything wrong,” Horbin argues.  “Even though they look to me like they’re probably evil, that might very well just be the influence of the plane.  They are creatures of negative energy, after all- at least if they’re native to this place.  We can’t very well attack them for being a product of their environment if they aren’t doing anything wrong.”

“We don’t know what they’re doing,” answers Gerontius.  “They could be up to something totally nefarious.”

“Maybe, but it could be totally innocent as well.”  Horbin sighs.  “We have to treat them as though they are innocent until we see evidence to the contrarty.”

“This sucks, we aren’t even doing anything.”  Sybele pouts.  “Let’s go back to Var.”

“I think you’re right,” Orbius sighs.  

***

Back in Var, our heroes discuss seeking out the _Wand of Orcus,_ and Orbius even attempts to divine about it (to no avail).  Then they turn fully from seeking it. 

“Well, what next, then?” asks Sybele.  “We have quite a lot on our list.”

“We still need to deal with Asmodeus,” Lillamere remarks.  “Otherwise he’s going to deal with us.  It’s just a matter of time.”

“Err, yeah, um, what else we got?”

“I was thinking we should kill Lithos,” says Horbin.

”Who’s Lithos?” asks Veil.

“The dragon of the swamp,” the cleric replies.  “Another of Dorhaus’ ancient evils.  Nobody even knows if she is still alive in her swamp, but all the tales hold her as a foul beast indeed.  Nobody has seen her in centuries though.”

“She definitely sounds like a worthy opponent.”  Inoke smiles.

***

Orbius’ divinations inform our heroes that Lithos is bound, leaving them in a quandry again.  Furthermore, she was bound by the Delphin at the time centuries ago.  “Do we wake it up, or let it lie?” wonders Lillamere.

“If we don’t wake it up, someone will sometime,” Horbin declares.  

In the end, the party decides to awaken it.  They go to the huge mound of swamp that has grown up above Lithos and cast an _earthquake._  The dragon awakens, tearing its way free of the swamp, and out heroes destroy it utterly in six seconds.  It doesn’t have a chance.

”Well, that was anticlimactic, for one of Dorhaus’ ancient evils,” remarks Veil.

“We are probably the single most powerful group of individuals in the world,” Horbin reminds her.  “Whoever these ancient evils contended with, they didn’t have to deal with a group like us.”

“How often does a party as powerful as us come along, do you think?” wonders Baron Lillamere of House Drelvin.  “Once every century, maybe less?”

“We will be legends,” says Veil.

“No doubt distorted,” comments Chakar.

“I hope they get everyone’s names right,” Sybele remarks.

***

The conjunction is nearly complete.  Asmodeus begins planting the trail that will lead his enemies to disaster.  From Cydra to Erath he will confound and destroy his foes.  Oh yes.

One of his ministers strides in and falls to a knee before him, quaking.  

The Lord of the Ninth frowns in displeasure.  “What is it?” he demands.

“My lord...” The infernal minister’s forehead is actually touching the ground.  “Bel is dead.”

Silence for a beat.  

“Tiamat has reclaimed Avernus.”  The minister swallows thickly.  “She is holding games in honor of her overthrow of... she refers to Bel as a usurper.”

Asmodeus’ face betrays nothing, but rage burns in his breast.  “How did Bel die?” he hisses.

“It was... my lord... it was Albin, Grimdim, Jared and their group... they...”

“Silence.”  Fierce gladness burns in his heart.  _Bel was a tool, nothing more, and simply an expedient one.  He could not have lasted long in his role.  His death, while premature, is not critical.  But Tiamat... I would not have expected her to return to power!  Very interesting..._

He raises the rod he always bears.  “Leave me,” he commands.  “I will summon you to serve me later.”  The minister scurries away, and Asmodeus broods. 

_My two problems,_ he thinks, _can annihilate each other._

_*Next Time:*_ Things start getting hot!  Glaisig returns with an offer for our heroes!  And is that a _simulacrum_ I see?


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Epic Updating!!!*

Jester,

2 in 1 day?  Awesome!  Any chance of getting a third???


----------



## the Jester

Prolly the next update (or maybe the one after that) will have a considerable segment written by Angel of Adventure. 

(Thanks, AoA!)


----------



## the Jester

*Things Heat Up*

Expect a second update, which will include AoA's part, later today.  

We're getting very close to a super-special gaming event that took myself and and another dm about 4 months to set up.   That said, here's the first of today's updates:

_*3/23/371 O.L.G., 11 p.m. the Temple of Elemental Good*_

“Oohh, Lester... ooh...” 

The woman he’s making love to moves beneath him, soft and warm, and the L is near a state of bliss he hasn’t experienced in months.  Somewhere, in some remote corner of his mind, he’s glad the group took tonight to unwind and party here in the Temple of Elemental Good.  He can only hope his friends have had as much luck with the ladies as he has.

Then suddenly there’s a glaive thrusting into his back.  His lovemaking session ends in a splatter of blood and gore, the woman under him is screaming, he’s actually been thrown off of her; and with a shock Lester realizes that he’s just been nearly killed.  Only his immense fortitude has saved him.*  But the grinning bearded devil (_Where the hell did he come from, and how did he find me?_ wonders Lester) thrusts at him again and leaves him stunned and even closer to the edge.

There is a _Rary’s telepathic bond_ up between many of the party members, ‘just in case someone needs to yell for help’ (as Orbius likes to say).

_HELP!!_ Lester screams over the link.  _ASSASSIN!!_

The diabolical assassin closes in.  The grin on his face grows even wider as Lester reels, half-drunk from the night’s partying.  This will finish him.

***

When Lester’s telepathic cry for help reaches him, Orbius’ super-powerful intellect instantly recognizes one thing that outweighs all the rest: _Time is of the essence._  So he casts a _time stop,_ then _superior teleports_ to Lester’s side.  The frozen tableau that greets him is horrific.  There is blood everywhere.  The nude form of the girl is frozen in the midst of an attempt to scramble out of her bed, which is splattered crimson.  Her mouth is open in a terrified scream.

Lester is lying on the floor, several very deep, very precise wounds running through his body.  He is nearly dead.  _I’m just in time,_ thinks Orbius.

Advancing on the L is a bearded devil of terrible aspect, wearing a loose-fitting dark uniform.  Orbius’ long studies of the planes allow him to identify the fiend immediately.

_Zavael.  Supposedly Asmodeus’ chief assassin- but the fact that he is known as such means that he isn’t really the true chief assassin.  Still... this is quite a statement of intent.  A declaration of war, if the _scrystrikes_ weren’t already, and probably calculated to send a message.  He wants to be sure we know who is after us.  Well, we know, Asmodeus- we know._

Grimly, Orbius positions himself and times it just right.  He puts a _wall of force_ between Zavael and Lester, then positions himself next to Lester and the girl and readies a _greater teleport._  As time starts to flow again, the girl’s screams begin and Lester is groaning in pain; but then they’re gone before Zavael can react.

In Var, at Horbin’s Halls of Healing, Lester roars in anger.  He has been put over the edge into his berserker state, something that has only happened a few times.  It is a fearsome sight; the muscles of his neck tense up, his hands ball into fists, behind his sunglasses his eyes go red.  His face turns downright purple as he screams a howl of frustration, for his enemy is nowhere to be seen.

Shortly he calms down.  

***

_*6 p.m., the Three Rubies tavern, Var*_

“We are going to have to do something about Asmodeus,” groans Lillamere.  He takes a sip of his wine.  

“We can’t fight our way past armies of pit fiends to face him!” Lester exclaims.  He is no longer injured.

“Maybe we could sneak past?” Gerontius wonders.  

“Maybe _you_ could, but I doubt whether all of us could,” Horbin opines.  “We are talking about Asmodeus here.”

There seems to be no good solution to our heroes’ problems.

***

_*3/24/371 O.L.G., 11 a.m., outside the Temple of Elemental Good*_

When our heroes return to the Temple of Elemental Good, there are two worms composed of stormclouds in the sky, entertwined together.  It is clear that they are mating.  _How ironic,_ thinks Lester over the _telepathic bond._

“They look like those thunder worm thingies,” Inoke says.  He frowns.  “They were _tough._”

“We can take ‘em!  Let’s so blast ‘em!” Lester says enthusiastically.

“No, hold on a second,” says Gerontius.  “It was _tough_ last time.  It could unleash a sonic boom that almost killed me.  This time there are two of them- and Horbin stayed back in Var.”

“We can probably destroy them at range,” Orbius replies reassuringly.

“Oh, man, okay- but they’re going to kill me,” the halfling moans.

But his fears prove unfounded.  Our heroes ward themselves against sonic and electrical damage and then take to the air, moving well away from innocents at the temple complex before beginning a long-range assault.  Orbius fires a _delayed blast fireball,_ then gets two volleys of _seeker missiles_ into the air, which begin moving towards their targets at high speed.  Lester casts a new spell he has developed, _wrath of the elements,_ which pounds the worms with mutliple energy effects, followed by a _fire storm_ and a _horrid wilting_.  Lillamere keeps firing _punctures_ and missing.  

Meanwhile the worms have broken off their mating ritual and begun speeding through the sky towards our heroes.  Inoke and Gerontius move up to defend the less physical casters, and as another volley of spells explodes into the onrushing worms, Inoke cries out, “Gerontius, they’re here!”  Then he lays into the first one, dealing immense damage.  

Each of the worms, upon coming close enough, emits a sonic boom of incredible intensity.  Though our heroes are protected from sonic attacks, the first blast tears through their protections and the second one leaves them staggered and several almost dead.

But Inoke’s overwhelming force finishes his worm off, and then the other one is enveloping him.  Within it, Inoke feels electricity and waves of sound pound into him, and he’s glowing like red-hot iron from his _energy adaptation_, but so far he’s not actually being hurt significantly.  

_Meteor swarms, flame strikes, _another _delayed blast fireball_- the arcane onslaught continues.  Those _seeker missiles_ that miss once swoop in again for another pass.  Orbius blasts the surviving worm with a maximized _disintigrate_ aided by a quickened _true strike_, and Inoke strikes a final blow at it from within.  The worm is destroyed.

“I’d hate to think what would have happened if they had made _more_ thunder worms,” Sybele comments.

***

After making sure that Lester’s lover from the other night is okay, the party _greater teleports_ to Tirchond, then goes through a portal in a certain dwarven merchant’s attic and into Sigil.  Here they hope they can find a solution to their problems.  Orbius casts a _sending_ to Little Alex, and the party waits for about twenty minutes until the tout arrives.  He rustles up accomodations for them.  As they make themselves at home, a gentle knock at the door reveals Glaisig, the fiend who came to them and granted their _wish_ after they hatched the phoenix egg.

“What do you want?” Horbin demands, hostility dripping from his voice.

“Peace, Horbin the Holy,” the devil soothes, shutting the door behind him softly.  “I come to aid you with a problem you have.”

“Oh, I doubt that.  At least, not without a serious price.”

“There is no price.  Your interests coincide with those of my master.”

“Oh?  And who is your master exactly?  Asmodeus?”

“No.”  Glaisig seems laconically amused.  “Asmodeus in not _my_ master.  I serve his predecessor.”

“Who is that?” asks Horbin.  “How about a name?”

Glaisig nods.  “Very well.

“I serve Lucifer.”

_*Next Time:*_ What does Glaisig want?  A piece of the Simulacrum puzzle!  


*Read that as “412 hp total.”


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Yes, 412 hps do help when it comes to surviving assasination attempts.  (Z had 2 full rounds of attacks on Lester who, as you might guess, didn't have much on at the time.)

However, we still consider it a victory for us, as we later scryed him and he was kneeling before a mind-blanked figure, presumably Asmodeous.  In general, surviving an assasination attempt is the secondary goal for the assassin.  The first goal is always to take out the target, which he did not, and thereby failed!

(P.S.:  Jester, Sep posted in House Rules some Epic stuff you should look at.)


----------



## the Jester

*Propositions and Simulacra*

Alcar demands, “What is it you want, devil?”

“As I said,” Glaisig answers smoothly, “I wish to assist you.  Your interests and those of my master coincide.”

“I doubt that,” Horbin the MFKG Holy snaps.

“Oh?  How about the defeat of Asmodeus?”

Horbin bites back a reply.  

“Surely by now you realize that, if you wish to live long lives, you must deal with the problem.  He will not go away.  He will not stop seeking your destruction, nor will it prove possible to negotiate with him.  As an enemy, he is implacable.”

“True, he is a problem for us,” Lillamere retorts, “but you are a devil- is he not your overlord?”

Glaisig laughs.  “No.  I serve his predecessor.  With the hatching of the phoenix, Lucifer is free to return.  You see now?  This is how our interests coincide: we have a very powerful mutual enemy.  He seeks your destruction and my master’s complete overthrow.”

“And what do you suggest we do about this problem?” Lillamere asks.

“We can provide you with... an opportunity.  You must merely take it.”

“An opportunity to strike Asmodeus?” exclaims Inoke.

The devil nods.  “We can set up a distraction.  This distraction should allow you to get close to Asmodeus relatively undetected.”

“Are you insane?” barks Horbin.  “We can’t just attack Asmodeus!”

“Why not?” Lillamere asks.  “He’s attacking us, and how else are we going to stop him?  Even if we can’t kill him, maybe we can persuade him that going after us is not in his best interests.”

Glaisig shrugs.  “Think it over.  Our best opportunity is in about a week.”  He hands a pocket watch to Lillamere.  “When you are ready to discuss things further, break the glass.”

After Glaisig departs our heroes discuss possible plans.  “We can’t fight Asmodeus, he’ll slaughter us!” exclaims Horbin.

”Maybe there’s a better way,” Orbius states.  “I have a plan.”

Quickly he outlines his idea.  “We’ll need a lot of rubies... enough for one of my unique spells, _Orbius’ gem fusion_, to turn into a fascimile of Asmodeus’ ruby rod.  Then we use it for a _trap the soul_ spell and all we have to do is trick him into picking it up!”

The party exits the tavern and their Rary’s Telepathic Bond hums with activity.  There is much discussion as to who is manipulating them, just how trustworthy their new contact is, and persons or entities that may seek to aid them, reward them, or destroy them for their strike against Asmodeus.

[Inoeke]:  Maybe we should find out who Asmodeus’ enemies are and offer our services to them.  I bet they will reward us for accomplishing such a lofty task.
[Orbius]:  The fewer people we tell about this, the better.  Anyone who knows about our attack has the opportunity to betray us.  And don’t make bargains with fiends, and certainly don’t ask them for favors.  It’s bad enough when they offer them to you.
[Gerontius]:  Why do we want to do this, again?  I don’t want another evil bad guy after us.  If we attempt this assassination he will want to assassinate us back!
 [Lester]:  Well, don’t feel too bad about pissing him off.  He already wants our heads and it’s either do this or get Scry Striked everyday for the rest of our lives.  Oh, and/or assassinated.  
[Lillamere]:  We have a week to think about it.  Let’s go get our gems and find someplace safe to stay.
[Horbin]:  This whole episode so makes me question why the Great War is an ethical situation?  Whatever happened to just Good and Evil?  You know, there was time when Dexter had a similar moral quandary and I think we should ask ourselves, “What would Dexter Do?”

A quick Superior Teleport later, our heroes are transported into a large, bustling marketplace.  Merchants of all shapes, sizes, races and alignments offer their wares under colorful tents.  The smells, sights, and sounds are overwhelming to them as a multiverse of races collide in an explosion of excited commerce.  

Orbius intones a single archaic word and the crystal lens in his hand disappears.  The waves of humanoids become discernable to him as distinct individuals with their every move open to his awareness.  A grumpy looking dwarf stands above several glass showcases resplendent in fine jewelry and gems.  A grayish-skinned half-fiend nearby is selling rats on a stick, and eyes them cautiously with his piercing red eyes.  A spectacled gnome is rummaging thru a box of scrolls, displaying a scroll, and taking money from a humanoid customer.  Strangely, the scroll stays with the merchant.  Lillamere moves over to a merchant selling exotic fabric from several planes.  

“This cloth here is unlike anything I’ve every seen,” remarks Lillamere.  “Where did you get this wonderfully light fabric?”

“Skyweavers.  They are worms native to the elemental plane of Air.  Probably won’t find this anywhere but here, berk,” says the well-kept gnome.  He eyes Lillamere and his posture indicates he is open to an offer.  They begin to barter.

The rest of the party approaches the jeweler and find that he has about 15,000 gold pieces worth of rubies.  They range across a variety of sizes and qualities, from small, uncut shards to several finely polished gems of generous size.  

“Can we put a down payment on these and come back later?,” asks Inoeke.

“Hmmph, of course you can, berk,” prostrates the Merchant-Dwarf.  “Just be back by the time I close and you’ll get the gems, with full payment, or your monies back.  Either way, be back before I’m done for the day or the money is mine.”

“This is bull*&^%,” decries Gerontius.  “What kind of trading system do you have here?  I feel so abused by the whole situation!”

Their efforts to convince the dwarf to adopt a more favorable trade code go completely unrecognized and Orbius hands him the down payment.  Lillamere returns once his transaction is completed and begins using his smooth tongue to find the whereabouts of more rubies.  Though it takes a couple of hours, he manages to guide them to several small stashes of rubies that complete their needs.  Hurriedly, they return to the original merchant to complete their bargain.  The dwarf in question is beginning to close down his tent, but happily accepts one more sale for the day.  

As Orbius turns his head after saying thank-you, he sees her.

She is tall and elfin, with long silver hair in a single thick braid that falls all the way to the floor. Her skin is a perfect pale shade of marble white. Her large eyes are a deep, calming purple that Orbius feels he could almost fall into. Silver, white and sky blue adorn her. Her jewels tend to silver (or platinum), some set with sapphires. She stands with a sort of unearthly poise that is almost startling. She bears herself with an air at once intelligent, alert, observant and relentless. She is, in every way, breathtaking..

Orbius’ feels his mouth slowly fall open and his eyes bulges as he tries to take in more of her beauty.  A single word escapes in an audible sigh.

“Estelias.”

[Gerontius]:  Dudes!  She is beautiful.  If you know her, we should see if she will come and have another drink with us!
[Lester]:  Oh, yeah!  It would be rude to see such a nice friend and not say hello.
[Lillamere]:  Sure.  We definitely have time to talk with her.  Maybe she will want to join us for dinner, too.
[Orbius]:  Uh, . . . well it’s definitely rude to descend upon her like a pack of rats.  Come with me Lillamere.  Perhaps we can learn more about the Wizards Conference, and maybe see if she has time to take a pleasant walk through the gardens with us.

Lillamere checks his appearance and adjusts his garments for a proper introduction.  I am a Baron of House Drelvin after all, he thinks.  Every cell in his elven body quivers with anticipation as they approach the loveliest example of the elven race he has ever seen.

Estelias smoothly pivots her gaze over her shoulder and turns with incredible grace to meet them.  She eyes the two spell casters up and down with a look of calm interest.

“Uh, . . . (cough) . . . greetings, Estelias,” spurts Orbius.  “Such a pleasure to see you here.  What an unexpected surprise.  We were just looking around at a few gems and thought we’d say ‘hi’.  Um, . . oh, I see you don’t recognize my friend.  Estelias, this is . . .”

“Baron Lillamere, of House Drelvin,” interrupts Lillamere.  His eyes lock onto Estelias’ and he bows in a smooth, airy movement.  “I am honored to meet the most powerful caster of our race.”

“Thank you so much,” she says with a neutral smile.  “House Drelvin, did you say?  How interesting.”  

An uncomfortable silence ensues and Estelias adopts a look of impatience.

“Well, . . .” stumbles Orbius, “it’s just so nice to see you here.  Perhaps you could join us for a cocktail and some polite conversation.”

“I’m afraid not, friend,” she replies with sincere regret.  “I must be on my way after I purchase this scroll.”

“Oh, you’ll not get it,” retorts the gnome shopkeeper, busily adjusting his glasses.  “I told you that I already took a down payment for it earlier and I’ll not break the deal.  That is bad for business.”  

“Oh, I’m sure I can make it worth your loss of future business if we reach an arrangement today,” intones Estelias sharply.  One look on the shopkeepers face is enough to make Orbius realize that she will soon get what she wants. She is irresistible.

“Well, good day, friend,” remarks Estelias and she turns back to the shopkeeper.  

“I’m sorry,” inquires Orbius.  “What did you call me?  You do know my name, right?”

Elegantly, with a twirl of warm sincerity, Estelias looks over her shoulder at Orbius.  Her purple eyes pierce Orbius to his very soul.  “Yes, I assure you I do, friend.  Now leave me to my business, please.”

Their eyes lock for a mere second more, but it is long enough for Orbius’ keen sense to notice something terrifying.  Every detail he sees is identical to his deepest memories of her, from her beautiful flowing hair, to her perfectly smooth skin, to every loving mannerism and comment.

Yet Orbius knows, with the complete certainty, that the real Estelias has eyes that are deep amber.  
He quickly takes the cue to leave and escorts Lillamere back to the party before Estelias can read his face.  One fearful word echoes in the party’s collective mind.

[Orbius]: Simulacrum!!!

Long Pause . . . 

[Lillamere]:  Really?  Are you so sure?
[Orbius]:  Undoubtedly!  We must strike her quickly before she leaves!
[Gerontius]:  Nah, man.  That is such a waste!  Look at her!  I mean, what can I say, you know?
[Horbin]:  I don’t care what you think she is because whatever we are looking at over there has a right to live its own life.  I don’t care if you are a wayward mortal or powerful, freelance simulacrum, because everyone has got the right to . . .
[Inoeke]:  Horbin is right.  Besides, there are laws here and I don’t want to be caught on the wrong side again.  We can’t just make war on the streets like thugs!
[Orbius]:  We cannot leave here without stopping it.  Leaving such a powerful rogue caster alive is a danger to everyone.  
[Lester]:  Mount up.  Let’s roll.
[Horbin]:  No, no, no!  Inoeke and I will have no part of this.  Have fun in your jail cell because I hear that the Lady of Pain is a very interesting conversationalist, as well skilled in some other areas, too.

Before the mental clamor of their panicked, chaotic thought overwhelms him, Orbius issues a Sending to true Estelias, where ever she may be.

Orbius: Your simulacrum is in Sigil.  She is bargaining with a scroll merchant in the Bazaar.
Estelias: Beware.  She is very powerful and very evil.  

The companions regroup a few feet away and begin to commiserate.  They are evenly split between 3 courses of action.  Orbius favors an immediate attack and Lester is all too eager.  Lillamere and Gerontius seem more neutral as neither of them are familiar with the ever-growing Simulacrum Conflict.  Inoeke and Horbin are dead set against it for various philosophical reasons and refuse to participate.

[Horbin]: I don’t care if she is evil or a rouge simulacrum.  She has the right to exist just like anyone else and I am not going to do this!
[Inoeke]: We can’t attack someone in the streets, unprovoked and unarmed.  Haven’t you guys got into trouble in enough places by now?  
[Orbius]: Don’t worry about the laws here as they are quite flexible.  I read up on them in the Library of Bocob and we should be fine so long as innocent civilians aren’t targeted.
[Horbin]:  We are in a street full of people!  
[Lester]:  We can contain the damage on our end.  We just need to make sure that she can’t cast any spells and can’t get away.
[Lillamere]:  Are we sure we want to do this?  What’s wrong with being a simulacrum these days?
[Gerontius]:  Especially being that she is so good looking.  Maybe I should talk with her and see if she will reconsider our offer, no?
[Orbius]:  These rogue simulacra represent a huge unchecked threat to all spell casters in Cydra.  They hate their masters for creating them and want to destroy anything that stands in their way.  I will not allow this monstrosity to walk away from here when we can neutralize it now!
[Horbin]: You can’t be serious.  I’m leaving right now and I am having no part in this.
[Lester]: Well, how about sticking around to heal any potential casualties?  Think of the innocents.
[Horbin]:  That is f*&^%$# up thinking!  You are putting these innocent people in danger for you own sense of . . . 
[Lillamere]:  Hey, Gerontius just moved up to her and can probably distract her for a moment.  Let’s fall back and follow her to a better location.

Gerontius runs up and stops next to Estelias, on her left.  The debate between her and the gnome shopkeeper is rising to an uncomfortable tone.  

“She is a hard working elf, you know?,” states Gerontius.  “Why don’t you just give the scroll to her and be done with it?

Estelias looks at the halfling beside her and then back to the shopkeeper.  Only Horbin and Orbius notice her let the most subtle of enchantment roll from her body.  It manifests itself only as a completely innocuous gesture that flows perfectly into their conversation.

“Please, friend, let me buy the scroll.  My need is great.”

“Fine!!!,” screams the exasperated shopkeeper.  His fist slams down on his table and several scrolls bounce up and roll off.  “Give me twice his price and you can have it!”

[Orbius]:  No, we will not chase her through the streets. She will teleport away and we will never see her again.  We must strike now as we will not get this chance again.  I have a powerful invocation memorized that was furnished by Marius the Chronomancer for just this reason.  
[Inoeke]: OK, this is not a good idea.  We need to get out of here before we get other people hurt.
[Horbin]:  Yeah, Inoeke’s right.  The moral implications of this attack on an innocent person, whether simulacrum or some type of humanoid, are very evil and the inherent rights that we all have as self-aware being are such that . . .
[Orbius]:  Ten seconds to attack!  Do not strike until I give the word.
[Horbin]:  No, you can’t be serious!

The willing companions spread themselves out in a rough semi-circle around Estelias and prepare for their showdown in the streets of Sigil.  The tension beats palpably and Orbius hands sweat as he stretches them in preparation of his spell.    He takes position 25 feet behind Estelias, slightly to her right.  

Gerontius, standing to her immediate left, silently slips his favored dagger from its hidden sheath and readies to strike a fatal blow.  Lester flanks out to her right, takes cover as he stores an Imprisonment valence on his right hand, the moves forward with his hand behind his shield.  

Baron Lillamere keeps the same distance as Orbius, only he is slightly to her left.  He fears that this will go horribly wrong and shame will be brought on House Drelvin.  Inoeke and Horbin, standing several feet behind Lillamere, can only watch in shock as their friends attempt to destroy one of Cydra’s most deadly arcanists in a bazaar teaming with strange and powerful creatures.

Estelias pushes a sack of coins across the counter to her merchant and picks up the scroll as her eyes begin to widen.  A trap has been sprung.

[Orbius]:  NOW!

She seems them coming for her, even the sneaky Halfling right next to her.  She spins around, hands coming to the front with components in hand, lips pursed to utter a transvalent incantation that will surely destroy them all.  

Poised to strike at this very moment, Orbius unleashes a Quickened Dimensional Anchor that successful locks onto her.  

“Prepare to meet your maker!”, he cries and a brilliant blue beam shoots forth from his right hand.  

It impacts her squarely in the chest and her eyes meet his with a look shock and disbelief.  Her face contorts into a visage of beautiful fatality and she explodes into a thousand icy shards that pepper the crowd around them.  

Screams of surprise erupt around them and the shopkeeper appears to be a statue, stuck in a moment of utter terror.  It melts away into anger and he grabs the wet scroll in front of him.

“I knew I shouldn’t have done business with her,” he extorts loudly.  “You just can’t trust them elves!”

“Well, I hope you feel good about what you’ve done,” proselytizes Horbin, “because this was an evil act and that makes you no better than the assassins that are all over us.  Lester, don’t even ask that shopkeeper for that scroll!  We are lucky he doesn’t have us arrested right here.  And for another matter, . . . “

As the party bickers over their successful hit on Estelias’ Sim, Baron Lillamere cannot bring himself to speak yet.  He is frozen in moment of scared awe while remembering everything from the position of her hands, to the curvature of her lips, to the lodestone and pinch of dust readied as her components.  He knows what was coming next had she survived.

“Chain Disintegrate,” he breathes, too silently for the others to here.

_*Next Time:*_ What was the scroll that ‘Estelias’ wanted?  And we finally get to meet the person who keeps speaking in Gerontius’ head!


----------



## Sandain

Hello,

Thankyou for all your updates!

Can you tell me which sourcebook these Prc's come from please?  I do not have the psionics one so assume some come from there.  Elementalist is your own base class iirc?


Inoke - psiwar, warmind
Lester - elem, warrior of chaos, contemplative, paraelementalist
Baron Lillamere - argent savant 
Sybele - egoist 
Veil Raybender - mindspy


----------



## Brain

Sandain said:
			
		

> Hello,
> 
> Thankyou for all your updates!
> 
> Can you tell me which sourcebook these Prc's come from please?  I do not have the psionics one so assume some come from there.  Elementalist is your own base class iirc?
> 
> 
> Inoke - psiwar, warmind
> Lester - elem, warrior of chaos, contemplative, paraelementalist
> Baron Lillamere - argent savant
> Sybele - egoist
> Veil Raybender - mindspy




I can help with that.

Psychic Warrior is a base class from the Expanded Psionics Handbook.
War Mind is a PrC from the Expanded Psionics Handbook.
Elementalist is a Cydra base class.  
Warrior of chaos is a Cydra PrC. 
Contemplative is from Complete Divine.  
Paraelementalist is a Cydra PrC.
Argent Savant is from Complete Arcane.
Mindspy is from Complete Warrior.


----------



## the Jester

Brain missed egoist, which is just a fancy name for a specific type of psion.


----------



## Brain

the Jester said:
			
		

> Brain missed egoist, which is just a fancy name for a specific type of psion.



Yep, Egoist is a type of Psion which is a base class in Expanded Psionics Handbook.


----------



## Krafus

Now that I'm done with finals, I'm finally free to indulge myself...

I'm still reading and still enjoying. I think story hours with epic-level characters are my favorite. I'm very much looking forward to that... very special event that was mentioned on another thread.


----------



## Dakkareth

That was incredibly cool. Really, I haven't felt like this reading a SH since the last Tales of Wyre update and that was 4+ months ago. The situation, the discussion, the narration, ... the _tension_!  Nice touch with 'transvalent' spells and the mindlink-formatting, too.

I assume, this was _Marius' Deconstruction_ at work?


----------



## hippiejedi2

In the mind linked telecommunication stuff Inoke says that if the party should kill Assmodius then we should try to talk to others (before the deed) and seek a reward.(after the deed)  Well it was actually, go figure, the rogue Gerontius who came up with the idea.  His response to Orbeus was something like "you are a diviner, well...divine."


----------



## the Jester

“What was the scroll?” Lillamere asks.

The vendor looks at him.  “It’s spoken for, like I told her.” 

“Right, I don’t want to buy it; I just want to know what it was.”  He is a very charming fellow when he tries to be, our Baron Lillamere is; and he puts on his best smile now.

“Well, I guess it can’t hurt to tell you.  It was a spell that makes a construct alive and awakened.”

Orbius and Baron Lillamere exchange a dire glance.  Over the _telepathic bond,_ Orbius tells the others, _I’m glad we stopped her... but I wonder what she wanted it for?_  Then he issues a _sending_ to the real Estelias, telling her what he has done.

***

Horbin, over a light meal, issues a _sending_ of his own- to the Tiger Empress, who reigns over the so-called Tiger Lands in the eastern half of Dorhaus.  She is Malford’s rival; they are at war over the territory of Goldstone, which Malford seized long before she could put any people in it.  He badly wants to work out a  peace, for the good of the people of Dorhaus.  

***

Speaking of _sendings,_ Gerontius receives yet another one taunting him.  Fed up, he asks the party to help him hunt down and defeat this Luugi, whoever or whatever he is.  The group naturally agrees; Gerontius is one of their own, and if he’s being threatened by someone else on top of all their troubles with Asmodeus- well.  It seems likely that this ‘Luugi’ is a lesser threat than Asmodeus, and one that the party can likely eliminate, thus allowing them to focus their resources on Asmodeus.

***

As our heroes prepare to leave Sigil for Cydra, they receive another visit from Glaisig.  “Have you considered my offer?” he asks smoothly.  

“We have,” states Baron Lillamere, “and we have some conditions.”

“Indeed?”

The group outlines their demands.  “You must pledge to keep your forces out of Cydra, and to withdraw from the Great War of Ethics,” insists Horbin.  

Glaisig smiles.  “If we are successful, believe me, my master will be too busy with internal affairs to pay attention to your realm for a thousand years.  That is fine.  And as to the Great War of Ethics...”  Glaisig shrugs delicately.  “We have nothing invested in this conflict, and nothing to gain by becoming involved.”

Baron Lillamere nods seriously.  “Then we are agreed.”

“Know this, devil,” snaps Horbin the MFKG Holy.  “We work with you only for the greater good, and you will sink no hooks into us.”

“Horbin, my friend, we seek to sink no hooks into you.  Our interests simply... coincide for the moment.”  Glaisig smirks.  “Now, soon I will contact you.  We will be setting up the opportunity for you to strike.  You will need to be in place on Avernus well in advance, but it should not prove difficult; there are great games being held by Tiamat in honor of her reclaiming of the First Hell.”

“What do you mean?” asks Inoke.

”Tiamat, the Queen of Evil Dragons, once ruled Avernus, the First Hell,” Glaisig explains.  “But she was overthrown by an overgrown pit fiend named Bel.  He held her in a cage for several hundred years.  But then, recently, Bel was slain and Tiamat has ascended to rulership again.  In celebration, she is holding great games in a city on her layer of Hell.”

“Is it going to be safe for us to be there?” Orbius demands.

“Relatively.  There will be many creatures from many planes present.  You will not especially stand out.  And Tiamat is... not happy with Asmodeus.  He was complicit in her overthrow.  She is a tacit ally.”  He frowns.  “But Asmodeus has special elite servants- mortals of unusual power.  They wear a special badge, a fist clutching a ruby rod.  Avoid them at all costs!  But if they see you, it’s too late.  _Strike._  Because you will not escape them.  They will hunt you down if any of them escape.”

“How tough are they?” asks Veil.

”Think about it this way,” Lillamere tells her.  “These are servants of Asmodeus, right?  His elite?  They _could be_ pit fiends.  The fact that they are ‘just’ mortals... it actually worries me a lot.”

***

Our heroes return to Cydra, then _greater teleport_ to Lake Bellurnus, where Orbius’ divinations have revealed that Luugi awaits them.  Soon the party is flying over the lake, looking for any sign of enemies.  Horbin has already cast a _water breathing_ on the party in case they need to go into the water.  Soon after that, they spot dark shapes under the water, and suddenly Gerontius is compelled into the water.  Lillamere _shape changes_ into a black dragon (since he’s seen one with the assault on Lithos) and dives in after, Inoke and Horbin following as the cleric invokes _freedom of movement._

Gerontius swims forward towards the source of his compulsion a murky shape begins to resolve... one huge form, with a half-dozen smaller ones swimming all around it.  The small forms are nearly humanoid, but the big one is what makes Gerontius’ eyes bulge and his heart hammer in his chest. 

Luugi.  Surrounded by a thick cloud of mucus, Luggi resembles a cross between a fish and a slug, easily 20’ long, with baleful red eyes along its front side.  Two long tentacles trail in the water, making weird gestures- and suddenly our heroes find themselves drained by a _horrid wilting!_

“It’s an aboleth!” rumbles the draconian Lillamere, and spews out a gout of acid that washes over the horrible monster, which writhes; and the smaller figures swim in on him.  They swarm over him, clawing and tearing at him to little effect.

Then Horbin steps forward and pronounces a _word of chaos_ that blasts all the skum into oblivion.  Inoke reels, stunned from the power of the word, but Luugi shrugs it off.  The aboleth wizard blows a hole in Lillamere with a _puncture._ 

“Gagh!” cries Lillamere.  “So that’s how you wanna play, huh?”  He _punctures_ Luugi back!  The aboleth contorts as a hole is blasted through its head!

Gerontius shakes his head suddenly.  “Whoa,” he realizes, “I was just going to... _give myself_ to it.”  He shudders.  

“So that was Luugi,” mutters Horbin.

“That’s one down,” remarks Lillamere, “but the _big one_ is yet to come.”

Our heroes return to the air.  “Now what?  The day’s not over yet,” states Inoke.

_There’s got to be a worm gate somewhere near the Temple of Elemental Good,_ Lester thinks over the _telepathic bond.  Let’s go find it and close it._

“Good idea,” replies Inoke.  “Let’s get as much stuff out of the way as we can before our ‘opportunity’ arises, so no loose ends bite us while we’re busy.”

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes assault another chaos gate!


Some of you are probably wondering, _Where the hell did this Luugi guy’s enmity come from?_  The answer is, touching that Chaos obelisk in Var.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Nice update, Jester!


----------



## the Jester

_*The Void*_

Can emptiness churn in turmoil?  Can emptiness be disturbed?  Yes; for in the Void of the Negative Energy Plane, the very fabric of reality churns and ripples.  Great wave of energy radiate out, some powerful enough to breach the fabric of dimensions.  Ever since the destruction of Acererak the demilich and his Phylactery of the Apotheosis* the plane itself has been writhing as the massive energies the demilich had been tapping snapped back into the plane, the Void has been caught in a long spasm.

One particular wave of negative energy washes out through the astral plane, a seething dark sudden wave that rushes through the emptiness of the astral for hours before washing over a huge island of rock.  The negative energy seethes over and into the rock, and much of it seems attracted to the rock.  It settles into the island of matter, pulsing with darkness, and slowly, at its dark heart, the island begins to stir.

At the Fortress of Conclusion, the ethros Remilino, alert to such events, takes notice.  _The disturbances still roil the Void,_ the ethros notes.  _How many more such events will there be?  How long until the titanic forces that Acererak had tamed settle back into their natural quiescence?_

The ethros contemplates.  He only has so long to achieve his goals.  Once the negative realm settles back down, he will not be able to direct enough of it.  But if he can do it- oh, think of it!  It is a bold plan, yes; and only he, Remilino, would dare!  How could a death pilgrim, such as himself, who has skirted the edge of oblivion for thousands of years with the aid of certain Abyssal sponsorship, not take the opportunity to work amongst the seething forces of such a powerful fluctuation in the fabric of death itself?

_In a time like this, new things are possible... things that no lesser mind would coneive of.  New states of existence might be brought into being, and abominations forbidden by divine edict might be able to spawn themselves._  Remilino’s face does not change, remaining somber, but inwardly he feels a surge of fierce joy.  _And I can direct it, with the knowledge in this fortress.  At least to some extent.  Enough to perform an act so powerful that my name will be remembered forever._

He issues a _sending_ to the Void Master Pyrthl.

***

_*3/24/371 O.L.G., 3:40 p.m., the worm portal nearest the Temple of Elemental Good*_

A terrific battle ensues against a pair of deadly unique slaadi and their centipede-like allies that can chew short-lived portals to other planes, allowing them to (for example) add a little elemental fire to their already-horrendous mandible attacks.  Almost immediately, Gerontius falls through the worm gate.  Our heroes show a great deal of determination and zeal in fighting the battle, however, with Orbius casting his newly-learned _sphere of ultimate destruction_ spell, then using it, a _disintegrate_ and a quickened _disintegrate_ against the black slaad adversary the party is facing all at the same time.  Unforntunately, it surives and attempts to _ruin_ Lillamere!  Lester, meanwhile, manages to drop the other slaad with a hammering succession of _fireballs_ and _flame strikes_.  Inoke, meanwhile, slams the _mace of St. John_ left and right, crushing two of the strange dimension burrowing centipede things. 

Several white slaadi join the battle after a few moments, and the party is hard-pressed.  But when Lester’s _meteor swarm_ finally slays the black slaad, our heroes take heart.  Soon Lillamere crushes the last slaad with a _crushing fist of spite_.  Lester jumps through the worm gate after Gerontius, finding himself in the chaos of Limbo, and flies around until he finds his halfling ally.  Then he _plane shifts_ them both home to Cydra.

***

_*Hell*_

_Everything is proceeding according to plan,_ Asmodeus reassures himself.  Yet somehow he is still afraid.  _Of mortals, no less!_ he scoffs.  He can feel the rage building once again.  _Well, my little friends from Erath will help me deal with my Cydran problem.  I have no doubt that my... predecessor... has learned enough to warn his agents about them; but that is irrelevant.  As powerful as they are, the Erathians slew Bel!  Surely these Cydrans are nothing compared to that._

He grins weakly, trying to persuade himself. 

Lucifer was _never_ supposed to be freed!

***

_*4:30 p.m., Var*_

Disaster!

Our heroes return to Var to find the house of Lester’s girlfriend, Reina, on fire.  Without hesitation, the L bursts into the roaring conflagration, rushing through the building looking for any sign of his girlfriend.  He sees no sign of her- but when he reaches her room, his heart leaps into his throat.  

Slashed on one wall, not yet aflame, is a symbol: a fist clutching a rod.

Gritting his teeth, Lester rushes back outside. 

A bucket brigade, aided by our heroes’ magical abilities, takes several hours to put the fire out.  During this period, much to everyone’s relief, Reina shows up in the crowd, extremely distraught.  While most of our heroes debate where to go- it is clear that they are a danger to those around them- Veil and Gerontius decide to visit the shrine of Na’Rat.  Veil’s desire to touch the chaos obelisk again overwhelms his common sense.  But to his horror, when he gets there, he finds that the obelisk has been destroyed!  The priests tell him that the attackers wore badges depicting a hand clutching a ruby rod.

“Crap!  Crap, crap, crap, crap!!!” Veil exclaims.

“Come on, let’s get back to the Three Rubies and meet the others,” Gerontius says nervously.

The two of them walk down the streets of Var, but they’ve gone only a block away from the shrine when Zavael, the same bearded devil who attempted to slay Lester while he was having sex, slides through the shadows towards them.  Unfortunately for the devil, Gerontius’ sharp eyes pick him out just in time, and suddenly Zavael finds himself in a fight for his life with the halfling!  Gerontius slices him good a few times, tumbling into flanking, and Zavael tries to make him flee in fear to no avail.  Then, as Gerontius lands another pair of blows, the assassin vanishes, _teleporting_ away (via _contingency_).  It’s all over so fast that Veil never even has a chance to act.

“What- who- you-“ Veil splutters.

“We’d better hurry back to the others,” says Gerontius.  “We should probably stick together.”

***

Sybele _plane shifts_ the group to the plane of Elysium after trip to the Halls of Healing to deposit Reina and her friends.  There, in an idyllic valley lightly dusted with trees, Alcar _communes.

Will the forces of Lucifer help us against the forces of Asmodeus?_ *Yes.*
_Should we expect an attack upon the casters’ conference, when it occurs?_ *Likely.*
_Should the doppelganger hang onto the six-fingered shield?_ *No.*
_Are we being set up for a trap by the assassins hired by Asmodeus?_ *Uncertain.*
_Do the forces of Lucifer plan a trap against the party?_ *Unlikely.*
_Can the forces of Lucifer be trusted to keep their word?_ *No.*
_Can the forces of Asmodeus be trusted to keep their word?_ *No.*
_Is the Temple of Elemental Good a target of any forces involved in the struggle between the party and Asmodeus?_ *Yes.*
_Does St. John want his mace back?_ *No.*
_Was the simulacrum encountered in Sigil the strongest of Estelias’ sims?_ *No.*
_Will the faerie dragon in the Great Plaid Forest aid me?_ *No.*
_Were I to visit him, would he provide me with immediate aid in my quest?_ *No.*

At last our heroes rest, after an exhausting day.  “Tomorrow, let’s summon Glaisig and make our deal,” says Inoke grimly.

“It is a mistake to deal with devils,” _St. John’s mace_ opines.

_That’s so true,_ think both Horbin and Alcar.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes journey to Hell, gamble and meet a new type of inevitable- the ejukhaut!


----------



## Knightfall

Excellent stuff. Just caught up, with this one, after some time away from reading story hours. (Been busy writing updates for my own story hours, plus my monster threads, plus two gaming groups.)

Keep it up, J.

Cheers!

KF72


----------



## Krafus

Aah, further epic-level mayhem...  Fun to know that Asmodeus himself is becoming worried about the heroes. I wonder if those "little friends" from Erath a reference to a certain event you've alluded to?


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Great Update ME!


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

It was indeed nice work


----------



## the Jester

*Gambling in Hell*

_*3/25/371 O.L.G., 9 a.m., outside the Temple of Elemental Good*_

With a tinkling sound the glass of the pocketwatch breaks.  There is a moment of swelling silence, and then Glaisig is there, tall and thin, his diabolic features, as always, composed in a featureless enigma.  

The bargain is quickly struck.  It is strictly self-preservation for our heroes; if they can’t strike him down, Asmodeus will hunt them until he kills them.  They will not have children (or more children, in the case of Sybele and any others that might have unknown progeny out there somewhere).  They will not see their dotage.  They will probably not even see whatever celestial reward they have earned.  More likely, Asmodeus- or his forces- will slay their bodies, steal their souls and condemn them to total annihilation or, worse still, eternal, neverending torment in the realms of the damned.  No, it is far better to ally with one devil to oppose another, especially when concessions can be wrung from the ally now to prevent more trouble later. 

Our heroes do present a demand to Glaisig, to present to his master, Lucifer: the forces of Hell must guarantee to withdraw from the Great War of Ethics.

“Of course, I cannot speak for those of other factions,” Glaisig responds smoothly.  “As we have discussed, my master will be far too busy pacifying Hell to worry about your plane.  He will have his energies bent to that task until it is complete.”  He smiles thinly.  “We will certainly agree to remain without your plane, unless summoned or called, for a thousand years.”

A certain amount of legalistic haggling ensues, during which Sybele can’t help wishing her old gnomish lawyer friend, the wizard/sorcerer guy, you know, what’s his name?*- can’t help wishing he was here to help iron out the formalities.  Nonetheless, soon enough our heroes have made their deal with the devil.  Only time will say whether they regret it.  

Then Glaisig takes them to Hell.

***

_*Noon, Pesh City*_

Marius the Chronomancer grimaces.  _Damn worms,_ he thinks.

The mess all on the flagstones of the great central marketplace is gruesome.  Between the shattered debris of the market stalls, the bloody fragments of bodies and the massive bulk of the destroyed chaos worms, it will take a considerable clean-up effort to restore the market to useability.  _Either that, or personal attention,_ Marius sighs inwardly.  He has so many demands on his time... how ironic, that a chronomancer should be so worried about time.  

But there is so much to do, and so much of it cannot be done from the sanctuary of his demiplanes or the Citadel of Eternity!

Marius _disintegrates_ a large blob of worm-flesh, then summons a temporal nihlist.  Instructing the strange outsider to dispose of as much of the mess as it can, Marius _greater teleports_ back to the temple of Coila.  

_My Goddess,_ he prays fervently, _I have made sacrifices to your altar of magic and dust.  I have given you the spells I have developed, that bring your followers closer to time.  And I have achieved greatness, moreso than any other of your followers.  Now you must heed me!  Please, my Goddess, desist in your folly.  You must see reason.  If you do not, you will have to be destroyed.  You must join the side of Law._ 

Will she hear his prayers?  Certainly; Marius is sure of that.  Will she heed them?  Unlikely.  But the thought of Coila being cast down from the lofty heights of godhood makes Marius shudder. 

_She won’t be the only one,_ thinks the Chronomancer.  _The Judge of Worlds has been very busy._

***

Glaisig, disguised as a devil called “Red Scab,” escorts our heroes to a place to stay, staffed by tieflings.

The city is astonishing.  

It must host millions of individuals.  Most of it built in honor of Tiamat’s games, it is crammed full of all sorts of creatures.  Though dominated by infernal denizens, there are a thriving number of mortals, other planar creatures, and stranger things still.  There isn’t much sign of chaotic forces, save the quivering six-fingered hand impaled on Veil’s shield (which the doppelganger carefully keeps out of sight).  

“It should be pretty easy for you to keep a low profile, but try not to act like Hicks,” Glaisig advises.

“What’s a Hick?” asks Inoke.

The party’s diabolic adviser sighs.  “A hick is a very backwater individual.  There’s a land called Hickistan, the most backwater territory on a plane full of backwaters.  Basically, a Hick is someone who is... well... clueless.”  Glaisig smiles grimly.  “Try to keep your mouths shut as much as possible.  And whatever you do, remember- watch out for the sign of the fist clutching the ruby rod.”

“What do we do if we encounter them here?” asks Sybele.

“Try to avoid being seen, but once they see you, strike hard and strike fast.  They are the most elite of Asmodeus’ servants.  Once they have seen you it is too late to evade them; they must be slain before they can call on even stronger reinforcements.”

Shortly, Glaisig leaves our heroes, and they spend a few moments applying disguise magic.  As they are leaving to look around the diabolic city, Hellgate, Lillamere comments, “You wanna know what worries me the most about these ruby rod guys?”

“What’s that?” Gerontius replies.

“These are Asmodeus’ elite killers, and they’re mortals.  Think about that.  He’s got probably millions of pit fiends, yet these guys are better then the best of his pit fiends.”

Inoke starest at the Baron.  “That is a very good point,” he admits.

***

Over the next few hours our heroes abuse divinations like they have rarely been abused before, heedless of the consequences.  After all, why would Hell have any motivation to watch for people using divination magic to cheat at gambling, especially when massive festivities on the level of these celebrations are going on?

Right.

Anyhow, Orbius’ divinations lead our heroes to some stellar success betting on the nightmare races (the winner, with a 4:1 payoff, is Hooves of Magma).  A succession of other bets suddenly sees most of our heroes in possession of large sums of money.

And what a place to have some disposable income!  What a great place to go shopping!  In a place like this, much like Sigil, you can find almost anything for sale if you look hard.  Thus it is that a few of our heroes buy some rather nice pieces of equipment.  After winning around 300,000 gp, Gerontius buys a _manual of quickness of action +5._  The chance to make some scratch by cheating Hell at gambling plays on Horbin’s conscience, but he thinks of the good things he could do with the gold. _The Halls of Healing need a paint job and it always needs supplies. The poor of Var and Thule all need food and clothes._  Conscience assuaged, Horbin too takes part.  Lillamere’s ‘investment’ nets him around 300,000 gp as well; an outlandish shopping spree ensues, with the Baron buying items including a bunch of Infernal wine, cloth from the Elemental Plane of Fire, "Dragon's Breath" hot sauce and other goodies. He also picks up several magic items, including a _mantle of mind blank_ and a _ring of spell penetration +4_.  Lester and Orbius also bet heavily, naturally, and come out of it with nearly one million gold pieces.  They practically go crazy, buying several _metamagic rods_, _manuals, ioun stones_, and scrolls with a variety of powerful spells such as _limited wish, prismatic wall, sphere of ultimate destruction,_ and a few others.

Inoke doesn’t gamble at all, frowning at such things.  Between the nature of gambling, the fact that they’re on Hell, and the fact that they’re cheating... well.  He just doesn’t feel it would be right.  The _Mace of St. John_ would no doubt chastise our heroes as well, were it not now secured in a _glove of storing._  Inoke tries to persuade Sir Maxwell to likewise refrain, but Max finds the potential joy of cheating Hell too good to resist.

The big winner, though, is Sybele, who bets all her money and wins, then rolls it over and does it again twice more.  She ends up with an unbelievable sum, which she promptly spends on an extraordinary bow called _Cracker._**  When all is said and done, she is very happy with her purchase.

It’s as our heroes are wandering the markets, pretty much done but looking for anything else worth buying, that they are accosted.  

_*Next Time:*_ Cheating in Hell?  Send in the ejukhauts!  


*Remember, Sybele (thanks to Chaos effects) cannot remember proper names.  She is, of course, thinking of her old friend and adventuring companion Zeebo Swaysack, ‘the Mayor,’ who featured prominently in Agents of Chaos and the Politics of Tirchond.

**Pronounced CRAK uh.  _Cracker _is a _+6 collision seeking exit wound thundering mighty [+8 str bonus] composite longbow._  If I’m not mistaken, this was the first time our heroes had found anyone capable of making epic weapons, with the possible exception of Fandral the Mage-Smith (who knows what he can do?).


----------



## the Jester

In the markets of Hell, where there is blood up to one's ankles flowing in the streets, one can find almost anything.  Amongst the throngs of devils and blasphemers, it seems that it should be easy to be unnoticed.  And yet, amongst that same throng, how many of those same devils and blasphemers are spies and secret police?  Perhaps not so many now as there will be in the future, since Tiamat’s re-ascension is yet new and fresh; yet certainly there plenty there.  And spies for others, as well- oh, yes; it is more than likely that Asmodeus has spies here, that Baalzebul has spies here, that Mephistopheles has spies here.  Who knows; anyone could have spies here.  There are certainly enough spies for one to spot our heroes and alert a pair of ejukhauts.

The inevitables move to the market, sensors fully alert; and when they spot our heroes the move to attack, beginning to shimmer strangely as a humming field envelopes their forms.  

***

Alcar spots them first.  The two inevitables are rushing forward.  They are strange assemblages of metal and glass- skeletons of beams and rivets, with lenses scattered around the upper portion, bristling with spikes and blades, hissing with steam and crackling with energy. The two constructs move suddenly, gears within them whirring and clanking as they rush forward.  Long spikes poke out from them in all directions.

Alcar cries, “Stand down, machines!”  He invokes the _righteous might_ of Galador and swells to large size.  

_Try not to fight them!_ Horbin warns over the _telepathic bond_ that Orbius has forged amongst the party.  _We don’t want to attract any attention!_

The party begins initiating various powers.  Lillamere _shape changes_ into a pit fiend.  Then...

*BUDDABUDDABUDDABUDDA!!!*

Several of the strange spikes poking from the ejukhauts begin firing slugs of metal at incredible speed!  Alcar and Lillamere are both sprayed by the weapons, which deals significant damage.  

_Never mind,_ Horbin warns over the link, and casts _flame strike_.  It _whoomps_ down, enveloping one of the inevitables in a blast of golden flames.  It’s barely singed.

Gerontius scowls to himself.  _They’re constructs; they don’t have organs,_ he reasons.  Then he smiles.  Time to use a magic item!  He thrusts a fist at the ejukhauts and fires a _sunray_ from the _ring of radiance_ he acquired a while back.  It fails to harm the construct, however, seemingly fizzling out where it touches the ejukhaut.  Gerontius swears, then keeps firing.

Our heroes were not expecting battle here on the streets, and are unprepared.  Most of them require a few moments to initiate their enhancing magicks, psionic abilities and magic items, to draw their weapons and to move into position.  The inevitables are not so unfortunate.  They are ready.  A _chain lightning_ rips through the party (though both Gerontius and Chakar manage to avoid it completely) while the second one attempts to blast Inoke with a spell of extraordinary power and leave him _nailed to the sky,_ but he resists.  The party members that try to strike them with metal weapons find their weapons are being repelled by a powerful force.  Sybele’s arrows keep flying wide, so she instead vomits up a stream of acid at one of the inevitables!  It hisses and sizzles, melting part of the creature’s torso, and the ejukhaut staggers back a pace.  Horbin blasts a _fire storm_ at the two monsters, and though it damages one of them, each of them uses a _repair critical wounds_ on itself, then returns to the attack!  One of them slashes out at Veil with a sword-arm, slicing him badly.  The mindspy staggers back, leaking fluids, and cries, “Someone, repair me!”*

Then Inoke slams the two constructs together, pushing them back into a vendor’s display and knocking them (and the display) over.  He and Alcar leap forward, smiting the prone ejukhauts brutally, bending their frames and shattering lenses.  Lillamere shifts into the form of a black dragon and belches a gout of acid at the ejukhauts, and then follows that up with a _disintegrate._  In a flash of light, one of the constructs vanishes, leaving only a fine dust behind!  Inoke crushes the last one beneath _St. John’s Mace_, then immediately conceals the artifact of Galador in his _glove of storing_ again.  It would certainly not do to be caught with that on Hell!

“Let’s get out of here, quick,” suggests Veil, “before any of the authorities come to check us out!”  

“Good idea,” agrees Horbin.  “Where’s our guide?”

“Who knows?  She ran off while we were fighting,” Lillamere replies.  

“Our inn is on the other side of the huge arena,” Sybele states with a smile. 

The group hurries along the street, soon passing into the shadow of the huge arena.  The noise from within the bowl of the arena is deafening; even outside, in its shadow, even over the _Rary’s telepathic bond,_ it is almost impossible to communicate.  It is loud enough to make our heroes’ heads ache and their eyes water.

And then, rounding the corner in front of them, come a group of mortals wearing armbands with the sign of a ruby rod clenched in a fist.

_*Next Time:*_ Storming Hell!!! 

*Remember, Veil, too, is a construct.


----------



## the Jester

For those not in the know already:

The post above ends on the same cliffhanger point as the game did.  The pcs all knew that the next game was a super-special gaming event taking place in an undisclosed location.  Once we got together that evening, we drove to my friend Ruben's house where at last our fiendish plan culminated.

Ruben runs his own epic 3.5 dnd game, you see, and for about four months we had been conspiring and planning a campaign crossover party-v-party extravaganza, which none of the players were in on until the moment it happened (though one or two had put it together by then).  

In short, his party is the guys with the armbands, currently working for Asmodeus and hunting my guys, who have been duly warned by the forces of Lucifer.  We're about to get ugly, folks.  As any long time dnder will tell you, the worst possible foes in a dnd game are other pcs.  Much less an entire party of epic pcs.

The next several posts will cover this extraordinary event.


----------



## Greybar

Ooh.  Oh My.  That won't be pretty.

Now we get to see a real battle of wills.  I won't be surprised if one of the two things happens:
* One group quickly realizes it is outmatched and bails as fast as it can.
* Neither group gives way and massive PC casualties result.

Bad news for "our" guys is that they're just coming off a fight already, that's got to be a CR-1 type modifier off the bat.

Can't wait to hear it.  First epic spell to succeed wins?


----------



## Krafus

Oh _yeah_. The epic-level PCs confront perhaps their worst possible enemy: another group of epic-level PCs. This is going to be a fun read...

The Jester could you state what were the races/alignments/classes/levels of the other DM's PCs? I'm curious to know just what kind of opposition your party faced.


----------



## Knightfall

This is going to be awsome!  

It's like RAW verus Smackdown*, but way better, more epic, and, of course, D&D.

Perhaps the two groups will come to an agreement and turn on the devils. Of course, this depends whether or not the other group are playing "totally" evil PCs or not.

KF72

*This show died, I think. Hopefully that won't be our heroes.


----------



## hippiejedi2

*Chaos Updated*

Gerontius never actually had to get ankle deep in the blood covering Hell because he is an Air Subtype, Fly 20ft Perfect, thanks to the Obelisk of Na'Rat.

Another chaos gift is speaks with a French accent.  I took it quite liberally so not only does he speak with a French accent, but he would have to use the expression "pardon my French" very, very often.

You have to go to Hell be4 you get to Heaven


----------



## the Jester

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> Perhaps the two groups will come to an agreement and turn on the devils. Of course, this depends whether or not the other group are playing "totally" evil PCs or not.




Well, just to remind you of something important in the scene here... 



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> The noise from within the bowl of the arena is deafening; even outside, in its shadow, even over the Rary’s telepathic bond, it is almost impossible to communicate.




Mwah-hahahaha!!!!  



			
				Krafus said:
			
		

> The Jester could you state what were the races/alignments/classes/levels of the other DM's PCs? I'm curious to know just what kind of opposition your party faced.




Sure will, just before the next post.


----------



## Knightfall

the Jester said:
			
		

> Well, just to remind you of something important in the scene here...
> 
> Mwah-hahahaha!!!!




You're a rat bastard, I hadn't considered that.  

BTW, you don't mind if I pimp this here, do you? After all, I know you're a fan and I want to make sure you're getting your latest fix.

I'm hoping to pull in some more readers for my story hour. Of course, feel free to pimp your Cydra story hours in my main story hour thread. It's good stuff, and might as well double hook our readership.  

Looking forward to the next "butt kicking" post.

Cheers!

Robert "KF72" Blezard


----------



## Sandain

Does your friend Ruben have a story hour?


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Great Update ME!!!!!


----------



## the Jester

Sandain said:
			
		

> Does your friend Ruben have a story hour?




No, I don't think he's on the boards very much.

I'm actually trying to touch base with him about a few details before I finish the next update.


----------



## the Jester

This is the beginning of a very special game.   Expect another update prolly tomorrow.  This one takes you only through one person's action in the first round of the fight, but it also adds some backstory involving some events the pcs are participating in in the game I'm running in about half an hour.

That said, the 'other party' consists of:

Albin, 24th level rogue 
Kyrion, 24th level cleric
Jared, 24th level ranger
Bennodel Thiyr, 24th level elven monk
Grimdim, 3rd level dwarven paragon/21st level fighter
Lazenby, 24th level wizard

Though they are outnumbered, they have a number of other things going for them: a more consistent level and a higher level on average, plus a fair amount of backup that they weren't even aware of.  As to how it all works out... let's take a look.

***


On the Material Plane- on _two_ Material Planes- the stars are aligned.  A rare and powerful conjunction is occurring, right now, 

***

Seclaidra watches through her lashes as the heroes travel along the blood-clogged streets of Hell, moving amongst stalls and tents staffed by fiends of myriad descriptions.  She keeps her distance.  Though it is unlikely that even Orbius, servant of Boccob, could pierce her insrutability, she takes no chances.  She has survived for eons; she will not make a foolish mistake and allow a mortal to slay her easily now!

For she recognizes the threat these mortals pose.  Some of them, she has watched for years.  Horbin the Holy, for one, and he is ripe for a fall; arrogant in his belief that his wisdom outweighs that of the entire heirarchy of his church.  Sybele, the warrior of Chaos, now stricken with an inability to remember peoples’ names.  That is surely the most amusing thing of all.  Lester- she has watched him for more than a century, ever since he fell in with Dexter.  

In a way, she wonders if she might have seen him billions of years ago, when he went _back_.  But his travels changed the events that came after; would that even be the same Seclaidra?  Obviously not, for she remembers him not- and she forgets nothing. 

_The time is nigh!_  The thought comes from the fool who thinks himself Asmodeus’ chief assassin- Zavael the Cruel.  He has to scream telepathically to be heard above the roar of the huge arena next to them.  Seclaidra does not answer him; she already knows.  She can see the other group coming closer.  Her wings flex lazily as she spirals above the streets our heroes walk through.  The din of the games shakes the ground momentarily as something spectacular happens within the walls of the arena.  

Zavael, fool that he is, is no doubt shouting for Seclaidra to act.  She knows it is time.  The two groups are about to come into view of one another.  She draws forth a relic of a lost reality, a thin tapering glass wand.  She directs it at the party that contains Lester, Horbin and Sybele, and just as the other group rounds the corner, the _veil_ draping our heroes falls apart.

Instantly Seclaidra shifts to a better location.  She has no interest in being there when the sparks fly- _any_ of the sparks that will come out of this.  She has now discharged her half of the arrangement.  She appears far away, over two hundred miles distant across the blasted surface of Avernus.  There, she receives her payment in larvae from an obsequious bone devil.

From there, she returns to the Abyss and her Halls of Black Silk to watch the results.  As she reclines on a cushion, she wonders if Asmodeus’ plan will work.

***

Zavael, Asmodeus’ chief assassin (or so he believes) watches cautiously from the fiendish crowd.  The enemy is approaching the corner, just as are the Erathian force.  With a malicious grin, Zavael watches as the _veil_ that has been hiding our heroes is dispelled just as the mortals wearing the fist clutching a ruby rod come round the corner.

Between the winged Lester and the large Sybele, the heroes stand out in the throng around them; but Zavael looks essentially the same as any other bearded devil around him.  He remains unnoticed.

_Heh heh,_ he chuckles to himself.  _Fools!  You may have survived _my_ attack, but now... now you face the killers of Bel!_  Then he issues a telepathic command to the squad of ice devils awaiting his command, screaming telepathically to be heard over the tumult of the arena.  

***

_It’s them!_ Lazenby thinks with a shock.  He recognizes them instantly, from their description: the blue halfling... the “celestial” and the winged half-elf... the cat-helmed warrior.  _They outnumber us,_ he realizes, _but can they possibly outpower us?_

It takes his mind only an instant to calculate the best opening move; but it is an instant he does not have.

***

_It’s them!_ Orbius thinks with a shock.  He recognizes them instantly by the badges they sport: the sign of a fist clutching a ruby rod.   _We outnumber them- but they’re the best Asmodeus has to offer._  In an instant his mind calculates his best possible opening move, and then he casts _time stop,_

A frozen tableau, all around him.  He _greater teleports_ near the enemy group, flits up above them and establishes a _prismatic sphere_ in mid-air.  To finish the combination off he casts _reverse gravity_ amongst the enemy.

_This is going to be ugly,_ he thinks, as time begins flowing again.  

_*Next Time:*_ Pc vs. pc goodness in all its glory!


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Albin, 24th level rogue 
Kyrion, 24th level cleric
Jared, 24th level ranger
Bennodel Thiyr, 24th level elven monk
Grimdim, 3rd level dwarven paragon/21st level fighter
Lazenby, 24th level wizard

Dude, what can you say, ya know???  We did get to see the ceremonial sign-in sheet after these guys had put their names/character levels on them (I think we left alignment blank) and I must say this . . . in game, out of game, or whatever, I am a highly skilled, balls to the wall adventurer who occasionally likes to taunt the monsters/DM ust to provoke a better fight.  (All in good fun, of course.)

The sight of their sign-in made my stomach turn!  

Yeah, OK, . . . Acereak the Demi-Lich, ancient Black Dragon Lithos, or Black/White Slaadi ultra-chaos team - no problem!  

Party of 6 (primed for) Epicl Level PCs coming to fight us?  Uh, . . . hope I don't go last!  (I'd like to get at least one action in . . . )


----------



## the Jester

With a cry, most of the Ruby Rod party falls upward into the air, caught by Orbius’ _reverse gravity._  Inoke is impressed to note that _all_ of the ones that enter it evade the damage from the initial three layers of the _prismatic sphere_!  

Snapping into the air, Kyrion tumbles end over end.  Her hair streams out above her as she falls to the top of the area of the _reverse gravity,_ and she grimaces as she sees Lazenby first petrify and then vanish.  _He was sent to another plane by the sphere,_ she realizes grimly.  Another of her companions screams and dies as he passes through the poisonous layer of Orbius’ sphere.  _Jared!_ she curses.  _All right, that’s enough of this!_

Orbius winces as he recognizes the passes that Kyrion is making in the air.  _Mordenkainen’s disjunction,_ he realizes sickly.  The Eye of Boccob braces himself.  The _prismatic sphere_ vanishes, as does every ward and protection Orbius is sporting.  Sickly, he watches as Grimdim the dwarf swims up at him through the air.

“Hi!” the dwarf smiles, and slices the Eye of Boccob nearly in two in both directions with a series of incredible blows.  Orbius falls like a rag doll, then dangles on the border of the remaining _reverse gravity_ area.  Grimdim, the enemy dwarf, walks easily through the air, and then he reaches the edge of the _reverse gravity_ and drops down to the ground.  Without even breaking stride, Grimdim picks up speed, barreling towards Horbin the MFKG Holy, his axe naked in his hands.  _Uh-oh,_ thinks the cleric.

Alcar, meanwhile, feels a strange sensation, and he realizes that a new spell Orbius had laid upon him is activating.  It is called _anticipate teleport_, and it warns him when someone is teleporting to a location near him and delays their materialization for a few moments.  _Someone’s coming,_ he warns over the party’s _telepathic bond_, but nobody hears him due to the noise from the vast arena in whose shadow the fight is taking place.   

Suddenly, from the shadows, Zavael the Cruel strikes, stabbing Jezebel in the back of the neck with his terrible glaive!  She staggers with a scream no one can hear, and collapses, dead.*  Sybele screams, and again no one can hear, but her mental shout carries.  _MY DAUGHTER!!_

Horbin casts fast and furious, using quickened spells to add to his defense while he unleashes a _fire storm_ on the enemy.  To his amazement and dismay, all of them evade it.  _I really don’t like the looks of this,_ he thinks uneasily.  _These guys are _tough.

Baron Lillamere (_shape changed_ into a pit fiend) brings down a _crushing fist of spite_ on Grimdim, who simply takes the blows.  He is stout enough to be sublimely unconcerned with it.  Lillamere gulps as Horbin and the dwarf clash for a moment, and by sheer luck, Grimdim’s foot slips and his blow misses.  Then Gerontius bounds in, trying to get into position to attack the dwarf, but Lillamere grabs him and _teleports_ into the midst of the main group of enemies.

Inoke, Alcar and Sybele, meanwhile, have turned to face Zavael, who is looking around for his devil assault squad.  But the _anticipate teleport_ has prevented their arrival!  Frantically, Zavael fends off Alcar’s main attack, but Inoke deals him such a blow that he’s reeling.  Sybele fires at him with Cracker**, screaming words that cannot be heard over the thunderous arena, and Zavael gasps as arrow after arrow sinks deep into him.  Finally, one pierces his foul black heart and Zavael, (supposed) chief assassin of Asmodeus, is no more.

It is only _then_ that his diabolic hit squad finally arrives, and a sequence of _unholy auras_ and _cones of cold_ ensues, which Inoke steps up to deal with.  Alcar, too, launches himself at the fiends; he has no love for devils at all.  The _Mace of St. John_ sings hymns as it whips into first one ice devil’s head and then another’s.

Sybele, however, turns to the enemy group across the way.  She extends her psionic ability to _control sound_ around Kryion, muffling her ability to make noise and trying to prevent another _disjunction_ from wreaking havoc on our heroes.  

Bennodel, meanwhile, studies the situation with a frown.  He sees the infernal strike force materialize near Inoke and Alcar and decides to take advantage of the moment.  He _abundant steps_ into position, but when he arrives, he hesitates.  _Something strange is going on here,_ he thinks uneasily.  

Lester rushes forward at him, his blade slicing through the air.  Bennodel moves an inch and the blow misses.  The Elementalist tries again, stabbing right for the heart, but the epic monk with the ruby badge barely shifts his stance and the blow misses again!  Lester curses, his voice overwhelmed by the roar of the crowd, and shouts, “Asmodues has got you duped!  Stop right now or I’ll turn you to soup!”  But he is unheard.

***

_The Court of Asmodeus_

Asmodeus’ court 

The courtiers are cleared away, except for Martinet of course.  The guards are put on alert.  99 pit fiends are stationed around it.  No one would dare assault this place without a major planar army, and even then they would be hard-pressed to survive.  Asmodeus is disposing of several outstanding titles that once belonged to Bel’s agents, but now must needs return to other hands, when a slight tiefling messenger hurries up to him and whispers something in his ear.

“Clear the court.”

Asmodeus’ commands must be heeded, instantly.  Even Geryon himself departs without question.  Only Martinet lingers, signaled by his master’s gesture.  

“It has begun.”  

In the lowest level of Hell, Asmodeus’ eyes burn bright, reflected the ruby rod he clutches.  A smile tricks the edge of his mouth.

_*Next Time:*_ The battle continues!

*Failed save vs. massive damage, I believe.

**Her new super-studly bow, acquired with the funds won via divining about infernal races.  Pronounced CRAK-uh.


----------



## Greybar

Ouchie!  Two down on each side (Orbius/Jezebel vs. Jared/Lazenby) (three for the ruby rod if you count Zavael), though the plane-shifter might be right back again theoretically if there was any contingency to un-petrify.

Did Albin vanish himself for the first round and wait?

So both sides lost wizards - that probably helped the rest of the fight from going nuclear in quite the same way.

(oh, and Sybele remembered a name?  Was that a mistake, or a side effect of something else going on?)

Fun fun fun!


----------



## the Jester

Greybar said:
			
		

> (oh, and Sybele remembered a name?  Was that a mistake, or a side effect of something else going on?)





Oopsie!  Thanks for catching that!


----------



## the Jester

Sir Maxwell Norrington’s blood sings as he strikes down one fiend after another.  The cadre of ice devils is not falling back due to him alone, though; Lester, Inoke and Sybele have all done their parts as well.  Certainly, the combination is one that is breaking the ranks of the devil squad and will quickly lead to a route- if that monk doesn’t ruin it all.

Frost bursts in chilling cones around Bennodel (“that monk” to Maxwell’s mind) and the villains he’s fighting, but he slips away, evading the frost, steps past Lester and strikes down one of the devils in a pair of swift chops with his hand.  Inoke, beside him, crushes another one even as Alcar invokes a _holy aura_ to surround himself, Lester and Inoke.  

_Something is not right,_ Bennodel thinks again.  He feels very uneasy.  _Why are they using a _holy aura_ if they serve the Dark One?_  He tenses as both Lester and Inoke move in on him, and then he leaps up and back, spinning over the top of a building, away from the deafening arena.

_That was some jump,_ Inoke thinks, and leaps after his foe, also clearing the building’s roof in a single bound. 

Grimdim grimaces dourly.  He chuckles inwardly.  _These are our first worthy foes since Bel,_ he thinks.  _Agents of the Dark One!  They must be stopped!_  He turns on Veil, who gulps and raises his shield, but a slash from the axe tears the mindspy nearly in two.  Then the dwarf whirls towards Sybele, recognizing that she is focused on Kyrion and that Kyrion seems unable to cast spells.  _That’s about enough of that!_ Grimdim thinks.

The next thing Sybele knows, the savage dwarf is on top of her, striking with incredible fury.  She yelps and _psionic teleports_ far enough away to survive- but the dwarf spots her and begins advancing again immediately.  Her blood pours from his axe to join with that choking the streets.  _He hurt me surprisingly badly,_ she realizes.

Lester turns on the dwarf and begins to unleash the fury, using his new metamagic rods of quickening.  He blasts two _meteor swarms_ at the dwarf, and Grimdim simply soaks it up. 

He shouts at Lester.  Though the Angel of Adventure cannot hear his words, he can read lips well enough to know what Grimdim is saying.

_Is that all you got?_

Meanwhile, Albin and Gerontius are dueling, knives vs. sword, a duel of finesse and expertise.  The sound of their blades crossing cannot be heard over the roar of the games, but if it could it would be remarkably delicate.  Neither wastes a move; each acts with the sort of precision and finesse that requires years of experience and training.  They are both blurs.

Each lands a blow or two, but neither can slip through the other’s defense easily.  When Kyrion lands a blow across the halfling, and he momentarily turns to fend her off, Albin manages to sneak one in; but then Gerontius tumbles back, getting a little distance, and grins.  

_Evenly matched._  He shakes his head ruefully.  _This guy is the best rogue I’ve ever met, unless you count Asmodeus’ freaky faceless assassins._  He grins again.

Kyrion, meanwhile, falls back a few paces.  She can’t speak, thanks to the _control sound_ that Sybele is using to keep her from casting, but she has noticed a number of things that just aren’t adding up.

_That celestial over there,_ she thinks, _he has invoked a _holy aura_.  That doesn’t make sense.  Unless..._

Gerontius tumbles in again.  He leapfrogs past a sweeping blow of Albin’s, landing froglike next to Kyrion.  She braces herself for an attack, and the halfling slashes in with a dagger.

The blow is perfect. 

It slices in and out again, cutting out the target area, and as it leaps free of Kyrion, Gerontius snatches it out of the air.  

Her badge of the Ruby Rod. 

Gerontius looks her in the eye and shouts as loud as he can.  She can’t make out his words at first- but his intent is clear.  

He offers her his pipe. 

Not far away, Inoke comes down in a loud crash in the midst of a garbage heap near an infernal fruit stand.  Bennodel stands impassively, watching him.  There’s a lot of cover between here and the arena, leading to a lot less noise here; when Inoke moves cautiously forward, the monk cries out loudly, “Something’s wrong here.  I have a feeling we’re being duped- all of us!”

Inoke hesitates.  “Then why do you serve Asmodeus?”

The monk winces.  _”Don’t say that name!_  And we don’t, not exactly.”  His eyes narrow as he stares hard at Inoke.  “And I think your group has a lot to answer for.”

“My group!” exclaims Inoke.

Out front, Sybele notes that the battle has seemingly teetered to a stop, at least for the moment.  She switches her _control sound_ to allow conversation, dimming the unceasing noise from Tiamat’s Games. Grimdim is still coming forward like a mad juggernaut, but Kyrion cries out, “Grimdim, no!”

The dwarf draws up short, scowling.  

“I think,” Kyrion says, “that we have been tricked.”

***

“Are you sure this place is secure?” asks Inoke again.

“Absolutely,” reassures Bennodel.

The two parties have returned to a demiplane the ruby fist gang (which is _not_ their own name for themselves, but it is a convenient identifier for our purposes) have the use of.  Our heroes are more than a little nervous; they have no reason other than their new tentative allies’ words to trust the demiplane’s safety.  Yet-

“What about that fishmonger?”

The fishmonger and his friends were more diabolic agents.  They had seemingly been some of the agents keeping the ruby fist gang (“Don’t call us that,” their cleric said again) on the trail of our heroes.  But once they realized that the two parties had figured it out, the game was up, and the fishmonger and his friends had made an attack on the combined force.  They were no match for the group- not even close.

Now the two parties compare notes.

Our heroes tell the other group their tale.  “Well, it all started when we defeated this pit fiend and saved a phoenix egg that it had captive.  We had known for years- well, some of us anyhow- that after the egg was retrieved, it would hatch in a year and a day and grant us a _wish._  Unfortunately, it turned out that it was kept bottled up, so to speak, as part of a deal that we unwittingly broke.  That deal released the guy who came before Asmo-“

_”Don’t say his name!”_ the entire other group cries at once. 

Bennodel explains.  “He knows.  If you say his name, he can hear it- and what you say immediately afterward.”  He grins sheepishly.  “We’ve been calling him ‘the Big A’ to avoid letting him know all our plans.”

“Go on,” Kyrion urges.  “Tell us the rest.”

“Wait a minute,” interjects Grimdim.  “They released the guy who came before?  Does that mean who I think it means?”

“He once ruled Hell; call him the Big L,” Lester replies.

“We need Lazenby back,” Albin comments.

“And we could use Orbius and Jezebel,” retorts Horbin.  “Well, I can _true resurrect_ them tomorrow if you can come up with the necessary diamond.”

“Not necessary,” responds Kyrion primly.  “I’ll bring them all back- no diamonds needed.”

“Well, but to bring them back at full strength, unhindered by their time across the veil-“ Horbin starts.

“No diamonds needed,” repeats Kyrion.  She smiles.  

“Your tale,” Albin prompts impatiently.

“Hold on,” Sybele says.  “We might as well get their two guys, and my daughter and our wizard guy back first, otherwise we’ll just have to tell it all over again.”  

Albin leans over and whispers to Gerontius.  “Does she have a problem with names or something?”  The halfling only laughs.

Soon the two groups have recovered their friends.  A _break enchantment_ restores Lazenby to human form, and he is quickly appraised of the situation.  Then, not long after, Kyrion _true resurrects_ all the dead- no diamonds required.

“How did you do that?” Hobin asks.  She tries to explain, but it’s convoluted and it seems like it would require a considerable amount of devoted study to achieve.*  Still, he is grateful for her lessons, and he in turn tries to show her the basics of an unusual spell he knows, called _thunderous blows._**

Then, finally, our heroes relate the rest of their story.  They tell of their release of ‘the Big L’ (“it starts with Luci and ends with the stuff you line cold weather gear with, you know, not hair...”) and of the sudden complications of having the Big A out to get them.  Assassins, _scrystrikes,_ it’s generally not a very good deal for anyone.

“So the Big L offered to help us set up an ‘opportunity,’” Alcar spits.  “And we’re going to kick the Big A’s ass.”

“Meantime, we were warned about you guys,” Inoke picks up the thread.  He explains that the group had been led to believe that they were the Big A’s elite agents.

“Well, not exactly,” Albin replies.  And the other group begins their tale.

_*Next Time:*_ The other group’s perspective!  Let’s compare and contrast our two groups!

*Which is to say, she has the epic feat Ignore Material Components.    

**This was really cool, actually- a Cydra spell migrated to another campaign world in game!


----------



## the Jester

For the record, so far this adventure went exactly as we dms had planned, JLA vs. Avengers style: the fight... and now...

The team up.


----------



## Brain

I think Sybele brought Jezebel back to life with _Psionic Revivify_ and she may have done the same for Orbius.


----------



## the Jester

Brain said:
			
		

> I think Sybele brought Jezebel back to life with _Psionic Revivify_ and she may have done the same for Orbius.




Maybe- Rob thought that was possible, but I recall the conversation about the Ignore Material Components feat fairly distinctly.  I could be wrong, but Rob's memory of the event (from what he posted on the group) was not super clear, nor is mine.  Call it dramatic license if you must.   I know Horbin the MFKG Holy got schooled in cheap _true rez_ techniques that day, which (I think) is one of the things that prompted him to teach _thunderous blows_ to Kyrion. 

Sad that the fishmonger's barely a footnote, eh?


----------



## hippiejedi2

The cut/grab combo by Gerontius to get the Ruby Rod Badge was a natural 20.

Gerontius figured the badge may have been the cause of the other party's allegiance to the Big A (magic is tricky), and if not, well at least they would get the message, one way or the other.

Good job of both the quantity and quality of your posts Jester, keep em comin.


----------



## Greybar

Good stuff.

What frightens me is the caliber of opponent that the combined GMs will have plotted to confront *TWO* epic PC groups.  What's that, 11 epic PCs and cohorts or so?


----------



## the Jester

Kyrion, Albin, Jared, Bennodel, Lazenby, Grimdim- their names are famed throughout Erath.  They have faced down many terrible enemies, from entire guilds of assassins to that cursed kuo-toan priest-queen, and they have earned the accolades and friendship of many nations, churches and organizations of their world, Erath.  They have even negotiated a possible deal with their arch-enemy, the Dark One, to spare the lands of human and demihuman from a terrible orcish horde.

Contrast this with our heroes, who, as Lester confides in the Erathian heroes, have been kicked out of or made enemies of many places and organizations.  And the Church of the Light, of course.

“They aren’t our enemy,” Horbin protests.

”Their High Priest is, sort of,” Sybele says, “you know, that one guy?  Who rules Forinthia, right?”

Anyway, the Erathians explain that, on their world, the orcish homeland was ravaged by a magical accident they themselves witnessed when they time traveled to the past.  The orcs could no longer live in those lands, and thus their great leader, the Dark One, arose to lead them forth in a terrible war on more hospitable lands, to claim as their own.  It gets complicated from there, but the Erathians eventually learned a few key relevant facts.

For one, there used to be _ten_ Hells, but the Big A “compressed” the Tenth Hell when he took over.

”That must be when he banished or bound the Big L,” suggests Orbius.  Lazenby nods.  

Eventually, after a series of adventures with the clock running (the Dark One had only given them a month to solve his lands’ problems), the heroes of Erath found themselves in combat against the Lord of the First Hell, Bel.  With Tiamat in a cage secretly aiding them, they managed to destroy the Arch-Devil and free the Chromatic Dragon.

“That was _you guys?_” exclaims Sybele.

“Impressive,” grunts Inoke.

Alcar merely mutters an imprecation about Bel.

Since then, they’ve been following the trail of some deadly villains- or so they thought.  “Desecrated churches, a trail of corpses, murders and villainy of the blackest sort: it all led us to you.  But it is now obvious that the whole thing was a set-up,” Bennodel explains.  “We should never have listened to the Big A or his agents at all; they manipulated us masterfully.”  He appears tranquil, but Grimdim seethes with anger.

Orbius and Kyrion are discussing an interesting conundrum.  “How come we’ve never heard of each others’ home planes?  I’ve never hear of this ‘Galador’ or anything, and from what you tell me he is important enough on a planar level that I should have,” the priest says.  Orbius and her get into a very esoteric discussion about abstract planar theory.  While the rest of the party exchanges tales, the two of them work on the question, and eventually they arrive at a conclusion.  Their planes must be very far apart, part of different cosmologies completely.  The planar layout that Orbius knows is not precisely the same as Kyrion’s.  But they share the Nine Hells.

”That must be the connection,” Orbius reasons.  “And if the proper conjunction ocurred, our realms might come within reach of one another.”

The two parties discuss what to do.  “We were relying on the Big A for help,” Jared remarks, “but that now seems much less like a good idea.”  

“Well, the Big T is kind of a behind-the-scenes supporter of us,” comments Bennodel.  

“The Big T?” asks Sybele.

“You know, lots of heads, dragon?”

“Oh, gotcha.”

Lillamere says, “Well, that helps us avoid immediate trouble.  But surely you realize that the Big A will be after you now- and trust us, that isn’t a good thing.  He can strike you through the planes, and it hurts a lot.  Maybe you should consider helping us against him.”

“Well, we can beat the _scrystrike_- we have an artifact that produces a 10’ radius _mind blank_,” Lazenby replies.  

“Yeah, what’s in it for us?” Albin demands.  “Why should we help you?  Attacking the Big A sounds like suicide to me!  How many thousands of pit fiends does he have?  And how many can he summon to do his bidding?”

“Oh, we can reward you,” Orbius smiles.  He proceeds to tell them about the party’s winnings, using divination magic to cheat at gambling. 

The Erathians are aghast.  “Cheating at gambling!  That’s... that’s...”

“That’s brilliant,” laughs Gerontius.

”Seriously, you can make a killing,” Veil says with a big grin.  “Good money to be made, that’s for sure.”

“Just pony up the money and we’ll do the rest,” Lester chortles.  “Your reward is only limited by your ability to invest!”

“Think about it, you’re cheating _Hell,_” Orbius says.  “How can that be wrong?”  

Slowly, the Erathians become more and more interested.  Eventually, they accept the idea, but Bennodel can’t help but wonder whether associating with these Cydran loose cannons will lead his party to more and more compromises.

“I say we help ‘em, regardless,” Grimdim rumbles.  “I got a thirsty axe and there’s someone who tricked us all needs talkin’ to.”  He grins a mad dwarvish grin.

_*Next Time:*_ Assault on Asmodeus!!!




***

Another interesting contrast between the Erathian and Cydran parties that my group later remarked on was that the Erathians are all single-classed except Grimdim, who has the dwarven paragon class plus fighter, whereas of my group, most have 3+ classes with the notable exception of Horbin.  However, that doesn't fit well in the context of an update... thus a little annotation here at the end.


----------



## the Jester

Odds are high for a second update today.  This one is a tease.

****

Tensions are high.  The two parties have joined forces, and now they will act as one.

Never, in all the history of the Nine Hells, has such a powerful group of mortals walked together here with one purpose.  Never, in all the history of the Nine Hells, has Asmodeus been under such threat.  

In the depths of Nessus, Asmodeus obliterates a messenger in a terrible rage.  

_The forces of Lucifer are on the move._

One and a half million pit fiends surround the palace.  All forces are placed on alert.  The entire area is placed under a _dimension lock_ to prevent unexpected surprises.  The floor golems are awakened, the prismatic traps engaged.  

Asmodeus, in his fury, destroys another ten pit fiends, then snarls and whirls and stalks to his throne room.

_Lucifer!_ 

It should be impossible- yet there it is, an army rolling forward at the unbreachable walls of his fortress.  Treachery!  Many of the ancient devils that recall Lucifer’s reign from before have thrown in with him.  He has moved very quickly, adroitly maneuvering events, perhaps even outmaneuvering Asmodeus. 

Well, in force of arms, Lucifer’s army is doomed.  They are neither numerous enough nor potent enough to overcome Asmodeus’ pit fiend defense.

Asmodeus frowns.  _What is he playing at?  There must be some trickery afoot- some kind of feint or misdirection.  But what?_

In his throne room, he keeps the presence of his daughter Glasya, who can always soothe his white-hot rage with her moist kisses; Martinet, obsequious little Martinet, the courtier to end all courtiers; his favorite great wyrm; and eighteen stout pit fiends, armed and armored with _+5 greatswords_ and _+5 full plate._

***

Glaisig leads our heroes through secret ways that are unknown even to Asmodeus.  There was a time when all the Hells were Lucifer’s, and secret warrens burrow through many places that have yet to be discovered in the modern age.  They cross from one layer to another, some even opening onto other planes.  

Our heroes, all _seventeen_ of them,* follow the Hidden Minister along a long dark stair that leads to a narrow, hidden passage.  That in turn leads to a secret door to a chamber that leads down another long flight of stairs.  After an interminable climb, our heroes find themselves at the back side of yet another secret door.  

“Now we enter his palace proper,” the devil warns in a low voice.  “His guards and agents, save for whatever personal guard he has, should be out of the way.”

“Your ‘distraction’?” inquires Inoke.  

Glaisig nods in reply.  “From here you are on your own.  Go straight until you have descended two flights of steps, then turn right down the blood marble hall.  At the end of that take the hall to the left; that will lead you to the doors to the throne room, where you will find ‘the big A’.  When you are done, I will come to aid you in escaping.”

After Glaisig leaves, the party advances into the Palace of Hell.  Everywhere, gold and the finest gems are inlaid in everything.  The architecture is both magnificent and cruel- the art depicts the suffering of the damned, of course, and lechery and sin of many sorts.  

Orbius and Lester have _foresight_ going, which prevents them from triggering a number of deadly traps.  One is particularly fiendish, and by coincidence resembles Orbius’ tactical use of _reverse gravity_ against the Erathians, but it also includes poisoned spikes and green slime, as well as a _primatic wall._

Finally, our massive group of epic heroes reaches the large set of double doors Glaisig had indicated as being the entrance.  

_I can't believe we're doing something this suicidal,_ Horbin thinks incredulously.

Deep breath. 

And let’s go.

_*Next Time:*_ A _really frickin’ epic fight._

*Including cohorts, of course.


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

More posting darnit!

Stupid cliffhangers 

(Some really nice stuff once again, Jester)


----------



## the Jester

Sollir Furryfoot said:
			
		

> More posting darnit!
> 
> Stupid cliffhangers
> 
> (Some really nice stuff once again, Jester)




 Everyone just left from doing character creation for my low-magic experimental campaign... working on the update now!  I'll post it in the next hour or so.


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

That's awfully amusing because I'm doing the same exact thing basically.  My high level, near-epic game has been on short pause to start a new, low level, low magic one   My group just finished their first adventure over the course of 2 sessions and it's proving to be good fun.  Good luck with your new campaign!


----------



## the Jester

*Storming Hell- Finale*

Never has an adventuring party warded and enhanced themselves so heavily.  _Holy aura, righteous might, expansion, freedom of movement, shapechange, mass far strike, mass elasticity, cat’s grace, bear’s endurance, mass true sight, protection from fire, protection from acid, protection from cold, mind blank, stoneskin, greater stoneskin, fly, piercing clarity, holy sword-_ the list goes on and on.  One or more of them has each of these enchantments laid about them.  And there are more, far more.

Finally, as our heroes fairly crackle with eldritch energies, Albin, with the aid of a _Marius’ moment_ bestowed by Orbius, picks the lock sealing the massive double doors.  He then motions to the combined party’s warriors.  Lester, Sybele, Grimdim and Inoke put their shoulders against the doors and throw their weight against them.  The stench of brimstone rolls out over our heroes.

There is no need to hold back, no advantage to be gained by conserving resources.  This is _it,_ this is do or die.  This is the big one.  This is when reputations are forged forever; this is when heroism is really established.  This is no turning back.

The vast doors fall open and reveal the scene ahead: A huge throne room, sprawling away in all directions.  Great pillars stretch along the sides of the chamber and a carpet of red satin edged in gold thread leads from the entrance to a the massive and threatening _Throne of Hell._  The walls are draped with spectacular tapestries, edged in precious metals, set with stones.  The high ceiling is frescoed with scenes of evil and deviltry, from betrayal and greed to posthumous torments.  Nearly twenty fully armed and armored pit fiends, arrayed in ranks in between the heroes and their target, who reclines sanguinely on the throne in the back.  Next to him, a beauteous fiend resembling an angel with cute little horns leans insouciently against the wall.  On the other side of her is a simpering courtier of a fiend, whom the more planar-savvy of the party instantly recognize as Martinet.  In the forward corner slithers a gigantic red dragon.

There is no moment of hesitation, no pause, no attempt at parlay.

Immediately, there is battle.

Several of our heroes rush forward only to be caught in the terrible furnace-like heat of the dragon’s breath weapon.  White-hot flame blasts all around them, the air itself incandescing.  There are several screams from the party, but then Inoke moves to engage it.  Grimdim charges forward for Martinet.  Lillamere flies upwards and hits the dragon with a maximized _cone of cold,_ but the dragon’s own eldritch defenses prevent it from being harmed. 

Orbius casts _time stop,_ both empowering and maximizing it with the _greater metamagic rods_ he picked up with his ill-gotten gains from the gambling scheme, and the shennanigans _really_ begin.  

The largest cluster of pit fiends is in the center of the chamber, directly in between the party and Asmodeus.  There are a dozen close together.  _Perfect,_ Orbius thinks, and begins casting a series of _prismatic walls-_ in essence creating a prismatic box holding the pit fiends in.  _With the whole area _dimensionally locked,_ they won’t even be able to teleport out,_ the Eye gloats.  

Another maximized _time stop_ follows immediately after he emerges from the first, and now he casts and reads from scrolls a series of _spheres of ultimate destruction._  When time starts to flow again he’s ready, and four deadly black voids travel towards the devils opposing our hereos.

*BOOM!! BOOM!!*  A series of explosions lances through the heroes as the untrapped pit fiends launch quickened _fireballs_ and several fire off _meteor swarms_ as well.  Another attempts to _implode_ Lazenby, but the wizard shakes it off.  

Inoke pounds the dragon with the _mace of St. John,_ dealing a series of incredible blows to it.  Veil dances in to flank it and Lester leaps into the fray with it as well.  The dragon struggles with them for a moment, but the adventurers facing it are the most puissant of two worlds.  Inoke pounds at it and Lester’s electrically-substituted _fire storm_ finishes it off.  Above, high in the air, Lillamere turns his attention to Asmodeus himself, smirking ironically as he invokes one of his most powerful spells, _crushing fist of spite._  The fist pounds down at the chair, but Asmodeus doesn’t even move from his throne.  _He must have resisted it,_ Lillamere thinks in dismay.

The pit fiends, more than half their number taken out of the fight by Orbius’ _prismatic box_, fall back under withering missile fire from Sybele and Jared.  Kyrion, Horbin and Sir Maxwell rush a pit fiend and slay it.  The devils are on the defensive!

***

Asmodeus watches the battle through the eyes of his _projected image_ and snarls.  _How did this happen?_  He clutches the ruby rod at his side and licks his ruby lips.  He will _not_ be overcome by mortals!  Their clever trap for his guards is the problem, and there is only one way to deal with it quickly- a _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_.  

But if he does _that,_ Asmodeus will also encompass the wards he has put up himself in the _disjunction!_  He grimaces, watching as the dwarf hacks Martinet to pieces, and decides that, perhaps, it would be best to cancel the _dimensional lock_ to give his pit fiends the ability to _teleport_ free of the box.

_But what if that is what Lucifer wants?_ Asmodeus wonders, and curses aloud.  It does not matter; he must see to his own escape.  It is increasingly looking likely that he will have to _run._ 

Then something happens that makes his eyes widen.  

Veil’s shield, with the six-fingered hand spiked to it, begins to glow.  And then a beam of purple light shoots from it to the northeast corner of the throne room- _right where the secret door leading to Asmodeus’ true self is._

It will take too much time anyway- nearly a minute- to release the lock.  _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_ it is, then.  

***

The _spheres of ultimate destruction_ flit back and forth, blasting one pit fiend into oblivion.  Lillamere exterminates another with a maximized _disintegrate._  The courtier Martinet doesn’t stand a chance against Grimdim; the dwarf cuts him down with the same contempt he would treat a goblin, then he turns to advance on Glasya.  The unending stream of missile fire continues to tear into the remaining pit fiends. 

Then, suddenly, there’s a sickly ripple of white light as the _disjunction_ shoots out, eliminating one side of the prismatic trap Orbius has captured the other pit fiends in.  They start to pour out, but Lazenby is too fast for them.  He flits into the air and gives out a _wail of the banshee._

The fiends of the pit cannot withstand the terrible blast of eldritch sound.  Seven of the twelve caged by the _prismatic walls_ fall dead!  The other two quail even as Lester blasts them with a pair of electrically-substituted _fire storm._  The blasts also catch Glasya, behind them, and another of the surviving pit fiends.  To Lester’s delight, Glasya jerks through an electric dance before falling dead to the marble floor!

Asmodeus’ face contorts.  “GLASYA!  NO!!!” he cries in rage.  His eyes glow orange.  

“Watch out!” Inoke cries as he comes into view.  “That’s not the real him, it’s just some kind of illusion!” 

Lazenby grimly hits the _projected image_ with a _greater dispel magic_ before Asmodeus can cast through it, and the image winks out.  “But where’s the real deal?” the mage cries.

“There!” responds Lillamere.  He gestures to one corner of the room- where the glaring beam of light from the shield given to Veil by Graz’zt has outlined a door-shaped crack in the wall in purple.  And just as our heroes begin to surge towards it, the door is flung wide and Asmodeus strides forth, his ruby _rod of Hell_ held high above him.  He screams inarticulately in rage, preparing to unleash a devastating mystical assault on our heroes.

“Cut off his escape!” cries Jared, felling another pit fiend with his bow.  Sybele stands next to him, with Jezebel behind them both, casting spells to aid them should they be attacked.  

Orbius _time stops._

Everything freezes in place around him.  First he hits Asmodeus with another _disjunction,_ shaping it to get only him.  Then the Eye of Boccob chants and gestures, and another _prismatic wall_ appears behind the Lord of the Ninth, cutting off his retreat through the secret door.  

