# (Epic Cydra) Empires of Chaos



## the Jester (Dec 25, 2007)

This story hour will follow right on the heels of Great Conflicts.

*WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE*

The material plane of Cydra has been at the center point of a devastating Great War of Ethics for centuries, but in the last few years it has truly heated to a boil. This Great War pit Law against Chaos throughout the multiverse, but on Cydra things reached a particularly fevered pitch, and, eventually, a climax.

The champions of the side of order were known as the Arrows of Law, and they included both Asmodeus, the Lord of the Hells, and the God-Emperor Prayzose, ruler of the Forinthian Empire and high priest of the Church of the Light. The champions of Chaos, on the other hand, have no set name or membership; they consist of an ever-shifting band of incredibly powerful adventurers (our heroes, the pcs and npcs making up the party that this campaign revolves around). Recently, the party managed to destroy Asmodeus with the help of his predecessor, Lucifer, whom they let free from eons of bondage. This shift in the balance of powers amongst the Arrows led Emperor Prayzose to secretly offer the vacant Arrow’s position to Inoke, a member of the party. After hearing Prayzose’s honeyed words, Inoke was persuaded, though he swore that he would not fight his friends, and Prayzose agreed to his condition.

Eventually, the conflict between our heroes and the Arrows of Law came to a head. In deadly combat, the party managed to defeat all of the Arrows, slaying and _soul binding_ most of them (though they could not manage to _soul bind_ Prayzose). Inoke, who had not yet been installed as the seventh Arrow, managed to escape in the end. In the finale of the conflict, Prayzose _gated_ in his god, Galador Himself, to fight against the fierce forces that the party had brought to bear (including Tiamat, on loan from Lucifer). But our heroes, prompted by the so-called “New Gods” of Cydra (who were actually old gods from a previous multiverse that had been devoured by a terrible entity called Tharizdun), were waiting for just that- and _gated_ in a god of their own: Vandreu, with his black sword and black shield. Vandreu and Galador began to battle mercilessly, and Vandreu warned our heroes to flee from the divine forces being unleashed. They did so, but had managed to destroy the Bastion of Law, which was the fortress that metaphorically represented Law, kill all of the Arrows and call down the wrath of Vandreu on Galador. It was as complete of a victory as they could hope for.  

Amongst the loot they found were both Prayzose’s crown and _the rod of the Dark Emperor_- a symbol of authority over the Dark Empire of Strogass. Our heroes have long put the idea that he should become the Forinthian Emperor into the head of Thrush, one of their number, the foremost swordsman of their age; and now that Prayzose is dead, he is ready to move forward with that ambition. When the loot was split, Dorn Wankerman, Xaositecht and cohort of Gerontius, took _the rod of the Dark Emperor,_ and it has kindled the idea in his mind that he, too, could rule an empire. And who could stop him? For our heroes are now the most powerful people on all of Cydra.

Yet they still have enemies. What political rivals or military problems they might face due to the imperial ambitions of Thrush and Wankerman are, as yet, unknown; but they have unfinished business with the King of Bile and the Queen of Guts at Bile Mountain, and they know that two more Angels of the Apocalypse have ‘come through’ to Cydra from the ashes of the old multiverse. 

And there are other threats, too, that they do not yet comprehend- from an underwater island of horrors to the far-flung plan of Lucifer that relies on major victories for the demons invading the Nine Hells to the void disciples at the bottom of the multiverse....


----------



## the Jester (Dec 26, 2007)

*Dramatis Personae*

Who are our heroes?

It’s a question we may as well start answering early on, as we’ll need to answer it some time. And it’s sometimes, somewhat ambiguous what makes a “hero”, but these are _our_ heroes- our party of adventurers, our pcs and allies- and let’s leave it at that, shall we?

They are not all famous in all the same places, or for all the same things, but they’re all famous in their own arenas. They are none of them to be underestimated. They are slayers of beings of god-like power, enders of empires, names that will be remembered for thousands of years. 

For those of you that would just like names and a brief idea of class and level, think 23rd-30th level. And I try to make the class pretty clear right away. The names are bolded; if the background bores you, just skip it. 

Let’s start with the two who would be emperors. 

*Thrush,* the foremost of swordsman of his age, is a fighter, pure and simple and deadly. He could probably kill an entire army single-handedly with that greatsword of his. He isn’t all that bright, but he figures that an emperor is as smart as all of his advisors put together. Thrush was an army man first, in the Forinthian army, and later an adventurer on the island of Pesh. But his adventures there led his party and him into Bile Mountain. They were skilled and savvy enough to win their way past monsters, traps and tricks to the top; but once there, they were trapped. The party fought the Bile Lords at first, but when they realized that the Bile Lords were trapped there, too, Thrush elected to surrender at the last, after his allies were dead, and agreed to work for the Bile Lords. About a decade later, when our heroes were making their own forays into Bile Mountain, they, too, won their way to the top level. Thrush served as an example, a warning and a bodyguard- but the Bile Lords did not anticipate the man’s need for companionship. Sybele seduced him, and has been with him (loosely, for she is a slut) ever since. Together, the party figured a way out of Bile Mountain, defeated the Bile Lords and have traveled together ever since. Recently, some of the party’s other members have put the idea in his head that he should become the next emperor of Forinthia, and he has decided that sounds pretty good! Thrush is an npc straight-up fighter who is permanently _enlarged_ (a common theme in the party). 

*Dorn Wankerman* came into the party as the cohort of one of the pcs, Gerontius. He’s a member of the faction called the Xaositechts, out of the planar city of Sigil. Wankerman is a most impressive figure, being permanently _enlarged_. He has focused on a combination of spear-related and charge-related feats and abilities, plus the Xaositecht prestige class from the _Planar Handbook_. Wankerman also has the Bullywug Breakdance homebrewed tactical feat. Since one of his treasure picks from the fight with the Arrows of Law was the _rod of the Dark Emperor,_ he has decided to make a play for the throne of the Dark Empire of far-off Strogass. 

The interesting thing about both would-be emperors is that they are npcs, and that both of their attempts at becoming emperors were instigated by pcs. 

Then we have *Horbin the MFKG Holy*, an epic cleric who has recently become the Bishop of Western Dorhaus and gone into semi-retirement. However, as he is headquartered in the Halls of Healing in the city of Var, where our heroes spend a great deal of time, there is no doubt that we’ll be seeing a lot of him. Horbin’s adventuring history goes far back, to a party of orcs from Valonia that traveled all the way to Dorhaus by accident, where they briefly tickled the Temple of Elemental Evil for a brief period. These early encounters were formative for Horbin, as he would later oppose the Temple of Elemental Evil again when nigh-epic. He also traveled on a ship of strange, mechanical design; it was covered by mechanical insects as big as a small dog, but they were inactive. Until, that is, Horbin and his companions accidentally reactivated them. They ended up fleeing the metal ship as it sank into the ocean to begin some strange kind of transformation. A few years later, Horbin met up with the original members of the current party and joined forces for, among other things, their first foray into Bile Mountain. During this period, the party had several clashes with forces of Law, during which it was made crystal clear that Horbin’s clerical powers would not function against Galadorians. Eventually, the party overthrew and destroyed the Temple of Elemental Evil and collapsed its foul elemental nodes, hopefully forever.

*Baron Lillamere of House Drelvin* is the nephew of an old, and now dead, party member, Drelvin the Archer. Lillamere is a sorcerer and a baron; as such, he is taking levels in an epic prestige class I am creating for him called the eldritch liege. Originally, he, Inoke, Veil (another recently-deceased character eaten by artifact possession) and Gerontius were a band of high-level adventurers that came into contact with the rest of our heroes during a battle against giants in the ruins of a city on Dorhaus near where Lillamere’s fief, Brelana, now is. The two parties joined forces, and it’s been excellent going ever since. In addition to sorcerer levels, Lillamere has taken the argent savant route, specializing in force spells. 

The other from Lillamere’s old party that remains with the current group include *Gerontius,* a halfling rogue/invisible blade mean guy with a dagger. Thanks to the touch of Chaos, Gerontius has the air subtype and can fly, and he also speaks in an outrageous French accent because of Chaos. Ahh, Chaos. His skin and hair and eyes are paler than any normal halfling’s, shading to blue. Gerontius is probably the best person alive on Cydra with a dagger, and his skill at bluffing is so incredible that he can probably succeed at lying to many gods. Gerontius has recently made it a point to champion the halflings of Valonia, who are under siege by the Valonian orcs allied with Law. 

*Inoke,* a warmind who began as a psychic warrior and used to be a barbarian as well (before he shifted to Lawful alignment) was a party member until recently, but his defection to the Arrows of Law and the final battle with the Arrows has left the rest of the party disenchanted with Inoke. They are not yet certain as to his disposition after the finale of the fight with the Arrows. Inoke is big and burly, vaguely Samoan in appearance (he’s from the Parrot Isles). He wears a strange, cat-shaped helm that is a relic of the ancient Miloxi Empire, an empire of tabaxi (cat-people). Inoke is incredibly formidable; the “Inoke Special” (which is a charge benefiting from _psionic lion’s charge_ with all of Inoke’s special attack po0wers in full swing) was sufficient to kill Asmodeus himself in a single round of melee! Now his fate and his future are unknown. Will we see more of Inoke, or is he dead already? Well, I took the time to write a paragraph about him, so that should tell you something, anyway.

*Sybele* is a “big girl”- a warrior of chaos/fighter/psion who has grown to large size via Chaos’ powers. She was blonde and buxom when she was normal-sized; now that she has grown, her bust has become truly tremendous. She is a burly warrior, favoring both a humungous greatsword and a bow almost as tall as herself. However, she is also quite a lover. She originally adventured on Tirchond, fighting with the revolutionaries against Forinthian occupation. She has been with the current party since it formed before their first trip to Bile Mountain, fought Asmodeus and the Arrows of Law, had a daughter who was threatened with death by Marius when she attacked the Arrows, and is the consort of Thrush, though not a very faithful one. Whenever he is not present, Sybele is rubbing up against someone else- probably a very dangerous thing to do, as Thrush is both jealous and short-tempered. However, he seems to see no wrong in Sybele no matter what she does. She has three kids- Jezebel, the half-dragon child she was given by the steel dragon Kel, and a pair of twins by Thrush. The touch of Chaos has affected her in odd ways- for example, she cannot remember peoples’ names, even her own. 

Recently, the party has been joined by a half-slaad wilder named *Jibber Junior.* He is the progeny of Jibber, a singing slaad that the party encountered just before their first trip to Bile Mountain. As an anarchic initiate, JJ (as Jibber Junior is commonly called) was a big fan of the party’s work for Chaos, intentional or not. When the party called for allies to fight the Arrows of Law in a Xaositecht get together in Sigil, he joined them eagerly. He has proven quite useful, though often it seems that only sheer dumb luck saves him from destruction. 

*Alcar* was a cleric/fighter of a heretical sect of Galadorians from Gorel who was elevated to angel status as a reward for a job well done against the menace of the ancient lich E-Krektor and the clockwork horrors. Called the Angel of Food, he had a _backpack of infinite food_ that he would dispense blessings from nearly constantly. However, he subsequently got into trouble with his angelic superiors in the Heavenly Bureaucracy, and his backpack was taken away. He was then sent back to Cydra, where he first met up with several of the members of the party that were later to storm Bile Mountain, including Sybele, while they were guarding the dragon eggs that he had been sent to destroy. In the ensuing standoff, the party managed to stave Alcar off through a combination of their ally Kel, the steel dragon, and diplomacy by Alcar’s old friend Sun Si. Later, Alcar joined the party to attack Bile Mountain, only to die within the place’s dungeons. However, Horbin later brought him back to life with a _true resurrection_. Alcar’s relationship with the church degenerated over time. From his beginnings as a heretic of Gorel, he was derided as heterodox at best. His temple, periodically besieged by the demon lord Dagon, did not perform the rituals in proper Forinthian, instead using the vernacular. There was edification of fire, rather than the more pure light. And there was the matter of his superiors refusing to allow him to see Galador on demand. Eventually, Alcar foreswore his service to Galador and took up the mantle of champion of one of the new gods- Bless, the lord of lost causes and hopeless quests. Now his white and gold have been traded in for the grey of his new god. 

*Lester*, the Elementalist, head of the Temple of Elemental Good, the Angel of Adventure, is an elementalist/warrior of chaos with a smattering of prestige class dips, including divine oracle, contemplative, and paraelementalist. (Elementalist is a homebrewed Cydran base class.) With his gills and bat wings, he clearly shows the mark of Chaos. More importantly, he is trying to become a god: the god of adventure and adventurers. And his pedigree as an adventurer is pretty darn good: among other things, he has fought the Angel of the Apocalypse Fuligin, who depopulated Dorhaus for over a century; traveled back in time to a previous multiverse; destroyed Felenga, the Dark One, a second Angel of the Apocalypse; overcome the Tomb of Horrors, and followed Acererak’s twisted path all the way to the Fortress of Conclusion (well, or at least been returned to life near the end of it); thrown down the Temple of Elemental Evil, not once, but twice; killed Imix, the Prince of Evil Elemental Fire creatures; slain Asmodeus, Lord of Hell; and overthrown Law itself to win the Great War of Ethics for Chaos! Oh, sure, it wasn’t all him by himself, but whatever. Swarthy, currently wearing his hair in cornrows, wearing dark-tinted spectacles, Lester is the epitome of cool... and of adventure. 

*Orbius, the Eye of Boccob,* is Lester’s cohort: a diviner/divine oracle. He met Lester years ago on a pirate ship (rumor has it that one day, there may be a story hour post about this) and has accompanied him loyally ever since. Orbius is a compelling argument as to why diviners should require two opposed schools, just like everyone else: yeah, they need to invest time and money in divinations first, but the party is devastating effective, because they know everything there is to know about their enemies, their lairs, their situations and (if they want to) their love lives.

*Blazier*, another member of the Xaositecht faction (if not prestige class) is another recent addition, joining the party at about the same time as JJ. He is a sorcerer/metamagician and a gnome. He feels that Horbin sold out when he accepted the position of Bishop of West Dorhaus, which is ironic, since Blaze is the replacement pc for Horbin, since he’s semi-retired (or at least, trying to be). 

*Chakar* is a monk on the path to personal perfection. There are times when he is uncertain as to which path to take (as when his monk status and his dwarven nature were conflicted over whether to drink beer), but on the whole, he has found and followed his path. Chakar has been tutored by the Perfect Master Pan Lo, and has begun taking levels in the Perfect Master epic prestige class that I crafted for him.

The party has many other allies, including Mabrack the storm giant wizard, but for now, those are the party and most closely associated npcs. And that’s it for the introductory stuff- the next post should be an actual story hour update.  (Hopefully later tonight!)


----------



## the Jester (Dec 26, 2007)

*After the Great Conflicts*

Gorel is a tropical island, almost entirely covered by thick jungle. On the coast, there is a place where a temple is built on an uprising above the sea. This temple- to Galador- is not along the lines of most Galadorian temples. There are no idols. There _are_ fire pits. Some exploration might reveal other small things that all add up to one conclusion. 

_Heretics._

These aren’t orthodox Galadorians, oh no. Well, it depends on who you ask; if you ask Alcar- the sect’s founder- he will tell you that, in a _commune_, he asked if he was a heretic, and he was told “no”. 

But if you ask an inquisitor about things like that, they will shrug and point out that intermediaries are speaking for Galador, so in questions that require judgment, the answer may not always strictly speaking be as Galador Himself would answer it. 

To which Alcar might reply that men who think they know God’s mind better than the angels that actually talk to Him ought to shut the hell up before he _fire storms_ them. Because Alcar is kind of like that. Talk too much smack about his people and he will throw down.

Or, on the other hand, threaten his temple- say, by infesting the waters with demonic influence (perhaps by being a demon prince with lots of demon servants)- and you are likely to get him to throw down. 

Dagon has long been an adversary to Alcar and his temple. In his absence- while he has been adventuring with the rest of the party- Dagon, demon prince of water, has moved in next door (so to speak) to the temple. And water demons- _Probably hezrou,_ thinks Alcar- have been causing problems. 

Well, no demon prince can stand long against the party that took down the Arrows of Law. It is almost anticlimactic; the party storms the watery lair of Dagon, and the demon falls in mere moments. Lester and Orbius together tear the material form of Dagon apart with their incredible magical prowess. The hezrou and other lackey monsters are incinerated by a _meteor swarm_. 

It is amazing to realize that taking out a demon prince has become a routine sort of affair for our heroes, but thinking back on it, there have been multiple other instances like this. They once randomly decided to track down and kill Lithos, the legendary black dragon of the Swamp of Lithos. And there was the time they killed the pit fiend of the Stinking Pit and rescued the phoenix egg- though, granted, that may not have been the greatest idea in the long run, since it led to Lucifer’s return and the overthrow of Asmodeus. Alcar shakes his head. The important thing is, his people are safe. 

The party returns to his temple to tell them what he has done. He also tells them that he has changed gods, and he releases his retainers from his service. “Any who wish to follow my new god are welcome,” he tells them somberly. “But I will not hold it against anyone who wishes to remain a follower of the Light. However...” He hesitates for a moment. “It remains to be seen how tenable of a choice that is,” he says at last. 

***

That night, at the Temple of Elemental Good- damaged, but with plenty of intact buildings and places to party- there is, in fact, a party. It’s a celebration, and everyone has a great time. As usual, when Lester is involved, there are groupies. This is not a bad thing, to most of our heroes. A good time is had by all. 

While they are there, they meet a traveler, who happened upon the valley that the Temple rests in quite by accident: a tabaxi named Bahgerah. He, apparently, is associated with Hobbes, a tabaxi leader and one of Lester’s old adventuring buddies. After some small talk, Bahgerah expresses an interest in joining the party, at least for a while.

Our heroes shrug. Why not? A quick look-over confirms that he’s not unspeakably evil or anything, and most of them have worked with tabaxi a time or two in the past. 

The party continues the next day, and lasts all through the night. The Temple of Elemental Good knows how to throw a bash. There is a huge amount of wine and beer (thank goodness, as Sybele and Thrush are all much larger than normal) (Wankerman doesn’t generally drink), and more than enough food for everyone.

The next morning, most of our heroes return to the town of Var. It is growing, day by day, under the just rulership of God-King Malford the Magnificent. Malford is, of course, liege to Lillamere, and (in theory) lord of all of western and northern Dorhaus. Of course, an empty claim to so many empty miles might well be disputed sometime, but Malford has proven quite able in disputation. One of the favorite haunts of our heroes is a fairly upper-class tavern and inn called the Three Rubies. The Three Rubies is a known hang-out of some of Lester’s adventurer groupies, and for someone as wealthy as the party members all are, the prices are no obstacle. Thrush and Sybele, on the other hand, are nowhere to be seen; they are beginning the political maneuvers necessary to take over the Empire, and Chakar has gone to Belmondo’s Lighthouse, in search of another old ally of the party: Belmondo the Enhanced. Belmondo is a dwarven inventor who specializes in prosthetics, including the strange magical device that functions as a prosthetic for him.

At the lighthouse- a very impressive edifice, with a masterful beacon at the top- Chakar reports over the telepathic link that bonds them, _Nothing. He’s not here._

_Well, where is he, I wonder,_ muses Lillamere.

_Master Control has him,_ predicts Alcar. _Hold on, I’ll find out._ At the bar, he casts _commune_, and Bless- his new god, lord of lost causes and hopeless quests- answers. 

_Is Belmondo on the prime material plane?_ *Yes.*
_Is he under the direct control of Master Control?_ *Yes?*
_Is he within 100 miles of Dorhaus?_ *No.*
_1000?_ *Yes.*
_Do we need protection against radiation?_ *Yes.*
_Must we pass clockwork horrors to get to where he is?_ *Yes.*

Alcar grimaces. _I was right, _he thinks. _Master Control._

He has a few more questions, but the only pertinent one is whether or not they can _teleport_ to somewhere near Belmondo. And the answer is _yes._

“We need to rescue him,” Alcar tells the others, reporting what he learned telepathically. 

“I agree,” nods Lillamere. “What kind of strategy do we need to use?” 

“_Shatter,_” suggests Alcar. 

Blaze pipes up, “I can do that.”

“Good. Cast upon their crystals, it will pretty much take out a horror.” The angel of lost causes grins fiercely. “Let’s get him out of there, wherever ‘there’ is!”

But before our heroes rise to leave, a figure enters. He is wearing fancy livery; it takes our heroes a moment before Orbius tells them telepathically, _ That’s the garb of a messenger of Kembrin, that fire elemental lord of the crimsonkindl that sent emissaries to us once before._

The messenger approaches, hesitates, and bows. “Hello, great ones,” he intones. “I am here to congratulate you on your victory over your foes, as well as over Pasha Amhari Ifroobil.” He presents a box to them.

“What is this?” demands Blaze. “What’s inside of it?”

“Uh, I don’t know- I am just a messenger,” the lad replies uncertainly. 

“He’s not going to mess with us,” Baron Lillamere drawls. Lillamere is a tall, stately elf. Though effete, he is extraordinarily handsome. Sadly, he is slightly gloomy: he and his lover, Hyliss, have just broken up. He looks the box over magically for a few moments. Then he shrugs. “Nothing that I can see that looks dangerous.”

Bahgerah sniffs at it. “No radiation,” he reports.

“You can smell radiation?” exclaims Gerontius. “Zat is a worthwhile talent that you ‘ave. It will probably prove most useful!”

Alcar opens the box. It is full of gems. 

“It’s a thank you for taking out that efreeti pasha,” JJ remarks. “Hurray!”

“Weren’t we about to go take care of something important?” yawns Lillamere. 

The messenger is abashed. 

”Tell your master thanks,” Bahgerah purrs. The messenger nods and leaves. 

_You guys want to come pick me up before you go?_ Chakar requests over the link.

_I think I’ll join you too,_ Sybele tells them mentally. _It’s pretty boring here- just my honey and a bunch of military guys talking._ 

_Fair enough,_ answers Gerontius wryly. _The more, the merrier._

_*Next Time:*_ The rescue of Belmondo!


----------



## Baron Opal (Dec 26, 2007)

Alright. I've been looking forward to this.


----------



## Angel of Adventure (Dec 26, 2007)

*Why does Lester deserve to be God of Adventure?*

A selected reading from _To War Against Felenga_:

*Lester never hesitates. He has one big sunlight spell left, and he casts it right between the hovering skull and the Phylactery of the Apotheosis. A sunburst explodes, and for a moment no one can see. There’s a loud crack! and a spray of jagged shrapnel smashes into everyone; and then, when their eyes clear (although Orbius is blinded) they can see that the Phylactery of the Apotheosis has shattered into a million fragments, with many of the largest portions falling into the darkness of the Negative Energy Plane below.

“NOOO!” screams the demilich, but before anyone else can move, the L fires a quickened shatter at the skull. Acererak gives a terrible, high-pitched wail- and the skull explodes in a flare of violet-black energy. * 

How can you beat that?  First the phylactory, then the demilich, all in 1 rd!  Worship me!

-AoA


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot (Dec 27, 2007)

Cool, can't wait to see where this goes.


----------



## Krud (Dec 27, 2007)

<claims a seat close to the story teller before the rush>

More epic goodness


----------



## Mathew_Freeman (Dec 31, 2007)

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> A selected reading from _To War Against Felenga_:
> 
> *Lester never hesitates. He has one big sunlight spell left, and he casts it right between the hovering skull and the Phylactery of the Apotheosis. A sunburst explodes, and for a moment no one can see. There’s a loud crack! and a spray of jagged shrapnel smashes into everyone; and then, when their eyes clear (although Orbius is blinded) they can see that the Phylactery of the Apotheosis has shattered into a million fragments, with many of the largest portions falling into the darkness of the Negative Energy Plane below.
> 
> ...




Darn right!

Looking forward to the continued crazy adventures of the highest level party in the land!


----------



## the Jester (Jan 1, 2008)

Incidentally, anyone who was around and reading my old story hour, with Captain Clambake, Sith, Horbin et. al. is in for a treat next update.


----------



## LightPhoenix (Jan 1, 2008)

I just wanted to say, I read the whole story hour from Agents of Chaos over the last week.  I've enjoyed it a lot, and I can't wait to read more!  Excellent work by you and your players!


----------



## the Jester (Jan 3, 2008)

LightPhoenix said:
			
		

> I just wanted to say, I read the whole story hour from Agents of Chaos over the last week.  I've enjoyed it a lot, and I can't wait to read more!  Excellent work by you and your players!




Hey, awesome! Welcome aboard! 

I don't know if you checked out my old story hour (the one just called "The Jester's OLD Story Hour") with some of Horbin's early adventures, but the next epic update (about 35% done- should be up by Friday) actually _revisits_ a piece of it.


----------



## the Jester (Jan 3, 2008)

*To Rescue Belmondo!*

The group assembles: Sybele, Alcar, Blazier, Wankerman, Gerontius, Chakar, Bahgerah, JJ and Baron Lillamere. As they gather, they are hailed as heroes by passersby, and Alcar _heals_ a blind baby. Such is the life of epic heroes. 

“I know that we can’t go right to Alcar, but I can _superior teleport_ us to the closest possible place,” Baron Lillamere suggest. The others concur, and the elven baron casts his spell. The party vanishes from Brelana (their final stop on the ‘gathering’ part of things) only to reappear on a small island within ten miles of Belmondo. 

It is desolate, almost lifeless, with only a few small shrubs on it. Our heroes will probably never see it again. They leave it behind immediately, using various methods to take to the air, Alcar leading the way. Before long, Gerontius spies something immense beneath the waves, glinting of metal. “Look zere!” he calls. “Zere is something underwater!”

_Let’s see what it is,_ Alcar sends over the telepathic bond that the champions of Chaos share. (Bahgerah is the only person present who is not on the link, since he just joined the party.) The angel prays to his new god, Bless, and the water begins to froth. In only a few moments, it seems to drain away, deeper, deeper... to reveal a terrible, terrible thing.

***

_*Years Ago*

Horbin was on a great big ship made out of metal, along with his companions, Clambake, Krunkshank, Sith and Bolfol. The clockwork master Titus was on board, as well, trying to master the ship. There were no other living things on the vessel, at least as far as Horbin knew, but the _bugs_ were everywhere. They were made of different metals, mostly copper, but some of other materials. Each had a dark violet crystal set in its head. All of them were frozen, immobile, inert. They were the size of a medium dog. 

At least, at first.

The ship was fascinating to explore. They had found a control panel and briefly tampered with it, but then subsequently left alone.  One thing that had caught the party’s eyes was a single crystal control rod in the control chamber that was unlike the rest. It had two prongs coming out of it rather than being shaped like a long needle. It’s about the biggest adventure they could find on board; yet for quite some time, nobody could find anywhere to plug it in.