Then time is flowing forward again, and it’s all on Inoke.

He pours it on, thundering towards Asmodeus, the _mace of Saint John_ tight in his hands.  He has lived, worked and trained for years to make the most of his charge; and as he charges the Arch-Devil, he prays he has done enough.*

_*WHAM!!  WHAM!!  WHAM!!*_

Inoke careens into Asmodeus with obscene force, hitting him with such incredible strength that the devil’s body flies back into the _prismatic wall_ and his head smashes free of his body!**

Asmodeus is no more.

_*Next Time:*_ Oh, it’s not over yet!  Our heroes must still escape from Hell!


*I’m sure I’m missing some of the charge power-ups Inoke had going, but I know he had a fully augmented _psionic lion’s charge_, I know he used the _heedless charge_ function of his tactical feat to _take a penalty to AC_ instead of to attacks with power attack, and he power attacked for his full BAB.  I believe he also Power Lunged, and used his _chain of overwhelming force_ warmind ability.  In other words, he pulled out all the stops.

**Yes, Inoke decapitated Asmodeus with a blunt weapon.  He dealt over 700 hp of damage from that charge.  Holy crap!


----------



## arwink

That, officially, rocked my world.  Epic level goodness at its best.

As a random aside: Jester, exactly how many homebrewed spells and items are your players carrying around at any given moment?


----------



## Cheiromancer

Jester,

Have you house-ruled disjunction?  It has been used a couple of times now, and I haven't seen anything about magic items being destroyed.

Oh, and in case you forgot, your story hour totally rocks!


----------



## Brain

the Jester said:
			
		

> *I’m sure I’m missing some of the charge power-ups Inoke had going, but I know he had a fully augmented _psionic lion’s charge_, I know he used the _heedless charge_ function of his tactical feat to _take a penalty to AC_ instead of to attacks with power attack, and he power attacked for his full BAB.  I believe he also Power Lunged, and used his _chain of overwhelming force_ warmind ability.  In other words, he pulled out all the stops.
> 
> **Yes, Inoke decapitated Asmodeus with a blunt weapon.  He dealt over 700 hp of damage from that charge.  Holy crap!



Yeah, it was 781 damage dealt in 5 hits, the last being a critical.  I literally had a whole page list of the spell effect up on Inoke in this fight. (I'll post the list when I get home from work today) When one of the enemies _Greater Dispelled_ Inoke, it took a couple of minutes of rolling to figure out what was dispelled.

Edit: Here is the list of spells and effects Inoke had up around the time of the battle.
Contingency - Plane Shift - verbal trigger
Mind Blank
Seeming
Heroes Feast aftereffects
Death Ward
Dispelling Buffer (psi)
Mass Stoneskin
Gaze Screen (custom?)
Energy Adaptation (psi)
Elasticity (custom)
Steadfast Perception (psi)
Greater Stoneskin (custom)
Protection from Spells
Schism (psi)
Invisibility
Haste
Cat's Grace
Bear's Endurance
Greater Concealing Amorpha (psi)
Expansion (psi)
Offensive Precognition (psi)
Offensive Prescience (psi)
Synethsete (psi)
True Seeing
Protection from Fire
Holy Aura
Shield of Faith
Empowered Augment Weapon - Electric (custom, cast twice)
Spell Resistance
Fly
Rary's Telepathic Bond
Bless
and one more that I can't read

Some of the stuff overlaps, but this just serves to give an example of how crazy the preparations got.


----------



## the Jester

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> Jester,
> 
> Have you house-ruled disjunction?  It has been used a couple of times now, and I haven't seen anything about magic items being destroyed.
> 
> Oh, and in case you forgot, your story hour totally rocks!




No- I _like_ destroying magic items!  Well, Orbius got caught by one of the _disjunctions_ but lost nothing important.  Iirc, nothing worth recounting got destroyed.


----------



## the Jester

arwink said:
			
		

> As a random aside: Jester, exactly how many homebrewed spells and items are your players carrying around at any given moment?





Er, tons, at least in the high-level campaign.   (I honestly can't be more specific than that.)  Epic levels are _all about_ customization imho.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Nicely done, Jester.  That fight was a ton of fun!

Say, since we all had true seeing up, was there something that kept us from seeing Asmodeous' projected image for what it really was?

-AoA


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Nicely done, Jester.  That fight was a ton of fun!
> 
> Say, since we all had true seeing up, was there something that kept us from seeing Asmodeous' projected image for what it really was?
> 
> -AoA




Mostly line of sight (the crowd) but also those epic wards that he had to _disjoin_ to free his pit fiends.


----------



## the Jester

*Escape from Hell!*

The stars slip out of alignment.  The conjunction ends as quickly as it began.

***

The head of Asmodeus lands with a wet thud, next to Grimdim’s boot.  He grins a feral grin.  The huge corpse of the dragon lies battered and bloodied; the pit fiends are all fallen; Martinet and Glasya are slain.

Grimdim says something, but Inoke can’t quite hear him.  He seems to be... fading.  As Inoke looks around, he realizes the same thing is happening to Bennodel, Lazenby, Jared and Kyrion.

“What’s happening?” cries the warmind.  “They’re... disappearing!”

“It must be the conjunction,” Orbius reasons.  “Our worlds are too far apart- we don’t share much in the way of a planar cosmology.  While the conjunction was in effect we could meet, here, in Hell, which both of our realms have contact with.  Once the conjunction has ended, we’ll be too far apart to interact even here.”

“It was good getting to know you guys!” Horbin shouts.  _But you need to loosen up a little,_ he adds mentally.  

“What now?” asks Horbin.

”Loot!” cries Gerontius.  His eyes are on the rod of ruby that Asmodeus had clutched.

“There is no time.”

Our heroes look up to see Glaisig standing in the doorway, next to the slain dragon.  “You must realize that every alarm in the multiverse is going off right now.  You must come quickly.”

“Let’s just take the rod,” suggests Gerontius.

”Fool!” hisses Glaisig.  “Would you allow him to _return?_”  Gerontius recoils.  “The _rod of Hell_ must be destroyed- and the only one capable of doing so is my Master.”

Our heroes are rooted with indecision for a moment.  The halfling drops to Asmodeus’ body and begins stripping it.  “I’ll just take the rest of this, then,” he says.  “He doesn’t need it any more.”

“We must go _now,”_ urges Glaisig.  “There is no time for this foolishness!”

“All right, all right!”

The party hurries through the Palace of Hell on the heels of their guide.  In the distance the sounds of battle are plain.  They wrap themselves in illusion and shadow, trying to avoid being detected, and at one point they are nearly found out by a pair of mighty pit fiends; then at last they reach a strange sealed hatch.

“The entire palace is under a _dimensional lock,_ and the surrounding environs are heavily guarded against planar travel as well.  However, there is a portal that will allow you to escape the warded area, and from there you can _gate_ or _plane shift_ home.”  Glaisig gestures at the portal.  “You must first pass through the sewers of Hell.”

“Great,” groans Lillamere.

“You have done very well.  My master shall not forget your aid.”

“Your master is a devil, and you are a devil, and we want no thanks from either of you!” exclaims Alcar.  

Glaisig merely bows.  “Hurry,” he urges.  “I must away.”  He turns and strides off, heading elsewhere in the palace.

Horbin mutters darkly.  “Devils,” he groans.  “I hate devils!”  Alcar and Sir Maxwell both nod agreement.  

***

The sewers of Hell are foul beyond words.  The filth is horrendous.  This is literally some evil sh*t.  Our heroes move as fast as they dare, trying to avoid touching anything, and the burbling sounds all around them are enough to make them queasy.  Combined with the unearthly fetor, it is stomach-churning.  

Our heroes see several shapes moving in the distance or under the effluvia, but they try hard to disturb nothing, make little noise and expose themselves to nothing that might be a creature.  They move through hours of winding tunnels, following Horbin's _find the path_.

Finally, they near the exit- but before they can reach it, a terrible watery beast rises from the thick flow below them.  It seems to be almost like a water elemental, but when it slaps a huge wave against Inoke, he forgets everything he knows.

“It’s a _Styx elemental!”_ cries Orbius.

The party destroys it, Lester using his new collection of _metamagic rods_ to good effect and softening it up.  It is Sir Maxwell who deals the final blow.  The whole time, Inoke cringes back from the fight, crying out, “What’s going on?  Where am I?  Somebody tell me what’s happening!”

After the battle the party tries to settle Inoke down, and Horbin manages to _restore_ his memories.  With a sigh of relief, our heroes move to the large sewer grate that leads out to the surface of the Ninth Hell: a blasted landscape, covered with jagged stones, scarred with fire and blood.  The stink of sulphur taints the air.  The wind is like a blast furnace.  Thick dark clouds hang close overhead.

As our heroes emerge from the sewers, flying to the ground well away from the stench, Vaxaleth, Terror from the Skies, comes screaming out of the clouds at them!  A huge, dragon-shaped force of pure corruption and evil, Vaxaleth glows red-hot as he tears through the sky towards the party.  He has been set here to guard against their escape by those still loyal to Asmodeus.  And Vaxaleth is mighty, more than capable of overcoming any but the mightiest opponents.  Flame and unholy energy vomit from its mouth, burning Veil, Sir Maxwell and Alcar, all of whom cry out in terrible pain.   

The party scatters.  Orbius _time stops_ and erects a _prismatic sphere_.  Then he creates a _sphere of ultimate destruction_ as the flow of time picks up again.  The party scatters to avoid all being caught in another blast of the breath weapon, while Vaxaleth vanishes from sight in the clouds above. 

Orbius fires a volley of _seeker missiles,_ which streak up into the clouds, but it will be dumb luck if they find the dragon like this.  Orbius mulls the difficulty of the cloud cover, and uses a _limited wish_ to disperse them.  Horbin follows this up with a _miracle_ to grant _mass flight_ to the party, allowing them considerably more mobility.  Lester, meanwhile, hammers Vaxaleth with a lightning-substituted _flame strike_.  This he follows up with a maximized, lightning-substitued _meteor swarm._

That’s enough.  The _seeker missiles_ streak in as the corpse begins dropping like a huge scaled stone.  Vaxaleth, Terror from the Skies, is no more.

Quickly the party returns to the _find the path_ Horbin has going.  Soon it leads to what is unmistakably a portal: an arch of interconnected bones, seemingly growing from the bare ground.  In the distance, there is the rumbling din of a great battle.  

“All right, let’s go!”  Grinning- can it be that they’ve succeeded and are going to escape?- Horbin takes a deep breath.  _Thank you, Dexter, for helping us to perform these great works in Your name!_ he thinks, and steps through the portal and vanishes. 

Alcar follows- but to his surprise he passes through the arch and to the other side, not being transported anywhere. 

“There must be some kind of portal key!” Orbius declares.  “Something Horbin had, or did...”  Quickly he performs a simple _divination_ and ascertains the answer.  “Humility,” he says.  “You must be humble.”

“No problem,” Veil nods.  _Thank you, Graz’zt, for your aid is destroying this great power of Law!  I am ever your humble servant._  Veil steps into the arch and vanishes.  One by one, most of our heroes do the same, each schooling themselves to humility in their own way.  Lester has a little trouble- his ego is the size of  a house- but the real difficulty comes when Inoke walks through- and the _mace of St. John_ drops behind him, unable (or unwilling?) to pass through.

Alcar tries to talk to it, to explain to it that it must place its faith in Galador and humble itself, which is ironic since Alcar has failed to pass through thrice by now.  But try as he might, the Angel of Food cannot persuade the mace, and when Alcar finally _does_ pass through the archway, the _mace of St. John_ passes from our story- at least for now.

But let us remain, after our heroes have departed, for a few hours.  Let us watch the _mace of St. John,_ alone on the ground, half a mile from the smoldering corpse of Vaxaleth, the Terror from the Skies.  Soon there are shadows flitting above it, as the battles continue to expand, and diabolic forces clash and fight against one another in the sky.  Terrible spells are cast, claws and teeth tear at fiendish flesh, minds are shattered beneath the weight of crushing psychic powers.  

Finally, one devil, badly wounded and exhausted, spirals down next to the archway.  It is pursued by another, larger devil, who has smashed the wing and weapons of the smaller one.  

Limping back, the smaller devil cannot avoid a crushing blow from its adversary.  It is knocked sprawling, and directly at hand there is a weapon- a mace!  It raises it up, blocking the death blow, and sweeps its attacker’s feet out from under it.  The two struggle for a moment, and the smaller devil sweeps his new mace into the larger devil’s face, smashing him down.  

For a moment the wounded little devil stands over the body of his assailant.  He is shaky and wounded.  He glances upward; there is a battle he should be participating in going on up there, but...

He looks around at the carnage.  He looks at the blood on his hands.

He looks at his new mace.

Anger flares, but not the constant hateful rage he usually feels.  This is more... righteous.  He will _not_ partake of the slaughter today.  He has had enough of it.

He storms away.  The _mace of St. John_ continues its work.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes have escaped from Hell- but they aren’t quite done in their dealings with Glaisig.  What will be... their reward?


----------



## Greybar

Hmm. Now at half their numbers, most of their top spells and scrolls already spent, and it looks like a dragon was waiting for someone on the escape route.

Nah... I'm sure Lucifer will be a nice guy.  Right?

(How many Spheres of Annihilation scrolls is Orbius packing, anyway? Sounds like a good thing to have around.  Any big downside?)


----------



## the Jester

Greybar said:
			
		

> (How many Spheres of Annihilation scrolls is Orbius packing, anyway? Sounds like a good thing to have around.  Any big downside?)




Several scrolls, and he was packing several of the spell (_sphere of ultimate destruction_).  It's not quite as deadly as an actual _sphere of annihilation_- check it out, it's in Complete Arcane (converted from the 2e PO: S&M book).


----------



## Cheiromancer

I take it that from the other party's point of view it was our heroes who faded out?

It is very smooth, how you got them to part with the Rod of Hell and the Mace of St. John.  And good in-game reasoning as to how the portal is little-used; devils are not known for their humility!

A very nice update.


----------



## Greybar

Oh, and I'd love to see your take on Asmodeus in your monstrous thread.  Obviously you've advanced him using 3.5 epic rules instead of the BoVD book version - besides the risk that your players might be a bit too familiar with the book version of him.

Man - plowing through pit fiends like they were mooks - that's a definite sign of epic level play.


----------



## the Jester

Greybar said:
			
		

> Man - plowing through pit fiends like they were mooks - that's a definite sign of epic level play.




Let me just reiterate- pit fiends with _+5 everything._


----------



## Brain

The parting with the Mace of St. John was very smooth on James' part.  I even unwittingly supplied a perfect reason for it to be left behind.  Inoke humbled himself by asking the Mace to lead him through the portal as it had led him spiritually.  The mace was an interesting NPC to talk to and very outspoken compared to Inoke's helmet that speaks to him only rarely.  (how many of you even know or recall that his helmet is sentient?)


----------



## hippiejedi2

Well Done J


Perhaps you could post stats for some of the baddies, somewhere else of course, I remember the dragon encountered on the escape was tough.

Instead of looting Assmodeus & company we should have looted the pit fiends. By loot that meant we took the corpses with us. Our party got Martinet and Assmodeus, the Erathians got Glasya.


----------



## the Jester

*Odds & Ends*

_3/30/371 O.L.G., Noon, Var_[/b]

Spring in Var.  The trees are beautiful, much fuller than they were just a few years ago.  The scars of Fuligin’s time fade slowly.  New life is budding everywhere.  Little chicks are chirping in the trees.  Young men and women are courting.  

And the Devil is dead.

Oh, sure, another will take his place; and maybe someday that other- let’s call him the Big L for now, eh?- will come to be recognized as _the_ Devil; but until then, our heroes can bask in triumph.  No challenge they have ever overthrown has left them feeling like _this_ before.  No dungeon, villain or adventure has written their names in the history books for all times until now.

They killed Asmodeus and lived to tell the tale.

Quite a list you guys are accumulating there, fellas.  Between the various accomplishments of our heroes, they have been the destroyers of Acererak the demilich, Fuligin, Felenga (the Dark One), the fiend of Blendorag, Imix (Prince of Elemental Evil Fire), Lithos the black dragon... and now Asmodeus.  All powerful beings capable of shaping history- and all now of them have been slain by our heroes.  

What’s next?

When a _sending_ from Glaisig reaches them, telling the party that he will bring them their reward the next day, the party puts their heads together and discusses things.  The idea of betraying Glaisig is brought up more than once, but Lester points out that there’s got to be someone in charge in Hell.  At least with Lucifer (‘the Big L’) it is a known quantity and someone who has pledged to respect Cydra for a long time.

They _mass teleport_ into the hills out of town, some 40 miles north by northwest of Var.  They are arguably in Ketzia now; that should prevent any repercussions from harming Malford’s kingdom.  There they set up camp.

***

Alcar seeks solitude.  Seated upon a high flat rock, he closes his eyes and turns his face to the afternoon sun.  He sighs.  

Once, he had a powerful magic backpack- a _backpack of infinite food_.  It was lost to him over a decade ago, but he still seeks it.  He must earn it back from his superiors in Heaven.  Inwardly, he scoffs- the bureaucracy is offensively pervasive.  Galador Himself has given Alcar his blessings in the past.  Why can’t the bureaucrats see that he’s okay, that he’s walking the path and helping people?  All he wants is the return of his backpack- surely the killing of Asmodeus makes him worthy of that!  Alcar breathes deep, stilling his mind.  Deeper and deeper he falls into prayer.  Eventually, he _communes._

_Is there anyone in Heaven I can speak with for the return of my backpack?_ *No.*
_Have I done anything to be worthy of the consideration of the return of it in the last few days?_ *Yes.*
_Is there anyone on the Material Plane I can talk with about this?_ *Yes.*
_On Dorhaus?_ *Yes.*
_In Var?_ *No.*
_In Ketzia?_ *Yes.*
_Within a mile?_ *Yes.*
_Would they consider me a heretic?_ *Maybe.*
_Are they at the closest temple of Galador?_ *No.*
_Is it the King of the Faeries?_ *No.*
_Is it a fey?_ *No.*
_A celestial?_ *No.*
_A mortal?_ *Yes.*
_If I fly west will I find them?_ *No.*

Descending from the divine trance, Alcar lets out a deep exhalation.  _Within a mile,_ he thinks, startled.  _But who could it be?_ 

***

While they wait for Glaisig to make his appearance, Orbius _identifies_ the loot that they have.  It includes a variety of interesting items, including a _staff of paralysis, an amulet of natural armor +4, +2 unholy speed glaive, ring of protection +5, ring of wizardry (3rd level), a mirror of scrying, bracers of armor +4, ring of concentration +10_ and _gauntlets of poison._ 

Then, finally, the devil appears, dressed differently than they’ve seen him.  Though fashionable, he had been faded; now his clothes are glossy with newness.  He smiles at the party.  A large sack is at his side.

”Thank you again, my friends, for doing my master’s work,” he says.

“We aren’t your friends, and I’m sure whatever deal you have for us is something we’ll reject, so can we just get on with it?”  Horbin, clutching his new _staff of paralysis_ grimaces.

“I come to offer no deal, my friends; only gifts- gifts from my Master.”  

“We want no gifts from devils!” exclaims Alcar.

“Hey, hold on a second, what kind of gifts?  Speak for yourself, not for me,” retorts Gerontius.  

“Items of great and singular power.”

“Hmm... I like items,” Gerontius declares.

“There, you see?” Glaisig says to Horbin, his tone soothing.  “Surely you would not deny my gifts to your friends.  Decline if you must, but at least let me show you first.”  Slowly, he reaches into the bag.  When he withdraws his hand he holds a dagger, which he presents to Gerontius.  The halfling almost swoons as a sense of the deadly power in it floods through him.

“Wow,” Gerontius croaks.  He examines the dagger closely.  “This is great.  It wants to kill undead, elementals, oozes and constructs!”

Glaisig smiles broadly, thanking each of them for their aid in serving his Master.  Each of them receives a gift; even Horbin accepts a mace. 

And when it is Alcar’s turn, Glaisig pulls a backpack from his bag.  The half-celestial gasps.

”You have wanted this for a long time,” the fiend purrs.  “A _backpack of infinite food._  Think of how many lives you might save, how many hungry people you might feed with that.”

“Is it... _my_ backpack?”

“It is now,” Glaisig tells him somberly.

With a trembling hand, Alcar touches the backpack, then lets his hand fall.  He looks again at Glaisig.  “It is _my_ backpack, the one I carried for so long?”

“No-“

Alcar lets fall his hand.  He takes a deep breath. 

“I do not want it.  I don’t need any gift from any devil, Asmodeus or Lucifer or- or whomever!  And all of you“ -He turns a wrathful eye on the others- “you’d better be careful with those things!  _You can’t trust these guys!  Don’t forget that!_”

“We’ll be careful,” Gerontius promises. 

“There is no taint of evil on the items he gave us,” points of Sir Maxwell.  Alcar only shakes his head.

***

In the end, the rewards (for those who took them) include*:

Gerontius- _dagger +4, bane vs. undead, oozes, constructs and elementals)_
Sir Maxwell- _silveriron +6 war hammer_
Sybele- a magical quiver; arrows pulled from it penetrate any DR except DR x/-
Horbin- _heavy mace +6_ that gives +2 to turning attempts
Lillamere- a pair of gloves that adds 4 to the DCs of his spells against lawful targets
Inoke- adamantine _axiomatic defending +5 Heavy Mace_ that grants a +2 Luck bonus to saving throws
Orbius- Glaisig shows him the location of a _sphere of annihilation,_ hidden far away.
Lester- _sunglasses of true seeing_

Alcar is the only one to actually turn his proffered gift down; however, Horbin gives the mace to Till, his long-time shield boy.

***

The next several months are spent in a variety of pursuits.  Horbin begins investigating the legal status of Blendorag.  The idea of claiming it as a sanctuary of some kind, and cleaning and sanctifying it, is very appealing.  He starts researching all the necessary rituals.  To close the Stinking Pit would be another triumph!

Lillamere administers his demesnes and enjoying the time off.  He sends N’Sari away on a quest to find artifacts of the lost Ancient Elves.  

Veil spends thousands of gold pieces trying to track down a fruit of the Vuivui tree after Lester tells her about one of his old adventures.  He and his companions at the time- Thimbleton and Malford were there, some 60,000 miles away, on the Isle of Vuivui.  (That adventure was also where Lester and his party first met Hobbes, now a tabaxi leader on Dorhaus.)  In any event, a strange slaad named Vuivui dwelt on the isle, near a tree that gave fruit of Chaos.

”There was some kind of test involved, too, but I can’t recall anything else to tell you,” Lester had finished, and Veil had proceeded to work at tracking such things down.  Though it appears that King Malford- at the time a Baron- had once briefly cultivated one, Fuligin’s coming destroyed any trace of it.  No other reference can be found, save those deriving from Lester’s adventure.  Veil sighs.  60,000 miles is a _huge_ distance.  According to Lester, the sun was off to the side, rather than directly overhead.  Veil can’t even imagine what that would be like- but she wants to find that tree.

She sets to work pestering her teleporting friends.

Sybele spends some of the spring on Tirchond, some time on Pesh and the majority of her time on Dorhaus.  She visits the dwarf mage-smith Fandral, who delivers unto her the chain shirt he had offered to craft so long ago.  When it develops that the party has lost the blades he forged for them in Bile Mountain- is it still called Angelfire Mountain?- he becomes incensed, and demands that they not return to him without his craftsmanship in hand.

Sybele also spends some time being a mother to her young twins, which she hasn’t seen in months.  She can’t remember their names, anyway.  Her reunion with Thrush is joyful and quickly leads to some hot nooky.  

Throughout the spring, the Delphinate issues a series of _sendings_ to all the high-level spellcasters invited to the conference of spellcasters.  The time is coming for the conference.  It will occur towards the end of the seventh month, Hotmonth.  It appears to be an effort to set the rules of war for magic, though what it will turn into once it is in session remains to be seen.  Horbin, Lillamere, Lester and Orbius all determine to go, and they invite their friends as bodyguards.  

“Are bodyguards allowed?” asks Inoke.

Lillamere shrugs.  “Well, I’m taking some.  And I _really_ doubt whether Prayzose or the Delphin will go anywhere without one.”

“Are they going to be there?” Inoke exclaims.

“Well, I hope so.”  Lillamere gives a wan smile.  “If this is going to count, they kind of have to be.”

Perhaps most important in the long run, during this period of time the party stumbles across information leading them to believe a terrible thing: the sun’s orbit is developing a wobble.  An eccentric astronomer named Professor Ledris shows them reams of calculations and drawings.  It will take thousands of years, perhaps tens of thousands, but the seasons are the result of this wobble; and they will become more and more pronounced as time goes on.  It will not be noticeable for many generations, but it is certainly something worth thinking about.

Horbin verifies the wobble with a _commune._  This _commune_ also reveals a few other interesting tidbits.  Among his most interesting bits:

_Is there conflict between Dexter the Son of Galador, and His Father?_ *Yes.*
_Is the wobbling of the sun the result of evil or malice?_ *Yes.*
_Is it related to the Death of Asmodeus?_ *No.*
_Are the Bile Lords keeping track of us?_ *No.*
_Have the Bile Lords reproduced?_ *Not yet.*
_Is Hell currently in turmoil due to the death of Asmodeus?_ *Yes.*
_Is there a likely victor any time in the next 100 years?_ *Uncertain.*
_Is there active revenge being plotted against the killers of Asmodeus?_ *Unknown.*

When he is done, he purses his lips thoughtfully.  _Another thing I must do,_ he thinks, _is contact the Tiger Empress._

The Tiger Lands, east of the Bendrock Mountains, are her territory.  She is at war with Horbin’s King, Malford, mostly over the rich territory of Goldstone.  She certainly has a better technical claim on it based on bloodlines- but in the wilderness of post-Fuligin Dorhaus, Malford’s people got there first, before she even laid a claim.  

Horbin issues her a _sending,_ requesting an audience.  He receives a courteous, noncommittal reply: _We are very busy.  When time allows we will contact you._

Horbin shrugs.  Good enough.  In the meantime, it’s become summer, and the conference of spellcasters is bound to be soon.

Lester and Orbius hang out at the Temple of Elemental Good, teaching and having a good time.  Orbius crafts a few items during this period, but it’s a pretty laid-back spring.  Lester, as always, has plenty of groupies. 

Then, one day, the casters receive a _sending_ from the Delphin’s agents.  _We will contact you in 24 hours with the coordinates._  Wherever they are- in the Temple of Elemental Good, in the Citadel of Eternity, in Brelana, in Forinthia, in the Halls of Healing, in the northern reaches of Dorhaus- those contacted set to making preparations of one sort or another.  A few will not go; most will.  

And there will be at least one gate crasher.

_*Next Time:*_ The Conference of Spellcasters!

*I need to check in with the pcs in several cases- will try to fill this in over time!


----------



## arwink

the Jester said:
			
		

> Er, tons, at least in the high-level campaign.   (I honestly can't be more specific than that.)  Epic levels are _all about_ customization imho.




Then my hat is off to you, sir.

Check your Private Messages


----------



## Brain

Inoke's gift was an _Adamantine, Axiomatic, Defending, +5 Heavy Mace that grants a +2 Luck bonus to saving throws_.


----------



## the Jester

*The Conference of Spellcasters (part 1)*

_*7/24/371 O.L.G., 11:30 a.m., the Halls of Healing, Var*_

Horbin kneels before Kevanen, a powerful planetar is service to the Light.  It has taken him months of introspection to come to this point.  The cleric summoned the celestial in order to atone.  He has written a confession, and now he reads it off to the angel.

“I, Horbin the Holy, come humbly before Dexter, the Blind Son of Galador, to atone for my blind allegiance to freedom to the deteriment of the people I am charged to protect.  

“I now understand that some rule of law is desirable for the good of a well maintained society.

“A certain amount of freedom of the individual is also necessary.

“I also understand that the foresight of those who create laws are limited, so not all challenges and situations are covered by laws resulting from the best of intended law-makers.

“I also understand that those who hold the law must themselves be regulated and checked by freedom of the people to govern themselves and see  to their own well being.

“I hereby renounce Chaos as a personal philosophy, but see Chaos as a necessary but not final part of life and society.

“Let Dexter continue to guide my hand as a protector of Dorhaus and the people of all Cydra.”*

***

In the bottom of a hidden shaft piercing bedrock, Orbius purses his lips, looking at the _sphere of annihilation_ Glaisig showed him several months ago.

It’s thousands of miles from home, and it won’t _teleport._  After all, it’s not an object- it’s a hole in reality.  

The Eye of Boccob frowns.  _Some reward,_ he thinks ruefully.  _I could take it home, but the effort would be taxing.  It would be a slow flight and I’d have to concentrate on the _sphere_ the whole time.  Alternatively, I could leave it hidden here and use it to dispose of especially dangerous items and creatures._

He sighs.  _It’s too dangerous._ 

He pulls a _rod of cancellation_ from the sash at his belt.

***

_*4:45 pm.*_

Lillamere, Horbin, Orbius, Lester and Seethe are among those contacted by the Delphinate.  They each begin making preparations.  Seethe is told that the Grand Druid himself will be watching, and will be keeping in mental contact throughout the conference. 

***

_*7/25/371 O.L.G., 4:45 p.m.*_

The _sendings_ with the teleport coordinates are issued.  Our heroes gather in groups; each has one of the invited spellcasters and their entourage.  Lillamere is dressed in fine silks of the highest quality.  Lester has provided uniforms to those who want to wear them.  

Lillamere takes a deep breath and casts _greater teleport_, heading for the indicated coordinates.  The world around him shifts, and for an instant, he is on a teleport pad such as he’s seen in the Delphinate.  But then the world shifts again as he is teleported further, somewhere else, on another pad on a small island, his entourage with him.  An instant later, Orbius and his entourage arrive as well.  The party looks around them.

They have arrived on a square ceramic pad about 20’ on a side set into the ground on a sandy beach.  They appear to be on an island that stretches some two or three miles east to west and probably a mile and a half to the north.  There are woods on the other side of the isle, as well as a small hilly region.  A large main building and over a dozen small huts dot the place, but there doesn’t seem to be any activity visible.  Our heroes head towards the building.

“I wonder if we’re the first to arrive,” Alcar murmurs.

As he speaks, there’s a flash from the teleport pad.  Looking in that direction, our heroes are pleased to see Seethe- once they realize who she is.  She recognizes them and happily introduces herself. 

“You look different,” says Gerontius.  “I thought you were an old guy, now you’re younger and you’re a girl.”

She laughs.  “I am a druid.  I wear whatever face I wish.”

Over the afternoon, others arrive, most of them known to at least some of our heroes.  

Emperor Prayzose greets them warmly; despite the fact that they work at cross-purposes in many ways, he is friends with Lester and friendly to all of them.  Horbin approaches him about claiming Blendorag as a sanctuary, but the Emperor of Forinthia and High Priest of the Light shakes his head.  “That is my wife’s land, and it is her decision, not mine,” he insists.  

“Well, I guess I’ll have to talk to her then,” Horbin answers glumly.

The Delphin offers them the hospitality of either a room in the main building or one of the outbuildings.  He (?) also provides them with a fantastic meal, served in the main conference building.  When asked what he seeks to get out of the conference, he replies that he seeks to ensure that no great magical disasters occur, to avoid the targeting of innocents (such as family member noncombatants), and to attempt to get a guarantee against disjunctions.

Marius the Chronomancer arrives.  He and Horbin exchange a few cold words.  Orbius humbly approaches him for advice about Jezebel.  Marius suggests that he look to Jezebel’s draconic instincts.  “You must shower her with gifts and valuables.”

“I’ve given her gifts.”

Marius shrugs.  “She is a young dragon, gathering a horde.”

Arion the Archmage, drunk as usual, shows up.  Thankfully, the cantrip called _quicksober_ is in good supply, so though he gets drunk again he also sobers up quickly.  It becomes an amusing cycle throughout the conference.

When Estelias arrives, she dazzles everyone.  Her beauty is, as always, amazing.  She wears silver and sapphires, her pale skin accented perfectly by them.  Her silver hair and amber eyes betray her grey elven heritage.  Lillamere is astounded to find someone with more beauty than him.  He is both strongly attracted to her and somewhat jealous.  

Lester gulps as the next group walks in.  There are three of them: a beauteous elven woman in an incredible formal dress glittering with jewels, with red hair and long earrings; a short male human with short hair and a round face, though a lean body; and a taller human, wearing a tattered set of robes crawling with vermin, and with a vulture squatting on his shoulder.  “How’s it going, Dzaram?” Lester calls.  “I hope you don’t mean any harm.”

“Lester,” the shorter man says gravely.

He locks eyes with Prayzose.  After a long moment, the short man says, “Your Imperial Majesty,” with a nod.

_Who’s that?_ Gerontius asks over the party’s permanent _Rary’s interplanar telepathic bond._ 

_That’s Dzaram the Lich,_ Lester replies grimly.  _The Lich of Forinthia._

_Is he an enemy?_

Lester considers.  _Sometimes,_ he answers at last.  _He’s helped us out before, too, like against the Temple of Elemental Evil when we needed to collapse the nodes to travel back in time, and against Strogass in the wars between it and Forinthia._

_Who are the others?_ Inoke wonders.

_The woman is called Delilah the Damned,_ Orbius tells them.  _The taller man, with the vulture, is Nydroth, known to most simply as Grisly._

_Delilah the-!  She was one of Dexter’s greatest enemies!_  Horbin is ashen.

_Remember, my friends, this is _not the time or place_ to settle scores,_ Orbius thinks firmly.  _Think what would happen if all the casters here started to fire off their big guns.  It would be... disastrous._

So far, everyone has remained reasonably restrained.  The next arrivals are four people unknown to most of our heroes; however, Lillamere springs to his feet as they enter.

“Mom!” he cries.  

Alita, wizardess of the Delphinate, replies with a gladdened yell, and they embrace.  They have not seen each other in about 150 years, since the coming of Fuligin.  Neither of them even knew for sure whether the other was still alive.  Now they sit together, chatting and catching up after years apart. 

The other three spellcasters with Alita introduce themselves as Vendura, Alathria and Churr.   All three of these, it turns out, are former Delphins _true resurrected_ by Horbin as part of the deal he made with the Delphinate after the party died in Bile Mountain.  Churr is a gnollish diviner; one of his hands clutches a crystal orb.  He seems very interested in Inoke’s cat-helmet.  First he offers to buy it; then, when Inoke refuses, he asks where there might be more.  Inoke is evasive; the helmet itself tells him, _I don’t trust it.  It’s canine._

Night draws in, and another set of arrivals come in.  This time, several of our heroes- Lester, Orbius and Sybele- recognize them.  _Cripes, it’s those guys from the Black Academy!_ thinks Sybele across the telepathic link.

Indeed.  A tall, dark-haired female vampire leads the trio from the Academy.  Our heroes recognize her as Ferranifer, mistress of the Black Academy.  With her are Academician Drake, a pale master of intense presence and great power, and Instructor Ngise, a student of the black arts.  The tension rises as they make their introductions.  

“Where are all the clerics?” wonders Horbin.

“Not everyone who was called could- or would- come,” the Delphin says. 

Later still, one more straggler arrives: Mabrack the storm giant, with his humungous dog.  Most of the conferees are familiar with him, and if his ability to spellcast is not quite on a par with theirs, they respect his formidable physical abilities as well.

And then the gate crasher arrives.

_*Next Time:*_ Uninvited, and surely trouble- another Marius arrives!

*With this, the planetar cast _atonement_ on Horbin, allowing him to change from CG to NG alignment.


----------



## the Jester

Just for the record, the pcs and cohorts in attendance at the conference are:

Inoke (ex-bbn 2/psychic warrior 2/ftr 8/warmind 13) LG; ECL 25
Seethe* (druid 18) N; ECL 18
Baron Lillamere (sorc 20/argent savant 3) CG; ECL 23
Lester (elem 14/warrior of chaos 4/divine oracle 3/contemplative 2/hierophant 1/paraelementalist 1) CG; ECL 25
Sybele (fighter 8/psion 14/warrior of chaos 4) CG; ECL 26
Chakar (monk 18) LG; ECL 18
Alcar (half-celestial ftr 3/cleric 14) NG; ECL 20
Gerontius (rog 16/invisible blade 5/ftr 4) CG; ECL 25
Orbius (diviner 7/divine oracle 11/archmage 2/loremaster 2) CG; ECL 22
Jezebel (half-dragon rog 5/sorc 7/arcane trickster 2) CN; ECL 17
Wankleman (Gerontius' new cohort- ftr 12/chaotician 5) CG; ECL 17

Helluva group, I gotta say. 



*Whose character sheet finally turned up.


----------



## Brain

the Jester said:
			
		

> Churr is a gnomish diviner; one of his hands clutches a crystal orb. He seems very interested in Inoke’s helmet. First he offers to buy it; then, when Inoke refuses, he asks where there might be more. Inoke is evasive; the helmet itself tells him, I don’t trust it. It’s canine.




I think you mean Gnoll there instead of Gnomish, right?

Inoke did offer some information on a Canus helm he had found, but was reluctant to give out information on the Miloxi.


----------



## hippiejedi2

During the 100-day downtime, we visit Sigil and _everyone_ knew we were responsible for the death of the Big A.

Gerontius also met this human in Sigil, Dorn Wackleman (pronounced Wankerman) who convinced Ger that he would be an asset to both Ger and the party, so Ger decided to let him follow.

Ger and Veil visit the Priest of N'Rat, which means chaos, and Ger got +1 level. In 2 games Ger gained 3 lvls

Ger changed alignment from CN to CG, under the influences of Horben and Alcar. Ironic the guy who inspired change in Ger changed at the same time/ in the same game, usu algn change takes 3 games to become effective, but Horben had Atonement cast upon himself.

A more punctilious physical description of Dzaram is, well, think Paul Simmon. Guahahah

Lester got shades of True Seeing from Glasig for his part in the destuction of Assmodeus

Though late, Gerontius played rogue games w/Albin, the Erathian Rogue, and ended up w/a wand of invisibility.


----------



## Knightfall

Just caught up again on this thread. Excellent stuff as usual. I think I'm really going to like these meeting of magic updates. And it is scary cool to see that Delilah the Damned is still around. She must be super-powerful by now!  

KF72


----------



## the Jester

*The Conference of Spellcasters (part 2)*

The night wears on and most of the various participants at the conference gradually retire.  Refreshments are made available at any time, and the place is staffed by a horde of _improved unseen servants_.  Our heroes make conversation with the various spellcasters present.  Horbin speaks to High Priest Prayzose for some time, discussing politics and theology.  Orbius finds himself conversing with Marius; Lester speaks with everyone, as he is wont to do, but spends a great deal of time with Emperor Prayzose as well.  Lillamere and his mom have a lot of catching up to do.

Veil tries to talk to the constructs guarding the Delphin, but they don’t answer, and the Delphin tells her that they are mindless.  Disappointed, Veil then wanders into Lillamere’s conversation with Alita.  They are discussing whether or not constructs should have rights- apparently Alita thinks the _simulacrum_ discussion that Marius has already broached will lead in that direction.  Veil is disturbed; it has never before occurred to her that, as a construct, she might have no legal rights.  Well, the law has never done her right anyhow; even as a young doppelganger, she was beaten and imprisoned once just for what she was.  Now she is an agent of Chaos, and much happier for it; but the thought that nobody will help her stand up for her rights appalls her.

Eventually, our heroes head to bed, mostly sleeping in the huts outside.

***

_*7/26/371 O.L.G., 10 a.m.*_

In the morning, the conference officially begins- boisterous, as might be expected, with many different points of view and strong personalities clashing.  Suddenly there is a flash from the teleport pad, and a figure appears: a second Marius. 

With a strangled cry, Marius the Chronomancer leaps to his feet.  “A _simulacrum!_” he cries.

“Peach!” the faux Marius cries, stepping from the teleport pad with his hands raised.  “I come for the conference, as a representative of the empowered _simulacra!_  I mean no harm!  I come under the guarantee of truce!”

Trembling with rage, Marius the Chronomancer begins to snarl a reply, but the Delphin speaks first.  “You were not invited.”

“Think about it.  If you make rules for the conduct of magic, do you truly think that you can enforce them against us?”  The _simulacrum_ shakes his head.  “You need our input if you want us to follow the rules.  Otherwise we will shatter your agreement.”

“This is outrageous!” Marius the Chronomancer shouts.  “We should blast it to oblivion!”  He is quaking with anger.

“He has a point, actually,” replies Prayzose.  “How are we going to enforce whatever decisions we come to?  If we want them to go along, we do need to allow them some input.”

“They are _spells,_ not beings!” Marius cries.

”We should let him speak as we discuss it, though,” says Lillamere.  “Regardless of _what_ he is-“

_”It,”_ insists Marius.

“-_regardless,_ if he and these allies of his can cast powerful spells, they should have a say.”

“I’m not so sure,” answers Alita.  “It seems to me that we should include only real spellcasters.”

“We _are_ real,” the false Marius says with quiet dignity.

“I mean living ones,” Alita retorts.

”Would you deny _me_ a vote, then?” Dzaram inquires dryly.

Orbius speaks up.  “Well, as you can all see, the issues here are difficult, and unlikely to be resolved quickly.  I say we allow the _simulacrum_ to be part of this conference, but that the matter of the _simulacra_ be put on our agenda.”

“Let’s blast him,” Marius snarls.

“Let’s vote on it,” suggests Horbin.  “Does he sit in attendance at the conference?  A simple majority vote.”

“That is accptable,” both Marii say at once.  They glare at each other.

11 to 9.  He’s in.

At first it is chaotic and disorganized, but gradually some order begins to form as Orbius suggests the basic system that the group adopts.  They will first discuss what to put on the agenda.  Any item nominated for discussion that gets a majority vote will be put on the agenda, and after discussion, a 2/3 vote will be required to pass it.  Then whatever agreement they reach, they will ratify by consensus.

“That’s quite a high threshold,” Prayzose remarks.

“At least it will stop us from making frivolous rules,” Horbin comments.

Marius glares at the _simulacrum,_ who looks back at him with equanimity.

The discussions begin in earnest.  First the rights, or lack thereof, of _simulacra_ are brought up.  Thus leads to considerable discussion, including- as Alita had predicted- the rights of constructs.

“If they have rights, don’t they also have some kind of responsibilities?” suggests Horbin.  “And if they _don’t_ have rights, who is responsible for their actions?  For instance, if this _simulacrum_ of you has no rights, and it goes and destroys half a town, are you liable for it’s actions?  Do you have to pay for the damages?”

The issue is put on the agenda.

“One of my personal concerns is the issue of _disjunctions,_” the Delphin offers.  “It is a useful spell, but it’s problematic.  I’m sure none of you want to lose all your magic items.  I would like to see limits placed on its use.”

“It is a pretty dangerous spell to toss around,” admits Orbius, “but it has saved our lives more than once.”

“I’m not necessarily saying we should ban its use completely, I’m talking about amongst us.”

“Perhaps we can put the relations between us all on the agenda as well,” suggests Ferranifer.  “I don’t believe there is any need for us to fight among ourselves; it seems to me that we would do well to work out any differences we have peacefully.”

“That is not always possible,” Mabrack the storm giant rumbles, “but it is worth discussing.” 

“Nonetheless, I believe we should put _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_ on the agenda.”

“Maybe death spells, too,” suggests Vendura.

“Only,” retorts Dzaram, “if you ban healing magic as well.”  Both Delilah and Grisly nod agreement beside him.

After some discussion, whether or not to outlaw specific spells is put on the agenda.  So is conflict between spellcasters, including retaliation.  The topic of divine intervention is brought up by the Delphin, and it too is put on the agenda over the vociferous protests of Prayzose.  The treatment of innocents is the next topic discussed and added to the list of things to address.

Marius adds something else, other than his staunch feelings regarding the _simulacra_: “I suggest we ban interference with the time line.”  This passes 14-6, with only a few individuals voting against it.  Instructor Ngise, in particular, rails against blocking off any avenue of research whatsoever. 

“One more thing,” Lillamere sighs.  “Should we reconvene?”

“What!” cries Orbius.  “Why would we-“

“What if we overlook something or something we decide doesn’t work?  I say, in a few years, we meet again to discuss things.”

“Maybe in one year,” suggests Prayzose.

“A good point,” nods the Delphin.  “And obviously we need to discuss enforcement of whatever agreement we come to.”  Everyone agrees with that.

And with that, the agenda is set.

_*Next Time:*_ The conference continues.  Will such a massive group of spellcasters be able to agree on anything?  Will they blast the _simulacrum?_  Will they destroy the entire island they are on??


----------



## the Jester

Voting at the conference are:

The Delphin
Marius the Chronomancer
Arion the Archmage
Estelias
Mabrack
Emperor Prayzose
Dzaram the Lich
"Grisly" Nydroth
Delilah the Damned
Ferranifer
Academician Drake
Instructor Ngise
Alita 
Churr
Vendura
Alathria
The Marius _simulacrum_

(and the pcs that are actual conferees

Baron Lillamere
Lester
Orbius 
Horbin the MFKG Holy
Seethe

Update coming within the next hour!


----------



## Sandain

No Bile Lords came?


----------



## weiknarf

Are any of them Psions?


----------



## the Jester

Sandain said:
			
		

> No Bile Lords came?




    

No, I honestly hadn't even considered them...

Edit: though there's been lots of talk of returning to Bile Mountain soon.


----------



## the Jester

weiknarf said:
			
		

> Are any of them Psions?




Nope, as Horbin observed, they're almost all arcane casters.  Arcane casters in Cydra sometimes look down on psionics or see it as a threat (the Delphinate does, for instance).


----------



## the Jester

*The Conference of Spellcasters (part 3)*

“The thing I don’t think you’re thinking about,” Horbin reiterates, “is this: if constructs, _simulacra_ and such are not free-thinking beings, if they don’t have _rights_- who is _responsible_ for their actions?  Do we hold their creator responsible?”  He turns to Marius the Chronomancer.  “Do you want to be responsible for your _simulacra_?  Do you all want to be responsible for any actions golems you make might take?”

“Who else might be held so responsible?” counters the Delphin.  “After all, if someone builds a clay golem, who do you complain to if it misbehaves?”

“You certainly can’t complain to the golem,” comments Alita, Lillamere’s mother and genius behind the creation of the warforged.  “Most constructs are mindless.”

”We aren’t talking about them,” the _simulacrum_ of Marius declares, “we’re talking about free-willed entities that are more powerful than their creator.  We feel; why should we not have rights?  We have hopes, we have aspirations, we dream.  Why do you persecute us?  Yes, you create us; but you create children, too, yet you let them go their own way.”

“Just because you can sit with us does not give you any right to speak,” snaps Marius the Chronomancer.

Before the faux Marius can reply, Lillamere interjects, “I believe that very question is what is under discussion, actually.”  Marius the Chronomancer glares back at him.  Baron Lillamere looks back from beneath lidded eyes with equanimity.  “We are discussing _whether_ they will be given rights.”  He sounds dubious.

“I will repeat,” the _simulacrum_ states direly, “that without our support your agreement will fail.”

Orbius sighs.  “Threats will not get anyone anything.  We must come to agreement.”

“We will _not_ agree to the dismissal of our rights,” the false Marius repeats again. 

The conference discusses the subject for some time.  One of the key points is that most constructs and spells don’t think.  There are exceptions, but they are few.  Alita brings up the warforged as one example, and speaks eloquently against treating them the same as living beings.  

”Their entire purpose is to save lives,” she points out.  “We of the Delphinate spent immense resources on developing the warforged.  We poured time, money and life energy itself into the research and rituals that were required to forge them.  We did it to save lives- so that we would have soldiers and spellcasters that we could use without risking the life of a living creature.  To accept that they have equal rights with living creatures is to declare that work pointless and wasteful.

“You might as well suggest giving equal rights to wagons.”

“I’m not a wagon,” states Veil.  “You guys are talking about more than just the _simulacrum_ here- keep in mind that you’re talking about _principles._”

But the Delphin speaks clearly in agreement with Alita in principal.  Marius vehemently urges everyone to vote against the _simulacrum_ (for clearly that is what the vote is, in his mind).  In the end, only Prayzose, Lester and the _simulacrum_ itself vote to give constructs rights.  Though the discussion is highly contentious, the vote is almost unanimously against them.

Inoke tenses, stuck in a moment of indecision.  _The _simulacrum_ is extremely dangerous,_ he thinks.  _It has already said that its camp will try to prevent the conference from coming to an effective agreement.  I should kill it, now, before it has a chance to get away and get its partners to cause trouble._

Before he decides to strike, however, the _simulacrum_ speaks up.  “You fools,” it says, shaking its head.  “I tell you, this will not stand.”  It sighs.  “But I will see what else might be achieved at this conference and do what I can while I am here.  I will maintain the truce until after I have left.  Will you do the same?”

“We will,” the Delphin pledges.  His voice holds a stern warning.

Slowly, Inoke relaxes. 

“But you no longer get a vote,” Marius sneers.

***

The Delphin brings up the topic of _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_, which leads to the topic of a variety of spells being banned or limited.  “I mostly think it would be a foolish waste for one of us to be hit with a _disjunction,_” he says.  “I am fairly certain that all of us have unique and probably irreplaceable items on us, items that deserve to be passed on and studied through posterity.”

Instructor Ngise of the Black Academy speaks up fiercely, declaring that “No magic should be banned!  No avenue of experimentation should be denied!”

Ferranifer, Mistress of the Black Academy and old enemy of many of our heroes from their penetration of the infamous Tomb of Horrors, lays a gentle hand on Ngise’s still-living arm (one of them is a husk of blackened, withered undead flesh) and says softly, “Perhaps if they would be willing to ban sun magic in return- such as _sunburst, sunray,_ and so forth?”  Ngise scowls.

A rollicking debate forms.  It soon becomes clear that they are not going to agree to ban anything, and when the vote comes, a narrow majority- eleven of them- vote to ban certain spells; nine vote against, and Seethe abstains.  The vote fails to carry (as they have previous agreed that they need a 2/3 majority to pass the vote).

***

Divine intervention is next on the agenda.  The Delphin speaks passionately about records of civilizations that have been destroyed by the direct intervention of deities.  Prayzose counters with a strong, forthright argument of his own.  “This is a trap for me.  I am worshipped as a god; does that mean that I can’t act on my own home plane now?  I don’t think I can agree with this, and I urge you all to think about the consequences of enacting a vote on such a topic.  I am not the only person worshipped as a god on Cydra.”  His meaning is clear: he is speaking of ‘God-King’ Malford. 

This vote, too, fails to pass; again, a narrow majority votes for it.  The vote is 12-9.

***

The issue of conflict mediation comes next.  Prayzose tries to bring up conduct regarding innocent bystanders in this context, but the discussion bogs down when no one can agree on a definition of innocent bystanders.  Both the Delphin and Emperor Prayzose are saddened by this; they agree that the protection of the innocent is an important thing.  Alas, it has proven different for such a powerful and diverse group to agree on much of anything.  

“We should at least agree to some sort of meeting to resolve conflicts amongst ourselves,” insists Ferranifer.  

”I agree,” nods the Delphin.  “I am sure that none of us relish the thought of direct conflict with one another.”  There is a general murmur of agreement.  

”But... we aren’t going to be a permanent body, are we?” Orbius asks.  “I don’t have time for such things.  I’m very busy, and I know Lester is too...”

“No, I don’t think there’s a need for a permanent body or anything- maybe just a panel that can be called on in case of need, which we’ll periodically swap out.”

They discuss it for a while, and eventually decide to make a 5 member panel, chosen randomly by lot, in case of need.  This time the vote carries, 14-7.  When the lots are drawn, the mediation panel (should its use be required) consists of Lester, Ferranifer, Ngise, the Delphin and Alita.  Lester gripes about being on it, but Orbius assures him it is the price of responsibility.  

***

Next Marius urges the conference to ban tampering with the timeline.  “There is _nothing_ more dangerous,” he warns sternly.  His _simulacrum_ stares stonily at him.  “_Nothing,_” Marius the Chronomancer repeats.  “You could easily destroy yourself, or change your life into something terribly unlike you are used to.”

Nobody else seems to know anything to speak of about the topic other than Marius (although Lester, Orbius and Horbin were once caught in a time trap by him), but they agree almost unanimously with Marius.  Again, Ngise holds out for banning nothing, raving extensively about slippery slopes, and “what’s next, banning _fireball_ and _charm person?_”

Interestingly, Churr, Alathria and Vendura all vote against banning tampering with the timeline.  The Delphin, face concealed by the _mask of the Delphin,_ silently takes note.

***

One final item is discussed.  

“Are we going to reconvene?” asks Horbin.

There is silence.  

“A lot of things have been raised here that we might, in all fairness, want to think over and talk about again.  And there are bound to be other concerns we have that come up.”

“And from time to time, the conflict resolution committee must realign,” adds Lester.

The group grows more thoughtful over this than over any other single piece of discussion so far.  _The implications of this are... fascinating,_ thinks Dzaram the Lich.  _Especially given the moral stature of Emperor Prayzose, organizing this conference was a masterful stroke on the part of the Delphin.  Now he has an effective way to avoid a direct conflict with Prayzose- something I had foreseen more and more as a real possibility.  And I now have my hands tied as well, for even I would not want to face this group, even with Nydroth, Delilah and the Orichalcum Devourer beside me._

In the end, they vote to reconvene in six months.  _That’s practically tomorrow,_ thinks Lillamere.

***

“Well, that’s it, then,” says Orbius cheerfully.

“It doesn’t seem like we accomplished much,” says Horbin mournfully.

”I disagree,” Emperor and High Priest Prayzose replies.  “We started talking.  And we agreed to continue talking, and to meet again.  I think that, in itself, is quite an accomplishment.”

“’S true,” Arion mumbles drunkenly.  He wipes a sleeve across his chin.  “Jus’ talkin’ is a great deal more than we had before.”  

The conferees are outside, watching a brilliant orange sunset stripe and ripple against purple across the clouds.  The evening air smells like rain.    

“Not bad for a day’s work,” remarks Horbin the MFKG Holy.

_*Next Time:*_ A long time ago, Lester and some of his pals went to an island 60,000 miles away called the Isle of Vuivui and ate a Chaos fruit.  Since hearing about this, Veil has wanted to go there.  Next time- she finally gets her wish, but it isn’t quite what she expects!


----------



## Brain

the Jester said:
			
		

> Nope, as Horbin observed, they're almost all arcane casters.  Arcane casters in Cydra sometimes look down on psionics or see it as a threat (the Delphinate does, for instance).



I thought Prayzose was a psion (at least partly)


----------



## the Jester

Brain said:
			
		

> I thought Prayzose was a psion (at least partly)




Oh, you caught me. 

He is a psion, but he was invited cuz he's also a cleric.  Nobody was invited to represent psionics.


----------



## omrob

*Psionz*

The cleric emperor guy and big girl talked about a similar gthering for Psions. 

We also discussed an ol fashioned Marvel Team Up to try and end the civil war on Forinthia... big gurl's home continent. 

I also wanted to point out few other Caster Conf details. 

1) The uniforms that Afro guy provided for us bodygaurds look exactly like Tuxedos, along with dark sunglasses.

2) We had a bodyguard showoff with the Emperor's Eagles...

3) Big Gurl got to continue her on and off affair with the Storm Giant wizard - fun fun...


----------



## the Jester

_*7/29/371 O.L.G., 10 a.m., the Halls of Healing, Var*_

Horbin the MFKG Holy strokes his chin.  The priestly vestments adorning him give him comfort.  

Recently, he _atoned_ to Kevanen, a planetar of Galador.  He begged forgiveness for allowing his love of freedom to overcome his desire to do good.  Eagerly, he accepted a _quest_ from the celestial.  Now it is time to follow up on that quest.

_”There is a demon,” Kevanen had said those few days before, “that has caused much pain through deception.  Even now it continues to do so.”

“Deceiving who?  My party?” Horbin asked.

“Among others.  Even Dexter Himself.  In fact, this demon was responsible for the second coming of Farenth.  A group of adventurers had come to the ruins of the Halls of Light on Forinthia, not long after the fall of the tarrasques.  They were led by dreams that they received from what appeared to be two angels, one male and one female, but each claimed that the other was a demon in disguise.  Their advice led the heroes to a _rod of resurrection_ hidden in the ruined halls, which they used to restore both the Son of the Light and the Son of Bleak to life.

“You must stop her deceptions, Horbin.”_

Now Horbin ponders how to find this demon.  He knows the tale of the Second Coming of Dexter, of course, and of Farenth; and he knows the tale of Desgren and Tharron, the heroes that raised Dex from beyond the veil with the rod.  The fact that the demon still exists, and is tampering with his own party, is relatively new to him.  

Regardless, he shakes his head, bemused.  If he needs to find something, the fastest way is probably to ask Orbius.

***

_*1 p.m., the Temple of Elemental Good*_

Veil has begged, pleaded and cajoled for so long that Orbius gives in with a sigh.  The Eye of Boccob has put off Veil’s ambition for too long, in truth; it is time that they tried to reach the Isle of Vuivui for her.  

To this end, Orbius casts a pair of _contact other planes_.

_What is the _mace of St. John_ up to?_ *Unknown*
_What are the teleportation coordinates for the Isle of Vuivui?_ *Extremely far.*
_How many teleport circles do I need to cast to get there?_ *Four.*
_What type of opposition should we expect on our trip?_ *Aberrations.*
_Where should the first teleport circle lead?_ *Belurnus.*
_The second?_ *The Icy Drifts.*
_The third?_ *Mixel’s Tear.*
_The fourth?_ *Vuivui.*
_Can we expect active opposition when we arrive in Belurnus?_ *No.*
_At the second landing?_ *Perhaps.*
_What kind of opposition, if any, will we face at the second landing?_ *Cold.*
_Should we expect opposition at the third landing?_ *Unlikely.*
_What type of opposition are we likely to face on the Isle of Vuivui?_ *Aberrations.*
_Specifically, what is the most powerful type?_ *Orb.*

Orbius thinks about that for a moment.  _Beholders are known as ‘orbs of many eyes,’_ he thinks, _and there are legends of even worse creatures- the supposed forefathers of beholders and gibbering mouthers both, the gibbering orbs._  He licks his lips.

_What is our best tactic in approaching this orb, i.e., combat, diplomacy, bribery, etc?_ *Diplomacy.*
_What will the orb want?_ *Unpredictable.*
_What is the name of this orb?_ *Caercolli.*
_What’s his alignment?_ *Don’t know.*
_What is his interest in the Isle of Vuivui?_ *Guard.*
_Does he guard the Cave of Vuivui?_ *No.*
_Can we get to the cave and avoid the orb?_ *No.*
_What is Caercolli’s greatest physical weakness?_ *Don’t know.*
_What is the best diplomatic gesture we can make?_ *Food.*
_What is the orb’s favorite food?_ *Salmon.*

Exhausted from sending his mind so far out twice so quickly, he rests for a few moments with a goblet of water.  His meditations are interrupted by the arrival of Horbin.  “Orbius,” he says, “I’m on a quest and I’d like to see if you might be willing to do some divinations for me to help me out.”

Orbius nods.  “Certainly, I can do that a little later.  But first, I’ve promised Veil a trip to a strange distant location- the Isle of Vuivui.”

”Vuivui!” exclaims Horbin.

“Yes, would you like to come along?”

Horbin hesitates.  “Isn’t Vuivui a Chaos place?  I’m trying to distance myself from all that...”

“Well, otherwise, I’ll be gone for several days, so I can do it when I return.”

“I guess I can just _commune_ anyway... oh, hell, how long is this Vuivui thing going to take?”

“A couple of days,” Orbius assures the cleric.

Horbin sighs.  “Count me in.”

***

*5 p.m., Mixel’s Tear*

In the end, the entire party accompanies Orbius and Veil.  “Wiser to stay together,” nods Chakar.  Soon our heroes have reached a ragged blotch of jagged stone thrusting out of a choppy sea.  They easily reshape the rugged Mixel’s Tear into a shape suitable for sleeping on, rather than one requiring considerable work to find a comfortable seat.   After they make camp, Orbius does another _contact other plane._  This time his questions are guided by Horbin’s tale.

_What is the name of the demon Horbin is quested to stop?_ *Unknown.*
_What is the location of Desgren’s _rod of resurrection? *Broken.*
_Who broke the rod?_ *Desgren.*

Orbius ponders that for a while.  To the best of his knowledge, the _rod of resurrection_ in question was the _first_ example of someone returning from the dead in all of Cydran history.  It was an historic artifact.  Yet- Desgren, whoever he was, broke it himself.  Why?*

_Are the angels that Desgren encountered in his dreams embroiled in Horbin’s quest?_ *Yes.*
_What is the name of the real angel?_ *Fillestrea.*
_What is the name of the angel who is really a demon?_ *Unknown.*
_Which of the two are we likely to encounter first if we follow Horbin’s quest?_ *Unknown.*
_What is the nature of the deception that Dexter was under?_ *Evil.*
_Does this demon keep close to Dexter?_ *Unknown.*
_Is Dexter aware of the demon?_ *Yes.*
_Show me the most common guise of this demon?_ *Unknown.*
_Will a _pierce mind blank_ help me locate her?_ *Unknown.*

“She’s inscrutable,” he says afterwards, full of admiration.  He relates what he has learned- which is to say, very little, really.  Still, the religious training of Horbin is enough to fill in some of the blanks. 

“Desgren and Tharron were the two adventurers who brought Dexter- and Farenth- back from the grave,” he states gravely.  “They journeyed with him and Malford for several years, from Forinthia to Dorhaus.  That was a century and a half ago, of course, so they are both gone back to the dust from whence they came now.  Tharron is buried in the cemetery in Var; Desgren died elsewhere.”  Horbin creases his forehead.  

Alcar interjects, “My brother, Cyrax, traveled with them.”

“What!” exclaims Horbin. 

“I was an elf,” explains the Angel of Food. 

“Do you think he’d know anything about this demon?” 

“He might.”

“Where’s he at?”

_We had to hang him,_ Lester projects over the _telepathic bond._ _He went bad.  He betrayed us to Farenth._

“Just ‘cause he had the face of a pit fiend,” gripes Alcar. 

_No, just because he backstabbed us,_ Lester retorts.  He sighs.  _Cyrax was not all sweetness and light,_ he adds.

The party enjoys another good sunset as they make camp.  “Tomorrow,” Orbius observes, “we will reach the Isle of Vuivui.  We should be prepared.”

“For what?” asks Sybele.

“For orbs,” Orbius replies, his voice a harsh rasp.

_*Next Time:*_ Aberrant orbs on the Isle of Vuivui!

*There’s a great story there, as Desgren was a pc, and it involves Dzaram the Lich, whom we just saw at the spellcasters’ conference.


----------



## hippiejedi2

At the Spellcaster's Conference Veil acted super dramatic and stabbed herself when the constuct/similacra rights came up, since she is a construct, a constuct via chaos that is. I believe Veil's self-inflicted wound was to show that constucts sometimes exude a viscous substance when struck.The only reasonable response from the spellcasters was to disjunction her weapon.(probably the Delphin hehe) 

Ger played bodyguard most of the time, but was approached by Delilah the Damned, she presented a quest to the halfling, but did not divulge any details. Gerontius told her there was no one else she could depend on and to contact him in the future. 

Ger also was in favor of banning disjunctions and promised all the spellcasters that if he were the targeted recipient by that spell he would kill the caster. He also pointed out via the telepathic bond that the conference was for spellcasters and similacra are spellcasters, hence similacra should be included in the conference. It matters less how one gets their spellcasting abilities and more on whether they can sink a continent or not. 

Before we left for VuiVui, Orbeus _Permanently Enlarged_ Dorn Wankerman, Ger's cohort. In return Ger & Wankerman will each spend a minimum of one month as special guest instuctors at Lester's School of Adventure.

Also before we left for VuiVui many from our group got Wyrd's. The only one I remember offhand is Ger gave up Elevensies and can no longer walk barefoot on earth.


----------



## the Jester

*To the Isle of Vuivui*

_*7/30/371 O.L.G., 9 a.m., the Isle of Vuivui*_

As our heroes appear on the Isle of Vuivui, the first thing they notice is how far off the sun’s path they have come.  It appears not in the ecliptic they are used to, but off to the south, arcing low through the sky.  It takes only moments before the orbs start to rise from behind the large flat hills towards the isle's center.

A strange thing, a massive orb with eyes floating independently in the air all around it, is accompanied by things that can only be described as three-headed beholders.  Our heroes gulp and eye them warily as Lillamere steps up and attempts to use his considerable skill with diplomacy to talk to the weird gibbering orb.  When asked, it admits that it is Caercolli.  

“Why have you come here?” it asks in many voices at once.

“We come in peace, seeking only access to the fruit of Vuivui,” Baron Lillamere declares.

The gibbering orb mutters and then says, “You wish the blessings of Chaos?”  Its eyes linger on the _shield of Graz’zt_ that Veil bears.  Veil bows.  “You serve the cause?”

“I serve Chaos, and Lord Graz’zt,” Veil replies. 

“You will undertake a great task,” rumbles the gibbering orb.  A multitude of other voices rises up from it, sighing and laughing softly.

“Very well.  Follow me into the center of the isle.”

The group _mass flies_ up and over a shielding range of hills, dotted with trees, and then down into the center of the isle.  There are short tufts of greenish-yellow grass here and there, and a few shrubs and bushes.  Lester notes that when he was here before, it looked considerably different, and there weren’t any three-headed beholder guardians.  Indeed, in the island’s center itself- there is no tree.  Veil feels a profound disappointment.  

Instead of the Tree of Vuivui, our heroes find a small pool of glimmering, scintillating color.  As she examines it, Veil can feel a tension around it, a potentiality.  The liquid in the pool, Veil suddenly knows, is some sort of Chaos oil.  

“If you will undertake to storm the Bastion of Law,” the gibbering orb’s many voices say as one, “you may each bathe an item in the pool of power.”

Lester steps up next to Veil and starts stripping off his armor.  She reads his mind- he means to wash his armor in the Chaos.  

Inoke shakes his head.  “I don’t think this is such a good idea,” he states firmly.  “Can we get this over with quickly, please?  I’ll stand guard, but this whole thing makes me uncomfortable.”  He moves a short distance away.

Veil watches as Lester reverently places his armor in the pool, then pulls it out, rubbing it down.  The armor seems to have achieved a new sheen, shining glossily.  Veil grins and pulls her sword.  She plunges it deep within the oil of Chaos, holding it in with her hand up to the elbow.  When she pulls it out, it seems to waver in her vision for an instant.  Within it, she can feel a new, powerful energy seething and waiting to escape.

Most of the others hesitate.  Who knows what effect this will have on their items?  It is Chaos, after all.  Not to mention the commitment they are being asked to make!

Alcar takes a deep breath.  He is no servant of Chaos, but the forces of Law have used and rejected him.  The damn bureaucrats!  He owes them one anyhow!  He pulls his holy symbol of Galador from around his neck and plunges it deep into the pool.  He can feel the tingling of the Chaos oil as he prays with all his devotion.*  _Oh Galador, take this moment to show me whether you approve of my path._

For a moment, there is a flare of light from deep within the pool.  Alcar snatches his symbol from the pool and kisses it. 

“Can we go now?” complains Inoke. 

***

_*8/1/371 O.L.G., 3 p.m., Var*_

Our heroes have returned to Dorhaus.  The three of them that bathed an item have retired to try to ascertain the effects, while Horbin has determined that a _commune_ of his own is in order.  Thus he lights some incense and casts his mind into a state of deep prayer.

_Is ‘Unknown’ the name of a demon?_ *Unknown.*
_Am I speaking to Dexter?_ *Yes.*
_Has the demon I have been asking about deceived Dexter before?_ *Unknown.*
_Did Desgren break the _rod of resurrection_ to keep if from an enemy?_ *Yes.*
_Was it a lich?_ *Yes.*

_Lester told me that Dzaram the Lich was involved in the battle that led to Desgren’s vanishing in a _ prismatic spray, thinks Horbin.  _So he’s probably the lich in question.  But what if he was involved in the dreams too?_

_Was the lich either angel in the dreams of Desgren?_ *Unlikely.* 
_Does Fillestrea know the name of the demon?_ *No.*
_Do any of the companions of Dexter know of it?_ *No.*
_Have we, the party, encountered an agent of this demon in the past month?_ *Unknown.*
_Does it have fairly sophisticated protections against divination?_ *Unknown.*
_Should I keep an eye on Sybele?_ *I guess so.*

Horbin sits thinking hard about this.  _Who can we ask about this?_ he wonders.  He starts to get a few ideas.

***

_*Outside the Temple of Elemental Good*_

Lester tries to _miracle_ a Tree of Vuivui for Veil, but unfortunately, it withers and dies in only moments.  The fruit looks unhealthy, to put it mildly, so Veil again gives up in disappointment.  Really, though, she is more than satisfied with the trip; her sword fairly hums with chaotic power.

Then Horbin sends over the link, _Hey- anyone want to go to Gorel?  Lester and Alcar, especially?_

Lester relays the question to Alcar, who is not a member of the permanent _telepathic bond_.  Soon the party is assembling.

***

_*5 p.m., above Gorel*_

“What’s the plan, man?” Lester asks.

“I want to talk to dome dead people,” Horbin replies.  “I figure, maybe they can tell us something about this demon I’m seeking.”

“Dead people!” exclaims Alcar.  “My brother!”

“Possibly,” admits Horbin.  “And possibly Farenth, too.  We’re going to the location of the death of Farenth, which should be near Cyrax’s death site too.”

“We should bring my brother back,” Alcar urges.  

“He betrayed us all; it led to his fall,” Lester reminds him.

But their trip to the old pirate lair on Yafall (an isle just off the coast of Gorel) is unsuccessful.  Though they find his body, Cyrax’s spirit seems trapped.  Alcar is frustrated but helpless to do anything else about it.

The party decides to walk through the jungle for a while in the hopes of drawing out something to take their frustration and aggression out on.  So through the jungle they tromp.  As the evening deepens and the sun sinks towards the western sea, Chakar catches a glimpse of something large and reddish-white, moving amongst the trees.  The dwarf nudges Gerontius and points.  

Then some of the most savage beasts our heroes have ever fought burst out of the jungle!

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes fight big jungle nasties!


*He also burned a Wyrd, which is sort of like a fate point.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Editted by request


----------



## the Jester

Just for the record, back in 2e a pc tried to get a tree of Vuivui with a _wish_ and it didn't work then either.

Edit: since a _wish_ could get you one Chaos effect, isn't _wishing_ for a Tree of Vuivui (whose fruits can give Chaos effects) the same thing as _wishing_ for more _wishes?_

And I'm not even gonna address the crack about having it work for npcs- wish there was still a :rollseyes: smiley here!


----------



## omrob

*VuiVui*

So Big Gurl - though an Agent of Chaos - did the chaotic thing - and stayed out of any swearing about the Bastion...

She asked if there was anything else she could swear over, and was politely refused by the orb. 

Since she'd been to the Bastion before with cleric guy and the Dead Archer, our group decided to stay out of that arena, she believed and respected the decision to stay out of the War of Ethics...looks like now she has a wonderful choice of staying with her choices or helping her friends...

Yay! 

She also persuaded BIG GUY (Inoke) and I think the shining knight guy (Sir MAxwell), or the dwarven monk  to play it kool and avoid a conflict with the orb while the other pcs were busy swearing and whatnot (shes been big on the peaceful resolution thing lately being all good now...) 

Didn't a character try to dip 2 items in the pool and got hosed? Anyone remember more about that ?


----------



## hippiejedi2

*Thanks OmRob*

Wankerman dipped his +3 Defending Longspear in, which became +6 Defending Anarchic Longspear. Then Wankerman got greedy and tried to get some chaos water with a flask and ended up getting three chaos gifts; cheapskate, easily intoxicated, and needs a story to go to sleep. *The "needs a story to go to sleep" *does not* apply to magical sleep effects, a slight Jestering, since the chaos effects I think are magical effects?*

Ger traveled 60,000 miles under the impression that he would get to eat the Chaos fruit of VuiVui, so when it turned out that there was no food Ger got annoyed stayed back with Sybele, Inoke, and Company. While waiting Ger used his Leomund's Platter and did half of what he set out to do.


----------



## the Jester

*Demon Hunt*

_*The Halls of Light, Forinthia*_

In his capacity as High Priest of the Light, Prayzose has every right to be here- even if the Three Kings all object.  He kneels before a great altar, formed of gold and marble and chased with gems and jewels enough to ransom- well, an Emperor.  Behind it, flanking it, are statues of Galador and Dexter.  There might be one of Prayzose, too, had he not intervened.  Curtains of gold cloth cut off the back area from view, but Prayzose knows it well enough.  There are levers and pulleys back there that allow the entire dais (on which the altar rests) to move or sink into the ground.  Great magic of Galador prevents any terrible evil from entering.

After a long time, Prayzose rouses himself.  He has prayed devoutly, and now he ponders the wisdom of his choice.  _His ideas are liberal, and he is not afraid to stand for his principles above his obligations.  He is dangerously free-thinking- he reminds me, to some extent, of several heretical sects.  He is also close to Malford’s regime.  He has fought against Law in the Great War of Ethics.  He has associated with evil for years, those his present company is... improving in quality.  Still... at the conference of spellcasters, I found himself liking him a great deal.

And he’s the right man for the job._

High Priest (and Emperor) Prayzose sighs and issues a summons to a page, who arrives in a few moments later with a Peshan-made folding desk, a sheaf of parchments, an ink jar and a leather case full of quills.  Prayzose begins dictating a letter to Horbin the Holy.

***

_*The jungles of Gorel*_

Horrendous monsters storm from the underbrush at our heroes!  Growling masses of muscle in coats of mixed white and rust fur, the things look like some sort of weird, primal wolf with a bear’s stockiness and sheer mass.  Fear rolls off of them as they rush in at our heroes.  The battle gets ugly almost immediately, as the terrible beasts show a fascinating ability to trip (much like a wolf) and then utterly savage their victims by doing it to several of our heroes in quick succession.  There’s a lot of blood spilled in a very short time.  

Our heroes respond as they are wont to do.  Inoke strides forward, activating a variety of powers as he does, and lays into the first one, dealing an impressive blow with his mace.  The blow would crush the life from a normal dire wolf in an instant; the beast merely growls with deep anger.  The rest of the party rushes in beside him, Gerontius tumbling in to flank and flashing his daggers into the beast with uncanny speed.  Chakar tries to grab and pin one of the beasts, and though it is very, very strong, he does manage to get a hold on it for a few moments.  But when it shrugs him off it trips and savages him.

By that time, however, Gerontius’ lingering damage has weakened one of the beasts enough that it Wankerman can finish it with his spear, leaving our heroes free to focus on the remaining monster.  It fights with unbelievable ferocity, tearing and ripping at them with the sort of enthusiasm they usually save for their most powerful foes.  Which, if you think about it, makes sense, as the party probably _is_ the most powerful foes that this incredible creature has ever faced.  Lillamere keeps firing _disintegrates_ that it dodges, then finally invokes a _crushing fist of spite_ on the monster.  It pounds down, but the thing can withstand amazing amounts of punishment. Finally, as Inoke batters the thing in the ribs with a brutal blow from his mace, Gerontius makes an opportunistic attack as it whirls to face Inoke.  His dagger slashes out, catching the beast in the head as it turns, and it howls as _both of its eyes_ are cut in half.  But its howl lasts only a second, as it collapses, dead.

Baron Lillamere glances at the sun’s position in the sky.  “Well, I’ve got to go,” he announces.

“What?” asks Horbin.

“I have an audience with the Queen,” he replies.  “I’ll be back once we’re done- I’d anticipate a couple of hours.  It’s evening anyway.”  

Jezebel accompanies Lillamere, and the two _greater teleport_ back to the castle in Var.  There the Baron is soon escorted to his audience with the Queen, where he tells her of the party’s current and recent activities.  She thanks him for his loyalty and brings him up to date on current events in the interminable war between Western Dorhaus (the state she and God-King Malford lead) and the Tiger Lands (the eastern part of Dorhaus, which was once Imperial Wotan).  As it has been for the past couple of years, Goldstone is the problematic bit.  In short, it is on the eastern side of the Bendrock Mountains that bisect Dorhaus, giving the Tiger Empress a far stronger legal claim on it.  However, Malford’s men got there first, two years before the Tiger Empress’ people arrived on the scene.  They already had a thriving colony before she even laid her claim.  Goldstone, being an area rich in gold and gems, is obviously nothing that either side will give up easily.  

Meanwhile, on Gorel, Horbin has cast _find the path_ and now the group (minus Lillamere and Jezebel) stand above the unmarked grave of Farenth.  The work of exhuming the corpse of Dexter’s arch-nemesis is done quickly; the whole time, Horbin’s stomach churns.  Whatever he is expecting, he gets a simple skeleton clan in tattered rags.  

_If I remember the stories right,_ Horbin thinks suddenly, _Cyrax- Alcar’s brother- betrayed Dexter to Farenth, and then Farenth betrayed Cyrax._  He shakes his head.  _Evil consumes its own._  Then he casts _speak with dead._  The skull is not in the best of shape, but it’s enough for a small conversation to take place.

“What is your name?” Horbin demands, just to be sure.

_”Farenth”_  The answer is a rasping hiss peeled from a resentful throat.

“What do you know of Cyrax?”

_“Fool”_

“Why is he a fool?”

_“He is a sacrifice”_  There is a hint of gloating malice in the empty voice.

“Who sacrificed him?”

_“If I don’t... Dexter will”_

Horbin stops for a moment, nonplussed by that answer.  _What the hell does that mean?_ he wonders.  Aloud, he asks, “Why is it important that you be the one to do it?”

_“Not”_

“Did you serve any masters while you were alive?”

_”Yes”_

“Did it disguise itself as an angel and trick someone into resurrecting you?”

_“No”_

_Thought I had something there,_ Horbin thinks ruefully.  Phrasing his question carefully, he asks, “Do you know anything of that entity?”

_”Yes”_

“Do you know where it resides?”

_”No”_

“Is it your ally?”

There is a brief pause; then, _“Not sure”_

“Does it currently have servants that can be talked to?”

_“Don’t know”_

“Who was the last person you knew that was helping this entity?” 

_”Cyrax”_

Horbin rocks back on his feet, pondering.  Soon the group makes their camp, settling in a jungle glen with soft, loamy earth underfoot and a thick copse of trees blocking most approaches.  As their fire burns merrily, Lillamere and Jezebel rejoin them, finding them by the combination of telepathic communication and the firelight.  Horbin, still deep in thought, casts another spell: a _miracle,_ this one to ape a _commune._

_Was Cyrax offered a bribe to betray Dexter?_ *No.*
_Was Cyrax threatened into betraying Dexter?_ *Yes.*
_Was he threatened by the Unidentified Infernal Person, or U.I.P.?_ *Unknown.*
_Any time I get the answer ‘unknown,’ may I assume it has something to do with this demon?_ *Unknown.*
_Did the threat to Cyrax come from a mortal?_ *Unknown.*

_Time for a different tactic,_ Horbin thinks determinedly.

_Did Cyrax think it came from a mortal?_ *No.*

_Aha,_ thinks Horbin, _an approach!_

_Did he think it came from a god?_ *No.*
_Did he think it came from a demon or devil?_ *Yes.*
_Did he think it came from a demon?_ *Uncertain.*
_Did he receive the threats mentally?_ *Yes.*
_Through dreams?_ *Yes.*
_Were there themes in the dreams so that Cyrax would know that it was a threatening dream?_ *Yes.*
_Did Cyrax receive threats exclusively through dreams?_ *Yes.*
_Were the themes of the dreams typical of horror motifs?_ *Yes.*
_Was there one motif that stood out?_ *Yes.*
_Did he himself express this motif at any point?_ *No.*
_Did he develop any irrational fears because of this motif?_ *No.*
_Did the motif involve blood?_ *No.*
_Images of the body mutilated, torture, etc?_ *No.*
_Unholy symbols?_ *No.*
_Was Cyrax a willing participant in the betrayal of Dexter?_

*YES.*

Horbin’s head rings for a moment.  That one word has the sound of judgment.

_Did he know he was being used?_ *Yes.*
_Did Cyrax expect to benefit from the betrayal?_ *Yes.*
_Did he tell anyone of his plans or expectations of good fortune in the near future?_ *No.*
_Does the motif in the dreams involve an aberration?_ *No.*

Horbin shares what he’s learned with the rest of the party after he comes down from his state of communion.  

“Maybe we can ask Mary 9 about it,” suggests Inoke.  “She knows lots of stuff.”

“Mary 9!” exclaims Alcar.  “She and I go way back!  And she _does_ know lots of stuff.”

The group agrees, Inoke with reservations.  Mary 9 is a construct shaped like an attractive female tabaxi, and Hobbes, leader of the tabaxi of Dorhaus, is her... owner?  Man?  It’s hard to say.  And Hobbes was an old friend of Drelvin, who died at the hands of Inoke; and even though Inoke was _confused_ at the time, he slew Drelvin- an event Hobbes has, so far, shown no interest in forgiving.

Inoke sighs as the group _greater teleports_ not far from the border of the tabaxi lands.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes get a name for their adversary at last!


----------



## the Jester

*Demon Hunt (pt 2)*

_*7:30 p.m., the Valley of Hobbes, Dorhaus*_

Thimbleton and Hobbes are pouring over a collection of maps of impressively-distant lands, deeply immersed in planning, when a tabaxi messenger enters the tent.  In the rolling, sibilant tongue of the cat-folk he speaks.  “My Lord, visitors have come.  Drelvin’s killer is here again, and his friends.  They say it is very important.”

Hobbes’ face reaches a studied calm, but his heart fills with rage.  “I told him not to return here,” he snarls. His voice betrays his emotions.

“Hey, calm down, Hobbes,” Thimbleton urges.  “I’ve met him.  He means well.  And Malford told me what happened to Drelvin.  He was a good friend- but it was an accident.  That guy didn’t _mean_ to kill him.”

Hobbes spits.  “He is _gone.”_

Thimbleton sighs and nods.  “I know, but they tried to bring him back.  Listen, let’s just go find out what it is they want.  We sort of owe them one- after all, they are the ones who told the Queen that Belmondo is missing.”

Hobbes nods after a moment.  “You are right.  He must be here for something important enough to risk my wrath.  I’ll hear him out.”  He looks at Thimbleton steadily.  “As always, old friend, your counsel is wise.”

***

When Hobbes arrives, the _Bloodsword_ dripping in its scabbard, Thimbleton is right behind him.  The party explains their quest- they are seeking information on the identity of a powerful demon who has tampered with them in the past.  Once they give what details they know, Thimbleton nods briskly.  “It’s a good thing I’m here!” he exclaims.  “I can shed some light on part of what was going on, at least- I think I know what the lever used to make Cyrax betray us was.”

Thimbleton explains that, in the early days of his adventuring career, he and a band of stout adventurers including Desgren, Tharron, Cyrax, Dexter and Malford had stormed the Temple of Elemental Evil.  It was a huge, sprawling complex of evil and foulness, and while they were in there, they found a magical cloak that allowed the wearer to turn himself into a gargoyle.  “The problem with the _cloak of the gargoyle_ was that it eventually turned his _mind_ into that of a gargoyle as well.  Well, when this happened he flew off and we thought we’d lost him- but later he returned, in his elven form again.  He told us he’d had to make a deal to be restored; it was never made clear exactly what the deal was, but from the pieces I’d put together, I suspect it was this same demon.  Let me check my journals and see if I have a note of the name.”  He _greater teleports_ away.  Twenty minutes later he is back.

“Seclaidra,” he says.

***

_8:45 p.m., Sigil_[/b]

In Sigil, everyone recognizes our heroes.  Fiends pointedly get out of the way of them in the street.  Awed glances follow them.  Everybody knows- _they killed Asmodeus._  The notoriety is... interesting.

After spending some time getting lost on the streets of Sigil (Inoke is _sure_ he knows the way to the Eyebrary), our heroes stumble across the bound form of the giant blue four-armed creature that they fought once before.  At the time it was a clockwork servitor, bound to the forces of Law as they prepared a major assault on the Eyebrary.  Now it is in a mostly-abandoned section of the City of Doors, bound in place.  Our heroes debate freeing it, but it hates buildings and they decide not to risk getting kicked out of Sigil.

When they finally reach the Library of Boccob, the doors swing open to admit them.  The Eye of Boccob, as he calls himself, or the Eyebrarian, as the party calls him, quickly helps them find out a few things about Seclaidra.  She is apparently a queen of succubi and mistress of an entire layer of the Abyss.  She is known to have acted indirectly much more that directly.  They compare their notes on her with his concerning the time around the Second Coming of Dexter and fill in a few more details.  Apparently, from the Eyebrarian’s deductions, Seclaidra had sent dreams of herself garbed as an angel to trick Desgren and Tharron into raising Farenth, but why she did this is unknown, since Farenth did not seem to know that she was aiding him.  Moreover, the fact that Cyrax was betrayed by Farenth after being coerced by Seclaidra into betraying Dexter _to_ Farenth leaves in question whether Farenth even _knew_ that Cyrax was going to aid him.  Why, then, was Seclaidra aiding Farenth?

Farenth was a servant of Bleak.  Seclaidra is very old- claiming to predate Bleak- but has worked to further mutual interests with Bleak on a number of occasions.  It’s the only thing our heroes can put together on that score.  

Regardless, the Eye of Boccob has one more, very key, piece of information: Seclaidra’s layer of the Abyss is the 109th.

By now it has gotten fairly late, and our heroes are fatigued.  They secure rooms in a nearby boarding house for the night and soon are abed.

***

_*8/2/371 O.L.G., 9 a.m., Sigil*_

Over breakfast, the party talks strategy.  Lillamere comes up with a good one. 

“_Superior teleport,_” he says.  “It’s not a divination but it can take you to a person’s location.”

“Will that work?” wonders Inoke.

“That’s a very interesting idea,” remarks Horbin.  

“Let’s put it into play,” smiles Chakar.

“_After_ breakfast,” insists Gerontius, waving a forkful of sausage in the air.

***

*1 p.m., the 109th layer of the Abyss*

Our heroes _plane shift_ in to a blasted landscape.  Purple lightning etches a dull red sky with no sun.  Jagged fingers of rock thrust spear like from the ground.  Gnarled, misshaped rocks are everywhere.  The ground is covered in black jagged gravel.

The party casts a succession of buffing spells, preparing to do battle.  Once they are ready, Lillamere unrolls a scroll he purchased an hour before in the markets of Sigil.  The writing on the scroll burns with an unearthly orange fire as he reads the _superior teleport.

And, in a flash, they arrive at a scene fairly swarming with mariliths and succubi.  The demons are gathered around a large sarcophagus on a wind-swept mountain side of the jagged stone.  Immediately our heroes spring into action, starting to deal devastating wounds to the demons.  Which one is she? wonders Horbin grimly, and then the entire party feels a powerful enchantment wash over them.  Fortunately, they are all mind blanked except for Veil, who is a construct, and none of them are affected.

Then the succubus who just tried that turns to the mariliths near the sarcophagus and cries out, “Release the undead god!”

*Next Time:* Oops, an undead god!_


----------



## omrob

*Jezebel*

I just wanted to make one footnote pertaining to the visit with the Queen...

Jezebel actually pledged herself to Moira's service after she showed  off a couple of her more interesting talents.

She's mastered the spell Malford's Dopplegangment (allowing her to turn into perfect replicas of individuals, Malford in this case)  and then did some greater invisibility ranged ledgermain stuff...

Ahhh the Arcane Trixter

And so Moira accepted and Jezebel stayed behind. At this point there is like a 10 lvl diff between Jez and Sybele so shes off in a "safer" place at the moment. Jez was at her "max XP" too as a cohort...

Jester promised us a cohort game soon...so we'll see...


----------



## Knightfall

the Jester said:
			
		

> Then the succubus who just tried that turns to the mariliths near the sarcophagus and cries out, “Release the undead god!”




Oh Damn!


----------



## the Jester

One point that the players discussed (but I didn't answer at the time, just smirked) was this:

Why the hell did they arrive _just when the bad guys happened to be ready to open said sarcophagus??_  What kinda timing is that??

The answer is simple, but the pcs haven't stumbled on it, so I'll fess up on this one: _greater anticipate teleport._  Seclaidra _wasn't_ at the sarcophagus when Lillamere read his scroll; she _was_ after the _superior teleport_ resolved, several rounds later.

Ironically, this is a trick that the pcs taught me in the big crossover. 

Edit: Just checked my notes, it was actually her chief bodyguard that had it, who died in like round 1 of the fight.    :\


----------



## Greybar

Bwwaaahahaha.  That's a great trick, Jester, and oh so tasty to turn it back on the players...


----------



## the Jester

Greybar said:
			
		

> Bwwaaahahaha.  That's a great trick, Jester, and oh so tasty to turn it back on the players...




Yes, but on the other hand they were _very_ clever to come up with the _superior teleport_ idea, bypassing the inscrutability by not using divination.


----------



## Brain

Yeah, _Superior Teleport _ really helped (even though she was ready for it).  We had been having a very hard time finding out anything about the quest for what seemed like a long time.  Thank goodness for Mary 9 and the Eyebrarian!


----------



## Greybar

It does seem odd.  I mean, wouldn't the _Superior Teleport_ have to have a divination component to find where the target was.  It's kinda like epic spells, they have multiple seeds - not necessarily all one school.


----------



## the Jester

Greybar said:
			
		

> It does seem odd.  I mean, wouldn't the _Superior Teleport_ have to have a divination component to find where the target was.  It's kinda like epic spells, they have multiple seeds - not necessarily all one school.




I gave this a great deal of thought when they came up with it and decided to take a strict interpetation of both _superior teleport_ and Seclaidra's _inscrutability_ ability.

Edit: thus throwing the party a bone.


----------



## Greybar

When in doubt, go by the book.  Probably a good call.


----------



## Murazor

Greybar said:
			
		

> When in doubt, go by the book.  Probably a good call.




Except of course,the spell isn't in any book. (Not in any that I know, at least). I'm fairly sure it's a Cydra homebrew spell.

By strict interpretation of the rules, it will probably work. And considering the resourcefulness of the players in coming up with this solution, it might also be the correct call to allow it at this time. But personally, I feel that the loophole granted by Superiour Teleport is even more powerful than, for instance, a Discern Location. (It's mostly a combination of Discern Location combined with Greater Teleport)

The *real* trouble, for the PCs at least, is when NPCs start using/abusing this. Also, all normally available protections from Scrying/Divination magic are no longer suitable. This will probably lead to a "Magical Arms Race"*, where there will be a new version of the spells which closes this particular loophole. At least, until the next exception is found. Personally, I think I would say the proper school for Superiour Teleport is probably "Divination [Teleport]". Or you could just houserule that spells can be part of multiple schools at the same time (as per the epic spell seeds).

* [rant] This is something I really don't like, and feel that D&D already gravitates too much towards. I feel blanket immunities for all sorts of things are way too easy to come by. (Deathward/Soulfire vs much of Necromancy, True Seeing vs Illusion, Mind Blank vs Enchantment, Energy Immunity vs Evocation/Conjuration energy spells). Instead of immunity, I think it would be better to grant a bonus on saves. 
Fortunately, they are already starting to create countermeasures for some, like Piercing Cold in Frostburn vs Cold Immune (and a Fire version in Sandstorm) [/rant]


----------



## hippiejedi2

*More Ranting*

With respect to the ranting, the way to get around immunities is to get spells that are more powerful. For instance, to get around Secleidra's inscrutability, we used superior teleport, which like you said is kind of like a spell with aspects from two different schools, but did not violate any rules.

Perhaps a better solution would be lesser and greater versions of immunity type spells like a lesser mind blank. Or spells that attack defensive spells.

Abjuration is a school that specializes in defense, though protections of low level should not be able to _easily_ defeat a spell several levels higher.


----------



## Greybar

I'm not a huge fan of immunities either.  I'm thinking that barring some exceptions (fire elementals immune to fire since they're *made* of fire) I'd prefer changing "immune to" to "+10 SV versus".

But Immune is a lot faster to play than keeping track of all of the bonuses to SVs.

For the scry vs. protection, a caster level check is probably a pretty good place to start.  If you want to figure caster level + spell level + d20 that might help give the advantage to the higher power spells like Superior Teleport (whatever level that is).

But back to the story and the undead gods!


----------



## the Jester

hippiejedi2 said:
			
		

> Perhaps a better solution would be lesser and greater versions of immunity type spells like a lesser mind blank. Or spells that attack defensive spells.




Hmm, can't recall offhand what it's called but I do have a homebrewed 'abjuration dispeller' spell.  Just what the doctor ordered! 


Edit: ah, here we are- _disrupt protections,_ sor/wiz 5.


----------



## cold1s

the Jester said:
			
		

> Hmm, can't recall offhand what it's called but I do have a homebrewed 'abjuration dispeller' spell.  Just what the doctor ordered!
> 
> 
> Edit: ah, here we are- _disrupt protections,_ sor/wiz 5.



Ouch, has Horben seen that?!
Another "To do" on the Epic Spell casting action item list...
-W
(As H the MFKG H Focuses in Abjurations)


----------



## Krafus

Yeesh. An undead god might be beyond the abilities of even these epic-level PCs... Maybe this is a lesson of "no matter how powerful you become, there always someone who can beat you."


----------



## the Jester

*The Undead God*

Beneath a crimson sky spiked with violet coruscations of lightning, the collective twelve arms of a pair of powerful marilith demons lift off the lid of a great sarcophagus.  A puff of stale air hisses out as the seal is broken for the first time in- how long?  A cloud of dust disperses out from the coffin, and a scent of old, dried herbs drifts up into the Abyssal air.  

All around is bedlam, as our heroes engage the demonic force assembled around them.  The mariliths slither forward, blades slashes and cutting.  Two of them have spiked chains with which they deliver shattering blows.  Inoke, Veil, Alcar and Gerontius engage them in melee while Sybele fires at the succubus who issued the command a moment ago.  That command- _”Release the undead god!”-_ worries her a great deal. 

Indeed it should.  The succubi summon a small troop of vrocks, who immediately attack the party; but then the succubi themselves then begin to _greater teleport_ away, leaving the vrocks to do the work. 

Sternly, Horbin casts a _destruction_ upon the lead succubus.  She laughs deprecatingly, but Horbin notices that his spell penetrates her innate resistance and harms her somewhat, even if he does not slay her outright.  This much, at least, he finds reassuring; she is not completely beyond them.  She _must be_ their target, he reasons.

Then he thinks of Asmodeus and smiles inwardly.

Lillamere hits Seclaidra- _Surely that’s her, if she’s bossing mariliths around,_ the elf reasons- with a _puncture,_ and he is pleased when it affects her.  Though it doesn’t blow off a limb, it does inflict significant damage to her.  An arrow from Sybele’s new quiver flies out and sinks into the flesh of Seclaidra’s pale shoulder.  She gives a mocking smile and arches an eyebrow at the party as she vanishes.  Horbin curses, realizing that he should have _dimensionally anchored_ her immediately.

It is at that moment that something claws its way up from the sarcophagus- a horribly desiccated form, 13’ high, wrapped in tattered bandages.  Hateful light burns in its eyes.  With a contemptuous gesture, it unleashes a _chain lightning_ that blasts throughout the party.  Then it makes another gesture and Horbin feels himself shaken by a powerful spell that almost slays him outright.

The demons (other than the mariliths and vrocks) have pretty much _teleported_ away and left the field to our heroes, the remaining demons and the undead god.  _Just as well,_ thinks Horbin wryly.

The demons are being cut down left and right.  Our heroes overmatch them.  But the undead god- that’s an unknown quantity.  It roars out, *”I AM A GOD- BOW DOWN AND WORSHIP ME!”*

Our heroes are less willing to do that than to try to defeat it.  Alcar blasts it with _sunbeams_ while Inoke rushes into melee with it.  The undead god roars and smashes Alcar with a mighty fist.  The Angel of Food falls back a moment, shaking his head; the blow was formidable!  Sybele, Veil and Gerontius finish the last of the demons that remain in combat, and Lillamere and Horbin turn their attentions to the undead god.  Inoke pounds it with all his might, knocking it down in the sarcophagus again.  It starts to twitch immediately and scrabbles at the walls of its sarcophagus, trying to drag itself back out.  “It’s regenerating!” Inoke cries.  “Someone got some fire?”

But alas, fire does not keep it down.  Alcar tries channeling a greater turning attempt, but it doesn’t seem to affect the undead deity.  Our heroes hit it with a little of everything, but the undead god shows a tenacious level of regeneration.  Finally, grunting with frantic effort, Inoke and Sybele muscle the lid back onto the sarcophagus, and then our heroes sit on the lid for a moment, wondering what to do about it.  The sounds of pounding begin to come incessantly from within as the undead god hammers at the lid from within, but it soon becomes clear that it is sealed within, at least for now.

While Gerontius and Veil strip the valuables from the fallen mariliths, Horbin examines the sarcophagus for any indication of the nature of the power.  The inscriptions on it are worn almost smooth by time, but Horbin notes a few images that he can barely make out.  “I think this is some kind of god of hunger or famine,” he remarks. 