Then one day, while exploring the bowels of the vessel, Sith, Bolfol and Horbin found a strange panel with two adjacent depressions in it. Shaped differently from most of the plugs on the ship, they looked tailored to the mysterious two pronged crystal control rod. Could the mystery be solved at last? 

The three adventurers clambered up ladders, crawled through small passages, and walked through metal hallways, finally reaching the control panel. There, on the floor in a heap of other unused control rods, was the two-pronged plug. 

The three adventurers, demonstrating their collective wisdom- for even Horbin was then young and impetuous- took the mysterious two-pronged crystal control rod back down to the chamber with the panel with the plug it looked like was made for it. The walls of the room were lined with a strange copper-colored metal. Bolfol, Sith and Horbin clustered around the panel. Sith held the plug, and gingerly inserted it.

Immediately, there was a distant but LOUD noise. And lights went on.

Lots of them. 

The orcish necromancer tried to pull it out, but the rod, once inserted, seemed to be pretty set on staying put. So he buffed himself with a _bull’s strength_ and tried again, to no avail.

Then there was the sound of hatches opening everywhere and sudden activity... 

The bugs had animated.

The party burst into action. A door sealed them in with a hiss. Over a dozen of the little bugs began pouring in to the chamber with them. Most were copper but one was gold and several others were silver. There was the smell of ozone as the gold one fired a bolt of coruscating lightning into the three adventurers. The two silver bugs began firing little missiles at Horbin. The party stuck, whirled, smashed; Sith destroyed the gold construct with the chain he had taken from the mistress of chains that the party fought previously. A silver bug popped a spinning saw blade on Horbin, but he adeptly parried it and struck back. In less than a minute the clockwork bugs in the area with them were destroyed.

But the lights were on, everywhere, and the noises! It sounded like something exploded somewhere, and the ship felt like it was... shrinking. And the thought of fighting all the hundreds or thousands of clockwork bugs they had seen made the heroes’ stomachs shrink. The three moved as quickly as they could back towards the main deck, and they went only a hundred feet before encountering a marching line of scores of the copper horrors. But the bugs ignored them, so rather than attacking them and perhaps drawing attention, the three characters simply beat feet.

On the deck, all was chaos. It was all kinds of foggy, but clearly the water level had risen significantly relative to the deck in just the few moments since the rod was plugged in. The ship was sinking. And let’s not forget about the bugs, swarming all over! And what blew up, anyway? But hey, at times like this, what’s an adventurer to do? Outnumbered thousands to three, with drowning coming up soon- and boy, won’t that huge, huge, ship make some kind of whirlpool or something when it goes down?- Horbin cast _water walk_ on everyone he could find. And _water breathing_. Sith cast _fly_ so he didn’t even need to worry about it. 

As they left the ship, they could feel a strange warmth at their backs. There were strange hissing and popping noises behind them. 

_I wonder if I’ll ever know what that was all about,_ Horbin thinks._*

***

The water, lowered by Alcar’s spell, drains away to reveal what the steelship that Horbin rode so long ago has become. Gleaming metal tubes and plates twist together to form a huge city of steel, chrome and copper. There are no buildings; it is all a building. Thin avenues filled with marching copper horrors performing menial tasks have been revealed by the _control water’s_ effects. Strange protrusions like stubby towers dot the upper surface of the place. Grills, chimneys and hatches are all over. Clockwork horrors swarm like bugs everywhere, many of them adapted to somewhat different forms. _The mark of Belmondo,_ thinks Alcar grimly. He remembers all too well how, years ago during the first major incursion of the horrors, Master Control arranged for Belmondo the Enhanced to be captured and kept inside a great clockwork horror as big an immensely large dragon. Master Control mined Belmondo’s brain for inspiration, and only a daring rescue operation freed the dwarven prostheticist.  

And yet, can Master Control and his clockwork horrors be expecting them? It scarcely seems possible- but as soon as our heroes arrive, swarms of horrors so small that they are barely visible to the naked eye begin to attack immediately. Dozens of clockwork horrors begin firing spring-loaded darts or rays of lethal energy at our heroes. 

Who, let us recall, are far from helpless. 

Baron Lillamere _shape changes_ into a gigantic red dragon and incinerates hundreds of clockwork horrors in a single blast of white-hot flame. Unfortunately, he singes Sybele’s legs (she has already flown close in to the surface of the immense metal construction). She yelps in pain and shoots him a telepathic dirty look. Gerontius, Wankerman and Chakar all fly down to the surface of the underwater city of horrors to enter melee combat immediately, while Blazier destroys another several score horrors with a well-placed _fireball._ Alcar takes a deep breath and joins in the area destruction action with a maximized empowered _flame strike_. He, too, catches Sybele in the corner with it! “God dammit!” she cries. 

“Sorry, don’t worry,” _I’ll _heal_ you in a minute,_ Alcar says, switching between speech and telepathy mid-sentence. 

_They knew that we were coming somehow,_ Lillamere opines over the link. _Master Control must have some kind of device on us or something. Maybe something tiny, like those swarms he uses._

Meanwhile, Sybele is beset by many horrors. They are starting to try to climb over her and drag her down, so she gives a mighty shake, throwing them off of her, and then leaps about 25’ away with a mighty jump! 

Most of the horrors- the copper and silver ones, anyway- are fleeing into the interior of the city via various ducts and hatches, but a few gold ones are emerging instead to engage the party. Lillamere stops that with a _wall of force._

But all this is distraction. Sybele is doing the real work.

Belmondo is shielded from magical or psionic divination or location. Our heroes have already attempted to find him with spells. Now another approach is required. Sybele is a warrior of Chaos; she has been changed by its touch, in many ways. The most obvious, of course, is her size (she stands over 7’ high). More subtly, but in this case infinitely more useful, is the Chaos change in her nose. For her sense of smell is highly developed- as good, likely, as a shark’s.

Sybele puts her head next to a wide duct leading straight down into the metal intestines of the metal structure below them and takes a huge _sniff._

_I smell dwarf!_ she announces. Without any hesitation, she leaps down into the duct. Alcar flaps after her a moment later, delivering his promised _heal_ spell.

Lightning and rays of worse energies crackle at our heroes from some of the stubby towers nearby. The smell of ozone fills the air. The adventurers dodge through the air and duck behind cover on the ground. Meanwhile, Blaze picks off the gold horrors that try to get around Lillamere’s _wall of force_.

Lillamere himself uses his _shape change_ in what might be the most effective way he possibly could, given the setting. 

He turns into a rust monster.

***

_*Hell*_

Glaisig, the Hidden Minister, raises his glass. The red liquid within the crystal gleams in the light of the hellfire lamps burning the souls of the damned. 

“To the demons,” he chuckles.

There is an ironic fivefold rumble from the end of the table. Tiamat wheezes laughter from her white head.

An entire wall of Lucifer’s ancient palace works as a scrying device. At the present, it shows a terrifying battle between demons and devils raging across the Fourth Hell. The devils are pressing deep into the Hells, and the diabolic legions- mighty as they are- are in disarray, between the recent loss of Asmodeus and Bel and the great defeat in the War of Ethics. 

Glaisig takes a deep drink from his cup. His eyes narrow as he watches a mighty pit fiend torn asunder by a mightier goristro demon. The legions of Hell are maintaining their front, and reinforcements are mustering, but they can only stay the huge horde of demons for so long. 

It would seem logical that the cabal at the head of the Nine Hells would take this news with dismay. And yet they do not. Indeed, _only_ the victory of Chaos- the demon hordes- over most of the Hells can ensure Lucifer’s forthcoming transcendence. 

***

“First of all, thank you all for responding to my ad. I know it is unusual for someone asking for a simple messenger to insist that he or she be weapons-trained and ready to fight if need be, but the message that I would have you all carry might anger some. It might frighten others. It might well provoke men to fighting, or to running away. You need to be prepared for that, just in case.

“Some of you may have heard of me before. I hope so, anyway, because it will make what I’m about to tell you easier to believe. First of all, I’d like to establish my credentials. I’d like whichever of you thinks you’re a competent or better swordsman to attack me- all at once. Strike to kill. I promise that I won’t hurt you; I’ll be gentle. But I want to show you that I mean what I say when I say that I’m the foremost swordsman of my age. Come on! What’s wrong? Don’t you think I mean it? Hold on, you- two of you aren’t enough. _All of you._ Look, you’ve all already received a handful of gold; here. This is enough that I’ve paid you all 100 gold without you having to do anything. Now attack me! 

“Good! Nice blow, but not good enough! Hah! You see? Took me all of three seconds to get you _all_ beaten down. Anyone seen anything like that before?

“Now then: I want you all to be my heralds. You have seen my skill at arms, let me tell you a little more. _I have battled against Emperor Prayzose.... and he is dead._ I will be the Emperor now.

“You all are to spread the word, everywhere you go. Let those you encounter hear my name: *Emperor Thrush.* Let them all know that I will rule justly and fairly, with wise advisors and an ear to the church- but _I will rule._ There are already powerful people who support me, and I already have a new High Priest in mind. Yes, sir, this is going to be a successful reign! 

“Spread the word, boys! _Thrush is the new Emperor!_”

_*Next Time:*_ Deep into the horror city in search of Belmondo!


*As originally told here.


----------



## Nightbreeze (Jan 5, 2008)

Huh...since when Trush is capable of such monologues?


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot (Jan 6, 2008)

Craft Impressive Monologue, it's an epic feat!


----------



## Knightfall (Jan 6, 2008)

An excellent start to this thread. J, I expect you to keep me enthralled.

No pressure.


----------



## the Jester (Jan 10, 2008)

Normally the twisted metal city-island-ship of the clockwork horrors lurks beneath the waves, deep under the sea. But now it is exposed, the water level lowered enough to reveal its surface, teeming with artificial ants that swarm over it everywhere. Strange blisters and protrusions on its surface hide strange, mechanical devices, weapons and sensors and other, less comprehensible things. Towers, fins and other, less definable things poke out at crazy angles from the strange isle’s skin. 

The place/device/craft is vast, full of labyrinthine passages that shift, seal and flood at the command of Master Control, that enemy of our heroes that is composed of pure information. It commands the horrors here, using the same strange powers of radiomancy that enabled the Miloxi Empire to rule over tremendous areas in the distant past of Cydra. The horrors hear its silent commands by some strange machine equivalent of telepathy. In addition to their physical shells, the horrors exist on an _informational_ plane, totally and strangely different from any other realm that our heroes have ever encountered.*

The clockwork horrors all move with the same purpose. With machine efficiency, the weaker horrors- copper, silver and electrum- retreat into the bowels of their  great ship. They know that the threat to the place is beyond them; they will be wasted against the force striking at them. 

The stronger horrors are emerging from within, swarming towards the small band of mighty, mighty adventurers that are attacking their home. Our heroes. Strange, specialized clockwork weapons move rapidly towards the assault point. They close in very quickly.

But not quickly enough. 

Baron Lillamere, the mightiest sorcerer on Cydra, lashes all around him with his tentacles. His mighty spells have allowed him to take on the form and powers of a rust monster. He is deadly in this form, so deadly to the horrors and their island; but he knows that, if he remains in any one place long, he invites a concentration of withering firepower against himself. 

He’s not interested in that. He’s interested in rescuing Belmondo.

Following Sybele’s nose, he flies down the passage at breakneck speed. The party falls in, gradually following, but many of them make quick stops to destroy the closest horrors that are hot on their collective tail. 

The horrors can’t keep up with our heroes at first, but they have other tricks. Master Control floods the passages our heroes are in with gas, but our heroes cannot be stopped or contained so easily. They _disintegrate_ or smash their way through any barriers, moving swiftly through twisting, shifting passages. 

At last, Alcar bashes down a particularly sturdy barrier, and a wide, short passageway is revealed. Along each side, as well as at the end, there are small alcoves. Several of these hold creatures: an ogre, a needleman, two humans- and Belmondo! They are immobile, held reclining on strange boards bristling with wires and tubes, many of which join with the creatures on the boards. All four of the creatures have metal... things... that appear to have been implanted into their bodies, from Belmondo’s second arm to the axe and hammer that replace one of the humans’ hands. 

“Uh-oh,” says JJ.

Bahgerah agrees, “I smell trouble.”

The figures stand and step out of the alcoves. 

“We’re here to rescue you, dwarf, and all of your friends!” Sybele cries.**

The five figures attack. Their eyes are glazed and unblinking. _They are controlled,_ thinks Alcar. _And it won’t be magic- this is Master Control’s strange powers at work._

Horrors behind, these four clockwork servitors ahead of them, our heroes attack, but not as ruthlessly as they could. Chakar tries to wrestle the ogre, and almost immediately takes him down to the ground, keeping its neck locked between his powerful dwarven legs. Chakar remains calm and balanced the entire time. He is the very picture of self-discipline. The clockwork ogre struggles against him, but to no avail. Meanwhile, Wankerman and the axe-and-hammer fellow begin to face off, while the other human begins casting fairly impressive spells, such as _chain lightning_, at the party.

It takes a lot more than _fairly impressive_ to slow down our heroes, however. Only their awkward attempts at being merciful to these poor captives of the horrors extend the fight more than a few seconds. 

***

_Belmondo is trapped in his own mind. 

Or so Master Control thinks. 