“That’s awful!” cries Gerontius, appalled. 

Baron Lillamere frowns.  “Does anyone else see a pattern emerging here?”

“Huh?” asks Sybele.

He sighs.  “This old dead god... the stuff at the Bottom of the Multiverse, with the Void Masters and Orcus... Na’Rat’s relatively recent return from obscurity... it seems like there’s something bringing a lot of _old powers_ back to prevalence.”*

“Regardless, what are we going to do with it?” demands Horbin.  “We certainly can’t just leave it here- the potential for misuse is... staggering.”

“True enough,” agrees Lillamere.  

“There’s the _sphere of annihilation_,” suggests Inoke.

“No there isn’t,” replies Baron Lillamere.  “He destroyed it.”

”Then what?” wonders Inoke. 

“We could put it into the Positive Energy Plane- that’s supposed to be really bad for undead,” suggests Alcar.  

“Hsst!”  Inoke gestures.  Over the mental link, he warns his friends, _There’s an invisible succubus over there!_  He gestures.

“Show yourself!” cries Baron Lillamere aloud.

”Peace!” comes a voice, and a succubus fades into visibility.  “I come to speak!  Please, I implore you- do not blast me!”

Horbin rants, “We should blast you, demon!  What do you want?”

Nervously, the demoness replies, “I come at my mistress’ bidding.  She... she wishes no conflict with you.  She respects your... noteworthy power and accomplishments.”

Alcar scowls at her.  

“She wishes to know why you have targeted her.  If you will give your guarantee of safe-conduct, she will come speak to you herself.”

Our heroes burst into an angry babble as they discuss whether to speak to the demoness they are seeking.  Chakar scowls and points out that, as a demon, they can hardly expect Seclaidra to keep her side of the bargain.  On the other hand, if they don’t parlay with her, she might be extremely difficult to locate again.  Alcar grunts.  After a few moments, the group decides to accede to the succubus’ request.

”We promise not to attack her as long as she doesn’t start anything,” Inoke vows, a warning plain in his voice.  “But if she, or any of her agents, starts anything, we will finish it.”

“No duplicity,” warns Horbin.

The succubus nods.  “Of course.”

“And she comes alone,” Gerontius adds.

“Never,” the demonic envoy replies, shaking her head.  “She is no fool.  She will bring a troop of guards, but they will not lift a hand against you unless she commands it.  And she will not do that unless you attack- she is no fool, I say again.  She- we all- know what you have done.”  _Asmodeus._  The implication is clear.

Our heroes are slowly beginning to realize that, to all appearances, they have the Abyss and the Nine Hells both... _intimidated.  Unbelievable,_ thinks Horbin the MFKG Holy.  _Who would have ever thought that the demons and devils would be running scared from us instead of the other way around!_

The party again huddles in discussion.  Inoke is uncomfortable with the whole idea of negotiating a solution with a demon.  “I say we strike her down,” he urges.  “Failing that, make your deal and let’s get out of here.  I don’t want to be a part of any kind of negotiations.”  The others agree that the more complicated any deal-making gets, the more likely they are to have loopholes and bad results.  Dealing with demons is a notoriously bad idea in general.  However, the party does seem to have the upper hand... and if they don’t let her come to them here, what’s to stop her from coming back to release the undead god again if they seek her elsewhere, especially if they can’t think of a good way to destroy or imprison the sarcophagus?  Finally, after protracted arguments, they agree to allow Seclaidra to bring her bodyguard.  

And a moment later they arrive- a crowd of succubi, vrocks and mariliths.  And in the lead is the most beautiful woman ever, even more beautiful, perhaps, than Estelias the Enchantress.  Her delicate horns and leathery wings are the only things that spoil the effect. 

_*Next Time:*_ Negotiations!

*Na’Rat is a god of the ancient Peshta culture, which is extinct and predates modern humans on Pesh.  Archaeological digs unearthed the first _obelisk of Na’Rat_ about a century and a half ago.  The Orcus reference refers to the mysterious goings-on at the weird fortress in the Negative Energy Plane involving the creatures called the Void Masters, who asked our heroes to try to find the _wand of Orcus_ for them.  And, of course, there’s the undead god right in the casket there.


----------



## the Jester

*Negotiations with a Demon*

The scene is surreal.  Our heroes, including an angel, stand on the rocky ground of the Abyss, jagged violet lightning playing with a hiss in the sky.  Opposite them are a small horde of demons, and leading them is the demoness our heroes have been seeking.  At last: Seclaidra, known as the Perplexing Bitch. 

And she has come to talk.

”What is it you want?” she asks politely.

“The only thing we want from you,” Alcar barks, and then he visibly asserts control over himself, “is for you to come back to the Light.”  He smiles and adds, “Here- have some pie.  Perhaps it will help you to find you way.”  With a prayer, he _creates food and drink,_ holding a slice of delicious berry pie out to Seclaidra.

”Why thank you,” she replies, and takes the pie.  “I do not think I will walk in the Light, alas; but I appreciate the offer.”  She takes a bite.  “And the pie,” she adds with a twinkle.  She chews, sighs, swallows.  “Delicious,” she comments, and then: “Perhaps I can offer you something in return, Angel of Food.”  She gestures and one of her succubi attendants walks forward and takes his arm.  “This is Zythla,” she announces.  “She is yours.”

“What!” cries Alcar.  “I do not want a demon!  Let loose of me!” he adds, as she begins running her fingers over his chest.  He turns away sternly.  “I refuse your gift!”

“Come now, Alcar,” Seclaidra purrs.  “How better to turn her back to the Light?  Is anyone really beyond hope, even a demon?”  Zythla gives her best pout to Alcar.  

“I don’t know about this,” cautions Lillamere.  “I don’t know if we need-”

“All right,” Alcar states firmly.  “I will try to turn her to the Light!  And I will succeed!”

“You do have all the time you need, after all,” Seclaidra says gently.  

_Can we just please get this over with?_ Inoke pleads over the link.  _I don’t want to be a party to any deal with a demon._

“What do you want?” demands Chakar.

“What do _you_ want?” counters the demoness.  “It is because of you that I came here.  You came to attack me.  Why is that?”

“You have been tampering with Cydra,” Horbin states firmly.  “You deceived Dexter himself.  You have deceived us, if I’m not mistaken.  You must be stopped.”

She considers him.  “What if I offer to stay physically out of your region of Cydra for 200 years?”

“What do you mean by ‘region’?” demands Sybele.

“The Near-Forinthian Region,” Seclaidra meanwhile replies.  “From Dorhaus to Bordis and from Dorla to Tirchond.”

“No.  That’s not enough.”  Inoke has let himself be drawn into the conversation against his better judgment.  “She’ll just act through agents.  Besides, whatever deal we make, she’s just going to break as soon as it’s expedient.  She’s a _demon._  We can’t trust her.”  He wants, very badly, to charge; but the party offered their guarantee of safety to the demon.  _We’re going to have to fight her anyway sooner or later,_ he predicts dourly through the _telepathic bond.  Let’s just get this over with and leave, or make your damn deal and let’s go._

“You must have no contact, direct or indirect, with anyone on Cydra,” demands Horbin.

Seclaidra snorts.  “I will not abandon my followers,” she retorts.  “Is not fidelity a virtue?”  She studies the cleric’s face.  “Would you force me to sin even more?  How about this: I will not personally visit Cydra for 500 years; nor will I send any demons or agents to Dorhaus for that time.”

“That’s nothing,” scoffs Baron Lillamere.  “How old are you, thousands of years?  More?”

“Much more.”  Seclaidra smiles and studies the angel Alcar.  “I predate your Galador,” she says softly. 

“What!” Alcar cries disbelievingly.

She chuckles.  “Yes- I come from _before._  I know the Master of Darkhold.”

The reference is lost on none of our heroes.  Though not all of them have been to Darkhold, they have all heard Lester’s tales of it.  Though Lester’s telling is always somewhat inchoate, apparently Darkhold is its own plane (?) or demi-plane (?) or something, but it contains (or contained?) all of Cydra.  Apparently the entirety of the multiverse was created as a sort of simulation by a powerful entity that had fled a previous universe that had been devoured by a dark and powerful entity called Tharizdun.  It was this entity that empowered Felenga, the Dark One, and Fuligin, who destroyed all civilization and nearly all non-evil life on Dorhaus.

Lester has regaled the party many times with the story of going back in time via Darkhold, back to the ashes of the previous universe, and thence back further to acquire the necessary components to create a new Nature to replace the one devoured by Tharizdun and make Cydra real.  It all seems bizarre and sort of ontological to our heroes, but they know enough to put a few things together. 

For one, they have to wonder if she might be another agent of Tharizdun.  This suddenly puts the negotiations in a different light.

“Is the Master of Darkhold your enemy?” asks Horbin, knowing the Master is opposed to the agents of the dark god that ate the previous multiverse.*

“No,” she replies.  She seems genuinely surprised at the question.

“An ally, then?”

“At times.”

The party debates among themselves for a time, then renews the debate over terms with Seclaidra.  They go back and forth, seeking terms agreeable to all of them.  The whole time, Inoke is increasingly unhappy.  Gerontius even suggests they sleep on it.

Finally, Seclaidra sighs.  “It seems we cannot come to an agreement.”  She raises a hand and indicates one direction.  “My castle is called the Hall of the Back Silk.  It is twelve miles in that direction.”  She vanishes, and her entourage follows her a moment later.

“Does that mean that the deal is off?” Inoke grimaces.  

The party debates an immediate assault on Seclaidra’s castle, but they have already expended a considerable number of spells.  If they’re to fight a demon lord, it would be best to start off fresh.  The party determines to rest a night first, the next day, the party has an intervention for the succubus.  All day long they exhort goodness and morality at her, reciting passages from the Galadron and other holy writings.  Alcar and Horbin argue theology with her, trying to demonstrate that it is in her best interest to turn to the Light, to soar above into the Heavens instead of plummeting back into the Abyss.

She is a demon, of course; but in a way that works to their advantage.  Her innate sense of self-interest is pricked by the points the angel and the cleric make concerning her eventual fate.  She laughs inwardly at first at their morality tales, but the tales ring true.  In the end, being good is best for one’s own self.

Zythla the succubus has an epiphany.  She sees the Light.  She remains in Gorel, praying and meditating while the others move on.

Before they leave, the party discusses their next course of action.  “We need to go attack her now,” insists Horbin.  “I have to deal with her, one way or the other.”

“What about that undead god?”  Inoke looks at the others steadily.  “I think we have to do something about that thing.”

“Maybe we should go back to the Eyebrary and see what we can learn about places to imprison things,” suggests Gerontius.

“We should try Carceri,” suggests Wankerman.

“What?” Gerontius looks to his cohort.

”Carceri,” Wankerman repeats.  “It’s a plane of imprisonment.  It’s hard to find a way out of there- it doesn’t let go, it holds on to you pretty much forever.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to go there, then,” Horbin replies.  

“No, but maybe we could open a _gate_ in and push the sarcophagus through,” suggests Inoke. 

First they _wind walk_ to the town of Shorult in order that Alcar can donate to the orphanage in town.  Then they _plane shift_ to Olympus where they _superior teleport_ to the nearest portal to Sigil, seeking a new and different way in.  They find themselves in the midst of a party of partying folk called the bacchae.  It turns out that in order to go through the portal, they must first debauch themselves, as befits Olympus, and so by the time the portal will activate for them they are drunk.

Then they stagger through the portal to Sigil, Inoke leading the way.

_*Next Time:*_ One of one angel vs. devil match!


*As a side note, this is how my old campaign world ended, after a good 10-12 years of intense gaming in it that covered thousands of years of game time.  Never let it be said that I’m afraid to let things progress to their logical conclusion...


----------



## Cheiromancer

Yay!  Another update!

And what is it with succubi and conversion, anyways?


----------



## Greybar

Hmm... I don't trust that "conversion".  Too easy, and too much smelling of a plant.  She hangs around, learns more about what the heroes do, and communicates that back to her mistress.

I wonder if she can eavesdrop in on their telepathic communications?


----------



## the Jester

I let them convert her by appealing to her better nature and showing her the theological consequences of staying evil (and by making something like a DC 50 or 60 Knowledge (religion) check).  

I had originally dangled the succubus offer strictly for the sake of temptation.  Needless to say I was more than surprised when Alcar took her.  He's actually going to take her as his cohort now (!).


----------



## Cheiromancer

Do you have a template for a "risen demon"?  Or do you just change the alignment, but keep all the subtypes and abilities?


----------



## the Jester

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> Do you have a template for a "risen demon"?  Or do you just change the alignment, but keep all the subtypes and abilities?




I've always known that I would need a template eventually.   I figure, mostly, it will change the alignment-based abilities.  I haven't yet created it. 

As to Zyltha, I haven't yet statted her up, I've been thinking pretty heavily about what to do with her.  She needs to be prolly ECL 17 (per Alcar's leadership score), so she has room for a number of class levels on top of 'risen succubus'.  

I was thinking that it would be interesting to give her levels in fiend of corruption, then apply the risen template and make her a 'temptress of good' kind of figure. 

Any cool ideas?


----------



## Cheiromancer

This is what I would do for a "risen fiend:"

Remove the [evil] subtype.
Natural and wielded weapons no longer count as evil (this follows from the previous item)
Remove /good from the DR.  (The succubus now has DR 10/cold iron)
Since this is an improvement to her DR, add iron vulnerability: Cold Iron does +50% damage.
Change the home plane to the Astral (for purposes of Banishment and so on).
Use of an evil racial ability imposes a 24 hour negative level (only the succubus energy drain feature is affected, I think)
[edit] Nope.  Energy Drain is not evil! [/edit]
Cosmetic changes.  I would think a fey/nymphlike form rather than an angelic one.  Butterfly wings instead of her previous bat wings or feathered wings.  Or maybe no wings at all.

I think fiend of possession would also be a good choice for Zyltha.  It makes sense for a succubus, and a redeemed succubus could be an "inspiring spirit" for someone; giving a bonus to items, or a +4 bonus to a soul they "ride."  Charm and suggestion would aid the "inspiring spirit" role because the succubus can give evil beings the experience of doing good and avoiding evil.  They wouldn't be fully responsible for these actions, since magical compulsion would be involved, but they could decide they like them (especially with some diplomacy checks to build on them).

A fiend of possession could inhabit evil items (or the items of evil creatures) and curse them; this will weaken them and make them more likely to see the error of their path.

Still, I don't think a redeemed succubus would be quite on the side of the angels, yet.  She might be Chaotic Good, but she wouldn't yet have the [good] subtype.  Some of her abilities and tactics might be a bit short of the purity of a true celestial.  She might even lapse to CN actions at times.

Think of ex-vengeance demon Anya in Buffy: the Vampire Slayer.  Not evil, but not quite an angel, either.


----------



## Greybar

I think keeping her only moved to CN also has good plot implications, particularly in the context of the War of Ethics.  I like the negative level for using evil abilities - in fact I'd love to see the situation where the party *needs* her to use an evil racial ability to get something done.  The party has a great moral-quandry nature already to work with, too.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Per Greybar and Cheiromancer,

A redeemed fiend would be unlikely to move completely back into the light.  Having already cast Galador (or whomever) aside, she might want to consider a newer Good god, if any.  Mayber Dexter?  Or maybe no one, and just be content to use her morality as her spiritual guide.

-AoA


----------



## hippiejedi2

Why did Alcar donate to the orphanage, aside from the fact that he is an angel?

I believe everyone present donated to the orphanage, Ger gave like 1,985 gp and Wankerman gave like 15 gp, since he became stingy due to chaos effects.


----------



## the Jester

*Angel v. Devil, One on One*

_*8/5/371 O.L.G., 1:30 p.m., the streets of Sigil*_

Our heroes stagger drunkenly around the crazy-quilt of streets, Inoke insisting he knows the way to the Library of Boccob.  The key to entry via Olympus makes for an... interesting time.  Our heroes may attract looks from those around them, but they slew Asmodeus, didn’t they?  Who is going to get in _their_ way?

A pit fiend steps in their way.

More specifically, he steps into Alcar’s way.

The Angel of Food comes to a halt, staring balefully at the devil.  

“You’re the folks that killed Asmodeus, aren’t you?” the devil smiles at Alcar.

“That’s right!” answers Sybele.  Alcar just stares hard at the pit fiend.

“You don’t look so tough,” the fiend says scornfully.

Alcar laughs in disbelief.  “We killed Asmodeus,” he points out needlessly.

“Asmodeus ruled from behind a desk,” the pit fiend sneers.  Our heroes cannot believe his audacity!

“So are you saying you want to take us all on?” Alcar chuckles.

“No- just _you._”

“No way,” Sybele says immediately.  “Let’s punk this guy.”  She pulls out her bow.

The pit fiend sneers again, and Alcar holds up a hand, stilling Sybele for the moment.  “Hold on.  You’re saying you want to fight me, one on one?  You won’t summon any devils to help you?”

The pit fiend smiles.  “That’s right.”

Alcar considers.  “Until one surrenders?”

“To the death,” the pit fiend demands.  Our heroes are none too pleased.

”To the death,” Alcar agrees.

“I’ll kill you,” the fiend promises.  “But your friends have to promise not to intervene against me.”

“Sure,” Sybele lies.  

“I’m not promising you anything,” Inoke growls, even as Horbin says, “We’re not promising you anything.”  Horbin continues, “If you want to fight him one on one, that’s fine, Alcar.  But we’ll make sure that there is no treachery.  And if we deem it necessary to intervene to undo treachery against you, we will.”

A crowd is gathering.  Our heroes endeavor to keep them at a fair distance.  Most of the watchers appear to be above the norm in terms of survivability- either more powerful planar creatures, experienced adventurers or the like.  The plebes have fled.  They don’t want to see a street fight with a pit fiend.

And then the fight begins, with the fiend leaping to the attack first, blasting a quickened _fireball_ and uttering a _blasphemy_ that dazes the angel.  The devil takes the opportunity to lay into the celestial before him with terrible force, clawing and knocking Alcar back.  The angel, daunted by this initial sally, attempts a _banishment,_ which fails; then he flies back, trying to gain some distance.

“Hah!  You are frightened” the pit fiend taunts.  “Fool!  I will kill you!”  He invokes an _unholy aura_.  With a grim smile, Alcar invokes a _holy aura_ in response.  The pit fiend becomes _invisible_ and begins winging its way forward towards him.

Alcar utters a prayer and an _invisibility purge_ flares, revealing the pit fiend clearly.  “It seems that you are the one that is afraid!” he cries sternly.  

Then the two of them are rushing together, claws and teeth and wings and tail smashing against Alcar’s armor and his mace smashing into the pit fiend’s ribs.  The angel weathers the pit fiend’s attacks, landing a good solid blow of his own, and then steps back and fills himself with Galador’s _righteous might._  However, the fiend of the pit simply targets a _greater dispelling_ on Alcar, and the angel shrinks back to his normal size.  Worse, his _holy aura_ vanishes!

The two clash at arms again until the pit fiend missteps and stumbles back.  Alcar withdraws long enough to _heal_ himself, while the pit fiend snarls.  They spring together again, blood flying from both of them, and then the pit fiend cries out a _power word_ that stuns Alcar!  Viciously, the devil slashes and bites and batters the valiant Alcar, and deals him many deep wounds.  Alcar shakes off the effects of the Word of Power and the pit fiend snarls again.

”I tire of this,” the fiend grates.  “This battle is pointless!”  He vanishes.

“He teleported!” cries Alcar.

”Gather, quick!” cries Lillamere, springing to the center of the group.  He _superior teleports_ them after the fiend.

”You said you were fighting to the death!” cries Lillamere.  “You fled!”

The group has appeared in the midst of a large graveyard.  The pit fiend gapes at them, badly wounded from his fight with Alcar.  Speaking of Alcar, he demands, “Bow to the Light while you still have the chance!”  Then he casts a _destruction_ on the fiend, which wounds him, but does not slay him outright.

The rest of the party is now more than willing to engage the devil.  As far as they are concerned, he broke the deal by fleeing.  Lillamere _shape changes_ into a blue pit fiend and grins at the real deal before him.  Alcar invokes another _holy aura,_ but the pit fiend chooses other targets.  It fires a _meteor swarm_, dividing it between Chakar and Wankerman.  Both of them are badly wounded.  Chakar cries out for Little Alex.*

With a groan of pain, Wankerman attacks with his spear, landing several telling blows that sink deep into the fiend!

Lillamere the blue pit fiend speaks in a deep, raspy voice.  “You should have given up while you had the chance!”  He casts a _puncture,_ and the party’s foe cries in pain as he blasts one of its legs off!  It collapses, dead, to the ground.  

After a moment, Alcar comments, “Punk ass.”

***

_*8 p.m.*_

Little Alex, of course, came through for them again when they summoned him with a _sending._  As always, he was well compensated for his time.  It was obvious that all his friends knew who the party was, and that he had gained much prestige for his association with them.  He guided our heroes to a reasonable place to stay.

In the tavern downstairs that night, our heroes meet an interesting fellow named Tristan.  He claims to be a star traveler, with a ship that sails the upper reaches of Cydra, among the stars.  He declares that somewhere there is a place called the Other Land, an area magically warded to allow creatures in but not out, a place that is reputedly full of extremely powerful entities- and extremely powerful entities only.  But once one goes in, there is no escape.

Our heroes find his tale interesting, but a little confusing, and he claims not to know the why of it; nor does he admit knowledge of who built the zone or how it is maintained.

It’s an interesting tale, but not one of any practical interest at the moment.  After all, tomorrow it’s time to deal with that sarcophagus at last.

_*Next Time:*_ From the sarcophagus, to the Hall of Black Silk!

*The tout the party has used on several occasions in Sigil.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Let it said that Alcar, for all the trouble he manages to get himself into, has never, ever backed down from a fight.  Lester admires him a ton because he is the only one that Lester knows he can count on (100%) to throw down if someone is a punk!  Others will probably do the same, but they have to talk about it amongst themselves, check their mental notes, maybe do some divinations, stop by the bar for more planning, rest on it, and then make up their minds to very cautiously take on the baddy (including Orbius, L's cohort, whom Lester admires for his patience, though its not always appreciated).

Lester did think that Alcar was once kind of a dummy, always rushing in and going off alone to get himself killed, but Alcar seems a bit more careful since coming back from Bile Mountain.  Alcar can be restrained now, but only if there is truly good cause to do so.  He's a great example of what an Angel should be.  (All the other ones we've met were equally haughty, but didn't kick as much but as Alcar.)

-AoA


----------



## hippiejedi2

Between bringing the succubus to the light and dueling the pit fiend one-on-one, it has been Alcar's time to shine.


----------



## Greybar

The pit fiend thing is cool - showing the other side of their notoriety about killing Asmodeus.  Lots of people will want to give them room, but many people (perhaps particularly mortals who can be true-res'd) will now see them as a challenge to test themselves against.

Kinda like being a dragon.  Everyone knows they should be scared about facing down a dragon, yet there are adventurers just lining up to take their shot.


----------



## the Jester

*Showdown with Seclaidra*

_*8/6/371 O.L.G., 8:30 a.m., a field in Goldstone, Dorhaus*_

Emperor Prayzose of Forinthia, High Priest of the Light, cannot have his greatest desire, which almost any other man alive can.  All his wants is a little time alone with his wife.  But they both have many enemies, some of them the same; and even a moment without the support that the Eagles can provide them could be fatal.

So it is that the best Prayzose and the Tiger Empress Reshra can do is get a little discrete distance while they hungrily kiss and hold one another for a moment. 

“Why have you come?” she asks him briskly, taking his hands.  “I know how many things you have to do.”

He nods, kissing her forehead.  “I want your advice on something.”  He explains to her his idea.  “He will come to you seeking a peaceful resolution to the situation here.  He may be able to help you convince Malford to back off.”

“If you do this thing, you will provide him with tremendous influence,” she says.  “He may not be entirely friendly to you- or to me.  Are you prepared to remove him if necessary?”

“It is not a political position,” Prayzose insists.

Reshra laughs.  “You know better than that!”

“He is still the best man for the job.  He does not wish to be my enemy, and even if he did, he would _still_ be the best man for the job.”

The  Tiger Empress nods, suddenly more serious.  “You have my support.”

Emperor Prayzose smiles and kisses her full upon the lips.  Through the permanent telepathic link they share, he sighs his thanks.

***

_*The 109th layer of the Abyss*_

The sarcophagus remains where it was when our heroes left it.  The ceaseless sound of the undead god hammering at the inside of his prison with his fists is unnerving, even though the trapped god doesn’t seem to be making any progress.

Cautiously, they take a rubbing of the time-worn symbols on the sarcophagus’ exterior.  Then Horbin opens a _gate_ to the Tarterian Depths of Carceri and the strongest of our heroes shoulder it through, being careful not to go through the _gate_ themselves.  They all breathe sighs of relief after the _gate_ closes, sealing off the pounding sound of the undead god’s hammering fists within its eerie tomb.

The unnatural lightning flashes above again, and our heroes begin casting all their pre-battle spells.  They know what comes next- the assault on Seclaidra in her Hall of Black Silk.  After a few minutes of casting, manifesting and activating, our heroes clump together and _superior teleport_ to Seclaidra. 

But in the instant of transit, something goes wrong.  

Lillamere groans instantly as he recognizes the strange, sickening sensation of some kind of teleporter redirect.  The party appears at the end of a hallway draped with thick black curtains.  A thick fog covers the ground to a height of about one foot.  

Gibbering demonic sounds come from ahead.  A disgusting fly-like demon starts buzzing forward to the attack.  Alcar rushes forward-

Without warning, one of the curtains detaches from the ceiling and envelopes the Angel of Food.  He gives out a muffled cry; it has got him good!

Meanwhile, more demons _teleport_ in around them; apparently it suits them just find for the _trap teleporter_ effect to send them into our heroes’ midst.  Pandemonium breaks out as yet more demons come rushing through the curtained hall.  Visibility is extremely limited, and the curtains muffle sound, too.  Not to mention the fact that one of them is trying to smother Alcar.  

Alcar can’t see and can’t breathe.  He certainly can’t cast spells, but he _can_ use his angelic abilities, healing himself of some of the damage he’s just taken.  He struggles desperately- but it rapidly becomes clear that, despite his immense strength, the curtain has him pretty well trapped.  Lillamere, meanwhile, has _shape changed_ into a red dragon and breathes a gout of white-hot flames over the curtain (knowing that Alcar is protected from fire at present).  Inoke, too, leaps forward and begins smashing the deadly curtains.  

But more demons are rushing forward down the hall.  It is clear that Seclaidra has not invited them here to chat.  

The battle rages hot, and as Gerontius moves forward another of the curtains drops down, wrapping itself around him and trying to put the squeeze on him, just as the first has put the squeeze on Alcar!  Speaking of which, with a final convulsive squeeze, the black curtain around the Angel of Food releases him, leaving him for dead, and envelopes Inoke.*  The warmind gives a yell of surprise as the thing struggles to overcome him, but while he is huge, he is too hard to get a solid hold on.

Meanwhile, the demons are tearing into the others, who respond in kind.  Chakar, Lillamere (in pit fiend form) and Horbin melee with their fiendish foes, and in moments they are overcome.  A few vrock spores burrow into our heroes, and Wankerman is put momentarily to sleep by the droning wings of the fly-demons (called chasme).  Lillamere shakes him awake after Chakar finishes the baron’s immediate adversary with an amazing display of martial arts.

Baron Lillamere turns to the black curtains.  As Inoke hammers the first one hard, he comments, “It’s probably time to finish off that piece of crap,” he rumbles in his pit fiend voice, and he blows it to pieces with a maximized _seeker missiles._  Horbin steps into the center of the group to cast _mass heal._  The only visible foe that remains is the second curtain, which is struggling with Inoke, Gerontius (struggling with it from within) and Wankerman.  With all our heroes focusing on it, it cannot last long; but it lasts far longer than most creatures, as our heroes pummel, cut and blast it to bits.  The black curtains are _tough._  The party is too late to save Gerontius, however; the curtain has crushed the life from him completely by the time they bring it down.  The party scrapes up his body as best they can, and then our heroes proceed forward, flying above the mist that cloaks the ground.

Baron Lillamere calls out ahead of the group, “Hello!  We’re here to talk to your mistress, Seclaidra!”

After a beat, a response comes.  “Come with no weapons out,” it demands.

Inoke shakes his head.  _These are demons,_ he sends across the _telepathic bond.  We can’t trust them.  They might betray us at any moment.  And I won’t be a party to any deal with her._  He manifests _schism._

Lillamere replies, _We’ll work it out, don’t worry.  We still might have to kill her._

Inoke frowns.  _If we’re going to attack, let’s do it.   If we’re here to negotiate, I think I should leave._

_I can make a _gate_ to Var for you,_ Horbin the MFKG Holy sends.  _Just give us a minute to see if we can come to an agreement, or if we need to fight._

_I will not be a party to any agreement,_ Inoke insists.

Our heroes are moving forward nonetheless.  As our heroes pass the final curtain, they find the hall opens into a room crammed full of demons.  Patrolling the chamber are four mariliths, twenty chasme and ten vrocks.  

A nervous-looking succubus looks bravely at them.  “Welcome, slayers of Asmodeus,” she says gravely.  “What is it you have to say to our mistress?  She is under the impression that you are not interested in compromise.”

“We’re not here to compromise,” Horbin retorts.  “There are certain things she must do, or she will face destruction.”

The succubus nods.  “Yet you have already parlayed with her and could not come to mutually agreeable terms.”

The negotiations resume- for clearly that is what is happening already, by virtue of the fact that the demons and our heroes are not yet doing battle with each other.  Soon enough Seclaidra, convinced both that the party is sincere in their desire to avoid unnecessary bloodshed and that they are more than willing and probably able to shed her blood if they really set their minds on it, graces them with her presence directly.  The terms are debated, and Inoke repeats aloud that he will make no agreement. 

”Then why should I be bound by any agreement?” Seclaidra demands.  “I think you come here with impure motives- you seek to make a bargain that you have no intention of keeping.”

“Not true,” Horbin responds.  “We will keep it- just not Inoke.”

“That hardly counts,” she retorts dryly.  “He is the one who struck down Asmodeus, you know.”

“Listen, Inoke won’t do anything rash, I don’t think- he’s not going to come hunt you down or anything.”

“But he _could._”

Horbin sighs.  “Yes,” he admits, “but as long as you don’t break the spirit of the agreement, we will help keep him from acting against you.”

“I don’t have any intentions against you,” Inoke says honestly, “but I won’t bargain with a demon.  Besides, what’s to stop you from breaking the deal as soon as it is inconvenient for you?”

Seclaidra smiles.  “You killed Asmodeus,” she breathes.  “I have lived for a long time, and I have no desire to see the end of my existence come.  I have no doubt that you could destroy me.”  _Or little doubt,_ she thinks to herself.  

_She’s afraid of us,_ Chakar sends over the telepathic link.

The negotiations resume again, with terms being discussed.  Inoke fidgets for a few minutes, then interrupts.  “Let me out of here, Horbin, please,” he requests.  Horbin draws away for a moment and _gates_ Inoke to Var.  

Then the party and Seclaidra continue their discussion.

Finally, they come to an agreement: a 500-year non-aggression pact.  In essence, neither will trespass close to the other for a long time.  Seclaidra will not personally manifest on Cydra for 500 years; she will give up her direct political machinations on Dorhaus; and she will make no mental contact with anyone on Dorhaus for the prescribed period.

For their part, our heroes pledge not to just kill her on the spot, and to stay off her layer of the Abyss.  It seems like a good idea; on the surface it appears to be a good trade for them.  All they are doing is leaving her alive.  Horbin feels that the terms of his _quest_ have been satisfied. 

***

_*8/7/371 O.L.G., the Halls of healing*_

“Sir, this came for you.”

The page is a young lad that Horbin doesn’t recognize.  The letter is bound in ribbon and sealed with the signet of the High Priest of the Light, Prayzose.  Horbin smiles at the page and sends him on his way, tapping the letter against his left hand a few times before breaking the seal and reading it.

By the time he’s halfway done he is gaping.  

After he has finished, he issues a _sending_ to Prayzose.

_This is Horbin.  Got your letter.  Honored by your offer, but I am curious why me?_

The response is swift: _May I contact you telepathically?_

And a few moments later, the two are talking mind-to-mind.  Horbin has no idea where Prayzose is; it does not matter.  The mental presence of the High Priest is reassuring, warm, strong and good-hearted.  Horbin sighs that he must count this man as one of his adversaries, at least some of the time.

_Good day, Horbin,_ Prayzose says telepathically. 

_Uh... hi._  Horbin is at a loss for a moment.  Then he blurts out, _Why me?_

_You’re the best man for the job,_ Prayzose replies simply.  _We may not see eye to eye on all things, Horbin, but I got to know you a little at the casters’ conference.  You’re a genuinely good man, with the best interests of all of Dorhaus at heart, and that’s what Dorhaus needs right now._

_You are offering me a great honor,_ Horbin thinks to Prayzose, _and I am not sure what you want in return._

_I want you to do the best job you can, Horbin.  I want you for the job because you are the right person for the job.  I have no ulterior motive.  Bear in mind, even if you accept, that only means I recommend you to the cardinals. You might have a fight ahead of you there; some of your views are none too popular._

Horbin concedes, _I have always been liberal for a Dexterite._  He sighs.  _I will think your offer over._

_Think of all the good you could do.  The diocesan chair has been empty for quite some time- it needs to be filled.  Take some time to think it over, but I want you for the job, Horbin.  I want you to be the new Bishop of West Dorhaus._

_*Next Time:*_  Horbin gives his answer to Prayzose, Gerontius is _true rezzed_ and the party begins moving towards the Bastion of Law!


*Alcar burned a Wyrd to stay alive.  Think of a Wyrd as being a measure of how much fate likes you.  They are hard to come by and are acquired in game.  Think of them as being sort of like action points (or fate points) but requiring a lot of sacrifices to get ‘em.  They also reduce the severity of crits and fumbles in my system.


----------



## Greybar

Very cool.  As action oriented as your players are, I have great respect for their ability to do things by words as well as weapons.

In your campaign, is the general rule still that outsiders cannot be raised/ressurected, and thus the need for Alcar to use the Wyrd?


----------



## the Jester

Greybar said:
			
		

> In your campaign, is the general rule still that outsiders cannot be raised/ressurected, and thus the need for Alcar to use the Wyrd?




No- but my players generally prefer to not-die, despite the 'speed bump' nature of death in high-level dnd.  This is an attitude I prefer to encourage; very often the fear of death gets lost at high levels.

Edit: to clarify, I run raising outsiders by the book- it takes a _true resurrection_ or _wish_ or something equivalent.


----------



## cold1s

*Off Camera - Horben and 10 Buck Tom*

	Horben the MFKG Holy sits with his best friend and adviser, 10 Buck Tom, a relative of the Gnomish family that rescued him and raised him briefly (Until he became too large to fit in the tunnels at around 6 or 7 yo). The sitting room of Horben's modest home softly glows yellow with lamp light. Tom and rest of his adventuring companions are aware of the offer from Praisose.   When he can, Horben discusses important decisions with the bard.  

	 “The big P said I'm the best man for the job, my biggest fear is that he's right, in which case I must vie for the post.” Setting down a stein of  Dwarven Ale, Horben thinks aloud: “None of our companions are too keen on the idea, even Alcar seems dubious of the offer.”  He muses, “Still, I think Inoke, Sybele are the most sympathetic to Galador. Lillamere will be fine so long as I do not threaten the barony or the Kingdom of Var.”
	“Do you think the Tigress put him up to it, you know, to shake things up a bit.” Asks Tom,  popping a Gnomish root-snack. 
	“I doubt it.  If anything, he would have had a hard sell to convince her.  That she bought in on it is a good sign.  Convincing other will be tougher.  The acceptance process is likely to rival the nastiest torture chamber of Strogass.”
	“I suppose, but if you accept and are accepted, this land will be shaken up.  What about Malford.”
	There is a pause, while a servant clears dishes, and hands a packet of daily reports from the Hall of Healing to Horben.	When she leaves Tom and Horben each have fresh mugs, and a new bowl of “rootlets”, Tom's favorite evening snack.
	“Malford has been incognito for sometime now.”  replies Horben, wiping a foam mustache from his upper lip. “That in itself is a concern of mine. Malford has been a great force stabilizing this region of Dorhaus, I don't know if his heirs are ready for the throne.  I hope we have no cause to test them anytime soon.  In any event, my political loyalties are unchanged.  However, even if I convince the king and his royalty of that fact, tension between the Crown and the Church are inevitable.  Not to mention the implicit loyalty I must honor to the Tigress.” The Priest sighs. “Both are typical rulers, strong-headed, and blind to their own faults.  A bad combination in neighbors.” 
	“If you win this post, you could see to your dream of uniting Dorhaus.” Suggests Tom. 
	“That is a dangerous and, I'm afraid, well thought point.” Replies Horben.  “Too much unity will shatter the continent.  A gesture of peace to one side would be treasonable to another. I have no wish to ignite more war. ”  
	A thoughtful pause.  
	“And I must beware of my own ambition.”
	“The worst part is, I one respect I am unchanged.  I have two passions: healing and adventure.  Being bishop would interrupt both.”  
	Tom has no reply.  While his good friend is at least wise enough to admit his foibles when faced with them, he is also very stubborn.  Tom has no doubts of Horbens abilities as a leader.  He chuckles to himself.  
	“Stones?” He asks Horben.  “I still have a score to settle with you, about two games worth.”
	“Ha! I have no qualms teaching you lesson, bard”
	The servants are dismissed after another round of ale, when the yellow lamp light finally extinguishes late in the evening, it is Horben who as learned a thing or two about stones.  Tom leaves humming a self-satisfied tune.


----------



## omrob

*Wow*

That was so cool!

Firs the bishopric then the papcy!

heh


----------



## the Jester

Rumor has it that Horbin's player is going to post the contents of the note from Prayzose. 

[/hint]


----------



## SpadeHammerfist

*What's going on?*

Do you know, I've been reading this Story Hour for months, and never wanted to interrupt with a comment, but...

...what's happening?


----------



## the Jester

SpadeHammerfist said:
			
		

> Do you know, I've been reading this Story Hour for months, and never wanted to interrupt with a comment, but...
> 
> ...what's happening?




Interrupt at will, it encourages us. 

As to 'what's happening:'

*Horbin has received a letter from Prayzose, Emperor of Forinthia, offering him the position of Bishop of Western Dorhaus.  Horbin has long dreamed of a united continent of Dorhaus (or at least one without a war perpetually being waged between east and west), and hopes to use the position (assuming he accepts and is confirmed in it) to promote peace.

*The party has just finished negotiating with the demon princess Seclaidra.  They came to terms with her after she proved a little too wily to easily defeat, but the terms appear fairly in their favor.

*The party is now setting up to assault the Bastion of Law, which they have visited several times before.

*After that, they plan to return to Bile Mountain in order to slay the Bile Lords and their Bile King once and for all.

As to why I haven't updated this thread in a while, it's because I'm less than one update behind here.    In fact, I have about 75% of the last game we played for this party already in the SH!  If you are curious as to where I am compared to the overall campaign, you can look to the bottom of this post, where I have everything nicely color-coded.  At this point, I have one halfling game left to write up before that group is caught up, a smidgen of a game for this thread, and the first session of a new, low/lost-magic campaign set 28,000 years in the future, after much that was discovered has been lost.   That story hour will be startin' before too long...


----------



## the Jester

*Law Interlude*

Cluma stares into the storm wall.  His hands clutch a mighty rod, one of the most powerful artifacts of Law ever constructed.  Unconsciously he runs his fingers over its component pieces, screwed together to form rod of pieces of gradually increasing diameter.  _The Rod of Seven Parts_ is truly mighty.  

Outside, in the storm wall, lightning flashes and thunder crashes.  Wind and rain pound in a ring around Cluma’s castle.  

_There must be seven of us,_ he thinks.  _Seven Arrows of Law, as there are seven pieces to the Rod.  With Asmodeus defeated, we are six._

The lightning flashes again, and as it does Lester’s face appears in Cluma’s mind’s eye.  Lester, agent of Chaos, champion of anarchy.  Lester and all of his accursed friends must fall.

Yet...

Cluma sighs as he thinks of his recent conversation with Marius.  _”We need to replace Asmodeus, but perhaps the usual candidates should be put aside in favor of someone more... unusual.”_  Marius’ bold proposal seems unnecessarily risky, but perhaps it is a worthwhile risk.  As Marius pointed out earlier, such a stroke could lead to the downfall of several major enemies at once- including Lester’s band.

Cluma strokes the rod again, his hands moving of their own accord.  He broods for a long time.  Then, slowly, a vibration begins in the rod, and an _awareness_ begins to steal over Cluma.

_Danger,_ he realizes, clutching the _Rod of Seven Parts_ close in suddenly sweaty hands.  _Great danger.  While we are not seven we are vulnerable.  Until we have replaced Asmodeus on our council..._  He gasps aloud as the implications hit him.  

Swiftly, he uses the rod to issue a _sending._  Then he shouts for a squire and begins suiting up in his armor.  

Prayzose’s mental contact is a relief.  _I’ve alerted the others.  At least one of us should guard it at all times, until we have resolved the replacement of Asmodeus._

The Judge of Worlds’ thoughts are clear over the link.  _Some might say that it was a mistake to allow the Arrows to pass beyond the walls of the Bastion._

_Some might, but we must be proactive,_ retorts Marius. _Na’Rat awakes._

_His progeny walk Cydra,_ Dekrasode reminds them.  _We may not simply remain in the Bastion, defending ourselves.  We must destroy our enemies._

_Your ambition rules you,_ the Judge of Worlds pronounces telepathically.

_Regardless of my motivation, my conclusions are correct.  We have duties that require we not simply wall ourselves in the Bastion of Law._ 

_Dekrasode is correct,_ Prayzose affirms.  _Yet we must not leave the Bastion unguarded in this vulnerable time.  We must leave one or two of our number within the Bastion at all times._

_That is... inconvenient,_ Marius grumbles over the link, _but no doubt you are correct._

_I am almost on my way there now,_ Cluma thinks to the others.  _I will take the first watch.  And even without us, the Bastion is hardly unguarded._

_They killed _Asmodeus, Prayzose reminds him. 

Cluma strokes the _Rod of Seven Parts_ and replies, _I will be at my strongest within the Bastion, as will the rod.  And we must prepare for them.  We know them fairly well._

_If they come at all.  Someone else entirely- or no one at all- might come._  Prayzose’s reminder is gentle, but clear.  _Let us all keep in mind that this will slow our plans.  This requires that we focus resources in yet another area, at least until Asmodeus is replaced.  Lucifer’s refusal to take his place until his own affairs are settled is... problematic._

_He is gambling on Chaos,_ Dekrasode declares.

_Regardless, we should all think over candidates for his replacement._

Cluma smiles.  

Marius tells the others, _I have a proposal._

They are thunderstruck by the boldness of it.  Surely Marius approached a few others first, just as he approached Cluma; but the thrill that passes through all of them as he speaks the name telepathically is completely genuine.

_That is a very interesting idea,_ Prayzose admits.

_A page out of your own book,_ Marius replies.

_And by right of trial by combat..._ Dekrasode lets the thought trail off.

Cluma thinks, _I must go to the Bastion, now.  It is vulnerable.  I am in agreement with Marius.  If the rest of you are, you should discuss it with him._

He activates the _Rod of Seven Parts_ and vanishes in a collapsing rainbow.

_*Next Time:*_  I know I said this last time, but Horbin gives his answer to Prayzose, Gerontius is _true rezzed_ and the party begins moving towards the Bastion of Law!


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

If it's who I'm thinking of, you surely are racking up those RBDM points, Jester ^_^  Btw, I recognize the others, but have we heard of Dekrasode before?  Also, I noticed only 5 voices in the telepathic conversation, does the Rod of 7 parts count as one of the Arrows of Law itself or is someone missing?


----------



## the Jester

Sollir Furryfoot said:
			
		

> If it's who I'm thinking of, you surely are racking up those RBDM points, Jester ^_^  Btw, I recognize the others, but have we heard of Dekrasode before?  Also, I noticed only 5 voices in the telepathic conversation, does the Rod of 7 parts count as one of the Arrows of Law itself or is someone missing?




One of the Arrows was quiet for the conversation.   That would be, er, Alyth the World Walker, who hasn't had much "screen time" in the campaign yet.  

As for Dekrasode- oh, yes, we've seen him before.  I believe he has been mentioned in passing in this thread.  He's also a major part of one pc's backstory in the Early Years thread, though nobody has put it together yet in that thread. 

Hehehe... hope you've guessed correctly!


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

Haha, you are racking up the RBDM indeed, went back to the appointment of the arrows post:



> “Umoadess, by whatever name you choose, Lord of Many Worlds, do you accept your appointment as the Fourth Arrow of Law?"




I was about to say, I didn't recall Asmodeus (Umoadess, brilliant foreshadowing!) being chosen as one of the arrows of law.

Any chance you'll post any of their builds in the RG?  I'm very curious 

Edit-Are you referring to Raja as the PC whose backstory involves Dekrasode?  Or someone else perhaps, hmmm.


----------



## the Jester

Sollir Furryfoot said:
			
		

> Edit-Are you referring to Raja as the PC whose backstory involves Dekrasode?




Got it in one!


----------



## Angel of Adventure

E-Crector?


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> E-Crector?




Now you _know_ I ain't telling!


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

[delurks]
Yay Storyhour!
[lurker stealth mode activated]


----------



## hippiejedi2

Sybele was there when the Arrows were appointed. Shouldn't she have noticed "Umoadess" and some of the others?


----------



## the Jester

hippiejedi2 said:
			
		

> Sybele was there when the Arrows were appointed. Shouldn't she have noticed "Umoadess" and some of the others?




Oh, she saw him- but she didn't know who he was.  He was in disguise, you know.


----------



## hippiejedi2

HaHa figures, she would not remember his name anyway. Seems a little deviously misleading for the most powerful proponents of Law to hide their identities. Where is the honor? I guess there is no stinking honor in war though.


----------



## Sandain

*knock knock* Anybody home?

Please play this game some more, its my favourite Story Hour.


----------



## Brain

Sandain said:
			
		

> *knock knock* Anybody home?
> 
> Please play this game some more, its my favourite Story Hour.



This game has been on hiatus for a while, we've been playing the "Year 271 low-magic campaign experiment" lately.

I'm sure we'll get back to this one eventually though.  Hang in there!


----------



## Sandain

Whee thanks Brain.   I'd read this new story hour, but I really dislike low magic settings.


----------



## the Jester

Sandain said:
			
		

> *knock knock* Anybody home?
> 
> Please play this game some more, its my favourite Story Hour.




Well, I will say this- after the 'first arc' of the Year 271 Campaign I'm planning on running at least one major epic adventure.

Oh, yeah.  _Major._


----------



## Sandain

Any chance of a spoiler in the other thread please?


----------



## Look_a_Unicorn

I don't think I've ever seen this done for this Story Hour before- mostly because updates are so frequent (when you're playing!) but.... BUMP!


----------



## the Jester

Okay, here's another interlude post since we haven't played this group again yet. 

_*Interlude the Second

8/7/371 O.L.G., the Elemental Plane of Fire*_

While Horbin contemplates Prayzose’s proposal, we will take just a moment to look elsewhere.  For instance, here we have a realm of pure flame.  The entire world is a furnace.  The ground is nothing but flaming coal.  The clouds are infernos.  

Streaking overhead, a significant force of efreeti patrols the burning sky.  Below them, on fields burning an incandescent scarlet, the elementals and mephits dance a for victory.  Rank after rank of enslaved elemental throws themselves against the walls of the glowing city before them.

The City of Brass is quite a prize, if it can be gained.  Pasha Amhari Ifroobil sighs.  It seems as though it is holding out forever.  

_Well, there’s no helping it,_ he thinks testily.  _Without Imix’s killers to prove myself against, this is the only way.  Foolish mortals- they always seem to get themselves killed just before they can get involved in the really important stuff._ 

The Pasha turns back to his tent and enters it.  It is full of the perfume of exotic burning forests.  The most beautiful of the efreet women languidly display themselves for him.  He is not in the mood for them.  With a snarl he dismisses them, and then he summons his new minister.

“Yes, my lord?” the shadowed figure says softly once he arrives.

“Ah, my mysterious friend, I am glad you come to my call so quickly.”

“Of course I do, my lord.  Are you not the lord of all efreeti?  Are you not master of the Elemental Plane of Fire?”

“You mock me,” Amhari Ifroobil states, but without conviction.

“Never, my lord.”  The other’s voice is a purr.  “Have I not done you nothing but good?  Indeed, I have offered to do you more good than you will allow.”

“I am not certain that I _want_ your weapons,” the Pasha muses.  “Your price is high.”

“Is it, my lord?  Or is it merely extremely advantageous to us both?”  The figure smiles.  “Think on it.  I offer you weapons that will aid you in overcoming your foes forever.  I offer to aid you in displacing the pretenders that have prevented you from seating yourself on the obsidian throne of Archomental Evil.  I can help you, and all I want is _one... small... thing._  Just one.  Just a little tiny portal.”

“Why?” demands Amhari.  “Your goals are transparent but your motives remain dark.”

“As it should be,” breathes the advisor. 

“And how did you know that El-Remmen would try to assassinate me?”  The Pasha glares suspicously at the tall figure, who merely bows.

“I hear many things,” he replies opaquely.

“Pah!” the efreet lord snorts.  “Begone!  You offer me nothing!”

“As you wish, my lord.  Only...”  The figure pauses.

“Only _what?_”

“Twice now have I made my offer to you, my lord.  There will be only one more time that I shall make my offer... to you.”  

With another bow, the figure departs, leaving Pasha Amhari unsettled.  “And what does that mean, eh?” he snarls to himself.  Then he curses long and loud.  “Only one more time ‘to me!’  He means to turn on me if I don’t accept!  How dare he!” he roars.  For a moment he considers dispatching hunters against him, but he knows what they will find: nothing.  This new ‘advisor’ of his knows how to cover his tracks.

Amhari paces for a time, then storms out to the Oasis of Burning Liquor.  There he spends almost two hours drinking the fiery liquid and blasting anyone that comes to near to his solitude.  When at last he staggers back to his tent, he finds one of his _trusted_ advisors there.

“My lord, I have news,” declares Salel al-Quar without preamble.  “Imix’ killers are alive.”

“What!” the Pasha roars. 

Salel nods sagely.  “I heard word of them in Sigil.  They must be _mind blanked_ at most, if not all, times.  They...”  He licks his lips.  “My lord, they are the ones that slew Asmodeus.”  _They may be beyond you,_ is what goes unsaid, but the meaning is plain behind his eyes.

Pasha Amhari Ifroobil is thunderstruck.  “The slayers of Asmodeus!”  He swears mightily, then guffaws.  “Well, it seems that my new friend is useful after all.”  He bellows out a summons, and five impatient minutes later the advisor has returned to him.

“I accept your offer, Glaisig,” Ifroobil snarls. 

***

_*6 p.m., far out at sea*_

The sea boils and churns, as it has for quite some time.  The boat swings to, turning the tiller against the slow whirlpool that threatens to drag her in.  The officers are formidable- men of many years of experience, travelers of thousands of miles, spellslingers and slayers of many monsters.  Their boat- whose name, translated from their tongue, is the _Swift Rapier_- is highly enchanted and more than a match for most natural phenomena.  

This is different.  

The crew are the followers of the officers, salty veterans of many years at sea.  They have hacked through the tentacles of krakens, slain dragon turtles, fought off the weird ships of sahuagin and even traversed the black waters of the Underdark.  

But nothing they have faced before has prepared them for this.

Almost as if it has been waiting for someone to approach, something starts to rise from within the waters.  It seems to grow from the size of a man to something that almost fills the entire sky.  Six massively muscled arms... a huge, raw, seeping crater in its chest... a collection of weapons and spiked bucklers are held in its massive hands.  If it weren’t for the six arms and the immense size- and the terrible wounds that criss-cross its body- the thing might almost be human.

The heroes on the _Swift Rapier_ cry out in fear as the thing looms over them.  It laughs.  They feel an aura of palpable power smother them, choking them with fear and awe.  

_What is it?_

As if in answer, the monstrous being’s thoughts suddenly blast into the minds of the crew of the ship.  *“YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME!!”*

On the _Rapier,_ there are screams of fear.

[/B]“YOU WILL ALL DIE!!  SERVE ME WELL AND YOU WILL SURVIVE TO THE END OF THINGS!  MY MASTER WILL COME ONCE I HAVE OPENED THE PASSAGE, AND OPEN IT I SHALL!  AND THEN ALL THINGS WILL DIE!”[/B]

There is a crash of bloody light, and a massive portal opens in the sky.  

*“BEHOLD MY MOUNT!”*

The screams of terror grow as a horrifying creature of black blood and blue-white fire, shaped like some nightmare of a horse, blasts through the dimensions and into the skies of Cydra.  Its screaming neigh explodes all the glass on board the ship.

The great six-armed figure laughs with delight as the fell beast that he has chosen to ride breathes a great billowing cloud of disease and death out.  Men are throwing themselves into the sea from sheer terror, only to be swept into the boiling maelstrom.  

On board the ship, the officers gather quickly.  Only the fact that they consumed a _heroes’ feast_ for breakfast keeps them from utterly breaking down and weeping. 

“We have to get out of here!” one of them, the hero Borilus, shouts.  “I’ll go for the tiller!”  He sprints across the deck to grab the tiller, but even with all his strength he cannot turn it.  He gives a cry of despair.  

*“FOOLISH LITTLE MAN!  YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME!  I COULD LET YOU FLEE AND YOU COULD DO ME NO HARM!  BUT KNOW THIS...”*

The figure plucks Borilus from the deck with one immense hand.  The man shouts in fear as the hand dangles his high above the sea..  

*“YOUR FRIENDS WILL SERVE ME UNTIL THE END OF TIME!  AND THAT COMES SOONER THAN YOU KNOW!!”*

Borilus screams and screams as the fear bears down on him like the mouth of a shark.  Then he is being thrown, and he loses consciousness.  The last words he hears echo through the tormented nightmares of drowning he falls into.

*“I WILL TEAR A HOLE IN THIS UNIVERSE!!”*

_*End Interlude*_


----------



## hippiejedi2

Is it just me or is Glaisig and his master plotting to overthrow/destroy life on the Prime Material Plane. I could have sworn that there was an agreement that they would leave the PMP left alone, at least for a generation. As if taking over Hell is not enough of a task. Anyone up for re-storming Hell? I have those Erath guys phone number in my pocket, no wait I just did my laundry. Damn.


----------



## the Jester

hippiejedi2 said:
			
		

> Is it just me or is Glaisig and his master plotting to overthrow/destroy life on the Prime Material Plane. I could have sworn that there was an agreement that they would leave the PMP left alone, at least for a generation. As if taking over Hell is not enough of a task. Anyone up for re-storming Hell? I have those Erath guys phone number in my pocket, no wait I just did my laundry. Damn.




Hehehehe... no, no, they wouldn't break an agreement...

Bear in mind that Glaisig was interacting with the efreet Pasha on the Plane of Fire, nowhere mentioning Cydra at all.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

And if ... by accident Hunting Party of the Efreeti would burn the Cydra down, he certainly would have clean hands.


----------



## the Jester

Rikandur Azebol said:
			
		

> And if ... by accident Hunting Party of the Efreeti would burn the Cydra down, he certainly would have clean hands.




Well, he certainly didn't tell Amhari Ifroobil to go hunt those Asmodeus-killers.[/innocent look]


----------



## Angel of Adventure

" It seems to grow from the size of a man to something that almost fills the entire sky. Six massively muscled arms... a huge, raw, seeping crater in its chest... a collection of weapons and spiked bucklers are held in its massive hands. If it weren’t for the six arms and the immense size- and the terrible wounds that criss-cross its body- the thing might almost be human. "

Well, I guess its about time everyone meets the final member of the Fulgin, Felenga, and (insert name here)'s 'Let's Bring the Universe Down!" club.  (Does his name start with an F, because it should!)


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Well, I guess its about time everyone meets the final member of the Fulgin, Felenga, and (insert name here)'s 'Let's Bring the Universe Down!" club.  (Does his name start with an F, because it should!)




I see _somebody_ remembers the picture. 

And no, it starts with an 'H'...


----------



## Angel of Adventure

As I might not be there in game to find out why the heck this guy is back to terrorize Cydra, I look forward to an explaination in the SH.  I'm sure it is very interesting, and goes well beyond, "Well, Felenga and Fulgin got to come back and whoop butt!  Why can't I?"


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> As I might not be there in game to find out why the heck this guy is back to terrorize Cydra, I look forward to an explaination in the SH.  I'm sure it is very interesting, and goes well beyond, "Well, Felenga and Fulgin got to come back and whoop butt!  Why can't I?"




Look back and you might find an allusion or two already in here.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

The new arrow of law????


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

This guy ? And what law have to seemingly random act of violence he performed ? And his overall ... shapelessness ?   
Lawguys are that desperate ?!


----------



## SpadeHammerfist

*bump!*

Why are we waiting, oh why are we waiaiaitiiiiiiing...


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Jester,

Great Update us, por favor!  More behind the scenes bad guy stuff.  Its a lot of fun.    

Later,

AoA


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Jester,
> 
> Great Update us, por favor!  More behind the scenes bad guy stuff.  Its a lot of fun.
> 
> Later,
> 
> AoA




Oh, okay... I'll post something in here sometime this week.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

(whines)  Jesteeeeeer!  You _said _ you'd update.


----------



## the Jester

Sorry, I've been working on the Cydra Wiki.  

I'll try to update today before I go to work, otherwise this weekend.


----------



## the Jester

*More Behind-the-Scenes*

“Father... please...”

“You have earned your status.”

“But to be _ridden..._ to be a _mount_...”

“You have failed me, more than once now.  And it was your own ego that did it.”  His great voice rumbles angrily.  “You _will_ serve my purpose, but if you need to be _humbled_ to do it properly then I will humble you!  Now fall down and make offerings to me, or I will destroy you!”

***

Lord Alyth gives Dekrasode the nod of an equal.  He knows the dragon thirsts to be first among the Arrows of Law, but they _are_ equals, and Lord Alyth is not intimidated by anything.  He has slain a half-god with his terrible sword _Judgment_.  Cooly- for he does not trust the dragon- Lord Alyth says, “You asked too see me?”

Dekrasode is in his customary human form- a swarthy man of middle years, with strong arms and a handsome face.  Without preamble, he demands, “How would you like to ride a dragon?”

Lord Alyth responds blandly.  “I have done so in the past.”

Dekrasode smiles.  “I would like to introduce you to one of my children.  He has a lot of potential, but he has failed me in the past due to his own ego.  I think it would do him well to serve under a human for a time.”  He raises his voice.  “Sautix!  Attend us!”

Slowly, from the shadows, a form stirs, then slithers forth.  Sautix is huge, and is clearly all dragon.*  Sautix is almost translucent, covered in indistinct midnight-blue or black scales.  His long, sinuous neck has short horns on it, and two rows of spines run down to its dark wings.  The thing seems to blend with the darkness around it, losing distinction in the darkness.  Its chest is a sapphire color so dark as to be almost black.

In spite of himself, Lord Alyth is impressed.  _He has managed to mate and beget offspring with a shadow dragon!  Impressive.  I wonder what other hidden depths you have yet to show, my ally?_

“I would be honored,” Lord Alyth admits.  He had intended to turn down whatever offer Dekrasode was going to make him, but... well.  A crossbreed of two of the most powerful dragon species?  That is nothing to scoff at!

Sautix glares at Lord Alyth, his eyes full of hate.

“You have my full permission to do whatever _training_ you think is required, my lord,” Dekrasode gloats.

***

Later, after demonstrating to Sautix the folly of attempting to fight or flee, Lord Alyth mulls over Marius’ proposed replacement for Asmodeus as the new Seventh Arrow of Law.  _Marius, too, is bold and wily.  My allies here are of the highest caliber.  His suggestion is crafty.  He takes a very interesting approach to winning the war as a whole- he thinks in terms of overall strategy, of the key goals and elements, of the most important enemies to neutralize._  His forehead furrows as he frets over the real problem.  “How to approach him,” he mutters to himself.  _A _sending_ might be too impersonal.  Perhaps Prayzose is best-suited to make the approach.  But for any of us to risk ourselves directly at the moment might be ill-advised- the more of us that are safe, the stronger we are at the Bastion.

Will he accept our offer?  It wouldn’t surprise me.  But... might he try to infiltrate us for the other side?_

Lord Alyth shakes his head, wondering at the powers of Chaos to deceive and the powers of Law to see the truth.  Surely, in the heart of the Bastion of Law, the foreces of order could penetrate any attempts at misdirection!

Still... the thought is troubling.

“Well, we will decide in the morning,” he murmurs to himself.

***

The Barony of Goldstone has been a point of contention for some time now.  Though God-King Malford the Magnificent has had troops stationed there, he knows all too well that his claim on the land is weak.  The Tiger Empress Reshra, on the other hand, is continuously moving troops to the outlying areas and gradually wearing away at his control, trimming the areas he has made his.  Moreover, she traces her descent to Rajah, one of Malford’s old friends and the rightful heir (in his day) to the throne of Imperial Wotan- which included Goldstone as one of its dependencies.  

_If I don’t stop her, she’ll take it all back,_ Malford thinks moodily.  

He broods over his mental map of Dorhaus, his continent.  It is bisected along its north-south axis by the Bendrock Mountains, and another range nearly bisects it east-west as well.  The southwest is Malford’s kingdom, the southeast Reshra’s.  Goldstone lies in a large valley on the eastern side, and is rich with precious metals, especially gold, and certain gems and precious stones.  Horbin has been making a lot of noise about making peace between Western Dorhaus and the so-called Tiger Lands.  Well, that would be fine; but Goldstone has been one of the main goals of Malford’s ambitions for centuries.  It’s all much more complicated now, though.  The Tiger Empress is Prayzose’s wife, and Prayzose is one of the only individuals on Cydra that Malford is not certain he could handle.  (Or at least, one of the only individuals on Cydra that isn’t an _ally...._)  A direct assault on Reshra would, no doubt, only bring the wrath of Prayzose to new heights.  Kill her?  He’ll just _true resurrect_ her.  Imprison her?  The forces of Chaos did that, mostly- Malford suspects- via the enchantress Estelias- but she got out somehow, and if anyone can liberate her it is Prayzose.  

Malford knows that even impersonating her won’t work; Prayzose can surely pierce any deception he can come up with.  No, it’s going to be most difficult to dislodge her.  

_It’s either kill all her forces or force negotiations when I’ve got the upper hand,_ the king thinks to himself.  _If only the fey would go against her- but they fear Prayzose too much, and she has cultivated a relationship with the Elf-King of Ketzia.  They won’t work against her, but at least they won’t work against me either.

At least, not in force._

He chews the problem over for a while, coming to no new conclusions.  He formulates many plans but is forced to discard them all.  Prayzose’s surpassing wisdom will probably guard against anything tricky, and he is too powerful for a straight fight to take out.  Plus, Malford doesn’t really _want_ to kill him.  They have been rivals for years, true; but they have also been allies, fighting together in Hell (for example) when the party went to destroy the devil Mezzoloch, who had served Fuligin in Var.  Best would be an understanding: Dorhaus for Malford and Moira.  But the Tiger Empress will not give up her claim easily, and the kind of wholesale slaughter it would take to drive her out would be... distasteful, at best.

Malford is a very busy man, with a fairly tight schedule.  His deliberations have taken only about three minutes.  He then rises as his schedule intrudes, and he must greet his next guest. 

***

The remodeling of Nessus, the Ninth Hell, continues.  There are many examples everywhere of what happens to those that oppose Lucifer’s rule.  There are also a great number of devils who have returned from their aeons-long banishment with their Master.  There are a few devils who served Lucifer as spies in Asmodeus’ service- but only a few, for Asmodeus was thorough in rooting them out back when he took over.  Many more have gone over to Lucifer.

Still, there are those that still fight, and other factions that seek to take over.  Of the Lords of Hell, only one has (so far) sworn alleigance to Lucifer- but that is Tiamat.  She is ancient and powerful, and angry after her century of imprisonment by Bel.

A sly smile.  _And Bel is not the only other newcomer that is vulnerable to overthrow by those that came before.  But none must remember the Infinite Hells._ 

Glaisig, the Hidden Minister, looks out from his Unseen Tower.  In the city below him, strange blue fires glow everywhere.  These, he knows, signal the destruction of many of the rebellious newer devils.  Silently he raises a toast to the forces that are burning their enemies with the _fires of Lucifer_, and takes a long drink from his snifter.  He smiles again, smacks his lips.  _Things are ahead of schedule._

The blue flames leap from one building to the next, consuming stone, wood, even metal.  Devils, too; this fire- whatever it is- is too much for them.  

Even the souls of the dead.

Glaisig’s eyes dance as the remodeling continues.

_*Next Time:*_  I know I said this _twice before_, but Horbin gives his answer to Prayzose, Gerontius is _true rezzed_ and the party begins moving towards the Bastion of Law!


*Long-time readers may recall Sautix from this encounter.


----------



## Knightfall

Good stuff, as usual. This has definitely taken over as my favorite story hour, which is saying a lot since I read both Piratecat and Sep's story hours.  

Later,

KF72


----------



## Cheiromancer

Too good a story to go so long without so much as a bump!

Maybe if we are good there will be an update?


----------



## omrob

We are about to begin playing this party again for a spell...so more updates as the party goes through the Bastion of Law craziness ...:gulp:...


----------



## the Jester

Since we’ll be picking up these guys again soon I thought I’d bring y’all completely up to date.  This will be a short update, but it’ll whet everyone’s appettites.  I estimate roughly a month until I run it again- the holidays may throw things for a bit of a loop, though.



_*8/7/371 O.L.G., 7 p.m., the castle in Var*_

Over dinner, Horbin breaks the news to the others.  “I’m going to be the Bishop of West Dorhaus,” he half-exults and half-whines.  

Chakar discovers Arion the Archmage for the first time this night.  Arion, a wizard of commendable power, is a long-time acquaintance of Lester and Malford, well-known for getting drunk and throwing around powerful magic.  He is also said to be something of a specialist in force magic.  Chakar, being a dwarf, is more than happy to entertain Arion with a drinking contest; and, being a monk of the highest order, he is more than equipped to win it.  Nonetheless, Arion puts up a respectable showing.  By the end of the night, Chakar has  agreed to fetch “the twenty best bottles” for Arion in return for the archmage’s cleaning of Chakar’s _bag of holding._

After dinner, Horbin _true resurrects_ Gerontius, and the halfling shudders back to life.  Then Ten Buck Tom performs a new song he has composed, “Who Will Stand When the Strong Have Fallen?”.  

Our heroes rest.

***

_8/8/371 O.L.G., noon, Horbin’s Halls of Healing_[/b]

“I want to do something about those orcs,” declares Gerontius.

“It’ll be a good warm-up before the Bastion of Law,” nods Lillamere.  “I’m for it.”

Inoke declares, “I’ll go to deal with the orcs.  You guys are crazy to talk about going to the Bastion, though.”

“The orcs will be a good start.”

“Which orcs?” asks Veil.

“On Valonia,” Gerontius explains, “oppressing my people.”

“Didn’t we take care of them before?” asks Horbin.

“Just a small group of them,” the halfling responds.

“Well, then,” says Lillamere, “I guess we know what’s next.”

_*Next Time:*_ I kill them all!  Er, that is, we resume playing this game!


----------



## the Jester

Just to update our status, the next game we play will be a warm-up game for this group, involving the orcs, and should be sometime within the next week.  You can expect an update a few days after that.


----------



## the Jester

Let me just say that I am _incredibly_ glad that I write my story hours up in Word before posting them these days... 

My plan: one post per day (in one or more of my SH threads) until the old posts are all back in place, and then more- presumably by that time, I'll have a few new ones written and be able to leapfrog forward...


----------



## the Jester

_*6 p.m., Var*_

“I am telling you, we must take care of zese orcs!” declares Gerontius.  He gestures expansively.  “Think about it.  If zey were attacking your folk, you would be all for it!”

“True,” agrees Baron Lillamere.  “But we also have to assault the Bastion of Law.”  He ponders as they walk through the streets of Var towards the Three Rubies, the tavern which they have enjoyed for some time, ever since being introduced to it by Lester.  It is typically crawling with adventurer groupies, and our heroes are the mightiest and most well-known of the patrons.  

“I think we should _talk to_ the orcs,” Inoke says.  “They are Galadorian, after all.”

“A pretense, nothing more.  Orcs are disgusting,” opines Chakar.  “We should slay them all and free the halflings of their threat.”  Gerontius nods vigorously.  Inoke just sighs.

The Three Rubies, as usual, treats our heroes well.  There are many lovely creatures within who are enthralled to see such legendary figures as the slayers of Asmodeus within arm’s reach, but our heroes manage to keep a little table to themselves.  As they chat, Lillamere’s eyes wander over the rest of the place, and he notices another group of folk clustered at another table.  To his surprise, seated at the table and basking in the attention he is receiving is one of his old lovers.

“I’ll be damned!” the elven baron exclaims, and rises and swiftly walks over to the other table.  The elf seated there glances up and sees him, and his face blossoms into a smile.  Though the rest of our heroes can’t hear them over the noise of the tavern, it is obvious that they know each other.  Lillamere and the other elf embrace, laughing, and begin chattering excitedly like teenaged girls.  

Inoke, however, doesn’t even notice.  He seems to be brooding into his drink.

“You know what else?” Gerontius says.  “We have a lot of treasure to _identify_ from Seclaidra’s succubi and other recent battles.”

“Where’s Orbius when you need him?” sighs Alcar.

“Maybe Lillamere could _identify_ them,” suggests Chakar.

“Or we could try to get a scroll of _analyze dweomer_, maybe in Sigil,” interjects Inoke.  “We could go see the Eyebrarian.”

“Well, we’re kind of scattered at the moment- I think Horbin’s starting to go through his confirmation hearings to be Bishop of Dorhaus- not to mention that Wankerman went to the latrine a while back and he has not returned yet, which leads me to believe that he was as drunk as he looked, and I’m getting there.”  Gerontius belches.

“But it is a good idea.  Perhaps tomorrow,” nods Chakar.

***

_*8/9/371 O.L.G., 9:30 a.m., the Halls of Healing*_

In the morning, Inoke, Gerontius, Chakar, Alcar, Wankerman and Zyltha (who has altered her form to a more half-elven one, losing her demonic wings and horns) leave Horbin’s Halls of Healing and head back to the Three Rubies.  They have seen no sign of Baron Lillamere since leaving the tavern last night, though they did see him pay for a room.  When they reach the Rubies, they find Lillamere and his new companion chatting over breakfast.

“Good morning!” Gerontius greets them.

“Good morning,” agrees Baron Lillamere with a grin.  “We’ve been catching up on old times.  Please, join us- have some breakfast.”

“Breakfast,” sighs Gerontius, rubbing his halfling belly.  He immediately flies up to a stool and digs in.  

“Who’s your friend?” asks Inoke after a moment.

“Oh!  How rude of me!”  Lillamere colors momentarily.  “This is an old companion of mine, Hyliss.  He studied at the Silver College on Tirchond.  He is skilled with both spell and sword.”  He smiles at the other elf.  “He will be joining us, adding his strength to ours.”*

The party chats over breakfast, getting to know their newer companions for a time.  As they finish their meal Gerontius mumbles something about _identifying_ loot and then attacking the orcs around a mouthful of eggs.  The party discusses sending word to the orcs that they are coming to talk and debates an attack with diplomacy.  Gerontius then names two of his daggers Diplomacy and Gerontius and laughs that he will happily use Diplomacy on the orcs.  Again the subject of _identifying_ the loot the party has comes up.

“I might be able to help with that,” Hyliss offers. “I even have an _identify_ prepared today.”

“We have many items to examine,” Gerontius replies.  “One _identify_ would not be enough.”

“But do you know _analyze dweomer?_” queries Alcar.  “It would only take a couple of those.”

“Regretfully, I don’t; but it would be a very good spell for me to learn.  If I should come across it anytime soon, I would definitely like to add it to my repertoire.”

Inoke says, “We could probably find it in Sigil.  Or maybe a scroll of it.”

“Where is Sigil?” Hyliss asks.

Dorn Wankerman laughs.  “You’re in for a treat,” he says, and almost adds _Clueless_.

***

A quick _superior teleport_ to Tirchond, specifically a certain dwarven attic, and our heroes move through the portal and out onto the streets of the extraplanar metropolis of Sigil.  The buildings are a haphazard mess of different materials.  The sky is lit by a dingy radiance that doesn’t seem to come from anywhere in particular.  As our heroes walk the streets, looking for the Eyebrary, they pass strange creatures on every corner.  Many store fronts seem to display bizarre creatures and objects in their windows, from caged mephits to percolating pink liquids bubbling through strange glass and metal apparati.  

And just about everywhere, whispers follow them.  _The Killers of Asmodeus._

Soon enough they reach the Eyebrary.  Within, the strange Eye of Boccob- who our heroes call the Eyebrarian- greets them.  It resembles a human with a giant eyeball for a head.  It greets them evenly.

“Anything especially interesting going on?” asks Lillamere.

“Can you _identify_ items for us?” asks Gerontius.

“No,” the Eye of Boccob tells them both.  “The big news remains the destruction of Asmodeus at your hands.  But I am certain you can find a scroll to aid you.”

“What about Little Alex?” asks the baron (referring to the tout who has guided them around Sigil before).  “Can anyone send him a _sending?_” asks the baron.

“I don’t have one prepared,” replies Alcar.  

“I do,” Hyliss says, “but I would have to know him.”

Chakar steps outside of the library for a moment and looks around.  A pair of loitering ruffians catch his eye across the street.

“You,” he says, pointing at one of them.

“Whatcha want, berk?” the youth retorts arrogantly.

“Do you know Little Alex?”

“I might.”

“Can you find him for me?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Gold,” Chakar replies.  He is a dwarf; he knows all about appealing to greed.  The tough speeds off after receiving a little sample of Chakar’s wealth.  

“What about me?” the other inquires plaintively.  “D’ya need anything else?  I could use a few coins meself!”

Chakar considers briefly, then says, “I am looking for a scroll of _analyze dweomer._”

“That’ll take real scrill, guv,” the tough warns.

“Don’t worry about that.  If you can tell me where it is, I can get it.”  Chakar watches the second hoodlum run off and then heads back into the Library of Boccob, where the party is clustered around a map of Valonia.  The Eye is pointing at the spot at which the Warlord of Orokeuse is presently- on the road, apprently in between Zer Squelm and a small fort.  

“I might turn into an angel and give him a message, let him know we’re coming,” muses Lillamere.

“I _am_ an angel of the Light.  With any luck they will recognize me as such.”  Alcar folds his powerful arms across his barrel chest.

“You know a lot,” says Inoke abruptly to the Eyebrarian.  “Is there a Bastion of Chaos?”

“Not as such,” responds the Eyebrarian.

“Because all this talk of attacking the Bastion of Law strikes me as sheer craziness,” Inoke confesses.  “It seems like a good way to get caught in the eternal battle to me.”

“Well, overthrowing it is a good way to end the war,” Alcar points out.  “And we have to deal with these Arrows of Law, anyway.”

“You mean the Bastion,” mutters Inoke.  “But you don’t even know what to do when you get there!  Maybe there’s another way; maybe we could take on whatever the focus of Chaos is.”

“Maybe the Eyebrarian knows what we would have to do,” wonders Gerontius.  “Do you know what we must do there to overthrow it?  Do you have a map of it?”

“I have no map,” the Eye answers, “but to overthrow it you must defile the pool at the Bastion’s heart.”

“How do we do that?” wonders Alcar.

“With Chaos,” breathes Lillamere.  “Is that it?”  At the Eyebrarian’s affirmative answer, Lillamere asks, “Like what?  How would we do that?”

“There are many possiblilties,” the Eyebrarian replies.  “Anarchic water, for instance.”

“What’s that?” wonders Chakar.

“The chaotic equivalent of holy water,” Wankerman informs him.  Chakar frowns.

“Would a fragment of an obelisk do it?” asks Gerontius.

“Oh, yes,” the Eyebrarian replies.  Suddenly there’s a knock at the door.  “It is for you,” the strange eye-headed creature tells Chakar.

“I have found our scrolls,” Chakar tells the party a moment later.  There is another knock, and Chakar moves to answer it again.  Little Alex greets him, and moments later the rest of the party, with enthusiasm.  Soon they depart the Eyebrary with their tout.  To their surprise, quite a crowd is outside, and they follow the party and their guide at a respectful distance.

“I suppose that knowing us is good for your reputation,” Chakar says to Little Alex, noting his new shoes and belt.  The rest of his clothes are still rags- a choice, suspects the monk.

“Oh, it certainly is!” agrees Alex with a grin. 

***

When all is said and done, the party sells a ton of large magic weapons and other gear, and keeps only one item: a _belt of giant strength +6._  As they cruise the market place, they are amazed by how well-known they seem to be.  At one point, a strange blue-skinned creature dressed in red and yellow robes introduces himself to Lillamere as Tezdra and claims to be a powerful arcanist interested in unique spells.  His collection seems very formidable.

And then it’s time to go.  

“Let’s go liberate my people!” urges Gerontius.

“All right, all right,” grumbles Lillamere.  “Are we going to send a message first?”

“Are we talking, or fighting?” demands Inoke.  “Last time, with Seclaidra, we said we were fighting but ended up talking.  Let’s actually talk on purpose this time.”

Chakar snorts.  

“I will use _Diplomacy_ on them,” Gerontius chuckles.  Inoke just sighs.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes meet the Warlord of the Orcs of Valonia!  An unexpected monster!  And agressive negotiations!


*Hyliss is Lillamere’s new cohort- a wizard 10/fighter 3/battlemage 5 (customer prc from my campaign).


----------



## Knightfall

the Jester said:
			
		

> Let me just say that I am _incredibly_ glad that I write my story hours up in Word before posting them these days...
> 
> My plan: one post per day (in one or more of my SH threads) until the old posts are all back in place, and then more- presumably by that time, I'll have a few new ones written and be able to leapfrog forward...




Me too.

So how many SH pages/posts did you lose for Great Conflicts?

KF72


----------



## the Jester

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> Me too.
> 
> So how many SH pages/posts did you lose for Great Conflicts?
> 
> KF72




Oh, about 21,000 words.


----------



## the Jester

The party appears off the road several miles ahead of the orcish force, along the western edge of Valonia.  It is one thousand strong- a traveling small army.  The party cannot see it due to the terrain, a jumbled mass of rocky ridges scattered with shaggy trees and bushy scrub.  The coast is less than a mile to the west. 

“Do we know the warlord’s name?” asks Inoke.

“Ragash Zelgar,” states Baron Lillamere.

Alcar spreads his wings.  “I’ll take a look around from the air,” he declares, and then with a mighty flap he ascends.  After gaining a few hundred feet, the Angel of Food peers around.  _There is the army,_ he notes, _probably a thousand of them, and only a few twists and turns along the road- but what is _that?

To the west, high clouds are scudding in.  A great shadow flits behind them.  Whatever it is, it must be huge for him to be able to notice it at this distance!  The clouds are still a couple of miles away.  Alcar watches the shadow for a moment more before descending, but he cannot ascertain any further details.  He does note how swiftly the clouds are moving in, however. 

When he rejoins his friends, he tells them, “I saw the army, but there is also something in the clouds- something big.”

“What kind of thing?”  Baron Lillamere has already cast his _shape change,_ but he keeps his form his own, at least for the moment. 

“I couldn’t tell,” Alcar replies.

Quickly, our heroes enable what flying magic they have.  Chakar remains landbound below for a few moments, until Lillamere casts _fly_ on him.  From the vantage point that Alcar had previously had, they can only see shadows; so Alcar flaps his way up above the cloud layer.

When he darts back down, he cries, “It’s a _chaos roc!_”

“What’s that?” demands Gerontius.  

“It’s a _big bad bird,_” Alcar declares.

“Should we kill it?” wonders Chakar.

“Well, how likely is it that it is a coincidence that it is here?” asks Lillamere.  “I mean, come on, the chaos roc, the army- what are the odds?”

The others ponder this for a moment.  “You may have a point,” concedes Inoke.  “If we slay it, it might help intimidate the orcs a little,” he adds after a moment.

“That’s a good point,” Lillamere responds.  

“Let’s have a look,” suggests Hyliss, and the entire party flies up above the clouds.  In the distance they can see the chaos roc, an immense bird shimmering with color.  Its great wings beat the air with immense strength.  

And it is coming right for them.

It is still perhaps a half mile from them, but it is closing very quickly.  Our heroes prepare rapidly, but the bird closes the distance in a few short moments.  When it approaches within 150’ or so, it veers off to the side.  Its eyes blaze with color, and a blast of prismatic energy lashes out over the entire party!  Most of them resist the effects of the rays that hit them.  Inoke, though, takes a blast of acid that his _energy absorption_ only partially prevents.  Lillamere, _shape changed_ into a red dragon, suffers from a direct blast of electricity, as does Hyliss.  

Wankerman charges through the air, his spear reaching out, and he smashes into the side of the monster’s great beak, cracking open a hole in it!  The monstrous bird gives a shrieking caw.  Meanwhile, Chakar rushes in and attempts to grapple the bird, but it shakes him off. 

Lillamere rakes the bird with a blast of fiery breath as he flies by it, roaring gloriously.  Hyliss tries to _disintegrate_ the monster, but it resists his spell.  And then Inoke charges into it, giving it the old Inoke Special, and it’s done.*  The giant corpse tumbles down, down, down to the ground below, landing in an explosion of feathers.

The party notes that the army seems to be heading in their direction on the ground, so our heroes descend.  They land next to the chaos roc’s corpse.  Lillamere sends out _prying eyes,_ and soon he can see the image of the orcish scouts which are coming in their direction. They hail the scouts, who seem taken aback and aren’t quite sure what to make of the party.

“I am an angel of Galador.  Bring the warlord before us,” commands Alcar. 

“Uh, the Warlord doesn’t come at your beck and call,” one of the orcs says,  “But we’ll tell him you wanna talk to him.”

The scouts fade back into the woods.  Soon the oncoming army comes into view on the road.  An honor guard surrounds a formidable-looking armored orc.  Alcar’s eyebrow quirks after he examines the guards’ uniforms and insignia.  _They are paladins!_ he realizes.  

Chakar starts.  There are a pair of dwarves behind the Warlord.

“You wanted to see me?” rumbles the Warlord of Orokeuse.

_*Next Time:*_ The negotiations begin!


*As you know, we hadn’t played the epic game in months.  I think it was at this point that I shook my head ruefully and said, “I forgot.”  Forgot how incredibly powerful the pcs in this game are.  Damn.


----------



## the Jester

“It has come to our attention that you are attacking the halflings of Valonia,” declares Baron Lillamere.  “You have to leave them alone.  Why are you attacking them?  What is your problem with them?  Perhaps we can help you seek a different solution.”

Ragash Zelgar, Warlord of Orokeuse, regards our heroes impassively.  The twenty orcish paladins in splendid array around him look ready to strike at a moment’s notice.  The two dwarves apparently accompanying the orcish warlord exchange a glance.  Chakar stares at them wrathfully.  _Dwarves working with orcs,_ he grumbles to himself.  _It’s terrible!  A disgrace!_

“You _will_ leave my people alone,” warns Gerontius. 

Ragash Zelgar, the Warlord of Orokeuse, sneers at him.  “’Your people’ are my unruly subjects.  They do not pay their taxes, they refuse to swear allegiance to me.  What would you have me do?" he shrugs.  "I cannot let such an insult go.  It would undermine my authority over the rest of _my_ people.  You must understand that they are a... rough race.”

“They are not your subjects!” Gerontius says hotly.  “What makes them your subjects?!”

While the conversation is going on, Alcar casts _detect evil._  He frowns.  The paladins are not evil; however, the warlord is.  _He’s evil, I’m going to kill him,_ the Angel of Food announces over the telepathic link.

“They’re my subjects because I said so, and because I have the power to back up my claim!” the warlord states flatly.  He rumbles deep in his chest.  “I am the Warlord of Valonia!”

“You can’t just declare them your subjects,” Chakar objects. 

“You need to relax!” Alcar shakes his finger at the warlord.  “Do you know who we are?”  His halo darkens momentarily as his hostility grows.

“No,” the warlord admits.

“We’re the slayers of Asmodeus,” Baron Lillamere declares grandiosely.  It is a claim of such weight that it would be ludicrous were it not true.  And yet-

“Who?” the warlord asks.

“The... the people who killed Asmodeus.”  No response.  “Asmodeus?  You know-“

“Never heard of him,” the warlord shrugs.

“Nonetheless,” Inoke urges, “trust us, we’re quite powerful.”

“We could destroy you and your entire army here,” warns Alcar.  

The warlord frowns.  “What is it you want?”

“We want you to leave ze halflings alone!” Gerontius cries.

“Perhaps we could negotiate an arrangement,” Lillamere offers.  “What if they agreed to pay taxes, but not to acknowledge you as their sovereign?”

“You can’t bully me,” Ragash Zelgar snorts.  “You want me to undermine my own authority?  Forget it.”

“Enough of this!” Alcar shouts angrily, and invokes a _fire storm._  White-hot fire licks out over the circle of paladins and the warlord and his two dwarven advisors.  It scorches them, and they scream in pain as they burn.  He adds more fire to the mix with another one, as well as a _flame strike_ on the warlord and one of the dwarves next to him.  The dwarf collapses, overcome.  

“Wait!” cries Horbin, but it is too late.  The dice are cast.  The rest of our heroes launch themselves into action as well.  Gerontius begins stabbing the orcish paladins, cutting them down one by one.  Lillemere chants the words to a spell and a _crushing fist of spite_ smashes down on Ragash Zelgar.  He gives a cry of pain as it deals him a mighty blow.  Pulling out his greatsword, the warlord shouts, “False angel!”  He glares at Alcar.  The charge makes the Angel of Food furious. 

Inoke swings his club gently, striking not to kill, but rather to knock his foes unconcscious.  In a single blow, he knocks over all of the paladins that he can reach, bowling them over like tenpins.*  

Yet another _fire storm_ from Alcar blasts the enemy.  Those paladins not already disabled by the rest of the party are slain.  Fires explode amongst the first ranks of the army behind them, too, who are staring in shock.  In only seconds their warlord’s advisors and his elite guard have all fallen!  Then Chakar springs, leaping upon the warlord.  For a moment there is a flurry of movement as Chakar wrestles with the orc- and then he savagely snaps the neck of Ragash Zelgar.   

From the ranks of the orcish soldiers there are screams of shock and disbelief as their warlord falls at Chakar's feet.  They begin to break in panic.  In moments it is a complete rout, and the entire force of 1000 orcish soldiers is running full tilt away from the party in a chaotic mass.

“Well, as negotiations go, that left something to be desired,” Lillamere admits.

“I don’t understand,” Inoke objects.  “We came here to talk, and ended up fighting; but against Seclaidra, we went to fight and ended up talking?  Something is backwards here.”

Alcar picks up the warlord’s body.  “I’ll be back,” he says, and flies away with it. 

_Where are you going?_ Lillamere asks telepathically, but Alcar isn’t listening- or answering.  The Baron sighs in frustration.  

“We should make a tomb or grave for the paladins,” Horbin says sadly, surveying the carnage.  Most of the bodies are blackened and burnt.  The rest of the party agrees, and with a combination of huge and large characters digging and magic (such as _stone shape_), our heroes inter the corpses.  “We’ll have to raise them all later, of course,” Horbin muses.  He frowns.  _What is Alcar doing with the body of the warlord?_ 

The party waits for about half an hour for Alcar to return, but whatever he’s doing is taking longer than that.  Finally, getting bored, Baron Lillamere suggests, “Well, why don't we go check in on the halflings?”

Thirty seconds later the party _superior teleports_ away.

_*Next Time:*_ Alcar brings the warlord back!  Our heroes hang out with the halflings and ponder the consequences of instituting a regime change on an orcish nation!  And Sybele states her conditions for storming the Bastion of Law!

*Great Cleave.


----------



## the Jester

_*A mountain in the southern portion of the Snowy Peaks, Valonia*_

Alcar alights atop a craggy mountain- a small mountain, but a mountain nonetheless.  He frowns to himself, contemplating.  His halo darkens slightly as he ruthlessly pushes all thought of remorse over killing the paladins from his mind.  _They were orcs,_ he reminds himself.

After meditating for a time, he sighs gently and pulls out a huge diamond.  Its value is extraordinary; he would not expend it lightly, not without great cause.  He glances at the body of the Warlord of Orokeuse, lord of the Valonian orcs.  

_He was evil,_ Alcar reminds himself.  Then, grudgingly, he also tells himself: _He was a Galadorian._

Alcar beats the air with his wings, taking flight and virtually hovering above the corpse of Ragash Zelgar.  The sun haloes him in the sky.  With the light of the afternoon behind him, outlining him, he casts _true resurrection_ on the orcish warlord.  As the self-styled master of Valonia gasps, life returning to his cold limbs, Alcar gently descends.  “Behold!” the angel intones.  “You have been returned from the Beyond by the mercy of Galador!”

Warlord Ragash Zelgar springs to his feet, nothing if not resilient.  “What have you done!” he cries.  “How dare you!!”  His fingers clench around empty air, but the party took his weapons, armor and gear while he was dead.  He is unarmed and defenseless.

But clearly, he is not cowed.

“Calm down,” Alcar commands.  “You must relax.  You must let the Light guide you.  Trust in the Light.  You do not need to attack the halflings.  What harm have they done you?  Perhaps you should consider joining my summer league team.”

“What harm-?  Your _what?_”  Ragash Zelgar shakes his head to clear it.  “How dare you claim to work for the Light!  _You just slew twenty paladins of the Church!_”

“That will be remedied,” Alcar assures him.  The orc gapes.  “For now, you should agree to non-aggression with the halflings.”

“Are you _mad?_  They defy my interests.  They deny my authority.  If I let them get away with it- _them,_ a group of stupid fat halflings!- how long do you think I will maintain the respect of my orcs?”

“We killed you once already,” Alcar points out.

“I do not fear you, dark angel!” Ragash Zelgar says, his voice dripping scorn.  “Fallen angel!  Get away from me!”

“I am no fallen angel,” Alcar says hotly.

“You slew my bodyguard of paladins.  You destroyed priests of the Light.  _Dwarf_ priests.”  Ragash Zelgar’s face twists in a furious scowl.  “Tell me again that you serve Galador.”

Alcar takes a deep breath, trying to still his anger.  _The orc’s right,_ he thinks.  _I need to return the dwarves, and those orcish paladins, from death._  He feels a moment of remorse, but quickly banishes it.  Aloud, he tells the warlord, “We will go raise the dwarves now.” 

Alcar picks the orc up and carries him into the sky.  Ragash Zelgar scowls the entire way.  He strongly considers attack the angel in the air, but reminds himself that he is unarmed.  He decides to wait for a better time.  _He is dangerous,_ the orc acknowledges cannily.  _He and his friends tore through my best men like a bullet through flesh.  I must be careful._  Glaring at the angel, the orc’s thoughts simmer with anger.

When they reach the site of the battle, they are dismayed to find that the paladins’ bodies are gone (buried nearby by the rest of our heroes, though Alcar and the warlord don’t know that).  Alcar _resurrects_ the two dwarves (whose bodies are still evident), then turns his attention to the missing corpses.  “Hmm,” Alcar muses, “we can find the paladins, but we’ll need the help of my friends.”  

“I think I have had enough of your friends’ ‘help’,” the warlord jeers.

“I don’t think you have!” Alcar admonishes.  He shakes his finger at the warlord.  “You are evil and unrepentant!  You make a sham of following the Light, and I will not have it!  I have tried to reason with you, but you won’t do it.  Very well!”  And with that, Alcar pronounces a _destruction_ upon the orc.  Ragash Zelgar bursts into flame and, in the space of less than a second, is nothing more than blash ash.

The two dwarves cry out in dismay.  “What have you done!” one of them cries.

“What have _you_ done in _helping_ the orcs?  They are attacking the halflings for no reason other than to control them.  They are _evil!_”

“He was our best choice,” the dwarf says heavily.

“Do not speak to _us_ of shame, Angel of Food!” cries the other dwarf.  “Yes, we know who you are!  You are _in disgrace_ in Heaven!  How dare you castigate us?”

Alcar retorts hotly, “Galador is a _prisoner_ in Heaven!  How long has it been since any angel heard His voice or saw him directly?  The forces of Law are keeping Him-“

“Preposterous!” the dwarves say as one.

“Bah!” Alcar cries.  He pumps his mighty wings and ascends into the sky, unable to stand any more of the argument.  His mighty wings take him southeast for a dozen miles, his sharp eyes peering everywhere for signs of his friends, until finally he contacts them over their permanent _telepathic bond._ 

_We’re with the halflings in Shire Role,_ Lillamere tells him.  _What happened?_

Ignoring his question, Alcar casts a _wind walk_ and heads towards the party.   

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes hang out with the halflings and ponder the consequences of instituting a regime change on an orcish nation!  Sybele states her conditions for storming the Bastion of Law!  And the party makes a new friend!


----------



## the Jester

_*8/10/371 O.L.G., 7:30 p.m., Shire Role, the Glen Lands*_

Though most of our heroes can fit in the halfling dwellings with only minor cramping, Sybele and Dorn Wankerman both find it a little bit more... challenging.  They are both, through one magical means or another, much larger than the average human.  They find the conditions cramped and uncomfortable, but both are as polite as can be about it.  After all, it isn’t every day that you get a meal cooked by a shire (or village) of halflings!

They have been talking to the halflings for several hours.  They told the wee folk of their assault on and destruction of the warlord’s army, and the halflings are generally overjoyed at the news.  However, they are also more than a little concerned (“well, who will their _new_ warlord be, I wonder?”).  Moreover, the halflings have worm problems. 

“The Prophecy of the Worms,” Inoke states grimly.

“That giant sure opened up a lot of trouble,” complains Horbin.  

Meanwhile, the overlarge Sybele turns her head towards Baron Lillamere.  As she does so, her thick blonde braid knocks over a stool.  _Listen,_ she tells the elven sorcerer over the party’s permanent _telepathic bond_, _I wanted to talk to you about storming that Law place._

_The Bastion of Law,_ Lillamere nods.  One of the times Sybele was touched by Chaos, it robbed her of the ability to remember the names of things or people.

_Right,_ she ‘says’.  _I’ll attack it with you, but I have three conditions.

First, I’ll only do it on the condition that, uh, warmind fellow doesn’t fight against us._

Inoke, in the middle of a conversation with one of the halflings, starts.  His spoken conversation falters for a moment, but then he initiates a _schism_, and while he engages the halfling with one mind (his his physical voice), his other mind speaks up over the link.  _I’m not going to go with you to attack the Bastion, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to fight against you.  You guys are my friends- I already told Horbin that that takes precedence.  Back when I had the _Mace of Saint John_ I had the same conversation with it before I converted.  You don’t have to worry about that.  But I think it’s stupid- you’re just going to get caught up in that perpetual battle in front of the Bastion.  We should do something else instead._

Lillamere replies, _Most of us made a vow in return for a gift at the Isle of Vuivui.  We have no choice in the matter._

_You swore to _Chaos,_ Inoke snorts.  Does that even count?

I didn’t take the vow, Sybele says.  But if I’m going to the Law place with you guys, I want to get back to the, uhh, Chaos island-place and get a gift as well.

Lillamere nods.  That’s a good idea.  Anyway, what’s your second condition?

Sybele tosses her head, and her braid knocks a trio of books off a halfling shelf.  After we attack the place, we go back to the mountain, where we all died.

Bile Mountain, Horbin supplies.

Yeah, that place! she exclaims telepathically.  

Yes, I want to retrieve Drelvin’s bow, Lillamere declares.  I don’t have a problem with that.

Inoke puts in, I would rather go there first.  I’ll go with you there.

Lillamere promises, That’s next on the list.

All right, Sybele states mentally.  And my third condition- you have to break the compulsion the time wizard guy has over me.

Lillamere exclaims, Marius?  What compulsion? 

A couple of years ago, he kidnapped my daughter and held her hostage.  He only released her to me when I agreed to perform three services for him.  I’ve done two.

Lillamere asks, What were they?

I helped him again one of his simulacra.  Then, he just used me as a bodyguard during this big ceremony when he was appointed an Arrow of Law.  He was just showing off that time, really.

Inoke sends over the link, Well, you made a deal.  You shouldn’t break it just because it’s convenient.

She was under duress, Chakar objects.  You cannot be held to a deal made under duress.  Inoke only shrugs.  

All right, I can agree to all of that. 

Good- then we will go to the Isle of Vuivui tomorrow, Lillamere declares.  You can get a gift of Chaos, and we’ll go on from there.

I think we should finish making sure that my people are safe, Gerontius opines.  Who knows what the orcs will do now?  And zey have worm problems.*

The worms seem like a pressing issue for your people, Chakar nods.  