He has been locked in his body, helpless and unable to control himself, for months. Master Control has taken over his physical form. Bitterly, Belmondo realizes how his greatest foe managed it. Decades ago, during Belmondo and his party’s final attack on the clockwork horrors, he had confronted Master Control on an informational plane, using informational weapons that the strange intelligent armor Adam had given him. Yet during his exchange of informational blows, Master Control had managed to slip a dormant command into Belmondo’s head.*** Years later, horrors appeared at Belmondo’s Lighthouse, and the command was triggered. Master Control took him captive, and has been using him ever since.

But Belmondo has been exercising his mind as much as possible, stretching it and strengthening it, refining his ability to hear radio and reaching out to his _useful tool._****

That is what his hopes revolve around: _Belmondo’s useful tool._ A minor artifact, psionic, able to shape itself into any kind of tool at Belmondo’s direction. And it is on his person.

Belmondo has detected that the plug in the base of his skull is crucial to Master Control’s ability to maintain its grip on him. And now, as all hell breaks loose and some people that he recognizes as friends burst in, he makes his move. _

***

On the material plane, _Belmondo’s useful tool_ begins to try to extract the plug that controls Belmondo’s brain.

***

_Belmondo winces as he jabs himself in the head on the physical plane. He doesn’t care; if he can extract that damned plug, he might be able to get free in the confusion. 

Though he does not control his body, he can see through his own physical eyes. _No!_ Belmondo thinks, as he sees himself approach his old friend Alcar, ready to attack with whatever fiendish machinery Master Control has implanted in him. He can feel the _useful tool_ working desperately at the base of his skull. 

From his physical ears, Belmondo hears his old friend say, “I’m sorry, Belmondo- but I will bring you back, free.” Then there is a series of terrific blows to the head, culminating in_

***

Alcar grabs his friend’s body and shouts, “Let’s go! I have who we came for!” 

“Let’s bring them all!” insists Sybele. Wankerman nods. Quickly, the bigger, stronger members of the party grab the bodies of the servitors while the others hold off the horrors moving in on them.

Then the party blasts and then _superior teleports_ out, back to Brelana. 

Success.

_*Next Time:*_ So... what happened to Inoke, anyway?


*This was discovered by a group of heroes including Belmondo, the infamous tabaxi Hobbes, Malford the Magnificent and Lester discovered decades ago. Of them all, only Belmondo had the comprehension to face Master Control on such a plane, and that was only with the aid of a mysterious suit of armor that was intelligent, magical, psionic _and_ technological. Called “Adam,” this suit had apparently survived from a previous multiverse where it had been worn by a mighty hero calling himself “Iron Dwarf”. 

**Due to the touch of Chaos, Sybele cannot remember anyone’s name.

***The aforementioned series of adventures, which were the culmination of 2nd edition Cydra, were awesome. During the last game of the series, when Belmondo and MC duked it out on the informational plane, Belmondo failed a saving throw. There was no obvious effect.... _until now._ Yes, I planned an escape route for MC in case the pcs beat it back then... which they did. 

****Belmondo gained the ability to hear radio years ago, during a previous period of captivity by Master Control.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman (Jan 10, 2008)

Fantastic stuff - really enjoying the long term results of some fiendish planning on your part.



> On the material plane, _Belmondo’s useful tool begins to try to extract the plug that controls Belmondo’s brain._



_

Spotted one error, though. Hope you don't mind me pointing it out._


----------



## the Jester (Jan 11, 2008)

Tallarn said:
			
		

> Spotted one error, though. Hope you don't mind me pointing it out.




Oooh, good catch! Thanks, fixed it!


----------



## the Jester (Jan 14, 2008)

The Outer Planes are a lot like a wheel. 

Think of them as stretching infinitely, yet having edges. Sometimes they are sharp; sometimes, more blurry. Either way, these bounded infinities bump up against one another. The planes of the afterlife, of morals and ethics made into physical (and metaphysical) reality, they always border the planes, morally, most like themselves. Thus, the plane our heroes would call the Abyss, which is evil and chaos personified, is bordered by planes slightly less evil (Pandemonium) and slightly less chaotic (Tartarus). Continue to follow the wheel around past Pandemonium and you reach a plane of pure chaos- Limbo- while, in the other direction, pass Tarterus and you come to the plane of pure evil, the Three Glooms of Hades. 

All of this is an oversimplification, of course; there are more planes than these, and even more _outer_ planes than these. But for purposes of our illustration, this simple model will serve. 

Wheels are for turning.

Imagine, then, that the Great Wheel- the Outer Planes of existence- spins around its center point, the plane of absolute neutrality, of opposites reconciled or balanced. It is almost as if the Great Wheel is balanced above a single point, as if it rests upon a tall, thin spire, and its motion is all that keeps it balanced above that single point. It is akin to a baker spinning out the dough for a thin, round shell, on which he might slather tomato sauce, cheese and various cuts of meat and vegetable, on the end of his arm, held well above his head. 

But what if one side of the wheel suddenly gained a great deal of weight? And the other side lost as much, or even broke free entirely?

A pizza man might whistle while he works, but does the multiverse?

***

_*9/18/371 O.L.G.*_

It has been a week since the rescue of Belmondo. Our heroes have spent most of that time has been spent relaxing for the first time in what feels like forever.

Now it’s time for a party.

Sure, they have already had several victory celebrations- but this one will be a full-one, all-out, come-who-may party. They will invite everyone they know- everyone they like, and even many that they don’t.

Yep. Time for a party.

The party is held on Sigil (the center point on which the wheel spins, if you don’t mind continuing that metaphor for a moment), in a huge bar given over to the party for the occasion by the Xaositechts, a faction of Chaos-happy folk allied to our heroes (JJ, Blazier and Wankerman are all members of the faction, in fact- or at least, as much as anyone is a “member” of a “faction” that is all about Chaos). 

The party is, ahem, quite good. 

Not everyone comes, but there is a very impressive turnout. Early on, a mild-looking man who doesn’t seem at all dangerous (think of him as looking like a 40 year old Paul Simon)* enters with his entourage. This, of course, is Dzaram, the Lich of Forinthia, a _very_ formidable fellow. His “entourage”- more properly, his _cabal_- consists of a foul-looking fellow dressed in robes that squirm with rats and vermin, his undead vulture on his shoulder; a githyanki knight armed with a terrible-looking silver greatsword, whose armor is missing much of the midsection because of the slavering mouth full of gnashing orichalcum teeth that, eerily, fills up much of where a normal man’s stomach would be; a yellow-skinned, forlorn-looking man with a lute on his back; and a charmingly-innocent looking 13 year old girl. 

Our heroes welcome them, a little nervously. Dzaram and his cabal are old... acquaintances. Not friends, certainly; not enemies, quite. Not allies, although sometimes allied. 

And certainly, potentially, allies or enemies. 

Thus, they were invited. And thus, they have come. Dzaram, as always, is polite but reserved. Alcar approaches and greets him. The rest of the cabal begins filtering into the room after a moment, once they are certain that there won’t be any trouble. Alcar and Dzaram begin speaking in a corner.

“I need your help,” the angel says to the lich. “Master Control is spying on us somehow, and it can’t be with magic. It can track us across planes, too, even when we’re all _mind blanked._ I think it must have planted some kind of device on us, but something we can’t detect.” He takes a deep breath. “I think it’s something small- extremely small. Master Control has swarms of clockwork horrors that you can barely see because they are so small. What if it has planted some kind of device on us that is too small for us to see, and that’s how it tracks us?”

Dzaram nods thoughtfully.

“And I know,” Alcar continues over the noise of the party- there are a bunch of the Xaositechts there, already, and some of their friends, as well as the party themselves- “that you have some experience with the Microverse.”

Dzaram nods again. “Yes. I can probably help you, if your theory about how Master Control is tracking you is correct.”

“Good,” Alcar replies.

“But not for free,” the lich goes on. “You know that the government of Forinthia pays me half a million gold pieces each year. Your friend Thrush wishes to be Emperor. I can help you, but you must ensure that he continues those payments.”

“I can repay you with a service,” Alcar offers.

“I have named my price.” Dzaram shrugs. “Let me know at your leisure, of course.”

Meanwhile, the doors swing open and two young figures arrive. Our heroes recognize them instantly: Little Alex and his young sister. Little Alex is native to the Sigil, the strange city in which our heroes are partying. He is the tout that the party has always used when in town, and they have always rewarded him well.

But they are practically kids, and the party didn’t invite them...

Chakar intercepts them. “Little Alex!” he exclaims. “Is anything wrong?”

“No,” Little Alex replies, sounding puzzled. “I heard there was a party here.”

“Really? From where?”

“Oh, word is all over the streets,” the tout replies. He looks a little nervous. “You, uh, don’t mind that we came, do ya?”

There’s a loud “Oooohhh” from the crowd, as the first drink is spilled on a table. 

Chakar considers for a second, then shrugs. “I guess not. Just don’t get into any trouble.”

Little Alex beams. “Thanks, Guvnor!” he exclaims. Grinning, he and his sister rush into the tavern’s common room. Almost immediately, they are intercepted by Blaze, who is already pretty drunk, and who starts hitting on Alex’s sister. 

Music fills the air. Zazou, the Yellow Bard who follows Dzaram, plays his lute; other partygoers add drums, a flute and soon cymbals. The blaze of the fireplace is cheery. The smoke of the pipe weed rises in great blue clouds throughout the chamber. 

Meanwhile, Sybele and Wankerman sit together on a large table, drinking heavily. Gerontius floats gently in the air at eye level with them. They are watching as more and more people come in- people of all stripes. They see JJ setting up his _portable den of immortal sin,_ or the _Den of Froth_, as he is taking to calling it, and starts taking partygoers within for acts of unspeakable debauchery and horrid perversity. Delilah takes her 13-year-old body in and subjects it to the worst kinds of infamies, much to the demislaad’s delight.

“That’s gross,” comments Wankerman. “I don’t see the appeal in, in Froth’s kind of stuff.”

“Necrophilia,” Sybele fills in the blank for him. 

He makes a face, but then brightens. “Hey, look!” He points across the room. A female human figure is grinning as she makes her way towards them. “Is that Seethe?”

Indeed- another old friend come calling. Seethe, the druid who traveled with the party for a time, speaks gravely of a ‘middle path’- for she wishes to be a Keeper of the Balance. If it is not too late. Being immune to poison, alcohol has no effect on her, but she hangs out and parties with them. Many of them didn’t even know that she was a woman, given her _thousand faces_ ability, but they all learn tonight. And, other than the aforementioned Seethe, the party is getting drunk enough to be called dronk. 

Then the doors fly open, and a balor steps inside, holding some kind of arcane-looking apparatus, basically rod-like in aspect, but made of a translucent red-orange material and holding some kind of liquid. Several different metal bits thrust from the shaft at various points. 

Our heroes tense up. A balor is a mighty demon, and could be a very dangerous threat. But when it rumbles, “I hear there’s a party here. I brought a bong,” everyone relaxes. 

Could this party go by without any trouble?

Sir Maxwell Norrington shows up, too: another old party member. He tenses at the sight of the balor, for he is a knight of the chalice, dedicated to driving fiends from Cydra- but he is not on Cydra. This _is_ where the demon belongs- at least broadly, being on the Outer Planes, if not specifically on the Abyss. And he isn’t going to start a fight while under a flag of truce...

Still, Maxwell, sadly, doesn’t stay long. 

“Wow,” Blaze says, his arm thrown about his sweetie of the moment, “this is a good party!” 

“Would you like to try this?” the balor offers JJ a tube attached to his apparatus. 

“Sure!” JJ says. He takes a large puff of- something- that the balor puts into one of the metal doodads sticking off the shaft of his strange bong. Then the balor blasts the bowl with flame, igniting it.

Sybele purses her lips. “I wonder what happened to what’s his name, big club guy, you know, the traitor.” She asks JJ, “How is that?”

“Wow,” the demislaad moans, “it’s great!” 

“Inoke,” Gerontius nods. “Me too.” He frowns. _And it couldn’t have been as simple as him just betraying us. He was my good friend for years._

Sybele takes a long pull from the balor’s bong. So does Gerontius.

“Hmm,” Wankerman muses, “what the hell _did_ happen to him? The last we knew, he was at the fight between Galador and Vandreu...”

***

_*Two Weeks Earlier*_

 “We don’t want to destroy you,” Chakar cried to Prayzose. “Don’t fight us!” 

“I said the same thing to you,” Prayzose replied, 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 shook his head sadly. “No. The time for talk is over.”

The battle roared to a new height. Alcar threw himself against the God-Emperor and managed to land a few blows. “Surrender!” the angel cried. “Don’t make us kill you!”

“No,” Prayzose answered. In an instant, a _burning ray_ flashed 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 began weaving immensely powerful magic, and a _gate_ to Heaven opened.

Light brighter than anything our heroes had ever seen before exploded through the _gate._

“MY LORD!!” cried 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, stepped forth from the _gate_.

Galador had arrived. 

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, had moved to engage Tiamat. The Queen of Evil Dragons snapped at him from her many mouths; she breathed fire, acid, cold, lightning, toxic gas at him. He growled and _expanded_ to a height of 25’, swinging his mace against her with deadly effect. Her tail stinger whipped forward, but he parried it. He struck her white head with his mace with telling force, and she shook that head. It was momentarily stunned- but not so the rest of her! Her black head spat another stream of acid at him, while the red head bit down into his right arm! Inoke grimaced and slammed his fist into her eye, freeing his hand, and battered at her again with his mace, bloodying the red head’s nose. The two of them glared at each other. 