Lillamere nods.  And I can agree to that as well.  All right, so a few small diversions before we hit the Bastion.

Good, Inoke states.  I’m telling you, that’s a bad idea.  Think about all those people caught up in it!  Do you really want to be one of them?

Of course nobody does, but they nonetheless have made a commitment.  Still, the thought of being caught up in eternal conflict leaves our heroes cold.  “We’ll just have to make sure that it doesn’t happen,” declares Lillamere.

***

*8/11/371 O.L.G., 9:30 a.m.*

Breakfast, naturally, is terrific (“most important meal of the day,” nods the halfling cook).  Wankerman accidentally knocks over the same three books that Sybele’s hair got last night, but Sybele amazingly doesn’t disturb anything special.  As they are eating, they hear a commotion outside.  It seems the halflings have another visitor: a fellow named Sonja.  Sonja proves to be a man of red and brown hair who has the look of a fellow used to the wilderness.  The halflings introduce him as another individual who has helped them against the orcs in the past.  “We just killed their warlord,” Baron Lillamere tells him.  Whether or not this was a good idea, I am not sure, he adds to himself.  Indeed, he is growing more and more uneasy, worrying about the possible consequences.  Who will take over?  Will he be better or worse?  This may complicate things... Worse, the warlord was a cog in the war machine of Law.  Law’s not going to take this well, he thinks mournfully.

Sonja, meanwhile, engages the rest of the party in conversation, and upon being drawn out himself he admits that he is a druid (and actually knows Seethe).  From what the halfling chatter tells our heroes, he is of some repute, as well.  He also admits to having dealt with some worms in the area.

The party hits it off with Sonja in that way that they often do with new pcs.  His politics are ambiguous; he seems inclined to strike at Law when the party mentions the idea, but when Inoke says that they should look for whatever the Bastion of Chaos might be and strike it down as well, Sonja shrugs and agrees to that idea as well.

Alcar arrives after the group has been conversing with Sonja for an hour or so.  He is there just in time for elevensies.  As he is the Angel of Food, this is perfectly appropriate, and he creates a heroes’ feast to accompany the halfling cooks.  This causes great joy through the shire.  Alcar and Sonja exchange introductions.  

“Well, would you like to accompany us to the Isle of Vuivui?” offers Lillamere. 

“It is a far journey, but we shall make it quickly,” Chakar says solemnly.

“Sure,” Sonja nods. 

“Right,” says Dorn Wankerman.  “But let’s go outside to gather.  I need a stretch!”

*Next Time:*  A shocking suprise at the Isle of Vuivui!  Alcar has a very interesting commune!  And worms!!


*One of Gerontius’ Chaos traits is an outrageous French accent._


----------



## the Jester

Vuivui is far away, well out of the range of even a single _superior teleport._  “We’ll have to jump there in stages,” Baron Lillamere advises.  The group gathers around him and he intones the words of his spell; then their surroundings are different, just like that.  They are on a windswept shoal, water pouring over their feet.  Immediately Lillamere casts another _superior teleport_ and the group blinks away.  They do it again, and find themselves on an isle of broken rock.

A short distance away, in the surf, a huge crustacean covered in the corpses of dead sailors heaves itself ashore.

Puzzled, Lillamere says, “I would think we should be there by now.”  He casts another _superior teleport._  Nothing happens.  He looks around, eyes widening.  The isle they are on is churned and blasted stone.  He locks eyes with Syebe for a moment.

“They’ve destroyed it,” breathes Sybele.  “The forces of Law have destroyed the isle of the Chaos guy!”

Sonja points at the crab, abashed at the party’s nonchalance.  “There’s a monster coming!” he warns.  

Almost as an afterthought, the party deals with the crab.  It shoots barbs at them, but Sonja immediately proves his worth by using a _reverse gravity_ spell to render it nigh-helpless, and then it’s just a few spells away from being slain.  Then they take a closer look around.  The isle they are on is essentially a pile of rubble.  Gerontius and Inoke move some of it around, and what they find confirms their fears.

“Look under here,” Gerontius tells the others.  “Beholder bits!”

Our heroes surmise that they have found the remains of some of the Isle of Vuivui’s three-headed beholder guardians.  Sybele begins to tremble in anger.  _This makes me _more_ inclined to strike the Bastion of Law!_ she thinks.  Her pulse pounds with rage.

“Let’s see if the pool of Chaos is still around,” suggests Lillamere.  “Maybe it will still work...”

But it doesn’t.  The party finds it, but it is clear that the forces of Law have defiled it.  Though a residual aura of Chaos lingers on it, the pool of Chaos from which many of the party members gained boons has been rendered inert.

“Let’s see what I can find out,” Alcar offers, and _communes._

_Is there a way to restore the Chaos portal?_ 

There is no answer.

_Who the hell am I talking to?_

There is still no answer.

Alcar ends the spell.  “Somebody’s mad at me,” he gripes.

“What do you mean?” Inoke asks.  Alcar explains the results, and Inoke shakes his head.  “You got Galador mad at you?”

“No,” Alcar replies with a sigh, “it’s the angels of Law.  The bureacracy that handles most of this stuff.”  He hesitates, then plunges on.  “I think they have Galador imprisoned.  At one point some years ago, while I was in Heaven, someone revealed to me that the true voice of Galador Himself had not been heard for quite some time.”

This gives our heroes something new to ponder.  They return to Var and rest; it has been a long day.

***

_*8/11/371 O.L.G., 9:30 a.m., the Var annex of the Temple of Elemental Good*_

After eating a hearty breakfast, the Angel of Food attempts another _commune._

_Is there a way to reactivate the Chaos pool?
Does the Bastion of Law know we plan to attack?
Are you going to answer any of my questions?_

At last, there is an answer: *Maybe.*

_Is Belmondo on Var?
Are the forces of Law responsible for the attack on the Isle of Chaos?
Are the Bile Lords keeping an eye on us?_

Frustrated, Alcar ends his spell.  Pacing back and forth, he wonders, _What question will they answer?_

***

_*10:30 a.m., the Three Rubies, Var*_

“Before we go to attack the Bastion,” Gerontius states, “I want to make sure my people are okay.  We should destroy the worm portal near them.”

“Last time we were in Sigil, I purchased some gloves that will let me seal a portal once per day,” Inoke reveals.  “So it won’t even be that hard to do, once we defeat the guardians of the portal- whatever they are.”

Sybele says, “They’re usually either worms or slaadi.”

“It does sound like a worthy cause,” Chakar nods at Gerontius. 

“The orcs aren’t going to stop attacking them, though,” Inoke opines.  “Either the next warlord will keep trying to take them, or Prayzose will bring the one we killed back.  We should see if they want to relocate, and take them all to Dorhaus!”

“What an interesting proposition,” Lillamere muses.  “They could come to Brelana to live.  I could use more subjects.”

“Why don’t we suggest it to them?”  Gerontius smiles.  “We can destroy the worms threatening them and try to warn off the warlord, and hopefully convince them to come to a safer place.  I am fairly well known among them; they might listen to me.”

It can’t hurt to try it, the party agrees, and so they once again _superior teleport_ to the Glen Lands, where the halflings live.  They propose to one of the halfling Guv’nors that they come to Dorhaus with their people, and though the Guv’nor seems amenable to the idea, he also seems dubious as to whether his folk will want to leave their homes.  “I’ll bring it up in parliament, though,” he promises.

Again the halflings cook a great feast for our heroes, impressing even Alcar with their cunning cuisine.  The angel naturally _creates food and drink_, bringing an enormous number of fresh apple pies into being.

One of them is spotted and spoiled-looking.  

“Somebody’s mad at me,” Alcar says quietly, removing the bad one from the stack.

_*Next Time:*_ Worm attack!  A message from Prayzose!  And political complications!


----------



## the Jester

_*1 p.m., Shire Role, the Glen Lands*_

Chakar belches appreciatively.  _They may be frivolous,_ he sighs to himself, _but halflings sure can cook!_  Indeed, the food is better here than he has ever consistently had.  Between Alcar’s magical confections and the halfling cuisine, he figures he is eating better than any other dwarf ever has.  He picks up another cracker smeared with spicey cheese and prepares to take a bite.

But, as peaceful a day as this cannot last.  His reverie is interrupted by a cry from outside.

_“WORMS!”_

Our heroes spring up, disengaging from their gentle attempts at persuading the halflings to emigrate to Dorhaus.  _Worms!_  The cry sends a chill down our heroes’ spines.  They have dealt with many worms since the giant Fnogghi Chaos-Hand invoked the Prophecy of the Worms, and they have many more to deal with before all is said and done.  There are many portals to be destroyed or shut down or redirected, and until they can all be attended to, the worms that spew forth from them must be fended off.  “We must defend my people!” cries Gerontius, and the party hurries outside, where they see a small group of halflings running towards shelter.

“Where are they?” demands Alcar, and one of the halflings waves wildly behind him before vanishing indoors.  The cries of the locals ring out here and there as doors are shut and locked and windows are shuttered.  Our heroes gaze in the indicated direction.  

Worms.

The party springs into action, moving rapidly towards the oncoming worms.  In but a few moments Lillamere has graced those who need it with _fly_ spells, and our heroes speed through the air at the onrushing monsters.  Looking down at them, the heroes see four immense worms dripping slime.  They are the color of pale human flesh, and look disturbingly similar to it, even having small hair-like follicles that sprout from them.  They are enormous, stretching out almost 60’.

_Haven’t we seen these things before?_ wonders Sybele over the telepathic link, but nobody else recognizes them immediately.

Then the party is smashing into them.  In just a few seconds, they deal telling blows to one of the worms.  But, as Alcar’s _fire storm_ burns into it, the worm splits in two!

“It’s dividing!” shouts Hyliss, casting _far strike_ on his longsword.  

The party pounds the worms for a few moments, but all they succeed in doing is worsening the odds.  The worms divide and divide again; worse yet, their damage is healing very rapidly.  In less than a minute, the party has gone from facing four opponents to facing ten humungous worms!

“This isn’t working too well,” comments Sonja.  He blasts the worms with a _fire storm_.  Flames seem to be the most effective weapon against the creatures, and our heroes rapidly switch tactics.  Inoke backs off, having created several enemies in his initial charge, and Alcar and Sonja take the lead in dishing out flames to the enemies.  Baron Lillamere _shape changes_ into a red dragon and uses his scorching breath to burn some of the worm infestation away.  Sybele manifests _breath of the black dragon_ and gleefully ascertains that acid, too, will inflict real damage on the worms.  To the party’s chagrin, Hyliss tries a _chain lightning_ only to split another worm off.  He curses vehemently, but by this time the party has turned the tide of what could have been a very ugly battle.  Chakar manages to pin one of the last worms to the ground (!), and Sonja and Alcar, both of them out of _fire storms_, begin erecting _walls of fire_ to finish the last couple of worms off.  Sybele actually ends the battle when she vomits up another spray of acid, eating through the last fleshy worm.

“I know we’ve seen these things before,” Sybele grumbles, “but I can’t recall where!”*

“You see?” Gerontius rants.  “We should close the worm gate nearest the Glen Lands.  My people are not safe until we do!”

“You may be right,” Lillamere admits.

“Helping your folk is a worthy cause,” Chakar agrees.

“I’m all for it.  It’s better than attacking the Bastion of Law.”  Inoke shakes his head.  “You guys are crazy for even thinking about doing that!”

Baron Lillamere sighs.  “That’s a discussion for another time,” he says.  “For now, it seems like we’re in agreement: we should take out this portal first.”

“I’m low on spells,” Alcar notes.  “We should rest first.”

Sonja nods.  “I agree.  I’ve used up most of my fire spells.  If we meet more of these things, we need to be prepared for them.”

“There might be slaadi at the gate instead,” Sybele says.  “Or both.”

“So we rest, and then we attack ze worms!” Gerontius insists.  The others see no real problem with this approach to the remainder of the day; after all, the halflings are most hospitable.  Only Sybele and Dorn Wankerman have second thoughts, and only because of their large size.  They will have to sleep outside- but both of them are hardy adventurers, used to far worse accomodations than the gentle grassy ground of the Glen Lands.  

“It’s settled, then,” Inoke says.

***

_*8/12/371 O.L.G., 9 a.m.*_

The party is eating breakfast when the _sending_ reaches Baron Lillmere.  It is from Prayzose, Emperor of Forinthia and High Priest of the Light.  It is a simple message, but one that complicates things immeasurably for our heroes.

_The Warlord of Orokeuse is under my protection._

Lillamere swears aloud as he replies.  _The halflings are under our protection.  It was never our intention to engage the high orc.  We tried diplomacy; that failed.  Let us talk._

“What’s wrong?” asks Chakar.

“Prayzose,” Lillamere answers, “is sending us a message...”

Another _sending_ arrives just a moment later.  _Any other leader for them would be far worse.  Leave well enough alone and do not destabilize things.  Be mindful of the precedent you are setting._

Lillamere sighs and responds again.  _Prayzose, I respect you and will leave well enough alone- we all will.  But I wish we could talk this out.  I urge you to_- Lillamere mutters to himself.  He is out of words.  Quickly he details the back and forth messages for the others.  

Horbin says, “I think I’d better issue a _sending_ of my own to the Bishop of Valonia.  He probably isn’t very happy with... recent events here.”  And he proceeds to do so: _Our flocks have clashed.  Halfligns are under my protection.  Let us talk- work it out, before Prayzose if necessary._

A reply is almost instant.  _The warlord is the best choice of a bad bunch.  He must be preserved, lest things grow even worse on Valonia._

Horbin frowns to himself and casts the spell again.  _No dispute with leadership.  Halflings have right to live unmolested.  Guide your orcs to higher light.  When/where can we meet?_

Again, the reply comes immediately.  _Orcs need much shepherding.  We will meet three days hence at your confirmation hearings.  We can discuss this then._

Horbin groans.  “This whole affair may affect my chances of being appointed Bishop.”

Lillamere shakes his head.  “Prayzose is behind you.  I don’t think he’s going to let you fail- I imagine some of his prestige rides on your appointment.” 

The cleric nods hesitantly.  “I hope you’re right,” he replies.

_*Next Time:*_ Judge Alito’s- er, I mean, Horbin the MFKG Holy’s- confirmation hearings!  A messenger from the Warlord of Orokeuse!  And the halfling worm portal!


*Any of you Gentle Readers pinpoint the earlier encounter in question?


----------



## the Jester

_*8/16/371 O.L.G., the Hall of the Bishops Elector, in the Cathedral of Fuzia, Dorhaus*_

Horbin looks around the chamber nervously.  Baron Lillamere stands close by, here to give him moral support.  There are many clergymen here, their vestments rustling as they discuss matters of theology or politics or both.  Eyes keep turning towards Horbin as they converse.  Many of them are hostile to him, including the dwarven Bishop of Valonia, whom Horbin’s companions recently killed (though he is back now).  Many more of them are no doubt wary of Horbin, given his ecclesiastically liberal reputation.  After all, Horbin is just a figurative inch away from being a heretic.

And yet High Priest (and Emperor) Prayzose has nominated him for the prestigious position of Bishop of West Dorhaus.  Prayzose!  _Who would have thought that he would be backing me up,_ Horbin thinks in wonder, and then shakes his head to clear it.  He will need all his wits for this; these men and women are free-willed, and probably strong-willed.  They are, after all, the electors of the Church of the Light, and his confirmation hearings are about to begin.  The people in the hall are slowly taking their seats, and the sounds of conversation are dying little by little.

“Don’t worry,” Baron Lillamere murmurs to Horbin in an attempt to reassure his friend.  “I don’t think Prayzose would back you if he couldn’t get you confirmed.”

Horbin nods.  He isn’t entirely certain whether he hopes Baron Lillamere is right or not... _Bishop!_  He shakes his head.  He certainly never would have expected such a high position back when he started his career.  Hell, he never would have expected it at all, ever- he was never philosophically in line enough with his nominal superiors.  Always, he has been on the fringes of acceptable theological theory.  _Yet here I am,_ he thinks.  He shakes his head again in wonder.  It seems unreal. 

Some of his competition for the position is also present.  Prime among them- and the next most likely candidate for Bishop- is one of Queen Moira’s cousins, Rethona.  _Maybe I should back out and let her take it,_ Horbin thinks wryly,giving her a quiet, polite greeting.  Her reply, while not rude, is... subdued.  Bishop Tarric of East Dorhaus studies him over a cup of wine, taking his measure.  They have never met before, yet they might soon be... colleagues, of a sort.  Usually the Bishoprics of West and East Dorhaus are, to some extent, rivals; but now, with Malford’s kingdom at war with the Tiger Empress, Horbin silently vows to work together with Bishop Tarric.

Soon- slowly- the hearings commence.  There are a few short orations about Horbin’s fitness or unfitness to lead Western Dorhaus.  Soon the questions come: questions about his beliefs, hard questions about Horbin’s attitudes towards (and, by inference, willingness to obey) superiors in the church.  There are harangues about the party’s recent... indiscretions on Valonia.  

Yet Horbin speaks well, persuasively arguing that his greatest interest is the good of the people of Dorhaus.  He points out that he had no part in the attack on the orcs, instead trying to stop combat from breaking out at all.  He exhorts the virtues of the Light and lays out in simple terms the good that he can do.  He declares that even Dexter traveled in questionable company (witness Lochenvare and others) and that even the most dangerous person may come into the Light (witness Dexter Himself).  He claims that he attempts to steer his companions, some of the most powerful men and women on all of Cydra, to do good.  He provides them with moral guidance.  Horbin’s words are logical, his tone is persuasive and his sincerity is apparent.

In the end, of course, there is a vote.  Everyone except the Bishops Elector, a select group of powerful members of the clergy, retires from the hall.  Outside, more than one person glares at Horbin, and more than one smiles at him too.

“You’re in,” Baron Lillamere predicts confidently.

Within the chamber, the electors debate fiercely.  The dwarven Bishop of Valonia promises, “If you elect him, you elect trouble!  Just look at the company he keeps!”

The Cardinal of Moire, a half-elf named Renderai, objects, “You can’t judge a man by the company he keeps.”

Another of the clergymen answers, “You must judge a man somehow.”

Cardinal Renderai says, “Yet Horbin makes a good point in his own defense.  How much worse might his companions make things were he not there to moderate them?”

“Moral guidance,” nods Bishop Tarric.  “There is something to what he says.”

“Do not forget,” rumbles the Valonian cleric, “he _killed_ me.  I cannot believe we are even _considering_ electing him!”

“_He_ did not kill you, my friend,” the Archbishop of Forinthia soothes, “his friends did.  If he truly did not get involved in the battle, except to try to prevent it, I do not think we can fault him.”

“He did nothing to stop the slaughter!  Nothing!  They killed _paladins!_  And they decided to kill the Warlord, who is the best thing we can possibly hope for from the orcs, without thinking about the repercussions!”

“They acted rashly, from ignorance,” nods the Bishop of Gorel.  He scowls.  “Horbin is careless.  I hear he is given to drink.  I don’t believe he can be trusted to behave with the appropriate discretion.”

The Archbishop of Forinthia looks pensive.  “That would, inevitably, expose him to certain... sensitive information.”  He frowns thoughtfully.  “A rogue bishop of his power would be, ah, _unsettling._”  He shakes his head gravely.  “I must counsel against his election.  Rethona is a superior candidate, with no blemish of scandal or heterodoxy.  I say we elect her.”

“Do not give up on Horbin so easily, my friends,” Renderai urges.  “Look beyond the mistakes he has made.  Rethona is strictly orthodox, but she is... unimaginative.  She does not compell people.  Horbin’s charisma, as well as his sheer _power,_ make him a very attractive potential bishop.”

They argue for some time.  In the end the vote is nearly tied.  Horbin is confirmed over Rethona by a single vote.  

***

_*8/18/371 O.L.G., 10 a.m., Brelana, Dorhaus*_

A message to the party, in care of Baron Lillamere, arrives via orcish mage.  It is from the Warlord of Valonia.

_Baron Lillamere, 

We demand the return of our stolen gear as well as that of our murdered bodyguards.  If you refuse we will take it as tantamount to an act of war, and we will demand satisfaction from your King.

Warlord of Orokeuse,
Ragash Zelgar_

Chakar snorts in disgust.  Our heroes openly scoff at the note, then promise the orcish wizard that they will back to the warlord soon.  The orcish wizard is plainly not satisfied.  He stalks off stiffly and _teleports_ away. 

“Give him back his stuff,” scoffs Alcar. 

***

_*11 a.m.*_

“We have to deal with the Bastion of Law soon,” muses Lillamere.  

“I think we should take care of the worm portal near my people on Valonia first,” Gerontius asserts.  Inoke nods.

“There really isn’t much point in doing something half-way,” Chakar points out.

Baron Lillamere sighs.  “The longer we give the forces of Law to prepare, the worse it will be for us.  On the other hand, I can’t argue with helping Gerontius’ people first.”  

“Yeah, it probably won’t take very long,” smirks Gerontius.

In less than half an hour they are all gathered, armed, and ready.  Then a simple _superior teleport_ takes them to where they need to go: the exit tunnel the worms that they had previously fought came out of.  (They decide against teleporting directly to the portal, as it is likely to be heavily guarded.)

Down into the tunnels our heroes go, and soon enough they run into trouble in the form of a slaad as black as pitch.  There is a brief, furious battle, but the frog-like outsider cannot withstand Gerontius’ skill with daggers.*  It does demonstrate a deadly capability, however: its bite leaves a twisting, burning mass of Chaos on Alcar!  The Chaos sizzles and pops as it eats away at the Angel of Food.  Even after the slaad’s demise it continues, and Alcar groans and heals himself through the pain, and eventually the Chaos burns itself out.  He looks at the others, shaken.  “A few of those bites and you wouldn’t be worried about much of anything else!” he grumbles. 

The party continues along the way until they tire of the winding tunnels and maze-like twists and turns.  “Enough’s enough,” Lillamere declares.  “We’re just going to get lost in here at this rate.  I’m sure we can handle whatever is waiting for us.”  He casts _superior teleport_ and the party moves with much greater accuracy to their goal.  In less than an instant, they are in a chamber whose only illumination comes from a flickering grey glow surrounding a portal.  Another of the black slaadi, looming larger than the one that they faced before, and two huge stinking worms, crawling with other worms, dance and writhe in the chamber.  

Almost immediately, one of the gargantuan worms belches out a spray of necromantic acid.  It reminds Horbin strongly of Bile Mountain (_-no, it’s Angelfire Mountain,_ he reminds himself) as the foul fluid saps the health of almost everyone.  

The second worm vomits out a mass of needle-like things; it is only when the ‘needles’ assemble themselves into human skeletons that our heroes realize they are bones.  

Our heroes burst into action.  

The slaad proves magically potent, _ruining_ Wankerman and attempting to _implode_ Gerontius.  But our heroes are incredibly powerful.  Alcar’s _mass heal_ brings the group back to full health and blows the skeletons apart, and then the party lays into their foes.  Things get rocky when another two slaadi show up, answering the big one’s call; but our heroes manage to tear them apart.**  Again, Gerontius’ lingering damage is key to defeating the slaadi.  Even when the black one pronounces a _word of Chaos,_ there is never much doubt.  Inoke’s massive blows devastate the worm-things.  Chakar even manages to leap momentarily upon one of the worms and grapple it – if only for an instant!  

Alcar charges in on one of the worms, but it snatches him from the air and crushes him in its mouth.  He groans and cries out as his blood and the necromantic acid drooling from the worm’s mouth smear his body.  Chakar springs in to try to free him, but the worm smashes him away badly mauled.  He slumps, unconscious and dying, to the ground. 

Another _mass heal,_ this one from Horbin, and Chakar is conscious.  He rolls through an _abundant step_ and out of danger, then regains his feet.  

_Flame strikes, destruction_ spells and worse blast out, back and forth.  Our heroes pour out an incredible inferno of deadly magical energy, devastating their foes!  It is only a few more moments before the worms and slaadi are finally defeated.  Then our heroes take a moment to regain their wind.  

“All right.”  Inoke pulls on his _gloves of seal portal._  “I’ll finish this,” he says.  With a touch, the chaos portal goes dormant, and he does.

_*Next Time:*_ Lester and Orbius return!  A note, delivered by arrow!  What’s the best way to keep track of a party that’s constantly _mind blanked?_  And- Bile Mountain??

*Gerontius has the Lingering Damage epic feat and was sneak attacking the slaad about 3-6 times per round.  That means 3-6 times that the slaad takes sneak attack damage again the next round.

**A black slaad and two advanced ulgustastra = EL 27.  Granted, the party is big, but... damn, they tore this up!  It was a seven-round fight though- pretty long for combat at this level.


----------



## the Jester

_*1 p.m., the Temple of Elemental Good*_

Lunch at the Temple of Elemental Good: fresh from the gardens, with the meat of some large birds native to the Bendrock Mountains as the centerpiece.  Delicious as always, but perhaps inferior to that served by the halflings of Valonia.  Nonetheless, it is more than satisfactory- and, of course, it is good to see Lester and Orbius. 

“...yes, administrating the Temple takes a lot of Lester’s time,” Orbius finishes, and the Eye of Boccob takes another sip of his wine.  He usually speaks for Lester when they are speaking aloud, as Lester must rhyme.  However, amongst the party (excepting Sonja), Lester (also called the L or the Angel of Adventure) can communicate telepathically over the permanent Rary’s interplanar telepathic bond that the group shares.  

“I like your new hair style,” Sybele compliments Lester.  

He now sports corn rows instead of his more traditional afro.  He grins his thanks and sends telepathically, _Thanks!  Yeah, afros are really lawful._

The party is enjoying the companionship of their old friends.  They step outside and begin to amble along, filling the L and the Eye in on their recent activities and their current plans.  After a few disjointed moments talking about their recent conflict with the orcs, Sybele segues into their plans for the near future.  “We’re going to go attack that place where Law has its big fortress and stuff,” she tells them.*

“The Bastion of Law,” Gerontius fills in. 

_The Bastion!  Screw that!  We should just stay out of the whole Great War of Ethics thing completely.  Let’s go attack the folks warring to become the new Prince of Elemental Evil Fire instead,_ Lester suggests.

“That sounds good,” Inoke agrees.  “We certainly shouldn’t-” he switches to the telepathic link- [/i]attack the Bastion, and I am not going to.  Also, we shouldn’t talk about this out loud.[/i]**

As the party begins to walk amongst a small grove of apple trees, heading in the general direction of the Temple of Elemental Good Water, Gerontius sends over the telepathic link, _You know, Lester, the forces of Law destroyed the Isle of Vuivui._

But Lester replies, _So what?  Chaos will just have a new one somewhere.  It’s probably a good thing, even; the Isle of Vuivui had been there for a long time.  It was getting kind of Lawful._  He grins and winks.  

“Well, didn’t you-” _swear an oath to Chaos at the Isle of Vuivui that you’d try to overthrow the Bastion?_ Baron Lillamere asks.

_Yeah, but c’mon, they’re Chaotic.  And so am I._  Lester’s swarthy face erupts in a grin again.  _What are they going to do, sue me?_  The irony is heavy in his mental tone.

“I swore an oath, and I’m keeping it,” Lillamere insists.  “You should too.”

Orbius shrugs.  “But did you swear _when_ you would do it?”

Lillamere retorts, “We can’t give them time to plan.”  _This is _Law._  If they have time to plan for us, it will be much harder.  We have to hit them hard and fast, when they don’t expect us to, if we’re going to overthrow the Bastion.  Law excells at planning.  If we wait too long, they will be utterly ready for us!_ 

_There’s another thing,_ Sybele sends.  She hesitates, then adds, _I don’t want big bad warmind guy to fight us on this._

“Me?” Inoke exclaims.

“Yeah,” she answers.  _I mean, you’re Lawful now and all... and I _don’t_ want to fight you._

_I already said I won’t fight you guys.  I won’t help you storm the Bastion- and I think you’re making a terrible mistake- but you’re my friends.  I won’t fight against you.  But maybe we can do something else first?  Maybe we could do this thing Lester’s talking about with the would-be new Elemental Prince, or go back into Bile Mountain, or-_

Then an arrow zips out and hits the tree next to Sybele with a meaty *thunk!*  It sinks deep into the tree, vibrating for a moment as it spends its momentum. 

“What the hell?” Sybele wonders. 

There appears to be a note attached.  

She plucks the arrow from the tree (not without some difficulty).  She unfastens the note from the shaft and reads it.  “Oh no,” Sybele says, her eyes going wide.  “It’s the leshay.”

“The leshay?” asks Chakar.

“It’s kind of an uber-fey.  We were at a fey party and I got really drunk and puked on him.”

“What does he say?” asks Gerontius, cocking an eyebrow in interest.

“He’s hunting me,” Sybele replies unhappily.

The group surveys the hillside.  There is a fair amount of shrubbery and small trees that could conceal an archer. 

“That’s not too wise,” Lester comments.  “I mean, didn’t we kill Asmodeus not too long ago?”

“Oh, man,” moans Sybele.

“Maybe we can talk to him,” suggests Baron Lillamere.

Then the leshay pops up from behind a rock, bow in hand. 

Instantly, Orbius casts _time stop._  He grins to himself as he casts _spell turning_ to protect himself, then summons forth a _sphere of ultimate destruction._  He then uses his mastery of shaping to summon a dome of force over the leshay, hoping to trap it.  Then...

The leshay _teleports_ out from under the dome and launches a single arrow at Sybele, hitting her in the chest.  “Argh!”  She staggers back, but Orbius is already in action again, using his _quickening rod_ to instantly _mass teleport_ the party to next to the leshay.  Then he casts another _time stop_ and fires off a succession of spells to prepare:[/i]greater invisibility, Orbius’ eldritch penetrations, Marius’ double actions[/i] and _summon monster_ to bring forth a massive fire elemental.

But as time starts to move again, the leshay _teleports_ away again with a mocking bow. 

The party alertly surveys the area, looking for any signs of the leshay (or, frankly, any of their other enemies).  After a few tense moments, they become convinced that the fey is no longer present.  

“He’ll be back,” Sybele groans.  “I’m sure of it.”

“Like we didn’t have enough trouble already,” grumbles Lillamere.

_*Next Time:*_ Orbius does some divining!  Chakar looks for the Perfect Masters!  And our heroes decide that it’s time to go back to Bile Mountain at last!

*Sybele, you will recall, cannot remember names.

**Our group, having the telepathic bond, uses a convention where you touch your forehead to indicate that you’re using your link.  Often people start off out loud and then switch to telepathy.  It must be odd to witness a group conversing like this!


----------



## the Jester

Immediately after the Leshay teleports away for the secoond time, the party scouts out the surrounding area to make sure that the powerful fey did indeed retreat. The party does not see the Leshay, but some notice a diminutive humanoid figure watching them near to where the Leshay was.

The first to act is Gerontius who meanders over to where the Leshay was, exclaiming "I sink I zee a bag, which he may ave dropped. Perhaps there is zomezing of value in iit." Gerontius, however, saw no such bag; it was merely a ruse to keep the little fellow off his guard. As Gerontius approaches near to where the diminutive fellow is he bursts into action and grabs him up faster than the eye can see.

The little fellow is obviously quite surprised by the sudden turn of events, perhaps because he was noticed when he is so often overlooked by bigger folk, perhaps because he never saw the hand that grabbed him till he was in its clutches, or perhaps because he knows he is caught. Gerontius looks at the little fellow, who turns out to be a grass faerie, with a smile from ear to ear and with a chortle asks "vhat do ve ave ere?" The little fellow asks Gerontius in Halfling "Hey, put me down. What are you guys doing out here anyway?" Gerontius retorts "I might ask you the same." Inoke is much more blunt about his apprach and says "There was a Leshay here a few moments ago, what do you know about it." The little fey fellow has a palpable bead of sweat on his brow as he replies "The only people who are or were here is us. Why would a Leshay be interested in you anyway? I don't know any Leshay, but if I did and it were me I would not want to anger one, otherwise I would be liable to get hunted." Sybele asks the grass faerie what he knows of the hunt and learns that the hunted must survive a quiver full of arrows, then over the telepathic link she chimes in, 1 down 19 to go. She then tells the faerie she's being hunted for an incident at the Fey Party, the grass faerie replies that that is common knowledge amongst Fey.

Gerontius meanwhile gets the impression that the faerie is lying about not knowing the Leshay and accuses the faerie of spying on them. Before the faerie can respond, Gerontius offers him a ticket to view the hunt as it unfolds, to which the Faerie accepts. Gerontius, with a devious smile, says you get a free trip inside Sybele's shirt pocket. The Faerie however does not to want to be that close to the hunt, so Gerontius offers him an alternative "...zat you do not spy on us, nor cauze any more mizchief, well mizchief directed at us anyway." The faerie accepts the alternative, and warns the party that he is not the only Fey assisting the Leshay on the hunt. Sybele then asks to hold the Faerie to which she promptly flicks off the palm of her hand.


_*Next Time:*_ More fey spies!  The Arrows of Law discuss Asmodeus' replacement!  And Chakar begins his search for the Perfect Masters!


----------



## Sandain

Deja vu?  I am sure this exact same thing happened a few months ago .


----------



## the Jester

Sandain said:
			
		

> Deja vu?  I am sure this exact same thing happened a few months ago .




Yeah- I'm reposting the updates that were lost when the boards crashed a few weeks ago.   You may note that most of the reposts have significant editing and, in some cases, expanded scenes (or new scenes entirely!)


----------



## the Jester

*Deciding What to Do*

_*8/8/371, 10 p.m., Pesh City*_

Within a large vaulted chamber dominated by a massive table of stone chased with copper they meet.  “Ah, Prayzose.”  Marius the Chronomancer smiles as the Emperor of Forinthia makes his entrance and takes a seat.  Emperor Prayzose nods back to him.  “How did it go?”

“He agreed,” Prayzose says with a smile.  “We will have our seventh Arrow soon.”

“In forty-nine days.”

“In forty-nine days,” Prayzose agrees.  

Dekrasode sneers.  “Cleverly done, o Emperor.  You have shifted the balance among us.  Now you will have a companion in goodness amongst our number.”

“There should be a certain level of balance,” Lord Alyth of Fendobarz points out.  “As it was, evil was strongly represented, while good was only...”  He gestures at Prayzose.  “Now, with this new addition, there will be two good Arrows.  Until the death of Asmodeus, it was three to one evil to good.  I approve.”

Dekrasode sneers again, but Emperor Prayzose only nods.  “The balance is improved.  Our forces cannot win a permanent victory without a certain level of equity between good and evil.”  But the Emperor frowns in distaste as he says this.

“Though pure Law is most important,” declares Alyth.  Marius nods agreement.  

“Yet until he is installed, we remain vulnerable.”  Prayzose frowns.  “And we know that Lester and Sybele and their friends seek the Bastion’s overthrow.  We must be fastidious in our defense of it.”

“Cluma maintains the guard even now,” Dekrasode declares.  “Yet are you certain our would-be seventh Arrow is not setting us up for a fall?  Is he truly sincere about joining us?  I know you can be persuasive, yet I find it hard to believe that he would work with us... and he _is_ in a fantastic position from which to betray us.”  The dragon’s voice is droll.  

“Harder to believe than that _I_ would work with you?” Prayzose asks ironically.  “Yes, I am sure of his sincerity.  I simply pointed out the issues of balance that we have been discussing amongst ourselves.  He can see which way the wind is blowing, and he has no desire to see Law and Evil triumph over the multiverse.  Law, yes; Evil, no.  And his presence will aid us in bringing a balanced reign to things.”

“Forty-nine days,” muses Marius.  “I wish I could speed up the framework...”

“The rules must be obeyed,” Lord Alyth states firmly.  “It is impossible to manipulate this time frame.  You know as well as I that attempting to cheat the rules will poison our own ethos.”

Marius sighs.  “I know.  Yet, for now, we remain vulnerable.”

“We must remain vigilant as well, and all will be well,” Emperor Prayzose says.  The other Arrows gathered nod.  “And I believe that, if it comes to that, a determined defense by us would undo them.”

“Remember too,” Lord Alyth points out, “that any damage done to our fortifications will be repaired as if the battlements were new each dawn.”  The others nod, considering.

“Well,” Dekrasode says after a moment, “I must be off.  There is work to be done.”  With a glint of teeth, he adds, “I will be moving on Khelm very soon.  Their careful neutrality in the Great War cannot be maintained.  All places must take sides.”

Prayzose nods with a sigh.  “Absolutely.  But try to be gentle.  Give them a chance, and a clear understanding of the consequences, and they may come over to us.”

Dekrasode laughs harshly.  “Oh, have no fear- I will follow all of the proper forms.”

***

_*8/18/371 O.L.G., 5 p.m., Sigil*_

The party has arrived, once again, in the City of Doors.  The strange, unnatural environment sets Sonja on edge.  There is no soil anywhere; all the building materials, a haphazard mix of wood, stone and odder stuff, have been imported from other planes.  As the group moves along the streets, heading towards the market- where they plan to sell the equipment taken from the Warlord of Orokeuse and his bodyguards.  Despite the orcs’ warning to return it and their veiled threat to make war on Malford, the party plands to head straight for the marketplace after a quick trip to the Eyebrary.  Baron Lillamere still has misgivings about selling the orcish gear, but....

“Psst!” 

A small figure, colored like the surrounding plaster, stucco and mortar, trots up beside Sybele.  It has big eyes and is small of stature.  “Hey, for a thousand gold, I can tell you something that you need to know,” it says to her.

The constrast in their stature is comical.  Sybele, after all, stands about 9’ high.  The little creature is only halflway up to her knee.  “Are you a fey?” she asks.  The figure only grins.  With a sigh, she passes over the little extortionist’s payment.

“You’re being hunted,” the creature chuckles promptly. 

“I know that,” Sybele replies, rolling her eyes.  

“Well, the hunter has a lot of eyes on you.”  He winks at her.  “We’re everywhere, you know.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, puzzled.  She scratches her head.

“Do you mean that the fey are watching her?” Baron Lillamere asks grimly.

“Some of us,” the urban faerie nods.  “A lot of us.  You know, if a leshay asks one of us for a favor, we give it some serious thought.  It’s awful nice to have a leshay owe you one, and it’s a pretty bad thing to incur their wrath.”  He winks at Sybele and grins.  The smile almost seems bigger than his face.  She grins back.

“Are _you_ watching me?” she asks.

“Nah, not personally- but there are plenty of us here that are.”  He giggles.  “Even here, we’re everywhere.”

“What kind of fey folk dwell in a place with no nature?” Gerontius snorts.

“House faeries, and fey of the forge, and so forth and so on,” the little thing pipes up indignantly in response.  “Why, there are _all sorts_ or urban fey!”

Meanwhile, Sybele muses to herself, _I think I need to provide him with a good hunt._  She projects it across the party’s telepathic link.

_Or we could just kill the leshay,_ Lester replies.  

_I think that would be harder to do than you think,_ Sybele retorts mentally.  _We would just make more enemies of the fey, and we don’t want that!  Besides, everyone at that party seemed to think this guy was a bad guy to piss off.  He’s probably pretty tough.  And... it kind of sounds like fun: I need to be an entertaining hunt, make it a lot of fun for him so he doesn’t want to end the hunt._ 

“Hmph,” snorts Alcar with a shake of his head.  

_I need to arrange to meet with him, and to run,_ Sybele explains.

*** 

At the Library of Boccob, our heroes consult with the Eye of Boccob (whom our heroes call the Eyebrarian, for in place of a head he has a single great eyeball).  He warns them, “I believe the forces of Law have chosen their new Arrow.”  He tells them that, by ancient cosmic Law, there must be a forty-nine day ritual wait (“seven times seven days”), but that once the new Arrow is appointed, the Bastion of Law will be much strengthened.  As long as the ranks of the Arrows of Law are not at their full measure of seven, the Bastion becomes vulnerable. 

“We need to get on it,” says Lillamere.  

Chakar, meanwhile, seeks information about a group of monks he has heard about called the Perfect Masters.  They are said to have transcended their mortal limitations, and learns that there is a Perfect Master named Pan Lo in Sigil somewhere. While the others make ready to hit the marketplace, he tavels through the streets until he finds an address that he was given, which proves to be a dojo.  Two young monks guard the entrance.*

“Hello, stranger,” one of them says to him.

“Hello,” Chakar says.  “I seek a master named Pan Lo.”

The two monks exchange a glance.  “Pan Lo has been here, and has taught our _sensei_ much,” one says.  “But you may only enter if you fight me.”

The battle is over in seconds.  Chakar’s mastery of martial arts is so great that the door guard never has a chance; almost casually, the dwarven monk pins him.  When he lets the man back up, he is admitted to the dojo without further ado.  Inside, he meets the dojo’s sensei, who informs him that Pan Lo is no longer there; he has come and gone.  He tells Chakar, “Perfect Master Pan Lo has moved on.”

“Do you know where he went?” Chakar asks, masking his disappointment.

“Yes.  He went to Avernus, the First Hell, to meet with an infernal monk called Master Scar.”

Chakar departs for the Eyebrary, musing over what he has learned.  _Hell is not friendly to myself or my companions,_ he thinks.  

***

Meanwhile, back at the Eyebrary, Alcar attempts a _commune._  He considers carefully, and then begins his questioning.

_Do I have the Heavens’ blessings in my quest to overthrow Bile Mountain?_ *Yes.*

His heart leaps.  An answer!  It seems that the celestial powers will give him certain answers.  Hoping, he continues:

_Do the Bile Lords have a weakness?_ 

There is no answer.  Grumbling, he ends the spell.  _Somebody’s mad at me,_ he tells himself again, glumly.

Orbius, too, does some divining.  All his attempts to ferret out information about Bile Mountain or the Bile Lords end in failure, although he does learn that Boccob is an entity that could unlock the mountain.  A few other lines of questioning are more fruitful, and his _contact other plane_ yields a few useful tidbits.

_What will it take for the halflings of Valonia to agree to temporarily relocate?_ *Lots of wine.*
_How many arrows does the leshay have left in the quiver it is using to hunt Sybele?_ *Ten.*
_Is the balance of the universe tipping in favor of Law or Chaos?_ *Law.*
_Will destroying the Bastion of Law bring it into balance or swing it towards Chaos?_ *Both.*
_Which of the Arrows are aware of our movements?_ *None.*
_Where is the true Arion?_ *Gutter.*  (This one makes Orbius laugh, as he reflects that his guess would have been a bar.)
_What are our odds of success in Bile Mountain?_ *Poor.*
_What are our chances of taking out the Bastion of Law?_ *Fair.*
_How long until the next Arrow of Law is appointed?_ *39 days.*
_When can we attack the Bastion with only evil Arrows there?_ *Unlikely.*

***

_*8/19/371 O.L.G., 9 a.m., Sigil*_

Breakfast is... interesting.  Many eyes are on our heroes; when they killed Asmodeus, they made quite a name for themselves.  Most of their conversation is telepathic.  What to do, what to do?  Chakar brings up his desire to follow Pan Lo, but the others point out that they are wanted in Hell (especially after their indiscretions with gambling and divination spells).  Reluctantly, Chakar agrees to wait to seek out the Perfect Master, at least for a time.  (Little does he know that the monks he met are already sending word of his visit to Pan Lo.)

Despite the Eye’s divinations, Lester wants to attack Bile Mountain.  Lillamere argues strongly for the Bastion of Law.  The party debates for hours before finally reaching a compromise.  They will attack Bile Mountain for two weeks before switching to an assault on the Bastion.**

“All right, then!” Inoke says happily.  _I’ll help against Bile Mountain for as long as you guys want to go against it._

_Then let’s go!_ cries the Lester telepathically.  _They don’t call me the Angel of Adventure for nothing._ 

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes begin their Revenge on Bile Mountain!

*Please imagine this scene with bad dubbing.  I made a point of describing the monks as having poorly-dubbed dialogue to the players, so it’s only fair that I clue the readers in. 

**Remember, a Cydran week is 9 days.  According to Orbius, this leaves them 20 days to deal with the Bastion.  This compromise was reached out of game after about 2 weeks of debate and planning among the players.  I was not privy to said planning and debate, and the fact that my players were so passionate about this whole thing makes me think I must be doing something right as a dm.


----------



## the Jester

When they appear near the base of the mountain, those of our heroes who have been here before- and (except Lester and Orbius) _died here_ before- shudder.  They cannot help it.  The memory of abject defeat burns within them.  They are here to take revenge for their defeat.  They have picked up Thrush to go with them; the self-proclaimed preeminent swordsman of his age is eager to regain his father’s sword.  Sybele bites her lip, thinking of the sword that Fandral the dwarven mage-smith crafted for her.  He has demanded that she regain it before seeking his aid again.  The others ponder various bits of lost gear, wounded pride.  Well, with any luck, this will begin the process of salving those wounds, recovering those losses.

The mountain is large and ominous.  When last they forayed here, they faced a worm-like crystalline creature that had a prismatic aura.  Now there are no visible external guardians.  A river runs into the gut of the mountain.  Once, it somehow turned to bile within the bowels of the place, and the River of Bile flowed from the hole out the other side of the mountain.  But in their first series of adventures here, our heroes destroyed the Crux Crystal that had powered much of the epic magic surrounding the mountain.  Now the river exits the mountain in the same form as it enters, as water. 

Silently, our heroes regard the mountain for a few moments, steeling themselves for the trials to come.

“Angelfire is probably in there somewhere,” Horbin mentions.  

Alcar is transfixed with anger for a moment at the mention of Angelfire- once a member of the party, missing since their death in Bile Mountain.  Now... now, who can say what piece of him they might find within?  Who can say what state he shall prove to be in?  Will he be a festering corpse, or some terrible undead form?

Alongside the river there is a solid path.  The party follows it into the great central cave beneath the mountain’s heart.  The cave is huge, hundreds of feet across.  Most of it is filled with a pool of water.  Once, the place had been full of bile instead.  It still brings a certain pride to those of our heroes who were here before to see it clear and clean instead.  A stairway hewn from the side of the cave leads up to the ceiling, where a hole leads up into the dungeons of the mountain.  Our heroes begin flying up parallel to the stair.  A tremor of fear runs through several of them.  

When they were here before, on their first foray into the mountain, when they destroyed the Crux Crystal they also freed the Bile Lords from a long sequestering in the mountain.  And the Bile Lords burned for vengeance on our heroes, sending minions and even one of themselves to destroy them.  Our heroes returned to Bile Mountain to finish what they had begun and destroy the Bile Lords. 

But things had been more complicated than our heroes could have imagined.  When they had destroyed the Crux Crystal, they had uncovered a portal that the Crystal had grown around, much as a pearl will grow around a grain of sand.  This portal led to a terrible realm that was the dominion of the horrific Bile King, whom the Bile Lords were ruled by.  But the Bile King was uninterested in our heroes; he only cared about finding a suitable wife.  In a murderous courtship he and the Queen of Guts came together in unholy union.  

Our heroes, meanwhile, fought their way up through the remaining minions that they had not decimated before.  When they found the chamber the Crux Crystal had been in, they discovered the portal.  And then, in the crucial moment, Angelfire went through the portal.  Horbin followed him in the desperate hope of stopping him from doing anything stupid, and they found themselves in a terrible combat.  Meanwhile, the others rushed to a nearby bile pool (the portal key was apparently bile) and aroused a hideous, multiheaded corrupted bile chuul.  The monstrosity belched an explosion of bile that slew most of the party in a single agonizing moment.  By the time Horbin and Angelfire returned through the portal, all of their companions were dead.  They managed to defeat the chuul, but then an assault came from the portal- in the form of Bile Lords and the Queen’s gutling giant servants- and despite their power, they could not fend the assault off.  It overwhelmed them.  Horbin was killed; Angelfire was charmed, taken alive and slain by the Queen of Guts- and thus the entire party had been destroyed.  That would have been the end, had it not been for Ten Buck Tom’s possession of an _elixir of true resurrection_ that permitted Horbin to return from the dead, and he then made a deal with the Delphinate to get the necessary amount of diamond dust to bring the others back to life.  The entire group had been thoroughly humbled.  Angelfire, notably, had not returned; Horbin grimly suspected that he had been turned undead. 

The party had turned away from thoughts of Bile Mountain for a time, humbled by their defeat.  They had turned to other things- things even bigger, really.  But for a time, they had not felt ready to face Bile Mountain again.

Now- now, at last, they are ready.

At the top of the stairway is a chamber with several exits.  When the party enters, they find themselves immediately attacked by a quartet of strange, cockroach-like creatures.  These monsters spit goo, hoping to entangle our heroes, but almost everyone wears a _ring of freedom of movement_ or is otherwise affected by the spell.  The goo fails to have much effect on the group, though Horbin does have a few dodgy moments for a while.  But that is not the only attack that the bugs have.  Their mere touch drains life energy and strength.  Our heroes begin to flag, while Alcar and Horbin make the occasional counter with _restoration_ magic.    

Our heroes reply to the foul roach-like things with a terrific array of _flame strikes, horrid wiltings, disintegrates_ (including one that Lillamere maximizes) and old-fashioned ass-kicking.  Gerontius tumbles past the bugs into a hallway, looking for a good flanking position- and to his surprise he is almost immediately beset by a hideous gorgon sweating bile out of its pores!  The beast bellows and breathes out a billowing mass of foul-colored vapors.  The halfling throws himself flat, dodging the effect, but Sybele turns, saying, “What’s that...?”  She gasps, inhaling a massive dose of the petrifying gas, and says no more as she turns to stone.

“Sybele!” Thrush cries. 

Horbin turns to the gorgon.  He utters a prayer to Dexter and pronounces a _destruction_ upon the monster.  It dies in a burst of golden-red flame, crumbling to the ground as ashes!

The tide of battle has turned for our heroes.  The roach-things, though tough, are withering under the party’s collective attacks.  A few moments later and they are done for.  Our heroes, however, are somewhat shaken.  “Those things were tough!” declares Horbin.  

“And they’re just the door guards,” points out Sybele.

“I believe they are called thorciasids,” Orbius says sagely.  “They are energy scavengers.”

_Well, folks, we’re in the foyer,_ Lester things over the telepathic link.  _Shall we go on in?_

_If Alcar and Horbin can restore everyone to their normal state,_ Chakar qualifies.*

_No problem,_ Alcar assures him.  He and Horbin begin tending to the needs of their companions, their prayers channeling holy power that floods into the weakened and slowed muscles of the rest of the party.  In a few moments, everyone is at least mostly _restored._  Meanwhile, Baron Lillamere has already sent out _prying eyes_ to explore the surrounding area.  He informs the others telepathically, over the link, as the eyes begin to spread out through the passages of the mountain.

“Then let’s get to it,” Thrush says with grim pleasure.  And he draws his sword.  

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes begin to move deeper into Bile Mountain!  Lillamere’s eyes see eyes floating around!  And our heroes discover a new type of ooze!

*Thorciasids do ability drain to _three_ attributes, up to 2/round!  Ouch!


----------



## Bryon_Soulweaver

What are there levels at this pont and currently?


----------



## the Jester

At this point in the story, the party's levels are:

*Gerontius*- male air halfling rogue 16/invisible blade 5/fighter 4/halfling paragon 1
*Sybele*- female human fighter 8/psion 15/warrior of chaos 4
*Sonja*- male human druid 18
*Inoke*- male human ex-barbarian 2/psychic warrior 2/fighter 8/warmind 14
*Lester*- male half-elf elementalist 14/warrior of chaos 4/divine oracle 2/contemplative 2/paraelementalist 1/heirophant 1/aestherite 1
*Lillamere*- male elf sorcerer 20/argent savant 5
*Alcar*- male half-celestial wood elf fighter 2/cleric 17
*Chakar*- male dwarf monk 21
*Horbin*- male human cleric 26

As for where they're at now- well, let's just say that the party has gained a few levels, collectively speaking, since then.


----------



## the Jester

The entry chamber has two doors and a hallway that lead out of it.  Inoke kicks a crushed thorciasid corpse out of the way and opens one of the doors.  Behind it is another passage.  Meanwhile, Orbius casts a mass bestowed _mirror image_ that affects the entire party.  Simultaneously, some of Baron Lillamere’s _prying eyes_ return to him and he reports that the hallway turns after some distance.  “There’s also a door.  I’m going to send some eyes down under it and see what’s beyond it.”

“No reason to wait,” reasons Sybele.  “Let’s keep exploring!”

“Yeah, but let’s make sure we don’t leave any enemies behind us,” Thrush cautions.  “The last thing we need is to end up trapped in here again.”  He shudders.  “I already lost a decade to this damn place!”*

The party moves down the passage beyond the door that Inoke has opened.  Even as they do so, another set of Lillamere’s _prying eyes_ return to him.  “Up ahead we’ve got some kind of fungus-filled chamber,” he warns.  Indeed, on the right, an opening grants access to another room, one largely filled with a riot of fungal matter.

“Didn’t we see this when we were here before?” muses Alcar.

“Yes,” Orbius replies.  “We burned much of it away, but... obviously new things have grown.”

“Burnt fungus is a good growth medium for more fungus,” nods Sonja.

The party discusses simply walking across the room, but they are wary of fungal material.  It takes a pair of _fire storms_ to eradicate the fungi, and then the party moves safely across to the other side of the chamber, where a stone arch allows egress to another room.  “It’s full of fungus, too,” Inoke announces as he reaches it.  

“Well,” Alcar says, “we could- WATCH OUT!!”

Among the fungi in the next room, a pair of particularly large, foul growths are starting to writhe and move.  Before they can attack, Alcar blasts them with a pair of _flame strikes,_ one of them quickened.  The outer coating of the three apparent “fungi” are blasted and burned away- revealing strange stalagmite-like creatures with hungry maws and long flailing strands beneath a thick coat of now-burnt fungal growths!  The monsters each have a single huge yellowed eye and a gaping, sharp-toothed maw.  They shiver with rage.  They are covered in burns, and they seep bile.

_Bile ropers!_ cries Lester over the party’s telepathic link.  _Help, get up here!_ he urges the rest of the group.  Then, using a _metamagic rod of electrical substitution_, Lester fires an _electric strike_ at the monsters, and it hurts them;  and, wary of the strands of the ropers, he follows it with a quickened _freedom of movement_.

Then two of the ropers attack, knocking out most of Lester’s _mirror images_ in an instant.  The third one breathes out a gob of bile that explode alls around the party.  Disgusting yellowish fluid, thick with froth and unidentifiable chunks, splatters the front ranks.

After a stunned second, they erupt in cheers.  “It worked!” cries Orbius.  “My _bile shield_ worked!!”

Indeed- for among his tactics in approaching Bile Mountain again, Orbius spent some time researching a spell specifically to guard against this very thing.  He cast it on the party as they prepared their approach to Bile Mountain.  But this- this is its first real test.  And it worked!**

Surmising that the others have the situation firmly in hand, Orbius (slightly jealous over Lillamere’s _prying eyes_) casts an _arcane eye_ and sends it out to scout ahead as _fireballs_ burst in the background.

Meanwhile, Chakar uses his _abundant step_ ability to move in on the two remaining ropers, hitting one of them with the Weakening Touch technique.  It dies under an onslaught of Sybele’s large arrows.  Then another _fireball_ from Lester- and the final bile roper is dead. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Inoke blusters.  

Thrush frowns at him.  “Don’t worry, there will be worse.”

***

“Okay, further ahead we have some kind of golem and a big nasty pool of bile, in which there is no doubt a monster.  There are stairs leading up out of there.”

“Closer to the Bile Lords,” Horbin murmurs. 

“I’ll send some eyes up there.  Back and continuing down the corridor we followed from the entry room with the thorciasids, there are a bunch of empty rooms.  There is some kind of meeting hall or something, though.”  Lillamere pauses.  “If we go back to the original entryway, we can also go into a room with no obvious exits or down the hallway I mentioned earlier that ends in a door.”  He frowns, looking somewhat disturbed.  “The eyes saw- there was some kind of, of thing down there.  I think it’s sending out extremely tiny eyes.”  He shakes his head.  “It’s like they dissolved out of its body.  I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Fascinating,” Orbius murmurs; his _arcane eye_ is headed that way!

“Also, it seems to have some mithral golems with it.” 

Gerontius exclaims in dismay.  “I hate golems!”

“Let’s take care of the clay golem first,” suggests Chakar.  

And so the party walks down the passage through a chamber full of what appears to be the rubble of several destroyed golems in elephantine shape.  “Loxo,” Orbius declares.  “Some kind of dire loxo once dwelled on the lower levels of this mountain.  We found ample evidence for them when we were here before.”

They proceed on through the room and into another hallway, following Lillamere’s sure steps.  Another 30’ and they enter a giant chamber lined with massive columns supporting a high ceiling 20’ overhead.  A large clay statue carved in the likeness of a warrior stands in the chamber.  The party expects it to be some terribly powerful thing, but it turns out to be just a regular old clay golem, and it is destroyed in but a moment. 

“There’s also some kind of weird ooze,” Baron Lillamere reports, as more eyes return to share what they’ve seen.  “It looks almost like it’s made of bile.”

“That can’t be good,” Sybele pipes up.  “Oozes are bad news.”

_Hey, are we adventurers or what?_ Lester calls over the link.  _Let’s adventure!_

_All right,_ replies Chakar telepathically, _but where to?_

The party discusses the question for a few short moments, and then they decide: to the big pool of bile.  They march back to the room with the ruined golems, then follow one of the other passages.  Along the way they open a side door and see a great hole smashed out from the ground, through the remains of a privy.  Down below is the skeleton of Yungo, the otyugh barbarian our heroes fought here on their first foray into this accursed mountain.

Leaving Yungo’s body unmolested, the party continues towards the pool of bile.  The passage soon enough opens into a room about 40’ on a side.  It seems as though the stone of the mountain has somehow _settled_ in one direction, for somewhat over half the chamber is slicked over by a great pool of bile.

“Watch out for chuuls,” warns Alcar.  A chuul killed him when he was here before- albeit near the very top of the mountain, much higher into the dungeons of the Bile Lords.

As the party moves towards the pool, Orbius cries, “There _is_ something in there!  See, a form arises!”  And a gigantic, hideous monster- combining the worst features of hound and lizard- draws itself up from its disgusting pool, rivulets of yellow and dark brown fluid pouring from it.  

And it barfs out a cone of acid.***

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes fight a nasty bile beast!  Plus: more on that ‘pillar of flesh’ thingie that’s sending out eyeballs!  Oh, and who wants to see the ooze in action??


*The party originally met Thrush when he was serving the Bile Lords after being trapped in the uppermost level of Bile Mountain for years.

**Heh heh heh... no one suffered any con damage or acid damage from the breath weapon, anyway.

***106 points of acid damage.


----------



## the Jester

Gerontius flips his slim body through the air wildly, whipping back and forth to avoid the gouts of vile yellow acid spewing from the bile beast.  The disgusting fluid- mixed with foul chunks of unidentifiable matter- splashes all around him, but he avoids all of it!  The halfling’s daggers slash and stab at the monster’s vitals as he misdirects it again and again, catching it off guard with feint after feint.  Blood, steaming and stinking of filth, fountains all over the invisible blade.  He darts one way and then another, the wounds pumping massive amounts of blood and dealing terrific lingering damage.*  As Thrush lumbers in with a yell, hacking at the monster, Gerontius takes yet another opportunistic strike.

The monster doesn’t even slow down.  Nor does it flinch when Lester’s _flame strike_ roars down on it with scorching power.  Clearly enraged, the monster screams and turns on Gerontius.  Arrows and _seeker missiles_ begins pelting the monster, but it is fast and tough enough to avoid the majority of the missiles.  Only one of the _seeker missiles_ hits its target.  Zyltha’s voice starts to ring out over the battle, heartening our heroes and reminding Horbin of Ten Buck Tom, waiting in Var.  _And he’s got another _elixir of true resurrection,_ just in case,_ the cleric- now Bishop Horbin of Western Dorhaus- thinks to himself, flashing momentarily back to the party’s last trip into Bile Mountain- the trip that killed them all.  Then he casts _destruction,_ which the horrid beast resists.  Still, he can see that it is damaged by the spell, and he smiles grimly to himself.  _Surely it can’t take that much more of this,_ he thinks. 

But again the bile beast rushes uncaringly towards Gerontius, clawing and biting at him.  Both Thrush and Lester slice at it with their swords as it moves past them, but it doesn’t seem to care.  Gerontius is still protected by _mirror images,_ but three of them fall in a single flurry of attacks.  The halfling squeaks as both of its claws come a hair’s breadth from the real him.

Our heroes pour it on.  Gerontius keeps feinting, tricking it again and again and leaving it pricked in all its tender places.**  Wankerman leaps in, using the Bullywug Breakdance technique, and sticks his spear deep into the creature’s neck.  Blood fountains out and sprays steaming all over him.  Thrush and Lester, flanking, hack and cut their way into the creature.  More blood sprays all over the place as it shakes itself and roars in anger and rage.  It still won’t die!  Our heroes continue to pound it as it rips and tears at them, dealing wound after wound; and then, finally, Lester stabs his sword in through its eye and penetrates its brain, killing the monster at last!  Our heroes draw back as the light in its eyes slowly dies.  The monster gurgles and blood and bile vomit from it, and then then a terrible stink (worse than that pervading the room itself) wafts over the chamber as the beast fouls itself.  It is over.  The thing is finally dead.

“Dexter’s nadlies, but that took a lot of punishment,” Horbin swears, gasping for breath. 

Alcar nods.  “That was... impressive.”  He turns and tells Lester, “You should think about joining my summer league team.”

Our heroes examine the chamber quickly.  The main features of the area are the pool that the bile beast lived in- a stinking deep depression filled with bile- and a staircase leading up higher into the mountain, closer to its blighted heart.  The group debates, both aloud and over their _telepathic bond,_ whether to ascend immediately or finish searching the lowest level of the mountain.  Lester, naturally enough, is a proponent of rushing straight to the top.  Thrush and Horbin disagree, Thrush especially arguing that the party should clear out everything on a level before moving on.  “We don’t want to get trapped in here,” he reiterates again and again.  “If we leave something behind us, it might well try to cut off our retreat.”

“We can take care of anything that tries,” Lester insists.

“What if we’re already wounded, and it’s the Bile King and Queen of Guts?  We don’t want to get trapped in here.  I’ve been through that before.  I _won’t_ go through it again.”

“Enemies behind you are worse than enemies before you,” nods Chakar.

“What about our old friend, the priestess- or priest, depending on the week- of the goddess of time and stuff?” wonders Sybele.  “He got left behind in there!”

“She’s probably been turned undead or something by the Bile Lords,” Lester opines.

“I hope so,” Alcar says, “because I want to kick her ass.  She is _not_ on my summer league team.”

“Who are you talking about?” Sonja asks.

Sybele (who is unable to remember names thanks to the touch of Chaos) is referring to Angelfire.  Angelfire was a member of the party for years, journeying with Sybele since way back at Firestorm Peak.  Angel (her original name) changed gender about 3 times during her career (spending most of that time female).  “She was a priestess of Coila, and a psychic warrior, and a templar of her goddess,” Lester explains.  “She was pretty powerful...”

“But pretty evil,” Bishop Horbin adds.  “If she _is_ undead, she’ll be tough.”

The discussion moves on, and eventually everyone agrees to clear out the mountain right- to take care of each level entirely before moving to the next.  That decided, they turn to the question of what to do next.

_I say we go take down the mithral golems,_ Lester proposes.  _They’ve got to be worth a ton of money if we can sell the metal in Sigil or something._

_Good point,_ Inoke agrees. 

“Argh!” Horbin exclaims.  “I just realized that, among the many items I lost in here was a _golembane scarab_ that I bought after the first time we encountered golems in this damned mountain!”

“Maybe we’ll find it again,” Chakar replies, clapping the cleric on the shoulder.

“I hope so,” Horbin grumbles.

“So should we go after the golems then?” Sybele pipes up.  “And didn’t you say there’s something else in there too, some kind of eyeball thing?”

“I’m looking at it right now, through my _arcane eye_,” Orbius affirms.  “It’s a weird pillar of flesh.  It’s almost like the eyes are melting out of it and floating off.  And there are more that are returning.”  He frowns.  “I wonder what it is.  Obviously some kind of watcher, but...”  He trails off, frowning to himself.  

_Sounds good!_ Lester enthuses.  The party heads back to the entry room and then down a hall.  After about 40’ or so, it turns sharply to the right.  To the left is the door that, according to their divinations, leads to the weird pillar of flesh.  Before the party opens the door, the L casts _pass through earth and stone_ and slips under the ground, into the contaminated rock of the mountain.  Even the _bile shield_ doesn’t stop a sick, greasy feeling from settling on his body.  He moves forward through the stone for a ways, and then moves up to emerge in a room beyond- the chamber with the fleshy pillar in it!

Immediately he casts a _flesh to stone_ on it, and to his amazement, it turns into craggy rock!  Then the three great mithral golems fall on him, their great fists pummeling.  “Yelp!  A little help!”  Lester calls out.  The others, meanwhile, throw open the door, and the combat is joined from the other side.  It is brief and vicious, and when it is done the golems lie strewn in pieces on the ground.

“Let’s take some now,” urges Gerontius.  “It might not be here when we return for it!”  The party opens up their _bags of holding,_ but unfortunately they discover that they cannot reach into them.  The opening is an opaque, seemingly impenetrable grey field.  They still manage to haul some of the mithral, but they are all too aware that they will need a better way to carry most of it out. 

“What about the creature?” asks Horbin.

“I can destroy it,” offers Chakar.

_No!  I should put it in the abandoned water temple dungeon at the Temple of Elemental Good,_ Lester declares over the permanent telepathic link the party shares.  _I’ll put it with the gibbering garden._ 

The party agrees amusedly to Lester’s suggestion, then decides to go hunting the ooze Lillamere’s _prying eyes_ saw earlier.  “We should be careful,” warns Thrush, “in case its touch can destroy our weapons.”  There is a general grumble of agreement.  If only they knew just how bad it could be for their weapons...

When they arrive at the door to the chamber the ooze is alleged to be in, the party pauses for a moment to prepare.  Or at least, most of them do.  Alcar boldly opens the door and moves through, and Chakar grunts a curse and follows the impetuous angel.  They find that about two-thirds of the walls have great areas dissolved away.  Not too far away is a disgusting sac of bile- a bile ooze.

Immediately it sprays out a huge cone of caustic acid, catching Alcar in a foul spew as he moves towards it.  The Angel of Food’s eyes widen and he cries out in dismay as the caustic fluid begins smoking.  His eyes widen in shock.

His armor is dissolving and falling to pieces.

_*Next Time:*_ The bile ooze!


*Which is to say, one of Gerontius’ epic feats is Lingering Damage. 

**Gerontius did about 350 hp of damage this round, according to the game notes.  When the creature was still standing afterwards, the players were a little surprised.  They had already inflicted a lot of damage on it the round before- prolly about 300-400 hp as well.  I’m not certain, but I believe this monster was the first 1000+ hp enemy the party has faced.


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## the Jester

...just thought that I would point out that I am substantially editing some of these posts, mostly to clean them up, but in some cases I am adding a significant amount of new material (such as the Bishops Electors' debate over confirming Horbin).


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## Bryon_Soulweaver

So~, when do they start fighting deities?


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## the Jester

Bryon_Soulweaver said:
			
		

> So~, when do they start fighting deities?




Depends- did Asmodeus count?


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## Bryon_Soulweaver

Kinda.


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## the Jester

Alcar shouts in anger.  “My armor!” he cries.  With a growl of rage, he calls out a blast of holy flames that strike down in a great column, striking the bile ooze with blistering force.  The stench of burning bile wafts out over the party, making their gorges threaten to rise.  

In response, yellow-brown pseudopoda lash out with startling swiftness, pummeling Alcar with great force.  Acidic fluid sizzles and dribbles from it where it strikes his flesh, but the _bile shield_ that Orbius created seems to protect Alcar from its secretions.  The Angel of Food lashes out angrily with another _flame strike,_ and chunks of ooze blast away, sizzling like rancid bits of fat cooking in the sacred fire.

Meanwhile, as Sybele realizes what has happened to Alcar’s armor, she shouts a warning to her friends.  “Watch out, it’ll eat your armor!”  She begins unbuckling straps and opening laces, trying to take her own armor off.  Gerontius, scowling fiercely- after all, he can’t sneak attack an ooze (though he once almost chose to read a book that would allow him to do so)- leaps to aid her, trying to help her shed her metal so that she can join the fight against the ooze.  A classic momentary mix-up happens, too, as Orbius casts _far strike_ on one of Inoke’s weapons- only to have him attack the ooze with a different one, to everyone’s disgruntlement!  Realizing what Orbius did for him, he utters a curse and changes weapons.  Unfortunately, while he does so, the ooze is landing blow after sizzling blow on Alcar!  The angel winces and cries out, but he does not back off.  Instead, he stands his ground and pulls forth his adamantine mace.  If he has anything that will survive striking the ooze, this is it!  And indeed, as he begins pounding away on it, he starts to grin.  The mace is nearly unaffected by the ooze’s caustic fluids, and he begins to press it.  Then Inoke’s blows are landing on it from afar, and the ooze begins to quiver as it is pressed to the breaking point.  A _fire storm_ from Lester and a _sphere of ultimate destruction_ from Orbius leave it badly weakened, and a final series of blows from Inoke finishes the thing off. 

Alcar groans and steps back, wounded worse than he has been in a long time.  Horbin and he quickly spend a few powerful healing prayers on him, and then he is as good as new.  “Whew!” he declares.  “That thing was _tough!_”

“That’s what you get for going through doors before the rest of us are really ready,” Horbin snaps.  “And now you don’t even have any armor!”

“Pull out the _portable store,_” suggests Chakar.  “Perhaps he could purchase something.”

“That’s a good idea!” exclaims Alcar.

“Except that it probably won’t work inside the mountain,” Wankerman points out.  

“Good point,” says Horbin.  “But we can at least try.”  He pulls the _portable store_ out of his backpack and attempts to open it, but to his chagrin it will not expand to its full size.  It remains simply a small frame.

After a short debate, the party determines that it is time to exit the mountain, at least long enough for Alcar to get new armor.  He has a spare suit, for that matter; but it is in an extradimensional space (his _portable hole_), and cannot be accessed within the mountain.  While they’re at it, they decide to haul all the mithral they can outside and take it to Sigil for sale.  After this haul- they should be rich!

And things, for once, seem to go mostly according to plan.  They are not ambushed or assailed as they leave the mountain.  They bring a great amount of mithral with them.  They reach Sigil without a single sign of trouble.  It’s almost enough to let them relax.  They spend a few days in the City of Doors, selling and buying.  Orbius bestows _contingencies_ on the party members who have the requisite focus (an expensive statuette), which is most of them.  He goes further and also bestows both _greater contingencies_ and _chain contingencies_ on them as well.  

The party briefly debates whether or not to sell the gear from the Warlord of Valonia and his guards.  But once they get an offer on it, the discussion is thrown out the window.  The amount is staggering.  With only the tiniest of dissenting voices they sell all the stuff and soon they are rolling in the money.

“Yeah, man, this is what it’s all about!” Lester enthuses.

“But we are not done with zem, I bet you,” Gerontius laments.  “We must still deal with zee threat to my people in the Glen Lands.”

“We can take them,” Inoke nods.  “But we shouldn’t just kill them.  A lot of them are Galadorian.”  He looks pointedly at Alcar.

“They are not Galadorian; it is a false front!” the angel declares.

“What about the dwarves?” Horbin interjects.  Alcar has no answer.

Then it’s time to go back.

***

_*Somewhere in Bile Mountain*_

Tamult the Bile Lord gazes fondly at his artwork.  Tormented and mutated by his foul powers, a dwarf, a human and a halfling gaze back at him from the confines of their cage of force.  The Bile Lord rubs his hands together with glee.  “You will do nicely,” he cackles.  The stench around him is visible as a dirty yellow cloud.  His foul visage is marked with a permanent angry look.  The wrinkles of eons of age carve great valleys through the plains of his face.  His eyes are like dark red craters with hateful orange craters in the center.

_They are coming,_ he thinks to himself, _coming back to try to finish us off._  The attacks on the lower levels have not gone unnoticed.  Tamult himself would be unlikely to be here had the King of Bile not foreseen the return of the adventurers.  _They think that they can take us again.  They have not learned that we will be returned from the sea of death to serve our King further._ 

The two heads of the halfling girl start singing in unison, trying to anger him, but Tamult smiles and speaks to them.  “You will do as I command,” he sneers.  “When the adventurers come, I will release you from your cages and you will kill them!”

Balkord the Bold belches up a mouthful of bile and spits it out.  Much spills in his matted, filthy beard.

“If you succeed, I shall reward you.  Fail me, and death will be your reward!”

Melgin Lostway glares at Tamult.  “Let us go!” he wails.

“Do as I command, or I will punish you,” Tamult snarls, and Melgin quails and clutches his unholy symbol.  “You will fight, by your most effective means, to destroy my enemies.  And looking at you, they will fight to destroy you, so do not think to betray me to them.  They would kill you all without a second thought, especially as you are evildoers.

The halfling snarls angrily, almost like an animal.  The sound of both heads doing so at once would be unsettling to most creatures. Tamult only smiles.  “Fight well for me, and _die_ for me, and it is quite possible that you will be returned from the grave to fight for me again.”

Melgin sighs.  “We have no choice,” he states heavily.  “What you say is true.  If we try to turn on you, the adventurers will destroy us all.”

“We cannot defeat the Bile Lord alone,” the dwarf grunts suddenly.

“And, since we cannot turn on him...”

The two-headed halfling’s growls turn to a sudden symphony of whines.

“...we must obey him,” finishes Melgin.

“We will be ready,” the dwarf tells Tamult.  “I only want to kill you the most.  I want to kill anything else too.”  He laughs harshly, a sound like a barking dog.

***

_*8/25/371 O.L.G., 11 a.m., ascending the stairs into Bile Mountain*_

_...so you see, if we are in here, the forces of Law will think that this is where we’re focused, and they won’t expect an imminent attack on the big fortress place,_ Sybele concludes telepathically.  Even as she jabbers at the others, they are heading up into the mountain.  Alcar’s new full plate clanks as he flies up the stairs.  

“I think you’ve got a good point,” mutters Gerontius.  “We do not want zem to be prepared for us, eh?”

“All right, what’s next?” Baron Lillamere asks as the party enters the entry room.  He switches to telepathy as well.  _I saw a chamber with some kind of old cobwebby stuff hanging from the ceiling down past the elbow where we found the hall to the ooze and the fleshy pillar...

Which,_ Lester interjects, _is now in the Water Temple._

Baron Lillamere sighs and goes on.  “There are also,” switching back to the _telepathic bond_, _a few other rooms we haven’t searched yet.  There’s one with the carcasses of some big beetles in it, for instance._

“I remember those!” Thrush says fiercely.  “They cut my limbs off last time!”  

“Ooh, that’s right,” Sybele nods.  

Sonjia shrugs.  “Let’s start with the first thing.  The webs.”

Horbin nods.  “One bad place is as good as the next, I suppose.”

***

The chamber has scraps of dark, dirty-looking webs dangling limply from the roof.  The walls have the etched, uneven look of the chamber the ooze was in.  As Inoke begins poking around cautiously and the others follow him in, great figures spring out of the shadows.  They are hard to see; the shadows seem to dance and flicker all over their massive forms.  But they resemble nothing so much as huge spiders!

Immediately, however, they demonstrate a disturbing level of intelligence and purpose.  

Inoke reacts quickly, growing in size and turning his very body to iron.  But the shadowy spiders move to flank him and immediately demonstrate an unnerving knowledge of anatomy.  Only his metal form prevents him from suffering grievous wounds!  

The rest of the party rushes to Inoke’s aid.  Thrush, moving quick as always, leaps forward and deals a series of mighty blows to one of the spiders.  Gerontius tumbles forward and begins thrusting and cutting with his daggers.  Wankerman runs the spider that Thrush is fighting through, killing it, and the two of them exchange a quick grin before turning on the remaining monsters.  One of the spiders shoots a slick of silk at Inoke’s feet, and he almost falls on his ass.  That spider quickly fades into the shadows, hiding in plain view!  The others keep attacking him from the flanks, but though they can bite him- and he feels the injuries- their skill does them little good.  Nor does he feel poison in this form.  His iron lips curl in a smile.  

Then his body erupts in changes as he assumes a _form of doom_.  Inoke grows fearsome as multiple tentacles rip from his back, flailing at the spider before him, and his face deforms hideously.  Frightful laughter growls forth from his throat.  

“There it is!” Sybele cries, and begins shooting her arrows into the darkness in one corner of the room.  Our heroes can hear the squealing of the hiding spider and the fleshy _thunk_ of arrows striking home one after another.  In another moment the spider springs forth, but its attack is met by a tremendous swing from Thrush.  He skewers it, and it collapses onto the ground, slain.  It lies on its back, its legs curling inward, pale grey venom dripping from its fangs.

Sonja, hanging back, _wild shapes_ into a bird and begins shooting out flaming spells.  The druid briefly debates whether to hit the spiders with a _reverse gravity_, but shakes his head.  Better not to risk catching his allies in the area of effect.  Besides, they seem to have it well in hand.  Indeed, Dorn Wankerman and Gerontius soon strike the final blows, and it’s all over.  Shadowy ichor coats hands and weapons; gore has spilled all over the chamber.  But the spiders have been defeated.

“Shadow spiders,” Orbius remarks, cocking an eyebrow.  “From the shadow plane.”

“What are they doing here?” wonders Wankerman with a frown.

“We encountered shadow creatures here before,” muses Horbin.  “Both the beetles and a shadow cloaker.”

_I guess it’s a mystery for another day,_ Lester tells them telepathically.  _For now, let’s search!_

A mystery for another day?  Not really, as it turns out.

_*Next Time:*_  More creatures of shadow!  Where are they coming from, and what does the answer mean?


----------



## the Jester

There is a lot of area that our heroes have not yet searched through on this level of the dungeon.  Thus, they begin a methodical check of the entire area, looking for treasure, secret doors or lost opportunities.  Before too long, they have uncovered a sloping pit full of debris, tattered webs and old bodies sucked dry of their fluids.  There are a number of intact magical items to be found there, including what appears to be a _bag of holding_ (which our heroes cannot access within the confines of Bile Mountain), a magic shield and sword and a few potions.  

It is as they search the chamber that still holds the carcasses of the shadow beetles that they defeated here long ago that they are attack from out of thin air.  

There is nothing there one moment; the next, four mighty-looking, breastplate-wearing, sword-wielding trolls with dark grey-green skin and blurred, shadowy outlines rush in amongst our heroes!  They lay about them violently, and one of the trolls knocks Alcar from his feet.  With a grunt, the angel shakes his head to regain his wits.

Thrush cries out, “Trolls!”  His sword seems almost to appear in his hand from nowhere.  He hacks violently out and hews one of the trolls across the arm.  His blade slices deep into the creature’s flesh.  It growls and snarls, moving with the fluid grace of experienced fighters.  It’s hard for our heroes to make out exactly where the trolls are, with their blurring, shifting outlines.  The trolls, on the other hand, have no problem hacking into our heroes.  Moreover, the trolls have formidable regenerative abilities, and their wounds start to close almost as soon as they open.

This does not deter our heroes.  Sonja assumes fire elemental form and rushes forward like an out-of-control blaze driven by a gale wind.  Her flaming limbs scorch her target’s face and chest and it roars in anger and pain.  This damage does not seem to regenerate.

“Where did they come from?” cries Orbius.  “They weren’t here a moment ago- I can see the invisible!  And one cannot _teleport_ within Bile Mountain!”

The question must be put aside for the moment, for the warrior trolls are pressing their attack.  But this lasts for a few brief seconds only.  No matter how skilled they are, the trolls are no match for our heroes; and, between the skill of Thrush, Horbin and Wankerman, Gerontius’ lingering damage, a final _fire storm_ from Sonja , _harm_ from Bishop Horbin and _holy smite_ from Alcar, the trolls fall in mere moments.  After taking a minute to catch their breath and tend to their wounds, the group decides to find the answer to Orbius’ question.  Where _did_ the trolls come from?  Soon, investigating with their combined skills, magic and psionics, they discern a natural planar portal in the room.

“So,” Orbius muses, “you can’t teleport around in here, but there _are_ loopholes.”

“At least this one,” nods Baron Lillamere.

“There’s also the one up above, at the top of the mountain,” Horbin points out.  “The one Angelfire went through.”  The others nod.

“Do you think we can teleport within one of the levels of the mountain?” Inoke wonders.  “For instance, just within the room?”

“Let’s try it,” suggests Orbius, and _dimension doors_ a few feet successfully.  He nods thoughtfully.  “That seems to suggest that we can,” he says.

“Where do you think the portal goes?” asks Sybele.

“It doesn’t matter,” Inoke states firmly.  He pulls on his _gloves of seal portal._  “Wherever it goes, it can’t be good to leave it open.  Either the Bile Lords are getting aid from beyond it, or they’re causing harm.”  His gloves begin to glow a brilliant blue color as he touches the portal.  There is a momentary flash of sapphire brilliance.  Grimly, Inoke steps away.  “I’ve sealed it,” he announces.

For good measure, the group seals it off with a _wall of stone,_ making the area of the portal very difficult to reach.  As they leave the chamber, Horbin mutters, “We should all carry a vial of bile, too.  Just in case.”

“Oh yeah,” mutters Sybele, and shudders.  She remembers, from the party’s second foray into the mountain- the portal at the top.  _The cleric guy and the fire time templar* went in, and the rest of us got killed,_ she thinks grimly.  _And then they did too._

***

_*Hell*_

Slowly the line moves forward.  More and more devils are queuing up to swear fealty to Lucifer.  By now only a heroic effort from a combination of the major powers could stop him from his victory, though there are few- if any- that realize just how inevitable it is, as yet.  At the head of the line is the Throne of Hell, a ruddy red in color and glowing red-hot.  Sulphuric smoke pours off of it, congealing on the ceiling and dripping down in sizzling blobs.  A choir of wailing souls, their sounds directed by their torturers’ skill in eliciting different screams and cries, is to the throne’s right; to the left are those who worked secretly for Lucifer all these last epochs of time, when Asmodeus reigned and to be known as an agent of the One Who Came Before was to risk far worse than simple death.  There are even some of those- some who were to be tormented for all time, on the very edge of death, but never to die- who are free now.  Terribly scarred both physically and mentally, these courageous devils live to serve Lucifer- and now that he is in charge, they are able to do so again.  Though broken in body or mind or both, they all have their uses- and he will honor them all for their sacrifice to him.  

Seated on the smoking throne, Lucifer takes the obeisances of those approaching him as his due.  There are few who he will not accept, and forgive any transgressions; but he _never_ forgets.  Though they might be forgiven, the transgressions of the past affect the devils’ hopes for advancement in the future.  One that is known as a traitor will never be trusted.  One that simply chose the wrong side, on the other hand, might be able to rise higher if they behave appropriately once on the _correct_ side.  

_But some,_ thought Lucifer, _can _never_ be trusted._

Before him came an ancient pit fiend named Velzhethgaunt, shifty-eyed and with tail twitching.  Velzhethgaunt, millennia ago, helped Asmodeus’ revolution against Lucifer, opening a key gate in the palace of the Tenth Hell and allowing ingress to a major element of the cunning feint that undid Lucifer. 

“My ancient and powerful lord,” Velzhethgaunt whined, “I come before you to pledge myself to you.  I offer you my allegiance, and will swear to uphold you and destroy your enemies.”

There was a brief silence.  It stretched for a moment, then to thirty seconds, then a minute.  Velzhethgaunt coughed and shifted; his tail lashed nervously behind him.

Just as the pit fiend opened his mouth to speak, Lucifer said, “That is all, Velzhethgaunt?  No apology for the crimes of the past?  No begging for mercy after your betrayal?”

“My lord, I... that is, it has been so long... I...”

“I think not.  Even if you begged.  Even if you swore to me on your true name.”  Lucifer’s eyes flashed cold.  

Two of his favored guards seized the pit fiend by his arms.  Velzhethgaunt did not even struggle.  He quailed.

“No...”

“You,” the Lord of Hell spat, “shall be annihilated.”

There was a blinding flash of crimson.  A roar of static, and hidden in it something like a scream.  For an instant, Velzhethgaunt writhed in agony.  Lucifer proclaimed, “I am not the fool of my pupil, Asmodeus.  I shall not leave a single enemy alive.  I destroy you now; I snuff the flame of your existence for all time.  

“But though you will die now, your mind shall feel the fires of your torment for a thousand years in this short time.  And you shall know it, and know helpless agony for a thousand years; and then you will be snuffed out, with no hope of revival or reprieve.”

The guards dropped the screaming pit fiend to the ground.  By the time he hit, he was already dead.  His head lolled, upside-down, to face the line of petitioners come to swear to Asmodeus.

“The next vassal may step forth,” it croaked.

***

_*4 p.m., Bile Mountain*_

Our heroes leave the mountain again.  They are almost done with the level of the dungeons within the mountain.  (Technically it is the second level, but the first level is simply that open cavern with the great pool within it.)  However, they want to go outside while Horbin prays and regains his spells.  Again he pulls out the _portable store,_ and our heroes buy and sell a few things.  While he is in the store, Inoke pulls out a massive ruby almost as big as his hand and asks, “What is this ruby worth?”  The others stare at it in shock.

The store keeper takes one look and snaps, “Get that thing out of here!  That’s no ruby!”

Inoke immediately puts it back into his backpack and walks out of the store. Peering into the store from without, he calls back in, “What is it?”

“Where did that thing come from?” asks Sonja, amazed.  “That’s the biggest ruby I’ve ever seen!”

“Get it away from here!” the storekeeper exclaims.  Horbin sighs and, after it becomes clear that the storekeeper is not going to divulge anything useful, he closes the store for the time being.

Meanwhile, Inoke answers the druid.  “I got it from- um, a wizard.” 

“Who?” demands Horbin.

“Churr.”

“Who?” the cleric asks again, then snaps his fingers.  “The gnoll!”

“From the conference of spellcasters,” nods Inoke.  “He gave it to me.” 

Our heroes discuss the implications of this for a few moments.  Churr was the gnoll who had been a Delphin in the past, and Horbin had _true resurrected_ him for the Delphinate as part of a deal he made by which he also brought back the party after their deaths in Bile Mountain.  They had only truly met at the spellcasters’ conference roughly a month before, though.  Inoke explains that he had talked to Churr when the gnoll tried to buy his helmet (which he naturally refused to sell, especially since it hadn’t trusted the gnoll).  Churr had given him the ruby anyhow.  

An examination by the various knowledgeable folk in the party soon leads them to the conclusion that it might be a stone called _the Bloody Eye of Krull._  Krull had been a demon prince, but he had been slain eons ago.  Certain body parts of his, including an eye, were said to possess certain powerful magic properties involving divination.  “So you’ve got the eye of a demon prince in your backpack,” Orbius concludes.

“I bet Churr’s using it to watch us somehow,” opines Lillamere.

“We should destroy it!” Alcar declares.

“I don’t think so,” Inoke retorts.  “First of all, we’re not even sure that this is the eye that you think it is.  It’s not evil, right?”

“It’s the eye of a demon prince,” Alcar says insistently.

“So what?  What next, are we going to destroy Veil’s _shield of Graz’zt?_”  (Although, in truth, Inoke thinks, _Which we should do one of these days..._)  But Alcar only scowls.  The argument continues, but in the end everyone agrees to Inoke’s proposal that he stuff it in his _Heward’s handy haversack_ and take it into the mountain with them.  That way it won’t really ‘be with’ the party any more, at least while they are within the mountain.

And they go back in.

_*Next Time:*_ Back inside!

*Horbin and Angelfire, to those of us that recall names.  Sybele, thanks to Chaos, does not.


----------



## Greybar

Nice interlude (new material right) form Hell, but I think this is a typo "His head lolled, upside-down, to face the line of petitioners come to swear to Asmodeus."  switch Asmodeus/Lucifer.

Man, now I have to go back and reread the other ones for new tidbits...

(thanks!)


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## the Jester

“I’m just saying,” Thrush insists, “we should wipe out everything on the floor we’re on before we go any higher.  No cutting corners!”  He shakes a finger at everyone, but especially at Alcar and Lester.  “No rushing up the stairs until we’ve secured what’s behind us.  The last thing we want is to need to leave in a hurry and to have our retreat cut off behind us.”

“You’re right about that,” concedes Lester.*  “We do need to be careful to make sure we can get out of here when we need to.”  

Both Orbius and Lillamere are sending out magical divining eyes, with Lillamere’s _prying eyes_ making Orbius slightly jealous.  Soon enough the sensors will report back, and in the meantime our heroes set about searching some of the areas that they have been in but not thoroughly investigated, starting with the room that the stairs up from below leads into.  To their gratification, Gerontius immediately turns up a secret door.  Opening it reveals a hallway, and the party moves down it while the eyes search out some other areas.  The party finds themselves at a door after only about 100’, and throwing it open they find themselves looking into a rubble-strewn room with four great statues of the mastodon loxo in the corners.  Slithering noises come from within the rubble, and three foul snakes slide forth to attack.  They are clearly not entirely natural, as each of them has a head at each end of its body; However, they are little challenge to our heroes, and in but a few short moments they are dispatched.  

“Those snakes are called amphisbaena,” comments Sonja.  “But they look... warped somehow.  Diseased.  Befouled...”  He frowns.

“The Bile Lords have been busy,” comments Horbin dryly.

Our heroes warily search the room, expecting the statues to animate at any moment.  They don’t, and no new dangers reveal themselves.  After a thorough search, Gerontius once again turns up a secret door.  “Ze Bile Lords must be fond of zecret doors,” the air halfling chortles.  “But zey cannot hide zem from me!”  

This secret door leads directly into another chamber, this one somewhat cruder than most of those in the mountain so far.  As the party moves into the room, they slow and their conversation stops.  Sonja’s breath catches in his throat.

They have found the elephants’ graveyard.

Crude images of mastodon loxo of unknown antiquity are on the walls.  The art looks much more primitive than other pieces the party has seen on this level of Bile Mountain.  Bones are everywhere, yellow and white and stained brown.  Huge elephantine skulls, with odd bifurcated trunk bones, are laid in piles.  Great ribcages as wide as a wagon lay on the floor, splayed open like some odd mandala.  Thigh bones and fingers, pelvises and vertebrae- the entire 80’ diameter room is full of bones.

“Wow,” whispers Sonja.

“Hey, let’s search this place!  There could be loot!”  Lester grins and moves into the room.  He begins to rifle through the bones looking for anything interesting or valuable.  

And as he handles the bones, his intentions insolent and defiling, the bones start moving.  There is a terrific rattling sound as they drag themselves together, into a single shape- that of a long serpent composed of bones grinding against one another, with a huge loxo skull for a head!  Its skeletal trunk breaks off and is absorbed by the main body of the gargantuan creature, churning and clattering.  “Uh oh,” Lester comments.  

The great bone thing strikes, snapping down at Thrush, and it bites him.  The burly warrior braces himself and takes the blow, but to his surprise, it does more than just tear into his flesh.  Instead, the bones in his body begin jerking towards the monster, trying to free themselves of his body!  Thrush gives out a terrified scream, staggering weakly, and it chomps down on him again.  The bones in his body quiver eagerly, visible through the meat and skin of his form, and Thrush screams again, sagging on his feet.  He activates his _boots of teleportation_ and zips over to Horbin.**  

“Horbin,” he gasps, “help!”

The monster turns its attentions to the party’s dwarven monk.  Chakar sees the thing coming, clattering forward towards him.  It’s a mass of bony death headed right at him.  The monk takes up a defensive stance and braces himself to try to resist the monster’s ability to subsume bones, and then its massive ‘jaws’ clamp down on him.  He yells in pain as the bones in his arms try to pull themselves out of him!  

“This is not good,” Horbin worries, _healing_ Thrush.  Meanwhile, Alcar has cast _divine power_ and waded into the monster, smashing at it with his mace.  The monster lashes back at the angel, and Alcar screams too.  The monster’s deadly bone subsumption attack weakens him.  But he grits his teeth- this undead beast needs to learn the lesson of Galador’s mercy!  He strikes at it again, smashing bones to splinters.  While it is distracted, Chakar manages to tumble away from it after a failed attempt at going ethereal.  

Then Thrush and Inoke both step back into the melee, backing Alcar up.  A moment later Chakar is moving back in as well, having had a brief moment with Horbin that put him back into the shape he needs to be in to fight this thing.  

The creature stops for a moment and rears up.  Suddenly it spews forth four mastodon loxo skeletons, which immediately animate and lurch to the attack, but the monster is simultaneously suffering a punishing series of blows from Alcar and Thrush.  Then Inoke explodes to huge size and activates his _chain of overwhelming force_ and, in a single monstrous blow, he cleaves through all four skeletons, shattering them!  His next two blows are more than the entire serpent of bones can handle, and he casts it down in thousands of bony pieces!

“Wow, what was that?” wonders Thrush.  “That thing was _nasty._”

“I think it’s called a boneyard,” Horbin answers.  “The animate spirit of a huge group of bones.”

“Nasty is right,” agrees Chakar with a groan.  Horbin and Alcar quickly tend the wounded, magically _restoring_ their bones to their proper places and healing the bloody cuts and tears that their friends have suffered.  Then the party, led by Lester, resumes their search of the chamber.  Before long they uncover the remains of a party of adventurers.  They debate raising them, but after a fairly unproductive _speak with dead_ they decide against it.  Nonetheless, the remains of their gear includes a few magic items of no great power (a couple of potions, a wand of _detect magic_, and some low-powered chain mail and a glaive) and a sack of 400 gp.

“No wonder these guys couldn’t hack it in Bile Mountain!” Lester exclaims.  “They were probably just some over-ambitious adventurers without the wisdom to realize that they were in over their heads.”

Sonja wrily adds, “Well, maybe we are too.”

Orbius and Sybele, meanwhile, are gathering up the loot.  “It’s better than nothing,” admits Sybele.  “We can sell most of the crap.  And we can always use potions.”

By this time, Orbius and Lillamere have surveyed the rest of the level with their mystical eyes (at least, barring secret areas) and they report that there doesn’t appear to be anything else worth exploring.  After a brief discussion of the merits of thoroughness, they search every room anyway, just to ensure that they haven’t missed any secret doors.  Then they head to the stairs in the room with the great pool of bile, in which lies the corpse of the great bile beast.

And, as they head up the stairs, they find the one thing they missed: another pair of bile oozes.  

Caustic acid sprays out, blasting Chakar and Inoke.  Inoke manages to resist most of the damage thanks to his _energy adaptation,_ but Chakar finds himself burnt fairly badly.  Worse yet, he is stunned by the pain of the acid!

Inoke immediately draws his mace from his _glove of storing_ and sets to making an impression on the oozes, using his sweeping strike to attack both of them at the same time.  Thanks to his _energy adaptation_ his mace resists being dissolved by the caustic fluid of the oozes.  _Flame strikes_ and arrows begin whizzing forward.  Alcar shouts, “Watch out, they’ll destroy your stuff!”  But he is too slow in his declaration, for one of the oozes blasts Wankerman with its caustic spray and dissolves both his armor- and his epic spear!  He cries out in dismay as the weapon smokes, hisses and melts down to virtually nothing.  

But our heroes hammer at the oozes.  Inoke’s position and ability to strike both oozes each time he attacks, coupled with his near-immunity to their acidic touch and backed up by the spells of the party’s casters, is enough to smash the oozes into puddles of goop in less than thirty seconds.  

“Damn it!” Wankerman curses.  “Now I don’t have any armor!”

“Weren’t you armorless a great deal of the time anyhow?” asks Chakar.

“Yeah, but having armor is a lot better than not having armor,” Wankerman sighs.  “Worse yet, it got my spear.  That was most of my worth right there.”

“Maybe we should go back outside and open up the store,” Horbin suggests.  “You could get some new armor and weapons, we could see some stuff...”

“We do have time constraints,” warns Baron Lillamere.  “We need to attack the Bastion with enough time to overthrow it before they install the new Arrow of Law.”

“We have plenty of time,” Lester replies blithely.

“The longer they have to prepare for us,” Baron Lillamere responds, “the worse.  This is _Law,_ after all.  They’re probably good at planning, you know.”  

“At least they can’t tell what we’re doing while we’re in Bile Mountain,” remarks Horbin.

“But we need to go outside to access the store,” Wankerman insists.  “I _need_ a weapon and armor.”  The others can hardly argue with that.  

“Of course,” Lillamere grumbles.  “But let’s keep on track.”

Out and then back in they go.  Horbin’s _portable store_ provides items of reasonable worth for Wankerman, and soon the party has returned to the stairs leading up.  They move cautiously, but no more bile oozes show themselves at this time.  The stairs ascend for about 30’, and then Lester (who is in the lead) bumps into what appears to be a _wall of force._

“Allow me,” Lillamere says.  He uses his argent savant ability to _unbind_ the wall, dissolving it and allowing passage.  Unfortunately, this also allows the gas that had been blocked by the wall to flow down and over the party.  Only the _heroes’ feast_ that they consumed earlier protects them.