Meanwhile, the party rushed Prayzose, striking with all their might. Finally, Prayzose staggered- and fell! Our heroes cheered! Alcar immediately attempted a _soul bind_ on Prayzose, to no avail. 

“This is a short term solution, but it might help!” Baron Lillamere cried. He _disintegrated_ Prayzose’s remains. 

“That’s not really going to slow Galador down, I don’t think!” criec Chakar. For once, he did not sound entirely calm and composed. His blows and attempts to grapple Galador simply slid off him like water off of a duck. 

The party poured it on, but they did not even seem to be hurting Galador at all. _Uh oh,_ thought Lester, _we may have finally bitten off more than we can chew!_ His eyes widened as he saw Tiamat _plane shift_ away from Inoke. The big warrior turned to face our heroes. A profound look of regret was on his face. 

“I don’t want to fight you!” he cried.

“You should have thought about that before!” shouted Thrush. 

Galador drew forth a mace and struck a single, mighty blow to Graz’zt, snapping the demon prince’s neck, and the black-skinned form collapsed. Quickly, it boiled away into a greasy smear, which in turn caught fire and burned to nothing in the blazing light of Galador. 

“Uh oh,” JJ said. “Uh, I don’t know if-“

Galador struck again. Lillamere was crushed in a single mighty blow, collapsing in a bloody pile on the ground. Then he cleaved onto Gerontius, nearly taking the rogue out too! “Please stop!” cried the rogue. 

“All right, it’s time!” Alcar cried. He spread his arms wide and cast a _gate_ of his own. “BLESS, MY GOD! WHATEVER YOU CAN DO, NOW IS THE TIME!!”

From the _gate,_ another figure emerged, silhouetted in the refulgent brilliance. He strode forward tall and grim. In his right hand he bore a sword so black that even the illumination of Galador cannot light it up. Strapped to his left arm was a shield of equal blackness.

“Galador, I am Vandreu,” the newcomer called. “Your time is at an end. I am here to finish you.” 

The two gods moved together. There was an explosion of divine power, of light and energy, unequaled by anything that our heroes have ever seen. 

Inoke rushed forward. 

“Inoke, no!” cried Gerontius.

Ignoring his old friend, the warmind smashed his mace at Vandreu. But the mighty deity raised up his black shield, catching the blow, and Inoke’s mace exploded with brutal force. The bones in his arms shivered and nearly shattered. He screamed in pain and fell back on the ground.

“This is not your fight,” Vandreu told him. “Not anymore.” With that, he swung his blade at Galador. The God of Forinthia, the Lord, the Light, stepped away and fired a blast of staggering divine power at Vandreu. He took the blazing beam square in the chest and thrust forward again. Galador’s armor of light shivered as the black blade hit it, and the light seemed, impossibly, to increase for a second as it shattered under the power of the blade.

Vandreu’s voice echoed through all of our heroes’ heads. _You should leave. This situation is about to become... explosive._

Inoke, meanwhile, struggled back to his feet and psionically healed himself as best he could. Then, realizing that he had no weapon to fight with, and glancing around at the situation, he gave a small sigh of despair and activated his _boots of teleportation,_ vanishing into the null time displacement of the _greater anticipate teleports_ running throughout the area.

He reappeared on several hundred feet away from the Bastion’s ruin. To him, it looked as though the battlefield had suddenly grown much larger and more devastated, and as if the dueling gods had each teleported some distance away. 

Galador’s shield was broken. Vandreu’s was fine. As Inoke watched, Galador fired an immensely powerful divine blast at Vandreu, but that accursed black shield caught the blast full on- and stopped it as if it had been no more than a ray of normal sunlight. 

“My Lord!” cried Inoke. “I can’t affect him! Send me to the best god to aid you and I will try to summon help!”

But Inoke, as powerful as he is, was beneath the notice of these titans as they clashed. They had no attention to spare for him. Helplessly, he looked around to survey the scene.

The Bastion of Law was barely recognizable. It was blasted, half-melted, seared by the power of the gods battling here. Immense energies were being wielded, tossed around without restraint. The air thundered with deafening noise. In the distance, Inoke could see the eternal battle playing out, but while it had always- _always_- been a stalemate before, now it was a route. The forces of Chaos were encircling the last heroic warriors defending Law, and soon would annihilate them. 

Inoke staggered away, his arm still throbbing, towards the slag of the Bastion, and from there...

Who knew?

_But I’m alive,_ he thought. _That’s something... isn’t it?_

He trudged past the fallen citadel of order. His arm hurt badly. He was weaponless. 

_My mind is a weapon,_ he reminded himself. 

After a few miles, he halted as a _gate_ appeared before him. An angel stepped forth. “Inoke,” it intoned. 

Inoke fell to his knees before the angel. “I failed,” he choked.

He felt the warm touch of the angel’s hand on his shoulder. “We all failed,” it sighed. 

Inoke looked up at the angel. Its halo hovered over its head. “Come,” it told him. “Come with me to Heaven. 

“Come rest.”

Inoke rose unsteadily. Holding his hand, the angel led him through the gate.

_*Next Time:*_ So... what _does_ that balor’s bong have in it?


*The singer, not the politician.


----------



## Knightfall (Jan 19, 2008)

Rest in peace, Inoke.


----------



## the Jester (Jan 20, 2008)

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> Rest in peace, Inoke.




Gosh, you make it sound like he died or something. 

Bodily ascension... _may be_ different from death.

In, at least, one or two aspects.


----------



## Knightfall (Jan 21, 2008)

the Jester said:
			
		

> Gosh, you make it sound like he died or something.
> 
> Bodily ascension... _may be_ different from death.
> 
> In, at least, one or two aspects.



Hmm, I hadn't thought of it that way. So, maybe we'll be reading more about him, at some point? Or is the character _officially_ retired, at this point?


----------



## the Jester (Jan 28, 2008)

*Dealing with the Devil*

Whatever the balor is smoking, it is very potent. First waves of euphoria, then a gentle buzz for a good hour.

Followed by a nasty come down, with a terrible temper and a callous, reckless malevolence attached.

For a time, Sybele, JJ and Gerontius all see the merits of the Abyssal point of view. Hell, they have championed Chaos long enough, like it or not; and they have all reveled in destroying their enemies, in slaying, slaying, slaying, up to their elbows in blood. Sybele grins rapaciously as she leans back in her withdrawal-induced state, thinking of just how many slaves will attend her once she is the Empress of Forinthia. Anything she wants, she will take. She will kill anyone who defies her will. And really, who could stand against her and her friends? Even if someone was powerful enough, the party is clever enough to deceive them, blind them with sugared words, and then, when they least expect it, in a very painful way- snap! The trap would come shut, and whoever _dared_ to defy her would be slowly flayed alive, fed their own steaming intestines, served their own children as the wages of sin for their foolish intransigence! 

She chortles, full of malicious glee.

JJ has a great time with the possessed, living body of Delilah in the _den of Froth._ Unspeakable horrors are inflicted on the poor thing; but neither JJ, nor Delilah herself, much care. To the demislaad, it is just a measure of his sudden and very strong devotion to Froth; to the undead conjuress, it is just another amusement in just another body of hers. 

It’s not like she doesn’t have dozens of spares, of all shapes and descriptions, all races, sexes and ages. 

But to despoil young, virgin flesh in such a torrid way- ah! It’s really quite touching to her. She remembers giving herself to Bleak so long ago, before she was undead at all. Back in her own body. In those few living days she had before centuries of unlife. 

Gerontius just keeps partying, though he is more inclined to pick a pocket here and there for fun. Of course, he is all too aware that nobody here is a worthy target; no one has treasure worth stealing to someone as powerful as him. He sneers disdainfully. 

But the drink, and the drugs, and the partying- ah! Now _those_ are as good as ever. Sigil is a universal crossroads. All things worth having (all those not worth having, too, frankly) come through the City of Doors- and all the things worth drinking, smoking or snorting have come to the Chaos Party.

Payton, the hunter of the dead that assisted the party in their battles against the demilich Acererak and his Tomb of Horrors, arrives. Sybele and he spend a good hour together, talking smack about the undead, including those in the party. But even Payton doesn’t pick a fight. 

All in all, the party is smashing. 

***

In a dark corner, Alcar sneaks off for a meeting. He slips out of the party unseen and hurries along for a short distance before turning down a dark alley to await the other half of the meeting.

Who, it turns out, is already there, lurking. He seems to materialize from the shadows in the alleyway, tall, crimson-skinned, dangerous-looking. A whiff of tasteful cologne comes off the tall, devilish figure.

“You wished to speak?” Glaisig inquires politely.

“Yes,” Alcar nods. He hesitates for a second, then plunges on ahead. “I would like to have a meeting regarding some of my concerns. We know of certain powerful entities that are profoundly bad for our home plane- the Bile Lords and the Queen of Guts.”

Glaisig cocks his head. 

“You know of whom I speak, then?” The angel lets his words hang in the air for a moment before forging on. “They will destroy all that is within their reach. They will kill all the humans whose souls you prey on, or pollute them into bile monsters. Surely, the loss of such a potential hunting ground as Pesh would be a terrible blow to you.”

“It is of little consequence to us, actually,” Glaisig sniffs. “Your vision is still so small, Alcar. I am disappointed.”

“Your help would be of considerable use to us,” Alcar urges. “I am willing to make a deal. You help me, and I will help you. I have some information you may be interested in.”

“Really. Information. How droll.” Glaisig smirks. “And what is it you seek in return? Surely, you do not expect us to _adventure_ with you?”

“Perhaps information for information,” Alcar retorts. The meeting doesn’t feel as in his control as he had hoped it would. “It is difficult, at best, to teleport within Bile Mountain, at least the upper levels. But we also have reason to believe that there are connections to the plane of Shadow within it. If you could help us find... _hidden ways_... that we could take to get deep inside without having to fight our way through the whole place, that would help a great deal.”

“And exactly what is it that you think you know that we do not?” The scorn in Glaisig’s voice makes Alcar blush. But he does have information, gleaned in Sigil, which he expects that the devils will want.

“For one thing,” Alcar says, “demons are making serious inroads into the Hells. They’re going much deeper than they ever have before, at least in any recorded histories that I have seen. Your master may have taken the Hells, but it seems that he will be lucky to hold on to them.” Alcar’s eyes flash. “Unless we help him.” Dangling the prospect of more than just information.

Glaisig throws back his head and laughs. “Oh, you will have to do better than that!” he chortles. “Yes, we know all about the demonic invasions. You need not concern yourself. _Everything is going exactly according to plan._” Alcar is startled at how visible the devil’s emotions suddenly are. Even Glaisig, the Hidden Minister, cannot help but allow some of the gloating to come out into his voice.

The angel, for once, is rendered silent for a moment. Glaisig’s apparent knowledge- and condoning!- of the demonic attack is unnerving. _I thought he might know,_ the angel reflects, _but I never expected him to encourage the demonic invasion. There is something more going on here, something huge... but what?_

Smiling, with Alcar at a disadvantage, Glaisig continues, “If you want our help with your Bile Lords... you will need to do something that I want.”

“What is it?” Alcar demands. 

“I want you to kill someone.”

“I don’t know about that,” Alcar starts, but Glaisig continues smoothly.

“He is from another plane entirely, a parallel prime called Thydra. He is the mayor of a town called Lantinum.”

Alcar hesitates for a long moment. _To defeat the Bile Lords..._ he thinks. Finally, after the moment stretches into almost a minute, he asks, “What is the nature of this man’s character?”

“Oh, he’s no holy man, if that’s what you mean,” Glaisig answers. “He’s a petty tyrant of his town. Nobody to be proud of. After all, if his soul is going to end up in our hands, he couldn’t have been a very ‘Good’ person, could he?”

Alcar can’t argue with that. _If he’s evil, then it’s okay,_ he rationalizes. 

“All right,” he says.

The Hidden Minister gives the Angel of Lost Causes a tuning fork of the proper material and note to take him to Thydra. They shake hands to close the deal. Glaisig’s face is composed again; no emotions show on it, nor do they reflect in his scarlet eyes. 

“One more thing,” Alcar growls while their hands are clasped. 

Glaisig cocks an eyebrow. 

“I don’t like you, or your master. I’m only working with you because we need your help. Don’t try to cross us, or to mess with our people. Or you know what will happen.” 

Glaisig smiles. “Why, Alcar, we wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, obviously lying- and obviously intentionally making it obvious. “But do not worry.” His voice returns to its warm neutrality. “We have no imminent designs on you and yours. We can wait.”

“There are other threats, too,” Alcar declares. “Beyond the Bile Lords. The Angels of the Apocalypse. One of them was once a god. You are old- very old. So are they.”

Glaisig remains smugly silent. 

“I’ll be in touch,” the angel snarls. 

“Of course you will.”

***

When a cute little halfling wench rolls into the party, she and Gerontius are quickly all over each other. Things get rather heated, but when the rest of the party starts egging him on over the _telepathic bond,_ it spoils the mood. Gerontius leaves her hot and wanting more; maybe they will meet again some time. Some time, that is, when his damn friends are asleep or dead. 

He smirks evilly and goes to seek out Delilah the Damned. When he finally finds her, emerging in the ravaged shell of the body that she is wearing, he inquires about an old job offer she once made to him. Unfortunately, said opportunity has fled; but she promises to keep him in mind in the future. 