Coughing and wheezing, our heroes ascend another ten feet and into a chamber come our heroes.  The broken rubble of a great elephant-headed juggernaut is scattered around the room.  Those who were part of the original expedition to Bile Mountain recongnize their handiwork.  “We’ve been here before,” Orbius says with a nod. 

But there is only an instant to admire the broken juggernaut, for on the room’s ceiling are two more of the nasty energy-draining thorciasids.  They begin spitting their cocooning goo almost immediatley as Thrush rushes forward, but it slides off him ineffectually (thanks to his _freedom of movement_)!  For the most part, the party begins moving forward, trying to gain the room.  Baron Lillamere simply stays where he is and fires a volley of _seeker missiles_.  Inoke tries to attain a good position, but he is surprised when the rubble of the juggernaut suddenly starts to move, smashing into him and swarming around him!

This battle goes on a little longer, but the end result is the same.  The rubble swarm proves fairly potent, but it cannot survive against these heroes for long.  It flows over many of them, crushing them, but a combined volley of magic and weapon blows focused on it for a few moments takes it out of the fight.  The bugs are tough and dangerous, but Inoke comes up with the idea of using _iron body_ (via a magic item) to render himself immune to both their ability drain and their energy drain.  Soon the bugs are squished and the rubble swarm is pulverized.

After the battle is done, our heroes look around the room, and though there is no treasure, there are two doors out.  Picking one, they open it to reveal a long hallway that sinks halfway down.  At the end is a half-ruined door.  In the chamber are more of the cockroach-like thorciasids, but these ones are covered in yellow froth.  Bile drips from their mouths.  

“I’ve got them!” Inoke calls, and steps into the hall and closes the door behind him.  “While I’m in _iron body_ form they pretty much can’t hurt me.”  And he begins advancing on the bugs.  There are five of them, one of which is significantly larger than the others.  With a grin, Inoke begins pummeling.  Bug juice sprays as he starts killing them.  The thorciasids spit their goo at him, but his _freedom of movement_ prevents it from affecting him.  Their attacks, which are so deadly in that they drain energy and mutliple abilities, are useless against his _iron body._

But the big bug demonstrates a disturbing level of intelligence.  Quickly, it scurries back along the ceiling until it reaches the back end of the chamber.  Then it opens the door behind it, and the vomit hounds come forth.

_*Next Time:*_ A big battle!  The return of Axon and Axel (and introducing Axar)- but in a quantity you might not expect! And a Bile Lord!!  

*Thanks to a new spell of Orbius’ creation, _diplomat’s tongue,_ Lester can speak without rhyming.  At least as long as the spell lasts. 

**At least on the lower levels of Bile Mountain, our heroes determined that limited _teleportation_ is possible within areas (though they know they cannot ‘port up or down levels).


----------



## the Jester

All right, one more post and I'm caught up to where I was... after that I have to put in some work to get caught up to the game itself again! 

Edit: D'oh!  Never mind, turns out it's two posts after all.

Well, I'll try to post the last one tomorrow morning, then. 

Edit 2: Oh, and the last post is really short.  Hmm, maybe I'll actually add a new update to the end of that one, in which case it's prolly going to be tomorrow night before I post it.


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## the Jester

The vomit hounds are terrible to behold, and the stink that roils from them could blister paint.  Matted fur caked with dried blood, bile and (literal) vomit encrusts the beasts.  They move with feline grace, but thick dull scales line to their bodies beneath the disgusting fur, giving that first impression the lie.  Behind each of the strange creatures, a long, thin tail whips back and forth.  Their massive clawed paws flex and scratch at the bile-eaten floor.  Their heads are horned, scaled and covered in clumps of fur.  The foul stench coming from them reminds Inoke of vomit.

Over the telepathic link, Inoke calls, _Hey guys, there’s something else coming out-_

The beasts spray him with foul streams of burning vomit.  He cries out in surprise as half of the damage proves to be divine, bypassing his energy defenses.  It is shockingly powerful.  The sprays of vomit wash over the thorciasids that led Inoke into the chamber, as well, and the bugs writhe and squeal, obviously harmed by the smoking, stinking vomit.  Inoke winces and grits his teeth; then he takes a mighty swing and smashes one of the thorciasids still attacking him square in the center of its body!  He puts his back into it and, with a series of blows taking only seconds, crushes the nasty roach-like thing.  Then, utilizing a _greater contingency_ bestowed upon him by Orbius, he activates a maximized extended _Marius’ double actions_ and continues to squish the bugs.  They are in his way: in the way of his reaching the vomit hounds, who had completely ignored their presence when spraying their vomit at Inoke.  

Behind him, the door bangs opens.  Lester stands squarely in the frame, calling out invocations to the elements, and a lightning-substituted _meteor swarm_ blasts the biggest of the bugs directly in the thorax!  Spells begin detonating left and right as the party steps up their attack.  One of the vomit hounds surprises the party by growling at the thorciasids, “Attack, you stupid bugs!”  But with the party as a whole attacking, the battle quickly turns in their favor.  Sonja uses a _reverse gravity_ to force the vomit hounds out of melee, and Alcar pounds the thorciasid leader to death.  The party turns to the vomit hounds, to finish the battle.

Then there is another shift in the battle, as two familiar forms tumble into view- Axon and Axel!*  Though our heroes destroyed them before, the wickedly-skilled nimblewrights appear to have been rebuilt or replaced.  They spring into position smoothly, rapier-hands at the ready.  There’s something funny about their faces, Sonja realizes, but what-

“Ahh, we already killed those guys!” Lester complains.

Then, from behind Axon and Axel, more figures come tumbling forth.  They, too, spring into fighting stances.  And they, too, prove to be... Axon and Axel.  More tumble in- 

“They’re numbered!” exclaims Sonja.

“Uh-oh,” says Gerontius.  

“It’s some kind of new model!” exclaims Sybele.

“You know what these things are?” Chakar is nonplussed as an even dozen enemy nimblewrights begin advancing on our heroes.  

_Twelve,_ gulps Horbin, _four Axons, four Axels and four... others.  This could be tough._  He cannot help but recall how deadly the originals were.  _Twelve._

The Axons and Axels move smoothly forward to attack.  Those of the new third model- oh, heck, let’s just call them Axars- more or less hang back.  As they press forward, Sonja notes the numbers riveted to their foreheads.  There is Axel-1, but over there is Axon-7.  There is Axar-12.  To the left is Axon-19...

No more time for thinking.  The nimblewrights join the battle.

_*Next Time:*_ Enter: a Bile Lord!  And we’ll be in new territory by the end of the next update! 

*Axon and Axel were a pair of advanced nimblewrights that the party found in Bile Mountain in service to the Bile Lords.  Back in 3.0, they had a threat range in the neighborhood of 6-20.


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## the Jester

Lester is already chanting, throwing his head back as he invokes a _miracle_ to cast _Marius’ deconstruction._  In a flash of rust-colored light, Axel-6 falls into useless pieces.

“Get ‘em!” shouts Thrush, brandishing his sword and stepping menacingly towards the enemy.  

Gerontius tumbles away from them.  _They’re constructs,_ he reasons, _I can’t hurt them very much with my weapons._  Then he grins.  _But I can use my _ring of radiance_ to hit them with sunrays!_  And he proceeds to do so.  While it is less effective than his customary skill with daggers, _Diplomacy_ and _Gerontius,_ it is certainly better than nothing.

Meanwhile, Orbius casts a spell, and it seems as though a _prismatic sphere_ appears instantly above the nimblewrights, and they tumble upwards in the area of a _reverse gravity_.  The truth, of course, is that he magically halted time for a moment in order to effect these spells; and now, as four of the nimblewrights- all of the Axars, in fact- impact the deadly sphere and turn to stone, the Eye hits another one of them with a _Marius’ deconstruction_ and Axel-8 explodes into tangled wire and metal plates!

The Axons and Axels that remain hurry forward, dancing and tumbling adroitly.  They mob Thrush and Lester, stabbing and pricking them multiple times.  The two heroes groan with pain, but they are among the toughest mortals on Cydra.  A few flesh wounds won’t even slow them down!  Even less so, once Horbin casts a _mass heal_ to restore them both to health.

With burgeoning confidence, our heroes continue to tear into the nimblewrights.  Baron Lillamere _disintegrates_ one, while Lester invokes his _wrath of the elements_ against the constructs.  More of them fall, and the party pours it on.  The constructs are mostly defeated, but then more foes issue forth suddenly!  Another of the bile thorciasids scuttles in across the ceiling, followed quickly by a scowling dwarf in full plate and a shield, with a wicked-looking axe.  Behind him, a sick-looking man steps into the chamber, and both Horbin and Alcar gasp, for the man bears the trappings of a cleric of Bleak, the arch-enemy of the Light!

And then, a horrid reek presages the coming of Tamult the Bile Lord.  He enters the room, ten feet tal, withered with age.  His skin is yellow and drips disgusting yellow bile like sweat.  Only small patches of hair remain on his head, and he looks almost skeletally thin.  The hideous creature is surrounded by a cloud of noxious yellow gas.

“Kill them, my minions!” he rasps, and with a snarl on his withered lips, he casts the epic spell _Tamult’s assault._

Nobody even sees the halfling.

***

_*Darkhold*_

In a place beyond time and space- a place outside of Nature itself- three or five (depending on how you count them) beings of extraordinary power meet.  They are all quite concerned.  Once, all three (or five) of them were mortals.  Now, they are gods.  It has been eons since things changed, but they still all have poignant memories of a time _before._  They remember things even the very god of knowledge himself cannot recall.  As mortals, they dwelt in a time so long past that there are no records remaining (save perhaps within Darkhold itself), a time before the very multiverse that Cydra is but a part of. 

“I’m telling you,” the first one says, “something is terribly wrong.  The Master is concerned.”  He appears to be an elf, with eyes o’ gold and hair o’ silver.  He smiles, or rather smirks, constantly.  He is accompanied by a pair of red-eyed, depressed-looking brownies.  His name is Froth, and he is a god of things most foul: necrophilia, rape, cowardice.  Redeeming features?  What are those?  Well, he is a god nonetheless, empowered by Darkhold as are the other two (or four).

The Master he speaks of is not _his_ master, of course.  Froth admits to no master.  No, he speaks of the very architect of Cydra itself- the Master of Darkhold.

“Have you seen him lately?” asks the second.  “I haven’t been able to find him for quite a while.”  Zelman is his name, and he is lord of illusions, called the Emerald Mage.  He looks like a man with emerald skin and blue hair.  He in thin of build and wears a black cloak behind rich clothing of blue and green.  The jewels decorating him are mostly emeralds.  He is circled by nearly a dozen _ioun stones._  His staff, he has let out to Thimbleton, an adventurer to whom all three (or five) of these deities owe their freedom.  He glances at the third member- or, perhaps, members- of their group.  “Have even _you_ seen him lately?”

“No,” the first of the triplet Garnet sisters answers.  “But I have a feeling I know what he’s up to.”  Her face wears a tragic look.  She has golden hair and violet eyes.  A silver rose clasps her cloak closed at her breast.  She is dressed in fine silver armor and is well-armed.  Her two sisters bear less armor and weaponry; one of them, in fact, wears only simple robes clasped with a silver rose and carries nothing else.

“This has everything to do with that damned Scytale, doesn’t it?” Froth groans.  “He did something that let one of them through.”

“Not exactly,” the second Garnet- the one lightly armored- answers.  Her name is Sabine.  Like her sister Amethyst, she wears a cloak clasped with a silver rose.  “Scytale didn’t do it directly.”

“What _did_ he do?” asks Zelman.

“He taught one of the Cydrans a little bit more than was... wise.  This human, naturally enough, used what he had learned.  He tried to go back in time.  I don’t know whether Scytale tricked him or he just got ambitious, but...”

“Didn’t the Master set it up so that time travel was impossible on Cydra?”

Froth interjects, “Yeah, but we are talking about Scytale here.”

“We are also,” the armored Garnet- named Amethyst- points out, “talking about the Master of Darkhold.”

“Well, we know that something came through from the very end of the old universe,” sighs Froth.  “So it looks like Scytale managed to win that round.”

“There is really only one thing that could have come through,” Zelman says grimly.  “We all know that.  At the end- just before Tharizdun ate Nature- there were only a few surviving things.  And we know what they were.”

A silence descends upon them for a few moments.  A sense of dread grows.  They  all hesitate to name it, but finally, reluctantly, Froth whispers, “The Angels of the Apocalypse.”

***

_*Bile Mountain*_

Alcar reels back from _Tamult’s assault._  He feels many of the spells and wards on him dissipate in an instant, and then the spell blasts him with furious energy!  Fortunately, his innate spell resistance protects him from the damage, and then he feels a swift _ego whip_ slap off of the _mind blank_ that Orbius cast upon him earlier in the day.

Thrush cuts down another Axel, shouting, “Come on, _take them!_”  There is just a hint of fear in his voice at the sight of one of his former masters.  Still, he does not hesitate; he just moves in as quickly as he can towards the Bile Lord.

Orbius, meanwhile, is using _time stop_ and _Marius’ double actions_ to try to maximize his efficiency.  He uses both some new spells that he developed with Bile Mountain specifically in mind (such as _anti-bile cloud_) as well as some old favorites (such as _meteor swarm_).

Alcar moves to intercept the priest of Bleak, filled with righteous rage at the very sight of him.  A quickened _flame strike_ on him reveals that he is protected from fire (although the divine half of the damage gets through).  The evil cleric grins wickedly and brandishes his mace.  “I’m going to take you apart!” he barks.  Suddenly Lester passes up out of the earth behind him and blasts him with a _polar ray_ modified by his _rod of energy substitution_ to fire lightning instead.  The beam catches Melgin Lostway squarely in the back, and the Bleakist looks surprised for a moment as brilliant blue arcs of electricity sizzle through him- and then, without a word, he dies.

“Oh yeah!” exclaims Lester.  “I got him!”  He grins and gives Alcar a thumbs-up.

Suddenly the halfling becomes visible, with her knife stuck in Lester.  But because of his fortification, it barely hurts him!  His would-be assassin gives a cry of dismay.  Our heroes gape for a split second.

She has _two heads._

Sybele, meanwhile, uses _control sound_ to try to prevent Tamult the Bile Lord from casting spells.  Sonja casts a _reverse gravity,_ sending him to the ceiling.  Simultaneously, Lillamere begins pitting his spells against the dwarven warrior coming to slay him.  Then the thorciasid bursts forth from the _anti-bile cloud_ and touches Gerontius, siphoning his life force.  The invisible blade cries out in pain and anger and then begins a whirling array of cuts and stabs.  

Horbin glares at Tamult.  “We’re going to kill you again, in the name of Dexter!” he cries.  Tamult only sneers.  But then Horbin casts a quickened _lower resistance_ and Tamult’s sneer falters.  

Alcar and Lester, meanwhile, are dueling with the two-headed halfling.  Their dance ends abruptly, however, when Alcar swings his mace into her chest hard enough that he bursts her heart.  She collapses, dead.  

“I think things are going against you, Bile Lord!” Thrush calls from where he has moved to engage the dwarf. 

“Traitor,” Tamult growls from the ceiling.  “You’ll get yours, never fear.”

“I think not,” retorts Orbius, and he unloads on Tamult.  A quickened _puncture_, and empowered _bile ray_, and another _anti-bile cloud_ blast out (thanks to _Marius’ double actions_).  It is more than the Bile Lord can take.  He falls!

Then it is just a matter of mopping up.  Thrush finishes the dwarf in short order- he _is_ the foremost swordsman of his age, after all- and a combined magical and physical array finally slays the bile thorciasid as well.

Our heroes remain tense for a few minutes, expecting more attackers at any moment, but none come.  While several party members keep watch, the others begins stripping the valuables from the battle site.  Almost immediately, Horbin exclaims, “That’s my helmet!”   He grabs the helm in question and stares at it in shock.  “I’m keeping it.”

“You lost it when you all died in here?” asks Chakar.  He nods.

“Hmm.  Well, we’ll count that as your first treasure pick,” suggests Lester.  

“Well, we’re pretty wounded.  Let’s gather the loot and go away- maybe back to Sigil- and rest, identify and split up loot.”  Baron Lillamere glances at the others.  None of them naysay him.  Therefore they gather their treasure and any other sundry objects they choose and head downstairs to exit the mountain for a time.

But they will be back fairly shortly.  

_*Next Time:*_ A week in Sigil!


----------



## the Jester

_*9 p.m., Sigil, the City of Doors*_

Upon reaching Sigil, the adventurers quickly identify- via _analyze dweomer_ and the _portable store_- the items that they have acquired from their most recent series of battles.  When all is said and done, our heroes are impressed with the number and variety of magic items that they looted from the Bile Lord Tamult and his followers.  There are potions and oils, rings and weapons, belts and cloaks.  The real prize- taken, of course, from Tamult himself- is a _ring of epic wizardry_ that doubles spells of the sixth valence.  

“That is a potent item,” Lillamere says.  Orbius nods.

The party traditionally divides treasure by rolling dice to see what order people choose items in; thus it is that the ring goes to neither Orbius nor Lillamere- but to Gerontius!  Grinning, he tells them, “Perhaps we can arrange a trade, eh?”

There are several other items of interesting nature, including a _cloak of halflingkind_ (which apparently increases the wearer’s skill in climbing, jumping, sneaking and swimming.  There are also two unusual _ioun stones_ (which Thrush ends up with) that give _airy water_ and _feather fall_ effects to him.  The evil cleric that the party slew also had a _+5 unholy mace_, which Lester ends up with although Alcar and Horbin urge him to destroy it.

The party next discusses the idea of filing an injunction against Law.  _I don’t know if that would stop them,_ Horbin muses telepathically, _but it might at least slow them down._

Lester brings up the Eyebrarian’s time dilation demiplane.  “We could use some subjective time,” he states with a smile.  But when the party _sends_ to the Eyebrarian asking whether they might use it, they are disheartened by the response.

_It is not safe.  Marius has raided it and laid many traps.  He will be alerted if you go._

“Damn!” swears Horbin.  “I want to take some time to make some magic items.”

“We don’t have a whole lot of time,” Gerontius points out.  He adds telepathically, _We have to go raid the Bastion soon, too._

_We should finish Bile Mountain first,_ Lester declares.

_We have already agreed on a time frame,_ Lillamere projects insistently.

_I’m with the Baron,_ Sybele sends.  _I’m going when we agreed to go._

Lester shrugs.  “All right,” he says doubtfully.

Meanwhile, Horbin takes Inoke off to the side for a moment for a private conversation.  “Inoke,” he says, “I’d like to offer you the position of Defender of the Faith of Western Dorhaus.”

“Well, it sounds good in theory.  But- uh- what does this position entail?” 

“Well, you just kind of have to be available to defend the faith.  Frankly, you’re mostly a symbol.  But a symbol can be very powerful.”

***

Over the next week, Lester gets corporate sponsorship (being paid to wear the patch of a company in Sigil for a year).  Inoke acquires and reads a _tome of understanding +4_.  And, of course, Orbius does some divining.  Unfortunately, he doesn’t discern much immediately useful information.  He does learn the name of a powerful enemy of the the Arrows of Law- Jibber Jr.  _Hmm,_ he muses, Jibber was a singing slaad... I wonder if this could be his offspring?[/i]

Gerontius, Orbius and Lester take a trip to the Glen Lands, home of the halflings on Valonia.  They are being persecuted by orcs wielding terrifying sunpowder-based weaponry.  Gerontius and the rest of the party have previously made attempts to persuade them to abandon Valonia and come to Dorhaus, which is still very sparsely settled since the Fuligin Years (when Fuligin and his fiendish armies destroyed everything they could that was not evil for slightly over a century).  However, on this trip they find that Zenvo Delais, a charismatic halfling that they met briefly on one previous occasion, has been rallying the halflings to stay and fight!

Lester shrugs.  “You can’t blame them for wanting to defend their homes.”

“Ahh, but I was hoping... well, perhaps some of them will come, now or later, before the orcs attack them again.”  Gerontius sighs philosophically.  “There are so many orcs, and even if we kill a thousand there are millions more.”

“I’m sure we’ll come up with something,” Lester smiles. 

***

Then there was the issue of the salesman.  It came to Inoke’s attention that a salesman who had dealt with him had been murdered.  With Orbius’ divinatory assistance, he found that the murderers were devils, but could not discern who had sent them.  

Then it’s time to go back into the mountain.

_*Next Time:*_ Back into Bile Mountain!


----------



## the Jester

_*9/5/371 O.L.G., 10 a.m., near Bile Mountain, Pesh*_

Half a mile from the base of Bile Mountain, our heroes arrive in a burst of teleportative magic.  They spend a few moments casting a thick layer of buffing and protective magic on themselves.  To anyone able to see magical auras, they would glimmer and gleam and glow.  Cloaked by abjurations, enhanced by spells and psionics, wrapped in magical enhancements, they begin moving towards the entrance to the mountain.  Following the river to it, they enter the great passage that runs to the heart of the mountain.  As they pass out of daylight and into darkness, the stink of Bile Mountain begins to slowly build around them.  

“What’s our next move?” wonders Thrush. 

As they walk, the party begins discussing that very question (mostly telepathically).  Thrush insists that they should clean out each level before moving on; Lester proposes heading straight for the top.  On the whole, the group agrees with Thrush, and so the party continues its methodical approach, flying and climbing stairs up towards the area in which they fought Tamult. 

“I wonder if they’ve brought him back already,” muses Orbius.  

“Probably,” Lester says grumpily.  “And if not, they sure will have by the time we’re done with this level.”

“We killed him once,” Chakar replies, “we can kill him again.  And the next time we meet him, he won’t have his wonderful equipment.”

“Speaking of wonderful equipment,” Orbius says to Gerontius, “what are you planning on doing with that _ring of wizardry?_  I would like to offer to buy it off of you.”

“Perhaps,” the halfling responds, “you could make me a suitable magic item in trade, eh?”

Orbius strokes his chin.  As the two of them begin negotiating, Lillamere sends out another group of _prying eyes_ out ahead of the party to make sure that nothing has moved to block their advance in the ten days since last they came to Bile Mountain.  Indeed- nothing has.  Not yet.  _They’ve had a week, though,_ he muses.  _We waited too long.  We gave them too much time to prepare for us._ 

The party takes a moment to debate where to go.  “There are some crawling heads up that way,” says Lillamere, gesturing to indicate the direction he means.  

“Crawling heads!” exclaims Alcar.  “Let’s destroy them!  They are undead abominations.”

The party agrees that, since they will have to destroy them sooner or later, it might as well be sooner, and so they advance down the hall that Baron Lillamere has indicated.  A gaping opening on their right leads to a chamber that does, indeed house a quartet of undead, giant heads, crawling along a base of ribbons of raw muscle and tendrils of viscera.  They are destroyed in an instant by an empowered, maximized _holy blast_ from Alcar.  The explosion of holy energy is sufficient to annihilate them all before they even have a chance to act!

“That’s right, have some Galador!” snaps Alcar. 

The party bemusedly searches the chamber.  They find two gold teeth in the crawling heads’ collective mouths, a single silver hoop earring carved into an oriental-style dragon of some kind (apparently of cloud giant make) dangling from a half-rotten ear and a huge tiger eye gem that replaced a lost eye for one of the heads.  None of it is magical.  

“All right,” Chakar says, “what now?”

“We should perform a thorough search,” says Gerontius.  “We have only taken the obvious.  Zere may be secret doors or hidden things that we have missed in the rooms we have so far examined.”

They all agree that this seems like a good idea, and soon they have turned up not one, but _two_ secret doors.  The first- in the room in which the party fought the rubble swarm- leads to a room that Horbin blushes to remember.  It is full of old-looking but comfortable cushions.  The tingle of an enchantment slides off of the _mind blanks_ that everyone is wearing.  

“Oh yeah,” mutters Horbin.  “Uh, there’s nothing in there.”

“There’s magic,” Orbius says.

“Yeah,” Horbin nods.  “It’s an effect of the room.  It promotes, um, lasciviousness.  We’ve searched it before.”

Sybele pipes up, “Isn’t that when you and, um, the fiery priestess of the time goddess, you know-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Horbin interrupts, “whatever.”  He looks embarrassed.  “Besides, that is nothing compared to the whale incident.”*

The second secret door, which is in the hallway outside, leads to a 25’ square chamber.  A single massive stone table with two braziers holding unburnt incense is faced by a huge stone chair.  In the center of the table is a crystal orb seated in a cushion of velvet.  Orbius glances at it with his permanent _detect magic_ and there is a pop and crackle.  Suddenly Orbius staggers back as magical _feedback_ surges into his brain.    

“I think it’s a trap,” he winces.  “That thing has a _feedback_ spell laid into it.”

“Let’s just leave it alone, then,” Inoke suggests, and the party agrees.  They take a moment- once again- to decide what path they will take next.  After a moment’s quick discussion, they realize that they seem to have explored the entire place except for one door.  “Well,” Inoke says wryly, “that makes our decision easy.”

So the party throws open the final door.  Beyond it is a hallway that runs about 20’ before coming to a four-way intersection.  The party advances to the intersection and looks each direction.  Directly ahead, five feet past the intersection, is a door.  To the right, the hallway stretches off into the darkness.  Chakar’s darkvision can just make out some rubble towards the limits of his range.  Left, the hall is broken and descends into a pool of bile and a large mound of rubble that blocks passage.

“What do you guys think?” asks Inoke.

“Left...”  Sybele frowns.  “We usually go left first, but left is blocked in this case.”

“We could probably blast or dig through it pretty easily,” Lester opines.

“It might take a lot of our resources, though,” Baron Lillamere replies.  “Let’s get back to this area.”

“Yeah, if we can’t get through it, it stands to reason that anything on the other side can’t come through to us either.  Let’s take out the stuff that will be behind us.”  Thrush smiles.  “You know, more and more I’m looking forward to killing the Bile Lords again.”

The party opens the door first.  It leads to a room holding a broad pool of bile in it.  “Ick,” says Sonja bleakly.  There are no exits, no obvious treasure, and no monsters.  Our heroes close the door and decide to search it thoroughly later. 

To the right, down the long passage, our heroes find the rubble that Chakar saw.  It is the broken remains of a think door.  “I think we were here before,” mutters Horbin.  Beyond the broken door is a cell block.  

“Watch out!” says Orbius suddenly.  

All of the cell doors are flung open from within, and terrible creatures begin springing forth.  Clearly undead, their skin is cloaked in the pallor of death.  Long, snake-like necks extend above powerful, bat-winged bodies.

“Aags!” cries Inoke. 

One of the cells issues forth more than one aag, until there are a total of ten in the room!  The undead rush forward, screeching and laughing horrifically.  But then Lester pulls out the _wand of days,_ taken way back in the City That Waits, Moil.  With a grin, he shouts, “How do you like this, aags??”  A blaze of brilliant solar radiance emits from the wand, and four of the aags shriek and die in an instant.  

Thrush, Gerontius and Inoke begin pounding the aags, while Alcar unloads a quickened empowered _flame strike_.  He shouts a quick thanks to Lester and Orbius; they have loaned him a couple of _metamagic rods_, with which his powers are even greater than before.  He grins in satisfaction as three of the aags burn to ash.  

***

_*Heaven*_

“It is done,” breathes the artisan angel Ainon.

“Well done, my brother,” nods the Archangel Gabriel.  “His features are perfect.”

“I am honored to be of service,” Ainon answers, “though I am very sorry that it had to be for such a reason.”

“The aleax must have its features chiseled to match the offender.  It is a part of how things are done.”

“Of course, of course.  I only feel sorrow that there is an offender at all.”

“Ahh,” Gabriel replies, “I take your meaning now.”  He sighs.  “Yes, I do too.  He showed such potential, for a mortal.  Given time and patience, he could have been a great angel.  But he has fallen very low in my eyes now.  He has killed agents of the Light, paladins even!  And worse...”

“Worse?” prods Ainon.

Gabriel sighs.  “He is casting spells, but Galador has not been granting him them.”

_*Next Time:*_ The Headless Guardians!

*Horbin once had an adventure involving a whale’s marital aids, in which he had to help the whale, er “prepare” itself for donning the marital aid.  The full story is here.


----------



## Knightfall

I'm glad you're caught up, J. And that last bit, in Heaven, was an excellent touch. - KF72


----------



## the Jester

Well, I'm actually about seven games behind, depending on how you look at it.   In terms of this particular party, however, I am about 4.25 games behind.


----------



## the Jester

*Revenge on Bile Mountain (pt. 4)!*

The ashen remains of the aags lay at our heroes’ feet.  Alcar smiles in satisfaction.  It only took a few moments to defeat the undead.  Our heroes are beginning to feel somewhat more confident in Bile Mountain as they overcome challenge after challenge.  

“We can take them!” proclaims Lester.  “We should just go right to the top and hit the Bile Lords now!”

“No way!” Thrush protests.  “We don’t want to leave all kinds of enemies behind us that we might have to fight our way through if we’re trying to retreat.  I’ve been trapped in that mountain before, and it’s not happening again!”

“Regardless of our plan of attack,” Gerontius intercedes, “we should search zis area first, and see if ze aags had any treasure.”

Within the cell that spewed forth a half dozen aags, the party finds a secret door behind a loose stone.  The reek of the undead aags permeates the passage revealed beyond.  Following this ragged passage, our heroes come to a small hidden area.  Within it is the shriveled husk of some form of large humanoid creature.

“I remember that guy!” exclaims Lester.  “We met him here before.”

“Yes, he was despondent,” Orbius replies.  “I believe he was a devourer- a type of undead that imprisons and consumes souls in order to feed their powers.  He had no ‘fuel’ to burn, and had been starving for a soul for a long time when we found him.”

No further interesting items are in the chamber, so the party turns back and returns to the cell block.  “I guess it’s time to search the rest of the areas we haven’t searched,” Sybele sighs.

“And there is that passage that is blocked by rubble,” points out Chakar.

“It would take hours or days to get through that!” Thrush exclaims, shaking his head.

“Nah,” Lester says.

***

_*11:30 a.m.*_

As the party begins moving towards the areas they have not yet searched, Thrush pulls Orbius aside.  

“Hey, I was wondering if you could do me a favor,” Thrush says nervously.

“Maybe.  What do you need?”

“Could you _enlarge_ me again?  Permanently, I mean?”

Orbius frowns.  “I could, but...”

“Oh, come on, man!”  Thrush glances over at Sybele, who towers over most of the group.  “I need to be bigger to, uh, take care of her,” he mumbles.

Orbius sighs.  “Not today, but later.”

“Thank you!”  Thrush claps him on the shoulder.  “I appreciate it!”

“No problem,” Orbius answers, embarrassed.  

The party reaches the room with the pool of bile in it.  The chamber is full of the acrid, biting stink of the bile.  The pool lies placid and undisturbed; our heroes glance at it nervously, wondering if some terrible creature will lurk within it.  But nothing comes out of it as they begin searching, so- although they keep an eye on it- their fears prove unfounded.  

They do, however, find yet another secret door.  The place seems to be riddled with them.  “Be careful!” warns Baron Lillamere as Lester moves up to open the door.

“I hope it’s another Bile Lord!” declares Lester, and pushes on the edge of the secret door.  It swings open- and a group of bizarre headless creatures tumble into view!  They cartwheel end over end and it is very difficult to tell the difference between their hands and their feet.  

Perhaps there is no difference; for as the headless creatures tumble in, they seem able to attack with all their limbs, hopping from one to another as they launch punches or kicks.  They are tricky fighters, too, attempting trips and disarms.  A few attempt _stunning fist_ attacks with blows to the temple or the nose.  When they start using the _quivering palm_ technique, Chakar warns the party over the telepathic link: _These creatures are skilled monks!_  They move with incredible speed, and it is unclear exactly how many of them there are at first; when the party finally pins down the number, it is eight.

But as skilled as they are, the headless monks cannot equal the might of our heroes.  Gerontius’ daggers are like flickering from place to place, leaving red marks behind them.  Inoke, Alcar and Thrush smash their foes before them.  Lester and Horbin expend spells that damage all of the headless.  Finally, Gerontius defeats the last one.  Taking stock of themselves, our heroes find that, though wounded, they are not badly wounded.  A few moments of the ministrations of Alcar and Horbin, and they are as good as new.  Then a search of the Spartan chamber beyond the secret door- the lair of the headless- turns up nothing of interest.  The monks themselves, on the other hand, are well-outfitted.  Each has a magical robe, belt, ring and amulet.

“This could be a pretty nice haul, depending on what these are,” Lester opines. 

“Now what?” asks Horbin.  

“All that’s left,” says Thrush, “is that obstructed passage.”

“All right, let’s do it,” says Lester.

“Do you have a way to get us past it?” asks Chakar.  “I have seen you _pass through earth and stone_; can you allow us to do so as well, or something?”

“No, but I can _move earth,_” the L explains.  “Hey, I’m the god of adventure!  I have to be able to get to adventure.”*

Inoke snorts.

Nonetheless, the party moves back to the rubble-filled passageway.  “This may take a while to get through,” Lester tells them, and begins casting _move earth._  Slowly the rubble is pushed aside and behind them, taking out of the way, and the passage is cleared.  It takes about ten minutes.  Then, before the party heads down, Orbius sends an _arcane eye_ to scout out the situation.  “There are some sort of creatures in there,” he says.  “They sort of remind of a reptile, but also kind of a cat.  I am not sure what they are.”  After a brief pause, he adds, “There are two of them, plus a third- with three heads.”

“Are they bile creatures?” groans Horbin.

“They don’t appear to be,” answers Orbius.  “Besides, we have a _bile shield_ on anyway.”

“Well, then let’s go get them!” exclaims Lester.

The party advances.

_*Next Time:*_ The party against a group of sirrushes!  

*Lester is taking levels in the divine ascendant epic prestige class.  He hopes to become a god someday.  It will be interesting to see where this leads.


----------



## the Jester

At this point the party's composition is something like this:

*Baron Lillamere*- elven sorcerer 20/argent savant 5; CG.  He is a Baron under King Malford on Dorhaus.  His cohort *Hyliss* and he are lovers.  
*Inoke*- human ex-barbarian 2/psychic warrior 2/fighter 8/warmind 15; LG.  Inoke is a mace-wielding warrior of incredible prowess.  
*Horbin the MFKG Holy*- human cleric 27 of Dexter, now Bishop of Western Dorhaus; NG.  Horbin is a staunch worker for the good of the people of Dorhaus.
*Lester*- half-elven elementalist 14/warrior of chaos 4/divine oracle 3/contemplative 2/paraelementalist 1/heirophant 1/divine ascendant 1; CG.  The would-be god of adventure.  Lester's name is synonomous with reckless or bad choices.  He has never lived down pulling the lever that released Fuligin into the world.  His cohort is *Orbius*, the Eye, who is an incredibly powerful diviner/divine oracle.
*Chakar*- dwarven monk 22; LN.  Chakar is a formidable warrior and perhaps the best dwarven wrestler alive.  He has recently been trying to find the Perfect Masters, a mysterious group of epic monks.
*Sybele*- female human fighter 8/egoist 15/warrior of chaos 4; CG.  Sybele is large-sized due to a gift of Chaos.  She is a formidable archer and is capable of amazing psionic feats as well.  
*Gerontius*- halfling rogue 16/fighter 4/invisible blade 5/halfling paragon 2; CG.  Gerontius is trying to set his people free of the orcish oppression holding them down on Valonia, preferably by getting them to emigrate and come to Dorhaus.  
*Alcar*- half-celestial wood elf fighter 2/cleric 19; ECL 25; NG.  Alcar, the Angel of Food, was the leader of a heretical sect of Galadorians.  He is currently in big trouble with Heaven, though he is not aware of it yet.
*Sonja*- human druid 20; NG.  The newest addition to the party.  Sonja is a druid from Valonia who fell in with the party because she was a defender of the halflings.


Did I miss anyone?


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Use proper grammar when addressing your God*

Its God of Adventure, not god of adventure.    

Oh, and his name is also synonomous with kick butt and talkin' smack!  (Though Alcar could definately claim some stake in the latter.)


----------



## the Jester

You don't get capitalized until you get some Divine Rank.


----------



## Dark Star

Excellent update, as always!


----------



## the Jester

*Revenge on Bile Mountain (pt. 4)*

_I cannot believe we took a week off!_ broods Baron Lillamere.  _We have limited time to make progress here before we leave to assault the Bastion of Law, by our agreement- and we have squandered half of it._  He sighs.  Thoughts of the Bastion hang over him like dreary clouds.  

_I gave my word,_ he thinks again, reflecting on the party’s journey to the Isle of Vuivui, where Chaos gifted members of the party with an impressive array of items in exchange for their vow to assault the Bastion of Law.  Now neither Lester nor Orbius is inclined to follow through.  Only reluctantly have they been persuaded to go.  Inoke has outright refused, though he has vowed not to fight the rest of the party.  Lillamere scowls.  And Horbin is showing more and more reluctance...

_Even if I must go alone, I will go,_ he vows silently.  He glances sidelong at his old friend and lover Hyliss.  _Even at the worst, I will not have to go alone._

Then he pulls his thoughts back to the present, as the party proceeds into the chamber.  He is in the back, but he has seen the reports of his _prying eyes_ and he can see through Sybele’s _synesthetic link_ with the party.  There are three vicious-looking beasts in the room, one of them three-headed.  He unleashes a volley of _seeker missiles_ at the three-headed one, but is disgruntled to find that the creature has sufficient spell resistance that they break against it.  

Then Lillamere flinches back as the two-headed monster lets out a tremendous roar, which stuns both Gerontius and Hyliss!  The other two leap to the attack, tearing viciously into Inoke.  Orbius bestows a _mirror image_ on the big warrior.  The monsters ‘pop’ several of them.  One bite lands on the real Inoke despite the images, and it latches onto his leg.  Blood immediately begins to flow as the massive teeth crunch into his thigh.  He growls and pulls it from him, throwing it off after only a few seconds, but despite all his protections, his leg is badly torn.  

With a roar he _schisms_ his mind into two.  Then his second mind activates another power and he _expands_ to about 12’ tall!  Out comes his mace, but even as he is preparing to swing the monsters tear at him again!  His _mirror images_ pop like so many soap bubbles, and the monsters begin ripping at him again.  Even with his mighty ability to withstand damage, the creatures inflict terrific wounds, tearing into his arms, leg and chest.  Lester steps up, using a _ring of spell storing_ to cast another bestowed _mirror image_ on Inoke, and once again a shimmering, interchanging series of alternate Inokes springs into being.

Nor are the other party members idle.  As Zyltha begins singing, Thrush, a little further back in the hallway, grins.  The _far strike_ laid on his blade enables him to attack with killing speed.  The preeminent swordsman of his age (as Thrush styles himself) goes to work, and one of the beasts dies in short order, a web of deep slices punctuated by stab wounds across its body.  Chakar moves up into position to aid Thrush by distracting the creatures, making it easier for the warrior to hit them.  Sybele uses her psicrystal to _control sound_ so that the monsters cannot roar again- that was devastating, and Gerontius and Hyliss have not recovered yet!  Orbius, Lester and Lillamere start unleashing spells of ridiculous power.  But the monsters are extraordinarily resistant to our heroes’ spells.  Furthermore, they are extremely fast and nimble; it proves surprisingly difficult to hit them with ray attacks. 

With a gleeful prayer, Alcar casts both a quickened _divine power_ and _righteous might._  He steps up to join the melee.  Simultaneously, Inoke takes on the _form of doom._  Tentacles sprout from his back as he grows forbidding and monstrous- and quite powerful.  The tentacles slap out for the rending, tearing three-headed creature, which is now engaging him directly.  Horbin casts _heal_ and steps up to touch Inoke, mending some of his wounds, but the three-headed  monster is dealing incredible damage with every blow that lands, and it pops five images to top it off!

_These things are tough,_ Thrush sends respectfully over the telepathic link that the party shares.  He slices into the other one-headed creature again and again.  Lester stabs at it as well; a momentary pang goes through him as he recalls his old sword _Felix Optima Maxima_, which he lost long ago.  Alcar pounds at the beast with his mace, but still it lives!

“Forget this!” exclaims Baron Lillamere.  He calls out is the strange tongue of magic, making grand gestures, and a _wall of force_ suddenly springs up, walling the one-headed monster off.  

The entire party turns its attention to the three-headed monster.  It continues to tear at Inoke, who continues to pound it.  Sybele fires a _crystal shard,_ and a huge jagged block of crystallized ectoplasm streaks over and smashes into it.  It shakes one of its heads, but it continues fighting.  Inoke is starting to flag, though the monster itself is looking weaker and weaker moment by moment.  

_Inoke!_ cries Gerontius’ psychic voice from behind Inoke.  _I am ready now!_

Clearly, he is no longer stunned.

Inoke and Gerontius have discussed their tactics many times before.  So it is that Inoke launches a full attack at the beast, further wounding it, and then uses a _dimension swap_ to trade places with his halfling companion.  Gerontius’ twin daggers, _Gerontius_ and _Diplomacy_, are both sheathed, but with a flick of the wrist he pulls one out and thrusts deep into the monster’s chest.  The thing’s three heads all eye him foully, with disgruntled expressions of dismay on their faces.  It’s as if the monster is thinking, _A dagger??_

It collapses.

Gerontius chuckles and dusts his hands off before withdrawing his dagger.  

“There is still the one behind the _wall of force,_” Baron Lillamere says.  

“Let’s get it!” exclaims Lester.  “Can you _disintegrate_ the wall?”

Hyliss, head still ringing from the stunning roar of the beasts, says, “I can take care of it.”  The party turns expectantly, weapons at the ready.  Hyliss moves up and casts _disintegrate_.  There is a flash as the _wall of force_ is destroyed.  

Alcar steps into place immediately, slamming his mace into the monster’s head.  Hyliss discharges a spell into an _arcane strike_ and slices at the creature, inflicting more damage on it.  The beast lunges forward, tearing at Lester, popping over half of his _mirror images_ and wounding the would-be god of adventure.  

But the monster, however formidable, cannot stand up to the combined fury of Chakar, Thrush, Inoke, Gerontius, Lester and Alcar.  Together, they inflict more damage on it than most battlefields see in a war.  It is once again the invisible blade whose blow slays the monster.

“Those things were tough!” declares Horbin.

“But we killed them,” says Thrush with some satisfaction.

The party looks around the chamber.  Though there is no treasure to be found, they immediately notice a stairway spiraling up.

“There we go,” Sybele exclaims. 

Chakar and Gerontius lead the way further up into the mountain.  The stairs spiral up for around 30’ before ending in a chamber full of Axons and Axels.

The nimblewrights never even have a chance to act.*

When it is done, Orbius strides through the wrecked springs and gears and digs in the pile of destroyed constructs for a moment.  He pulls out a head.  “I thought so,” he muses.  “It appears that the Axons, Axels and Axars we have met so far have been numbered... except for this one.  This one was different.”  He displays the head to the others.  Instead of a number, a bold *A* is stamped in the electrum faceplate.

“Axon-A,” breathes Chakar.

“I hope he is the toughest of them,” grins Wankerman.

Again, some looting ensues.  Indeed, the nimblewrights were well-equipped.  Gerontius grins to himself.

Again, he and Chakar lead the way, stealthily heading forward a little ways ahead of the others while Lillamere and Orbius send out various magical eyes.  The two scouts find that the sole passage leading from the chamber with the nimblewrights soon T’s, though a door lies in the wall straight ahead as well.  The party gathers at the door, while Lillamere sends _prying eyes_ down each branch of the passage.  The door opens easily, and reveals a promising-looking hallway.  At the end of it is a room, once fairly richly-appointed but now spoiled by rot and bile.  A search doesn’t turn up anything of value, so the party turns back and, by long tradition, at the T they take the passage that now lies to their left.  This soon leads to a large chamber- though a fat passageway leads off just before the room.  The large chamber is very interesting indeed, for one the far wall is composed of a strange greenish-silver energy.  Some books are in the chamber, both on shelves and on a sitting table that is in one corner of the room.  

The glowing wall radiates magic.  Nobody can really remember much about it from before, so they decide to get back to it.  The books don’t radiate magic, so they decide to get back to them, as well. 

“Let’s explore some stuff while we have effects up and running,” suggests Horbin.  The rest of the group agrees with his idea, and they move back to the wide tunnel just before the entrance to the chamber.  It leads to a door, and when they throw it open, our heroes find themselves staring into a kennel, made out of flimsy wood.

_Anything with any strength or spirit could only be kept in there by its own choice,_ thinks Chakar- and the four vomit hounds within the pen prove him right.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes battle vomit hounds!  

*This through a very poor initiative check.  I had previously decided that they would all go on the turn of Axon-A.  We use a house rule by which, if you roll a 20 or a 1, you roll again and add (or subtract, if the initial roll was a natural 1) to the first die roll.  Sure enough, I ended up with an initiative of (iirc) 1.


----------



## the Jester

*Revenge on Bile Mountain (pt. 4)*

The battle with the vomit hounds is swift and brutal.  Once again the party is lucky to gain the initiative on them, and a preliminary volley of attacks leaves the deadly monsters wounded.  But then they burst their kennel apart with ease and spring to the attack, three of them focusing on Thrush.  The third belches a spray of acid at the party, catching Hyliss, Wankerman, Sybele and Gerontius in the area.  The halfling springs nimbly aside, evading the acid entirely, but the others scream in pain as the deadly liquid sears and melts their flesh.  Worse yet, their protections from acid only seem partially effective against this foul liquid!*

Thrush, Alcar, Gerontius, Chakar, Wankerman, Inoke and Hyliss all engage the vomit hounds in melee (although Hyliss does so via _far strike_).  Meanwhile, Lillamere fires off _puncture_ and _disintegrate_ spells with abandon.  Horbin unleashes a flurry of various powerful prayers at the creatures- _destruction, harm, greater command_ and more.  Sybele fires arrows and _crystal shards_ at the one of the beasts.  

Finally, Thrush manages to decapitate one of the hounds, and the party cheers.  The battle intensifies, with screams and yowls, blasts of acid, more powerful spells and psionics detonating throughout the room.  Then Inoke manages to line up a _psionic lion’s charge_ on two of the monsters (using his sweeping strike ability), and pounds into them!  Another one falls.  The tide has turned.  Whirling his mace, Inoke smashes another one down, killing it.  Sybele and Gerontius finish the last of the hounds.

“Sheesh!” exclaims Horbin.  “Those things aren’t pushovers.”  He and Alcar begin healing the rest of the party.

***

_*The Alcarite temple on Gorel*_

Blazing with golden auras, the aleax descends on angelic wings to the main temple of Alcar on Gorel.  The elven priests who follow Alcar’s heterodox (or heretical, depending on whom you ask) teachings scurry forth, at first assuming that it is Alcar himself.

“Welcome back, Father Alcar!” exclaims one.

The aleax looks at him and smiles beatifically.  “I am on a mission for Galador,” it intones.  “I may not speak of the details.  Tell me- where do you think I am most likely to have been over the last few days?”

“What?”  The elven priest looks puzzled.  “My lord, I do not understand...”

“Have faith,” the aleax says simply.  It smiles, and the golden aura around it intensifies, filling the elves around with religious awe.

“Yes,” the priest whispers.  “Var?  Possibly in Var, on Dorhaus.”

The aleax nods.  “That rings true.  Thank you.”  He utters a prayer and casts _bless_ over Alcar’s flock and then spreads his wide wings and lifts himself aloft again.  Tirelessly, the aleax begins winging its way west, across thousands of miles of ocean, towards Dorhaus.

Behind it, the elven priests gather, murmuring in wonder and confusion.

***

_*Bile Mountain*_

“All right,” says Baron Lillamere.  “Now where?”

Two other doors lead from the kennel room.  Sybele gestures at the leftmost one.  Opening it reveals a hallway about 20’ long, ending in a door.  Boldly advancing, Alcar opens the door.

A large room stretches before the party.  “Undead!” shouts Alcar, and Zyltha starts singing.  Thrush pushes past the Angel of Food and takes in the sight of another crawling head the size of an elephant and about a half-dozen armored humanoid undead with their eyes and mouths sewn shut.

“Deathbringers!” curses Lester.  “Chemnu brought one of them against us before!”  He fires a quickened _meteor swarm_ and an empowered _meteor swarm_ (using his _metamagic rods_), and all six of the deathbringers are blown to pieces!  He grins and turns to see Inoke, Alcar, Sybele and Thrush cut the crawling head down.

“That was easy,” remarks Horbin in surprise.*

“We _are_ ze most powerful adventurers on all of Cydra,” Gerontius chuckles.

The party strips the deathbringers’ weapons and armor; although it is heavy and bulky, there are plenty of party members to help carry the load (since access to their extradimensional carrying devices is cut off within Bile Mountain).  Then they turn to the single exit from this chamber: a passageway that leads to another door.  The party assembles around this door and Alcar opens it.  

The circular room that is revealed is full of decadent-looking, but spoiled, cushions.  It is warm and moist.  And within the chamber are horrifying creatures.  There are four ostentatiously-dressed illithids, garbed in rich-looking planar silks.  And next to them are hideous larger creatures, scuttling on crab-like legs.  Tentacles writhe.  Sharp teeth line a tremendous, slavering maw.

Sybele shrieks.  She has met one of these before, long, long ago, in the depths of Firestorm Peak... but it was much smaller.**  

There is a terrible sense of _wrongness_ about the things.

Alcar casts _holy blast_ into the room and then slams the door shut.  “Let’s get ready,” he says.  “Let’s make sure everyone is protected with _mind blanks_ or something.”

“What are those things?” wonders Lillamere.

“They are called brain collectors, or _neh-thalggu_.”  Orbius looks grim.  “They collect brains.”

“Who still needs a _mind blank_?” inquires Lillamere.  As they converse, the party is preparing with a variety of buffing spells and psionics.  Once they are ready, Alcar throws the door open again.  The illithids and neh-thalggu are waiting for them.

But they are not prepared for our heroes’ firepower.  

Again the battle lasts only an instant.  Another _holy blast_ from Alcar, followed by a _sunburst_ from Baron Lillamere, and they are dead.

“Yeah!” exclaims Lester.  “We rock!”

Another large door leads out.  The party throws it open.  A 15’ wide passage leads off into the darkness.  As the party starts down it, they hear a moaning, spine-chilling scream come from up ahead.  

Weapons drawn, our heroes move forward into a wide, exitless chamber.  At first glance, it appears to be a chamber full of death, with some sort of half-decayed, vaguely humanoid body slumped between what appear to be huge reptilian corpses.  A weird humanoid with bright green skin hangs asleep in the air, slowly rotating over the whole scene. It is about 10’ tall, hanging motionless in the air.  It has bright green skin and an elongated head shaped something like a teardrop.  Its eyes are enormous and bulging, but are shut.  Beneath their lids the great eyes twitch madly, apparently dreaming deeply.  The creature is obviously asleep.  

As soon as our heroes set eyes upon it, they feel a wave of desire for sleep wash over them.  All of them resist it, and Horbin frowns.  “What is this thing?”

Then the sleeping humanoid lets out another scream.  The sound is blood-curdling- and, again, our heroes feel a desire for sleep.  

“Maybe we should kill it,” suggests Thrush.  

“I think we should also make sure that these things are dead,” Inoke says, gesturing at the large monsters on the ground. 

“Good point.”  

Chakar and Thrush move forward to start ensuring that there won’t be any unexpected complications from the creatures on the ground when an unexpected complication arises from the creatures on the ground. 

The rotting thing that they assumed was a corpse rises up, and it is horrible to behold.  It has the look of an aborted fetus, tainted by the hatred of the universe itself.  Suddenly a staggering amount of negative energy is pouring out, filling the air around them.  

Lester runs the dreaming screamer through.

The undead fetus chortles with glee as the huge, dinosaur-like creatures that our heroes had initially taken for dead stir and rise.  Prismatic sprays of color begin shimmering along a ridge along their backs.  

“Uh-oh,” says Orbius.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes battle a hideous threat!

*Less than one round.  Yikes.

**Not yet told in any of my story hours, this was from when she was prolly about 6th level.


----------



## the Jester

*The Last Day in Bile Mountain*

Beams of colored light scintillate and shoot through the room as the prismatic dinosaurs heave themselves to their feet and begin roaring angrily.  The negative energy washing through the room shocks our heroes with its chill energy.  “Look out!!” cries Gerontius, hurling himself out of the way of multiple colored bolts of energy.  The others aren’t quite as lucky.  Horrified, the halfling watches as Horbin stiffens, groans, and turns to stone!  Hyliss is struck square in the chest by a beam of yellow electricity.  For a few seconds he screams and dances as the lightning races through his nerves.  Then he falls to the ground dead.

“HYLISS!!” cries Baron Lillamere.

Chakar darts in, distracting one of the monsters for Thrush, who proceeds to deliver a series of pounding blows.  Gerontius spins in and stabs into it before he spins back into a defensive stance.  Then, right in front of him, there is a _twist_ in the air as Sonja uses a _reverse gravity_ to send the monsters crashing to the ceiling!  One of them struggles forward out of the area and falls with a heavy _whump_ back to the ground.  Shaking its head to clear it, it roars and tears into the druid, its massive mouth ripping at his arm and its tail coming around club like to smash as his chest.  Gasping, Sonja stumbles away.  “It can hit hard,” he warns the others.  Blood soaks his tunic. 

Meanwhile, the abortive undead launches crazy beams of dark energy at Gerontius.  The halfling yelps, throwing himself from one side to the other, dodging madly.  The not-baby cackles with evil laughter.

Unfortunately for the undead creature, however, one of the great prismatic reptiles collapses under the onslaught of Gerontius’ lingering damage.  Grinning, the halfling spins and strikes at the next one.  His blade dips deep into his enemy’s neck.  It gurgles and shakes as Thrush pounds it from the other side.  Then Inoke knocks it sprawling to the ground with a mighty blow.  A final blow of his great mace, and the monster is slain.

Most of the party turns to the final reptile, Gerontius waggling his finger at the abortive undead with a grin.  They begin to turn the figurative heat up on it, while Lester turns to deal with the undead thing.  “Take this!” he shouts, pulling forth the _wand of days_ that the party gained so long ago in the City That Waits, Moil.  There is a blaze of solar radiance and the fetal undead squeals, flinching back as chunks of its flesh catch flame and burst into ash.  It howls in pain, then glares at him- but Lester’s not done yet.  Thanks to _Marius’ double actions_, he can also cast a _sunburst!_  Brilliant white light explodes soundlessly throughout the chamber, and the undead shrieks in agony.  It howls like a baby, but the L knows no mercy for its kind.  Relentlessly, he advances, pulling out a _metamagic rod_ and using it to fire a twinned _polar ray._ 

With a shudder, the unliving abortion collapses into a pile of burnt and frozen meat.

Meanwhile, the others have finished the final dinosaur.  However, the fight isn’t over yet, for a trap door in the ceiling swings open and a quartet of flaming bony figures tumble down from above!  

“Lavawights!” shouts Alcar.  “Watch out!”

The blazing undead engage our heroes in a brief and utterly unsuccessful battle.  Orbius’ _reverse gravity/prismatic sphere_ combination once again proves invaluable, and soon all that remains of the lavawights is broken stone.  

“Our companions,” says Chakar, gesturing at the petrified Horbin and Hyliss’ corpse, “need some aid.”

Reluctantly, the party decides that their best course of action may be to retreat long enough to fix their friends’ unfortunate... situations.  Inoke, Sybele and Thrush, all being quite strong (especially when large or bigger), pass the statue back and forth as the group begins the long retreat down out of Bile Mountain.  Finally, they reach the mountain’s base, and then leave the cavernous first level (which consists merely of a single huge chamber, mostly full of water, with a single visible inflow and outlet).  They troop back outside and then _superior teleport_ away, back to Var and Horbin’s Halls of Healing.  Unfortunately, there is nobody there powerful enough to unpetrify Horbin.

It’s around this time that the party realizes that Alcar has slipped off on his own. 

The party therefore begins searching for someone who can.  First they check at the castle, but King Malford is not present.  A little work turns up Arion the Archmage at a new bar in town (called the Fresh Fish).  As usual, he is more than a little drunk, but he happily offers to help them on the morrow.  “I just don’t have it prepared,” he explains.  

“Umm... well, we’re kind of limited on time,” Baron Lillamere replies.  “I don’t suppose you know of anyone else that might be able to help?”

Arion ponders for a moment, then suggests Thimbleton, one of Malford and Lester’s old traveling companions and adventuring buddies.  He issues a _sending_ to Thimbleton, and tells the party, “He can help.  He says he’ll meet us in the castle shortly.”

So they go back to the castle, and not long after, Thimbleton hurries up to them.  “Glad to help,” he says.  “Take me to Horbin.”  

***

_*9 p.m., the Halls of Healing*_

“...thanks again,” says Horbin.  He grins at Thimbleton as they shake hands.

“Sure,” replies the gnome modestly.  “I’m glad to be able to help.”

“Listen, we’re going to have a few drinks, you know, celebrate things, that sort of deal.  Care to join us?”  Thrush grins.  “A friend of Malford’s is a friend of mine.”

Thimbleton hesitates for a moment.  “Maybe for a bit, but I have things I need to be getting back to.”

The group rents a tavern for the night.  Some good, fun drinking ensues, with Arion and Thimbleton joining the party briefly.  Lillamere braces Arion about joining them when they assault the Bastion of Law.  “When?” the archmage asks.

Lillamere frowns and digs out a notebook.  He looks at it, checks the date, and whistles.  “The day after tomorrow.”

“Hmm,” says Arion thoughtfully.  He makes promising noises, but he is drunk, so who knows?

Later that evening, Ten Buck Tom approaches Horbin.  “Say,” he asks, “did Alcar every catch up with you?”

“No, we’ve been wondering where he is,” Horbin replies.

“Oh, he was looking for you earlier today, early this afternoon.”

“But we were in Bile Mountain then.”

“Well, he came around looking for you...”

“No, Tom, you don’t understand,” Horbin responds, puzzled.  “He was _with us_ in Bile Mountain this afternoon.”

They look at each other.

***

_*Midnight*_

“Hey Horbin,” calls Sybele.

“Yeah?” 

“I was wondering if you could cast a _sending_ for me,” she asks.

“Uh, sure.  To whom?”

“To the leshay that is hunting me.”

Horbin cocks his head.  “What do you want to say to him?”

“I want to offer to let him hunt me.  I mean, I’ll put up a good chase.  I’ll totally cooperate, but all I want is for him to leave us alone until we’re done with the Bastion.”

Horbin looks at her dubiously.  “Well, it can’t hurt to try,” he admits.  He murmurs prayers to Dexter and clutches at his holy symbol.  A message issues forth from him: _Lady Sybele agrees to the hunt in a forest of your choosing after her current quest, agrees to her outcome.  Action before then considered murder._

The response is arrow-swift: _I scoff at your rules.  I hunt my prey.  When the arrow comes she will run._

“Oh well,” Sybele sighs.

“We have a lot of stuff on our list, don’t we?” sighs Sybele.

_Well, the Bastion of Law isn’t on my list,_ states Inoke firmly over the permanent _Rary’s interplanar telepathic bond_ that the party shares.

_I don’t think I can go, either,_ Horbin announces.  _Especially now that I’m a Bishop._

Lillamere shakes his head in woe.  _Well, at least we will still have Alcar as a healer,_ he thinks over the link.

“Where is he, anyway?” wonders Chakar.

***

_*9/6/371 O.L.G., 10 a.m., at the foot of Bile Mountain*_


“One last day,” Lillamere remarks, gazing up at the yellow-brown soil of the mountain.  “And then...”  He trails off, but finishes telepathically.  _The Bastion._

_You sound eager,_ thinks Orbius.  

_The longer we wait, the more time we give them to prepare, the worse off we are,_ Baron Lillamere insists.

_We’ll be fine,_ Lester assures him.  _I’m sure we can handle whatever they can dish out._

_Well, I’m glad you’re so confident,_ the Baron replies sardonically.  

The party walks in to the first level of Bile Mountain: the vast, wet, empty cavern.  Only the stairs twisting up one wall show any sign that there might be something intelligent within the mountain’s innards.  

Our heroes begin ascending back into the mountain, heading towards its festering heart.  Inoke is in the lead, and abruptly he stops.  “Hey,” he exclaims, “there’s a _wall of force_ or something in the way here.”

“Wait,” says Chakar, “that wasn’t there before-”

The trap springs.

_*Next Time:*_ Ambush in Bile Mountain!


----------



## SpadeHammerfist

*erhumm!*

Bumpty bumpty!


----------



## the Jester

Sorry, I've been doing an extreme amount of prep for the next epic game.  Just a few games after the story hour's position, our heroes are in the midst of falling into _another_ trap.  They didn't have any trouble with the devils, but the arrival of six >COUGH COUGH HRM SCUSE ME< looks ugly.

What the party doesn't know is just how thoroughly Law has planned their response to this attack, and how thoroughly informed they were by >SNORT, COUGH, NOTHIN TO SEE HERE<.  Yep, I predict that our heroes are screwed.   

Stay tuned for some Cydra-changing events, one way or another!


----------



## hippiejediz

the Jester said:
			
		

> Just a few games after the story hour's position, our heroes are in the midst of falling into _another_ trap.  They didn't have any trouble with the devils, but the arrival of six >COUGH COUGH HRM SCUSE ME< looks ugly.
> 
> What the party doesn't know is just how thoroughly Law has planned their response to this attack, and how thoroughly informed they were by >SNORT, COUGH, NOTHIN TO SEE HERE<.  Yep, I predict that our heroes are screwed.
> 
> Stay tuned for some Cydra-changing events, one way or another!




We all know how well traps work against us. Oh no they might kill the cohorts, but they know they are going down. The party knew that Law would thoroughly plan for us, but what Law cannot plan for is the unexpected and we are the Variables of Chaos. Expect the unexpected, but you cannot plan for it. 

I at least predicted the COUGH, COUGH, HRM to an extent. Give the rogue some time and he'll route out Mr., Miss, or Mrs SNORT, COUGH and their vitals.


----------



## the Jester

All right, I've been too busy prepping for the next session to do any real writing, but here's a quick update with a minor spoiler in it.  It won't matter, though; it's too late for the pcs to do anything about it. 


******

_*The Bastion of Law*_

“They will be coming in the next few days,” Prayzose tells the other Arrows of Law.

“We had better be ready,” declares Marius.  “They are extraordinarily powerful.  They destroyed Asmodeus.  We would do well not to underestimate them.”

Dekrasode nods.  He has adopted a human form for the sake of a comfortable fit in the chamber in which the Arrows are meeting.  “They are friends of Malford,” he declares.  “That alone speaks highly of them.”  He smiles.  The face he wears is an old pleasure: Emperor Tovan “Kinslayer” of Imperial Wotan.  “And let us not underestimate the powers of Orbius.  They might yet discover the identity of our soon-to-be seventh and attempt to strike him down.”

“Boccob’s eyes see much,” declares the Judge of Worlds flatly.  It has shifted, over the last few hours, into a war machine form that is... formidable.  It bristles with weapons: blades and tubes...

Marius’ brow furrows as he recognizes the clockwork mechanisms of Law’s uneasy ally, Master Control.  _I hope the Judge of Worlds doesn’t underestimate Master Control either,_ the chronomancer thinks.  Of all of Law’s powerful allies, the strange, formless machine consciousness worries Marius the most.  Despite its strict logical- and therefore lawful- bent, Master Control seemed... too ambitious.  And too unreliable: Marius’ chronal magics had shown him that it went back to _before._

He frowns as his mind lingers for a moment on some recent temporal ripples of strange import, but then he shrugs.  Time enough for that later.  The coming confrontation looks ominous.  _I will have to take special measures to ensure that neither I nor my items are severely inconvenienced,_ he thinks, and his mind solves the problem instantly.  

He turns to the others.  “My initial wave will only hinder them, but it should at least give them food for thought.”

“We can’t afford to strike with anything less than maximum force,” Prayzose says grimly.  “I am not looking forward to this battle.”

“You are frightened?” Dekrasode goads. 

_He knows full well how I feel,_ Prayzose sighs internally.  Patiently, he replies, “Some of them are my _friends,_ Dekrasode.  I will spare them if I can.”

“We cannot afford to spare them,” snaps the dragon.  

“I think we can.”

“This is not the time,” Lord Alyth interrupts the two of them sharply.  “We have common enemies to confront.  Our strength lies in standing together.  We must greet them together, as the fingers on one hand clenched into a fist.”  Grimly, he adds, “I do not know them, as some of you do; but their work speaks for them.  Asmodeus was well done.”  After a moment, he adds, “His replacement was well-chosen.  If they struck at him, could he defeat them?”

Prayzose hesitates.  “He... might be able to.  Or at least drive them off.  It would depend on whether they put him in a position to use his best tactics.  If they ambushed him, they would probably defeat him.  In a fair fight... I think he could stand against them.”

“If they determine his identity-” begins Cluma

“If they determine his identity, then nothing,” snorts Lord Alyth.  “We will provide him with a safe trip to us here until the time comes for his appointment.”

Cluma sighs.  He nods.  He paces a moment, caressing the _Rod of Seven Parts._  He strides to the window and looks out over the ramparts.  

“Do not worry,” Prayzose says.  He smiles.  “Our plan will work.” 

“How much time until we can inform them it is under way?” Cluma asks. 

“We will have reports via _sending._  You worry too much, my friend.”

“Do _not_ underestimate them,” Dekrasode snaps.  

Lord Alyth nods.  “Indeed.  We have not.”  His eyes bore into the dragon.  “That is why we have a plan.”

“And while we... _inconvenience_ our enemies,” Marius states, “our forces will take the fight to their homes.”

_*Next Time:*_ Back to our heroes, where they are falling into a decidedly different trap in Bile Mountain!


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

Tehe, I <3 the Arrows of Law


----------



## the Jester

_*The first level of Bile Mountain, 10:10 a.m.*_

Back up just a moment with me.  Our heroes have only one remaining day in Bile Mountain, that place that seems to have become as much of a nemesis as any creature could.  Then their time will be up, and they must move onward to assault the Bastion of Law before the new Arrow of Law (who will replace Asmodeus, whom our party has slain) is appointed.  For the moment, the identity of this new Arrow is hidden; but as long as the Seven Arrows of Law are missing a member, the Bastion is vulnerable.  If they can overthrow it, the battle between Law and Chaos should move away from a stalemate and to a winnable position.  At the least, the party will have discharged the debt that many of them accumulated at the Isle of Vuivui, when the power of Chaos granted unto them a variety of potent items.  Bile Mountain seemed a good place to start because it would render them inscrutable; it is protected from scrying by mighty epic wardings.  They should be able to take the forces of Law by surprise.  

It is their last day in the mountain before beginning their assault on the Bastion of Law.  And speaking of taking by surprise, our heroes have just fallen into a trap.

The cavern they are in is vast; it stretches hundreds of feet across.  The lion’s share of it is full of a slow-moving pool of water.  (For millennia, it was a polluted mess of bile, but in their previous journeys within the mountain the party destroyed the Crux Crystal that generated the bile.)  A thin wafer of shore, never more than 100’ wide, circles the vast cave, save for where the river flows in and through the mountain.  Along one section of this shore, a narrow stair climbs up to the entrance to the dungeons within the mountain.  It is here that we find our heroes, at the same instant at which we left them.  They have ascended that stair, and at the top, Inoke (who is in the lead) has stopped and exclaimed in surprise at the presence of a _wall of force._

“Wait,” says Chakar, “that wasn’t there before-”

Caustic acid sprays down from the ceiling, splattering all over the party’s front rank- Thrush, Chakar and Inoke!  Inoke’s psionic powers activate _energy adaptation_ instantly, saving him from the worst of the acid, but Thrush howls in agony as his armor melts into pieces!  Chakar’s _gloves of dexterity_* melt down to nothing as well.  The dwarven monk cries out in anger.  

Above the party, a bile ooze hangs, swollen and foul.

The hair on the back of Lillamere’s neck begins to stand up.  _It’s a trap,_ he thinks.

The ooze lashes out at Thrush, battering at him with its pseudopodia from the ceiling.  Without his armor, caught off-guard and still flat-footed, Thrush is a sitting duck.  Blow after blow rains on him for impressive damage.  “Aargh!” he yells, and the muscles in his arms tighten and bunch.  Suddenly his sword cleaves a great rent in the ooze, too fast even to see, and a massive gout of yellow-brown fluid spurts out of the thing!  Thrush backpedals, trying to put some distance between him and the equipment-eating thing, and cries, “Horbin!  I could use a little healing!”

_Damn it, where are you, Alcar?_ Horbin sends crossly over the party’s _telepathic bond._  They haven’t seen him at all today.  After the party returned to Var last time, he vanished.  There is no answer now, either.  Cursing to himself, Horbin hurls a _destruction_ at the ooze and moves to intercept Thrush.  

But then the trap begins to close, as a group of nimblewrights surfaces a ways away in the vast underground lake.  They all start casting spells.  Suddenly Horbin is under assault by multiple _polar rays_ and empowered _disintegrates!_  He screams as lancing magical rays hit him again and again, and only his incredible fortitude saves him from utter destruction!

“It’s a trap!” Baron Lillamere shouts.  “They were waiting for us!”

“Zey are targeting Horbin!” cries Gerontius.  “Stop zem!”

“I think I can take care of the ooze,” Inoke states.  He activates his _iron body_ psionic power.  “Between being made of iron and my _energy adaptation,_ I don’t even know if it will be able to hurt me.”  He smiles.  _Just like the thorciasids,_ he thinks, and charges!  But instead of trying to hurt it, Inoke knocks it off of the ceiling!  Together, he and it plummet to the shoreline below the stairway!

Chakar frowns.  _If I hit the ooze with my fists or feet, it will burn me.  I must find another way._  He looks around for a moment.  The walls are pitted and scarred from centuries of bile exposure.  The dwarven monk smiles.  He finds easy purchase for fingers and toes in the bile-pitted stone of the walls.  He begins to climb, and when he reaches sufficient height, he maintains a staunch grip with his feet, knees and chin while he uses his hands to tear a chunk of rock free from the wall!  He swings himself around and hurls it at the ooze, and the rock crashes into it with a wet smacking sound!  

Then he hurls himself off the wall, not at the ooze, but at the stairway directly _above_ the ooze.  It, too, is composed of the weakened stone, and he smashes into the edge of it with dramatic force, dislodging it and forcing a large chunk down on the ooze!  Chakar himself leaps aside, landing on the stairs.  

Horbin retreats enough to cast first a quickened _heal_ on himself, and then a _mass cure critical wounds._  The combination does not fully restore him, but it’s a good start.  Still- he can’t stand up to much more of that.  _Alcar!  We need you!_ he shouts again, telepathically.  

Simultaneously, Sybele calls out over the mind link, _This is a trap.  We don’t want to be in here.  I’m going to take down that _wall of force._  She rushes up the stairs until she reaches it, leaping past the hole that Chakar just made, and manifests psionic disintegrate.  “Come on!” she cries aloud.  She takes a step past the position of the disintegrated barrier- and encounters another one.  “Oh no!  There’s another one!” she yelps.  Where there are two walls of force, there are probably plenty of walls of force.  We just need to take these guys! 

But things begin looking even worse as a pair of enormous nasty things extrude from the muck at the bottom of the water.  Great octopi made out of mud, they begin moving forward towards Inoke.  Great dripping tentacles smack the huge iron warrior for significant effect.  They grasp at him, but fortunately, Inoke wears a ring of freedom of movement and thus slips free with ease.  But the mud-monsters are nothing to laugh at: they are gargantuan, they have many attacks- and they hit hard- and their tentacles quickly prove to be able to reach quite a distance.  

Then the nimblewright start casting spells to enhance the ooze and the octopi, as well as to further impair our heroes.  Inoke and Thrush both find themselves the targets of rays of enfeeblement, and Inoke additionally suffers a greater dispel magic, polar ray, slow, and multiple quickened magic missiles.  It’s enough damage that even he is impressed.  

From the top of the stairs, Thrush, Chakar and Dorn Wankerman all leap to the attack on the ooze- literally!  They jump down from above, some of them accepting as much as 30’ of falling.  The ooze is standing up to the damage that Inoke is putting out, but the combination of them is sure to be enough to defeat it... isn’t it?  Wankerman starts the fun with his bullywug breakdance**, using techniques gleaned from studying the bullywug battle techniques.

As if in response, the ooze spews another foul burst of caustic acid, burning Horbin and Inoke and destroying the cleric’s shield and Gerontius’ headband!  A few seconds later, the nimblewrights fire another volley of spells, this time area-affecting ones such as reverse gravity (which plucks Horbin away from the rest of the party, and which also looks an awful lot like setting him up for some more targeted fun) and ice storm, as well as targeted spells that nobody recognizes but that Inoke and Gerontius resist.  

Things get even harrier when the death snappers arrive.  At first, our heroes take them for four giant snapping turtles, and idle in-battle speculation assumes they will be bile monsters.  But unfortunately for the party, they are quite incorrect.  

Captured, awakened by one of the Bile Lords, trained to be formidable guardians- and then sacrificed to the Queen of Guts, their entrails torn open to be drooled on by her... and now, at last, aware, full of spite and hate- they are gutlings.***

The battle reaches a new fever pitch.

***

*9:00 a.m., The Cathedral of Dexter, Var*

Alcar alights before the great Cathedral of Dexter.  Built by Malford to commemorate his friend, the building is a wonder of stained glass windows and elegant marble.  The best gnomish artists and architects available had been summoned to make the cathedral something special, and they had succeeded.  

Alcar doesn’t usually come here.  But he has been drawn here this morning.  Stories of an imposter, masquerading as him- a fire begins to burn in his breast, but he takes a deep breath.  Faith, he thinks, will guide me.

He walks into the nave and there, radiant, is-

Himself?

Himself, but radiant.  Surrounded by a golden aura, the flaming color of the sun.  The blaze of the Light.

“Alcar, so-called Angel of Food!” the figure calls.  

“So-called!” Alcar exclaims.

 “Your halo is tarnished,”  the radiant figure says angrily.   “I am the aleax of the Light your God, and I have come to punish you in His name!”

*Next Time:* The ambush at Bile Mountain continues!


*iirc- I know he lost magic gloves here.  Seldomseen, do I have it right??

**A custom tactical feat from my campaign.  For your edification:

*BULLYWUG BREAKDANCE (Tactical)*

You have studied the techniques of the bullywugs, who have had leaders that performed frighteningly well with their spears, and have learned several devastating spear techniques.

*Prerequisites:* Jump (7 ranks), Always Ready, Combat Reflexes, Hold the Line, Skill Focus (jump), Weapon Focus (any spear)

*Benefits:* Following the bullywug techniques, you gain access to the following three maneuvers:

-Death Leap: When you move and jump to attack an enemy from above with your spear you inflict double damage.

-Trick Flank: When an enemy moves to attack you and you did not move in your last turn, if you are wielding a spear and there is a square adjacent to you from which you would flank that enemy, you may take a 5’ step and an attack of opportunity on that enemy from flanking as an immediate action.  If you choose to take a 5’ step, you must step into flanking, but if multiple squares allow you to flank, you may choose which square to step into.  You move and take your attack of opportunity after your enemy finishes moving but before she attacks. 

-Avoid Charge: When you are being charged and you take an attack on the charger (whether an attack of opportunity, a readied action, or what have you) you may choose to leap away at the last instant instead of taking the attack.  You make a Jump check and move the indicated distance perpendicular to the line of the charge; if this carries you out of reach of the charger, his charge continues 15’ or to the limit of his charge range, whichever is less.

***In the interest of full disclosure, the death snappers were gutling awakened giant snapping turtle fighter 15s._


----------



## Greybar

This does look dire.  It is certainly not surprising that the knowing enemy has started targeting Horbin.  Had the party considered what to do if/when Horbin or Orbius was specifically targeted like that?


----------



## SeldomSeen

Yes Jester, that is correct.  stupid slime melted 'em right off.  Good job catching some of the cinematic feel of this scary battle.  

As to planning what to do if a primary healer gets attacked.......

Planning in the chaos parting goes like this  

Player 1 "ok we are all agreed on this cool plan witch will allow us to handily defeat our enemies, right?"

Player 2 "yes lets......OH SHINY OBJECT!!"

Player 3 "I'm shopping"

Players 4-7 **does exact opposite of what was planned**


----------



## helium3

the Jester said:
			
		

> ***In the interest of full disclosure, the death snappers were gutling awakened giant snapping turtle fighter 15s.




What's the CR on something like that?


----------



## the Jester

helium3 said:
			
		

> What's the CR on something like that?





Ehhh, right about CR 22... 

You know where to go to check out their stats, right?


----------



## SpadeHammerfist

*er, sort of...*

link it, oh mighty one, link it, please, 

that's just about the right CR to hassle my PCs (why did I let them use Swashbucklers??)

ta, in advance


----------



## the Jester

Well, let's just say that, as a 'no-player lookee' thread, I don't want to link to it from here... in case of any 'mistaken clicks' ahem that a player might make.

Look in the Rogues' Gallery forum and you'll find it easily.


----------



## Knightfall

Excellent updates, as usual. Keep up the good work, J. - KF72


----------



## the Jester

*Ambush at Bile Mountain II*

_*The first level of Bile Mountain, 10:15 a.m.*_

Ratchet up the intensity another notch, will you please?

From outside the entrance to the caves within Bile Mountain, the thunderous echoes of the titanic forces being unleashed within are clearly audible.  Cries of pain, the clash of metal on metal, the explosive detonation of magical blasts of fire and sound... it is as if a battle is playing out within the mountain whose repercussions might be felt hundreds or thousands of miles away. 

And really, isn’t that the case? 

If Horbin perishes- well, he is the Bishop of a realm thousands of miles away.  Lillamere, Thrush- are they not Baron and Sheriff of an area within Horbin’s?  And all of them- if they fall, will that not dash the hopes of the chaotic forces seeking to overthrow the Bastion of Law?

Of course, neither Horbin nor Lillamere nor Thrush nor anyone else in the party intends to die...

***

There is a brutal _clang!_ as Inoke charges into the thick of the nimblewrights, destroying one of them immediately and preparing to work on the rest.  But to his chagrin, one of them casts a spell and gestures and _reconstructs_ the one that he just destroyed.

Orbius curses inventively over the _telepathic bond_ that nets the party’s communications together.  _At least they can only each be _reconstructed_ once,_ he grumbles.  _These guys are playing dirty!_

While the Axars are distracted from their devastating attack on him, Horbin casts a _mass heal_ spell.  Meanwhile, the death snappers begin attacking Thrush, Inoke and Gerontius, their intestines whipping out to smack and ensnare anyone that they can.  The _freedom of movement_ that virtually everyone in the party has active proves its usefulness again and again.  However, the ooze octopi are deadlier still: each lashes out with a full set of eight tentacles, and each tentacle that hits delivers both a stinging acid and drains the very health and life from its target!  One of them tears Wankerman limb from bloody limb in a shower of blood and innards, and the other one moves in to engage Thrush.

“Wankerman!” cries Gerontius in rage.  He tumbles away- he can’t find any vitals on the nimblewrights, the ooze octopi, the gutling snapping turtles _or_ the bile ooze!  _Zis is not my day,_ he thinks grimly.  But upon gaining some distance, he grins.  _I am not out of tricks yet,_ he chuckles mentally, and activates his _ring of radiance_ to cast forth a _sunbeam_ at the closest enemy.  The death snapper makes a hollow hissing sound and charges back up on him, lashing out with its guts.  They lash across his body and snarl around him, but- again- his _freedom of movement_ saves him from a potentially lethal grapple.  Simultaneously, the Axars are focusing on Inoke and Thrush, trying to disable or destroy the two burly warriors.  Inoke charges one of the nimblewrights, smashing it into another, and in a series of incredible blows he pounds both of them to crushed metal, tangled wire and broken gears.  

Sybele and Chakar remain focused on the bile ooze.  While the warrior of Chaos continues firing arrows into the ooze, the dwarven monk pulls more chunks of stone from the wall and hurls them.  Chunk after chunk of stone smashes into the ooze; arrow after arrow penetrates it.  Sybele and Chakar exchange a glance.  _It is _very_ tough,_ acknowledges Sybele.

Chakar grimaces and leaps, tumbling through the air, into position next to it, muttering the command that activates the _contingency_ that Orbius bestowed upon him.  In Chakar’s case, a _bile shield_ springs up around him.  With the ghost of a smile on his face, he engages the bile ooze in melee, hoping that it will prove to be a fruitful decision.  

Thrush finishes off one of the death snappers and then charges forward at an ooze octopus.  The octopus has dealt several telling blows to him; now, he figures, it is his turn.  Indeed, he lands a single mighty blow on it before the monster’s myriad of tentacles pound into him, almost killing him!*  Thrush is batted away unconscious and bleeding.  

Inoke reels as four _polar rays_ blast him.  Between his _energy adaptation_ and his sheer endurance, he manages to survive, but he finds himself worried about a fight for the first time in a very long time- but he also knows, if the party is to overcome their adversaries, he cannot falter now.  He must risk it all.  He roars a challenge and charges another of the Axars, smashing it back into another of its kind, and hammers them both with his sweeping strike technique.  Tortured metal gives way, and both of the spellcasting nimblewrights go down.  “You’re next!” he calls, pointing at another of the constructs, but telepathically, he adds, [i[Horbin!  I’m not sure how much more of this I can take![/i]  Then he gives another yelp as a targeted _greater dispel magic_ strips him of many of his psionic enhancements.  His _schism_ fades, he shrinks back to normal size...

_You’re not the only one, my friend,_ comes the reply across the link.  

Suddenly a _crushing fist of spite_ appears, crashing down atop one of the ooze octopi.  Baron Lillamere, in marut form (via _shapechange_), follows this up- enhanced by _Marius’ double actions_- with a maximized _disintegrate_.  

Horbin has managed to pour enough healing onto himself that he can take a round of attacks (he hopes), so he steps forward to face the death snappers that are crawling towards the party, their intestines searching for prey to grab and crush.  He flies quickly on his _carpet of flying_ to the best spot he can find- and casts a _mass heal_.  Positive energy surges through him, several of his allies (though neither of the ones that need it most, Inoke and Thrush, are close enough to target)- and most of the death snappers.  Several of the gutling turtles have already suffered damage from one thing or another (such as Thrush or Gerontius’ ring’s _sunrays_), and all of them ones that are caught in the _mass heal_ explode in a blast of silver radiance.  This leaves only one of the turtles left alive- or rather, undestroyed- and it immediately charges in on Chakar, flanking him with the bile ooze. 

“This ooze is _tough!_” Sybele yells unbelievingly.  It has absorbed arrow after arrow after arrow.  She shakes her head in dismay and keeps shooting.  It looks like her arrows are causing it to leak fluid and are gradually deflating it, but it seems to have truly epic resilience.**  _Twang!  Thwack!_  Another arrow shot and another hit... and it still keeps going, lashing out at Chakar with a pair of pseudopodia.  Gerontius is tumbling like mad, firing _sunrays_ at the death snappers and trying to stay out of reach. 

Chakar blocks pseudopodia from the ooze with his hands, then back flips over the incoming gut slam of the death snapper.  Another blow from the turtle lands across his shoulder, however, bruising and burning him.  Chakar grunts and slips free as the intestinal cord attempts to wrap around him.  The dwarf never even hesitates; he maintains his focus on the bile ooze.  Its caustic spray is vicious and must be stopped, before it destroys more of the party’s gear!  He hears the worry in Sybele’s voice, but he eliminates it from his existence.  There is only the ooze and the turtle; but the turtle is nothing, it is only an obstacle.  _There is only the ooze._

Chakar’s fists piston out, splattering huge amounts of cytoplasm out of the disgusting ooze.  Again, he punches deep into it, and grainy _stuff_ flows out of the hole he makes.  Spinning into a kick, he forces a great gout of the stuff out of the ooze.  And one more blow, and it is deflated like a pierced balloon.  Chakar stands triumphant over his foe, and the party cheers.

To his dismay, Inoke sees more of the Axars are _reconstructed,_ and he realizes that if they get another volley of spells off at him, they will probably kill him.  _There are four of them,_ he thinks.  _But at least, now, they are close together._ 

First he _expands_ to large size.  Then- he charges, augmenting it with a _psionic lion’s charge_.  He smashes into the ‘odd man out’ of the nimblewrights, using his domino rush ability to push him into his allies.  Then- using his sweeping strike- he smashes two of them with a mighty blow, then another.  They explode in a shower of gears and springs, and Inoke cleaves, bringing his mace through and into the face of one of the remaining two Axars.  It staggers back, and another blow finishes it.  He great cleaves on through, smashing into the last Axar.  _If I can destroy it,_ he thinks, _they won’t be able to _reconstruct_ each other any more, because they’ll all be dead!_  His final strike is perfect, smashing into the nimblewright’s chest and crushing it, knocking it back and down into the water.  Another cheer comes from the rest of the party: things seem to be turning in their general direction.

But Horbin notices something that most of the rest of them, at least initially, do not: shadows under the water, following Inoke’s progress.  _There is something else in the water,_ the Bishop realizes with dismay.  _There are more enemies still._

_*Next Time:*_ The ambush at Bile Mountain concludes!  

*If Thrush didn’t have the Cling to Life feat, he’d have died here.  With it, he can reach something like -50 hp before he dies. 

**I seem to recall Sybele noticing that it was round 8 and that she’d be doing just a little shy of 100 hp/round to it for several rounds.


----------



## the Jester

*Current Party Lineup*
Here our the current crop of pcs.... many of them have cohorts.

*Horbin the Holy*, cleric 28

*Sybele*, ftr 8/psion 16/warrior of Chaos 4

*Inoke*, ex-bbn 2/psychic warrior 2/ftr 8/warmind 15/legendary juggernaut 1

*Gerontius*, rogue 16/ftr 4/invisible blade 5/halfling paragon 2

*Chakar*, monk 24

*Lester*, elementalist 14/warrior of chaos 4/divine oracle 3/contemplative 2/heirophant 1/paraelementalist 1/aestherite 1/divine ascendant 1

*Lillamere*, sorcerer 21/argent savant 1

_*Alcar*_, half-celestial fighter 2/cleric 20 (ECL 26)


----------



## Sandain

I have to ask - what exactly is an aestherite?


----------



## the Jester

Sandain said:
			
		

> I have to ask - what exactly is an aestherite?




Homebrewed prc.  The Aestherites are a religious cult that believes in all religions.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Aestherites cont'd*

Aestherites kick butt!  They get medium spellcasting level increases, but get about 5 new domains (though not the domain powers), spontaneous domain casting (three, I think), and eventually SR, too.  

Lester only has 1 level, but he took the luck domain and later took spontaneous domain casting feat (Epic), and is now a favorite of all Dead Heads, since he can produce spontaneous miracles.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Hey ! Is Angel of Food eaten by Aleax ? Or he managed to save his ... unmentionables ?


----------



## helium3

What happened to Wankerman? Who was Wankerman? Is that just a list of who is currently alive or who's playing in the game?


----------



## the Jester

helium3 said:
			
		

> What happened to Wankerman? Who was Wankerman? Is that just a list of who is currently alive or who's playing in the game?




Wankerman is a cohort; I just listed the pcs above.  I should edit in the cohorts, though... prolly try to do that some time in the next few days.


----------



## recentcoin

It seems to me that these guys might have better luck consulting the ole Magic 8 ball than they have with some of their communing.

2 cents,

RC


----------



## the Jester

_*The Bastion of Law*_

Veil knows full well that she is risking everything, but if she can pull it off... what a coup!  Fierce pride at her ability to infiltrate runs through her veins.

She is inside.  It took a great deal of work, and it entails incredible risk... but she has infiltrated the Bastion of Law.  Disguised as one of the warriors from outside, she joined a troop of men and entered the fortress.  The main building is well-fortified and has multiple layers of defense.  She has not yet been able to gain ingress into the towers of the Bastion.

For a moment, she half-cocks her head as if listening.  It’s almost as if her shield- the _Shield of Graz’zt_- is whispering advice to her.  Well, she has had help cloaking it in illusion and artifice, and so far it has helped her a great deal.  So long as she can keep it hidden, she can remain infiltrated. 

It is very dangerous, but she has a plan.  She is going to find out the identity of the nominated Arrow of Law, and she is going to do it by impersonating Cluma.  

***

_*Bile Mountain*_

_Twang!  Twang!_  Arrows shoot into another of the terrible death snappers, the first penetrating its shell with punishing ease.  The second snaps off away from the thick protection the turtle has.  Sybele shouts with glee at the wound she managed to inflict, and then Chakar springs up next to it.  His fists and feet are a blur as he smashes, strikes, kicks and crushes it!  Blood squirts from under the thing’s shell and its mouth gapes open in a gasp.  Chakar’s foot smashes directly into the death snapper’s beak, shattering the forward part of its head!  The thing collapses, unmoving.

Then one of the ooze octopi lashes out at him, thrashing him soundly with disruptive blows, inflicting massive damage.  Chakar can feel vile, unholy energy rip through his wounds and he screams in pain.*  He staggers and starts to fall; but Horbin casts a _mass cure critical wounds_ just then, and Chakar snaps back to awareness.  Gritting his teeth, the monk inflicts a _weakening touch_ on the octopus and then leaps back out of the way as a maximized _flame strike_ from Lester whooshes down.  

Horbin glances at the water, where yet more enemies seem to be swimming swiftly closer.  Though he can make out their forms, he cannot see them clearly; but clearly, more bad guys arriving in an instant is not in our heroes’ best interests.  So Horbin utters a prayer to Dexter and the water’s level lowers dramatically, revealing the other monsters: masses of tentacles seemingly without any other parts attached!  They begin climbing the now-exposed slope that is normally the bottom of the pool in the cavernous belly of Bile Mountain, churning towards our heroes across the slimy stones.  As they come, they fade into _greater invisibility,_ but between the party members’ various _see invisibilities, steadfast perception_ and _true seeing_ and the _synesthetic link_ that Sybele had established between the party members, the tactic is essentially irrelevant.  Lester and Orbius begin flinging spells at the monsters, but they seem surprisingly resistant to magic. 

Inoke carefully measures the strange tentacled beasts’ progress.  _Now that they are on the ground, rather than in the water, they’re moving much slower,_ his _schismed_ brain notes, and his normal mind responds, _Yes- let’s take out those octopi!_

His body suddenly morphs and shifts.  Tentacles burst from his back; he grows horrible and ominous.  Inoke assumes the _form of doom,_ and then he roars and unleashes a powerful Inoke special: a heedless charge mixed with a powerful _psionic lion’s charge_ and his _chain of overwhelming force!_  Finally, one of the octopi falls, crashing into the wall and going limp in a spray of mud!  But to Inoke’s chagrin, he can see that it is regenerating.  He roars again, in frustration, but there’s no point in dwelling on it; there are still multiple, and very dangerous, enemies around.  He turns to face the other ooze octopus just as it snaps Chakar’s neck with a mighty blow.  The dwarven monk flies back and lands near the edge of the staircase, dead!

“Nooo!” cries Horbin.  Another mass cure spell brings Thrush around and helps the cleric’s own wounds, but it’s too late for Chakar.  

“Don’t worry, I’ve got dwarf monk guy!” Sybele exclaims, leaping to the ground next to his corpse.  Her mind suddenly charges with psychic energy and a spark seems to leap from her to him.  His body goes stiff for an instant, as if electrified, and then his eyes flicker open!  Chakar groans, but is too injured to move. 

Meanwhile, Lillamere has turned his attentions to the oncoming tentacled things.  A maximized _disintegrate_ sloughs off the thing’s considerable spell resistance, and the baron grows somewhat annoyed.  He _shape changes_ into a dragon and a laugh rumbles within his vast chest.  “Let’s see, now,” he roars, flames beginning to lick at the corners of his mouth. 

Inoke, meanwhile, has charged the nearest enemy- one of the tentacles things.  His blows pound it mercilessly, and in a single set of attacks he slays it!  Then he turns to the other one- which Gerontius is currently hitting with a blast from his _ring of radiance_- and does something very similar to it.  

Suddenly, the only remaining enemy is the last of the ooze octopi.

As tough as it is, with all of our heroes focusing on it, it doesn’t last long at all.  The combination of overwhelming force and magic destroys it in a few minutes, and Lillamere’s flaming breath proves to be the proper remedy for the issue of the regenerating one, too.  Soon the battle is over.

“Now what?” asks Inoke.

“Retreat,” suggests Horbin.  “I just used up most of my resources, and I suspect that I am not the only one.”  Lester, Orbius and Inoke all nod confirmation.

“And I _died,_” Chakar notes.  

“We never even got inside!” Gerontius complains.  “And Wankerman is dead as well!  Ahh, what a waste!”

“Well, look,” Lester opines, “we can just come back tomorrow-”

“No!” Baron Lillamere rumbles.  “We have a deal, and we’re keeping it.  Even if I have to go alone, I will keep my word to Chaos.  Tomorrow, we storm the bastion.”

“I’m telling you,” Inoke says glumly, “you guys are making a mistake.  Do you really want to fight Marius?  And Prayzose?”

“No, but if we have to, we will,” snaps Lillamere.

“And I agree that we have expended too many resources to really go on here for now,” says Orbius. 

“Then we are agreed,” nods Horbin.  

The party starts walking back towards the distant entrance to the cave beneath Bile Mountain.  But as they near it, they come to a halt, for arrayed against them are a group of inevitables scribed with the arrow glyph of Law and a flickering _thing_ that seems to slide in and out of time.

“Oh ,” says Thrush. 

_*Next Time:*_ Whoops!  Well, our heroes have survived the Bile Lords’ surprise ambush for them in the foyer- but can they survive the ambush set by the forces of Law that blocks the exit??

*Ouch, the ooze octopus just added 30 points of vile damage to Chakar’s tally.  Vile damage, described in the BoVD, needs consecrated or hallowed ground to be healed. :wince:


----------



## Krud

Great stuff as always Jester.  I've been following this story hour for a while, but I'd like to chime in and tell you that I think your doing a great job. I love the combination of high level action and comedy. Even if unintentional, some of the combats have been hilarious. The Big A being dropped in one action was great as well as the timestop/reverse gravity/prismatic sphere smakdown on the other PC party beforehand. Keep up the good work


----------



## the Jester

Hey, Krud, thanks for the kudos! 

I hope you continue to enjoy reading this as much as we enjoy playing... things are definitely very 'epic' for this party at this point- we'll be playing again today, the second part of the assault on the Bastion of Law... so here's an update!


----------



## the Jester

*Ambush at Bile Mountain- the Conclusion!*

Our heroes are battered, wounded and tired.  Many of their most powerful spells have been expended.  And now they face another assault, a second ambush before they can make their escape.  First the Bile Lords, and now the forces of Law, have laid traps against them.  

Orbius and Horbin both recognize the flickering form for what it is.  It is hard to see, fading out of material existence briefly before flickering back for a cloudy instant.  The thing is an abomination, a _phane_- the cast-off spawn of a deity of time.  

_This is Marius’ work, somehow,_ Orbius instantly recognizes. 

Even as it rushes in, Inoke swings his club in a shallow arc, smashes it across its forebody.  The thing is vaguely centauroid in form, with a vaguely equine body supplanted by an almost-humanoid torso, head and arms.  It is also, to Orbius’ magically enhanced senses, blazing with mystical auras (as are the inevitables).  The Eye of Boccob makes the logical choice; he chants the mystical syllables of a _Mordenkainen’s disjunction._

***

_*9/6/371 O.L.G., 8 p.m., the Bastion of Law*_

On one of the walls surrounding the Bastion of Law, Lord Alyth of Fendobarz is watching the Field of Battle.  As always, things are at a stalemate, but there is a certain intensity to the conflict that has not existed before- at least, not while Alyth has watched.  The Arrow of Law’s face remains impassive as he watches.  His mind is on his old world- a world lost to Chaos.  Certainly, the group assembled here in service to Law appears able to throw the balance forever in favor of Order over Chaos.  

The door leading onto the wall from one of the towers of the Bastion opens, and Cluma strides out from it.  “My lord,” he nods in greeting.

“Cluma.”  Lord Alyth nods in return.

“How goes it?” queries Cluma.

“Ahh, you have not heard, then?  Prayzose has received word from our friend- Lester, Sybele and their companions will be attacking us tomorrow.”

“Are we ready for them?  They are quite powerful...”

“Of course,” Lord Alyth snorts.  “Marius has had plenty of time to make preparations, and he has worked to ensure that they cannot use similar temporal effects against us.  And, of course, we are ready to attack their homes.”

Cluma shakes his head.  “Wasn’t that one of the things that Prayzose wanted to outlaw at the casters’ conference?”

“Yes, but the idea got lost in the shuffle.”

“So it’s perfectly legal.”

“Yes.”

Cluma shakes his head in amusement.  “Our friend keeps us well-informed,” he remarks.

“Of course,” Lord Alyth retorts.  “He’s XXXXX.” 

“Cluma” maintains his composure, but barely; but a look of sudden comprehension passes over Lord Alyth as he realizes-

“IMPOSTER!!” Alyth roars, and his terrible sword _Judgment_ is in his hands.

Veil springs back, then sprints for the exit.  She knows that Alyth has found her out.  She rushes into the hall, trying to make her escape before the inevitable trap closes around her.  Alyth is shouting, both aloud and telepathically.  As Veil reaches a door, it swings open before her, and she skids to a halt.  