Meanwhile, Arion the Archmage has arrived at the party, already stinking drunk, and he obliterates a wall and replaces it with a permanent _wall of force_ in the first fifteen minutes that he is there. The place’s owners look a little beleaguered, but when several of the partygoers toss in obscene amounts of money (compared to the owner’s normal annual income), he shuts right up about it. Alcar- back from one deal making session in time to make another, this time with Dzaram- uses a _miracle_ to ape a _quicksober_ on the archmage. Of course, it won’t last, but at least for a few minutes, Arion won’t be causing any trouble.

The party keeps going all night.

_*Next Time:*_ The party makes a quick trip to Thydra!


----------



## Alcar (Feb 6, 2008)

*Thydra*

We should be playing our pick up/no core game on thydra, or I'm packing 8 earthquakes for the next epic game... I probably pack 8 earthquakes anyway.


----------



## jensun (Feb 6, 2008)

Given how hard the party has become I always wondered why you didnt simply level Bile Mountain from the outside.  You could then gank the survivors as they clawed their way out of the wreckage and then did through the rubble for the loot.


----------



## the Jester (Feb 7, 2008)

The balor Bol smiles a slow, languid smile and takes another pull from his bong. The acrid tang of the strange chemical mixture that he is smoking causes even his black lungs to momentarily spasm. He is glad to have been able to share the bounty that he has created; this party has been full of individuals (and even groups) willing to try his little concoction out. Potential future customers, perhaps? 

Who knows? Who cares? Bol is just glad to be high, partying and on the winning side. 

Chaos.

Like all demons, Bol is a remorseless engine of destruction, with not a single redeeming quality. He is utter evil mixed with pure chaos to yield the destructive impulse made manifest. Yet even he, a balor, can see the value in celebrating. Gloating over foes; ensuring that others know of the might of one’s self and allies; despoiling the defeated, and crushing their spirits. Yes, this party- like all victory parties- serves its purpose in the furthering of the powers of Chaos and Evil. 

Bol takes another drink.

***

Finally, the party ends, and our heroes seek sleep (albeit Gerontius first seeks the gentle bosom- and other warm parts- of a halfling planar adventurer named Claudia Peachtree). In the morning, they return to Cydra, and then Alcar takes a few of the others to another plane on a quick mission.

Thydra, to all appearances, is a pastoral land of sheep and farms, shepherds and farmers. The town Alcar is seeking- Lantinum- is easily found, about a mile away. The party moves in quickly, scattering the peasants like fallen leaves in a tornado. The mayor doesn’t even put up a fight worth mentioning and is incinerated in a single _fire storm_ from Alcar. The angel is disturbed to see no signs of tyranny, and in fact, the townsfolk seem shocked and mournful when they realize what has happened. 

“Are you sure that this was a good idea?” Sybele asks.

***

The next day, Dzaram and his cabal come for a visit. Alcar and the others have gathered for a preliminary, precautionary buff-up before their guests arrive in case anything gets rowdy, but despite a few tense verbal exchanges, everything stays friendly. Friendlyish. Friendly enough, anyway.

_Why did you ask him here, anyway?_ asks Blaze nervously over the permanent _telepathic bond_ that the party shares. 

_Because he might be able to help us stop Master Control from tracking us,_ the angel replies.

Indeed, Dzaram first ascertains that the party has “hundreds” of microscopic tracking devices on them, and then casts another spell to destroy them all. Afterwards, the party and the lich’s cabal talk for a while, with our heroes informing Dzaram and his cronies, “We’re party animals, you know... if anything exciting is ever going on, let us know!”

“Indeed,” Dzaram nods, cocking an eyebrow. “I shall.”

***

Alcar makes a point to declare his new faith at every opportunity. The party has a lot of irons in the fire: Master Control, the Bile Lords, the Angels of the Apocalypse- and, lest they forget, there are still Chaos Worms about: they hear rumors of them not far from Var.

“I thought we closed the portals nearest to Var,” remarks Wankerman.

“Yes, but zey are Chaos portals. Perhaps zey move, or more ‘ave opened,” Gerontius replies.

“We have something more important to worry about first,” declares Alcar. “Dekrasode’s horde.”

***

Finding the horde, with the resources that our heroes are able to deploy, is a speed bump. The guardian of it- a strange beast that Alcar manages to identify as a zeugalak (whatever that is- though it seems, naturally, electrically oriented)- is as nothing to the party; after all, they killed Dekrasode himself. His lackeys and servants can’t hold a candle to him. 

The horde contains over a million coins, including nearly 100,000 gold pieces and 7,377 platinum. In addition, there are 112 gems, a tapestry, a turquoise dragon sculpture, a silver ring with a flawless sapphire set into it, a cask of extraordinary wine, an ornate scepter (worth about 35,000 gp all by itself), a whole wardrobe of formal, high-value clothing, and a small wealth in magic and psionic items (including some strange candies called _life savers_ that apparently make the eater impossible to kill for a few short moments).

***

Afternoon. The day after the party, still. Alcar is very busy. 

He goes to see Belmondo, the dwarven prostheticist that the party recognized from the underwater island of horrors. He asks his old friend for all the information he can provide. What are the horrors’ weaknesses? None. Was Belmondo involved in the structural design of the underwater complex? Oh, no, it is very old- older than any dwarf’s life. What about the missiles? What about this? What about that?

The frustrating truth of it is, Belmondo knows very little that will aid the party against Master Control.

“Well,” Alcar sighs, “this is twice, now, that Master Control has kidnapped you. We can’t let that happen again. We’re going to the castle, to see Malford, to get you some protection.”

“Belmondo doesn’t need protection!” the dwarf protests, but Alcar cuts him off.

“Yes you do. Master Control has taken you twice. This time, I had to kill you to save you. I won’t risk Master Control getting ahold of you again.”

Belmondo stares hard at his old friend for a moment, and then deflates. “You’re right,” he admits. “Belmondo is too valuable to the enemy to let them have him.”

First, Alcar summons a _greater planar ally_: some kind of celestial swordsman that he’s never seen before (much to his surprise!). But some quick bargaining, and he trades 25 days of bodyguarding Belmondo for a pledge to erect a magnificent statue of Bless triumphing over an adversary. 

“I know just who to put as the enemy,” Alcar nods. _Galador._

***

The next day the angel sets about commissioning a great temple, with a huge statue of Bless triumphing over Galador out front. He allocates 126,000 gp to it, with almost half being for the statue. 

***

Another sunrise. Alcar issues a bunch of _sendings_, starting with Dzaram.

_I invite you to join myself, Wankerman and Gerontius for breakfast. Would like to discuss future affairs. Bring the crew._

Dzaram’s reply is quick: _I am in the middle of something delicate. I’ll contact you in a few days._

Alcar swears under his breath, then shrugs. He sends a similar message to Mabrack, who replies, _Okay, where are you?_ Alcar curses; of course he didn’t think to say in the first _sending._ Another missive reveals the answer to the storm giant’s question: the Three Rubies.

Then Alcar _sends_ to Glaisig, _Me and you need to talk. Interests, common, needs apparent, wisdom will bring you to the table.”

The devil’s response: I can meet you on the 28th for ten minutes at noon. Will that suffice?

Cursing again, Alcar issues another sending: I guess it will have to, if that’s how much you care. Your master might be interested as well. Hextor.

The reply, again, is almost instantaneous. Splendid. See you then.

“Bastard,” growls Alcar aloud. 

***

Meanwhile, Gerontius takes a step that he has been thinking about for a long time: he buys a house in Var. It has a nice fireplace and a grand yard. He is quite pleased with it. 

“Not bad,” Wankerman nods. 

Gerontius glances at the sky. “It’s almost time to meet Alcar for breakfast,” he remarks. 

“You think he’s done sending out the invitations?”

“Who cares? I am ‘ungry!” 

Grinning, the two make their way towards the Three Rubies.

***

Alcar continues sending out his sendings. To Arion the Archmage: This is Alcar. Three Rubies. Breakfast, on me. I entreat you to come discuss future affairs.

Breakfast sounds great, comes the reply, but don’t talk too loud, I have a headache.

“He’s drunk or hung over,” Alcar mutters to himself. He is not surprised, but he is a little disappointed.

To Seethe, the party’s old druid friend: This is Alcar, I invite you for breakfast at the Three Rubies in Var, please come.

Seethe’s reply is short and to the point: Okay, see you soon.

To Marius the Enigmatic, one of the super-simulacra of Marius, Alcar sends, Look to the future. Me and you need to talk. Breakfast, Three Rubies, Var. I bet I’m looking farther ahead.

Another discouraging, yet not entirely hopeless, reply: I am willing to meet you, but only on my terms, where the advantage is mine. I will contact you.

To the Delphin: We’ve never met before, I think now is the time. This is Alcar, please meet me for breakfast at Three. Alcar runs out of words, and the answer is swift.

Three is no time for breakfast, and my schedule is busy. What do you wish to meet about? 

Out of sendings, Alcar begins creating more via miracle. He replies to the Delphin: Sorry, interrupted, Three Rubies, Var, future threats need discussion amongst people of power. Imminent danger, please come.

I will send a representative.

Alcar grins. That’s more than I expected, he thinks. 

Another miracle turned to a sending goes out, this one to Thrush: We need to talk. This is Alcar. Three Rubies, Var, future importance. Breakfast.

Okay, can’t do breakfast, but I’ll be there for dinner.

Alcar takes a quick break from sending out invitations to breakfast in order to shatter the gem to which Lord Alyth is soul bound, and then to attempt a true resurrection. But Alyth does not accept the opportunity to return to life. Perhaps, his ethos defeated, he would prefer to stay in the perfect order of his afterlife.

***

*9/21/371 O.L.G., 10 a.m., the Clockwork Nirvana of Mechanus*

Mechanus is a plane of giant gears and wheels and cogs, all interconnected. It is the plane of perfect order, of organization, of numbers and math and perfect cycles. The adventuring party calling itself the Blue Band (led by the charismatic wizard named Balephyl) has come here on a great adventure, succeeded beyond their wildest dreams (little dreaming that their adventures would happen as all of Law was distracted by the climactic battle of the Great War of Ethics), and subsequently rested, waiting for the great gear that they are on to turn back towards the portal that they are going to use to flee home, to the Prime Material Plane. 

Except for one small snag: the portal is in use- by a long, long line of modrons.

Modrons are strange creatures, almost constructs, that come in weird geometric shapes. They are one of the dominant, yet very alien, forms of life on Nirvana. And if there is one thing that Balephyl is sure, absolutely sure of, it is that this huge force of modrons should not be here.

At least, not for another several hundred years.

“I just don’t get it,” he grumbles.

“What?” asks his companion Pandin, a gnomish ranger. 

“Them. This. They shouldn’t be here, not yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“The modrons. This is where their great march around the outer planes starts. They do it every couple thousand years, like clockwork.”

“And?”

“It isn’t due for another two and a half centuries!” Balephyl shakes his head. “Modrons are Law incarnate, Pandin. If they are off-schedule, something big is happening.”

Big like the cosmic victory of Chaos over Law- or something else?

***

At the bottom of the Multiverse, great lenses focus running waves of negative energy, churned by the destruction of Acererak’s phylactery of the apotheosis, into higher and higher levels of agitation. They ripple through the void like the thrill of a murder. The Void Masters rejoice as undead after undead is birthed and destroyed, sucked into the great Naught that they are creating. 

Somewhere above a craggy landscape on a silver backdrop, a pool of cold black ebony shudders and begins expanding. Then, slowly, bent by the cosmic weight of the Naught, it starts to deform, becoming concave as the center of it recedes through the silver void and the edges bulge out towards the stony landscape, threatening to engulf it. Jagged spears of negative energy lance out like bolts of lightning.

***

After an unsatisfactory exchange with Seclaidra and an attempt to contact the ethros called Zsadly the Sadist, Alcar leans back in his chair, stretches, and prepares for breakfast. He nods to Wankerman and Gerontius as they walk in.

“We’ll see who is coming,” Alcar declares, “but let’s start with a heroes’ feast.”

Breakfast begins.

*Next Time:* Breakfast at the Three Rubies! JJ is named in a will! Gerontius gets a letter! And more!_


----------



## Mathew_Freeman (Feb 7, 2008)

> 9/21/371 O.L.G., 10 a.m., the Clockwork Nirvana of Mechanus
> 
> Mechanus is a plane of giant gears and wheels and cogs, all interconnected. It is the plane of perfect order, of organization, of numbers and math and perfect cycles. The adventuring party calling itself the Blue Band (led by the charismatic wizard named Balephyl) has come here on a great adventure, succeeded beyond their wildest dreams (little dreaming that their adventures would happen as all of Law was distracted by the climactic battle of the Great War of Ethics), and subsequently rested, waiting for the great gear that they are on to turn back towards the portal that they are going to use to flee home, to the Prime Material Plane.
> 
> ...




Now, having played the original module I know the original answer to why the Modrons are marching. Can't wait to find out if you're sticking with the same reason!

I'm really enjoying the manoeuvring and jockying for position at the moment. Seems the party (and players) are having to face some quite different challenges now.


----------



## the Jester (Feb 7, 2008)

Tallarn said:
			
		

> Now, having played the original module I know the original answer to why the Modrons are marching. Can't wait to find out if you're sticking with the same reason!




I've never played or read it, actually.


----------



## Knightfall (Feb 12, 2008)

Excellent updates, J!

Can't wait to read what happens next.