Devils and Galadorians block her path.

She tries to bluff them, tries to use her appearance as Cluma to trick them.  “Get him!” she cries, gesturing wildly at Lord Alyth.  “He’s an imposter!  He’s stealing the _Rod of Seven Parts!!_”

They- devils, Galadorian and Alyth himself- fall upon her.

***

_*9:05 a.m., The Cathedral of Dexter, Var*_

Alcar stands, shaken, in the face of the _aleax_ of his deity.  It has come to challenge him to prove his faith in combat.  It is a stern rebuke.  It has challenged him in the fane of the temple.  

They fight.  

Though the aleax has all of his powers and some of its own, he has one thing it doesn’t: the suite of _contingency_ spells that Orbius placed upon him.  Using the _greater contingency_, Alcar activates (surprise) a _Marius’ double actions_ spell.  This allows him to cast both _divine power_ and a quickened _righteous might_, and still make a full attack!  The aleax _heals_ itself and then blasts Alcar with a quickened _flame strike_.  

Alcar grins at the aleax.  “You can’t defeat me!” he declares.  “I walk in the Light!”

“You are called to task by the Light,” the aleax intones solemnly. 

Using the _double actions,_ Alcar makes two full attacks and blasts the aleax with a quickened _flame strike._  The agent of his deity staggers and rocks back, clearly badly wounded.  Grimly, it attacks him with a series of punishing mace blows and uses another quickened _flame strike_. 

And then Alcar strikes it down.  

A burst of confidence fills him.  _Forgiven._  It is like a shadow lifts from him.  _Thank you,_ he thinks.  The Light fills him.

For a moment Alcar basks in it.  He does not yet realize the magnitude of the gift he is being given.  Then, with a sigh, he opens his eyes and sheathes his mace.  The aleax is gone, as if it had never been.  

_I must find my friends,_ Alcar realizes.  _They are going to need me.  They must be in Bile Mountain.  I have to find my way back there, and quickly._  He considers his options for a moment, and settles on a _miracle._

He arrives just as the forces of Law and the party are engaging.

Most of the spells and effects on the inevitables and the phane wink out as Orbius’ _disjunction_ washes over them.  A scaly giant, clearly a half-dragon, stands with the forces of Law.  It is obviously one of Dekrasode’s brood.  Some sort of aura is extending outward from the phane, though- a flickering temporal effect that threatens to put our heroes into some kind of stasis.  Spells burst and blaze through the fight, and Alcar grimaces blindly- a _sunburst_ takes his vision- while Zyltha acts as his eyes, holding one of his hands and pointing him in the right direction while he casts _holy blasts_ at the enemies.  To our heroes’ dismay, the phane is flickering in and out of existence in a way reminiscent of the chronal repeaters that Marius has been known to use, and one of Alcar’s blasts has no effect on it at all.  The giant, meanwhile suffers significant damage but 

Our heroes pour it on, fueled by _Marius’ double actions_ and quickening abilities and rods.  Lester activates the bestowed _greater contingency_ that Orbius had placed on him, triggering an extended maximized _double actions_.  Then, using _metamagic rods_ to boost his already formidable spell power, he fires off a maximized _meteor swarm_ that pounds one of the inevitables and explodes to engulf all of them.  He follows this up with a _chained_ and _electricity substituted meteor swarm_.  This is more than the inevitables can take, and after the combined blasts they lie still, smoking and sparking as residual flames and sparks dance around them!  A mighty blow from Thrush stuns the giant, and soon it is withering under the party’s tremendous magical and physical assault.

Gerontius slides forward and thrusts his dagger into the phane.  He heals an incredible wound to it, for it seems vulnerable to his sneak attack.  Unfortunately for the halfling, as he sticks his knife in, he freezes in time!  Gerontius stands, unmoving, and the phane reaches out to touch him.  A whisper of laughter comes from it as a silvery radiance pours over Gerontius like a sheet of sand.  Then it is gone, and he stands still as before, but _something has changed._  What, our heroes cannot say; but the phane chuckles in delight.  This turns to a chortle as Thrush freezes in stasis from its aura.  

Alcar roars in anger, Zyltha still acting as his eyes.  “Foul creature!” the angel cries.  He casts another _holy blast,_ this one empowered, and the phane staggers, howling in pain.  Sybele, meanwhile, pounds the phane with a _crystal shard,_ dealing another good chunk of damage.  It roars in anger and pain again.  Lester finishes off the giant with a _horrid wilting,_ and Inoke charges forward and smashes into the phane with his mace, using almost the last of his psionic energy to perform a _psionic lion’s charge_.   Blow after blow lands, despite the phane’s temporal displacement, and finally the creature falls.

“Quick, grab up Thrush and Gerontius and let’s get out of here!” exclaims Lester. 

This time, they succeed.  Inoke, Sybele and Lester manhandle the frozen forms of their companions and they leave the cave beneath Bile Mountain.  Once outside, it is a simple matter to _teleport_ away, and our heroes return to the Temple of Elemental Good.

***

*9 p.m., The Bastion of Law*

“Well, well,” murmurs Marius.  Then, louder, he asks, “You are sure it’s the doppelganger?”

“Oh, yes,” Prayzose nods.  

“So they may be warned.”

“I doubt it,” the Emperor of Forinthia observes.  “Veil had not had a chance to get out of the Bastion, and my eavesdroppers have not heard any telepathic communications coming from her.”

“But _she_ knows.”

“Yes, Lord Alyth let it slip.  But as long as she is imprisoned, it simply doesn’t matter.  And the cells are shielded against telepathic contact- you know that- so she cannot tell our enemies what she has learned.”

Marius nods.  “It might be easier to simply destroy her and _soul bind_ her to ensure that Horbin or Alcar can’t simply bring her back...”

“Perhaps,” Prayzose acknowledges, “but she might be better used as a bargaining chip later.”

Marius nods again.  “Very well,” he sighs.  “And what else?”

“He has confirmed it- they will attack us on the morrow.”

Marius purses his lips.  “Is everything ready?”

“I believe so, but I find this strategy... distasteful.”

The Chronomancer chuckles.  “I know.  You argued for an agreement to ban such things at the caster’s conference.  But nobody listened.”  He shrugs.  “Well, they left it legal, so to speak; let them suffer the consequences.”

Prayzose nods sadly.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes try to find some help for their assault on the Bastion!  The time is coming very soon!!


----------



## Krud

Ouch, so many high level encounters in one day. The PCs must have really been running low by the time this last battle happened.

Poor Veil


----------



## the Jester

Krud said:
			
		

> Ouch, so many high level encounters in one day. The PCs must have really been running low by the time this last battle happened.




They were, ahem, a little taxed.



			
				Krud said:
			
		

> Poor Veil




Don't count her out just yet!  In another couple of updates, she will be the one that reveals the identity of the new Arrow of Law to our heroes- at least, sort of!


----------



## Greybar

I think this actually shows the great resourcefulness of the PCs, and how that really comes from more planning than they let on.  Having those emergency Contingencies is saving their bacon.

Where is Greater Contingency from, anyway?  I'm guessing that given the number of those that seem to be floating around that they have looser requirements or Orbius would be empty of 6th level slots just walking around.


----------



## the Jester

Greybar said:
			
		

> I think this actually shows the great resourcefulness of the PCs, and how that really comes from more planning than they let on.  Having those emergency Contingencies is saving their bacon.
> 
> Where is Greater Contingency from, anyway?  I'm guessing that given the number of those that seem to be floating around that they have looser requirements or Orbius would be empty of 6th level slots just walking around.




Researched by Orbius... strictly for higher-level spells that you just gotta have at a moment's notice.


----------



## Greybar

So is Orbius generally dedicating like 4-6 of his 9th level slots to hold these Contingencies or something?


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Contingencies last several days, so they can be cast well in advance, especially if Extended.

Greater Contingency can be found in Jester's Yahoo! Cydra Group.  Its in the Files section, under Spells.


----------



## recentcoin

So now it's become a game of "I'll see your Bastion and raise you a Veil."

2 cents,

RC


----------



## the Jester

_*The Temple of Elemental Good Water, 11 a.m.*_

Lester blazes with dozens of dweomers, both abjurations and enhancements.  He is thickly warded with what remains of his magical might- seriously depleted after the double ambush in Bile Mountain.  He stands in a thick cavern illuminated only by the sorcererous light that glows on his breastplate.  Before him is the strange column of eyes that he petrified in Bile Mountain, then brought back here to restore to flesh and use as a guardian next to the so-called gibbering garden that he planted from the ruins of the one the party defeated in Thixil Testa.

“All right, you!” calls Lester at the strange thing.  “What can you tell me about the Bile Lords?”

The answer comes telepathically: _I will tell you nothing._

“What’s to stop me from destroying you, then?” demands the L.  “Tell me what I want to know, or I’ll do it!” 

_I shall tell you nothing,_ the strange creature snaps telepathically.  _You are a fool if you think that you can destroy me.  If you attempt it, I shall _disjoin_ you._

Lester is taken aback by this threat.  “Well, that certainly is persuasive,” he allows.  “All right, then- you don’t really seem like you can move, and this place is locked against teleportation.  You can sit here and think about it until you’re ready to talk, and in the meantime you’ll be a fine guardian for the Water Temple!”

_Fool,_ sneers the thing.  _I am the wtcher.  My lords will destroy you._

“Why do you work for the Bile Lords anyway?” Lester asks.  “You should switch sides.  What do they do for you?  You have to admit, they’re pretty nasty characters.”

_Fool,_ the wtcher proclaims again.

With a shrug, Lester walks out and around a corner.  There he casts _pass through earth and stone_.  As quietly as he can manage, the self-proclaimed god of adventure slips into the rocky floor and glides to the chamber the wtcher is in.  Springing up from surprise, he casts another _flesh to stone_ upon the weird thing, and it has time only for a startled telepathic cry before it is once again a statue.

_I’ll have to figure out what to do with that thing some time,_ Lester muses.

***

_*4 p.m.*_

“We need allies, if we’re going to take on the Bastion of Order.”  Baron Lillamere frowns.  “I think we should call in everyone we can think of who has a grudge against Law.”

“That giant wizard guy,” Sybele exclaims.  She can’t remember his (or anyone else’s) name, but fortunately, Lillamere knows who she means.

“Mabrack!” he declares.  “Yeah, he’s a good bet.”

“And my honey,” she adds.

“Thrush!  Yes, he is probably up for a little excitement after the boredom of guarding Brelana for a zee last few months.”  Gerontius smiles.

“Perhaps the Eyebrarian would allow us to use the temporally accelerated demiplane,” Orbius says.

“What about Arion?” suggests Alcar.  “He is a powerful wizard.”

“He’s probably totally drunk right now,” Sybele chortles. 

“Where’s Veil at?  Has anyone seen her for a while?”  Lester asks.

“Veil,” snorts Alcar.

“Why not some demon princes?  They had an arch-devil,” Wankerman points out.

Inoke shakes his head.  “Listen to what you’re saying.  You want to join up with a demon prince?  Just because he’s against Law doesn’t make him on your side, you know.  I think that’s a bad idea.  In fact, I think your whole attack on the Bastion of Law is a mistake.  Think about it: you’re going up against the likes of Marius and Prayzose.”

“We’re not joining up with any demon princes,” Alcar barks.

“We have to attack the Bastion,” Baron Lillamere says to Inoke.  “We gave our word.”

“Some of _you_ gave your word, I didn’t,” Inoke says firmly.  

Lillamere sighs and nods.  “I know.”

“I won’t go on the attack with you,” Inoke says for the umpteenth time.

“I know,” the Baron sighs again.  “Listen, tomorrow I’ll _superior teleport_ you to wherever you want to go.  What are you going to do?”

Inoke shrugs and looks slightly lost.  “I don’t really know.  I guess I’ll take a vacation, maybe go home to Besta for a while or something.”

“I can’t do this either,” Horbin states.  “Especially now that I’m a Bishop.  I can’t directly oppose Prayzose, he’s my High Priest.  And this attack is going to be uncomfortably close to opposing Galador Himself.”

“Damn,” swears Gerontius.  “Well, at least we will have Alcar as our healer, eh?”

Alcar looks thoughtful.  “Actually,” he says, “I was thinking about taking my followers and making a frontal assault while the rest of you try to sneak in.”

“What!  No way!” the halfling cries.

“We need a healer,” Chakar states. 

“Well, a distraction might-”

“Not having a healer is going to get us all killed,” Sybele moans.

“I thought-”

“We need you, Alcar,” Chakar presses him.

“All right,” the Angel of Food surrenders.

“Well, even without demon princes, maybe we can find some chaotic extraplanar aid,” suggests Orbius.  “Perhaps some slaadi will accompany us or something.  Or eladrins.”

“We could try my faction, in Sigil,” Wankerman says.  “I bet some of the guys would be willing to help us out.”

“Another good idea,” Chakar nods.  “And perhaps- the _simulacra?_”

Silence.

“They hate Marius, after all,” the dwarven monk notes.  “And if my understanding is correct, they are _quite_ powerful.”

“Many are more powerful than the real guy himself,” Sybele states.

“We’d better get to work,” Gerontius declares.

***

_*8 p.m., Sigil*_

Little Alex is dispatched with a list of useful items that the party would like, and a handsome fee.  He also, unexpectedly, brings along his 15 year old sister Liz when the party summons him.  He seems to be trying to either set Liz up with one of our heroes romantically, or to engage her in some sort of financially rewarding work with our heroes.  (It is a little bit unclear, and perhaps it’s a bit of both.)  Nobody bites at _that_ piece of candy, and the party gets right to work.

When Orbius questions the Eyebrarian about using the demiplane, he discovers that it has been raided and trapped by Marius.  “Certainly, it is not safe now,” Orbius reports sadly.  “That could have simplified things a great deal.”

“It’s a logical target,” Baron Lillamere says grimly.  _We gave them too much time to prepare for us.  Damn it!!_

“We should rest for the night,” Gerontius states.  “In the morning, we will contact _everyone_ for aid.”

“I like it,” says Lillamere.  “Once we’re refreshed and our spells have returned, we’ll be ready.”

“Maybe we can even make a scouting trip,” Lester adds eagerly.

Exhausted from a day full of ambushes, our heroes sleep well that night.  They never truly relax, but they sleep.

_*Next Time:*_ Horbin and Inoke leave!  Allies flock to the cause!  The Day of the Appointment draws nigh- our heroes _must_ attack!


----------



## Krud

*Uh Oh...*

I sense a large amount of pain in the future for the PC's. Its not like law didn't see it coming 

I like the way things seem to be headed regarding the recruitment of allies for the group. Law plans weeks in advance with intricate scheming, while the Chaotic group is all 'Well, we're going in tomorrow... Hmm better do the ring around and see if any of the boys want to come along...'

It is funny how Chaos' unpredictability works as an advantage sometimes. Law just doesn't know what they will do.

I'm looking forward to your next post Jester


----------



## the Jester

Krud said:
			
		

> I like the way things seem to be headed regarding the recruitment of allies for the group. Law plans weeks in advance with intricate scheming, while the Chaotic group is all 'Well, we're going in tomorrow... Hmm better do the ring around and see if any of the boys want to come along...'
> 
> It is funny how Chaos' unpredictability works as an advantage sometimes. Law just doesn't know what they will do.
> 
> I'm looking forward to your next post Jester




Yeah, the whole unpredictability thing _does_ help the Chaos side a lot of the time.  The last three or four epic games have all been part of the same day- the day of the attack.   _Coming very soon-_ prolly the update after next, if the next one isn't long enough to reach the start of it all on its own.


----------



## the Jester

*Prelude to the Bastion of Law*

_*9/7/371 O.L.G., 9 a.m., Sigil*_

The day in the City of Doors starts with some hard drinking to aid the departure of two friends.  Horbin, Lillamere and Inoke go drunkenly through a portal to Gladsheim (since it seems likely that agents of Law might be watching their customary portal in the dwarven merchant’s attic on Tirchond) and then _plane shift_ to Cydra, near Var.  Horbin embraces his friends.  “Good luck,” he tells Lillamere, and then he uses a _miracle_ to ape a _greater teleport_ to bring him back to his Halls of Healing in Var.  Once there, he immediately begins pacing, worrying about his friends.  _I almost wish I could help them, but I can’t,_ he agonizes.  _And I have responsibilities here now, as a Bishop..._  His thoughts trail off as a clerk hurries up to him, an armful of papers in his hands.

“Your Holiness,” he says, “there are things that require your attention.”

Meanwhile, some fifty miles away, Lillamere asks Inoke, “Where do you want me to send you?  I’m using a _superior teleport,_ so your options are pretty much wide open.”

“Well,” Inoke says thoughtfully, “I’m going on vacation... maybe home to Besta... no, wait!  You can send me to a place I don’t even know, right?”

“Yeah, with _superior teleport_ I could send you to the place where your boots were made, or to the person who hired you for your first job... what do you have in mind?”

“Send me to the best island!”  Inoke grins.

Baron Lillamere chuckles.  “Good choice!” he commends.  Then the words of magic start to dribble from his tongue, and his hands sketch strange shapes in the air.  He touches Inoke and the warmind vanishes.  _I hope you have a good time,_ he thinks fondly.  _And I hope you come back to us after the Bastion!_

He sighs.  Back to Sigil, to the others.  First a _plane shift_ to Gladsheim, then a _greater teleport_ to the portal the bacchae use.  Lillamere is still drunk enough to activate the portal- that’s the key to it- and so a moment later he’s back in Sigil, with the rest of the party.

“Now let’s see if we can find some help in our quest,” Chakar says. 

_We should keep our conversations telepathic,_ Gerontius sends over the link.  _It’s more secure._ 

_The halfling has a good point,_ agrees Sybele, failing to remember her companions’ names (or those of anyone else), as always.*

A short discussion as to what to do first begins.  Meanwhile Chakar is asking nearby merchants and others who look likely to know about such things for leads on the Perfect Master Pan Lo, of whom he has heard.  One fellow stands forth.  He is tall and slender, but his muscles are like whip cords.  He bears dragon tattoos on his arms.  “I am the Dragon,” he declares.  “Why do you seek the Perfect Masters?”

“I am Chakar,” bows the dwarven monk.  “I seek to learn from them.”

The Dragon sneers.  “I doubt whether you have the necessary discipline.”

“Are you Pan Lo?” Chakar asks with equanimity.

“No,” admits the Dragon.

“Then I have no business with you,” Chakar grunts disdainfully.  “I seek Pan Lo.”

The Dragon sneers again, then turns on his heel and stalks away.

The debate on who to seek out first ends when Wankerman points out that there might well be Chaos temples with aid available nearby.  A little looking around turns up both a temple of the dead demon prince Orcus and one devoted to the slaad lord Ygorl.  Neither one renders much assistance, however.  “Well, then, let’s go to my faction house,” urges Wankerman.  “I bet there’s a guy or two in there who could help us out!”

The party begins heading through the grimy streets of Sigil, going into a neighborhood full of stink and ash and dirt.  The people seem more listless, less caring somehow, in this district.  There are fewer creatures from the Upper Planes and more things that relish despair.  

Suddenly, a group of four monks steps out from around the corner, directly in our heroes’ path.  One of them is the Dragon.

“You have not shown the necessary discipline to study under the Perfect Masters,” he sneers again at Chakar.

“Is Pan Lo with you?” Chakar asks.

“Pan Lo has spoken,” the Dragon states firmly, and Chakar throws a punch.  There are a blinding series of moves as the two move lightning fast throw blows, grapples, twists and locks, and then, suddenly, the Dragon is pinned to the ground face down.  He grits his teeth.

“Enough,” says one of the other monks.  “Chakar, you have been seeking me.  Come with me.”

Chakar’s eyes widen as the bald, nondescript man speaks.  He releases his hold on the Dragon, who stands smoldering with anger, but only bows.  The human begins to walk away.  “I will rejoin you as soon as I can,” Chakar tells the party, and then hurries after Pan Lo.

“Well,” Sybele mutters, “that’s great.  _Another_ party member out of the picture.”

“Hopefully not,” Wankerman replies worriedly.  “We need all the help we can get!”

***

_*Noon*_

At the faction house of the Xaositechts, our heroes receive a varied but always interested reception.  As friends of Wankerman, they are treated cordially, but the Xaositechts seem to be a little wary of having such high-profile people around.  Their spokeswoman ends up being Osmis, a centaur, with whom Wankerman appears to have some sort of history.  Things are tense for a few moments, but after some negotiations, she agrees to dispatch another of their number with our heroes against the Bastion of Order.  This new addition is named Blaze, and he is a gnomish sorcerer.  “After all,” he says, “the Bastion of Order certainly is a thorn in all of our sides!”

In return, our heroes agree to do what they can to find _the Blade of the Attractor,_ a legendary artifact of great import to the Xaositechts.  

“As time allows, of course,” Orbius interjects.

“Now what?” wonders Alcar.

“We go back to the Eyebrary and do some divinations,” suggests Orbius.  “That will help us find our way.”

There is a general nod of agreement, and so, half an hour later, the party reaches the Eyebrary (as they call it).  They update the Eyebrarian on the off chance that Boccob isn’t aware of everything they have been doing anyway.  As they talk to it, Baron Lillamere asks, “How much do you know about the Bastion?”

“A small amount,” the Eyebrarian answers.

“What can you tell us about it?” 

“You must defile the Pool of Law within it to overthrow the Bastion, as you know,” the Eyebrarian replies.  “Each of the Arrows has a small demiplane nested within the Bastion.  You can only reach the Pool from within those demiplanes.  Physically, the Bastion has four towers and a thick wall surrounding a main building.  It is strongly defended, by the most powerful forces of Law and their allies.”

“Allies?” asks Alcar.

“Master Control.”

“Crap,” groans Sybele.

The party watches as Orbius goes into a trance, casting his mind far afield.  Twice Orbius _contacts other planes_, once asking three questions each for Sybele and Gerontius and two each for Chakar (gleaned over the _telepathic bond_, as he is off with Pan Lo), Lillamere and Alcar; and then he _communes_ to verify the answers.  Unfortunately, many of his questions- especially those regarding the Blade of the Attractor- are met with “unknown” responses.

_Who am I speaking with?_ *Coila.*
_Which of your most powerful followers should we contact for aid?_ *Sheva.*
_Who is the toughest halfling rogue in the multiverse?_ *Smalldick.*
_Who possesses the Attractor right now?_ *Unknown.*
_Where is the Attractor right now?_ *Unknown.*
_What is our quickest path to finding the Attractor?_ *Legend Lore.*
_Which free-willed _simulacra_ are most likely to aid us?_ *Several.*
_Which specific sim should we contact for the greatest aid against Law?_ *Adrophillinus.*
_What’s the best way to contact him and arrange for a friendly meeting?_ *Sending.*
_What’s the best way to contact the guy I should trade my Libram of Silver Magic to?_ *Travel.*
_To where?_ *Elysium.*
_Will Mabrack aid us in our storming of the Bastion of Law?_ *Maybe.*
_Are any beings of mighty power angry that Lester picked up the adventure domain for himself?_ *Unlikely.*

After reporting the answers he has gained so far, Orbius takes questions from everyone else.  First, before he begins the party’s round of questions, he determines that he is speaking to Old Grandmother, the head of the Peshan pantheon- and a Lawful god.  Crossing his fingers, he proceeds.  

For Gerontius, he asks:
_Does gating or summoning work in the Bastion?_ *Somewhat.[/i]
How many Arrows of Law are currently at the Bastion? Four.
Is there a back door to the Bastion of Law? No.

For Sybele, he asks:
Are the Bile Lords planning to strike us in the next two weeks? Likely.
Does the cellar of the Bastion of Law have any magical wardings? Yes.
Is the Bastion of Law protected from teleportation within the building from outside? Partially.

For Chakar (remotely), he asks:
What is the weakest point of the Bastion of Law? Top.
I’m a dwarf but I’m also a monk.  Should I be drinking beer? Yes & No.

For Lillamere, he asks: 
Is ethereal passage possible into the Bastion? Little.
Who is the first Arrow we are likely to encounter? Four.

For Alcar, he asks:
What material is the structure surrounding the Pool of Law in the Bastion of Law made of? Bedrock.
Is there one among the servants of the Bastion of Law who would turn coat? Spy.

“Spy!” Alcar exclaims, upon hearing this.  

“Well, maybe things are better than we thought,” remarks Sybele.

After verifying the answers with a commune, Orbius has a few remaining questions.  He asks:

Is it possible to get to the Pool of Law through the ether? No.
Is a special key or something similar needed to transport from the demiplanes of the Arrows of Law to the Pool of Law? Yes.
Do each of the Arrows possess this key? Yes.
Are we likely to meet up with Prayzose? Perhaps.
Does Boccob support us in our efforts vs. the Bastion of Law? Yes.

“Wow,” says Sybele, “your god actually cares!”

“Yeah, usually he is pretty disinterested,” Orbius admits.

“It don’t matter to Boccob,” nods Alcar. 

“Now what?” asks Wankerman.

“We should scout it out, take a quick look at the scene,” says Lester.  “We should know the lay of the land when we get in.”

“When are we going in?” asks Gerontius.

“Tomorrow,” Baron Lillamere declares.

“Maybe we should go back to Bile Mountain,” Lester starts, but Lillamere cuts him off.

“No.  We did Bile Mountain for a little while, and now it’s time to keep our words and take down the Bastion.  Even if I have to go alone, tomorrow I go.”

“You don’t have to go alone!” Sybele cries.  

“Of course not,” Lester grumps.

***

4 p.m., Brelana

Thrush, alerted over the telepathic bond that the party shares, is waiting for them when they arrive.  Immediately he presses himself against Sybele and they kiss for a long, lingering moment.  “I’ve missed you, honey!” he enthuses, groping her ass.

“All right, all right, break it up, we’ve got work to do,” Lester says as the two of them start to grind against each other a little.  Embarrassed (or perhaps just excited), they stop for the moment. Then it’s a greater teleport to the edge of the Field of Battle.

As always, the site of the perennial conflict is frighteningly impressive.  Angels and fiends stand side by side against other angels and fiends.  Dragons soar overhead.  Strange smoking metal constructs line up in neat rows on the Lawful side of the field, while strange, swarming shapechanging things flow crazily forward from the ranks of Chaos over the front ranks of dwarven warriors on the opposite side.  Smoke rises in dozens of places, and bodies litter the field.  The battle looks desperate in a way that our heroes have somehow never quite seen before, as if both sides have committed all their reserves and the only possible outcome is annihilation of one side or the other. 

They stay for a time, watching as the front lines grow bloodier and meaner.  Eventually, they hail a strange looking creature that is clearly from the Chaos side of things.  

“You there, what’s your name?” asks Blaze.

“Jibber Junior,” the weird looking creature answers.  “You can call me JJ.”

“Jibber Junior!  We heard that you might be able to help us!”** exclaims Alcar.

“Oh?” JJ replies.  “Help you with what?”

The party and JJ talk for a time, during which the group explains that they plan to attack the Bastion on the morrow.  JJ seems impressed, and when the party informs him that some of them know his dad, he is further impressed.  “All right,” he declares, “I’ll do it!  Why not now?”

“We aren’t quite ready,” Sybele says.  “We need to finish gathering our forces.”

JJ looks like he’s starting to lose interest.

“We’re attacking tomorrow,” Lillamere assures him. 

“All right,” he answers with a shrug.  

***

The Xaositecht faction house, Sigil, 7 p.m.

With their chaotic credentials pretty well established, even Osmis doesn’t object to the party’s spending the night in the faction house.  While they’re there, Lillamere uses a scroll to issue a sending to Mabrack, imploring his aid in their forthcoming attack on the Bastion.  His response is heartening: What do you need?  I will help how I can.  Law must be defeated.

The party cheers.  Lester issues another sending to him: Meet us at the Halls of Healing in Var tomorrow ready to roll!  And bring friends. 

Mabrack’s response: What do you propose?

Lester sighs and casts another sending to the giant wizard: Destruction of the Bastion of Law!  We’ve been planning.

Mabrack’s response: I’ll be there.

Our heroes cheer again!  Good news indeed!

Orbius ponders for a few moments.  His divinations recommended the simulacrum of Adrophillinus, whom Orbius knows to be a Tirchondian alienist.  After considering his approach, he sends to Adrophillinus’ super powered simulacrum, hoping that he has identified it thoroughly enough for his spell to reach it.  Adrophillinus, it is I, Orbius Visionary.  We seek your aid in return for forbidden knowledge.  Will you parlay?

I will parlay, but I am very busy.

Orbius sends again: Meet us at the Crystal Chimes in Sigil, it is the safest, or name alternate location, preferably in Sigil.

Again, his answer is almost instant: No!  We will meet at the Writhing Worm on Vacant Avenue, tonight!

That’s on Tirchond, Orbius thinks uneasily, [/i]firmly in the grip of Law.  But he’s an alienist, and less likely to listen to reason than he is to take offense... very well, then.[/i]

Another sending, to Arion the Archmage, who replies (obviously very drunkenly) and enthusiastically agrees to meet in the morrow at the Halls of Healing.

One more sending, this time to Marius the Enigmatic, one of the simulacra of Marius that he made before Felenga’s tampering with the great crystal matrix in Darkhold made such things impossible.***  Again, he agrees to meet.

“Tomorrow,” Lillamere breathes.  At last.  I just hope it’s not too late, that we didn’t give them too much time to prepare.  I hope they don’t know we’re coming.

***

9 p.m.

Adrophillinus, unfortunately, proves too unstable to deal with.  So then it’s back to the faction house for more divinations.  Cast ‘em if you got ‘em, ‘cause it all goes down tomorrow.  It is about to be on.  There isn’t much time left for advance planning, not that our heroes really do that kind of thing anyway.

Another contact other plane:

Who are we talking to? The Sea Queen.
Is there an entrance to the Bastion through the roof? Sort of.
What means do we need to use to enter from the roof? Force.
What room isn’t protected from teleportation? Several.
What is the most favorable room for us to teleport into? Devil.
If we teleport into the devil’s room, will we immediately face any Arrows? Unknown.
How many Arrows of Law are at the Bastion right now? Six.
How long will all six stay there? Depends.
What’s the best way to get some of them to leave? Wait.
Where will the ceremony of the appointment of the new Arrow take place? Nirvana.
How many Arrows will be at the ceremony? Seven.
What was Veil’s secret when she last contacted us? Spying.
What was the most important thing that she learned? They know.

“Sounds like she got caught, whoever she is,” muses Blaze.  

“Well, that’s too bad, but hopefully they got rid of that damned shield,” Alcar shudders.  And if not, he thinks, eventually, I will have to destroy it myself.

One last round of divinations occurs, as the party sends Little Alex on a late night, last minute item gathering quest.  Again, some of these are for other party members, but most of them (not quite all) are relevant.

Who are we talking to? Sekolah.
Which direction should we go when leaving the devil room? East.
Is the pool above or below the devil room? Neither.
What spell are we most likely to face at the Bastion of Law? Many.
Can the Bastion of Law track us here and now? Yes and no.

Uh oh, thinks Orbius.

How? Spy.
Who is this spy? Unknown.
What’s my mama’s name? Sardra. (This one was asked by JJ.)
Should I trust these guys? Yes. (Also by JJ.)
What’s my favorite color? Orange. (And again, JJ.)
Who is a powerful demon lord that could and would aid us? Graz’zt.
Is Veil alive? Uncertain.
Who is the best cook on Cydra? Chunda Cornbread.

“A spy,” breathes Lillamere.  “But who?”

“This is not good news,” opines Gerontius.

***

9/8/371 O.L.G., 8:30 a.m., the Halls of Healing, Var

It will be today that they attack.  In just over an hour, our heroes will know the identity of the new Arrow; they will have discovered the terrifying fate of Veil; and the smoke will be rising from Brelana, from the Temple of Elemental Good, from Var, from the halfling shires of Valonia.

Though there is no sign of Arion, Mabrack is there, though, ready to fight, with his dog.  Hyliss has been true resurrected by Horbin.  Chakar is back, and Pan Lo is with him.  (Periodically, Chakar will try to get the drop on him, finally succeeding by getting a page to throw a rotten tomato at him.)

Dozens of spells to ward and strengthen the party are cast.  Anything that will last over an hour: Mind blanks, superior invisibility, mass elasticity, mass gaze screed, protection from spells, mass stoneskin and more.

Then they nap, allowing the arcanists and psionic characters to refresh their powers as if they had slept a full night, yet only taking a single hour.

Then, as the party gets ready to cast their final buffs before their assault, the simulacrum of Marius arrives.  Though he is unwilling to join them, he does give each of them a small figurine.  “These will only work once, but they will give you the ability to spell stowaway on a time stop,” Marius the Enigmatic tells them. 

“What’s that mean?” Sybele asks. 

“If someone casts a time stop near you, you’ll gain the benefit of it too,” the simulacrum replies.  He quickly takes his leave, wishing the party luck.

We’ll need it, thinks Baron Lillamere.

The short-duration spells and powers are cast and initiated.  Everyone gathers around, Mabrack reducing his size for easier transport.  Everyone grasps two of their companions, and Lillamere gathers as many round as he can and begins casting a spell.

The party superior teleports to the devil room of the Bastion of Law.

Next Time: It’s on!!!!

*This is the result of a Chaos touch.

**From a previous divination.

***This was the in-game justification for the 3.0->3.5 rule set change, which was only really necessary because of the multi-empowered simulacra trick.*


----------



## Cheiromancer

Wonderful stuff, Jester, just wonderful.

A nice long update like this sure does hit the spot.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Yeah, jester. It's killing time ! ^^


----------



## Knightfall

Excellent update, J. Waiting for the next post with anticipation. - KF72


----------



## the Jester

*Assault on the Bastion of Law!*

_*9/8/371 O.L.G., 9:45 a.m., the Bastion of Order*_

The room is laid with all of the trappings of a diabolic temple.  The air near the altar bears the tangy scent of blood, though the inhabitants are far too neat and organized to leave a mess on the block itself.  Still, it is clear that a neck could be laid down and head cloven cleanly from body across this sinister piece of stone.

Surrounding the altar, on alert for the imminent attack of our friends (and how would they know, really, given that the party is completely _mind blanked? hmmmm....), nine horned devils in smartly-pressed, identical uniforms await the alarm.  Their tactics are both simple and brilliant.  When the alarms go off in a certain chamber or other, three of them will greater teleport in and make a quick assault- then greater teleport out to the Galadorians waiting to cast various healing spells on them.  Meanwhile, three more devils will ‘port in to the alarm chamber and attack.  The odds are (or so the devils’ thinking goes) that the intruders won’t be able to tell one of them from the next, and so the nine devils will appear to teleport madly around the battle, always healed of the damage they just took!  The fiendish quickening linked to the altar should help them avoid a lag between arriving and attacking.  Yes, as soon as the forces of Chaos break into the Bastion and make it to the alarm chamber, the devils will make mincemeat of them!

Of course, the devils might also be called to join a general attack on the enemy.  Should they show up in full force, most of the Bastion’s defenders, not to mention the Arrows of Law themselves, are ready to spring the trap.  Why, walking into the Bastion is as good as sticking their head in the noose!  Yes, all contingencies are covered, reflects one of the devils, and there is no way that the enemy will be able to stand up to the full power of Law.

There is, however, one minor catch, the devil realizes to his chagrin an instant later.

It never occurred to anyone that, somehow, the enemy might arrive by teleporting in right here.

The crackle and spark and smell of ozone that marks Orbius’ chain lightning happens before the devils even realize how wrong things have gone.  With a cackle of glee, Gerontius slips his blade into one of the devils’ kidney (or whatever it is that sits in a devil’s body where a kidney does in a human; from the devil’s reaction, it’s clearly a tender organ).  Thrush hacks an arm off one of the surprised devils, and then Alcar utters a holy word.  The devils vanish, banished back to the Hells from which they came.  The steaming arm remains, lying severed on the floor in a pile of hot black fiend-blood.

We’re in! thinks Lillamere excitedly over the link.

***

*Elsewhere in the Bastion*

They’re here, Prayzose tells the others telepathically.  It’s time.  Grimly, he pulls on his gauntlets.  

I don’t want to fight them, he sighs, but they’re making it inevitable.  Unfortunately, if they oppose Law- and if they actually threaten Law- I cannot abide their interference any longer. 

For a brief moment, he bows his head in prayer.  He is about to be forced into battle with one of Galador’s angels.  How can both of them survive with their faiths intact?

***

*A cell in the Bastion of Law*

Beads of sweat roll down Veil’s brow.  She trembles, shackled to the wall.  What’s happening to me? she croaks mentally.

*Shhh.  Trust me.  It is for the best.*

The voice comes again, as it has for the last few hours.  She groans aloud at the pain in her hands.  Somehow, she is changing.  Here, shackled, her normal ability to alter her shape seems to be... gone.  Somehow, she is constrained by this prison.  But something is... helping her?

She glances down, and to her surprise she notices that the Shield of Graz’zt is still by her feet.  Touching her leg.  The hand spiked to the shield’s boss twitches slightly, and her hands twinge.

Glancing back up at them, she realizes suddenly that she has six fingers on each of her hands.


***

*The devil room*

There are two doors out, and without hesitation Alcar strides to one and throws it open.  Instantly, he is slammed by a great whirlwind of silver-green sand and energy.  It tries to force him back, but to no avail; he grunts and holds his ground against the strange temporal construct.  We fought one of these at least once before, he thinks, long ago, in Bile Mountain.  But these ones are stronger!*  Another one whirls up to the doorway, where is begins pounding at the Angel of Food, destroying a bestowed mirror image laid upon him by Orbius.  Behind him, Alcar can hear Zyltha begin to sing, and he begins striking back with his mace.  Hyliss and Thrush attempt to far strike the weird creature- but they both find that their blades sometimes go right through it as if it weren’t there!

Even as the warriors find their abilities to be hampered by the strange whirlwinds’ ability to temporally displace themselves, the newest member of the party, Jibber Junior steps up.  His strangely froglike grin stretches across his faced and his pupils dilate as his mind taps inot the power of Chaos with a wild surge and an anarchic surge both.  A blast of freezing cold seethes out of him, leaving icicles and a rime of frost all over the Bastion’s defenders.  Behind the two whirling constructs, a powerful-looking inevitable dimension doors away, smoking and almost destroyed.

Everyone pours on the blows and magic, but the whirlwind-like constructs seem able to avoid almost everything our heroes throw at them!  Disintegrates from Lillamere (shape changed into a planetar) -and Mabrack (shape changed into an elf so as to make for easy transportation and fitting within the Bastion’s halls) go through their temporally displaced forms ineffectively.  Weapon after weapon does likewise.  A few blows land true, but it is clear that luck is not with our heroes at the moment.  Still, those few blows count, and after struggling for a few seconds, our heroes manage to push their way past the doorway.  Sybele hustles in and uses her bow, shooting at one of the whirlwinds and finally destroying it in a shower of silver-green sand!  An instant later, Alcar uses a miracle to ape a Marius’ deconstruction on the other one.  He chuckles at the irony- destroying Marius’ servants with his own spell!

Then, suddenly, six Marii teleport into the room, surrounding our heroes.

*Next Time:* Things are just getting started!!  At last- *the Seventh Arrow revealed!!*


*For those of you who’ve been with this story for a couple threads, these are chronal repeaters- advanced ones._


----------



## Krafus

Alright, so the big battle has started... Say, when it's over, could you post the stats for the Arrows of Law? No need for complete stats, I'd be happy with name, race/gender, alignment, class(es) and level. (I'm especially curious about Marius).


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## omrob

That'd be nice ! 

This session ended with the 6 Marius's, and we were all a little freaked out....


----------



## the Jester

*The Seventh Arrow of Law Revealed!!*

Marius the Chronomancer is one of the most dangerous Arrows of Law.  Our heroes have been both looking forward to facing him (for, on the whole, they have a longstanding antipathy with him) and dreading it (for fear of his power).

Now, suddenly, there are six of him all around them.

Over the telepathic bond, Orbius says the words that everyone has feared:  _They’re _simulacra!

The worst possibility before them is that Marius has somehow co-opted his super powered _simulacra_ and gotten six of them to join him in wiping the party out.  Orbius shudders as he considers the implications of their arrival.  

_Nothing good,_ he thinks, _is going to come of this._

Of all the party members, the one who reacts the quickest is Zyltha, but her reaction is subtle.  She readies a _tonguetwister_ to disrupt the first spell that a Marius tries to cast.  She has never fought him before, but she certainly has heard enough from her friends to realize the danger that he represents.  

“You fools!” one of the Marii cries.  “You have brought ruin upon yourselves and all you hold dear!  As soon as you arrived, we began to attack your homes and loved ones!  Var, Brelana, your halfling friends- all of them!  And _you!_”  He points an accusing finger at Sybele.  “You have doomed Jezebel!”

“Uh-oh,” she stammers in reply.  

_That one is _not_ a _simulacrum, Orbius amends telepathically.

_Uh-oh,_ Sybele groans again.  _My daughter._

With that, the taunting Marius begins casting a spell.  Zyltha uses her _tonguetwister_ to try to trip him up, but he sneers and unleashes a green ray at Blazier, utterly _disintegrating_ him!*  The sorcerer is blasted into a few flakes of dust!

_Oh crap,_ someone says over the link, but Marius has barely started, as he unleashes a _prismatic spray_ that hits Mabrack, Orbius, Pan Lo, Wankerman and one of the other Marii.  Most of them are struck by one beam or another, but Pan Lo evades the one that lances towards him, and Zyltha and Mabrack manage to resist the effects of the rays seeking them.  Then a volley of quickened _magic missiles_ blasts into Zyltha.  Then he fires another _disintegrate_, this time at Zyltha, but she twists out of the way and he misses.  The green blast hits the wall behind her, blowing a hole in it.  

“Dexter’s eyes!” swears Thrush.  “We have to stop these guys fast!”  He steps up and, thanks to the _elasticity_ Orbius early cast upon him, he manages to unleash a full attack on one of the Marius _simulacra,_ and in a shower of snow he slays it.  He isn’t called the foremost swordsman of his age for nothing, and he cleaves into another, damaging it pretty badly.  

Orbius smiles ironically as he casts _Marius’ deconstruction_ at one of the undamaged _simulacra._  It’s almost poetic, using Marius’ own custom spells against him; but Orbius’ smile vanishes when the _deconstruction_ rebounds off the _simulacrum’s spell turning_.  

Then, the five _simulacra_ pull out scrolls of _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_ and read them.  As soon as the quickest _simulacrum_ completes its reading, the other scrolls, as well as all of the _simulacra_ themselves, are instantly disjoined and destroyed.  There is a splattering of snow, and then there is only one mocking Marius.  In fact, Marius, Chakar, Sybele and Thrush are outside of the area of the _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_, but everyone else feels the powerful anti-magic wash over them.  Orbius and Lester both have _contingencies_ in place, and _antimagic fields_ spring into being about them.  As for the others, most of their items survive, but suddenly all of their buffs and preparatory magic is gone.  

As Lester and Mabrack move in grimly towards Marius, with Mabrack returning to his normal size as he enters the field surrounding Lester,, a secret door opens and a group of Galadorian clerics step through from behind the party.  Meanwhile, Chakar ponders for only a moment.  _This fight is useless,_ he realizes.  _Our goal is to despoil the pool of Law within this place.  We must not waste our time with this battle.  We must seek this pool!_  He springs to a nearby door and opens it. 

Beyond it, a serene-looking fellow sits cross-legged in mid-air.  He wears a simple cloak and slippers, with a coarse cap on his head.  

Chakar charges in, striking with a pain touch, and hits.  The levitating monk opens his eyes and puts his legs down on the ground, then bows to Chakar.  Chakar bows back.  They fall into fighting stances.

“I am Ah-Koon, Guardian of the Chair,” announces Chakar’s foe.

“I am Chakar Clanguard,” the dwarven monk replies.  

They dance.

***

_*Nearby*_

Veil laughs, a throaty laugh, as he examines the dark skin of his six-fingered hands.  It is a simple matter to free himself of the shackles, now; they were not expecting to have to hold _him._

The door out.  Before he opens it, he summons Zurgle.  Surprised to see his master here, and acutely uncomfortable at being in the Bastion of Order, the balor bows deeply.  “My Lord!  How may I serve?” he rumbles 

Veil sneers.  “Open that door.  But carefully.  Be ready.”

The balor grins nastily.  _Of course, My Lord,_ it grates telepathically. 

_Of course!_ Veil thinks.  _The _telepathic bond!_  I can tell the others what I’ve discovered... but should I?_  She pauses for a moment, thinking.  _He’ll know if I tell them over the link.  And what will happen once they know who the seventh Arrow will be?  It might even drive them to despair... _

Then he reasserts himself, and Veil draws his wavy-bladed, acid-dripping sword from the darkness of his essence.  The door flies open, and a strange, perfectly symmetrical blob with various geometric shapes marching in perfect lines within it.  This, though Veil does not know it, is the Wrath of Law.

***

_*Nearer Still*_

One of the Galadorian clerics who just arrived, Gerontius realizes with a chill, is Prayzose.  “Hey guys, watch out!” he cries.  But he’s worried about his people- and using a _stone of sending,_ he issues a warning and a “how are things?” to the ambitious halfling leader that the party had met previously.  

Marius is _sidestepping_ away, using _disintegrates_ and quickened _magic missiles_ to good effect.  A quadruple helping of _order’s wrath_ comes from Prayzose’s accompanying priests, while the Emperor and High Priest of Galador himself casts some kind of epic spell on Sybele that her _mind blank_ protects her against.  “Surrender!” he cries.  “I do not want to have to slay you!”

And then a _firestorm_ followed by a quickened empowered _blade barrier_ come down, just to make a point.  And the point, truly, is made.

“What about our homes?” cries Alcar.  _I need time to issue a _sending_ to my temple on Gorel,_ he thinks.

***

_*The Halls of Healing, Var*_

“What the hell was that?” Horbin exclaims aloud, looking up.

_Horbin!_ suddenly comes over the _telepathic bond,_ and the bishop’s blood runs cold.  _Look out!  They’re going to attack Var!_

“Oh no,” Horbin whispers, walking to the window, full of trepidation.

Fires are burning in Var.  There are troops- many troops- in the city.  Forinthian troops.  Worse yet, there are gleaming metal insects: clockwork horrors.  They are moving in a long wedge like ants.  Hundreds, perhaps thousands of them.  Rage kindles in Horbin’s heart.  “No!” he cries.  He hurries from his office, heading towards the outside, but as he reaches the foyer an acolyte intercepts him.  “My lord, there are wounded!  They are being told to come here for healing!”

Horbin’s fists clench.  He has been maneuvered quite nicely.  _I can’t fight Forinthian soldiers,_ he agonizes.  _I can’t let this stand!_  He issues a _sending_ to Prayzose: _What are you doing?  Call your dogs off!  This cannot stand!_

The reply makes him grim.  _Tell your friends to surrender, and they- and Var- will be spared._

“The wounded, my lord?”

“Show me to them,” Horbin groans.

***

_*The Bastion of Order*_

Ah-Koon is amazing.  He seems to slide all over the battlefield, moving without hindrance much further than even seems possible.  His blows come lightning-fast and his technique is fabulous.  He has many tricks up his sleeve, from rapid stunning to freezing the lifeblood.  Technically, he’s better in his style than Chakar is in his.  But Chakar is not alone; Alcar and Wankerman back him up in his battle.  Alcar breaks off, though, to face Prayzose.  And Pan Lo?  Pan Lo critiques his every move.  “Come on, now, Chakar, you move like an old woman!  You can do better than that!  You call that a flurry of blows?  You must demonstrate more discipline if I am to train you!”

Alcar frowns.  “I won’t fight you,” he declares to Prayzose.  Instead, he casts a _miracle,_ and Prayzose and his retinue vanish.  

“That probably won’t keep him gone for more than a few seconds,” warns the Angel of Food.

Baron Lillamere orders Hyliss to Brelana to check out the situation.   His cohort _greater teleports_ away to his death and Lillamere turns his attention to the task at hand, but a glance at his friends reveals that their morale is starting to crumble.  Prayzose!  _And_ Marius!  If there is a worse possible combination, Lillamere can’t think of what it might be!  

Wankerman manages to pull a bullywug breakdance on Ah-Koon, finishing him off.  “The next time my apprentice is in a duel, do not interfere!” barks Pan Lo.  

Chakar is wasting no time, springing for the door that Prayzose and his allies came out of.  Looking into the chamber, he recoils from a _symbol of insanity,_ but his _mind blank_ (thankfully, he was outside of the _disjunction_ and he still has it!) protects him.  He _abundant steps_ through the wall- and finds himself fighting madly against a strange perfect ooze.  And he is fighting beside a balor and Graz’zt.

Chakar is thoroughly nonplussed, moreso when the demon prince winks at him.  But the Wrath of Law is powerful enough to stand up to them all, at least for the moment.

Veil reaches a decision.  _I have to tell them,_ she realizes.  They have a right to know.  And he’s going to know that they know sooner or later anyway.[/i]

Over the _telepathic bond,_ which (unbeknownst to Veil) only a few of our present heroes now share (along with Horbin and Inoke) thanks to the _disjunction,_ Veil cries out, _The Seventh Arrow is *INOKE!!!*_

_*Next Time:*_ What now???

*This was the first action of the game.  Critical hit on a quickened _disintegrate_ with a failed saving throw.  In our epic game, one of the table rules is that if you don’t roll all the dice on a given roll at once, I’ll make fun of you (after all, this is an EPIC game, right??)  Ouch.  I had to roll 80d6.  Poor Blaze.


----------



## Brain

As the player of Inoke I feel compelled to post here and ask if anybody saw that coming (from the readers that is)


----------



## Greybar

He was my leading candidate due to the shock implied for Veil, but I maybe only would have put it at 80% or so.


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## omrob

*w00t! Its ON!*

Now we get silly! 

Then we get mad!

My character was shocked about Inoke and still doesnt believe it.


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## Rikandur Azebol

Wow, treason from the Inoke ? Bad Inoke, bad.  

Graz'zt interference is bold and might be ... looked badly upon by folks, too. He should be ... careful. Or disarmingly charming, that is.


----------



## Seance

Be ready to see the big guns from both Chaos and Order, things are about to get Friggin' EPIC!!!


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## Krafus

I didn't really see it coming. All I really remember is Inoke refusing to participate in the attack.

Anyway, it doesn't look like Inoke will be needed - it seems Marius was able to beat down the party by himselves (sorry for the lame pun, couldn't resist).


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## Greybar

I'm actually wondering if our heroes are willing to back down.  Lawful types can get so worked up about oaths and such, but our Chaos heroes have fulfilled their promise to assault the Bastion at this point, and could duck back, true ressurrect people, and get back to fighting more winnable battles.  On the other hand, I suppose as long as Horbin is alive, he could bring back all of the heroes as gone as Law does get mean and nasty by taking special measures.

On the third hand, the fact that so much of the defenses survived the multiple disjunctions is a good sign.  Marius put a lot of XP into those simulcra and scrolls, and the chronal repeater has to be valuable, so in some sense the heroes are ahead on the investment level...


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## Sandain

Can we get a party update please, and who is playing whom?


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## helium3

Brain said:
			
		

> As the player of Inoke I feel compelled to post here and ask if anybody saw that coming (from the readers that is)




T'wasn't entirely shocking. Your character IS lawful after all, and there were strong hints that the 7th arrow was a party member. It'll be interesting to see how Jester keeps the party from imploding. Have characters played traitors within the group before?


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## Angel of Adventure

Yeah, its a tough deal.  We all like Inoke (he's one of my favorite PCs), but its hard to not look at this as anything other than a betrayl.  Time will tell . . .  :\ 

Other PCs in Jester's past games have gone against each other.  His early years thread deals with this extensively.


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## helium3

Well, maybe it'll turn out that he's been under the influence of something else this whole time. After all, he did go lawful only after handling the mace (t'was an artifact, right?) for a while.


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## the Jester

helium3 said:
			
		

> T'wasn't entirely shocking. Your character IS lawful after all, and there were strong hints that the 7th arrow was a party member. It'll be interesting to see how Jester keeps the party from imploding. Have characters played traitors within the group before?




Well, first off, yes, there have been traitors within the group in the past; hell, at various points the party has come to blows with itself and even split to kill each other (see the Early Years SH for details on the famous Dexter/Lyr schism, for instance).  And Brain is also playing JJ now. 

*bites tongue*

Won't say more til it all plays out...


----------



## the Jester

“We need to get the hell out of here, NOW!” shouts Sybele.  “They’re attacking out homes!”

“I tried to persuade you to help me prevent this at the casters’ conference,” Prayzose calls, sternly but regretfully.  

The figure of Graz’zt (whom we know is actually Veil, but most of our heroes do not yet realize that) is pressing the strange geometric Wrath of Law.  Beside him, Chakar strikes out with his fists and feet, and the balor Zurgle slashes at the perfected ooze with his evil blade.  

“Gather on me!” cries Lillamere.  “Let’s get out of here!”  

Gerontius slams shut the secret door to the room the priests came from, cutting off the demon prince, balor and ooze.  In the confusion, the halfling does not realize that he has just cut off Chakar as well.  Fortunately, Alcar does, and with a savage war cry, the Angel of Food charges _through_ the wall, smashing a great hole in place of the secret door!*  Then his mace is swinging at the Wrath of Law as he scowls at “Graz’zt” and growls, “You’re next, demon!”

“Alcar, no!” cries Wankerman in despair.  “We need all the help we can get!”

“You fool, I’m _Veil!_” ‘Graz’zt’ shouts.  “Now help me fight this thing!”

Meanwhile, Lillamere uses a scroll to open a _gate_ to the astral plane.  Our heroes, for the most part, leap to the astral plane while Lester and Orbius _greater teleport_ away to the Halls of Healing.  _We need Horbin’s help!_ reasons Lester.  _And if Var’s under attack, they need our help, too.  I need to check on the Temple of Elemental Good, too- and soon!_

He clenches his fists as the Eye’s spell whisks them away.  _They were completely prepared for us.  Inoke, how could you?!_

***

_*Brelana*_

Hyliss appears in the streets of Brelana, and to his horror the enemy is already there, as promised by the Arrows of Law.  Clockwork horrors, mechanical insects of gold and silver and copper and, here and there, other, more exotic types, are everywhere.  They crawl through the streets.  

Hyliss stays discrete for a moment, flitting from building to building and just gaping at the force that has somehow come here so quickly.  “They were ready for us,” he mutters.  

Then he hears a noise and whirls.  

The Judge of Worlds has come, its combat mode fully engaged.  The terrifying ultimate inevitable looms about 14’ tall.  At the core of its body is an emotionless metal face whose large, insect-like eyes seem to take in everything around it.  From the surrounding metal emerge various limbs and tools, some of which are delicate manipulators and some, deadly weapons.  The entire chassis of the thing is painted a dull, neutral grey.  

Before he _greater teleported_ away from the Bastion, Hyliss had taken a potent item from Lillamere.  Now he activates and throws it- a _Daern’s instant fortress._  It grows in mid-flight, becoming a huge deadly missile.  But the Judge springs out of the way with surprising, inhuman deftness.  

Then several metal rods bark and Hyliss and he feels a flash of agony.  Metal bullets blast into him, again and again and again, and chew him to pieces.

***

_*The Halls of Healing, Var*_

Horbin gasps as Marius and Prayzose appear.  “What are you doing here?” he cries.  “Get out!  Out!!  And call off your damned monkeys!!”

“Get your friends to surrender,” Emperor Prayzose demands.

“They aren’t going to listen to me!!  Are you insane?  Prayzose, you’re working with devils!”

“Even devils do the work of the Lord,” Prayzose retorts.

And Mabrack, Lester and Orbius appear.  With a savage glad cry, Orbius casts a _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_ at the two Arrows- and his jaw drops as a shimmer reveals some sort of protective spell that absorbs the _disjunction_ upon each of the Arrows of Law!  Roaring, Mabrack charges Prayzose, swinging a mighty blow that deflects off the High Priest of the Light’s armor.  

With an angry roar, Prayzos invokes a quickened _harm_ on the giant wizard.  Mabrack grimaces as wounds open along his arms and chest, but he bellows laughter.  “Is that all you’ve got?” he taunts Prayzose.

The Emperor’s eyes blaze as, with but a gesture, he invokes a terrific _burning ray_ that blasts into Mabrack’s chest.  It blazes into and through the giant’s huge torso, exploding out of his back in a rain of sizzling guts and flesh!

“All of you, get the hell out of here!” Horbin shouts again.  “For the good of the people, don’t fight here!”

JJ _teleports_ in with just then, as Orbius and Lester grimace at Mabrack’s corpse and _greater teleport_ away to the Temple of Elemental Good.  JJ looks at Mabrack’s blasted body and gulps.

Prayzose and Marius look at the demislaad.  Prayzose begins casting a spell, and JJ cringes; but almost as if by a miracle, the spell slides off of JJ’s meager spell resistance.**  Prayzose quirks an eyebrow.  “You must be formidable,” he states. 

“Too small to be worth dealing with.  Well, bye!”  Then JJ is gone, _bending reality_ to teleport away again.  

***

_*The island of Tduc*_

_Inoke!_  The voice, across the _telepathic bond,_ is angry and full of pain.  It belongs to Thrush.

_Hey Thrush,_ Inoke replies.  _How is it going for you guys?_

_Not too hot,_ Thrush snarls.  _We just heard some rather shocking news._  Pause.  _About you._  Pause.  _Is it true?  Are you the new Arrow of Law?_

_Well..._

Inoke hesitates for just an instant, but Thrush understands the meaning of that hesitation all too well.  _If the answer isn’t no, it’s yes,_ he sends grimly.  _Why?  Why did you betray us?!_

_I didn’t,_ Inoke sends earnestly.  _I told you, I’m not going to fight you guys, and I’m not._

_Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that now._

A mental sigh.  _Look, I’m telling you, I’m not a part of this.  I’m not going to fight you!  I’m on vacation!_

_Your vacation,_ Thrush sends, _is over._

***

_*The Bastion of Law*_

Veil, Chakar, Alcar and the balor stand side by side, facing the Wrath of Law.  Alcar keeps glancing at Veil and shaking his head.  He does not approve.  

Then again, the Light does not truly approve of his going against the forces of Law, does it?  But isn’t it like Horbin says- it’s the good that matters, not Law or Chaos?  Alcar cogitates while he fights, troubled.  Much has troubled him lately- the aleax, his slaying of the orcish paladins- there is so much that weighs on his mind.  Why must he be brought in conflict with those of his own faith?  

How _dare they_ consort with devils?!

He scowls as he notes that the Wrath of Law is regenerating.  He scowls further as it _hastes_ itself, as if it weren’t enough of a challenge as it was!

From the corner of the room, Pan Lo calls out, “Chakar, you are being ineffectual!  Show me your techniques!”  The dwarven monk redoubles his efforts, attempting to grapple the ooze but slipping off of its slimy surface.  A _holy word_ from Alcar banishes both the balor and Veil (to Alcar’s surprise; but he immediately surmises that it has something to do with that damned shield), but unfortunately it fails to do much harm to the Wrath of Law. 

The melee continues as, around the corner, Marius and Prayzose return to the Bastion.  Marius reads a _greater dispel magic_ from a scroll and collapses the _gate_ to the astral.  The two Arrows of Law exchange a glance.  

“We have to stay very, very mobile,” Marius states.

Prayzose nods.  “It’s really the key to the whole thing,” Prayzose agrees.  

They vanish again, and a moment later most of the party (less Veil, Horbin, Lester and Orbius) reappears at the Bastion, ready for more!  They pour it on against the Wrath of Law alongside Chakar and Alcar, while Pan Lo encourages his apprentice from the sidelines. 

Finally, Chakar manages to get a hold on the thing!  It thrashes about, trying to free itself, but the dwarf manages to ride it for a few seconds.

“That is better, Chakar!” cries Pan Lo.

The ooze throws him off after a momentary struggle, but having succeeded, Chakar knows that he has succeeded.  That is all that matters.  Then the Wrath of Law swings a brutal pseudopod that slams across his jaw with devastating force.  Chakar spits blood and shakes his head.  

JJ, meanwhile, opens another door, and cries out, “Oh no!  Big skeletons back there...”  He unleashes a psionic _energy stun_ and electricity crackles out over the giant skeletons, destroying one of them.  Then he swings the door shut, glancing back at the battle with the Wrath of Law in time to see Sybele fire a _crystal shard_ into it.  It shivers as the mass of psionic crystal smashes into it, followed by a flurry of hacks from Thrush.  Finally, Alcar pounds it with his mace and it is destroyed, smashed into a thousand tiny perfect ovals of goo that roll on the floor like beads of mercury.  

And just then, at the head of a wing of angels, Prayzose returns, Marius beside him.  Chakar springs for the High Priest of the Light, attempting to use the dreaded _quivering palm_ on him, but misses.  

“That chair!” announces Sybele.  “It looks important!” 

“It’s blazing with magical power,” confirms Lillamere.  “And that monk was guarding it.”  He pulls out a vial of water of chaos.  “If it’s a relic of Law, maybe this will defile it!”  He hurls the vial onto the chair, where it hisses and smokes but does not seem to do any lasting harm. 

“I can’t believe he betrayed us!” Thrush groans aloud, stepping towards the angels.  

“What?” exclaims Gerontius.  “Who betrayed us?  What do you mean?”

“Weren’t you listening to the link?” Chakar demands. 

“It was disjoined,” the halfling protests.

“Inoke,” Chakar intones, “is to be the seventh Arrow of Law.”

“Impossible!” cries Sybele.  “Inconceivable!  He promised that he wouldn’t fight us!”

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Chakar says firmly.  “What matters is this pool.  We need to find it.”

The angels charge.  

***

_*The Abyss*_

Graz’zt scowls, _greater teleporting_ to his Argent Palace.  The demons present on the balcony where he appears abase themselves, desperate to please him lest he destroy them in a moment of pique.

“Where are my balors?” Graz’zt demands.

“Uh, I, uh, do not know, my lord,” squeals one of them, a chasme.  

Graz’zt scowls, sending them scurrying away in fear; and then, with a secret giggle on known to the Veil part of him/herself, he wanders the halls of his palace for a few moments before he finds a suitable servant- another balor.

“Where do we go to get to the Prime?” Graz’zt growls.

The balor’s mouth opens for a moment as if the balor is about to question his master, but then he just nods and answers.  One never knows when Graz’zt will test him.  Together, they go through the shifting chamber and then _greater teleport_ back to the battle. 

_*Next Time:*_ The battle continues!


*Alcar’s player said he was going to “Kool-Aid Man” through the wall. And boy did he!   

**We use the “exploding dice” variant- on a natural 1 or 20, you roll again and add your result to 20 (or, if you roll a 1, you subtract your followup roll from 1).  If you roll a 20 on this followup roll, you explode again, ad infinitum.  In this case, I rolled a 1, followed by a 20, followed by some other high number, resulting in a quite low penetration roll.


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

This is one fantastic battle, please update soon   It seems like the heroes are getting pretty much beat, without killing anybody/anything terribly important...I really wonder how they're going to fare through the whole mess.

*would like to see stats for everybody, especially Prayzose/Marius *


----------



## the Jester

While I can't promise an update today (though you never know...) I can post the party's current iteration (at this point in the story hour).  Consider this the "extended party", if you will:

*Chakar* - Dwarf monk 25? (Not certain I have the exact level right at this point of the story hour.)

*Jibber Jr.* - Half-slaad wilder 12/anarchic initiate 4 (ECL 16- I let him start off having spent some xp to buy off his LA); CG.

*Veil* - Doppelganger mindspy; currently using the stats of Graz'zt in Fiendish Codex I; CN (or is it CE at the moment?).

*Blazier* - Gnomish sorcerer 16/metamagician 2; CN.

*Lester* - Half-elf elementalist 14/warrior of Chaos 4/divine oracle 3/contemplative 2/Aestherite 1/paraelementalist 1/divine ascendant 2/hierophant 1; CG (shading towards CN).

*Sybele* - Human fighter 8/warrior of Chaos 4/psion 16; CG.

*Gerontius* - Halfling rogue 16/fighter 4/invisible blade 5/halfling paragon 3; CG.

*Baron Lillamere* - Elf sorcerer 21/argent savant 5; CG.

*Alcar* - Half-celestial elf fighter 2/cleric of Galador 21; NG.

*Bishop Horbin* - Human cleric 28; NG.

*Thrush* - Human fighter 27; "the foremost swordsman of his age"; npc; N.

*Wankerman* - Human fighter 5/chaotician 15; cohort of Gerontius; CG.

*Orbius* - Human diviner 7/divine oracle 14/archmange 2/loremaster 2; cohort of Lester; CG.

*Zyltha* - redeemed succubus bard 6; cohort of Alcar; NG.

_And of course..._

*Inoke* - human ex-barbarian 2/psychic warrior 2/fighter 8/warmind 15/legendary dreadnaught 1; LG.


----------



## hippiejediz

Oops. Wankerman was fighter 15/chaotician5.


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## jensun

*A query*

OK, I ahve been reading this story hour for quite a while and loving it.  More updates please!

As a result I decided to go back and refresh my memory about some of the earlier stuff.  One things has me a bit confused.  The party agreed to attack the Bastion after the TPK disaster in Bile Mountain.  Horbin true ressed everyone with the assistance of the Delphinate.  They offered to provide the party with some gear in return for the party doing them a favour.  (i.e. attack the Bastion).

Now, my reading of the previous installments was that Horbin agreed to this deal.  So, my question is this, is Horbin really just a welcher and will the Delphinate extract their revenge for his refusal?


----------



## hippiejediz

jensun said:
			
		

> OK, I ahve been reading this story hour for quite a while and loving it.  More updates please!
> 
> As a result I decided to go back and refresh my memory about some of the earlier stuff.  One things has me a bit confused.  The party agreed to attack the Bastion after the TPK disaster in Bile Mountain.  Horbin true ressed everyone with the assistance of the Delphinate.  They offered to provide the party with some gear in return for the party doing them a favour.  (i.e. attack the Bastion).
> 
> Now, my reading of the previous installments was that Horbin agreed to this deal.  So, my question is this, is Horbin really just a welcher and will the Delphinate extract their revenge for his refusal?




Interesting perspective that. One could argue that by resurrecting the party he fulfilled his oath (albeit indirectly) as the people he resurrected are currently fighting the BoL. Also one may argue that when dealing with Chaos anything goes. 

Should Chaos win, retribution is not likely as the Delphinate got what they wanted. If Chaos loses the Delphinate will have bigger problems, ie Forinthia, Law, etc. Just my 2 Cu though.

I do however agree that there needs to be more updating though.


----------



## SeldomSeen

Chakar is not in the party?  Don't make him give you the sweaty dwarf armpit headlock.


----------



## jensun

Having read further through the thread its apparent that the party did attack the Bastion after the TPK but not very successfully.  Then some of them agreed to attack it again on Vuivuvi in exchange for shiny shiny loot.

Also, just spotted this little exchange which really should have alerted us to Inoke becoming the next Arrow.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Marius tells the others, I have a proposal.

They are thunderstruck by the boldness of it. Surely Marius approached a few others first, just as he approached Cluma; but the thrill that passes through all of them as he speaks the name telepathically is completely genuine.

That is a very interesting idea, Prayzose admits.

A page out of your own book, Marius replies.

*And by right of trial by combat... * Dekrasode lets the thought trail off.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


----------



## Krafus

Thanks for the party's current stats, Jester. Now could you give us the stats of the Arrows of Law (I think you know who I particularly want to see)? Pretty pretty please?


----------



## the Jester

Krafus said:
			
		

> Thanks for the party's current stats, Jester. Now could you give us the stats of the Arrows of Law (I think you know who I particularly want to see)? Pretty pretty please?




If the party manages to defeat them, I'll even post them in here. 

But if not, I'll still post them over in the RG no-player-lookee thread.

Which means, of course, that the battle isn't over yet.    

Which means- not yet!  Not yet! 

(Ok, maybe a peak of something over there in the rogues' gallery...)


----------



## Knightfall

Excellent stuff, J. 

I kind of figured the traitor was going to be Inoke. He was really against attacking the Bastion of Law. Part of me thought it could have been Horbin, but he's just not radical enough to join Prayzose and the rest of the Arrows.

Can't wait for more,

KF72


----------



## the Jester

*Run To Where??*



			
				Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> Can't wait for more,
> 
> KF72




You're in luck, cause here's an update! 

***

_How are we doing on resources?_ Prayzose asks the other Arrows of Law through their _telepathic bond._

_Fine for now,_ answers Dekrasode, and there is a general rumble of agreement.

Marius’ mental voice comes loud and clear through the link: _Don’t forget- do not hesitate to either call for aid or flee to fight another day.  And remember, another day to us can be an instant to them, thanks to my temporal manipulations.  We must not underestimate these people!_

Cluma snorts telepathically.  _For my part, I am eager to face our enemies in battle again.  They have bested me before, but the Rod of Seven Parts is assembled in my grasp.  They will not escape the wrath of Order this time._

_Do not let your anger overwhelm your good sense,_ Lord Alyth warns.

He will not.  Though it broadcasts its message on a different mental channel than the _telepathic bond_ that the others use, the Judge of Worlds is nonetheless able to both hear their conversation and project itself into it- though it rarely speaks up.  The Rod has made him a perfect servant of Law.

_Indeed,_ Cluma agrees. 

_They will not be able to maintain a unified front against us with the things that they care about under attack,_ predicts Lord Alyth.

***

Over a rather different _telepathic link,_ Inoke says, _We can end this all now._

_Is that a threat?_ Thrush snaps angrily.

_How’s the fight going?_ Inoke replies.

***

How indeed.  Our heroes are- somewhat- cheered by the return of Graz’zt, who appears with a balor beside him.  “Get out of here, you’re of little use,” the demon prince- or is it our old friend Veil?- snarls.  

Unfortunately, simultaneously, the wing of angels beside Prayzose leaps to the attack.  _Please, get out of there, we could call some sort of truce,_ Inoke cries over the link, but it is background noise as the celestials slam into the party, a combination of blows and spells, most notably a _blade barrier_ that slices through one room of the battle (which now extends throughout several chambers).  The party keeps duelling them, and Sybele cries a warning over the link.

_I’m going to make it a little crazy, guys!_  She grins.  _Try not to use your spells if you’re too close to me!_ 

With that, she uses one of her Chaos gifts and initiates a _wildzone._ 

Then she rushes as close as she can towards Prayzose. 

Marius, meanwhile, fires spell after spell at Alcar.  His _puncture_ rebounds off of Alcar’s spell resistance, but several of his quickened _seeker missiles_ strike true, and all of his quickened _magic missiles_ slam into Alcar as well.

Over the _telepathic link_ shared by the Arrows of Law, Dekrasode calls out, _I’ve engaged Lester and Orbius.  They were not prepared for our reception.  They should be easy prey._

Simulataneously, Wankerman grimaces as he runs one of the angels through.  “It’s regenerating!” he complains.  

“We probably need to use evil damage,” Baron Lillamere says.  He grimaces in distaste.  “But- thanks, Gerontius!- I might have a thing or two that will help...”

Sybele cracks her whip at Marius but curses when it goes right through him.  “He’s not really there!” she cries.

_And I can see silver cords- they’re astrally projecting,_ Alcar adds, switching back to telepathy.  _Which means that we can’t really kill them right now._

Lillamere grins.  “Well, even if Marius isn’t there, maybe I can get him anyway!”  He draws on the magic that flows through his veins and casts a maximized _seeker missiles,_ which flies first towards the chronomancer’s _projected image_- and then bounces back, rebounding from Marius’ _spell turning_!  The missiles blaze into Lillamere, but his _spell turning_ reflects them back!  For a moment there is a blazing volley of energy bouncing back and forth between them- and then the spell drains away.  

Emperor Prayzose, High Priest of the Light, steps up to Baron Lillamere.  “I am truly sorry,” Prayzose says, and proceeds to pummel the argent savant nearly to death with his mace.  In only a few seconds Lillamere is fearing that he’s dead meat, and then he feels a psionic power scrabble at his mind.  Fortunately, he has _mind blanked_ himself, and the power shatters against his mental shield.

Still... _Ouch!_ Lillamere thinks painfully, staggering back.  “This isn’t working!  Let’s get out of here!” he cries.

Chakar leaps in at Prayzose, covering Lillamere’s retreat and once again attempting to use his Quivering Palm technique.  Again the High Priest parries his strike, catching it on his mace.  Chakar telepathically tells the rest of the party members that are still on the link, _He is hard to hit._  The dwarf stands fast against him, though.  

“I agree with Lillamere!” cries Gerontius, tumbling in and dealing killing wounds to one of the angels.  Yet the wounds keep healing.  And the celestials themselves have begun casting a series of terrible spells- _implosions_ and _destructions_.  Our heroes shrug most of the effects off, but even those who survive suffer terrible pains and wounds.  

_We need to go somewhere strong in the power of Chaos,_ Sybele tells the others telepathically.  _We need to choose our battleground!_

_The Abyss,_ Graz’zt/Veil offers.

_Somewhere friendlier,_ Sybele answers, _like that plane with the guys who like to drink a lot._

Then Prayzose pronounces a _dictum._  The word, forged of primal Law, reverberates through the chamber- and caught in Sybele’s _wildzone,_ it is twisted and turned until everyone’s weapons begin to glow.

“What?” Prayzose says, startled.  Then he casts a _sunburst_, which does seem to work properly.

_Wild magic,_ Marius declares over their link.  _Well well.  We will have to find a counter for it._  From outside the area of the zone, he casts a _disjunction_, shutting Sybele’s power off.  But that is fine with our heroes; it enables them to escape.

“I’m ready to _plane shift_ us out of here!” Alcar announces.  Several members of the party are converging on him, but only seconds behind them come the angels- and Alcar is _not_ fighting angels of his god.  _I am sorely tested,_ he groans inwardly.

_Complications,_ Dekrasode tells the other Arrows of Law over their link.  _I cannot be certain..._

“We need to take out Inoke,” Chakar says grimly.

“We’re ready too!” Lillamere cries.  And then he and several of the others bunch up as he casts _plane shift,_ vanishing and reappearing in a rich forest.  The smell of soil is strong.  Grass stands almost thigh-high beneath and around our heroes.  Huge trees with shaggy red bark loom overhead.  A great bird squawks somewhere overhead, and the growl of a huge bear rumbles in the distance. 

“We need to _superior teleport_ to the others,” Lillamere says.  “Damn, this isn’t going according to plan.  And still no word from Hyliss.”

Prayzose telepathically tells Inoke, _I think that your friends are going to try to kill you._

_What?_  Inoke sounds startled.  

_Listen to them,_ Prayzose replies sadly.

Over the link that Inoke shares with the party, Chakar spits, _Traitor._ 

Inoke, a plane and half a world away, winces and sighs.  “Fine,” he says aloud, his voice wan.  He stands up and brushes the sand from his thighs.  The beautiful islander girls lounging about look at him curiously.  He initiates a _schism._  Then he repeat it telepathically, over two different _telepathic bonds_ simultaneously:  _Fine.  My vacation is over._

“Uh, Lillamere, before you teleport us,” Wankerman says, “you should look behind you.”

Indeed, for a _gate_ has just opened, and a strange elfin figure with eyes o’ gold and hair o’ silver gestures at it.  “Hurry!” the elf exclaims.  “They’ll be after you in seconds!”

“Who are you, and why should we trust you?”

The elf grins.  “You don’t have a lot of choice.  But I assure you, I am here to help.”

Lillamere makes a decision.  He takes a deep breath and walks through the _gate._  Quickly, Thrush and Wankerman (the two party members with him) follow.  

The elf chuckles and walks after them.  As he steps through the _gate_, it collapses.  

“Where are we?” Baron Lillamere says in wonder.

Our heroes- for they are being led in through several different _gates_ by several different beings, but they are almost all here- are battered and bruised, bloodied and wounded, but for a moment they all forget their aches.  The place they are in is _beautiful._  It is an idyllic glade, with a sapphire sky above a riot of colorful flowers and many different trees and plants.  Bees buzz happily and butterflies flutter through the air. 

“You are in a demiplane,” announces a new voice.

“You!” declares Alcar.  The speaker is a green-skinned man with blue hair.  He smiles at Alcar.  He holds a long staff with a glowing gem at each end.  

“You know these guys?” asks JJ.  

There are several of them- the gold-eyed elf, the green-skinned man, a swarthy fellow with a sooty apron and a massive hammer at his side, a set of triplet elven women all wearing a silver rose, a man dressed in purple robes with a third eye in his forehead, a woman bearing an hourglass constructed from bones (including what appear to be two elven skulls), a blue-skinned baby, a man wearing a tool belt dangling with bizarre implements, a nondescript man bearing a rapier at his side and a brooding fellow with a shield and sword each of dull black metal.

Our heroes, one by one, kneel as they realize that they are before the so-called ‘New Gods’.  These are Froth, the god of rape, necrophilia and cowardice; Zelman, the Emerald Mage, god of illusions; Tade the Maker, god of smiths and artisans; Garnet, the Triple Goddess, the lady of family, siblings and multiple births; Boccob, god of magic and knowledge; Coila, goddess of time and relentlessness; Carella, the goddess of humor, eccentricity and rebirth; and...

_Who are the other three?_ wonders Lillamere as he bows.  _And why are they helping us?_

_*Next Time:*_ Nothing much, our heroes just chill with some deities.


----------



## omrob

*Smackdown*

Awesome update...

some notes 

I remember us going for a couple of rounds and dropping a few angels, that got resurrected and healed, Marius and Prayzose weren't having too much effect cause they wasted some spells in the wild zone. 

I also remember Prayzose getting caught in a wild magic reverse gravity, and then some of Marius's spells as well. 

Of course the disjunction got maximized and doubled or something and did take out a lot of our equipment

Then Prayzose sunburst blinded a bunch of us.

But yeah, it was pretty much our plan to pull out and regroup after we destroyed the Wrath of Law, to try and get some surprise back. I remember how fun it was weakend as we were to still hold these guys off...

BTW I think this battle stretched over like 3 sessions.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Over the telepathic link shared by the Arrows of Law, Dekrasode calls out, I’ve engaged Lester and Orbius. They were not prepared for our reception. They should be easy prey.

. . . uh, I didn't see that coming . . .


----------



## the Jester

_Where did they go?_ demands Cluma angrily.

_Beyond our reach, at least for the moment.  Wherever they have run to, it is beyond even my ability to discern them._  A mental sigh from Prayzose.

_Perhaps you are reluctant to bring your full power to bear on the question,_ suggests Dekrasode, but the Emperor’s reply is instant.

_Of course not,_ he snaps over the telepathic bond that links the Arrows of Law.  _You should know full well that I do _nothing_ halfway.  Once this battle became unavoidable, I put my all into it!_

_Yet you have regrets,_ Lord Alyth points out. 

_Of course I do!  Some of these people are my friends, and all of them could have been allies if things had worked out differently!  But that doesn’t change the fact that, in the here and now, they are enemies!_

Cluma thoughtfully interjects, _Perhaps if we took them from a different now, we might be able to make them allies..._

_No,_ Marius responds immediately.  _I have tried that before.  Merely a Lester from another time proved... untenable.  Imagine if they joined their analogues- we would double our opposition.  It is not worth the risk._*

_We must press our advantage,_ Prayzose sends.  _Our assault on their homes is not sustainable.  In a matter of days or weeks our troops will be overextended.  We must finish this quickly._

_Time is on our side,_ Marius points out wryly.  _Those of us who need to rest and refresh spells and psionics, let’s away to my chronoplane._

A mental nod comes from Cluma.  _Only a few moments will pass here,_ he thinks over the link, _while you will have several days to prepare._

_Yes,_ Marius acknowledges.  _We can refresh all of our _disjunction buffers_ and contemplate whether there are any changes to the plan that we should make._

Lord Alyth adds, _The enemy is putting up more of a fight that expected.  I am impressed.  My plane had dozens of generals of Chaos, but few came near the powers of these ones._

_They are hardly generals of Chaos,_ Prayzose points out.  _Most of them do not even realize how strongly they are aligned with the forces of Chaos._

Lord Alyth’s tone is dry.  _They are generals of Chaos, whether they know it or not and whether you choose to admit it or not.  It is on them that the hopes of Chaos lie.  They must be destroyed._

_That is the one thing that is not in dispute._  Eagerness bleeds into the link from Cluma, or perhaps it is the _Rod of Seven Parts_ that he wields.  Either way, the other Arrows feel it, and the adrenaline already surging through their veins signs with enthusiasm.

_We simply have to find them first,_ Prayzose nods.  _Upon our return from Marius’ chronoplane, I will contact Master Control._ 

***

_*The ruins of the city of Goldstone, Dorhaus*_

The quickling sergeant races past the slow big folk with contemptuous ease.  None of them can catch him!  He is simply too fast for them to see-

The _lightning bolt_ is a bit of a surprise, but he still manages to fling himself out of the way, evading it completely.  But then there are four arrows crawling through the air at him.  He jumps to his feet and rolls out of the way, but there are more of the humans coming in at him from the left.  In the air to his right he sees the spellcaster that threw the _lightning bolt_ at him unleash a trio of _magic missiles_ at him, and these cannot be dodged.  They pepper his body with wounds.  

_There are too many of them,_ he realizes.  _I must tell the King._ 

He zips off at high speed, and in less than a minute he reaches Malford, who is atop the fortified roof of the old jail, which now serves as his headquarters here.  To Malford’s back, the valley pinches off and rises steeply into the mountains.  Before the self-proclaimed God-King the battle is visible: his rows of elven, half-elven and gnomish troops, along with the dwarven auxiliaries, behind the ruins, with the advance force of mixed orcs and humans fighting house-to-house against the oncoming force. 

“Thereisavast hordeofthe enemymylord,” the sergeant says, consciously slowing his speech to a crawl.  “EvenIwaswoundedby oneofthespellcasters thattheenemyhasdeployed.  Isaworcswith sunpowderweaponryintheranks oftheenemy butnotatthefront.  Iamworried thatourValonianorcish alliesmaychangesides whentheyseeforces oftheirWarlord.”

Malford absorbs this, a frown on his face.  His fists are clenched at his sides. 

“IsawForinthianImperial forcesincludingtrained drakessiegeweapons swordsmencavalrywithlances dwarvenengineersafewgiants andsomecagedbeasts thatIdidnotrecognize.  Alsotheforces hadbothclericsandwizardsorsorcerer withtheminthe ranksandIsawmanyof theirwoundedpeople beingpatchedupand sentbackintobattle.”

“Numbers?” Malford asks tightly.

“Iamnotsure.  Icouldnotgetafullcount buttheyoutnumberus significantly.  Iwouldsay theyhaveatleast tripleournumbers andtheyhaveexperiencedpowerful officersthatare considerablymoreformidable thatwehadanticipated.”

The gnome takes a deep breath.  “Thank you.”  He continues to watch the battle, and the quickling sergeant shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other.  Finally- after about two seconds- he can’t bear it any more, and he speaks up.

“Sirwhatshouldwedo??  Icancarryamessage foryouifyoudesire...”

Malford nods.  “I know.  Here.”  He hands the quickling a potion.  “Drink, it will heal your wounds.  And then return to your unit.”  He smiles kindly.  “They need you... Quaffalar, isn’t it?”

“Yesmylord,” the sergeant answers, surprised that the God-King would remember his name.

“Retreat if you must, but make the enemy pay for every inch that they take,” Malford says grimly.  “We will probably need to fall back to our first defensive position in the mountains above, but we won’t do it without giving them a bloody nose.  Now I think I had best go to the orcs.”

“Butsiriftheyturn onusyouareamighty prizeIdon’t thinkthatitissafe foryoutogotothem!”

“If I am there,” Malford chuckles, “I can prevent them from turning.”

***

_*Spell, the Delphinate*_

Zeebo is enjoying the services of his favorite girl when he hears the explosion.  It is prefaced by a long, loud, whistling, rumbling sound.  Then- *BOOOOM!!!*  It is incredibly loud.  

“I’m sorry, dear, but I think something has spoiled the mood,” Zeebo says.  He removes himself from her sweet embrace, throws on a robe and hurries to the window.  He can hear the sounds of screams and cries.  Drawing the curtain aside, he gasps. 

An entire building has been obliterated.  Only a crater, probably 20’ deep, remains.  Two of the neighboring buildings are aflame, and the storefront across the street shows massive cracking and damage.  Four people lay dead- in fact, torn to bits- in the street between the storefront and the crater. 

The whistling sound comes again.  Zeebo’s eyes slide to the left and he sees a thin metal needle flying through the sky at unbelievable speed.  

“Oh no,” Zeebo says.

_Zeebo!_ comes a _sending_, clearly from Estelias, _Hurry to Transmuter’s Park, we’re gathering defenders here.  There are more of these things coming in from Law!  They aren’t magical!_

_I’ll be there as soon as I can,_ he replies.  Gulping, he hurries to the dresser to get dressed.

_BOOOOOM!!!![/B]  There are more screams from outside.  

Oh no, Zeebo thinks again.  Estelias says they aren’t magic, whatever the hell those things are.  That means that the antimagic defenses won’t do anything against them.  What the hell are they, and who is shooting them at us?

The whistling starts again outside.  

*The City of Brass, Elemental Plane of Fire*

The great flaming steed rears and snorts flame.  It is the glowing red of hot coals.  Pasha Amhari Ifroobil leaps onto its back and grips its mane tightly.  

Instantly the beast begins wildly bucking, attempting to hurl Ifroobil from its back.  It screams and bellows, belches out a great gout of white-hot flaming plasma, and even rolls over to attempt to crush Amhari Ifroobil beneath its blazing weight.

But the would-be Archomental retains his tight grip, squeezing the flanks of the beast of Sustarre with his legs.  He uses crushing force; he knows full well that the beast must be subdued if it is to serve him.  And, for this hunt, he wants to have a truly incredible mount. 

Amhari and the beast wrestle, bruising and beating each other for almost an hour until, finally, it ends.  The efreet padishah has his legs locked around the beast of Sustarre’s neck, and its flanks are heaving and smoking with exertion.  All around in the blazing Orange Waste, blobs of white-hot plasma burn where the beast spat them out.  Slowly Amhari Ifroobil begins to stroke the beast’s head, cooing gently to it.  He whispers to it, and as he does so its breathing calms.  Its eyes lose their rage and take on a calculating, greedy look.  And when, slowly, Amhari unlocks his legs and stands up with it, it tips its head to acknowledge its submission to him.   

Amhari Ifroobil grins.  He has his mount.

***

*Faerieland*

The leShay smiles slowly to himself.  Before him, a pool represents the possibilities swimming around his target, Sybele.  She does not show up directly, but the movements of Amhari Ifroobil make it obvious.

The time is coming.  At the moment of maximum distraction, Sybele will die. 

*Next Time:* Back to our heroes!

*Quite some time ago- in fact, iirc it was 1-2 THREADS ago in the story of our heroes- Lester received word that a one-armed version of himself had shown up in his regular haunts looking for him, claiming to be his brother.  The party was puzzled, but ultimately dismissed the incident as some sort of weird trickery.  Though the pcs still don’t have any clues about this, and have in fact prolly completely forgotten about the incident, it was an analogue of Lester from another time stream that Marius was trying to manipulate and use against ‘our’ Lester._


----------



## Angel of Adventure

I remember that guy!  He popped up in Agent's of Chaos, near the beginning.  I just thought he was a simulacra.  An analogue, huh?  Maybe he's still around and I show him my new arm.  (Bet he'll be green with envy!)


----------



## SpadeHammerfist

*bump!*

Hello, is anyone out there, did you do a TP&NPCK and there's no-one left to tell the world what happened!?


----------



## the Jester

Well, actually..........


...I'm not going to say _how_ things ended just yet- but I will say that last night's exhausting, 10-hour session- session *NINE* of this battle- was, in fact, the Finale.

It's over; battle's done.  You guys will all be seeing the updates trickle in over the next little while, and I'll be posting the stats of the Arrows of Law in here (yes, here, not the RG thread).  

Make of that what you will.


----------



## the Jester

_*Transmuter’s Park, in the city of Spell, the Delphinate*_

Thick greasy smoke roils through the air.  It smells strange, similar to alchemist’s fire but more pungent, almost burning the nose.

“This will not stand,” vows the Delphin.

“We must defend the Delphinate from this thrreat,” growls the gnoll Churr.  He is one of the mightiest fifty of the gathered defenders of the magocracy.  

Zeebo can barely believe that he is included in this group.  The Delphinate is generally against uncontrolled- sorcerous- magic, preferring a measured (wizardly) study of arcane secrets.  But Zeebo is both a sorcerer and a wizard; and as such, he has found a reluctant acceptance among the arcane culture here.  Furthermore, he has been able to learn arcane secrets unknown anywhere else, and combine them with his innate, sorcerous abilities in new ways unseen before now.*

He is in fine company.  

The Delphin himself is here, leading the defense; and both guards and guardian constructs attend him.  There are many here that were dead, until Horbin the Holy brought them back.  Churr, for example.  Most of these are former Delphins.  

Estelias, the most beautiful woman ever, for whom Zeebo bears quite a crush, is there.  She is probably the most powerful enchantress on Cydra.  The collective power of the fifty is unimaginable.

There is a mental ripple as the Delphin’s _epic mindlink_ spreads amongst all of them.  Then they begin their defense with a myriad of _walls of force_ to intercept the missiles.  And they begin discussing counterattack.

***

_*A sealed demiplane*_

Our heroes gasp.  Alcar falls to one knee and bows his head. 

They are in the presence of gods. 

“Kneel, you fools!” murmurs Alcar.

It is awesome and awful, all at once- to be before entities as powerful as them.  Terrifying.  Exhilirating.  All at once.  The others kneel as well.

Then Boccob nods a greeting, and says unto our heroes, “Rise.”

Our heroes find their tongues as they return to their feet.

“Thank you,” Lillamere says sincerely.  “Thank you very much, and please don’t mistake this for a complaint in any way- but _why?_  Why step in and help us?  Doesn’t that put you at tremendous risk?”

Boccob smiles slightly.  “You are perceptive,” he allows.  “It is too early, yet, to show all of our cards, but the time is coming soon.”

“What does that mean?” asks Sybele.  

“It means that the conflict you are engaged in is directly tied to our aims,” Boccob replies.  “And if things go well, very soon _you_ will usher in the endgame.”

“I still don’t know what that means,” Sybele laments.

“We are going to help you, and you are helping us.”

“What do we have to do to help you?” Thrush inquires.

“You are on the right path.”

“And who are you?” Baron Lillamere asks the unknown figure wearing a toolbelt.  “No offense, but you don’t seem to be anyone that I have heard of.”

“No, I’m not.”  The figure pauses.  “I stand for civilization, but the time is not yet ripe for me to reveal myself.”

“I guess,” Lillamere says, “that goes for you other ones, too?”  He glances at the other figures that he doesn’t recognize.  One of them- a nondescript looking fellow with a rapier at his side, speaks up.

“It’s nothing personal, we just can’t take the risk of revealing ourselves too soon.”

“But in the meantime,” Boccob continues, “we can help you in several ways.  We are temporally accellerated-” Coila smirks- “so only a few brief instants will pass for you while you are here. And Tade will make you some gifts that may help you in the wake of the _disjunction_ that Marius hit you with.”

“That destroyed almost all of my items!” declares Chakar.

“You aren’t the only one,” Wankerman sighs.

“So what, exactly, is your goal here?” JJ asks the gods.  “I mean, if we’re helping, shouldn’t we at least know that much?  You’re aiding Chaos, I take it?”

“You might say that,” Froth chuckles.

“But for our own reasons,” Tade adds. 

“Just keep doing what you are doing,” Boccob declares.  “If you continue to press the Arrows of Law, eventually Prayzose will attempt to _gate_ in divine aid from Galador- and given the magnitude of the struggle that Prayzose is involved in, if his life is in real danger and Law is in danger of losing the Great War of Ethics, I predict that there is a significant chance that _Galador Himself_ will answer the call.”

Our heroes are thunderstruck.  _Galador Himself!_ 

“But... you _want_ this to happen?” Baron Lillamere demands, incredulous.

“Yes,” says the unknown figure with the black sword and black shield.  “We want to lure Him here- and then _I_ will engage Him.”

Alcar grows silent.

The nondescript figure chuckles.  “And then He’s in trouble, sure as my name is-”

“HUSH!” cries Boccob.  “The time is not yet ripe!”

“Oh, sorry.”  The nondescript figure blushes a little.

“Do you think you can defeat Galador?” Lillamere asks the mysterious warrior-god.

The response is slow in coming.  “I think so.”

“This has to do with the Hatching Cave, years ago, doesn’t it?” Sybele asks suddenly.  “When we helped hatch all of those dragons!”**

“Yes,” Coila answers.  “That was to begin weakening peoples’ faith in Galador.  This is the endgame, however; that was just an opening move.”  She adds, “You can rest here for a time, but lingering overlong would be ill-advised; you are dealing with a chronomancer, after all.”

“Isn’t he a follower of you?” Sybele asks.

“Yes.”

“Yet you oppose him in this war?”

“Correct.”

“Kind of seems like you’re doing okay no matter who wins,” Gerontius comments wryly. 

“There are some things you should know,” Boccob announces.

“I can’t believe you’re taking an interest here!” exclaims Chakar.  “Are you not called the Uncaring?  Why do you care?”

“It involves my interests,” the god of knowledge replies simply.  “Regardless, Prayzose can eavesdrop on your telepathic conversations, and can relay the other Arrows the information.”

“What!” exclaims JJ.  “How does he do that?  I’d like to learn that power...”

“In addition, they will be on you almost immediately upon your return to Cydra, and they will hunt you relentlessly.  You must be ready when you return, for your adversaries will move very quickly.”

“But we have time to rest and recuperate?” asks Gerontius.

“Yes.”  Boccob nods.  “And Tade should be done with what he can fashion for you by the time you awaken.”

“Hey,” Lillamere says to Carella (who seems to be a blue-skinned toddler), “tell me a joke.”

She smiles at him.  She points at his chest, then zips her finger up to his nose. 

Baron Lillamere laughs. 

Meanwhile, JJ has bounded up to where the nondescript looking man stands smiling.  The demislaad looks him over and asks, “What was your name again?”

The other begins to open his mouth, but Coila, Froth and Garnet together shout, “HUSH!!”

“Oh yeah, I’m not supposed to tell yet,” the figure says sheepishly.  

“I can make a bond between you that Prayzose can’t penetrate, at least for a day,” Garnet offers.  

“How about two?  One that is secure, and one that isn’t?  And we’ll use the non-secure one to confuse them!”  Sybele grins enthusiastically.

“Certainly,” Garnet nods.  

“Hey buddy, come here,” the nondescript man says to Alcar.  The two of them walk off together for a few moments. Talking.  Then there is a flash of light.  The two walk back together- and Alcar is changed.  His clothing has changed from white and gold to grey and silver; his holy symbol is now a rapier.  

“Wow,” says Wankerman.

Alcar has converted to the nameless god.

_*Next Time:*_  Which of our heroes will swear to the gods, and to which ones?  And which of our heroes will die while they hang out with deities??


*Two words: Ultimate Magus.

**The adventure of the Hatching Caves has not yet been chronicled in a story hour.  Alas.  It will be eventually, however.


----------



## Krafus

Y'know, considering the heroes have been screwed with that _disjunction_, I hope they'll return the favor...


----------



## omrob

Krafus said:
			
		

> Y'know, considering the heroes have been screwed with that _disjunction_, I hope they'll return the favor...





What and ruin all the awesome epic loot? 

HEHEHEHEHE!

Oh yeah...and CLUMA? 

Hes a B!@#h!


----------



## the Jester

And as promised, the stats for the Arrows start here! 

We'll start with Cluma.  Please note that all Arrow of Law stats will reflect their condition at the start of this most epic battle.


*CLUMA---- CR 24*

_*N.B. *_Cluma has the following spells and effects going at the start of combat:
CL 28th- _fly, shape change, shield of law, wind walk_ (all produced by the _Rod of Seven Parts_).
CL 10th- _haste_ (Marius), _freedom of movement _(elixir).
CL 26th (from Prayzose)- _mass death ward, disjunction buffer
_
Male human sorcerer 1/fighter 9/guardian of order 14
LN medium humanoid (human, lawful)
*Init* +5; *Senses* detect chaos, Listen -1, Spot -1
*Languages* Peshan, Forinthian
----
*AC* 38 (+6 sacred vs. Chaotic outsiders), touch 16, flat-footed 37; heavy fortification, _shield of law_
*Hit Dice* 1d4 + 9d10 +14d12 +96 (270 hp)
*Resist* acid 30, cold 30, electricity 30, fire 30, sonic 30;* SR *25 (vs. chaotic spells or spells cast by chaotic creatures only)
*Immune* death, gifts of Chaos, mental influence, _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_; _freedom of movement_
*Fort* +23, *Ref* +14, *Will *+17; +6 against all Chaotic spells; evasion
----
*Speed* 40 ft. (8 squares), fly 60 ft. (12 squares) 
*Melee* bastard sword +41/41/36/31/26 (1d10+21 plus 1d6 cold/17-20[+2d8] plus 1d10 cold and 2d6 vs. chaotic creatures)
*Range* composite longbow +25/25/20/15/10 (1d8+7/x3)
*Base Atk* +21 epic; *Grp* +31; _freedom of movement_
*Space* 5 ft.; *Reach* 5 ft. 
*Atk Options* Bounding Assault, Power Attack, smite chaos 7/day, Spring Attack
*Combat Gear* _The Rod of Seven Parts_ (fully assembled), _wand of fireballs_ (CL 10th; 25 charges), _potion of cure serious wounds_ (CL 15) (3), _elixir of heal_ (CL 15), _wand of ray of enfeeblement_ (CL 15th; 7 charges)
*Class Spells Known (CL 1):*
--1st level- _protection from chaos, true strike_;
--0th level-_ arcane mark, daze, detect magic, ray of frost_. 
*Spell-like Abilities (CL 24):* 2/day- _dispel chaos._
----
*Str 30* (includes +4 inherent bonus), *Dex* 13, *Con* 18, *Int* 10, *Wis *8 (includes +2 inherent bonus), *Cha* 22
*Feats* Bounding Assault, Dodge, Exotic Weapon Proficiency (bastard sword), Extra Smiting, Greater Weapon Focus (bastard sword), Improved Critical (bastard sword), Improved Initiative, Leadership, Mobility, Power Attack, Severe Critical, Spring Attack, Weapon Focus (bastard sword), Weapon Specialization (bastard sword)
*Epic Feats* Epic Weapon Focus (bastard sword), Epic Weapon Specialization (bastard sword)
*Skills* Climb +18, Concentration +13, Diplomacy +32, Intimidate +22, Jump +18, Ride +13, Sense Motive +7, Swim +18
*Possessions* helmet of charisma +6, +4 heavy fortification full plate armor, +5 icy burst axiomatic deadly [+2d8] bastard sword, +2 mighty(+5) composite longbow, +3 heavy steel shield, ring of universal energy resistance 30, bracers of endurance +4, belt of giant strength +6, ring of evasion, amulet of natural armor +5, 60 arrows, +2 adamantine bastard sword, cold iron +1 holy bastard sword. 

*Shield of Law:* As long as this spell is in effect, anyone striking Cluma in melee must make a Will save, DC 28, or be slowed.

*The Rod of Seven Parts:* _Details redacted due to potential ongoing campaign relevence_


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Cluma was certainly the least powerful of the arrows.  He has a habit of talking big smack before he gets cut down.

We PCs joke that he actually _lowers_ the CR of his friends when he enters battle.


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Cluma was certainly the least powerful of the arrows.  He has a habit of talking big smack before he gets cut down.
> 
> We PCs joke that he actually _lowers_ the CR of his friends when he enters battle.




[whiney Cluma]"Shut up!  I'm an Arrow of Law!"[/whiney Cluma]


----------



## Angel of Adventure

That's funny, Jester.  I wouldn't be suprised if Cluma did have a reputation for whinning and nit-picking.

As far as the arrows go, Marius and Cluma were probably the most despised, though they were all despised to some extent.  Prayzose and Inoeke are probably the ones everyone is least looking forward to dealing with.  Prayzose brought Lester back from the dead many, many years ago (in game and real time), and Inoeke, . . . , well he's just a bit misguided.


----------



## Greybar

It is disappointing if the Arrows of Law broke the cardinal rule of "Let's Split Up!".  But as lawful as they are there are clearly multiple motives in play.  Looking forward to hearing more of the fight(s)...


----------



## Seance

"It is disappointing if the Arrows of Law broke the cardinal rule of "Let's Split Up!". But as lawful as they are there are clearly multiple motives in play. Looking forward to hearing more of the fight(s)..."

The forces of Chaos are doing the unexpected and staying together (yes even Alcar!) and pulling the old 'stick and move'.

oh yeah...BUMP!!


----------



## the Jester

Okay, here's the next Arrow of Law- Lord Alyth.

No update just yet, as I've been totally cracked out on Baldur's Gate 2- I'll try to get one out this week sometime, though!  (After all, the death of a pc at the hands of a deity ally- well, okay, not his HANDS- is a rare treat round here!)

*
LORD ALYTH OF FENDOBARZ--- CR 28 *

Lord Alyth begins play with the following spells and effects in play:

CL 10- _haste_
CL 26- _mass death ward, disjunction buffer_
CL 14- _darkvision, mass surefooted stride, protection from cold, electricity, fire and sonic_

Male human ranger (variant) 28
LN medium humanoid (human, lawful)
*Init* +9; *Senses* darkvision; Listen +35 (+37 vs. chaotic), Spot +35 (+37 vs. chaotic)
*Aura* overwhelming lawful
*Languages* Fedobarth, Forinthian, Infernal
----
*AC *36 (+8 armor, +4 shield, deflection +4, haste +1, natural +5), touch 24, flat-footed 32; Dodge, Mobility
*Hit Dice* 28d8+196 (333 hp) 
*Immune* cold (120 hp), electricity (120 hp), fire (120 hp), sonic (120 hp), _Mordenkainen’s disjunction; freedom of movement_
*Fort* +23, *Ref* +21, *Will* +17; evasion, _freedom of movement_
----
*Speed* 60 ft. (12 squares) 
*Melee* longsword +36/36/31/26/21 (+12 vs. chaotic) (1d8+13/19-20 plus 1d6 electricity) and shortsword +36/31/26/21 (+12 vs. chaotic) (1d6+9/17-20)
*Base Atk* +24; *Grp *+31
*Space* 5 ft.; *Reach* 5 ft. 
*Atk Options* Combat Reflexes, favored enemy (chaotic) +12, Greater Two-Weapon Fighting, Quickdraw, Quick-Strike, Spring Attack, Two-Weapon Rend
*Special Actions* wild empathy
*Class Spells Prepared (CL 14)* (save DC 14 + spell level): 

4th level- _commune with nature, cure serious wounds, implacable pursuer, mass surefooted stride*;_
3rd level- _blade storm, darkvision*, neutralize poison, tree shape_
2nd level- _protection from cold*, protection from electricity*, protection from fire*, protection from sonic*;_
1st level- _longstrider, jump (2), speak with animals._
----
*Str* 25 (includes +3 inherent bonus), *Dex* 21 (includes +5 inherent bonus), *Con* 24 (includes +5 inherent bonus),* Int *11, *Wis* 18, *Cha* 18
*SQ* camouflage, hide in plain sight, swift tracker, woodland stride
*Feats* Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Endurance, Greater Two-Weapon Fighting, Hated Enemy (chaotic), Improved Initiative, Improved Two-Weapon Fighting, Iron Will, Mobility, Quickdraw, Quick-Strike, Spring Attack, Track, Two-Weapon Rend, Two-Weapon Fighting
*Skills* Bluff +4 (+6 vs. chaotic), Concentration +22, Handle Animal +20, Hide +36, Listen +35 (+37 vs. chaotic), Move Silently +36, Ride +36, Sense Motive +4 (+6 vs. chaotic), Spot +35 (+37 vs. chaotic), Survival +35 (+37 vs. chaotic)
*Possessions* _Judgment_ (+6 axiomatic shock longsword) and _Execution_ (+6 axiomatic keen shortsword), _bracers of armor +8, sphere of protection +4, ring of protection +4, periapt of wisdom +4, belt of endurance +6, gauntlets of giant strength +6, boots of teleportation, cloak of resistance +5, ring of freedom of movement, amulet of natural armor +5_


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Al was LN, huh?  I think we counted him in the evil camp.

Jester, could you give an AL breakdown of the arrows (i.e. 2 - LG, 2 LN, etc.)?

Names aren't necessary, if you would rather reveal later.


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Al was LN, huh?  I think we counted him in the evil camp.
> 
> Jester, could you give an AL breakdown of the arrows (i.e. 2 - LG, 2 LN, etc.)?
> 
> Names aren't necessary, if you would rather reveal later.




Sure!  I'm posting from my break at work, so this is from memory, but......

LE- Dekrasode, Marius, (Asmodeus)

LN- Lord Alyth, Judge of Worlds, Cluma

LG- Prayzose, (Inoke)

This alone might give you a clue as to just WHY Prayzose approached Inoke to fill Asmodeus' shoes...


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Interesting about Marius, as that settles a mini-depate regard what his AL was.  Most thought he was evil, but I wasn't sure as we never got an aura reading.  

Was Marius always evil, or did he, uh, mature to more savage perspective on law?


----------



## Alcar

*??????*

Is it just me, or did Alyth not have ANY epic feats? At least Cluma did.. wtf!!


----------



## the Jester

Two Weapon Rend was epic, but was downgraded to high-level but sub-epic in (iirc) PH2.


----------



## the Jester

Christmas update tonight.

To be honest, I'm having a hard time making one of the elements of the update grandma-friendly.


----------



## Cheiromancer

the Jester said:
			
		

> Christmas update tonight.
> 
> To be honest, I'm having a hard time making one of the elements of the update grandma-friendly.



Post a supplement on Circvs Maximvs!


----------



## the Jester

Our heroes spend a subjective week in the demiplane provided by the new gods, resting and recuperating and preparing to face their foes again.  The Arrows of Law _must be defeated._  If not, they certainly will not rest until they have destroyed our heroes.  A week will be but the blink of an eye on Cydra- but even the goddess of time warns our heroes not to underestimate the chronomantic skills of Marius.  

The new gods provide information, gear and resources.  Alcar is mortified to learn that, after he slew the orcish paladins, his spells were not being granted by Galador (at least, not until he defeated his aleax).

“Then who _did_?” he demands.

“Graz’zt,” Boccob informs him. 

Alcar glares at Graz’zt/Veil, who smiles sweetly (or is it viciously?) back at him.  

Sybele asks about the origin of the Great War of Ethics, and the gods tell our heroes a tale of a primordeal conflict, ages ago and more.  The forces of Law and Chaos have _always_ been at war.  But, for eon after eon, there was a partial detente: the war only continued on the scarred and ravaged battlefields of the Lower Planes. 

“The Blood War,” observes JJ.

Indeed.  The Blood War- the eternal conflict between demons and devils- is but a reflection of the greater War of Ethics.  And now the entire thing has heated up again.  Chaotic good devas battle lawful good devas.  

“It was Na’Rat’s awakening that _caused_ it to heat up over the last century or so,” Froth continues.  “Na’Rat, the Chaos-Bringer, will never stand for the status quo if it can help it.  It was asleep for a long time, but then archaeologists on Pesh unearthed the first of his obelisks.  It was only a matter of time before others were discovered- or created.  And the more that were found, the more awareness of Na’Rat spread, the more power it attained.  

“Every Chaos gift it gave was an investment, spending energy to spread knowledge of it- which came back to it as more energy, as the faith of Na’Rat spread again on Cydra.  It poked and prodded and provoked the flare-up.”  Froth smirked.

Gerontius speaks up.  “You zere, Hush or whatever your name is- I ‘ave been thinking.  I pledge myself to you.  If you are part of the secret plan, you must be worthy- and you wield a rapier, a quick weapon, eh?”

“My name isn’t hush, it’s-”

“Not the time yet,” Boccob intervenes.

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”  “Hush” grins.  “But I accept your service, and I think you will find my portfolio... appropriate.”

“Yep,” Alcar agrees.

“And _I_ will pledge myself to _you,_ pretty triple goddess lady,” Sybele exclaims, bowing to Garnet’s three aspects.  

“Well, I’m not pledging myself to anyone, but can you do anything with this, to make it more potent in its Chaos powers?” JJ asks.  He is holding his fragment of an obelisk of Na’Rat.  And he is holding it out to Froth.

“I believe that I can,” the god of rape, necrophilia and cowardice declares.  He is almost crowing in near-triumph.

Near the end of the subjective week, the party receives new, impressive gear from Tade.  Each of those who suffered the worst from the _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_ that Marius hit them with receives an item or two of impressive potency.  Garnet then establishes two telepathic links, as the group has previously discussed- one secure against Prayzose’s _telepathic eavesdropping_ and one not, which they can use for subterfuge and misdirection.  

Froth smirks as Tade hands something to JJ- a codpiece formed from the obelisk piece.  As profane as they could make it.  “Defile the Arrows or the pool or any other object or creature of Law with that,” sneers Froth, “and it will be tainted forever!”

The party is antsy to get back to the battle.  They are all tense and keyed-up.  The new gods have offered to deliver them back nearly anywhere they wish to go.  

“Are we ready?” wonders Sybele.

“I think so,” says Thrush.

“Wait,” Baron Lillamere speaks up.  “Wait.”  He turns to the nameless, rapier-wielding figure that both Gerontius and Alcar have sworn to.  He stares directly at the unknown deity.  “I don’t know who you are or what you represent, but maybe you could give us a few inspirational words of wisdom before we go.”

“Hush”, as our heroes are calling him (for now) grows solemn.  He steps forward and seems almost to grow in stature.  “All right,” he states.

“I am not a god of words and speech, so I will keep this short and simple.  No matter what, no matter how bad things look, no matter how close the enemy is to a complete and overwhelming victory, _no matter what,_ never give up.  Never surrender.  Fight to your last breath, fight to the last one of you, give it your all and you just _may_ triumph.  Victory _can_ come, even in the face of overwhelming odds, if you persevere.”

He looks each of them over one more time. 

“You have mettle.  You have strength.  Be worthy of it.

“That’s all I have to say,” he finishes after a pregnant pause.

“Wow, thanks,” Lillamere replies.  He looks thoughtful. 

“Is there any way that you can disguise us?” asks JJ.  

“Prayzose is perceptive,” Zelman- the god of illusions- says slowly.  “I can cloak you so that you are disguised against him for a brief time, no more.” 

“At least they wouldn’t be able to tell which of us was which,” notes Sybele.

“Very well, then,” the emerald-skinned god nods, and he passes his hand before the party.  “What would you appear as?”

“Something small and relatively harmless,” suggests Sybele.  “Like gnomes!  That way nobody will connect us with, er, us.”

“So be it,” Zelman declares, and so it appears to be.

“_Now_ are we ready?” wonders Sybele.  Long-duration spells are already being cast by some of the party, and she begins to initiate some of her psionic abilities as well.  

“One more thing,” Zelman says.  “If you’re in disguise, we can send you somewhere that you can try to buy more equipment to re-equip with.”

“I don’t think we have a lot of liquid cash right now,” Thrush says grimly.

“I can cover that, too,” Zelman grins.  “It won’t be real money, and there’s a chance that a powerful spellcaster could detect the ruse, but I can create some fake trade bars for each of you.”

“We might make enemies that way,” points out Chakar. 

“Zey would only know as us gnomes anyway,” counters Gerontius.

“Good point,” nods Baron Lillamere.

“I don’t think it’s a great idea,” comments Alcar, “but it might be our best option under the circumstances.”

“Well, but where are we going?” JJ asks.

“How about that flying city?” suggests Lillamere.  “You know, the one with all the magic and stuff?”

“Kseethee,” Alcar states.

Zelman nods.  “A good choice.  Very well, Kseethee it is.”

“One more thing,” Baron Lillamere says.  _I’m going to regret this,_ he thinks, and steps up, grabs Froth and kisses him on the mouth.

It stretches out for about three seconds.  It is one of those ‘what the hell!’ moments that everyone has, and half the time they prove to be regretful.  This, sadly, is one of those days, as Lillamere stiffens and falls dead to the floor.  

Froth smacks his lips.  “He’s quite a good kisser,” he remarks, and winks at the others.

Sybele springs forward and _psionic revivifies_ Lillamere.  “What did you do that for??” demands Alcar a moment later, shaking his head.  Lillamere shrugs in reply.

“Had to know,” he gasps.  

Zelman sighs.  “There is one more thing,” he says.  This is certainly not the first ‘one more thing’ our heroes have said or heard today, but this one is, perhaps, the best. 

Zelman looks squarely at Lillamere.  “This may help you,” he declares.  He hands his staff to Lillamere.

Lillamere’s jaw drops.  

“The Staff of the Emerald Mage,” Zelman says solemnly.  “Among other things, it can lead you to Darkhold.”

Then the gods open a _gate,_ and our heroes head to Kseethee.  There, once they reach Bigsby’s Scrollworks, the party’s plans change abruptly.

Over their new, secure telepathic link, Lester slowly says, _These guys have an almost unlimited supply of scrolls of even the most powerful spells.  Screw getting new gear- I say we load up on _wishes_ and use them to make ourselves stronger, healthier, quicker- whatever we need!  With Zelman’s money, and with the number of _wish_ and _miracle_ scrolls available here, we can probably buff ourselves up as much as we want!_

What ensues is a back-alley _wish_-fest like nothing ever seen before on Cydra.  In the space of a few minutes, a total of *35* _wishes_ and _miracles_ are read off of scrolls (either newly purchased or existing) and cast.  In the end, so much eldritch energy is expended in the alley in question that a magical aura was permanently etched into the fabric of the street and the walls, a curiosity to remain unexplained by most of the locals for all time.

“Now what?” wonders Gerontius, spinning daggers around his fingers at lightning speed.  

_Back to the Bastion!_ declares Chakar.  _Let us return to the fight!_ 

Just then a _sending_ comes to Sybele from Horbin: _Prayzose in mind.  Var hostage.  Remember, the sun wobbles.  Don’t attack the Bastion of Law- work remains undone._

Sybele hesitates for only half a second.  Either Horbin, like Inoke, has been co-opted, or else he isn’t in a position to help.  Either way, there can be no turning back, no surrender- as Hush said, the party must fight to the end.  _And the emperor high priest guy is in my pal’s mind,_ Sybele muses.  _He is bound to hear whatever I tell my friend._

With a smile, Sybele replies: _We are devastated and weakened.  We need your help.  When you see us, you can see the true color of Law._  Then she winks to the others and relays the message over the secure link. 

“All right,” Thrush snaps, “it’s time.  Let’s do it.”

_*Next Time:*_ The battle resumes!!


----------



## Knightfall

All right, an update!


----------



## hippiejediz

A Christmas update, somehow appropriate. Keep up the good work Jester.


----------



## the Jester

Annnnd- another Arrow of Law.

*THE JUDGE OF WORLDS---- CR 30*

In battle mode: _This terrifying looking metal machine looms about 14’ tall.  At the core of its body is an emotionless metal face whose large, insect-like eyes seem to take in everything around it.  From the surrounding metal emerge various limbs and tools, some of which are delicate manipulators and some, deadly weapons.  The entire chassis of the thing is painted a dull, neutral grey.  _

*Note:* The Judge of Worlds began the big battle with the following effects active:

CL 10- _haste_ (from Marius);
CL 26- _disjunction buffer_
CL 30- _detect chaos, detect law, discern lies, shield of chaos_

Unique inevitable
LN large construct (extraplanar, lawful)
*Init* +18; *Senses* _true seeing_, Listen +70, Spot +70
*Aura *overwhelming lawful
*Languages* _tongues_, telepathy 100’


*AC* 46 (-1 size, +10 dex, +8 armor, +15 natural, +4 deflection), touch 23, flat-footed 36
*Hit Dice* 48d12+816 (1200 hp); *DR 20*/epic and adamantine and chaotic
*Resist* cold 30, sonic 30; *SR* 38
*Immune *deconstruction, electricity, fire, _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_, rust
*Fort* +22, *Ref* +30, *Will* +37


*Speed* 90 ft. (18 squares), burrow 40 ft., climb 40 ft., swim 90 ft.  
*Melee* 3 sword-arms +46 (2d6+10) and 2 hammer-arms +44 (2d6+5) and 2 spear-arms +44 (2d6+5)
*Ranged* slug thrower +46/46/41/36/31/26/21 (3d8 plus stunning)
*Base Atk* +36; *Grp *+50
*Space *10 ft.; *Reach* 10 ft. (20’ with spear-arms)
*Special Actions* pass judgment
*Spell-like Abilities (CL 30):* 

at will- _detect chaos, detect law, discern lies, dismissal, dispel chaos, greater dispel magic, greater teleport, magic circle against chaos, mark of justice, order’s wrath, shield of chaos; _

3/day- quickened _greater dispel magic_, quickened _greater teleport_, _plane shift, wish._


*Str* 31, *Dex* 30, *Con *-, *Int* 25, *Wis* 45, *Cha* 33
*SQ *will to survive
*Feats *Ability Focus (pass judgment), Alertness, Cleave, Combat Expertise, Great Cleave, Great Fortitude, Improved Disarm, Improved Initiative, Improved Trip, Multiattack, Power Attack, Quicken Spell-Like Ability (greater dispel magic, greater teleport), Skill Focus (sense motive), Track
*Epic Feats* Epic Skill Focus (sense motive), Superior Initiative
*Skills* Intimidate +68, Knowledge (history, religion, the planes) +58, Listen +70, Sense Motive +81, Spot +70, Survival +68, Use Magic Device +62

*Natural Weapons: *The Judge of Worlds’ natural weapons, including his slug thrower, are treated as epic, lawful and adamantine for purposes of overcoming damage reduction. 

*Pass Judgment (Su):* The Judge of Worlds is ultimately empowered by the forces of Law to wipe a world too far out of balance towards Chaos clean in order to make room for another attempt at a properly Lawful civilization.  This ability utterly destroys its target, annihilating all creatures within a predetermined area.  This area may be as small as a 20’ radius or as large as a 100 mile radius, but the Judge may not pass judgment on an area that contains a population that is more than 10% lawful.  All creatures within the affected area receive a Fort save (DC 45); success results in only 10d6 points of damage.  

*Shield of Law:* Any creature striking the Judge of Worlds must make a Will save, DC 29, or be slowed.
*
Slug Thrower:* The Judge of Worlds can use his slug thrower to fire off 6 iterative attacks (the stat block above includes an extra attack at his highest bonus due to haste).  Any creature hit by the slug thrower must make a Fort save, DC 44, or be stunned for one round.


----------



## Alcar

Nice


----------



## Seance

Baron Lillomere also ended up getting a token from Froth for his devistating nimble lips, a coin-like charm that he was told he could use to secure the aid of 'telaporting suiacidal brownies'. Thats bound to come in handy!


----------



## the Jester

*KABOOOOMM!!!!*

The facade of the Museum of Conjuration explodes.  Over the _epic mindlink,_ the Delphin cries, _We cannot shield the entire city!  We _must_ counterattack!_

Over a mile off in the distance, circling overhead, are several metal _somethings._  They are large enough to see, and the Delphinate’s defenders have already sent one strike force out against them- with disastrous results.  In seconds they were annihilated, falling off of the _epic mindlink_ in a blaze of strange weaponry.  The Delphin’s mask remains expressionless, but behind it he clenches his jaw.  

“More _seeker missiles?_” someone suggests aloud, but the Delphin shakes his head. 

“They have some kind of shielding,” he sighs.  “And they have a very impressive range.  They can fire at more important buildings than we can shield.”

Churr _dimension doors_ to the Delphin’s side, and after a momentary disorientation, the gnoll wizard growls, “I may have an idea.”

_Yes?_  The Delphin switches to a second, permanent _Rary’s telepathic bond_ that he shares only with the resurrected former Delphins.

_If we can get the population, within acceptable losses, into a place we can surround with some sort of water tight barrier, we may be able to submerge all of Sevlon._*

The Delphin stares at him in shock.  _What!_ 

_During my tenure as Delphin,_ Churr tells his successor, _I developed several defenses against catastrophic assault.  As you may know from your history- or the _Mask_- during my time we were assaulted by a strong force from the City of Brass.  An army of elementals and efreeti sought to crush us and steal certain artifacts for their master, Imix, so that he could destroy a powerful enemy named Kembrith.**  We managed to drive them off, but in case of a future assault I created a transvalent spell that would submerge the entire isle._

The Delphin’s mask remains impassive, but he can feel his lips turn up in a smile.  _What is required?_

Quickly, Churr replies, _Aquamarines and pearls, many of them- we must gather all of the ones in the country as quickly as possible.  The material components are... considerable.  And we will need to find wizards who have high-valence spells remaining.  We need at least five transvalent casters..._

The Delphin is shocked.  _Five!  That may be a challenge... but we can do it.  We could contact Horbin-_

_I do not think he would work with me,_ Churr states.  _But we are strong enough.  We can do it.  We will need dozens of other casters of varying power as well._

The Delphin purses his lips.  _And you never developed a spell to protect the people and places of the Delphinate while it was submerged?_

Churr answers, _I was working on it when I was killed.  Please, there is no time-_

The Delphin attacks.  

A volley of extremely powerful spells races at Churr, who vanishes instantly.  _Churr is a traitor,_ the Delphin broadcasts over the _epic mindlink._ _Do not trust him or aid him.  He seeks the downfall of the Delphinate._

Grimly, he turns back to the defense.  _The Mask of the Delphin_ shields his face, but it is stricken.  _I should have known the previous Delphins would seek to take their old place again, and I knew it was risky,_ he thinks to himself.  _Churr was lying, I am sure of it.  I would know of such a powerful spell.  I must check the libraries when this is over- if we survive- but I _know_ he was lying.  I believe that he has developed such a spell, and I believe that it has the requirements of which he spoke- but I do not believe that he developed it during his tenure.  He has developed it since his return.  He was doing research for quite some time and now it seems that I know what he was researching- or at least a piece of it.  

He wants to sink Sevlon, leaving most of it in ruins.  Then he can claim it for himself.  I must be very careful._

There is another explosion as a missile explodes against the _Clocktower of Force_, but this time there is no damage.  

“We need twenty _gates_ to summon creatures with the ability to fly and to _teleport_ at will,” declares the Delphin.

***

_*The Shining City, Tirchond*_

It is not all bad for Chaos and good for Law, however.  On Tirchond, which the Forinthian Empire occupied (yet again!) some months ago, Chaos celebrates a rare victory.

In his very palace, one by one the Imperial Governor’s bodyguards died.  They died silently but not unnoticed; but nobody saw anyone doing anything.  It was just one after another, dropping dead to the ground with throat slit.

Finally, when it is down to the last guard and the Governor, Sheva steps from the shadows.  “Run,” she tells the guard.  She is a stunningly gorgeous woman with hair the color of flame, garbed only in a chain mail bikini.  She holds an impressive-looking greatsword casually in each hand.***  Her green eyes stare the guard down; with a glance at his fallen comrades, then a glance at the Imperial Governor, he flees.  Then Sheva turns to the Governor.

“I’m not going to _soul bind_ you,” she explains, “because, before you die, I’m going to explain some things to you and I want you to be able to explain them to your masters if they raise you or speak with your while you’re dead.  So listen.”

The Imperial Governor doesn’t listen.  Instead, he jumped Sheva, hands balled into fists.  This leads immediately to a black eye, a headache and a face down position with the tips of two greatswords just barely breaking the skin of the back of his neck and groin.  At this point, the governor starts listening.

As if he hadn’t ever interrupted, Sheva says, “Tirchond is under my protection- mine and Coila’s.  You have probably heard of me...”

“Revolutionary scum!” the Governor groans.

“...good, you have.  Then you know- as I have just shown you- that I can get to whoever governs this place and kill them.  I can make it too painful to stay here.  I’m giving you a chance to deliver this message before I really get started.  This is just a preview.  _Get off of Tirchond._  It doesn’t belong to Forinthia.  It doesn’t belong to Law.  It belongs to _Tirchond._  Do you hear me?  Were you paying attention?  Did you get all that?!”

“Y-yes,” the Imperial Governor stammers.  The swords are pushing ever so slightly deeper.

“Good,” Sheva says, and pushes down hard on both swords.

***

_*The Bastion of Law*_ 

Horbin arrives via teleportation, and is shocked at the ferocity of the great battle taking place.  It is at a fevered pitch like he has never seen before.  He shakes his head; he is here to talk to Prayzose.

But Prayzose’s curt response to Horbin is quite blunt: Go Home.  You can’t do anything here.  Go help your people in Var.

Cursing, Horbin orbits the Bastion.  _Where are my friends?_ he agonizes.

A good question; but Horbin is a distraction put in place out of necessity by our heroes.  For, instead of the Bastion, they are attacking one of the Arrows.

A _superior teleport_ from Lillamere takes them straight to the Judge of Worlds.  Brelana is burning around them and Lillamere cries out in distress and rage. 

Gerontius, Thrush, Alcar and Wankerman rush to melee, while Sybele fires arrows.  Though several blows spatter against some kind of magical shield, they deal immense damage to the Judge.  Blazier misses with a _dimensional anchor_ attempt, while JJ fires a large chunk of psionic crystal at the lashing construct, shaking the Judge’s entire body with the impact!  The Judge of Worlds itself batters Alcar with weapon after weapon, breaking his hand while jabbing long spear-like weapons at Lillamere himself!  Both Lillamere and Mabrack attempt _punctures_, and both fail (either missing or fizzling against the Judge’s spell resistance).  Lillamere also wisely throws up a _greater anticipate teleport,_ and an instant later he cries out, “We have incoming!!  Multiple targets... and they’re _big!_”

“We have to destroy the Judge before they arrive!” declares Chakar.

_*Next Time:*_ Who or what is incoming??  Will our heroes destroy the Judge before backup arrives??  Will they manage to kill an Arrow of Law at all??  Find out next time!

*Sevlon is the island upon which the Delphinate lies.  It is several hundred miles in length.

**Kembrith has been mentioned at various points in this and the previous story hours as one of the contenders for the throne of the Archomental of Evil Fire.

***That’s right, dual-wielding greatswords.  Those of you who read the earlier adventures of the epic party prolly remember Sheva and her Monkey Gripping ways from that period.


----------



## Seance

Nice update Jester!


----------



## Knightfall

This has become my favorite story hour, period. Excellent update, as usual.


----------



## omrob

*The little people...*

Our superior teleport landed us in a walled room all surrounding the Judge - so we had a good advantage there.

The funniest thing to me about this whole battle was the fact that we all looked, sounded & smelled like mundane gnomes. It actually worked to throw the enemies off, they didn't really figure out who was who. 

Sybele spent alot of this time laying in with her new greatsword, and being Iron bodied...Since she's mostly a psion now she cant keep up doing the megadamage with her bow, but she can do alright with her greatsword with buffs. 

Also she put up the fake mind link we used to screw with the Arrows...we had a great time dropping fake chatter, I don't know if it did anything substantial though.


----------



## the Jester

omrob said:
			
		

> Also she put up the fake mind link we used to screw with the Arrows...we had a great time dropping fake chatter, I don't know if it did anything substantial though.




Short of possibly Gerontius, I don't think any of you had a chance in hell to bluff Prayzose.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Prayzose is that paranoid, huh ?


----------



## Alcar

More, More, More!!!


----------



## the Jester

Rikandur Azebol said:
			
		

> Prayzose is that paranoid, huh ?




Wait til yoiu see his wisdom score.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Jester, I would be suprised if Prayzose would take everything at face-value. After all he is evil king or something. Or even worse, he is good king. Evil king can just order people to be hangt or beheaded. Good one have those ... moral sclupres.  

Thus he would be dead, before meeting PC's, if he wouldn't invest in Sense Motives. Right ?


----------



## the Jester

Rikandur Azebol said:
			
		

> Jester, I would be suprised if Prayzose would take everything at face-value. After all he is evil king or something. Or even worse, he is good king. Evil king can just order people to be hangt or beheaded. Good one have those ... moral sclupres.
> 
> Thus he would be dead, before meeting PC's, if he wouldn't invest in Sense Motives. Right ?




Prayzose is actually Lawful Good.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Ach, so this is the reason why he is staring so hard at the devils with this: "Yeah, right" expression ? 

Then it only increases my sureness that Prayzose have to have high Sense Motives skill. It's necessity when dealing with devils. BTW, does Prayzose have some plans of "self defense" when Devils will inevitably turn on the good Law guys ? 

EDIT: Did players tried to negotiate at all with him reasonably ? As far as I can see this whole "War against Chaos" that Pray managed to choke himself with, is leading to Chaos ... and Evil. Why otherwise Graz'zt be involved ?


----------



## the Jester

All around the world, cities burn as primal forces of Law and Chaos strain against one another, the pressure building and building.  Surely _something_ will give soon; surely _something_ must snap like a twig.  On Dorhaus, on Pesh, on Valonia, on Forinthia; everywhere- the armies of Law smash against Chaos.  The forces of Chaos threaten to engulf those of Law.  At sea north of Pesh, the great Fleet of Chaos- long since splintered into many smaller fleets- converges on the armored ships and terrible weapons of the Galadorian orcs of Valonia.  On the island of Tirchond, the Shining City roars in the grip of the great conflict.  On faraway Strogass, a claimant to the throne of the Dark Empire makes his gamble as the fractious nobles tear the once-great imperial state to pieces.  To the north a great wave of metal insects colonizes a chain of islands even as the strange elves of the region tap the primal power of Limbo to oppose and destroy them.  

Even the Heavens themselves rock with fury, as an immense force of eladrins storms the very gates to the path of enlightenment.  The angels are wroth; they call upon an ancient compact with the very embodiments of Law itself, the modrons, and soon the slopes of Mount Celestia are slick with the blood of celestials.

The Lower Planes, choked by brimstone, are constantly in the throes of the Blood War, but that ancient conflict- itself only a subset of the Great War of Ethics- is more intense than ever, with the demons of Chaos pouring onto the First Hell, taking advantage of the recent destruction of Bel* in order to make impressive gains.  Yet Bel’s successor (and predecessor) is Tiamat, the Chromatic Dragon; and her forces, aided by forces loyal to the other arch-devils, are marshalling and preparing to attack.  

Everywhere the battle rages.  Beneath the sea, the sahuagin swim in ordered ranks on Atlantean realms of merfolk and tritons.  In the sky, strange cloud-beings and wispy air-things fight invisible battles miles above the surface of Cydra.  Smoke and flames, blood and death, heroism and villainy pour from both sides; the cries of the wounded and dead stab a dagger in the heart of the world.  Thousands of miles away, mortal demigods overthrow one another and godsblood splashes the flowers.  In Dorhaus, Malford manages to persuade the Valonian orcs that he has dealt with to throw in with him for good, despite the fact that they are spies for Law, and the sudden reversal is a disaster for the Tiger Forces pursuing him.  In the mountains of Tirchond, Borlad Hammerhead, servant of Law, and his father Vulker, the Thane of the Hammerhead Halls, come to blows over where Borlad’s loyalties lie.  In Pesh City, a daring raid by Forinthian rangers captures the head of the local thieves’ guild, Ricky, who has been smuggling weapons to the insurrectionists.  In the Parrot Isles, a pursuing squadron of Imperial Forinthian warships closes on a pirate vessel; on board the vessel, a desperate man bites his lip as he contemplates the bell, book, candle, bowl and knife before him.  

_Something must snap soon._

***

_*Brelana, Dorhaus*_

Baron Lillamere of Brelana himself is in thick of the fight.  The _greater anticipate teleport_ spell that he is wearing might give them the edge that they need, he reflects.  The spell works by delaying an incoming teleporter by a few seconds and alerting the spell’s target to the number and size of incoming teleporters.  In this case, Lillamere doesn’t even want to think about it.  One of them is _big._ _It must be Dekrasode,_ the baron realizes.  His stomach gives a lurch.  _This is bad news.  We have to destroy the Judge of Worlds NOW!_

The Judge is badly battered; our heroes are pouring a constant rain of weapons, fists and spells at it.  But the construct is very, very tough.  Moreover, it is protected by a _shield of Law,_ which slows Wankerman; and then the Judge teleports away, outside of the _greater anticipate teleport_ area.  

Our heroes are right behind it.  JJ uses _temporal acceleration,_ and those members of the party who still have the _time stop_ stowaway statuette blur into motion to fast to be seen.  The Judge sees them coming and opens up, firing bursts of lead slugs at them; but Wankerman leaps up with a mighty cry, performing a Bullywug Breakdance** and bringing his longspear crashing down dead center through the Judge of Worlds!

There is a bright flare of blue electricity and a loud buzzing sound.  For a moment the Judge spasms in the grip of its own destruction; then- it collapses.

Our heroes cheer!  They have slain one of the Arrows of Law!!!

And then the incoming teleporters arrive.  Lillamere was right- one of them _is_ Dekrasode.

The others are a collection of bad-ass looking half-dragon fire giants: Dekrasode’s brood.

The first one is a tall one, measuring over 14’ tall.  He is dressed like an obvious wizard, wearing robes that bear a lightning motif.  Though he does not wear armor, he bears a greatsword that both runs with flames and crackles with electricity.  Next to him is a half-dragon giant in full plate who does not bear any obvious weapons; but suddenly, a blade composed of pure psychic force springs forth from his hand.  The third bears a gigantic greataxe, far bigger than he should be able to wield, holding it like a monkey with practiced ease.  Another one with no armor is next, and though he has a few wands and such, he seems to be set on using his scarlet longsword.  He moves lithely and is obviously quick on his feet.  Another giantess is next, bearing a longspear and dressed in heavy armor heavily festooned with the symbol of Dekrasode.  The final giant is dressed in a manner quite similar to Lester, and bears trinkets and symbols of the elements- and of the paraelements of magma and smoke.

“Uh-oh,” says Gerontius.

“You said it,” Blaze replies wryly.***

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes have slain the Judge of Worlds, at least for now!  But can they stand against Dekrasode??

*Bel was killed by the characters from the other epic party that my pcs met, fought, teamed up with and killed Asmodeus with in the infamous crossover game that I ran with another dm a while back. 

**This is a tactical feat imc.

***Blaze was true rezzed when the party was resting in the temporally accelerated demiplane.


----------



## the Jester

*Note:* At the beginning of the combat, Dekrasode had the following spells/effects in play: 
*CL 15- _Exquisite matter, true seeing, ultimate concentration, elasticity, fire shield, stoneskin, Jerakai’s embrace, bear’s endurance, bull’s strength, eagle’s splendor, mirror image, see invisibility, mage armor, shield, detect magic_;
*CL 10 (from Marius)- _haste_
*CL 26 (from Prayzose)- _mass death ward, disjunction buffer_

DEKRASODE---- CR 30
Male wyrm blue dragon aristocrat 3/legendary dreadnought 6
LE gargantuan dragon (earth)
*Init* +4 (Combat Reflexes); *Senses* blindsense 60’, darkvision 120’, _detect magic_, keen senses, scent, _see invisibility, true seeing_; Listen +51, Spot +46
*Aura* frightful presence 330’ 
*Languages* Draconic, Thulian (extinct), Forinthian, (six more)
----
*AC* 59, touch 7, flat-footed 49; fire shield (cold flame; 1d6+15), 7 mirror images
*Hit Dice* 45d12 + 3d8 + 492 (850 hp); *DR *20/magic, 15/adamantine (150 points) and 3/-
*Fast Healing* 3
*Immune* death, electricity, _magic missiles, Mordenkainen’s disjunction, sleep_ and paralysis
*Resist* half damage from fire (no damage on successful Ref save); *SR *29
*Fort* +32, *Ref* +25, *Will* +33; unmovable 1/day
----
*Speed* 70 ft., burrow 50 ft., fly 230 ft. (clumsy) 
*Melee *bite +56/56 (4d6+25/19-20) and 4 claws +56 (2d8+8) and 2 wings +56 (2d6+8) and tail slap +56 (2d8+25)
*Base Atk* +42; *Grp* +75
*Space* 20 ft. (exquisite matter); *Reach* 25 ft. (30 ft. with bite) 
*Atk Options* crush, tail sweep, unstoppable 2/day
*Combat Gear* _wand of cure serious wounds_ (CL 15th; 33 charges), _wand of fireballs_ (CL 10th; 29 charges), _ioun stone_ (gives +2 enhancement bonus to con), scroll (_mass heal, true resurrection, miracle_)
*Special Attack* breath weapon
*Special Actions* sound imitation
*Sorcerer Spells Known (CL 15, save DC 20): *

7th level (5/day)*- _exquisite matter, greater teleport_;

6th level (8/day)*- _disintegrate, greater dispel magic, true seeing_;

5th level (8/day)*- _lower resistance, summon monster V, ultimate concentration, wall of force_;

4th level (8/day)***- _bonebreak, elasticity, fire shield, stoneskin_;

3rd level (8/day)*- _blink, clairaudience/clairvoyance, Jerakai’s embrace, major image_;

2nd level (9/day)*****- _bear’s endurance, bull’s strength, eagle’s splendor, mirror image, see invisibility_;

1st level (9/day)**- _alarm, mage armor, magic missile, shield, unseen servant_;

0th level (6/day)- _detect magic, ghost sound, light, mage hand, mending, message, prestidigitation, read magic, resistance_.

_*Each asterisk indicates one spell that has already been cast.  The number per day indicated does not account for pre-cast spells (so, for example, Dekrasode begins play with 5 remaining 4th-level spells for the day). _

*Spell-like Abilities (CL 15):* 3/day- _create/destroy water, ventriloquism_; 1/day- _hallucinatory terrain, veil._ 
----
*Str* 44, *Dex* 10, *Con* 30, *Int* 28, *Wis* 24, *Cha* 31
*Feats* Ability Focus (breath weapon), Cleave, Combat Reflexes, Great Cleave, Improved Bull Rush, Improved Critical (bite), Improved Initiative, Improved Multiattack, Leadership, Maximize Breath, Multiattack, Power Attack, Quicken Breath, Recover Breath, Shock Wave 
*Epic Feats* Epic Prowess, Fast Healing 
*Skills* Balance +4, Bluff +52, Concentration +69 (_ultimate concentration_), Diplomacy +56, Disguise +52 (+56 acting in character), Escape Artist +39, Forgery +20, Hide +23, Intimidate +65, Jump +21, Knowledge (history) +48, Listen +51, Search +48, Sense Motive +46, Sleight of Hand +4, Spellcraft +54, Spot +46, Survival +7 (+11 tracking), Swim +24, Tumble +25 ½, Use Magic Device +61, Use Rope +0 (+4 if involving bindings)
*Possessions* combat gear plus _amulet of natural armor +5, ring of protection +4_
----
*Frightful Presence (Ex):* Whenever Dekrasode attacks, charges or flies overhead, all creatures of 48 HD or less within 330’ must make Will saving throws (DC 38) or become shaken for 4d6 rounds.

*Breath Weapon (Su):* Dekrasode’s breath weapon is a 120’ line of lightning that deals 22d8 points of electricity damage (Ref half, DC 40).  After he uses his breath weapon, he must wait 1d4-1 rounds (minimum 1) before using it again.  Dekrasode has several metabreath feats.  He can maximize his breath weapon, which adds +3 rounds to its recharge time.  He can quicken his breath, allowing him to use it as a free action, which adds +4 rounds to its recharge time.  He cannot use both metabreath feats at once.  

*Crush (Ex):* As a standard action, Dekrasode can land on opponents, using his whole body to crush them.  This attack only works on Medium and smaller creatures.  All such creatures must make Ref saves, DC 40, or be pinned and suffer 4d6+25 points of damage.  If Dekrasode chooses to maintain his pin on them, treat this as a normal grapple.  Each round, he deals crush damage again to all pinned victims.

*Tail Sweep (Ex):* As a standard action, Dekrasode can sweep a half-circle with a radius of 30’ (extending from any intersection in his space) with his tail.  All small and smaller creatures affected suffer 2d6+25 points of damage (Ref half, DC 40).

*Unmovable (Ex):* Dekrasode can take a +20 bonus to a check to avoid being grabbed via the improved grab ability, a str check to avoid the effects of a bull rush, trip or similar effect, a str check against any one effect that would move him physically or any one saving throw.  
*
Unstoppable (Ex):* Dekrasode can take a +20 bonus to a str check to break a barrier.  It can also be applied to a single attack roll.  

***

This is Dekrasode's unique spell:

*Exquisite Matter*
Transmutation
Level: 7
Components: V, S, M
Casting Time: 1 standard action
Range: Personal
Target: You
Duration: 1 minute/level

This spell changes you into a strange form of _exquisite matter_.  While not incorporeal, you do not need a significant amount of space to move and act normally.  Even a colossal creature can act normally in an area big enough only for one tiny creature.  

While in this form of _exquisite matter,_ you will fill a space up to your normal size and no larger.  You may fill oddly shaped areas (a gargantuan creature in a 5’x20’ hall would fill the whole thing, for example).  You may freely overlap the spaces of other creatures without hindrance to yourself; they, however, are considered to be squeezing.  You may not choose not to fill as large of a space as possible, up to your normal size (in other words, you will "squeeze down" to fit inside smaller spaces, but cannot voluntarily shrink).


----------



## Greybar

Hooo boy.  So basically, if it wasn't for the _greater anticipate teleport_ they would have had to face both Arrows (plus brood) at the same time and would have been hurtin'.

Add that to the list of "must have active to survive at epic levels" effects.  Actually, I'm really glad to see it, since it seems that beings in the world must have adapted to overcome the buff-scry-teleport pattern.


----------



## Alcar

*Boo Hoo*

For someone that has been a BIG part of your campaign for so long, I was a little dissapointed at how weak Dekrasode is(was). In fact I bet Alcar could take him one on one. Tsk Tsk.
Wait..
Does that mean people could be clerics of me... If I'm better than wtf...?
I'll grant spells.. promise..

I think I'm more suprised that Dekrasode had 0 levels in ascendent.
Oh well...


His tresure sucked too.


----------



## Alcar

*One more thing!!*

By the way, that spell of his is F****** awesome!!

I'll adopt that one if ya don't mind..


----------



## the Jester

Alcar said:
			
		

> His tresure sucked too.




...says the guy who hasn't seen his horde yet...


----------



## Seance

...We have not raided his horde YET...its still on!

I want to see the details on Dekrasode's Brood. How about it?


----------



## the Jester

*Dekrasode and His Brood*

Blazier thinks, _What a great idea!  Let’s track and kill the forces of Law.  For the gods’ sake.  I spend my career _avoiding_ the eyes of the Law.  Now, I walk down their throat!  Well, if it gets me closer to Horbin the Holy, that’s fine.  That bastard!  He’s going down!!_*

Graz’zt/Veil springs forth, engaging Dekrasode in melee.  It is a bold move- but one that rapidly proves to be a mistake.  Graz’zt cannot get through the dragon’s defenses, while the Arrow of Law lands blow after blow on the demon prince.  Worse yet, Dekrasode proceeds to demonstrate the ability to quicken his breath weapon!  Explosions of electricity and flames begin to bloom on the battlefield as the fray is truly joined.  A fierce exchange of blows, spells and psionics begins.

Thrush once again demonstrates that he is, in fact, the foremost swordsman of his age.  He lands blow after punishing blow on the nimble-looking giant with the red blade.  To everyone’s surprise, the giant (Brethkatha, though our heroes do not know his name) stands up to the blows.  However, the nimble half-dragon immediately tumbles back towards the spear-wielder.  Mabrack wades into the enemies as well, while Lillamere turns into a massive black dragon and belches acid all over Dekrasode.  The acidic breath sprays the blue dragon and smoke starts to rise from his scales, hissing and popping as the acid etches a few new small scars on him.  

Graz’zt disengages from Dekrasode to seek the relative safety of the melee with the half-dragons.  Dekrasode laughs arrogantly. 

Brethkatha’s tumbling changes direction; he isn’t fleeing Thrush, he’s maneuvering into flanking- and then he stabs the fighter in the vitals with his red sword.  Thrush howls as the savvy half-dragon reveals that this is, indeed, exactly what he specializes in- for his style reveals that he is a dog soldier, trained to attack in packs and use teamwork to destroy their enemies.  

The other half-dragons slam into Thrush, Mabrack and Graz’zt.  The ensuing melee is amazingly fierce.  Blood flies as each side slices into the other.  Alcar’s wings give a mighty beat and he leaps into the air.  Below him, the longspear-wielding female half-dragon (whose name is Shivaxa) casts a _mass heal_, and to his dismay Alcar notes that the pulse of positive energy that she emits is extraordinarily strong.  _She must be specialized in healing somehow,_ he thinks.**  _Well, not for long._  Alcar closes his eyes for a moment, centers himself and calls upon his new god.

_Bless,_ he prays, _I need you with me now.  You are the god of lost causes, of hopeless quests, of success against all odds and despite overwhelming obstacles.  You have walked with me my entire life and I never knew your name.  Please, Bless, aid us today.  We must succeed in our quest to overcome the Arrows of Law, for the good of everyone.  For our sake, for your sake, and for the sake of the innocent- help us do this._  And then he casts _holy blast,_ maximized by the _incense of meditation_ that he had burned when praying for spells.  The blast of divine energy smashes down, tearing at the half-dragons (and Graz’zt; Alcar suppresses a smile at that).  Then Alcar delivers a quickened _harm_ to the giant soulknife.  

“Shivaxa, I need your aid, my love!” he cries.  His _mind blade_ slices at Mabrack, inflicting several stinging wounds on the giant.  

“Dekrasode, come and get me!” Alcar cries a challenge. 

_The construct guys will return soon,_ Sybele predicts.  _We have to end this fast!_  She engages the giant wizard, Hrimli Thunderbolt.  Her sword slices out, cutting at the tall enemy, but he casts a _cone of cold in reply.  Sybele begins to glow as her energy adaptation triggers, and both Gerontius and Wankerman move in to aid.  In a moment more, the wizard is down.  Then, as Shivaxa moves to aid the one who called for her aid, JJ blasts the wounded half-dragon with an energy wave that kills him before the healer reaches him!  She wails in despair, and Graz’zt takes the opportunity to offer his condolences with his wavy-bladed, acid-dripping sword.  The healer dies a horrible but quick death.  Then Graz’zt summons forth a balor to join in the fun, laughing maniacally.

Is there anything left of Veil in there? wonders Lillamere.

Meanwhile, Pan Lo lectures Chakar, who stands aloof from the battle for the moment.***  Chakar stands stony-faced and listens while the Perfect Master harangues him; he demonstrates poise under pressure.  

Brasha Nal, the half-dragon with an axe, hurls himself at the balor.  He slays it in two mighty blows, and the balor body sizzles, smokes, pops, jerks and spasms a few times and then finally explodes in a violent series of death throes.  The blast tears into everyone, but almost everyone ducks behind something or throws him- or herself out of the worst of the blast.  Unfortunately, Blaze does not.  He survives, but just barely.  Almost senseless, he howls, Argh!  Help, I’m in bad shape! over the telepathic bond that the party shares.  He nearly falls to his knees, but manages to- just barely- hold himself upright. 

It is only the fact that he spoke telepathically rather than aloud that saves him as the elementalist giant blasts most of the party with a fire storm.  Several of them are immune to it and everyone has at least some level of protection, but it hurts.  

Another holy blast from Alcar, maximized by the incense, slams into Dekrasode, but the dragon evades the angel’s quickened flame strike.  Then Alcar and Thrush both leap to the attack on the dragon.  Wankerman leaps up and bullywug breakdance on the elementalist, who is starting to look like he is having second thoughts about the whole sordid affair.  When Gerontius joins in the fun, the elementalist- Vespazia- uses his boots of teleportation to get out of Dodge.

Meanwhile, Baron Lillamere finishes off Brasha Nal, who has suffered pretty badly in his engagement with Wankerman, with a crushing fist of spite.  Then all that remains is Dekrasode himself.

Thrush and Alcar tear into him; he tears back.  Springing up, his claws and bite and wings and tail all lash out at our heroes.  But Alcar parries and strikes back, and Thrush steps in and hacks at the dragon.  Dekrasode’s scales turn some of their attacks away; but Thrush soon lands first one heavy slash across the dragon’s proud chest, then another that breaks a forearm.  Dekrasode roars in pain and rage, but Thrush is not intimidated.

“You’re done, dragon!” he cries.

Thrush stabs forward, lunging, putting all of his weight behind it.  His sword pierces the dragon at his breast, The blade sinks deep, deep into Dekrasode’s chest.

The roar of rage turns to one of agony.

Thrush’s sword slides neatly into Dekrasode’s black heart, right through it and deeper.  The dragon convulses on the sword.  Another weak roar- and Dekrasode, proud dragon, former ruler of the Empire of Wotan, dies.

Our heroes cheer!  Immediately Alcar pulls out a huge gem from his bag- a great black sapphire.  He murmurs one last prayer to Bless before casting soul bind.  

Within the great gem, a tiny pinprick of light begins to glimmer.  

Alcar whoops.  “We got him!” he shouts.

“Incoming,” Lillamere warns as his greater anticipate teleport begins to tingle.  “About a dozen, some large, some medium.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Sybele says.  Then she goes on telepathically, We can seek sanctuary in that place where the new gods are.

Darkhold, affirms Lillamere.  I can get us there with the staff.

Meanwhile, a number of our heroes begin to grab loot and/or bodies.  Thrush is strutting like a peacock.  He looks rather pleased with himself.  Lillamere disintegrates the Judge of Worlds’ remains, hoping that will slow down the Arrow’s return.

Then the party greater teleports away.  Two random plane shifts later, they feel as though it’s pretty likely that they have thrown off pursuit.

“All right,” Baron Lillamere says, “let’s see where to go.”  The staff of the Emerald Mage balances easily on a fingertip, and he spins it.  The gem at either end pulses with a greenish-blue light as the staff slows and finally ends up pointing, with one gem glowing brighter than the other, off into the distance. 

“Incoming,” Lillamere says grimly.

“What!  How?” wonders Gerontius.  Ze god of illusion ‘imself said zat we should be safe from scrying for a time!

JJ replies, They must have some kind of device planted on us or something. 

Over the telepathic link that the party set up that is not secure against Prayzose’s psychic eavesdropping, Baron Lillamere declares, Let’s go back to Pesh!  We’re badly depleted, we need to renew our resources!  Then, over the link that is secure (our heroes hope), he announces, All right, time to teleport again.  Everyone gathers up quickly and the party teleports away in the direction the staff is pointing.  

“We probably only have a few moments,” Wankerman comments, as the party appears on a windswept rocky slope.  But not far off they see the hedges that surround Darkhold.  “Hey, not bad!” he exclaims.

The party hurries towards the hedges.  Lillamere pays close attention to his greater anticipate teleport, but it doesn’t start to tingle just yet.  Our heroes reach the hedges, and then-

“Good evening,” says a familiar voice.  The form of Glaisig, the Hidden Minister of Lucifer, steps from the shadows.

*Next Time:* What does Glaisig want?   What will our heroes find in Darkhold?  And will the Arrows track them into Darkhold??


*Yes, Blaze has a grudge against Horbin.  He thinks of Horbin as a former great light of Chaos who gave up the fight and turned coat.

**A cure light wounds from Shivaxa would heal 1d10+51 points of damage. 

***His player missed this session. _


----------



## Krud

Great stuff as usual Jester. This, along with Halfling Way are definitely some of the funniest Story Hours on this board.

Funny to see PCs have to play cat and mouse in a world of Scry & Fry, and getting creative with Soul Bind etc to stop their enemies from coming back. Pity they couldn't have nicked the Judge of Worlds' body and animated it or something to stop him coming back. Then again, he was a construct and they don't have souls do they?


----------



## Seance

Baron Lillomere also turned into a Frost Worm and nailed them with the breath weapon. Had the 'Hammer of Chaos' not taken out the Judge of Worlds before they arrived It may have been a totally different battle.


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

Very nice updates, Jester!  Screams epic.

Just noticed the Judge of World's 'Will To Survive' ability is basically just, gain a modifier to hit points based on wisdom.  Very neat   1200 hp and DR 20/etc...., I'm surprised with how quickly the PCs seemed to take down the Judge.  Then again it was pretty heavily outnumbered.  Dekrasode, however, seems to have insane AC and backup so I'm guessing the PCs are much more effective than I give them credit for.

We gonna see another Arrow of Law's stats?


----------



## omrob

*Weak!!!*

J 

I see your updating Year 272 instead of this thread. WEAK! You are getting ahead of your self...lets see another Arrow and a smashing update regarding our total pwnage on LAW. 

RAN


----------



## Seance

I second that emotion!!


----------



## the Jester

Sollir Furryfoot said:
			
		

> Very nice updates, Jester!  Screams epic.
> 
> Just noticed the Judge of World's 'Will To Survive' ability is basically just, gain a modifier to hit points based on wisdom.  Very neat   1200 hp and DR 20/etc...., I'm surprised with how quickly the PCs seemed to take down the Judge.




Honestly, I don't think you can comprehend just how much damage the pcs dish out in a round.  Holy crap.  I mean, when they fought Asmodeus, Inoke killed him in a single full attack.  They often utterly annihilate an enemy before it has a chance to respond.



			
				omrob said:
			
		

> I see your updating Year 272 instead of this thread. WEAK!




HAW HAW!! I do what I want!!  

Now I'm going to have to update _every other story hour_ before I do this one again!!   



			
				Seance said:
			
		

> I second that emotion!!




Sheesh, you'd think you guys didn't play in the other games too!  Does that mean that the epic game is yer favorite?

Bear in mind that we, ahem, won't be playing this guys again anytime soon, and I don't want to run out of story for this SH just yet.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Jester ... I think that PC's might need update to 3,5. This should change their damage output to more balanced amounts.  
I had similiar problem in Epic game too, PCs were annihilating all but ABSOULUTELY overpowered foes. Well ... they were conquering world.


----------



## the Jester

Rikandur Azebol said:
			
		

> Jester ... I think that PC's might need update to 3,5. This should change their damage output to more balanced amounts.




Oh no, they're 3.5.  We had a World Shaking Event that did that a while back.

Nope, they just do incredible amounts of damage.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Ups. Sorry Jester ... me forgetful.   

Incredible ? You know how to use gentle words.  
I think that to top Inoke's dps I would have to use Hecakontieres. Or Marilith with some Psionic Powers.


----------



## the Jester

Given some of the events of the next update I'm going to point out this passage from waaaaaaay back in post #247 of this thread, mostly for my players. 



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> From somewhen else, from the ashes of another cosmos, a dark intelligence looks on as well.  There are possibilities when the wall between realities is thin.  There are two of them left who might yet be able to tear down the abomination the Master created and restore the dark equilibrium that ought to exist.
> 
> And from somewhere else again, from the depths of the bedrock of all reality, ancient eyes look on the possibilities grimly.  _I knew that there would be weakness at the stress points of the boundary when I agreed to send them back in the first place, so long ago, but I thought there would be nothing to prey on them.  I did not count on the remaining angels._
> 
> He steeples his fingers in deep, deep thought.




Bwahahahaha!


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Jester, put on this baddie Delay Death spell. And give him/it/her/whatever Diehard feat. It will at least finish it's line before PC's pulverize it.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Please update me.


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Please update me.




I have too many irons in the fire right now.  

The next update is half done.  Hopefully I'll be able to post it today or tomorrow.


----------



## the Jester

_Shrring!_ 

Weapons slide free of their scabbards.  The beginning syllables of fantastically powerful dweomers spring to the lips of the spellcasters.  Psychic energies begin to crackle around Sybele.

Glaisig studies the party silently for an instant.  He is tall, ominous, a figure in service to Lucifer, Asmodeus’ predecessor- and sucessor.  

“What do you want, devil?” Alcar demands threateningly, stepping towards him, mace held high.

“Peace,” Glaisig says soothingly,holding up his hands.  “I mean you no harm.  I come to help you.”

“I doubt that very much,” comments Chakar.

“This guy’s a devil?” asks JJ.

“One of the worst,” snarls Alcar.  “We do not need your help, devil!” the angel thunders.

“Wait a minute,” protests Graz’zt/Veil.  “We are not in a position to turn down any help right now.”

“Aren’t you on the side of Law?” Baron Lillamere asks, after mulling for a moment.

“What kind of help are you offering?” inquires Gerontius.  “And what is ze price?”

Glaisig turns to Baron Lillamere.  “Yes, of course I- and my Master- are Lawful.  But remember: you aided us a great deal is striking down Asmodeus- _who was the first Arrow of Law you defeated-_ and the others were his allies, and bear us no good will whatsoever.  They are our enemies as well as yours.”

Our heroes study his face, but it betrays no expression.  Even Gerontius cannot read him.  _There is no time for this,_ Lillamere realizes.  _We dare not let the forces of Law catch up to us.  We can’t take the time for debate._

“What kind of help,” Lillamere repeats Gerontius’ question, “and what is the price?”

Glaisig answers calmly.  “There is no price,” he assures the party.  “We are willing to... dispatch our watchdog to aid you.  She should prove to be a significant distraction to your foes.  You must merely say my name thrice.”  Then he smiles. “I understand that you have no time to waste.  Do not tarry on my account.”

“The devil guy’s right,” Sybele pipes up.*  “There will be Law forces incoming any moment.”  There is no time to question the devil; grimly, our heroes move past him.  Glaisig fades back into the shadows, his face once again inscrutable.  Alcar glares and sneers at him, but Glaisig only nods, very slightly, in return. 

Then our heroes are at the hedges, climbing over, and in the courtyard.  _Are we safe?_ wonders Gerontius.  _Or not until we are inside?  I wish I understood this place better..._

The drawbridge is down, but as they approach, Alcar- flying through the air- holds up a hand.  “Wait!” he calls.  “The drawbridge is an illusion!” 

“I bet that whatever is in the moat is _nasty,_” Sybele opines.  The party flies over the moat (which _looks like_ it is filled with muddy water) without ill effect, and through a doorway that leads onto a white walkway that runs almost in a complete circle about halfway up the wall of a spherical chamber.  A hole leads out of the lower half of the chamber.

“Wait a minute,” Alcar says.  “Wait a minute.  This room is usually full of water in the bottom part of the bowl.”

“Huh?” says Gerontius.  

“It’s a giant toilet,” Alcar explains.  “You get flushed down it.”

“That’s right,” Sybele exclaims.  “I remember that!”

Chakar, very conscious of Pan Lo’s presence, winces.

“Well,” says Thrush, demonstrating his practical side, “we might as well get on with it.”

“Just be careful.  Something weird is going on here.”  Alcar is clearly concerned.

Our heroes descend and move through the tunnel.  It twists upward in an S-shaped curve; near the top, a yucky smell warns our heroes that they are moving into an area full of feces.  Indeed, the room is huge; most of them have seen it before.  A great worm of feces traditionally awaits intruders, but this time the worm is dead, torn to bits.  

“I don’t like it,” declares Alcar, “we usually have to fight that thing.”

“And you _don’t_ like the fact that it’s dead?” Blaze asks dubiously. 

“It’s not right. It doesn’t _stay_ dead, or it shouldn’t.” The angel frowns fiercely.

The room bears a thick coating of sh-t over the floor and all the walls.  The stink is terrific.  One wall has been cleared to a significant extent, exposing a door that would otherwise be hidden by the fecal layer. 

“Someone has been here before us,” remarks Chakar. 

“Yep,” Sybele agrees.  Again, our heroes draw out weapons.  They open the door and find themselves at one end of a hallway with three doors out of it.

“I think we should open all three doors at once,” Jibber Junior says immediately.

“Left to live,” retorts Wankerman, reciting an off-spoken maxim of the party. (They nearly always take the leftmost path first.)

“Oh, come on!” urges JJ.

“I think we should just open ze closest one,” suggests Gerontius.

“Those two,” Mabrack rumbles with a gesture, “are equidistant from us.”

With a sigh, Chakar opens the door closest to him.  There is a large monster behind it.  It stands about 14’ high, and it has one arm that is much larger than the other.  Before it can even move, Alcar hits it with a _holy blast,_ maximized because of the _incense of meditation_ that he had used when he prepared his spells.  It gives a cry of pain.  Lillamere, meanwhile, casts _Marius’ double actions_ and then hits it with a _seeker missile_ spell.  It groans again as the baron’s argent savant powers of force explain just how Lillamere feels about big ugly monsters with big arms.  

The creature rumbles in pain and attacks, swinging its huge arm at Chakar!  The dwarven monk leaps aside, ducks and dodges, suffering a single grazing blow.  Then he spins in, landing several punishing kicks and punches in a flurry of blows on the creature.  

”Never mess with gnomes!” shouts Wankerman, mindful of the party’s magical disguise, and he spears the creature through the heart. It gasps, wheezes and slumps limply to the ground.  Immediately, Chakar closes the door.

“Where exactly are we supposed to go in here?” asks Thrush. 

Nobody answers.

After a moment, Lillamere says, “Well, we know we’re safe from Law in here.”

The opposite door contains a room full of food and drink.  There is a single large bed, as well.  

“Food?” Gerontius looks at it hopefully.  “Hey Alcar, can you tell if zis is safe?”

Alcar quickly performs an _augury._  “I believe that you will be safe,” he says after a few moments.  Gerontius happily begins to chow down, and a few others join him after a moment.  After all, they should be protected from poisons by the _heroes’ feast_ that they share almost every day.

“What else was in that room behind the monster?” queries Lillamere, as the halfling begins eating a slice of ham on a cracker with some cheese.  Hmm, that looks good; Lillamere gets one himself, as he notes that Gerontius is happily snacking and nothing bad has happened to him.

“There might be loot,” Thrush muses.  He sniffs at a pitcher, grunts and pours himself some wine. 

“It looked like there was some sort of cage in there,” Chakar remarks. 

“There’s also that other door, at the end of the hallway,” Blaze reminds the others.

“Let’s take a peek at it, and see what seems interesting,” Lillamere suggests.

Alcar says, “I don’t think that whatever preceeded us went through the big-armed creature. There may be something about it that prevents the guardians monsters from coming back.”

“Or they might just need some time to reset,” Blaze counters. 

“Possibly,” concedes Alcar. But he is still worried.

The door at the far end of the hall opens onto a perpendicular hallway, wide and damaged.  There are areas where it is clear that great force has been applied to the walls and floor; chunks have been torn out.  

“Whoever it was, they came this way,” Alcar murmurs. 

“But it’s just a hallway.  And besides, we don’t really need any more trouble right now, do we?” Sybele says plaintively.

“Let’s check it out for a little ways,” suggests Alcar. The others agree, and the party advances for a while, eventually finding a side passage with more damage to it. Traveling through it, the group emerges in what appears to be a huge natural cavern mostly filled with an underground lake or sea.  Gigantic mushrooms and strange fungi grow along the edge of the water. It soon becomes evident that the water has powerful intoxicating properties (Sybele, of course, is the one to test the succubus’ word on that).  Our heroes move across the lake via various forms of flight or _wind walking_, and then find themselves at an area with a series of colored doors.  Though they open two of the doors, both appear to be traps (the blue one allows a huge deluge of water to flow in, and the green one spews a massive wave of green slime). Thus, our heroes retreat from the colored doors and make their way back to the hallway from which they came.

Then they are back to the door that the big-armed guy had been behind. Our heroes prepare for the very real possibilty that they will have to fight him again, but fortunately, he remains dead- for the time being.  They find a cage holding a succubus disguised as a helpless woman within it; their perceptiveness is far greater than her ability to disguise herself.  To _true sight,_ a _polymorph_ is amateur stuff.  

Even so, she pleads to be let free.  “I know my way around this place,” she tells them. “I can show you a thing or two. I can give you pleasure...”

“No thanks, and don’t you offer that again!” chides Alcar, shaking his finger at her.

“But maybe a guide...” suggests Blaze.  

“A guide to where?” points out Mabrack.

“Well, at least we can rest here.”

“I’m telling you, I can help you,” the succubus cries. “I don’t want to stay in this cage! He-he’s a brute!”

“We’ll think about it,” Lillamere says. “Show us a sign of your good faith. Is it safe to rest in the room across the hall?”  

“Y-yes,” she stammers.

“Thanks.” The party files out.  Wankerman is the last one out; winking at the caged succubus, he closes the door.

“Should we do it?” wonders Lillamere.  “Rest? That gives them a chance to rest, too.”

“Time is not on our side,” says Mabrack. “They have Marius.”

“I kind of thought ze gods were going to ‘elp us,” complains Gerontius.

“Well, they gave us a safe retreat,” remarks Thrush. 

Mabrack asks, “Well, what are we going to do with it?” 

“That’s a very good question. Maybe there is someone who can help us.”  Lillamere looks very thoughtful indeed.

***

It takes a few moments of debate to decide.  Then, the party frees the succubus to use as a guide.  But again, the question remains: a guide to where?

“Somewhere where we might find somebody helpful,” suggests Lillamere.

“Allies of the gods, you know, those ones that hang out here a lot,” Sybele adds.

“You said you could show us a secret passage,” prods JJ. 

“Of course,” the succubus purrs. She leads them back into the well-appointed room.  As she promised, the demon shows them a secret- for above the canopy of the bed, in the ceiling, is a concealed passage!

“What is up there?” demands Lillamere.

“Folk that might be helpful to you.”

“Don’t try to play with us,” warns Gerontius.  “We killed Asmodeus.”

Our heroes ascend into the passage above.

_*Next Time:*_ Who might be helpful to our heroes?


*Sybele cannot remember names; an unfortunate (but hilarious) effect of the touch of Chaos upon her.


----------



## Krafus

You know, this is looking more and more like a cat-and-mouse game, only with the two sides alternating roles.

As to Gerontius's threat, I note he neglected to mention that the guy who laid the smackdown on Asmo is on the other side, heh heh...

Oh, and thanks for the NPC stats - I'm enjoying them.


----------



## Technik4

Hey Jester! Been a while, glad to see that Cydra is still around... Neat things are certainly happening, though its disappointing that law can't stick together  :\  Can't wait to see how things wrap up!


----------



## Seance

Ummmmm, BUMP man!


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## Reis_Thunderwood

Bump!  Back to page 1 with you.

Reis.


----------



## omrob

*Grievous wrist injuries*

Hi 

Im going to out the J on the grievous flying kick wrist injury he had a few weeks ago, thats prevented him from doing anything substantive on the story hour. 

I think hes mostly healed and we'll see some more stuff soon.

Take er EZ


----------



## the Jester

Yeah, omrob has got the reason right.  Wrist is getting better, but I am starting to think that I may have put a hairline fracture in one of the bones in my hand, which makes it a bitch to type.  

In the war between doin' a story hour update and doin' game prep so I can run my game, the prep wins 99 out of 100 times. 

Sorry guys!  Soon as I can there will be more.


----------



## hippiejediz

Everybody was Kung Fu fighting.


----------



## Baron Opal

Jester's hands were fast as lightning.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Jester, don't forsake us!  Update!


----------



## the Jester

*It's short, but better than nothing*

_*Somewhere on the Abyss*_ 

Seclaidra peers into her _mirror of minions_ and, somewhere inside, she smiles. _Well done, pet,_ she thinks approvingly. _Enemies of mine or not, the champions of Chaos are our best hope at laying low the forces of Law._ Her lips only twitch, despite her joy. The smile does not touch her eyes. For her joy at the terrible blows being dealt to Law is mixed with her distaste at the source of those blows. After all, those fools have had the audacity to challenge her in her own desmense!  

Well, she doesn’t expect _that_ to happen again. As long as she keeps her nose out of their affairs, Seclaidra fully expects to avoid any further unpleasantness with the heroes. _There is no need,_ she reflects. _They will all die of old age at some point, and until then, I can wait. I can bide my time._ She thinks about Darkhold, where our heroes are seeking sanctuary, and about the countless eons she spent there. She thinks about Fuligin and Felenga, and she frowns as she thinks about the signs of trouble that her agent has seen in Darkhold. Since the heroes released her, the succubus has been to the entryway and back and has seen the devastation. 

Seclaidra wonders. _She believes it was something breaking _out_ of Darkhold, not in to it,_ the demon queen thinks. She, a ruthless being of almost infinite age, with a heart blacker than pitch and fouler than lowest level of Hell, does not want to contemplate how awful the possibilities are.

***

_*Darkhold*_

Our heroes move up the ladder, through a long narrow shaft and up into a wide hallway of staircases flanked by traps, magical and mundane. They see strange, wide caverns of water that inflicts drunkenness. Darkhold is uncomfortably large, miles larger on the inside that it is on the outside. And, although it does not seem as insidiously dangerous and careless of their safety as other trips within it have shown it to be, Darkhold remains a place that they occupy uneasily, at best.

Who was the succubus referring to? Was she lying? Our heroes wonder, and wander, until they finally meet the moltarri.

Half molten rock, half crystal, the moltarri are taller than any normal man, though smaller than Thrush or Sybele.* They are even friendly- and when our heroes question them, it becomes clear why.

The so-called ‘New Gods’ are their friends.

Well, not friends, precisely; but allies. And much closer allies than our heroes would expect gods to be to mortals.

“Then again,” Baron Lillamere points out wryly, “_we’ve_ met the New Gods, so why not?”

“Yet Galador never shows himself,” Gerontius snorts disdainfully.

“Galador is a prisoner in Heaven,” Alcar declares. “I tried to get in to see Him years ago, when I was in good standing with Heaven and the other angels. No one gets through to see Him. I don’t even know when the last time He appeared was.”

“That might explain a lot,” nods Sybele. “Like how He can be all good and allow all the suffering caused by the Great War of Ethics!”

“Or maybe he’s just too busy to see most people,” suggests Wankerman. “He is a god, you know.”

“His appointment book is probably full for centuries,” notes Lillamere. 

***

The moltarri give gifts to our heroes, impressive gifts, and answer what questions they can. They do not know precisely who rampaged through or within Darkhold, but they know enough that it chills our heroes.

“Two Angels of the Apocalypse,” the moltarri tell our heroes.

“TWO!” erupts Alcar is dismay.

“What’s an Angel of the Apocalypse?” Thrush asks.

“Felenga,” Alcar replies. “Fuligin.” 

“Oh,” Thrush says. He looks pensive. After a few moments, he adds, “I guess there are more of them?”

“Back in the other world, the other time,” Alcar groans. “The world where Tharizdun ate Nature.”

“Humm,” nods Thrush. “Sounds ugly.”

“It was the end of the multiverse,” nods Lillamere. “Yeah, we’ve heard the story before, from Lester.”

“We have?” Thrush asks. He chuckles. “I kind of blow off a lot of his stories, to be honest.” Jibber Junior laughs at that.

“Well, you should pay attention to this one,” Alcar grunts. “The Angels of the Apocalypse were the agents of Tharizdun, which was some kind of bound dark god thing that devoured all of Nature in the old universe. Only Darkhold escaped, and Cydra came about as a- kind of an experiment, I guess. It only got made ‘real’ when Lester, Thinbleton, Hobbes, Stone and all of those guys went back in time and collected a bunch of stuff- look, it was pretty complicated.”

“Huh,” says Thrush. “So, I guess we should kill these ‘Angels of the Apocalypse’ then?”

Alcar sighs. 

Chakar interjects, “Wasn’t it a quest of over a century to slay Fuligin? And Felenga took years to defeat, too, did he not?”

“Look, it doesn’t matter right now,” Lillamere breaks in. “We have more important irons in the fire, remember? The Arrows of Law?”

“Oh yeah!” exclaims Sybele.

“We could rest,” the baron goes on, “but our super disguise and secure telepathic bond will only last so long...”

“Let’s get them,” Gerontius pipes up enthusiastically.

“I agree,” nods Alcar. “The longer we wait, the more time they have to prepare.”

“Then where are we striking next?” asks Chakar.

The party is silent, contemplating, for a moment. Then Baron Lillamere speaks up again. 

”The Tiger Empress.”

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes strike again!


*Both of whom are large sized these days.


----------



## hippiejediz

Welcome back J, props on the update, I trust you have at least 1.5 hands if you are able to update the SH. Killer as always. Though I recall some sort of elemental trap+doors+shannanigans, which I hope is not a spoiler. I remember a theme as to the gifts that were beseeched upon us by the molatrri though specifics are beyond me.


----------



## Seance

Hooray Jester!! Great Darkhold update. I think all the items the party recieved were made of crystal er something...


----------



## the Jester

The items the party members gained were:

*Mabrack-* a rod that let him use the following metamagic effects 2/day each on a spell up to the maximum level indicated: Explosive Spell (9th level), Empower Spell (6th level), Maximize Spell (3rd level).

*Lillamere-* boots that grant a +10 competence bonus to Balance, Climb, Jump, Move Silently and Swim checks, a +10’ enchancement bonus to land speed, and _haste_ as a swift action for up to 6 rounds/day.

*Alcar-* a medal that grants immunity to fear in a 30’ radius, a +1 morale bonus on attacks, saves and weapon damage rolls in a 30’ radius, and 1/day can cast _greater dispel magic_, CL 20.

*Chakar-* a headband that lets him use _ego whip_ 2/day at ML 16, _telekinesis_ 1/day at ML 16 and _clairaudience/clairvoyance_ 1/day, 10 round duration.

*Gerontius-* a _+4 ghost touch dagger of speed_ that counts as silver for purposes of penetrating DR; it also ignores the first 5 points of DR x/adamantine.

*Wankerman-* a _ring of protection +3, resistance +3 and feather falling_.

*Jibber Junior-* a pair of bracers that store 11 psionic power points, gives a +10 competence bonus on Psicraft checks, allows him to gain psionic focus 1/day as a swift action and gives _spell turning_ 1/day for 10 rounds. 

*Thrush-* a necklace that gives constant _water breathing_ and _planar adaptation,_ and once per day allows him to _heal_ himself (150 hp) and _see invisibility_.

*Sybele-* a third eye that constantly _detects magic, psionics_ and _secret doors_ and _discerns shapechangers._

Now, where were we?

***

_They’ve been hitting us in our loved ones. It’s time to turn the tables._

The party appears a few hundred yards away from the Tiger Empress’ base. Alcar casts _earthquake,_ and a moment later figures start appearing, _teleporting_ in to attack our heroes (who still appear to be a party of gnomes).

Then, in an instant, our heroes _superior teleport_ again, this time to a short distance from Cluma. Unfortunately for them, when they appear, their enemies- Prayzose, Cluma, Alyth and Marius- are all together, backed up by Prayzose’s personal guard (called the Eagles) and a cadre of inevitables and wearing many layers of magical defense, thanks to the time they gained from Marius’ _greater anticipate teleport_ spell. 

What ensues might best be described as ‘teleport shennanigans’, as multiple teleports of various kinds and _greater anticipate teleports_ poke each other in the eye, until finally Alcar _plane shifts_ the party to Olympus.

Over the secure telepathic link that the party received from Garnet, our heroes discuss a rather pressing issue: despite the _mind blanks_ covering the group, the forces of Law seem to be able to follow them. Lillamere suggests that there must be some kind of device on them that enables Law to track them.

_Master Control,_ Alcar suggests.

_Let’s get out of here! They’ll be on our tail any second!_ Sybele cries mentally. _And I know just where we need to go! And what to do to defeat them- we have to disable their spellcasting. I’ll use my _wildzone_ Gift of Chaos to foil Marius and Prayzose both!_

_Wait a moment,_ Chakar starts, but it is already too late.

Sybele psionically _plane shifts_ the party to the ever-changing Chaos of Limbo.

All around them, winds of paint howl and stretch in long strands of color. A tree sails by. A rain of water and frogs pours below them, on the not-ground. It is a dizzying, confusing environment...

“Let me,” Dorn Wankerman, Xaositecht, urges, and he exerts his will upon the environment. Long years of training in the ways of Limbo pay off. A large chunk of earth forms, and our heroes land upon it.

“Incoming,” announces Lillamere.

Our heroes brace themselves. The Arrows and their entourage appear, but our heroes are ready for them. Alcar uses a _miracle_ and a metamagic rod to ape a maximized empowered _delayed blast fireball_, and several of the inevitables are blasted to scrap and sparking wires. One of the Eagles goes down as well. Gerontius tumbles in and attacks Cluma, his daggers flashing as deadly as any weapon ever wielded. Blood sprays from where the Arrow suddenly finds deep wounds opening, and he cries, “Aargh!”

“You are ze biggest bitch of all of Law!” Gerontius taunts him. 

Thrush steps towards the mass of inevitables. He is, of course, larger than normal, thanks to the permanent _enlarge person_ on him; combined with the _elasticity_ that he is also affected by, this makes his reach enormous. Two massive hews of his sword drop the first inevitable, and he cleaves into another. It staggers back, badly damaged, and Thrush screams a war cry as he hacks into it again, finishing it off. He continues cleaving through several more, until there are none left within his reach.

Marius the Chronomancer growls, “You will rue the day you chose the side of Chaos!” He fires a quickened _disintegrate_ at Gerontius, but the wily halfling dodges! With a snort, Marius erects a _wall of fire,_ separating the others from the invisible blade.

Meanwhile, without, Wankerman and Sybele team up and finish off the Eagles. Things are happening _fast._ Wankerman hollars, “Cluma is a bitch!” Sybele cackles and whoops agreement. Lillamere, having cast _Marius’ double actions_ (and the irony of using Marius’ spells against him tastes _so good_ in Baron Lillamere’s mouth), casts two _crushing fists of spite_, one on Prayzose (who evades it completely) and one on Cluma. 

Cluma goes down.

“Cluma, you’re a _bitch!_” Lillamere crows.

Our heroes roar triumphantly. 

Chakar tumbles in on Marius. _This is it!_ he thinks, his spirit soaring. _I can get him!_

Unfortunately, Marius’ _contingency_ goes off when Chakar tries to grab him, and _mirror images_ spring forth. Chakar grunts; _A logical defense,_ he thinks.

“Good, Chakar, you are off to a good start,” Pan Lo says expressionlessly. “You must be aggressive. Like the mantis, you must grip to your prey.”

Meanwhile, Lord Alyth is a blur. He has pulled both of his legendary swords, _Judgment_ and _Execution,_ so fast that they seemed almost to simply appear in his hands; then he unleashes a flurry of attacks on Gerontius. Unfortunately for him, every one of his double-wielding attacks misses! That halfling (though disguised as a gnome) is slippery...

Mabrack fires off a maximized _magic missile_ at Lord Alyth. “You’re next!” he threatens. 

“That is enough,” Prayzose, God-Emperor of Forinthia, sighs. Regretfully, he draws forth his mace. The weapon glimmers steadily with holy power- and the power of Law. He glances at Gerontius, who is dancing around the blows of Alyth as he would those of a kobold commoner. Prayzose continues, “I am sorry. Some of you are my friends. I wish there was another way.” 

With that, he strikes Gerontius four times in rapid succession. Then, almost as an afterthought, he casts a quickened _flame strike_, which Gerontius is shocked to not evade. 

Prayzose glances at Alcar and shakes his head sadly. “Ah, Alcar,” he says, “that it has come to this...”

_*Next Time:*_ The _wildzone!_ Mad battle between our heroes and the remaining Arrows! The Limbo showdown!!


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Noone can stop forces of CHaos ! Neena Neena !  

You are avesome Jester. Giving many people reason to smile in the morning is the most noble gift from Ye.


----------



## Krafus

All right, more combat! And it looks like the heroes are down to the most powerful arrows (can't wait for the stats of Marius and Prayzose).


----------



## Greybar

Am I a bad person for cheering for Prayzose?  I mean, someone out there has to be able to at least threaten to kick the heroes' butts, right?  And Cluma sure wasn't able to make any difference.

Besides, I love the "noble villain", the antagonist who is opposed to the hero because of his goals but not actually a bad person.  It'd be cool for them to kill him and trap the soul to hold him just long enough to complete their current work, then let him go and forge a new alliance with him against whatever's coming out of Darkhold...

Oh, and Limbo is the *perfect* place to have this fight.


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## hippiejediz

Cheering for Prayzose does not makes anyone a bad person, but it does make anyone sound somewhat squarish. Especially with respect to Chaos vs Law, but not Good vs Evil.

Clulma is totally the BITCH. The other Arrows make fun of him as well I suspect.

Any more would be spoiler heavy, or not?!...Maybe?


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Heh ... I can see Chaos working it's way into teh Arrows of Law. 

DOOM ! DOOM ! CHAOS APPROACHES !


----------



## Alcar

*Arrows of B**CH*

Prayzose had a chance to not recieve my mace-to-the-face combo, but I guess he decided to act like Cluma, a bi**h. 
You didn't tell me nothing about no greater dispel (cl20) for my medal!!!
You sir are a cheater!!


----------



## the Jester

*What Happened to Lester and Orbius, Anyway?*

_*The Temple of Elemental Good, Dorhaus*_

Pressed in by tons of stone. Crushed, buried, with limited air. Lester groans. _Dragons?_ he wonders fuzzily. 

“Lester!” Orbius groans from beneath him. They are both stuck, entombed in the rubble of the Temple of Elemental Good.

_Don’t think about that yet. Got to get out. Got to get free._ Lester can taste dust. His wounds heal quickly, but how badly injured is Orbius? No way to tell. 

And there is no telepathic chatter. 

_Don’t think about that yet,_ Lester tells himself again. “Grab me,” he coughs. He feels Orbius’ hand clutch at his ankle, and then the elementalist triggers his _contingency._ Which triggers a _greater teleport._ 

Which takes Lester and Orbius to a mountain ledge high above the Temple of Elemental Good. After picking themselves up, the two of them can see the Temple. 

“Extensive damage,” Orbius says, his tone controlled, “and I can see multiple bodies.”

_Where are you guys?_ Lester asks over the telepathic link that they all share.

_Limbo!_ Chakar answers.

 “We need to get to the others.” Lester pulls out a scroll and opens a _gate_.

***

Limbo whirls and morphs in the background, changing from one thing to another from instant to instant. The rock that the battle is taking place on and around is subtly shrinking. The remaining Arrows of Law- Lord Alyth, Marius the Chronomancer and God-Emperor Prayzose, High Priest of the Light- are in pitched battle with our heroes, and already one of the Arrows, Cluma, has been slain.

Sybele triggers her _wildzone._ Heightened by the power of the chaotic realm that they are fighting in, a field of chaos magic extends around the battlefield. _Now that time wizard guy should be mostly disabled,_ Sybele thinks. Hopes. 

Alcar attempts a quickened _heal_ but only ends up with a squeaky voice (which Prayzose and Marius note with interest). He then moves in on Alyth, suffering a blow from Prayzose along the way. The angel is under the influence of _Marius’ double actions,_ so he unleashes a tremendous flurry of attacks. Most of them land solidly on the Arrow, and Alcar knocks _Execution_ from his hand! His mace crashes in on Alyth’s shoulder, smashes into his side. Alyth staggers. Alcar swings again, smashing into his foe’s head- and knocks everything above his lower jaw off of his body!* Alyth falls.

Meanwhile, Gerontius tries to fake out Prayzose- but to no avail. The God-Emperor is too wily to be bluffed. With a gulp, the invisible blade tumbles away. _He half killed me with that first series of blows,_ he thinks. _He will finish me if he gets his hands on me again!_

Then Thrush charges heedlessly through the _wall of fire_, moving in on Prayzose. “Greetings, Emperor!” he cries. _“I am your heir!!”_ He charges forward, swinging his sword- and Prayzose parries. 

Marius grabs Cluma’s body. _Coming to Limbo was a bad idea,_ he thinks ruefully. He steps to the edge of the rock. Over the telepathic link that the Arrows share, he tells Prayzose, _We can’t let them take Alyth’s body. They’re _soul binding_ our allies._

Chakar springs forward and grabs Marius by the arm. The chronomancer _sidesteps_ away and vanishes- for the _greater anticipate teleport_ that our heroes have up is still in effect!

Sybele uses _control sound_ to try to muffle Prayzose and stop him from using any spells. _Between that and the _wildzone_, I think we have him pretty well boxed in!_ she thinks. _We could win! But if Marius gets away, it won’t really be over- and he’ll try to kill my daughter by the dragon guy!_** 

Baron Lillamere _shape changes_ into a beholder, then glares at Prayzose with his central eye. He attempts to cast _Marius’ double actions_ (the party is really enjoying the irony of using Marius’ spells against them), but the _wildzone_ changes his spell into a fiery aura around him that burns him. “Ow!” he snarls through beholder lips. 

Mabrack flies up out of the antimagic field that Lillamere the beholder is projecting. Suddenly he grins as a _gate_ opens- and Lester and Orbius fly through!

“Where is Marius?!” Lester shouts. 

“He teleported away,” Mabrack says.

Orbius immediately casts _limited wish_ to ape a _teleport trace_. Mabrack’s eyes widen, and he shouts, “Wait!” But he is a second too late, and Lester and Orbius vanish- only to be caught in the _greater anticipate teleport!_ 

Shennanigens.

Prayzose reaches out with one hand to grab Alyth’s body, and Chakar springs in and tries to grab him. The God-Emperor hurls him back, then leaps off the edge of the shrinking island of rock and into the roiling chaos of Limbo. He falls.

Alcar attempts to bring him back with a _miracle,_ to no avail. (Curse that _wildzone!_ In an instant, our heroes pursue. 

Mabrack whips out his huge sword. Barrelling after Prayzose at _double action_ speeds, the storm giant roars a great war cry and slashes- not at Prayzose, but at Alyth’s arm, cleaving it asunder! The body spins away, and Alcar snags it. Prayzose draws forth a rod and touches it to Sybele, and there is a sound like a light bulb burning out. Then the God-Emperor gives our heroes a wry smile and _psionic plane shifts_ away.

“Back to the rock!” cries Lillamere. “We can still get Marius!”

Our heroes ascend, and Alcar casts a _soul bind_ on Lord Alyth’s corpse. The gem he holds begins to gleam from within, and our heroes cheer. 

Then they prepare, quickly, for Marius to return from the _greater anticipate teleport._

_*Next Time:*_ Will our heroes get Marius?? Will they attack Prayzose again?? Is it down to two Arrows, or will Cluma come back to life?? (The bitch.)

*In one round under _Marius’ double actions_, Alcar did 348 hp of damage to Alyth. Except for Lester and and completely healed Gerontius, that would have killed any of the pcs!

**Sybele has a half-dragon daughter named Jezebel (fathered by the steel dragon Kel). Marius kidnapped her when she was very young, and kept her for (subjective) years on the Plane of Time (she is now a teenager and an adventurer in her own right). When he gave her back to Sybele, part of the deal was that Sybele would perform 3 tasks for Marius. If she failed to do so when called upon, he would kill Jezebel. There is also some suggestion of a romantic relationship with Marius in the past, but that is a subject both vague and uncomfortable for Sybele (and, presumably, Jezebel).


----------



## hippiejediz

Awesome update J. I forgot about the Anticipate Teleport Shenannigans 

Gerontius has taken up the role of skill monkey/party tank (omitting Lester) since Inoke left. The Back Alley of 35 Wishes certainly helped G's hp though, the thunder worms made G a bit self conscious of his fragile mortal body. 348 pts of dmg would have left Gerontius swaying on his feet, but standing! With the dmg Alcar dealt, a 1st level brb could have dropped him, provided he could hit him.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

A conversation between Orbius and Marius in between sessions at the Caster's Conference:

Orbius:  So, I, uh . . . hestitate to ask, but you seem to know Jezebel very well, . . . after all you were  . . .

Marius:  Excuse me!

Orbius:  Well you know, if there's grass on the field . . . 

Marius:  Never!

Orbius:  Really?

Marius:  Of course not!

Orbius:  Are you sure?  I mean, I'll find out whether you tell me the truth or not.

Marius:  Yes!

Orbius:  For really real?

Marius:  Uh, . . . yes, . . . I mean, . . . , uh, no, . . . 

Orbius:  (To himself) Well, you don't have to be a diviner to figure this one out!  Man, being lawful sure does lead to a lot of self hate.


----------



## Krafus

Well, looks like it's down to the toughest Arrows, Prayzose and Marius, though Cluma might well be back soon... Btw, where's Inoke in all this? I kind of lost track of him with everything that's been happening. Oh, and if I were Prayzose and Marius, I'd try to summon reinforcements (or at least meat-shields) fast.


----------



## SpadeHammerfist

*errr*

Bump


----------



## omrob

Im in total agreement with you whomever you may be. Hey Jester how about an UPDATE?


----------



## the Jester

“Look!” shouts Gerontius, pointing. 

In the distance, through the churning chaos of Limbo, our heroes can make out several metal missiles burning towards them. _Master Control!_ thinks Wankerman over their secure telepathic link.

Baron Lillamere replies, _Let’s get out of here!_

_What about Marius?_ demands Alcar. _We can’t let him get away._

_The angel guy is right!_ Sybele’s mental voice is half-panicked. _He’ll kill my daughter!_

_Something’s happened,_ Lillamere says telepathically. _Marius’ destination has changed._

“How?” Mabrack cries aloud.

“Let’s go!” Lillamere exclaims. The group gathers and _teleports_ a thousand miles.

***

The answer, of course, is a simple _miracle_ cast by Prayzose. However, the emperor is not expecting the _teleport trace_ that Orbius cast via _limited wish_, so the sudden arrival of Lester and Orbius catches him off-guard.

Lester swoops in, grabs Cluma’s corpse and _plane shifts_ away, grabbing onto Orbius and talking his cohort with him. 

“Sh*t!” exclaims Marius.

***

Orbus and Lester reappear a few moments later, next to the party (thanks to a _superior teleport_). Alcar _soul binds_ Cluma, and everyone gets a last round of mocking in on the poor Arrow of Law.

“I still can’t believe he sued us,” Lester chortles.*

“So much for that,” Thrush answers wryly.

_Stay focused!_ Baron Lillamere warns. _We can’t give them any time to recover- with Marius, they can use it incredibly effectively._

_He’s right,_ Sybele nods. _We should press the advantage while we have it._

“Missiles,” Gerontius says suddenly, pointing. Indeed, off in the distance, the burning flames of the missiles’ exhaust stand out in the twisting chaos-scape like candles in the sky.

The party gathers together quickly.

_Let’s go kick some ass!_ Jibber Junior enthuses. _Where are we going?_

_To the Bastion of Order,_ Lester replies.

Again, the party _plane shifts_ (to Cydra), then _greater teleports_ to the Bastion.

“Now _this_ is how you do it!” Lester cries, and he casts _find the path_ to find the pool room in the Bastion. “We need to get to the devil room!” he declares. 

“Missiles,” warns Gerontius. Simultaneously, the group notices several huge, strange-looking weapon emplacements built into the towers. They are swiveling to fire at our heroes.

This time the missiles are too close, too fast. Almost everyone is caught in the blast, flames roaring over their bodies and shrapnel shredding arms, legs, backs. Screams of pain ring out, and then the party clumps up into groups. Alcar casts a _mass heal_ to heal the various wounds the party members have suffered, or at least as many of the wounds as possible. Then Lillamere and Orbius _teleport_ into the emplacements and _disintegrate_ the problem, while the others begin moving into the Bastion from a trap door in the ceiling.

A long line of orcish pistoleers move to oppose them. 

“Surrender!” Thrush calls to them. “If you do not, I will have to kill you all! I am the foremost swordsman of our age!”

They do not listen. 

Our heroes show no mercy. The pistoleers are the cream of the crop, the best of the best; they are, quite simply, the most elite pistoleers alive.

But our heroes are some of the most elite individuals of any kind alive. They have slain five Arrows of Law, now; and though the sunpowder weapons are frightful and deal telling wounds, they do not equal the odds. Our heroes cut them down, blast them to bits, overcome them easily. Lester’s _fireballs,_ JJ’s _energy waves_- they are enough to finish the pistoleers. But another, powerful orc has moved into play, dancing the dance with a falchion. He, too, is no match for our heroes. 

“This way! Alcar!” shouts Lester. “EARTHQUAKE!!”

Grinning, the Angel of Food, the Angel of Kickass, the Angel of Lost Causes, casts a spell. Suddenly the earth begins to shake and roar. Crevices open in the ground. From within the Bastion come cries of distress. The building itself shudders and creaks, but does not fall.

A troop of sword archons flies into view. Auras of pure righteousness flicker around them as they dive towards our heroes. With swords for forearms, they are formidable, and a good charge from one can completely obliterate a foe. But the party quickly moves through the door that Lester indicates. They find themselves in the chamber where they had fought the strange cubical Wrath of Law.

The sword archons pursue, and as the groups begin to melee, Alcar casts a second _earthquake._ Dust rises; the creak of straining metal is ominously loud. Things fall; the earth rumbles and roars. But the Bastion of Order _stands._

“This is it!” Lester shouts. Dotting the walls of the place are a series of portals. Telepathically, he cries, _The keys we need are through those portals!_

As the sword archons press their attack, several of our heroes dash through the portals.

And then Alcar casts another _earthquake._

_*Next Time:*_ Through the portals!


*Way back when, he sued the party to recover his sword after he was raised after they killed him in their very first adventure as a party.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Nice update, Jester!  Reading it makes me remember how kick butt that adventure was.

For those of you in the viewing audience, you may not have noticed, but we put off this quest until nearly the last possible second.  Jester thought we would do it earlier, designed the whole thing, then had to wait while we screwed around!  (10 sessions, minimum).

Jester, you forgot about Lester taking the missles head on!  They were dodging our walls of force, so Lester flew out and took several rounds on the chin for the party! (I love having 500 hps+   )


----------



## Krud

This story is... epic. Continue pls 

Seriously Jester, how far are you behind in Great Conflicts. And right now out of all your campaigns- conflict, halfling, low magic etc which campaign is played the most often/most looked forward to?

Anyway thumbs up. Updating that many story hours is appreciated. I'm following halfling way and great conflicts atm. Highlights are still Inoke>Asmodeous and Chief Jawbreaker.


----------



## the Jester

Krud said:
			
		

> Seriously Jester, how far are you behind in Great Conflicts. And right now out of all your campaigns- conflict, halfling, low magic etc which campaign is played the most often/most looked forward to?