----------



## Alcar (Feb 21, 2008)

*Bump!*

Do your homework jester...BUMP


----------



## Angel of Adventure (Feb 22, 2008)

*I cast . . .*

Epic Summon Epic Story Hour Epic Bump!

(waits . . .)

Casting times vary . . .

Did I word that correctly???


----------



## hippiejediz (Feb 27, 2008)

Word.


----------



## Alcar (Feb 27, 2008)

*Bump*

Dearly beloved,

We gathered here today to today to celebrate this thing we call..BUMP

Electric word BUMP, that means forever, and that's a mighty long time.

But i'm here to tell ya, there is something else, the afterBUMP.

A place of neverending hapiness, you can always see the BUMP.. day or night.

So before you go see that shrink in Davis, California, yeah you know the one.

BUMP BUMP..BUMP BUMP... let's get EPIC, let's get BUMP.


It ain't easy think up crap like this at 10 am... BUMP dam it.


----------



## Seance (Mar 5, 2008)

Come on Jester, BUMP man, BUMP!!


----------



## Alcar (Mar 13, 2008)

*Bump*

B..U..M..P, that spells BUMP, did the jester forget how? or is the jester waiting, like a snail stalking a bacon bit?


----------



## the Jester (Mar 13, 2008)

The Jester is merely spending his writing time on epic game prep. 

For, you know, _Beyond Bile Mountain._

For those of you _not_ in my game, enjoy the player-no-lookee thread, where I'll go post something exciting now.


----------



## the Jester (Mar 21, 2008)

Mabrack, Seethe (the old druid ally of our heroes), Arion the Archmage and a man calling himself “Andy”, who comes as the representative of the Delphin, trickle in over about an hour. Once he’s convinced nobody else is coming, Alcar adds a second _heroes’ feast_ atop the first. 

Then he gives them a speech. 

It comes from the heart. He is bitterly disappointed that more of the folk he tried to invite did not come. But nonetheless, with those present, he knows that he must try to get his message across. 

He begins, “I’ve brought you together to talk about a threat the universe, or maybe even to the multiverse... Hextor. Most of you probably already know of him...” Alcar fills in what the party knows of Hextor: an unkillable god with no weaknesses, an angel of the apocalypse serving the dark entity that destroyed the _previous_ multiverse. 

Alcar’s message is simple and grim: _He must be stopped. And who else is there? We must step up. We are the powerful. We have the responsibility._

“Certainly, I will take your concerns back to the Delphin with all haste,” Andy says laconically. 

“The Delphinate could be of great help to us,” Alcar replies. 

“Of course, but it is not my decision to make. I will convey your message.”

“Of course,” Alcar mutters, nonplussed.

“So where is this Hextor now?” Mabrack asks.

“We don’t really know.”

The giant frowns. “I have a lot of my own concerns to take care of,” he sighs. “I don’t really have time to be adventuring with you guys right now.”

“This is very important. We’re talking about the fate of the world here.”

“Alcar, there’s _always_ a danger to the world _somewhere._ You and the rest of your party like to spend all of your time seeking them out and doing something about them, and I applaud that- but I have other things to do, and I’ve already neglected them to attack the Bastion with you. Besides, you guys can handle yourselves. Frankly, you don’t need me.” He shakes his head. “Sorry, but I can’t help you every time you go on an adventure, and that is what you’re starting to ask for.”

“I’ll see what we can do to help against this ‘Hextor’,” Seethe promises. “I’ll be in touch. I’ll brief the Grand Druid for you, and believe me, we’ll take action. An entity like this is not something that we will let stand. The balance must be maintained.”

After they are gone, Alcar, Gerontius and Wankerman share a round of drinks. Wankerman grins at the enormous mug that the proprietor has had commissioned for the larger members of the party to use. It’s big enough for a fifteen-foot tall man, that’s for sure. He belches happily and lets his fingers play across the _rod of the Dark Emperor_ at his belt. _Strogass,_ he thinks. _My lands. I’ll take them just as Thrush takes the Forinthian Empire, and together we can usher in a new age! Then again, I might get bored with ruling pretty quickly, depending on how amusing it is._

***

Even as Wankerman contemplates his future, not far off as the wizard teleports, in Brelana, Baron Lillamere’s capitol, there is a knock on the door to the office of Jibber Junior.

JJ, who is conferring with Baron Lillamere about where to put the temple he plans to build to Froth, glances up at the door. “Yes?” 

The door opens, and a page enters. “My lord!” he gasps, and bows hastily at Lillamere.

The baron smiles kindly at the page. 

“What is it?” JJ asks.

“Oh! A-a visitor, my lord. A centaur. For you,” he hastily adds, tearing his gaze for a moment from Baron Lillamere and onto JJ.

“I don’t know any centaurs. Send him in!”

The page, still staring at Lillamere, scurries out. A moment later, a figure trots in.

JJ instantly recognizes the page’s mistake. It is no centaur; instead, it is a bariaur, a planar creature of similar appearance to a centaur. However, its animal portions are ram like rather than horse like. It looks at JJ and asks, “Jibber Junior?”

“That’s me!” JJ admits. “Who are you?”

“I am Onnokolko,” the bariaur states. “I have a letter for you.” With that, he pulls out a sealed envelope and hands it to the demislaad. 

JJ examines the envelope. There are no obvious danger signs; the seal is intact. He tears it open, pulls out the paper within and reads it. 

“What is it?” Lillamere inquires, after a moment.

“It’s from a law office on Acheron,” JJ chortles. “I’m in someone’s will!”

“Whose will?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never heard of them!” He looks at the letter again. “It says that their name was ‘Nazar-Nagulin’... hey, wait, I’ve heard of him! He was a bladeling warrior of Chaos! So you mean he’s dead?”

The bariaur shrugs. “I’m just the messenger. Will you be sending a reply? I’ll carry it back to the senders for only 1000 gold.”

“Yes,” Lillamere says, drawing out his purse and pulling out coins. 

“Yeah, I’ll come,” JJ tells the bariaur. He grins. “It sounds like fun.”

***

The city of Var is vibrant where there is new growth, but there are still many old, abandoned, unrepaired sections. Areas like this have never been reclaimed since the coming of the _first_ Angel of the Apocalypse to visit Cydra, Fuligin. Areas such as this are ripe for adventure for brave young souls just beginning a career in the adventuring paths. Dire rats abound. 

Not much of a challenge for Bahgerah. 

But then, the tabaxi isn’t there for a challenge. He’s there on a mission- on his perpetual mission, looking for radiomantic relics of the ancient Miloxi Empire. He knows that Var has seen a great deal of attention over the years from both Master Control and the clockwork horrors. He knows that God-King Malford and his adventuring companions have stormed many ancient Miloxi ruins. He knows that the tabaxi Hobbes, who is famed for having actually recovered a Mary unit, has spent years of time in the city. 

It seems as likely a place as any to look. 

Or rather, to _smell._ 

Bahgerah’s nostrils flare as he walks through the burned-out, abandoned area. If he is near it, he can _smell radiation._ He will find it, if it is here to be found. So far, though, there is nothing.

Then his keen ears pick up something. Something big and loud, crashing around inside one of the empty buildings that still stands. Bahgerah, curious as a cat, pads over to investigate. 

The front door of the building seems to explode off the hinges, and a very distinct aroma hits the tabaxi’s nose with sudden intensity. _Radiation,_ thinks Bahgerah, as two large golems smash their way out of the building. _Radiocrystal golems!_ he recognizes. Then he shakes his head. _They look like bearded elves!_ He is shocked: they _should_ look more like tabaxi. After all, when had anyone other than the Miloxi Empire mastered the secrets of radiocrystal and radiomancy? He pulls his flaming rapier free of its scabbard, but immediately missteps badly and stabs himself in the leg. 

Then they pummel at him, and when the first blow lands, he realizes that these golems are more different from what he had expected than- well, than he had expected. A nauseous sensation ripples through him when the great crystalline fist connects.*

_This is not good news,_ Bahgerah realizes. 

He turns on his heel and runs.

_*Next Time:*_ Gerontius gets a letter, Lillamere gets an architectural proposal and Blaze gets a family!

*These things came with vile damage.


----------



## the Jester (Mar 21, 2008)

“My lord?”

Baron Lillamere looks up from the sheaf of papers spread out across his desk. “Yes?” he asks the page. He stretches, realizing that he’s been sitting in practically the same position all morning. _Paperwork,_ he thinks ruefully.

The page says, “There is a dwarf here to see you, my lord. He says that he’s here with a proposal for you. Something about a monument?”

Intrigued, Baron Lillamere replies, “Send him in.” _Sure, I have plenty to keep me busy... but this will break the monotony._ 

A few moments later, the page returns, ushering the dwarf in. Immediately Lillamere’s visitor sketches an awkward bow. “Uh, hello, Baron, I’m Nadler Stonecutter. I asked to see you because I have a proposal for you.”

Lillamere cocks an eyebrow. 

Tucked under his arm, the dwarf carries a roll of vellum and parchment sheets. He pulls them out, unties the string holding them closed and begins to spread the drawings out in front of the baron. “I am a very skillful builder and architect,” he begins, “and I have conceived of a... a monument of such scale that it- well, it can only be described as audacious.” He continues, describing the epic project that he has in mind: carving an entire mountain to form a massive head of Lillamere, looking out over his domain. It would measure over 1000’ high, take 20 years to complete and require about 100,000 gold pieces per year in funding.

“Why me?” Baron Lillamere asks. “Wouldn’t you rather build something like this for another dwarf?”

“Of course,” Nadler shrugs. “But it’s an issue of funding, as much as anything.”

Lillamere nods. “It’s an interesting idea, and one I’m half-inclined to accept,” he admits. “I’ll have to look at it, and of course, I’ll need to see an example of your work. There is much that needs doing around Brelana.”

“Of course.” Nadler hesitates for a moment, then asks, “You understand that I will need to be boarded and maintained while I perform any initial tasks.”

The baron nods. He draws forth a fat purse and hands it to the dwarf. “This should take care of any immediate needs.”

Nadler nods, impressed.

Lillamere summons another page and orders her to show the dwarf around the town. “I’ll check in with you in the next week sometime,” he tells him. “Until then, just make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.”

_Hey Lillamere,_ Gerontius’ voice comes over the telepathic link the party shares, just as the dwarf leaves the office.

_Yes?_

_How do you scry? I just bought a scroll of _sending_ because I need to check up on something, but I’ve never really done it before._

_Oh, no problem. First, grab a beer._

***

Backtrack a few hours. 

After lunch, Gerontius buys a house in Var. Then he takes a quick trip down to the office of the post, where he registers for mail- only to find that there is a letter there for him already. 

“Interesting,” he remarks wryly.

The envelope smells pleasant; it carries a faint aroma of vanilla and almonds. Intrigued, the halfling adventurer opens it up and reads: 

_Dearest Gerontius, 

Hello! You do not know me yet, so first let me introduce myself to you. I am called Thyleera Bakeswell. I am one of the halflings of Valonia that you have been so kind as to help out of late. 

Oh Gerontius, I have seen you in our town, rallying our people, trying to convince them to flee the orcs, yet I know that you don’t really want that. Zenvo Dalais, the halfling leader who you have spoken to amongst us, is reluctant to say anything, but I know the truth. You worry about us; you care about us. You are so mighty, so powerful, and you have so many concerns in the world, you fear that you might not be able to help us in time. I understand, but many of my people do not. They refuse to leave. 

Dearest Gerontius, I hope that they have not angered you. If they have, I hope that you can see beyond your anger and let your strong mind and will guide you. There are those of us that do wish to leave. My parents and my young niece would like to go wherever you offer them sanctuary. As for myself, I would rather go wherever you are. I want to be with you. I will cook each meal for you, ensuring that you eat properly. I will clean for you, and make sure that you are not bothered by the unworthy. Oh Gerontius, I long to feel you in my arms! You are the savior of our people, and I know that you will conquer the orcs for us. Let me help you. Every strong man needs a wife to sooth his cares at the end of a long, hard day. I will be that wife. I will never hold you back, or make demands. Simply let me bask in the glory that is Gerontius!

I love you with all my heart.

I await you in Shire Mere, on the east coast of Valonia._

“Very interesting indeed,” he murmurs.

It could be a trap of some kind, of course; but Gerontius doesn’t think so. He hasn’t got many (living) enemies, unless you count that corrupt barrister from his very early days, or that rich silk merchant on Pesh that Gerontius once humiliated and stole over 25,000 gp from, or anything that’s alive that he’s killed that he doesn’t know about. Or that fellow whose daughter he helped run away years ago. But _none_ of them would be anywhere near his power now.

_Well, better safe than sorry,_ he thinks. 

He purchases a scroll of _scrying_ and then gets some quick coaching from Lillamere on how to do it. Then he buys some beer and takes it home, where he uses it as a surface to do a seat-of-his-pants _scrying._

Gerontius isn’t a spellcaster, but over the course of his many adventures, he has used many magical devices and has become quite skilled at triggering even those that he shouldn’t have the knowledge to use. Thus, he soon discerns a happy-looking, beautiful young halfling maiden, clapping and cheering at some sort of halfling event. He watches her for a few minutes, but all she is doing is watching- something. 

_Maybe I should go visit her,_ he thinks. _I wonder how long it would take me to get there._

***

Blazier, meanwhile, has no qualms about using his powers to live the easy life. He has found a well-off, happy family with a big house, charmed them all, and moved himself in. Between his spells, his natural ability to smooth talk, and his reputation, he easily convinces them to keep his presence a secret, and that he is being hunted by an enemy. In return for his efforts, Blaze gets good, home-cooked food; a nice, thick feather bed; someone to mend the tears in his clothing and gear; and a place to be where nobody knows to find him. It’s an ideal situation.