As far as how far behind I am, look here. If you scroll down to about game 716, you can see that I'm about 4 games behind in Great Conflicts and about three games behind in the halfling story. There are two remaining unposted 3K&E games, plus a tiny bit at the end of one more; the rest is all the low magic one right now.

When running experimental rule sets, I run them almost exclusively as a block; that way we don't mix up which rules apply when.  Since the Year 271 Campaign has a huge number of changes to the system, we're playing it in 'arcs'. The first arc of the campaign ran from 642 to 666 (excluding 665), and the second arc runs from 722 on (with the 3K&E campaign running concurrently with different players, and with one epic game thrown in there due to the presence of an old player for a weekend- that would be the guy who played the infamous Belmondo the Enhanced).

As to which is 'most looked forward to'- well, you'd have to ask the players! I posted a poll on our Yahoo group (Cydra, if you're interested in checking it out), and it seems to come out damn close to even.


----------



## Knightfall

Excellent stuff, J. Keep up the good work.


----------



## the Jester

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> Excellent stuff, J. Keep up the good work.




Thanks, KF! 

Right now I really need to sit down with all the players and make some notes about who went through which portal etc. Normally, our notes are pretty darn good, but some areas are a lil, ahem, indecipherable, and what happens next iis one of them. So unfortunately, it's likely to be another week or thereabouts before I have another update here. 

But the next couple updates will be, shall we say, _dramatic._


----------



## Krud

Niiiiiiiice. They've just got to ice the remaining arrows


----------



## SpadeHammerfist

*errrr*

Bumpty-bump-bump

no offence meant!

And while I'm here can anyone refer me to any other Epic level Story Hours?


----------



## Krud

errr.... bump?


----------



## Seance

Come on Jester, BUMP!!


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Dun dun, dun dun dun, dunt (higher) do doodle doodle doodle 
Dun dun, dun dun dun dunt, (higher) do doodle doodle doodle 

Yes we're . . . Big Bumpin', story hour not killin' no trees
                    Big Bumpin', can we get an update please???

(This is more amusing if you sing it to Big Pimpin' by Jay-Z.    )


----------



## Seance

Just reread some storyhour-madness. I have to say again nice move by Lester/The Eye with bamfing in and snatching up Cluma. 

     That, ladies and gentleman, is why you dont F*** with Chaos!


----------



## the Jester

Should have the next update up in the next couple days. Maybe even tonight *crosses fingers*


----------



## the Jester

*The Keys*

Across the planes, battle rages. From Law to Chaos, all across the planes, the pendulum swings wildly. Things are shifting, the advantage shuddering from one side to the other every few minutes. Each time the upper hand shifts, the pendulum swings a little farther out. The back and forth strains the cosmos itself. It will not last much longer.

Chaos is ascendant, for the moment. 

Hidden in the rocks of Avernus, the First Hell, a horde of demons waits for the signal to begin their advance. They plan to take a certain very important portal in Tiamat’s lair; if they can succeed, they will be able to thrust deeper into the Hells than demons have gone in eons. The signal- when it comes- means that Tiamat is out of the way for the moment. Little do the demons know that this is all according to the dark plans of Hell’s new master.

Chaos is growing stronger and stronger with each passing moment- the Abyssal generals can sense it. The ancient battle of which the Blood War is only a piece is at its fiercest intensity. 

In the Upper Planes, the battle is less hot, but no less heated. Words, ideas, diplomacy and debate are the weapons. The Angels of Law are being pressed at every turn by those following Chaos. Bound by the rules of order of the Celestial Parliament, the forces of Law watch helplessly as the wilder elements of the parliament claw their way towards ascendancy. 

Even on the Inner Planes, normally unconcerned with such young concepts as morality and ethics, great elemental powers take note of the shifting of things. Old alliances are terminated, new ones forged; deals are made and broken. Things are shifting. One way or the other, things are shifting _today._ 

On the Material Plane- Cydra- Law and Chaos wrestle roughly, throwing all their reserves into play. The greatest worldly champions of each side are engaged, _right now._ The strain on the universe is growing unbearable.

***

_*Sigil*_

The Purple Pool is a little-known gambling hall with a penchant for intrusive divinations. It is named after the strange pool in the basement, full of strange, purplish fluid. The clients of the Purple Pool will often pay very dearly for an hour in the basement. The pool vastly enhances scrying. 

At the moment, there are almost fifty people in the basement, including the owner, Kaprack Kalkrack. Kaprack, an avaricious dwarf, smiles beneath his thick moustache. Say what you will about the fighting going on all over the multiverse, it is making him a ton of money. People have money riding on a lot of different battles, and from here, they can watch them all. And, aside from his own wagers, he gets a cut of all the winnings of everyone else in the place! 

He glances around. Interestingly, there are a few demons and devils in the place even now. 

Kaprack’s eyes are very keen. _What’s this, now?_ Kaprack thinks in surprise. One of the abishai just slipped the balor a note on its way out of the basement. _Devil and demon, conspiring?_ thinks the dwarf in shock. _Well, well- who is the traitor to their kind, I wonder? Well, none of my business; best to stay out of it._ 

But the thought that the information might be worth _a lot_ of money definitely occurs to avaricious little Kaprack. 

The balor finishes his scrying session and leaves. 

***

_*Avernus*_

Tiamat, Queen of Evil Dragons, laughed from three of her heads, while her blue head growled, “He means to do it again, doesn’t He?”

Glaisig, the Hidden Minister, the face for the commands of Lucifer, says nothing. His meaning is both clear and opaque: certainly, _It is not for me to say,_ yet _of course he does_ could be hidden in there. _Could be._ And there was certainly a hint of _How dare you ask such a thing_ in there, regardless of whether she was right or wrong.

“GLORIOUS!” she thunders from her green, red and blue heads together. “LET THE HOUSE OF ASMODEUS FALL, AND WE ANCIENT SHALL ARISE YET AGAIN!!”

***

_*Cydra*_

Just to review: Our heroes are the champions of Chaos, throwing themselves against the champions of Law, the Arrows of Law. They have defeated most of the Arrows, but the two most formidable- Prayzose, God-Emperor of Forinthia and High Priest of the Light, and Marius, the Chronomancer- are still alive and ready to fight. However, our heroes do not just need to defeat the Arrows to claim their victory; rather, they need to despoil the Pool of Law in the Bastion of Order _and_ defeat the Arrows.

To get to the Pool, our heroes need to recover seven keys, which they believe to be hidden inside the seven personal demiplanes of the Arrows. They have just reached the portals, with the Bastion shaking and threatening to come down around them due to a multiple _earthquake_ treatment from Alcar. 

And let’s not forget- our heroes are under a very powerful illusion that disguises them as gnomes. Though their adversaries know that the ‘gnomes’ are really our heroes, they can’t tell who is who!

Now, if I’m not mistaken, we’re pretty well caught up.

***

Steel screams as it bends and twists. Bits of the upper level begin collapsing down. Our heroes- and their adversaries- struggle out of the way of the debris. The entire Bastion creaks and groans.

Alcar cackles as he prepares to cast another _earthquake._ He is going to destroy the Bastion! _And I can rescue my friends, or even bring them back later, if they are hurt or killed,_ he tells himself.

Heedless of the danger, Lester and Orbius plunge through the first portal, vanishing immediately from view. Meanwhile, the remaining sword archons are swinging around and flying in for another attack. The celestials’ burly arms end in great sword blades, flaming and gleaming with holy might. Gerontius, Mabrack and Wankerman hold them off for a moment as, below, Chakar moves into a different portal than the one that Orbius and Lester moved through. The archons rush at JJ (who is protected by a _stoneskin,_ thanks to Mabrack) and Alcar, but the demi-slaad’s next _energy wave_ blasts them from the sky.

***

_*A demiplane*_

Lounghly Blackeye, Last Disciple of Asmodeus, stands behind the desk. _They will come soon,_ he thinks sourly. _They slew my lord. But I can use them. They did not do it of their own accord. They were Lucifer’s pawns. Well, if I have my way, they’ll be my revenge! If I can get them to slay Lucifer, it will avenge my master- and perhaps open the path for me to gain infernal power. If I can capture some of his energy somehow..._

Suddenly Lester and Orbius plunge through the portal and find themselves in a richly-appointed study. A graceful looking tiefling man with small horns protruding from his forehead stands behind the desk, his hands in plain view. He is marked by a strange brand across the left side of his face and his left eye. “Greetings,” he hisses.

“Who are you?” calls Lester. 

“It doesn’t matter. I know who _you_ must be.” He holds up his hands as Lester draws out his sword. “But lest you misunderstand me, I mean you no harm.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Lester snaps.

“Where is the key?” demands Orbius. 

“I will give it to you- but-”

“Yeah, yeah, you want us to do something for you in return. Well, what is it?” Lester grumbles.

“You must swear that you will destroy Lucifer.” There is a cold fury in the tiefling’s voice. 

“We can do that, no problem,” Lester snorts. “What’s your beef with him, anyway?”

“Here is the key,” Lounghly says instead, pulling forth a black iron key. He hands it to Lester. “Make haste.”

_He’s right,_ Orbius sends telepathically, and they retreat through the fog that cloaks the face of the portal.

***

Outside, the Bastion shudders again as a third _earthquake_ roars through it. Dust rises. Stuff falls over, including some walls. The metal is screaming and ripping in places. More archons are swooping in, but Sybele picks them out of the sky with her bow. JJ fires a large _crystal shard_ at one of them. The archons dodge and weave and fall, 

Gerontius darts through the portal that Chakar went through and vanishes. 

Most of the Bastion’s defenders have been rendered impotent by the combination of earthquake collateral damage and our heroes’ intense assault. Alcar sees no other real opposition, but the Bastion still stands. He begins invoking his new god, Bless, and calls down another _earthquake._

Finally, the Bastion of Order falls. 

The scream of twisting metal, the shattering of wood and stone, the cries of those caught in the rubble- including many of our heroes- combine to form a cacophony of noise that blots out the world for several seconds. 

Alcar whoops.

***

_*A demiplane*_

Chakar glances up from his search as Gerontius enters. The area that he is in is a fairly small suite of rooms. It has a small study and a bedchamber in it. A small fireplace crackles warmly at one end of the place. 

“Did you come to help search?” Chakar asks. Gerontius nods. However, when he approaches the fixtures and furnishings, he finds that he cannot actually touch any of them. Somehow, he just can’t seem to overcome an aversion to doing so. 

Chakar shrugs. “I’m not having any trouble.”

_You’re lawful,_ the halfling replies over their telepathic bond. _I wonder if zat ‘as anything to do with it?_

_Possibly,_ Chakar admits thoughtfully. Then he exclaims, “Aha!” He turns to Gerontius, a key clutched in his hand. “I found it!”

“Great!” Gerontius replies. “Now let up ‘ope that our friends have found ze others!” They plunge back out of the portal- and find themselves in the midst of a mess of broken metal and, well, Bastion. They are just in time to see JJ leap through another portal and vanish. Fortunately, all the portals are visible. 

JJ reappears. “Inevitables!” he cries. He looks shaken; his ears are bleeding. 

Wankerman shouts, “Dammit!” and starts clearing rubble, hoping to uncover one or more of our heroes. Pan Lo and Chakar pitch in; meanwhile, from under the rubble, both Lillamere and Mabrack take advantage of their _shape change_ spells to escape- Mabrack as a snake, Lillamere as a phase spider. The baron resumes his normal form long enough to free Sybele with a _disintegrate_. She struggles to her feet and rushes through the portal that JJ had gone through, vanishing from view. 

JJ shrugs and cries, “Wheee!” He springs through another portal and immediately falls of the party’s telepathic bond.

“Uh-oh,” groans Lillamere.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes have two of the keys- will Law stay off their backs long enough for them to acquire the other five? Don’t count on it!


----------



## the Jester

SpadeHammerfist said:
			
		

> Bumpty-bump-bump
> 
> no offence meant!
> 
> And while I'm here can anyone refer me to any other Epic level Story Hours?




No offense taken! 

Try TAles of Wyre (posted by Cheiromancer; it's actually Sepulchrave's).

Also, Piratecat's (now locked) story hour rocked!

Wizardru's old SH ended up epic, but started at 1st level iirc.


----------



## Angel of Adventure

The BUMPty Dance is your chance, . . . to do the BUMP (Do me baby!!!)
Yeah do the BUMPty BUMP, Yeah do the BUMPty BUMP!

(Sounds best to Humpty Dance by Digital Underground)

Jester, update when you can, though I understand if you are slow.

For those of you who don't know, Jester had a birthday recently (he just turned 13, congratulations on your manhood, Jester!) so he'll probably need 3-6 weeks before he can type proficently again.  However, this will not stop me from doing the BUMPty

BUMP!!!!


----------



## SpadeHammerfist

*er-hm...*

You say you wannna get a little BUMP in here
Shaking the room, give it the boom
Cmon
You say you wanna get a little BUMP in here
It's all good.
You gotta listen when the girls say
Everybody get a little BUMP in here
Level to ten, bump it again
Cmon
Say you wannna get a little BUMP in here
It's all good
You gotta listen when the boys say

thanks to Raven Symone


----------



## Angel of Adventure

Does any one know any Insane Clown Posse rhymes?  Jester is a big fan and would probably update if someone could kicked own an ICP bump!


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Does any one know any Insane Clown Posse rhymes?  Jester is a big fan and would probably update if someone could kicked own an ICP bump!




Jester is so busy this month that he has declared himself on gaming hiatus until after Burning Man.    

This will be the first time since about 1997 that I've gone a month without gaming, excepting the time I was traveling in Asia.


----------



## Alcar

*Bump*

You sir, need to update,

UPDATE


----------



## the Jester

Alcar said:
			
		

> You sir, need to update,
> 
> UPDATE




After I finish moving... come back from Burning Man... go pick up my dogs... and get the Intarweb at my new place. 

To be honest an update is still a couple weeks off, most likely.


----------



## SkyK

Well, unless you're the guy who set fire to the Man a half week early, you should be back now


----------



## Angel of Adventure

We are foresaken!!!!

Please update, if only to show that you still care.  

Seriously, Jester, we are all looking forward to the next update.


----------



## the Jester

Don't worry, guys, I will post an update soon!

To be honest, I haven't really done any writing since I got back from Burning Man. I've had a hard time combining the time, energy and focus that I need together. But I'm working on an update for this thread right now!  Hopefully it will be up in the next few days sometime...


----------



## the Jester

*The Fortress of Two Woes, Pazunia, The Abyss*

The rancid stench of boiling fat, blood and bile fills the superheated air. The air ripples with heat, distorting the depraved carvings melted into the metal of the tower. The great balor Nnuhlfit, one of Demogorgon’s generals, grins in malevolent triumph. In his hand he clutches a sheet of dull copper-colored metal. Scriven upon it: a map.

Nnuhlfit fairly howls in glee, but he restrains himself. Certainly, among his courtiers there are spies for Hell. If any of them were to realize the magnitude of the map in his hand... surely, the Archdukes would put aside all else to take it from him. For mapped out on that orichalcum sheet are portals from Avernus, the first plane of Hell, to _five_ of the deeper layers!

_This could win the Blood War,_ Nnuhlfit thinks with malignant joy. And then the burn of ambition ignites within him: _I could break away from Demogorgon. I could use this to become mightier than any other balor- to become a demon prince myself. I could be Nnuhlfit the Mighty, Exterminator of the Devils!_ He exults in the thought for a few moments, but then, reluctantly, he thinks, _But even if my army stays loyal to me rather than Demogorgon, once word got out of what I had- and to make use of it, I must make my prize known- the devils and many demon princes would be after it. I would not have a force sufficient to defend myself. And there is no Abyssal lord able to protect me from the wrath of the Twofold One if I defect to the service of another._ Reluctantly, the balor issues a _sending_ to Demogorgon: _I have a great prize for use against the devils, that might allow your mighty armies easy ingress to deep layers of Hell._

The response is instant, and in two voices- two terrible, mighty voices- at once: _Bring it to the Gelid Lagoon. At once._

Without hesitation Nnuhlfit vanishes from his tower. His master- or masters, depending on how one looks at it- will brook no delay in a matter such as this. Nnuhlfit knows that any attempt to take advantage of his current possession of the map would tempt sheer annihilation; yet, with luck, his master(s) will remember the balor’s... _loyalty_... later.

***

_*The Bastion of Law*_

Gerontius flies down into the rubble of the Bastion of Law and zips through the portal that JJ seemingly encountered inevitables. A mere instant after Lillamere blasts the rubble atop her with a _disintegrate,_ Sybele scrambles to her feet and launches her large self after the little halfling, vanishing from view as well.* 

A serpent slithers from beneath some of the rubble, and over the telepathic link that our heroes share, Mabrack tells the other, _Hey, I’m the snake, guys, nothing to worry about!_ Meanwhile, Wankerman and Chakar toss rubble aside with superhuman strength and speed even as Veil/Graz’zt _greater teleports_ out from under the great chunks of rock and metal burying her/him.

“Yes, Chakar,” Pan Lo intones. The Perfect Master continues to watch serenely, his arms crossed before his body, his hands up the wide sleeves of his robes. “Use your strength and focus. Even in such a menial task, you have a dedication that does you credit.”

_I wish that old bastard would show some dedication himself,_ complains Wankerman sarcastically.

The forces of Law have not yet responded to the current situation. _We’ve thrown them into disarray and confusion!_ Veil exults over the link. _Now we have them!_

In a few short moments, Thrush is free. With a grunt of annoyance, he brushes a few chips of stone from his breastplate and dashes through the second portal that JJ penetrated. Wankerman springs after him, grinning like a madman. Chakar follows without hesitation.

***

_*A demiplane*_

On the other side of the portal, Sybele and Gerontius immediately find themselves pressed by inevitables. The planar constructs blast at them with mystical energies and strike with their metallic fists, but by the time that Baron Lillamere and Alcar appear through the portal behind them, it is clear where the advantage lies, and in a moment more, our heroes are searching through the twisted wreckage of springs and gears. Strange oils pool on the floor from the shattered inevitables. The walls are adorned thickly with pipes, hoses, plugs, wires and strange apparati. The place smells strangely of metal and weird, unidentifiable things. 

“Anything?” asks the angel.

“Do you forget ‘oo you are with?” Gerontius retorts wryly. 

In his small blue hand is a key.

***

_*The Purple Pool, Sigil*_

Kaprack Kalkrack, proprietor of the Purple Pool, nods seriously to his guest. They sit together in his office, which is warded against both mundane and magical eavesdropping. “I know what I saw,” he says. “I don’t know what it means, but I know it’s worth something to you bashers. I know that, _today especially,_ you need every edge that you can get. And I’ve heard about you.” He leans back, stroking his moustache speculatively. “I know who you work for, and I know that, even though he’s the old boy, so to speak- he’s still the new kid in town. He’s just back after a long absence, and his house needs putting in order.” He grins. “I figure, this information might be worth a lot to your boss. Think about it- either he gets a hold on one of your folk because they’re treating with the enemy, or he finds out who a demon that is already compromised is. You can’t lose.”

“Of course,” purrs Glaisig. His face is impassive. “I will give you 10,000 gold pieces for the information.”

Kaprack snorts. “Come on, now, I’m a businessman!” he boasts. Soon the haggling starts, and after Glaisig leaves his office with the names of the abishai and the balor that Kaprack saw conspiring, the dwarf finally allows himself to take a deep breath and wipe off his brow. _I’m glad that’s over,_ he thinks in relief. _And the price was right, too. Almost 24,000 gold! _And_ the keys to certain deep areas in the Hells! You’d think his boss didn’t care if those were compromised!_

More fool he, Kaprack never thinks to follow up on that thought.

***

_*A demiplane*_

JJ is there, ahead of Thrush and Wankerman. He is not moving, but it’s not like he is lying on the ground or anything; he is standing in front of the others, unmoving as a statue. 

“Weird,” Wankerman breathes.

“Yeah,” Thrush nods. “What do you think, Chakar?”

“I don’t know.” Chakar takes a step forward and touches JJ. 

“Chakar?” Thrush gulps. 

The dwarf is no longer moving.

”They’re in some kind of stasis,” opines Dorn Wankerman. He grins. “But I bet we can find that key anyway!”

_Hey, Chakar just dropped off the link,_ a telepathic message from Lester comes. _What’s going on in there, guys?_

_Some kind of stasis thing,_ Thrush thinks back.

_You must be in Marius’ demiplane,_ Orbius declares. _Come on, Lester, we’re going through after them!_ And a moment later, both Lester and Orbius enter the demiplane through the portal behind them.

“Well, well,” declares the Eye smartly. “This is Marius’ handiwork, all right- some kind of _temporal stasis._ Hmph! Let’s see what I can do about this...”

***

_*The rubble of the Bastion of Law*_

Alcar bites his lip as he emerges from the portal to the inevitable demiplane. He’s not having second thoughts about his course of action; for the first time, he feels as if he truly _belongs_ in his faith. As a Galadorian, he was always a heretic; as a follower of Bless... the dogma is _him._ 

_We have another key,_ Lillamere announces  over the link. The argent savant smiles fiercely as he feels Chakar and JJ come back onto the link. Clearly, someone has managed to do something about their situation.

_I think- ah! We’ve found one as well,_ Orbius announces a moment later.

_Four,_ thinks Lillamere. _We have four of the keys. We’re almost there!_

Alcar, meanwhile, issues a _sending_ to Prayzose: _Don’t fight us. We don’t want to kill you. Can we talk about this?_

The answer gives the angel pause: _Will you open your mind to me?_

He hesitates for a moment. _How much do I trust Prayzose?_ he wonders. _Everything is on the line now. Do I dare let him into my mind? He is eminently Lawful- if he swore an oath not to tamper with my mind...

But _everything_ is on the line here._

He hesitates in indecision; when the mental touch from Prayzose comes, Alcar refuses to open his mind, and the questing tendril of thought withdraws gently. 

_I think I have just refused parlay,_ Alcar realizes, an instant before the sky belches fire and a blast of blazing heat emerges as a _gate_ opens. An instant after that, Gerontius barely has time to cry, “Look, in the sky over there!” –pointing _away_ from the gate- before the world explodes.

_*Next Time:*_ The Omega Horror! Pasha Amhari Ifroobil! The leshay hunting Sybele! And Pan Lo _finally acts in combat!!!!_


*Bear in mind that the touch of Chaos has granted Gerontius the air subtype, which allows him to fly, and Sybele is large-sized, also due to the influence of Chaos- in her case, from her prestige class (warrior of Chaos).


----------



## Seance

Kickass Jester!  (freak...)


----------



## Knightfall

Great. Simply great.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

the Jester said:
			
		

> And Pan Lo _finally acts in combat!!!!_




Will world survive *that* ?


----------



## the Jester

Mounted on a beast that looks like liquid, white-hot fire, Pasha Amhari Ifroobil, pretender to the throne of the Prince of Elemental Evil Fire, arrives. Twenty efreeti rangers accompany him on his hunt. He will not be denied his prize. He will not! Their fingers will join those of other worthy hunts around his neck.

With a fierce shout of joy he draws _Stormthrower,_ his bow that is bane against elves, dwarves and humans. As his mighty mount rears and lunges, the Pasha begins to open a _gate_ to the Material Plane, where he will attack and kill his predecessor’s destroyers! Then, surely, all the evil fire creatures will acknowledge him. “Today we hunt mortals!” he cries. There is a collective shout of glee from his hunters. “We will take them- those who slew Imix! For Elemental Fire! For Elemental Evil! For _Amhari Ifroobil!!_” The hunters roar their approval again.

There is a blaze of oily cold from the other side, and the _gate_ stabilizes. The accursed Material Plane! With a snarl, Amhari Ifroobil shouts, “After me, my hunters!! To the mortal plane!” He kicks the beast of Sustarre in the flanks and it leaps through the opening between worlds with the speed of a flame.

Strewn before the efreeti is wreckage. The shattered remains of a powerful fortress, and not far away- the ones the Pasha seeks. 

Then he sees Pan Lo and his eyes widen. 

“CHARGE!!!” roars Amhari Ifroobil.

***

In the sky far above the tumbled ruin of the Bastion of Order, an omega horror circles. Its sensors and radiocrystal brain have a solid grip of the situation, and it is in constant contact with Master Control via radio. Thus, when the appropriate moment finally comes- signified by an electric command from Master Control- the omega horror, a sleek egg of black metal destruction, unsheathes its weapons and goes to work. 

Missiles launch, plumes of fire pushing their destructive payloads towards their targets. The horror cycles up its two laser cannons, as well; they have the range to reach across the mile of distance separating the machine from our heroes. 

The missiles speed through the clouds. A few seconds after launching the first volley, the horror launches a second. Simultaneously, Master Control mobilizes a concerted attack by the millions of tiny horrors so small that they are barely visible to the naked eye. They begin to swarm towards our heroes. But the first volley of missiles gets there first, exploding and spraying shrapnel and flames all over the party. They scream in pain and surprise, and then the omega horror’s laser blasts open up on Wankerman. He yells in pain and surprise, scrambling for a potion of _cure serious wounds_.

The horror’s scanners alert to a sudden change in the situation. _Thermal anomoly... planar anomoly... gate detected..._ It alerts Master Control, who immediately discards the arrival of the Pasha as irrelevent. Then the horror begins diving in towards the party, needing to close the distance to bring the remainder of its weapons to bear.

***

As the black metal machine fires blasts at Gerontius and screams through the air towards them, the band of efreeti begin to close the distance as well. Our heroes are suddenly under a pretty severe assault. More missiles blast in and explode around them. Even if they don’t hit directly, they still do enormous damage in a pretty large range...

Wankerman, badly wounded from fire, gulps his potion, then cries out, “If anyone has any healing, I could sure use it!” He grips his spear and prepares to attack.

Baron Lillamere cries, “Wait! It isn’t healing, but this might help anyway!” He casts _protection from fire_ on the xaositecht, and then launches a _seeker missiles_ spell as a rebuttal against the omega horror. Then, suddenly, tiny little pinpricks of pain start swarming all over him- him, and several others in the party! Chakar sprints away, trying to avoid keeping the party in ‘fireball formation’, and then the battle turns into sheer chaos, between the swarm, the explosions of the missiles and the blasts from the horror, the _fireballs_ from the pasha and from party members, and the swirl of bodies and blades as everything engages at once. 

Graz’zt scrambles away from the main body of the combat and to one of the portals. _Did we already get this one?_ he asks over the permanent psychic link that the party shares. When Baron Lillamere responds in the affirmative, he points at another one of the portals. _What about that one?_

_No,_ Lillamere replies.

Veil/Graz’zt thinks, _I’m _teleporting_ over to it-_ She vanishes.

_Wait-_ Lillamere curses aloud. Graz’zt/Veil has been caught in the _greater anticipate teleport!_

Gerontius flips through the air, tumbles and twists, and finally ends up, somehow, with a knife in the pasha’s wrist. With a startled laugh, Ifroobil frowns at the hot blood dripping from the wound. Gerontius tumbles back away (thanks to _Marius’ double actions_), but then frowns in dismay as the wound starts to stitch itself shut.

Lillamere is frowning, too; his _seeker missiles_ stop short against some kind of force field around the horror. The omega horror is concentrating its fire against Gerontius, who is taking a fair amount of punishment. Though the missiles have stopped, the omega horror is firing multiple different extremely destructive weapons. The harried little halfling can only dodge and flip so much. 

Then Amhari Ifroobil and his white-hot steed charge Gerontius in a blazing comet of incandescent flame and hellfire. Nothing Gerontius has done has prepared him for this- this blazing blast exploding all around him. He screams. 

Just then, Pan Lo emerges from one of the portals and sees the Pasha. His eyes narrow to slits. For the first time since the party met him, he seems inflamed.

“You there!” he cries. “You owe me my staff!” 

Pan Lo leaps across nearly the entire ruin of the Bastion of Order, then rushes the rest of the way to him. Amhari Ifroobil looks startled, and a little bit distressed, to see him.

Gerontius feints at the burning mount, distracts it, and stabs it in the eye- to little effect. _It is an elemental,_ he realizes, _it has no vital organs for me to attack! Well, the same is not true of the efreeti._ With that, he turns his attentions to Ifroobil, and a few cuts later, he has inflicted several severe cuts and stab wounds. 

“Foolish mortal!” the would-be Archomental of Evil Fire sneers. “I will slay you and make a dice cup from your skull!”

_We’re letting ourselves get distracted,_ he realizes- and sends over the mental link. _The keys! Focus on getting the keys!_ With that, the baron steps through another of the portals. 

Suddenly Sybele howls in pain and drops to the ground. Blood is everywhere!

“Honey!” Thrush shouts aloud.

“Oh my god,” croaks Mabrack. “Her foot!”

To be precise, her foot is _gone._ Shot clean off, with almost surgical precision, with a medium-sized arrow.

“Someone _shot her foot off with an arrow,_” Thrush says in disbelief.

Screaming, howling in pain, Sybele shouts over the mental link, _It’s the leshay!_

_*Next Time:*_ Everything pretty much happens at once.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Avesome !


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

You know, every now and then I come back in to this story hour because I have a bit of spare time.

And every now and then I am reminded of how utterly awesome it is. Thank you!


----------



## the Jester

Thanks guys!! 

I should have another update coming in the next few days- if not before then, then sometime on the 1st, I'll wager.


----------



## Alcar

Good show


----------



## the Jester

_Hey guys, what do we do?_ Sybele sends across the permanent telepathic bond that connects our heroes. Her pain bleeds, sharp-edged and raw, through her mental voice. Blood is pouring from her ankle, where her foot was just a moment before, right before the leshay stalking her shot her foot off.

_Shot my foot off,_ she thinks, amazed. _With an arrow._ She can hardly believe it; she’s an amazing archer herself, but this fellow- she has to admire his skills, despite the fact that he is hunting her.

Then another arrow rips into her side, a shaft of utter pain that makes her scream like a little girl, rather than the eleven foot woman that she is.

Everything is happening at once. Pasha Amhari Ifroobil, pretender to the throne of the Archomental of Evil Fire, and his hunters are charging into the fray. The strange, mechanical thing known as an omega horror continues to fire blasts of force, of heat, of electricity; it continues to launch huge explosive missiles. The leshay is a blur, _teleporting_ from its initial hiding place to a new, unseen vantage from which it can fire at Sybele. 

Meanwhile, the tiny horror swarms continue to assail the party; they distract, slicing at skin and flesh, sizzling with electricity. They are so small that they appear to be motes of dust in the air, but they move with horrible purpose.

JJ grimaces at the swarms. He furrows his brow as he concentrates, bringing forth a wild surge, and he unleashes a blast of mind-generated electricity. It fries the swarm on him, and he quickly ducks through one of the portals, the same one that Baron Lillamere just went through. There is a large pool on the other side; in the center of it is an island, atop which is a fortress. Behind him, a wobbly Sybele, trailing a flood of blood, flies in after him. (After all, the leshay can’t shoot at her without following her in!) 

Outside, Gerontius and the Pasha continue their duel. Thrush joins in the fun, hacking and slashing at the evil fire genie with a bellow of challenge. The Pasha parries, spins, slashes; fire licks out over our heroes. His mount rears, kicking and biting. White-hot flames burst from it whenever one of our heroes wounds it. The battle is tremendous, running hotter with every passing second. Thrush and Gerontius throw themselves aside as the omega horror’s terrific weaponry blow chunks of the surrounding rubble into, well, more rubble, narrowly missing them- at least, mostly. Thrush, at least, suffers several searing hits, blasting his flesh and inflicting horrific burns on him. He falls back for a moment, gritting his teeth; behind him, Wankerman slips into another of the gates.

_Good!_ thinks Gerontius. _We have to get the keys, then despoil the Pool of Law- and then this will be over!_ But then, he is forced to amend, _Once we defeat all the Arrows of Law, at least..._

Then Pan Lo steps in between them, unleashing a tremendous flurry of blows! The Pasha howls as Gerontius slips his knife between the efreeti’s ribs. He slashes out with his blades, explodes _fireballs_ around them all, but he cannot stand up to the amazing damage dealt by Gerontius and the Perfect Master. A final kick from Pan Lo snaps his neck, to a collective gasp from the efreeti hunters. They scream in rage, and all twenty launch _fireballs_ at Pan Lo!

There is a massive _whoomph_ as twenty overlapping explosions rip through the area at which Pan Lo, Thrush and Gerontius stand (or fly). Fire blossoms like flowers, red, orange, white, yellow. Thrush screams again. The heat makes the air ripple. For a moment, smoke obscures the scene, and then, as it clears, Pan Lo becomes visible. 

He is untouched. 

The Pasha’s hunters, elite servants of the now-dead Amhari Ifroobil, would-have-been Prince of Elemental Evil Fire, flee like whipped dogs. 

Fortunately for our heroes, the mighty overlapping blasts of flame have destroyed the swarming micro horrors. The omega horror, however, is still in the game. Pan Lo finds himself the target of a massive burst of firepower, including missiles. He manages to twist away from the majority of the blasts, but even he cannot avoid it all. 

***

Inside the portal, Lillamere flies over the top of the fortress, and within the courtyard he can see a huge amount of gold. Unfortunately, he finds that he cannot approach it. Examining the area with magically-augmented senses, he quickly ascertains that the magic guarding the place is highly lawful. In fact, he thinks it is some sort of variant- and very powerful- spell based on _forbiddance._

_We need someone lawful in here!_ he sends out on the link. _Chakar, are you available?_

A few moments later, the dwarven monk enters the portal, then swiftly moves into the fortress. It is no trouble for him to do so; he simply walks in, whereas Baron Lillamere is unable to so much as approach. Chakar searches quickly, and then-

“Got it!” he announces. 

***

At the ruins of the Bastion, Mabrack points at one of the two remaining towers that still stand. “There are only five of the portals here! I will bet you that the others are in these two towers.”

The omega horror is flying in for another pass; the heroes scatter as the blasts of energy lance out from it, turning a section of stone and metal into molten slag. Mabrack fires a _disintegrate_ at it, and with a flash, its force field dissipates. Then a quick volley of attacks via spell, power and missile force the horror to withdraw several hundred yards, at least for the moment.

_No sign of that leshay, or of the remaining Arrows,_ thinks Thrush. Veil/Graz’zt has returned from her momentary spatio-temporal suspension, and everyone has drawn back into one or the other of the towers. There is indeed a single portal in each of them. Rapidly, all too aware that they must press their advantage while they have it, while Law is too confused to respond to their furious assault, our heroes proceed through the portals.

***

_*The Tomb of Levistus, Sygia, the Fifth Hell*_

The icy prison of the ancient archdevil Levistus is placid, moving only with the currents of the River Styx. Entombed in an iceberg of Stygian water, the archdevil has been held helpless for millenia. Even when Asmodeus, the Lord of Hell, returned unto him control of his layer from that upstart Geryon, Levistus was left frozen in impotent rage.

_Not for much longer,_ he thinks in his ancient, glacial way. _Soon we Ancient shall arise again._ 

The telepathic contact was gentle, teasing... familiar. Levistus knows of recent events, of course; he is all too aware that Lucifer has returned and thrown down Asmodeus. And he is well aware to whom he now owes any hope of freedom. When the Hidden Minister, Glaisig, contacted him, hope kindled for the first time in cruel eons. 

Levistus will be free again. Not long from now, his prison shall be rent asunder by his old ally, long since banished from power and chained in the depths of the oceans of Hell. Long forgotten things will rise again, and soon.

On some level, Levistus is worried by the risks involved. _The demons could make incredible inroads in the Hells. The Blood War could be compromised._ But on another level, he knows all too well that the Blood War is a contrivance of the yugoloths, and that even the loss of several layers of Hell will be, in the end, inconsequential.

It was his eternal loyalty to Lucifer that caused Asmodeus to depose Levistus so long ago, and to imprison him in the iceberg. But soon, soon, all the waiting will be rewarded at last. 

Soon Lucifer’s plans will become apparent to the _entire multiverse._

***

_*The ruins of the Bastion of Law*_

“SEVEN!” whoops Wankerman. More quietly- telepathically, in fact- he adds, _We have all the keys! Now we just need to find the pool!_

Thrush frowns. _Yeah, are we in good enough shape to keep going?_

Lillamere ‘speaks’ up. _Remember, time is not on our side. Any time we wait could be almost infinitely extended by Marius for them._

JJ points out, _They’ve already had plenty of time, then._

The party quickly decides that they will vanish back to Limbo for a few minutes, long enough for some quick healing and re-buffing. Some of the party spends a few minutes in JJ’s _portable den o’ immortal sin,_ given to him by Froth. But it’s only a few short moments, before they _plane shift_ back to Cydra. Using a _wish,_ Lillamere apes a _find the path_ spell, seeking the Pool of Law. Then they _superior teleport_ to the ruins of the Bastion, and follow the path that the spell paints for them. Though there are some dazed and wounded members of the army of order around, they are in no shape to oppose the champions of Chaos, and they give way fearfully before the party. 

As they begin moving back into the center of the ruin- following Lillamere’s spell- Gerontius zips up into the sky far enough to see the huge battlefield not far away. For the first time ever, it is not a stalemate. 

Chaos is pressing the forces of Law back.

The air halfling grins proudly. _That’s our handiwork!_ he thinks, and descends to rejoin the others in time to hear Graz’zt say, “A secret door!” And, it soon develops, one that requries seven keys to open...

And then they are in the pool chamber. Many pillars line the place; in the center- the exact center, naturally- is what can only be the Pool of Law.

Unfortunately, there are also Prayzose, Marius, the Judge of Worlds- and Inoke.

_*Next Time:*_ Could any more crazy powerful entities get involved before this is over?? Yes- but let’s just say that they’re running out of time! The Pool of Law, Glaisig’s “distraction” and the ultimate desperate measures!!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Holy s*it.

This is, finally, where it all gets done. So many characters in such an important fight, with so many already dead! The other question, of course, is what state are the Arrows of Law in? If they're rested then the party is in for some serious trouble (unless the reinforcements can come through!) but otherwise it's going to be a blood-fest of truly and genuinely epic proportions!


----------



## Technik4

Woo, I've been waiting for this showdown all year!


----------



## Seance

Its about to go from epic to  EPIC!!!!!


----------



## Alcar

*No*

I know a jester that needs to do his homework...BUMP


----------



## the Jester

*Glaisig's Distraction*

*8/8/371 O.L.G., Var: Twenty-Nine Days Ago*

Inoke is walking towards the castle, whistling to himself, after a visit to Sigil. He is full, having just eaten a nice meal served up at the party’s favorite local watering hole, which Lester had long ago introduced them to. 

Then he feels a metaphysical sensation like the brushing of lips across his ear. He recognizes it and composes his mind: someone is issuing him a _sending._

The words come, and he instantly recognizes the voice: Prayzose, God-Emperor of Forinthia, Arrow of Law and descendant of Dexter. One of the party’s adversaries, if not actual enemies.

_Inoke, it’s Prayzose. I would like to meet with you. If you agree, open your mind to me and I will bring you here._

Inoke hesitates for an instant. Prayzose could be trying to trick him, to get him to lower his guard. Yet- Prayzose is an honorable man, a sometimes ally, and is staunchly both Lawful and, perhaps more importantly, Good. 

He makes his decision. _Okay,_ Inoke replies, his words carried back to the God-Emperor by the spell, _give me ten minutes._ 

Quickly, Inoke initiates many defensive psionic powers. Then he writes a brief letter to Horbin the Holy, dispatching it via messenger to be delivered if he fails to return shortly. Then he breathes deeply, stills his mind and waits. 

The touch of Prayzose’s powerful mind on his is gentle, probing; and a moment later the warrior feels a sudden psychic snap of power, and he is _elsewhere_.

_This must be the Imperial Palace,_ thinks Inoke in wonder. 

The hall he is in has two rows of pillar, lined in gilt, running down its long axis. Off to either side are couches, writing tables, ottomans and other comfortable furnishings. The walls are painted with frescoes depicting the glory of Galador and Forinthia, the power and magnificent of past emperors and high priests, the presence and virtues of the saints and scenes of the fields of Heaven. Prayzose stands before him, his body sheathed in a gentle glow. A friendly smile is on his face. “I wasn’t sure that you would be willing to come,” he says. “Welcome.” The Emperor’s elite guards stand at various points around the room. 

“Thank you,” Inoke answers warily. No one is moving to threaten him, but he feels very out of place. He is all too aware that Prayzose has many allies that would love to see the warmind and his friends destroyed. He decides to get right to the point. “Did you want something in particular?”

“Yes, I want to make you an offer. Please,” the God-Emperor hurries, before Inoke can interject, “hear me out. I am not going to ask you to do anything against your morals.”

“I will not betray my friends,” Inoke growls.

“I will not ask you to. Please, hear me out.”

Inoke nods. “Very well.”

Prayzose begins walking towards a door. “Please, join me for dinner. We can talk privately while we eat.” Reluctantly, suspiciously, Inoke follows him.

Dinner is lovely, with many courses. Many of the items served, surprisingly enough, are of the sort that Inoke might have eaten at home on the Parrot Isles. He glances at Prayzose with respect. The man knows how to make an impression, certainly. And he has proven his moral integrity in the past. Still, the warmind is very suspicious.

True to his word, Prayzose dismisses his servants and keeps only a handful of his most trusted guards around him while they eat. There are a few minutes of small talk as the meal begins. Inoke has just begun to wonder when the man will get to the point, and then Emperor Prayzose looks Inoke in the eye and, with a smile, says, “Well, let’s get down to it, shall we?

“The reason I asked you here, Inoke, is to talk about the state of affairs between you and your friends and the forces of Law. You are Lawful yourself; surely you can recognize the benefits of an orderly, peaceful society. Your friends and you, by fighting Law, are preventing the formation of such a society. With organization, we can build roads; by working together, we can use those roads to send food from an area with a surplus to an area suffering from famine. We can work together to defend humanity from both monsters and evil men. We can protect society as a whole, whereas in an anarchy, with every man and woman working alone for his or her own benefit, there will be rape, murder and theft running rampant. You and I both have an interest in preventing that. We both care about people. We both want to protect the weak.”

Inoke replies, “You say that you would work together with me to protect people from monsters and evil men, but you work with evil men. And worse! Look at the creatures you have allied with as an Arrow of Law- Dekrasode, Marius, even Asmodeus!”

“Yes.” Prayzose nods. “There must be a balance on the councils of Law. They predated me as Arrows. When they approached me, Asmodeus made a very cunning appeal to me. I could become an Arrow, and attempt to balance the forces of Law towards Good- for, bear in mind, there were _three_ evil Arrows, and no good ones appointed as yet- or I could pass up the opportunity and allow them to perhaps appoint another evil one. And surely you understand, I cannot support Chaos.”

Reluctantly, Inoke nods. 

“I am making that same proposal to you,” Prayzose continues. “Inoke, you have slain Asmodeus. You have worked against the Arrows in the past, but I believe that you are a reasonable man, and you can see how positive of an influence you could be. I want _you_ to become the seventh Arrow of Law.”

Inoke’s jaw drops.

After a moment, he says, “I told you, I will not betray my friends.”

“I am not asking you to. Bring them over to us if you can, but I do not think you can. But I will not ask you to fight them.” His blue eyes bore into Inoke’s, and the warmind realizes just how charismatic Prayzose is.* “I give you my word on that, and violating that would not be very Lawful of me, would it?”

“True... but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“If we use the tactics of Chaos against itself, we will win no battle for Law,” Prayzose predicts.

Inoke nods. “Very well, I believe you. But why should I accept your offer? I admit it has a certain appeal...”

“Do not accept it for what it gives you; accept it for what you can do with it. Together, we can win the Great War of Ethics. We can _end_ this destructive conflict. We can institute a great peace, and ensure that everyone is equal. We can eliminate poverty and starvation. I hope for a reign of Law and Good, and that means peace, hope and plenty.”

“Who are the Arrows?” asks Inoke. 

“Myself, Marius, Dekrasode, Cluma, Lord Alyth and the Judge of Worlds. And, of course, Asmodeus was one of us, until you slew him.” He smiles. “For which, frankly, I thank you.”

Inoke smirks. “You’re welcome. I struck the blow.” 

Prayzose nods. “I know. As I said, thank you.”

“Why me?”

“Because you are mighty enough to take his place. Because you are a strong force of Law, despite your opposition to it. And because I believe that you can be trusted to do the right thing.”

_His words are very persuasive,_ Inoke thinks. But he is conflicted. _There is no way that the others would understand, if I said yes... but we could do so much good! Aargh!_

“What are the consequences,” Inoke wonders, “of there being only six Arrows?”

“None, really,” Prayzose shrugs. “Only since my appointment has the roster of the Arrows been full. Before that, it had been thousands of years.” 

“I need a little time to think about this,” Inoke says. 

“Of course,” Prayzose replies. “But you must answer before I send you home.”

“If I refuse, will you attack me?” inquires Inoke frankly.

“Of course not!” Prayzose exclaims. “I promise you, I brought you here only to talk. I did not poison your food, I am not tampering with your mind, and I am not using any magic. I want to persuade you, Inoke, because _I am on the right side, and you should be too._ I hope to show you that I’m right, and to persuade you to join me, but I have no intention of forcing you in any way. And if you do not agree with me, that together we can do much for our people, for all of the people, and if you decline, whoever takes your place will be probably less good and less capable than you- then decline my offer. But I hope you can see how much sense it makes, how much good we can do together. You must do what you feel is right.”

The warmind nods. He _schisms_, splitting his mind in two, and begins talking it over with himself: _It’s the right thing to do.

But my friends will hate me!

The Mace of St. John would say that there is no choice.

This could be a trick.

It’s Prayzose- he’s not going to try to trick us when he invites us over for dinner and diplomacy. He might feed us some misinformation, but I doubt whether he’d out-and-out lie, either.

If I do this, my friends will never forgive me.

Maybe not. But is friendship more important than what is right?

Maybe they’ll understand in time. If I ever have a chance to explain it to them...

Well, Prayzose promised that he wouldn’t try to get us to fight them.

I don’t want to fight them, but they might attack me. We might not have a choice. 

Prayzose is right: I must do what I feel is right._

“You have posed a difficult choice for me,” Inoke sighs. “It is a difficult decision. But I accept.”

Prayzose smiles broadly. “Excellent!” he cries. “Then we will invest you as soon as possible!”

“When is that?” 

“Seven times seven days,” Prayzose answers. “Next month, on the 27th.”

***

_*Now- the ruins of the Bastion of Law*_

Lillamere casts _Marius’ double actions_ and _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_ in quick succession. To his shock, the Arrows of Law are unaffected by the _disjunction!_

“What the hell?” he exclaims.

Marius grins. “It worked!” he crows, and then suddenly there are three great whirling glittering masses of temporal sand blasting out towards our heroes.

“Chronal repeaters!” cries Alcar. 

Graz’zt/Veil gestures at our Marius, trying to _trap the soul_ on him, but the chronomancer is prepared with _spell turning._ Graz’zt suddenly finds himself trying to trap _his own_ soul- or is it Veil’s? For a moment, the split-minded being struggles with confusion. The six-fingered hand spiked to the boss of his/her shield writhes angrily. But then Veil throws it off, momentarily remembering who she is, and Graz’zt’s spell resistance throws off the magical attack. 

The chronal repeater sweep in. One slashes at JJ with its forceful wind and cutting blasts of sand from the plane of Time. The son of Jibber screeches and cowers, letting his _stoneskin_ do the bulk of his defensive work for him. Another of the repeaters crashes into Baron Lillamere with such force that the sorcerer is knocked back and stunned! The Judge of Worlds begins attacking the hapless argent savant, slamming him with spear-arms and opening up with slugthrowers. Blow after blow lands, and blood flies as Lillamere gets hammered again and again!

Gerontius cries out as another attack swarm engulfs him- tiny clockwork horrors, mere specks to the eye, yet packing considerable electrical power! His hair stands on end as they shock and bite him, and bloody pinpricks sprout all over his body. “Yowch!” he cries. 

Blazier launches a _fireball_ and takes out one of the guards that has accompanied Prayzose. But the Arrows have the advantage, clearly, and begin to press it.

_Let’s get out of here, guys!_ Sybele screams over the telepathic link. Aloud, to the Arrows of Law, she cries, “Those big bad apocalypse guys are free! Worry about them, not us!” Then she _bends reality_ to ape a _plane shift_, and our heroes vanish, reappearing in the midst of a rainbow on Limbo.

“You really like Limbo, don’t you?” JJ asks. He grins; he really likes Limbo, too. 
After all, his For that matter, so does Wankerman, who has spend plenty of time here in his days with the Xaositechts. Sybele just grins.

_What now?_ asks Thrush over the link. 

_Darkhold!_ suggest Gerontius. 

_Look!_ Wankerman points. In the distance, slender metal needles riding columns of fire are approaching. _More of Master Control’s missiles!_

“Let’s go!” cries Baron Lillamere, who has recovered from being stunned. The party clusters around, and they _superior teleport_ to just outside where they previously found the entrance to Darkhold.

It’s not there.

Our heroes take a few quick moments to try to look for it, but Thrush shouts a warning: “More missiles!”

_How the hell are they finding us?_ wonders Lester. _Aren’t we all _mind blanked?

_They must have something on us,_ Lillamere realizes as the party _plane shifts_ back to Cydra. _I bet they have some kind of ultra tiny device that they have planted on us or something- maybe something those swarms of tiny horrors carried or something!_**

The party glances around. They are on a rocky coast, with waves crashing in only about ten feet below them on the beach. _Where to now?_ asks Gerontius telepathically.

_Back to the Bastion!_ JJ cries enthusiastically. _Hopefully, the Arrows have had enough time to start pursuing us, and they haven’t left anything there to oppose us!_

Chakar snorts. _I call that wishful thinking,_ he sends wryly over the link.

_More missiles!_ shouts Alcar telepathically. This time, while the party spends a moment or two adding more buffs to their current ones, Lester flies up and lets the missiles hit him to buy the party a few moments. The elementalist grits his teeth and cries out as shrapnel and flames engulf him, but he is perhaps the toughest mortal alive,*** and he comes back brushing off bits of metal and patting out small fires from his body. 

Then another _superior teleport_ brings the party back to the Pool of Law.

Wishful thinking indeed. 

The Arrows are there; their guardians and servants are there. Inoke is there. Prayzose, the Judge, Marius- they have all waited.

And, unfortunately for them, our heroes have the total drop on them.****

Lester hurls a piece of an obelisk of Na’Rat into the Pool of Law with perfect accuracy. Strange, multihued smoke starts to rise. The Pool begins to churn and bubble and swirl.

Orbius speaks a word, and a _contingency_ goes off, triggering an instantaneous _contact other plane._ He asks only two questions:

_With whom am I speaking?_ He sees an image of a black sword and a black shield.
_Will the piece of the obelisk destroy the Pool of Law?_ *Yes?* There is a faintly uncertain tone to the answer. 

_We’d best be sure,_ the Eye tells JJ telepathically. JJ cackles with glee as he springs towards the pool, the strap-on phallus of Chaos that Froth crafted him tied firmly round his waist. His mind flexes and an _energy wave_ sweeps over the enemy, damaging all of them. 

And then, seeing that this is _it,_ this is the final conflict, that there will be no more running and dodging and _plane shifting_ away, Alcar shouts, “GLAISIG, GLAISIG, GLAISIG!!!”

There is a huge explosion of flame and brimstone. A great blast of furnace-like heat puffs up from everywhere, and suddenly a gargantuan form seems to grow up from the ground. There is an earth-splitting roar voiced from multiple throats. A thick smell, reptilian yet not a reptile, fills the air. 

“Oh my gods,” breathes Blazier, “Glaisig’s distraction is _Tiamat!!_”

_*Next Time:*_ The next post FINISHES THE BATTLE AT LAST!!!


*To answer that question, I will say “45.” 

**This, by the way, was a damn fine guess. 

***Unwounded Lester has over 500 hp, and he has fast healing as well.

****In one of the worst bits of dice luck I have ever had, both Marius and Prayzose fumbled their initiative rolls.


----------



## Krud

This is just crazy Jester. I can't wait to see what happens next.

Hope Tiamat provides a small distraction to aid them. They must be running low on resources by now....


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

I'm now having visions of the whole battle looking like the Dungeons and Dragons cartoon series...

More awesome stuff, Jester! Did any of the players know who the 'distraction' was before it happened, or was it a total surprise to everyone? And are you able to put the Tiamat stats up in your Thread-That-Must-Not-Be-Named?


----------



## the Jester

Tallarn said:
			
		

> More awesome stuff, Jester! Did any of the players know who the 'distraction' was before it happened, or was it a total surprise to everyone? And are you able to put the Tiamat stats up in your Thread-That-Must-Not-Be-Named?




No, that was a surprise for everyone... although there were a few clues along the way, nobody picked up on them in the heat of the ongoing battle/chase/apocalyptic finale. 

And I used her stats straight outta MotP. 

Edit: And the crazy thing is, _the big guns have yet to arrive._


----------



## Alcar

*Yes*

As a player, it felt great to have summoned Tiamat, and as an angel 'twas oh so ironic.


BUMP


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

the Jester said:
			
		

> No, that was a surprise for everyone... although there were a few clues along the way, nobody picked up on them in the heat of the ongoing battle/chase/apocalyptic finale.
> 
> And I used her stats straight outta MotP.
> 
> Edit: And the crazy thing is, _the big guns have yet to arrive._




Gah?


----------



## the Jester

Tallarn said:
			
		

> Thread-That-Must-Not-Be-Named?




Don't know if you have looked lately, but there are some cool recent posts to that from this thread... e.g. the mounts.


----------



## the Jester

Tiamat, Queen of Evil Dragons, Glaisig’s “distraction” sent to aid our heroes, launches a full attack at the Judge of Worlds. The multi-headed dragon tears into the hapless Arrow of Law with unbelievable force, and metal goes flying and pieces of the Judge are rent apart. Then a quickened, maximized _flame strike_ blasts the Judge as well.

Lester whoops. Orbius casts a _time stop,_ using a _metamagic rod_ to maximize it, and those of our heroes who still have the spell stowaway statuettes that the faux Marius gave them join the Eye. Quickly, they throw chaotic items, anarchic water and whatever else they can think of into the Pool of Law. JJ begins defiling it with the phallus of Na’Rat material that Froth crafted for him. Though it is distasteful, our heroes realize that it may just be necessary.

Orbius casts a _wall of stone_ around two of the chronal repeaters, and our heroes all move into optimum attack position and make ready to strike as soon as time restarts. None of them move near Inoke. 

With a blur, time resumes, and our heroes strike with amazing force. Gerontius finally lands a blow on Prayzose, and Thrush hits twice; but both of them are disgruntled at the difficulty in landing a blow. The God-Emperor of Forinthia is still off his guard, fortunately.

_Nobody hop on this one!_ Orbius calls over the secure telepathic link, and he _time stops_ again. This time he puts up several _forcecages_ to try to hedge in the other repeaters, followed by a strategically-positioned _prismatic wall_. Finally, he casts a _wish_ to attempt to place whatever sort of _disjunction buffer_ the Arrows used to ward the walls, but it fails. Clearly, the buffer spell must be of the ninth valence- or even transvalent.*

Alcar leaps forward at the Judge of Worlds and, flanking with Tiamat, begins smashing at the Arrow. It unsettles him to work with the Chromatic Dragon, and it certainly is nothing like what he expected, but he is more than willing to take advantage of her presence. _But at battle’s end, you’re next,_ the angel tells himself. _Smash! Smash! Smash!_ Over and over again, Alcar slams his mace into the Judge, until finally the Arrow is felled! Then the Angel of Kickass whirls and flies at Prayzose.

Lester, meanwhile, turns to Inoke. “You just stay there!” he cries, and erects a _wall of stone_ to cut his former friend off. He catches a glimpse of JJ fornicating with the Pool of Law. The Pool does not seem to appreciate the attentions of the demislaad; it is hissing and smoking, bubbling and churning. Weird colors and strange protrusions are starting to form in the water. JJ whoops. 

“I don’t want to fight you!” Inoke cries, and bludgeons the _wall of stone_ to pieces in a few quick blow. “I’m not going to fight you guys, but I see Tiamat, and _I’m taking her down!_”

Chakar springs in and attempts to grapple Prayzose, but the God-Emperor shrugs him off. But finally, both Prayzose and Marius are beginning to react to our heroes’ furious assault. In the blink of an eye, Marius casts a spell that Orbius, to his shock, realizes is some kind of epic variant of _time stop_- one from which Marius can blast his enemies! With a fierce grin, the chronomancer casts _invisibility purge_ to eliminate some of the party’s advantages; then he hits Thrush with a _polar ray_, followed by a _puncture_. Two empowered _horrid wiltings_ devastate the entire group. As he emerges from the _Marius’ improved time stop_, he fires off a quickened _prismatic spray, disintegrate_ and _lightning bolt_ trifecta, blasting at Thrush and JJ.

Fortune is on JJ’s side. His spell resistance, though pitifully weak compared to the power of Marius, holds against _everything._ 

The entire party is wracked by the _horrid wiltings,_ and Orbius grimaces and replies with a quickened _puncture_ of his own. Marius _sidesteps_ out of harms way- only to be caught in null time due to the _greater anticipate teleports_ running on several of the combatants!

Meanwhile, the chronal repeaters, attack swarms and missile fire all continue to complicate matters for our heroes. Blaze tries to destroy the swarm with a _cone of cold,_ but he only succeeds in damaging it. Despite his amazing powers, he feels profoundly out of his depth here. _Wankerman, what have you gotten me into?_ he wonders. Then he laughs out loud. Who cares? It’s fun! Besides, even if he dies- even if the entire party’s efforts go down in failure- his name will live on forever after this, either in fame or in infamy.

Chakar keeps swatting at Prayzose, searching for a hold, but it’s clear to him that the God-Emperor has _freedom of movement_ in play. So the dwarven monk changes tactics, and manages to snatch one of Prayzose’s rings off. He still can’t get a grip, though. “We don’t want to destroy you,” he cries. “Don’t fight us!” 

“I said the same thing to you,” Prayzose replies, surprisingly gently. “It’s too late for that. And you have summoned both Graz’zt and Tiamat to Cydra in order to oppose us! What destructive forces you have unleashed.” He shakes his head sadly. “No. The time for talk is over.”

The swarm continues to distract and attack the party. Lester snarls angrily and casts a shaped _fireball_, damaging it further- but still not destroying it! Sybele, meanwhile, blasts Prayzose with a massive _crystal shard._ When it proves effective, she does it again! Alcar, meanwhile, throws himself against the God-Emperor as well and manages to land a few blows. “Surrender!” the angel cries. “Don’t make us kill you!”

“No,” Prayzose answers. In an instant, a _burning ray_ flashes out, blazing through both Alcar and Tiamat. “You have crossed a line that I cannot allow you to cross unanswered. You have gone too far. I will not allow this trespass to stand.” He begins weaving immensely powerful magic, and a _gate_ to Heaven opens.

“Oh crap,” Blaze mutters. He casts _shield_ and _displacement._

Light brighter than anything our heroes have ever seen before explodes through the _gate._

“MY LORD!!” cries Prayzose. “YOU ARE NEEDED ON CYDRA!!! THE FORCES OF CHAOS SUMMON GODS OF EVIL TO OPPOSE YOUR DESCENDANT!!!”

A being of blazing light, so bright that the sun itself seems to be a dark smudge in the sky, steps forth from the _gate_.

Galador has arrived. 

JJ’s eyes boil from their sockets at the sight. The others manage to squeeze their eyes shut in time. Even blinded, though, the demislaad manages to catch the attack swarm with an _energy wave_ that finally destroys it. 

The incandescent form of Galador gestures negligently at Graz’zt, and a blast of solar power explodes out and nearly blasts the demon lord from existence.** Then, another wave of his hand almost completely heals Prayzose. 

“Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap!” Graz’zt strikes, attacking with his wavy-bladed sword. His blows fall on armor composed of sunlight so bright that it turns his acrid blade back. 

YOU ARE A BLASPHEMY. The words ring with the power to shape reality. They echo, loud and clear, for miles. They encompass both Graz’zt and Tiamat. YOU SHALL PAY FOR THIS TRANSGRESSION. HOW DARE YOU TRESPASS HERE, NOW? 

Inoke, meanwhile, has moved to engage Tiamat. The Queen of Evil Dragons snaps at him from her many mouths; she breathes fire, acid, cold, lightning, toxic gas at him. He growls and _expands_ to a height of 25’, swinging his mace against her with deadly effect. Her tail stinger whips forward, but he parries it. He strikes her white head with his mace with telling force, and she shakes that head. It is momentarily stunned- but not so the rest of her! Her black head spits another stream of acid at him, while the red head bites down into his right arm! Inoke grimaces and slams his fist into her eye, freeing his hand, and batters at her again, bloodying the red head’s nose. The two of them glare at each other. 

Meanwhile, the party rushes Prayzose, striking with all their might. Gerontius, flanking, finds it easier to hit the God-Emperor since Chakar’s clever stripping of his ring. He lands several blows. Thrush roars, “I’m sorry, Emperor- it’s time to make way for your replacement!!” He lands blow after blow, staggering Prayzose, and Alcar rushes in on the other side. Blow after blow lands, and finally, Prayzose staggers- and falls! Our heroes cheer! Alcar attempts a _soul bind_ on Prayzose, to no avail. 

“This is a short term solution, but it might help!” Baron Lillamere cries. He _disintegrates_ Prayzose’s remains. 

“That’s not really going to slow Galador down, I don’t think!” cries Chakar. For once, he does not sound entirely calm and composed. His blows and attempts to grapple Galador simply slide off his like water off of a duck. 

“Maybe this will!” Lillamere invokes a _crushing fist of spite._ It hammers down, smashing Galador- and, somehow, penetrating his spell resistance. Mabrack unleashes yet another _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_, this one at the god that the party is facing. 

“I don’t know if that will help, but it can’t hurt!” the storm giant wizard cries hopefully. 

The party pours it on, but they do not even seem to be hurting Galador at all. _Uh oh,_ thinks Lester, _we may have finally bitten off more than we can chew!_ His eyes widen as he sees Tiamat _plane shift_ away from Inoke. The big warrior turns to face our heroes. A profound look of regret is on his face. 

“I don’t want to fight you!” he cries.

“You should have thought about that before!” shouts Thrush. 

Galador draws forth a mace. Graz’zt bares his fangs and strikes up a guard position, but Galador’s divine blast has already taken much of the wind out of his sails. A single blow snaps the demon prince’s neck, and the black-skinned form collapses. Quickly, it boils away into a greasy smear, which in turn catches fire and burns to nothing in the blazing light of Galador. 

“Uh oh,” JJ says, quickly scooping up as much of Prayzose’s gear as he can. “Uh, I don’t know if-“

Galador strikes again. Lillamere is crushed in a single mighty blow, collapsing in a bloody pile on the ground. Then he cleaves onto Gerontius, nearly taking the rogue out too! “Please stop!” cries the rogue, bluffing and striking, bluffing and striking. He manages to land several blows. _I can’t believe I just stabbed Galador,_ he thinks in wonder.

“All right, it’s time!” Alcar cries. He spreads his arms wide and casts a _gate_ of his own. “BLESS, MY GOD! WHATEVER YOU CAN DO, NOW IS THE TIME!!”

From the _gate,_ another figure emerges, silhouetted in the refulgent brilliance. He strides tall and grim. In his right hand he bears a sword so black that even the illumination of Galador cannot light it up. Strapped to his left arm is a shield of equal blackness.

“Galador, I am Vandreu,” the newcomer calls. “Your time is at an end. I am here to finish you.” He does not shout; his voice does not thunder, as Galador’s does. Yet it is as grave, and it carries as well, and as clearly. It is clear that he can see without difficulty, even in the light of Galador’s own radiance. 

The two gods move together. There is an explosion of divine power, of light and energy, unequaled by anything that our heroes have ever seen. 

Inoke rushes forward. 

“Inoke, no!” cries Gerontius.

Ignoring his old friend, the warmind smashes his mace at Vandreu. But the mighty deity raises his black shield, catching the blow, and Inoke’s mace explodes with brutal force. The bones in his arms shiver and nearly shatter. He screams in pain and falls back on the ground.

“This is not your fight,” Vandreu tells him. “Not anymore.” With that, he swings his blade at Galador. The God of Forinthia, the Lord, the Light, steps away and fires a blast of staggering divine power at Vandreu. He takes the blazing beam square in the chest and thrusts forward again. Galador’s armor of light shivers as the black blade hits it, and the light seems, impossibly, to increase for a second as it shatters under the power of the blade.

Vandreu’s voice echoes through all of our heroes’ heads. _You should leave. This situation is about to become... explosive._

_What about Marius?_ Orbius cries over the party’s telepathic link. _We have to stay for just another few seconds and get him, or he’ll bring Prayzose back, and then we’re right back where we started!_ 

Galador swings his mace, but jerks it back rather than letting it strike the black shield. His armor springs instantly back into existence, and he vanishes, reappearing some distance away, resplendent in his glory, and blasts out at Vandreu with another divine blast. The rubble of the Bastion of Law is seared by solar heat. Several of our heroes cry out as they are caught in the edge of the blast.

Inoke, meanwhile, struggles back to his feet and psionically heals himself as best he can. Then, realizing that he has no weapon to fight with, and glancing around at the situation, he gives a small sigh of despair and activates his _boots of teleportation,_ vanishing into the null time displacement of the _greater anticipate teleports_ running throughout the area.

YOU ARE A FOOL, VANDREU. YOU CANNOT STAND AGAINST THE SUN. YOU CANNOT OPPOSE THE MIGHTIEST OF ALL.

“I can,” Vandreu says, instantly appearing next to Galador and landing a mighty blow on him with the black sword. 

Marius reappears! Thanks to the _greater anticipate teleport,_ our heroes know exactly where he will appear and when. Then are clustered around. Before the chronomancer has a chance to react, Chakar grabs him by the throat. Mabrack and Sybele both begin pounding the chronomancer. Having already used his instantaneous escape from his _sidestep,_ Marius has no way to escape. Before he can even act, our heroes have cut him to ribbons and slain him.

Lester thinks, _The last of the Arrows is down, and the Pool of Law is thoroughly defiled. Let’s get the hell out of here!_

_I have Marius’ body,_ Chakar affirms.

Blazing energy and explosive blows rain all over the battlefield as the gods clash. They are humungous, 50’ high each. Galador keeps teleporting away to fire divine blasts, and Vandreu keeps teleporting next to him to strike in melee. The energies being unleashed are unbelievable, searing our heroes even as they stay out of the direct conflict. 

_Let’s go!_ Orbius, JJ and Mabrack all cast _plane shift,_ and our heroes make their escape.

Triumphant.

To all appearances, it would seem that Chaos has won.


*_Disjunction buffer_ is a 9th level spell.

**Can I offer you 400 points of damage with that?


----------



## the Jester

And with that, this story hour is finished. 

As always, however, the game goes on, and the new thread will start up soon. When it does I will post a link in this thread to it. 

I hope everyone has enjoyed reading it as much as we enjoyed playing it, and as much as I enjoyed writing it up!  Thanks for reading, and I hope to see y'all in the new thread when it goes up in the next week or so.


----------



## Krud

<starts packing his gear for the next story hour>


----------



## Krafus

Superb epic battle! Will you be posting the stats for Prayzose and Marius? I'm really curious to see what they look like.


----------



## the Jester

Krafus said:
			
		

> Superb epic battle! Will you be posting the stats for Prayzose and Marius? I'm really curious to see what they look like.




Oh, jeez, I almost forgot!  Here is Marius:

*Marius the Chronomancer*

_Note:_ For the first portion of the battle, Marius is actually in his citadel in the Plane of Time, and is astrally projecting to the Bastion of Law.  However, for various reasons, by the end of it all he was present personally, and this led to his ultimate demise.

Marius begins play with the following spells in place:

CL 10- _haste_
CL 26 (from Prayzose)- _mass death ward, astral projection, disjunction buffer_
CL 28- _project image, greater anticipate teleport, repulsion, mirror image, Marius’ stasis shield, mind blank, Marius’ sidestep, spell turning, Marius’ spell boost, extended Marius’ double actions, true seeing, stoneskin, extended fly, extended shield
_
Male Human Wizard 20/Chronomancer 10 
LE medium humanoid (human)
*Init *+12; *Senses* _true seeing_, Listen +16, Spot +16
*Aura* strong Lawful; project image, greater anticipate teleport, repulsion (distance set to 30’)
*Languages* Forinthian, Peshan, Draconic, Elven, Infernal, Temporal, Orcish, Halfling, Ignan, Celestial 

*AC *36 (+5 dex, +5 deflection, +8 armor, +3 insight, +4 shield, +1 haste), touch 24, flat-footed 30; repulsion (set to 30’), 8 mirror images, _Marius’ stasis shield_ 
*Hit Dice* 30d4+210 (303 hp);* DR* 10/adamantine (150 points) 
*Immune* death, divinations, magic missiles, mind-affecting effects, Mordenkainen’s disjunction
*Fort* +22, *Ref* +22, *Will *+22; improved evasion, Marius’ sidestep, mind blank, spell turning (9 levels)

*Speed* 30 ft. (6 squares), fly 60’ (12 squares) plus Marius’ sidestep
*Melee* dagger +19/14 (1d4+3/19-20 plus 1d6 cold) (evil outsider bane); or 
--spell +16 touch
*Ranged* spell +21 ranged touch
*Base Atk* +15; *Grp *+15
*Space* 5 ft.;* Reach* 5 ft. 
*Combat Gear* _staff of frost_ (35 charges), _slippers of sidestep, cloak of greater displacement, the Rod of the Dark Emperor, ring of metastorage, wands of haste, slow, fireball_ (10th level caster), _lightning bolt_ (10th level caster), _stoneskin, identify,_ and _dispel magic_ (10th level caster), _potions of cure serious wounds_ (x8), _neutralize poison_ (x3), _remove disease, lesser restoration, elixir of heal_ (x3), scrolls of (_Mordenkainen’s disjunction_) (5), (_disrupt protections, greater dispel magic, mind blank_), (_fly, greater teleport, sending, Rary’s telepathic bond, permanency_), (_puncture, empowered disintegrate, sphere of ultimate destruction, maze, summon monster VIII_), (_greater teleport_ [2], _repulsion, meteor swarm, energy drain, disintegrate_), (_incendiary cloud, ghostform, maze_, heightened to 9th level _slow_) (all scrolls are CL 25).
*Special Actions* compress time, skip day, time slide 1/day
*Class Spells Prepared (CL 28) (able to cast 3 quickened spells/round) (save DC 34 + spell level, 36 + spell level for transmutation):*

Epic- Marius’ hyperaccelerated spellcasting, Marius’ improved time stop, Marius’ spell boost*;

10th level- Quickened disintegrate (2), quickened transmute rock to magma;

9th level- Empowered delayed blast fireball, quickened lower resistance, Marius’ stasis shield*, Mordenkainen’s disjunction, quickened seeker missiles, time stop;

8th level- Extended Marius’ double actions*, Marius’ sidestep*, mind blank*, puncture, superior teleport, quickened wall of fire;

7th level- Greater teleport, Marius’ deconstruction, Marius’ double actions (2), prismatic spray, spell turning (9 levels)*;

6th level- disintegrate, greater anticipate teleport*, quickened Melf’s acid arrow, project image*, repulsion*, quickened scorching ray, true seeing*;

5th level- quickened magic missile (3), sending, quickened shield, wall of force (2);

4th level- Enervation, extended fly*, Orbius’ eldritch penetrations, polymorph, empowered scorching ray, stoneskin*, summon monster IV;

3rd level- Displacement, fireball, fly, lightning bolt, empowered magic missile, Marius’ moment, empowered ray of enfeeblement;

2nd level- Far strike, lively step, Melf’s acid arrow (2), mirror image*, scorching ray, shatter, extended shield*;

1st level- Bite spirit, magic missile (2), mount, ray of enfeeblement, shield (2), unseen servant;

0th level- detect magic (2), prestidigitation, ray of frost. 

*Already cast (figured into stat block).

*Domain:* Time.  *Granted Power:* know age 1/day.
*Spell-like Abilities (CL 10):* 2/day- haste*. 

*Str* 10, *Dex *21, *Con* 19 (includes +5 inherent bonus), *Int* 39 (includes +5 inherent bonus), *Wis* 11, *Cha* 14
*SQ* chain contingency, contingency, eternal youth, Marius’ double actions, preternatural insight +3
*Feats *Craft Wand, Empower Spell, Extend Spell, Great Fortitude, Greater Spell Focus (Transmutation), Greater Spell Penetration, Improved Initiative, Quicken Spell, Scribe Scroll, Spell Focus (Transmutation), Spell Penetration
*Epic Feats* Epic Spellcasting, Improved Spell Capacity, Multispell (x2)
*Skills* Concentration +37, Decipher Script +44, Knowledge (arcana, planes, time) +47, Knowledge (geography, politics, religion) +29, Listen +16, Speak Language (see above), Spellcraft +47, Spot +16, Use Magic Device +35 
*Possessions* Combat gear plus bracers of armor +8, headband of intellect +10, gloves of dexterity +6, amulet of understanding, ring against harm, Frostfang (+3 frost evil outsider bane dagger), 4 masterwork silvered daggers

_This fellow is a handsome man of obvious Peshan extraction, with reddish-blond hair and a full beard and moustache.  He stands 6’1” tall and weighs 165 lbs.  He wears green with silver trim, along with a voluminous black cloak.  He is dressed in accordance with the latest fashions._

_*Chain Contingency:*_ If Marius cries, “Ambush!”, repulsion (set to 60’), Marius’ sidestep and Marius’ double actions all activate.

_*Contingency:*_ If Marius falls below 100 hit point, a heal spell (imbued by Prayzose) immediately triggers on him

*Preternatural Insight (Su):* Marius can peer a short distance into the past and future.  This gives him a +3 insight bonus to AC, Reflex saves and attack rolls.

*Compress Time (Su):* While on the plane of time or a demiplane with a morphic rate of time passage, the chronomancer may manipulate the flow of time so that either more or less time passes for him relative to the amount of time that passes on the Material plane.  A chronomancer may compress time so that 1 hour per chronomancer level passes for him for each hour that passes on the Material plane.  Alternatively, he may compress time in another direction so that 1 hour per chronomancer level passes on the Material plane for each hour that passes for him.  There are some locations on the plane of time that dramatically increase the amount of chronal compression that will take place by their very nature, but a chronomancer can sense this when beginning to compress time.
*
Time Slide (Su):* This ability, which is used as a move-equivalent action, allows the character to slip anywhere from one to eight round into the future, at his option.  The chronomancer seemingly vanishes, then reappears moments later.  From the chronomancer’s point of view, everything stops for as many rounds as he shifts ahead, giving him the ability to act for that length of time (similar to a time stop spell).  During this time he cannot affect the world around him in any way.

*Skip Day (Su):* The chronomancer has the supernatural ability to skip a day in time.  He can do this once per subjective day.  The chronomancer can take up to one willing creature per level with him.

*Timeless Body (Su):* The chronomancer no longer feels the ravages of time and suffers no penalties due to age.  The chronomancer will still die when his time is up.



*Amulet of Understanding:* 3/day this amulet can give the wearer a +15 competence bonus on a Decipher Script, Knowledge or Spellcraft check.  Using this amulet is a free action, but its use must be declared before the roll is made.

*Ring of Metastorage:* A ring of metastorage is fashioned to aid in the use of metamagic, similar to a metamagic rod.  However, it is also akin to a ring of spell storing, in that it must be ‘set’ for certain specific spells.  A ring of metastorage can hold the capacity to quicken three spells when charged.  To charge the ring, the wearer must cast the three spells, which may be of any level, into the ring.  Thereafter, the ring holds the spells; releasing one of them is a swift action.  The ring may only be charged once per day, and unused spells fade at the end of that time.

*Ring Against Harm:* A ring against harm gives the wearer a +5 deflection bonus to AC, as well as a +5 resistance bonus to saving throws.  It also allows the wearer to trigger a heal spell targeted on himself 1/day (CL 15).  

*Rod of the Dark Emperor:* This rod is a minor artifact taken from the Dark Emperor by Marius.  It looks suitably menacing, being adorned with a ring of red crystals that emanate dimness and thrum audibly when the rod is employed.  _(Details Redacted)_

*Slippers of Sidestep:* These comfortable slippers allow the user to activate Marius’ sidestep for up to 10 rounds/day.  It is an immediate action to activate the boots, and they then remain active until you deactivate them with a swift action or their daily duration runs out.  Using the slippers to escape imminent harm uses up all remaining duration for the day immediately.


----------



## the Jester

*PRAYZOSE--- CR 45*

_This man stands tall and radiant before you.  He is ruggedly handsome, with a beneficent expression on his face.  Around his neck hangs an awesome holy symbol of Dexter, the most ornate one you have ever seen.  It glows from within, its radiance filling you with peace and a feeling of well-being. His face seems to hover above the light, his blond hair and beard catching the light and blazing like gold.  His sharp eyes seem to drink in everything around him.  He is clad in most splendid clerical robes._

*Note: *Prayzose is astrally projecting at the beginning of the fight. By the end, he is present in person.

Prayzose entered play with the following spells and effects in place:

(CL 26)- knowledge of the hierophants, wisdom of the hierophants, invested greater resistance, invested magic vestment (on shield and armor), mass death ward, empowered deadly weapon (on mace), astral projection, disjunction buffer, greater spell immunity (implosion, disintegrate, trap the soul, prismatic spray, prismatic wall, fire storm), status (cast on the Arrows of Law), radiance of Galador, true seeing

(CL 10)- haste (from Marius)

(ML 18)- schism, psionic mind blank, energy retort (electricity), offensive precognition (augmented to +6), offensive prescience (augmented to +7)
(CL 14)- mass surefooted stride

Emperor of Forinthia and High Priest of the Light
Human cleric of Galador 16/psion 8/psychic theurge 10/divine ascendant 11
LG large outsider (augmented humanoid, native)
*Init* +0; *Senses *true seeing; Listen +29, Spot +29
*Aura* sunlight 120’
*Languages* improved polyglot

*AC* 69 (+19 armor, +13 shield, +16 natural, +11 deflection, +1 haste, -1 size), touch 21, flat-footed 69; radiance of Galador, energy retort (electricity)
*Hit Dice *27d8 + 18d4 +315 +22 (592 hp); *DR* 10/- and 15/chaotic and evil and 21/evil
*Resist* acid 10, cold 10, electricity 10, fire 5; *SR* 44
*Immune* disease*, disintegrate, energy drain, implosion, mind-affecting effects, Mordenkainen’s disjunction, fire storm, poison*, prismatic spray, prismatic wall, stunning*, trap the soul; freedom of movement
*Unless inflicted by a being of higher divine rank or ascendant level.
*Fort* +32, *Ref* +29, *Will *+44; evasion, freedom of movement, mettle, unfailing grace

*Speed* 40 ft., fly 40 ft. 
*Melee* mace +68/68/63/58 (2d6+44/19-20 plus 2d6 vs. chaotic and 2d6 vs. evil) 
*Base Atk *+34; *Grp* +51
*Space *10 ft.; *Reach* 10 ft. 
*Combat Gear* greater maximize rod, greater quickening rod, greater empower rod, greater transdimensional rod, wand of cure serious wounds (CL 15), rod of cancellation, scroll (mass heal x5, CL 20), scroll (destruction, earthquake, summon monster IX, heightened to 9th level hold person; CL 17), scroll (empowered flame strike, heal, greater restoration, greater remove curse, recitation; CL 15), staff of healing (32 charges), elixirs of heal, greater restoration, true resurrection.
*Special Actions* automatic actions, transport 3/day, turn undead x/day
Class Spells Prepared (CL 30) (save DC 49 + spell level, +1 compulsions; domains Law and Light): 

Epic spells- authority of Prayzose, burning beam, Marius’ spell boost*;

12th level- quickened empowered blade barrier, quickened brilliant aura, quickened fire storm, invested greater resistance (2)*, quickened mass cure critical wounds (3); 

11th level- quickened empowered break spirit, quickened invested call upon faith, quickened dictum, empowered energy drain, invested righteous might (2)*, quickened invested shield of faith;

10th level- empowered fire storm (3), invested greater magic weapon, quickened heal (4);

9th level- act of god, astral projection*, disjunction buffer*, quickened flame strike, quickened lower resistance, invested magic vestment (2)**, mass heal (3), miracle, sunburst (D);

8th level- antimagic field, empowered deadly weapon*, dictum (2), discern location, quickened divine power, greater lower resistance, greater spell immunity (2)*, holy aura (D), mass death ward (2)*;

7th level- invested call upon faith (5), control weather, quickened invisibility purge, invested divine favor, invested shield of faith*, sunbeam (D), symbol of stunning, symbol of weakness;

6th level- banishment, blade barrier, forbiddance, greater dispel magic (2), harm, heal, heroes’ feast*, searing orb (D), quickened silence (4);

5th level- dispel chaos (D), greater command, quickened obscuring mist, plane shift (4), righteous might, scrying, slay living (2), true seeing* (2), wall of stone;

4th level- death ward*, neutralize poison (3), order’s wrath (D), restoration (3), tongues

3rd level- armor of sunlight (D), bestow curse (2), glyph of warding, locate object, remove blindness or deafness (5), searing light, stone shape, water breathing, water walk; 

2nd level- align weapon, augury, calm emotions, enthrall, lesser restoration (5), make whole, radiance of Galador (D)*, spiritual weapon, status, undetectable alignment, zone of truth;  

1st level- assess caster, call upon faith, command, detect chaos, divine favor (2), endure elements, protection from chaos (D), protection from evil, remove fear, sanctuary (2), shield of faith (2), summon monster I;

0th level- detect magic (6).
*Already cast.

Psionic Powers Known (ML 22, 379 power points; 59 already spent) (base DC x + power level):

9th level- microcosm, psychic chirurgery;

8th level- mind seed, psionic mind blank;

7th level- energy conversion, ultrablast;

6th level- psionic disintegrate, psionic overland flight;

5th level- anticipatory strike, psychic crush; 

4th level- correspond, schism*;

3rd level- energy retort*, psionic blast;

2nd level- mass missive, read thoughts

1st level- offensive precognition*, offensive prescience*.

*Spell-like Abilities (CL 45): *cha/day- command (DC x), endure elements. 


*Str* 44 (includes +5 inherent bonus and invested righteous might), *Dex* 10, *Con* 25 (includes +5 inherent bonus and invested righteous might), *Int* 33 (includes +10 inherent bonus), *Wis* 69 (includes +10 inherent bonus), *Cha* 45 (includes +10 inherent bonus)
*SQ* divine domains (Authority, Sun), portfolio elements
*Feats* Craft Magic Arms & Armor, Empower Spell, Leadership, Practiced Manifester, Practiced Spellcaster, Quicken Spell, Skill Focus (diplomacy), Spell Penetration 
*Epic Feats* Epic Leadership, Epic Spellcasting, Great Wisdom, Improved Spell Capacity (x3), Invest Spell, Planar Turning, Polyglot
*Skills* Concentration +55, Diplomacy +68, Heal +49, Knowledge (history) +49, Knowledge (the planes) +31, Knowledge (psionics) +35, Knowledge (religion) +51, Psicraft +59, Spellcraft +99 
*Possessions* +9 glamered full plate of heavy fortification (currently boosted to +11 via magic vestment), +8 heavy adamantine shield (currently boosted to +11 via magic vestment), Galador’s holiest, bracers of enhanced resistance +5, headband of the mind, +5 cloak of resistance, gauntlets of titan strength +10, belt of endurance +6, boots of flying, +6 axiomatic holy dense heavy mace (increased to +11 via invested greater magic weapon), ring of great defense, ring of freedom of movement

*Automatic Actions (Ex):* Prayzose can take two automatic actions involving his portfolio each round as free actions, so long as the DC of each action is 15 or less.

*Greater Turning (Su):* 1/day, Prayzose can make a greater turning attempt.  This works just like a normal turn undead check, except undead that would normally be turned are instead destroyed.

*Improved Polyglot (Ex):* Prayzose has the ability to speak, read and understand all languages, even nonverbal ones.  This includes even such obscure types of languages as scent-based or radio-based ones.

*Portfolio:* Prayzose’s portfolio elements are authority, the Forinthian Empire (and the very concept of empire) and the Light.

*Sacred Animal:* Prayzose’s sacred animal is the eagle.  Should he ever take levels in a class granting a familiar, he can use any eagle within ½ mile of himself as a familiar.  
*
Transport (Su):* Prayzose can instantly transport himself, along with up to 50 lbs. of unliving matter, up to 11,000 miles.  He can do this x/day.

*Unfailing Grace (Ex):* Prayzose does not explode downward upon rolling a natural 1 on a saving throw.


*Galador’s Holiest (Major Artifact)*

This holy symbol of Galador is composed of rubies, diamonds, sapphires and many other transparent or translucent gems with continual light cast within them.  It is the most magnificent hand-held holy symbol of Galador ever crafted.  The gems alone are worth nearly 2,000,000 gp.  In addition, it has potent magical properties, especially in the hands of a Galadorian. _Details Redacted._

*Headband of the Mind*

This potent headband gives the wearer a +10 enhancement bonus to intelligence, wisdom and charisma.  It also gives the wearer a bonus epic spell slot (assuming that he has the Epic Spellcasting feat).  

*Ring of Great Defense*

This magical ring gives the wearer impressive powers of defense.  It provides a constant DR 10/- and grants evasion and mettle.
*
New Spells*

*Disjunction Buffer*
Abjuration
Level: Clr 9, sor/wiz 9
Components: V, S, M
Casting Time: 1 standard action
Range: Touch
Targets: Up to one willing creature or object per level
Duration: 1 round/level or until triggered
Saving Throw: None
Spell Resistance: No

This spell exists solely to protect powerful individuals against Mordenkainen’s disjunction.  A creature warded by this spell that is caught in the area of such a spell will find that it only destroys this spell, rather than all magic upon him.  Using a disjunction buffer in this manner also protects that creature’s equipment.  The caster can ward objects against disjunction with this spell as well.

Disjunction buffer is destroyed when it cancels its first disjunction.  It has no effect on dispel magic or similar lesser versions of Mordenkainen’s disjunction.

*Material component:* a flawless diamond (worth at least 10,000 gp).  

New Epic Spells

*Authority of Prayzose*
Enchantment (compulsion)
Spellcraft DC: 15
Components: V, S
Casting Time: 1 minute
Range: 75’
Target: One living creature
Duration: 20 hours or until completed
Saving Throw: Will negates 
Spell Resistance: Yes
To Develop: 135,000 gp; 3 days; 5,400 xp.  Seed: Compel (DC 19).  Factors: allows unreasonable commands (+10 DC), increase save DC by +5 (+10 DC).  Mitigating factors: increase casting time by 10 minutes (-20 DC), increase casting time by 2 days (-4 DC).

This spell allows you to speak a command to the target.  The victim will obey even the most self-destructive commands until they are fulfilled or until the duration expires.

*Note: *Due to his automatic actions ability, Prayzose can cast this spell as a free action (as it involves his portfolio and has a DC of 15 or less).

*Burning Beam*
Evocation (fire)
Spellcraft DC: 14
Components: V, S
Casting Time: 45 days, 11 minutes
Range: 300’
Effect: Bolt of flame 5’ long and 300’ wide
Duration: Instantaneous
Saving Throw: Ref half
Spell Resistance: Yes
To Develop: 126,000 gp; 3 days; 5,040 xp.  Seed: Energy (DC 19).  Factors: Change half damage to divine (+5 DC), increase damage by 50 dice (+100 DC).  Mitigating factors: Increase casting time by 10 minutes (-20 DC), increase casting time by 45 days (-90 DC).

A burning beam blasts all creatures caught in the area with a brilliant beam of light, dealing 60d6 points of damage, half of which is divine and half of which is fire.

*Note:* Due to his automatic actions ability, Prayzose can cast this spell as a free action (as it involves his portfolio and has a DC of 15 or less).
*
Knowledge of the Hierophants*
Transmutation
Spellcraft DC: 87
Components: V, S
Casting Time: 17 days, 11 minutes
Range: Personal
Target: You
Duration: 20 days
To Develop: 783,000 gp; 16 days; 31,320 xp.  Seed: Fortify (DC 17).  Factors: increase bonus by +39 (+78 DC); increase duration to 20 days (+48 DC).  Mitigating factors: Increase casting time by 10 minutes (-20 DC); increase casting time by 17 days (-34 DC); change from target to personal (-2 DC).

Knowledge of the hierophants grants you a +40 competence bonus to Spellcraft checks.

*Wisdom of the Hierophants*
Transmutation
Spellcraft DC: 87
Components: V, S
Casting Time: 17 days, 11 minutes
Range: Personal
Target: You
Duration: 20 days
To Develop: 783,000 gp; 16 days; 31,320 xp.  Seed: Fortify (DC 17).  Factors: increase bonus by +39 (+78 DC); increase duration to 20 days (+48 DC).  Mitigating factors: Increase casting time by 10 minutes (-20 DC); increase casting time by 17 days (-34 DC); change from target to personal (-2 DC).

Wisdom of the Hierophants grants you a +40 enhancement bonus to wisdom.

*New Feat*

*INVEST SPELL (Epic, Metamagic)*

You can increase the bonuses granted by your spells.

*Prerequisites: *Empower Spell, Spellcraft (24 ranks)
*
Benefit:* An invested spell has all of its static, non-variable numeric effects increased by +6.  For example, an invested shield spell grants a +10 shield bonus to AC rather than the normal +4.

An invested spell takes up a slot 6 levels higher than normal.


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

That's awesome.  And some parts which are silly awesome, like I'm not sure how I feel about the DC 15 spellcraft check epic spells...I mean, I like the idea of giving deities tremendous power there, but the damage is pretty much arbitrary-you could make it do 200000d6 damage and just bump up the casting time for years in exchange for making it a free action.  You didn't though, and it looks like it added to the fun so much kudos.

Where does the Chronomancer PrC come from?  I don't recall seeing it in your campaign specific stuff.

Did Marius actually benefit from all those stored heal spells?  Or did he not really take damage til the very end where it was moot point since *everyone* was focusing on him?

Prayzose = Badass.  His one weakness seems to be his lack of Dexterity.  What's the need for a +Spellcraft boosting spell when his other epic spells aren't already ridiculously high DCs?  I also like the description of his Grace ability   Also, with his DC's, I don't see why he didn't basically kill a PC a round?  Did he just not do much offense until he gated in Galador?

Damn details redacted stuff, just making us drool for more, Jester!

Fantastic end to this part of the campaign's storyarc, I can't wait to see where the PCs go next.


----------



## Baron Opal

Any chance on a write up of the new pantheon?

I suppose we learn what happens to Galador, Bleak and their churches in the next SH.


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## Mathew_Freeman

I bow to the awesome. 

That was a fantastic end - and I can't wait to see what happens next!


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## the Jester

Sollir Furryfoot said:
			
		

> That's awesome.  And some parts which are silly awesome, like I'm not sure how I feel about the DC 15 spellcraft check epic spells...I mean, I like the idea of giving deities tremendous power there, but the damage is pretty much arbitrary-you could make it do 200000d6 damage and just bump up the casting time for years in exchange for making it a free action.  You didn't though, and it looks like it added to the fun so much kudos.




Yeah, that was tricky to pull off without being ridiculous. Well, more ridiculous. But I tried to balance it with 'fun' in mind, rather than just making something that would do 80 bazillion d20s in damage. 



			
				Sollir Furryfoot said:
			
		

> Where does the Chronomancer PrC come from?  I don't recall seeing it in your campaign specific stuff.




It's custom; a custom epic prestige class. Hmm, It's in the epic file- but you may not have that one. Are you already in my Yahoo Cydra group? I'll try to upload it to the 'files' section sometime this evening...



			
				Sollir Furryfoot said:
			
		

> Did Marius actually benefit from all those stored heal spells?  Or did he not really take damage til the very end where it was moot point since *everyone* was focusing on him?




Between this, and all the _disjunctions_ flying around, you pretty much got it.



			
				Sollir Furryfoot said:
			
		

> Prayzose = Badass.  His one weakness seems to be his lack of Dexterity.  What's the need for a +Spellcraft boosting spell when his other epic spells aren't already ridiculously high DCs?  I also like the description of his Grace ability   Also, with his DC's, I don't see why he didn't basically kill a PC a round?  Did he just not do much offense until he gated in Galador?




It was the fumbled initiative. He lost a round's worth of actions from that- and then rolled really low on initiative to boot. So by the time he could pick the pace up at all, the die was pretty well cast.



			
				Sollir Furryfoot said:
			
		

> Fantastic end to this part of the campaign's storyarc, I can't wait to see where the PCs go next.




Neither can I!


----------



## Alcar

*One More*

I think you should at least post Alcar's huge party afterward.....

Perhaps you should call the next story hour:

"A Day in the Life of the Summer League Team". or
"Thrush: Warrior or Pretty Princess" or maybe even
"ChaosCakes, use only as directed"....

BUMP


----------



## Knightfall

Excellent ending, J. It's been fun reading this story hour. I can't wait for the next installment of the Cydra Chronicles!


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## Alcar

*Prayzose*

I took another look at 'ol Prayzose...

Other than his wisdom, and magic items, he's a chump

His strength is 40 some with an invested righteous might? That means his actual strength is only 20 some.. His con must really suck if it's 25 'with' invested righteous might

I knew I could take him down, and he found out what happens when the grandkids don't do what there told.

Marius was  an excellently played evil genius, Prayzose was a chump with lady problems.


----------



## Alcar

*Blah Blah*

And how did Prayzose have a quickend fire storm packed? It's a full round casting.


----------



## Krafus

Thanks for the stats, Jester.  Hmm, Marius is a few levels below what I expected (I put him in the 32-34 range), whereas Prayzose is way higher than I thought (I believed he'd be 40th level max).


----------



## the Jester

Alcar said:
			
		

> And how did Prayzose have a quickend fire storm packed? It's a full round casting.




Whoops! Straight up oversight. My bad. Good thing you guys didn't get tpked by that particular spell.


----------



## Brain

Great updates J; reading them brought back the emotions involved.  Inoke developed into quite an interesting and challenging character to roleplay.  The description of Inoke's encounter with Prayzose may help the other players to understand.  The characters are another story.  

One bit of detail - Inoke didn't escape with boots of teleportation (he never managed to find any teleporting device, not for lack of trying).  He used a psionic power to swap positions with a chronal repeater that was inside a walled off area.  Therefore he got _anticipated_ and disappeared for several rounds.  (And I had weeks of wondering what happened to him after the session was over).


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

I'm party of the Cydra yahoo group, but haven't seen any epic rules.  Then again, it's been like a year since I've checked it I think.

Any chance for Master Control's stats? 

Also, IIRC the Judge of the Worlds had some actual 'world cleansing' ability, was it just mostly fluff or did he ever attempt to use it?


----------



## the Jester

Sollir Furryfoot said:
			
		

> I'm party of the Cydra yahoo group, but haven't seen any epic rules.  Then again, it's been like a year since I've checked it I think.




I'll go double check and make sure it's on the file after I post this. 



			
				Sollir Furryfoot said:
			
		

> Any chance for Master Control's stats?
> 
> Also, IIRC the Judge of the Worlds had some actual 'world cleansing' ability, was it just mostly fluff or did he ever attempt to use it?




As to Master Control, maybe in the "no-player-lookee" thread I can talk about him a little bit.

The Judge never had a chance to use his Judge Worlds ability; basically, there was never a point where chaotic beings sufficiently outnumbered lawful ones for it to be a good option, until the JoW was already down.


----------



## the Jester

Just a quick link to the start of the next thread, Empires of Chaos. I haven't actually posted anything other than a 'what has gone before' kind of thing, but hey, there you go!


----------



## Technik4

Whew, I know I'm a little late but FANTASTIC STORY HOUR! 

Those epic fights are ridiculous and very fun to read. I can't believe it all ended with 2 gods being summoned, but somehow it completely fits. 

On a side note, do you plan on updating to 4e Cydra this summer? It seems they took out the entire Lawful/Chaotic aspect of D&D!


----------



## the Jester

Technik4 said:
			
		

> On a side note, do you plan on updating to 4e Cydra this summer? It seems they took out the entire Lawful/Chaotic aspect of D&D!




Yes I do, and I have already given a great deal of thought to the changes to the cosmology et. al. Honestly? It fits right in with a really bitchin' plot idea I had, but then thought, "Man, that's just _too over the top_, even for my game!"

Then I looked at the 4e preview and thought... "Oh HELL yeah!!!"


----------



## Brain

the Jester said:
			
		

> Yes I do, and I have already given a great deal of thought to the changes to the cosmology et. al. Honestly? It fits right in with a really bitchin' plot idea I had, but then thought, "Man, that's just _too over the top_, even for my game!"
> 
> Then I looked at the 4e preview and thought... "Oh HELL yeah!!!"




I wish you would!


----------



## the Jester

Brain said:
			
		

> I wish you would!




You guys have actually already seen hints about it...


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Jester, Your storyhours are splendid as alvays. But ... JJ fornicating with Pool of Law ? 
It was so insane that I almost fainted from laughing ! Please give us more of Your heroes.

BTW, do You have plans on expanding basic 4e 30 levels further or it will be "The End" for the campaign ?


----------