Once he’s well-established in his chosen household, he turns _invisible_ and _dimension doors_ out into the city, where he flies around and looks things over. He spends some time chatting with JJ over the link- the two of them, along with Wankerman, share the distinction of being Xaositechts- mostly about Froth, and the temple to him that JJ is going to build. JJ also mentions that he’s going to Acheron, because he was named in a will.

_Oh yeah? One of your friends die?_ asks Blazier.

_No, I didn’t know the guy. That’s really why I’m going._

_Interesting. Well, I’d be happy to come along with you and check it out. I don’t know, though- going to a law office? It could be a trap._

_Maybe._ JJ gives the mental equivalent of a shrug.

_I see your point,_ admits Blaze. 

After JJ and he finish their conversation, Blaze takes another lazy circuit over Var. This time, though, he sees something more interesting. _Hey, anyone in Var,_ he announces telepathically over the link, _something’s up. I can see a couple of weird golem looking things up ahead. Hey, they’re chasing that tabaxi that we met!_

_I already know,_ Gerontius replies. _Ten Buck Tom sent me an alert. Wankerman and I are on our way._

***

Chakar, meanwhile, has gone to Khelm for a major wrestling tournament. Khelm is a colorful place, and the city-state of Amrosalia, where Chakar is, is known as a haven to the arts. There are statues and sculptures throughout the city, as well as murals and other public works of art. It is a remarkable place, and Chakar is glad to see it. 

His first opponent is a young Peshan human named Nalshieth. He is quick and shows great natural talent, but Chakar is a master. He quickly pins Nalshieth once. When he moves in on his second attempt, however, the wily Peshan dodges over and behind Chakar, and for a moment gets a hold on him from the rear! 

But Chakar’s skills are far beyond the young human’s. He hooks a foot around Nalshieth’s ankle and brings him down, twisting free of his grip as he does so. Suddenly Chakar has his second pin. 

“It was an honor,” Nalshieth states as he rises, bowing.

Chakar returns his bow. “You fought well. You have much natural talent.”

“Thank you.” 

Chakar’s second match is against Grugo the Legs, so called for his classical Khelmite style of leg-based wrestling. Chakar has never seen this style before; it is very interesting, but not sufficient to prevent the first pin.

“You are Chakar Clanguard,” the Legs says. “I have heard of you. I respect what I have heard, and am glad for the chance to test myself against you and learn from you by seeing your techniques.”

Grugo the Legs leaps up and forward, trying to lock his legs around Chakar. The dwarf uses his momentum against himself, and hurls him down to the side. But Grugo recovers quickly, shooting a leg out at Chakar’s knees. The dwarf leaps up and over the leg, but he is still in the air when Grugo scissors his legs together, catching Chakar in a leg lock!

Quickly, Grugo tries to slam Chakar down, going for the pin, but Chakar throws his weight to one side and pushes with a hand on the inside of one of Grugo’s knees. He tumbles free. “Now I will show you my rainbow strike!” 

They continue dancing for another few moments. Chakar darts in and gets his hands around Grugo’s legs, but Grugo performs his signature leg break and gets free. 

Chakar slips a leg up and around Grugo and flips him down to the ground, hard. Then, before the Legs can recover from the momentary disorientation, Chakar pinks him. 

That is the final match of the day for Chakar. Glad to have succeeded, he retires to meditate. 

***

Blaze, Wankerman, Gerontius and Bahgerah, together, make short work of the radiocrystal golems. Other members of the party are on alert, ready to teleport in if necessary- but they don’t have to. Then the four party members present debate what to do with all the radiocrystal. In the end, they forget about it in favor of going to the Halls of Healing to see Horbin about healing the vile damage that the golems dealt. 

“So where did those come from?” Horbin asks. “We certainly don’t need that kind of stuff going on in Var!”

“I was just sniffing around,” Bahgerah says, “and they came out of an abandoned building!”

“Hmm.” Wankerman scratches his chin. “Well, put ‘investigate that building’ on our to-do list.”

The others nod. 

_*Next Time:*_ The rest of Chakar’s tournament! Blaze sneaks around! Cannibals!!


----------



## the Jester (Apr 14, 2008)

Party Roster:

*Blazier*, gnome sorcerer 19, metamagician 2; CN
*Chakar*, dwarf monk 25/perfect master 2; LN
*Bahgerah*, tabaxi rogue 4/ranger 18/Miloxi restorer 6; CN
*Sybele*, fighter 8/warrior of Chaos 5/psion 18; CG
*Jibber Junior*, half-slaad wilder 12/anarchic initiate 8/warrior prince 3; CG
*Baron Lillamere*, sorcerer 21/argent savant 5/eldritch liege 3; CG
*Alcar*, half-celestial elf fighter 2/cleric 25; NG
*Gerontius*, halfling rogue 19/invisible blade 5/fighter 4/halfling paragon 3; CG

And, of course, the two npcs in the party:

*Emperor Thrush*, human fighter 30 29 (didn't have his character sheet in front of me when I initially posted, whoops!); N
*Emperor Wankerman*, human fighter 19/chaotician 5; CG


----------



## jensun (Apr 14, 2008)

I am curious about how you manage a party with such a wide variety of levels. 

I know that things get very wonky when you hit epic but you have a 10 level difference there for some of the characters.


----------



## the Jester (Apr 14, 2008)

*Brelana, Var*

Baron Lillamere of House Drelvin looks up as one of his messengers enters his study. His hands keep working without pause, the quill gripped in his long fingers never hesitating. “Yes?” he asks.

“Beg your pardon, m’lord, but- well- I think there’s someone here you should talk to.”

“Oh?” the baron inquires, his eyebrow arching.

“Aye.” The lad, only recently sworn to service before Lillamere, licks his lips nervously. He has seen enough to have an inkling of the mountain-shattering powers that his lord can bring to bear... but he is new enough in Lillamere’s service not to know how he responds to uncomfortable news.

“Go on,” Lillamere says with a smile. It’s just the right tone, the right gesture, to put the young man at ease. Such is the power of the eldritch liege’s charisma that he could evoke nearly any reaction he wanted from someone with a few words and an expression.

The messenger begins to speak more freely. “He’s a whaler, m’lord, from a ship that plies... _plied_ the western seas. He says his ship was destroyed. The poor wretched fool washed up near the coast and immediately worked his way upriver, to you.”

“A whaler,” Lillamere exclaimed in dismay.* “What destroyed his ship?”

“He says,” the young man answers, “cannibals.”

Lillamere shifts his gaze to the large regional map on the wall. Brelana, of course, is on the continent of Dorhaus, the westernmost portion of the local region of Cydra. Further west, a large array of isles is marked as the “Cannibal Isles,” but to the best of Lillamere’s knowledge, that part of the map is a vague assumption. Clearly, at least some of the information on it holds some truth, but- how much?

Still, the map shows a lot of islands. Enough that, if they were a single land mass, they would be as large as Dorhaus.

“Show him in,” commands Baron Lillamere.

A few moments later, a wretched-looking man in threadbare clothes that are nearly as much patch as original clothing comes in, escorted by the messenger. Baron Lillamere greets the man very graciously and sends orders for new clothes to be provided for him. Then Lillamere asks for the man’s story.

The whaler tells the tail of how he was sailing on his ship in the waters several hundred miles west of Dorhaus, in the open sea, looking for prey. (Lillamere’s face remains neutral.) But then, a group of cannibals came out of the sea, overtook their vessel, took several prisoners for food and set the whaler alight. They were much further east than they had ever been encountered before- and in unusually great numbers, too. As the survivors managed to break away from the cannibals, their ship burned around them until finally they had to jump into the waters to save themselves from burning with it. Clinging to driftwood, the terrified sailors that yet lived watched as a huge concentration of cannibals emerged from the glittering miles of sea ahead. Slowly more and more became visible, until they filled the sea for as far as the whalers could see.

“Fortunately, a powerful current stole me away in the night, before they overtook us. I am sure they consumed the others.” The whaler shudders. “There were far more of them than I had ever seen, and they were much further east than I’d ever seen, either. They’re coming this way.”

Baron Lillamere nods decisively. “Thank you. First of all, I appreciate your bringing this to me. Second of all, I’d like to offer you a job. You’ll make much more money than you did killing whales, and you’ll be doing much better work.” _But one way or another, you are done whaling._

***

Blaze is poking around where he probably shouldn’t, but he isn’t too worried about it. He is invisible and nearly undetectable, and you only get in trouble if you’re caught.

He’s poking around Malford’s castle. 

But, despite his precautions, he is caught very quickly- by some kind of fey creature. It’s invisible too, but it seems to be aware of him- _somehow_- and it’s aware of it when he tries to pull off a concealed _charm person_ on one of the gate guards. It warns him off, and after a few more frustrating attempts to sneak past it, Blazier finally retreats, telling himself that it’s time for breakfast anyway.

And breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It’s when the party assembles to discuss their next move, fuel up on food and power up with those spells that last all day. 

By the time he reaches the Three Rubies, which has gotten quite rich on our heroes’ patronage alone, Blaze has worked up quite an appetite. Fortunately, the Three Rubies has an excellent chef, and breakfast smells like all that he could have expected. Gerontius, Alcar and Chakar are already there, chatting about some tournament that the monk is in. Blaze joins them and begins to eat from the trays of breakfast before them, but before he can much, a few adventurer groupies have come in and join them. Moments later, Sybele and “Emperor” Thrush walk in, chattering about political crap.

By the time Blaze is on his second helping of eggs, pretty much everyone is there: Bahgerah, Sybele, Thrush, Blaze, Lillamere, Chakar, JJ, Alcar, Gerontius and Wankerman. There is some general small talk for a while, and then the party gets to discussing what is on their collective plate. 

There are empires to build, of course, both Forinthian (under Thrush) and Strogassian (under Wankerman). Baron Lillamere suggests that the cannibals may be an imminent threat. Bile Mountain is still waiting for our heroes’ full attention. There are the Angels of the Apocalypse to contend with, at some point. The party still does not know the outcome of the battle between Galador and Vandreu (Lillamere attempts to scry Vandreu as a lark, but to no avail). JJ points out that he might have something coming to him in a will. Master Control...

Alcar approaches Thrush about granting Gorel its independence. 

“No way!” Thrush exclaims. “I’m sorry, Alcar, but right now I’m trying to rally all the influence and power I can to make my bid to take over a reality. I have to show that I will be strong. I can’t afford to let anything go. But back me, and I’ll give your people as much autonomy as I can.”

“No,” Alcar retorts. “That’s not good enough. Forinthia needs to give up Gorel. We can fight you if we need to.”

“Neither of us wants that,” Thrush says. “Look, I am not in a position to do anything about it yet anyway. Help me get there, and then we’ll see what we can do. You’re an elf- be patient! Give me time to consolidate my power, and I’ll do everything I can for your people.”

Neither of them is fully satisfied. Ah, politics. 

***

When the party finally comes to a consensus, Acheron is first, to find out what JJ gets from the will. Meanwhile, Chakar leaves to continue fighting in his tournament.

The Law Offices of Blizzake and Mandrake is a rusty metal shack on a massive cube floating through the space of the strange battleground plane. Blizzake is a green abishai and Mandrake is a barbazu, but they seem to be focused on their duties as executors of the will rather than on our heroes’ role in overthrowing Law throughout the cosmos. Though they are nervous about dealing with devils, the party does so- Alcar even going so far as to shake Blizzake’s hand.

Nazar-Nagulin was the name of the individual that bequeathed something unto JJ in his will. The devils gladly hand over the will and indicate the section pertaining to JJ.

The demislaad reads: _“To Jibber Junior, a fine-sounding demislaad, I leave my magic boots, along with the obligation to retrieve them from the thrice-damned chaos abomination that stole them from me. It dwells somewhere on the astral plane, and along with the obligation, I give you the means. Go get it, boy! And best of luck. Don’t let it steal your stuff, it’s tricky!”_

JJ feels a powerful _geas_ try to settle on him, but thankfully, he got _mind blanked_ over breakfast. “Hey!” he exclaims, glaring at the two diabolic attorneys. “That’s not very nice!”

Quizzically, Blizzake asks, “What?”

“Never mind,” JJ answers. _It must have been in the will itself,_ he thinks. Then he sends to the rest of the party over the telepathic link that binds them together. _There’s nothing for us here. It’s another quest. We already have several._

***

Chakar’s next foe is a half-elven woman named Haya File. He bests her with almost no effort at all. _Grugo the Legs was much better,_ he thinks. _I must be careful not to become overconfident. To some degree, the skill of my opponent is a matter of luck. The first rounds were paired randomly, and the victor advances each round. It is possible that I could meet a worthy opponent at any stage of the tournament._

Chakar meditates between bouts. Soon enough it is the final bout- Chakar against a Valonian orc named Greth Boneblade. The audience is very rowdy; they have been watching fights all day, and are very much ready for a good finale. 

They get what they want. 

Greth roars and screams profanity at Chakar before the match starts. “I’ll eat your c**k!” the orc roars. “Take your strength! RROARRRGHH!!!!”

The fight is brutal. Greth is not as good of a fighter as Chakar, but he is strong and committed. Chakar turns his strength against him and gets him in a lock he cannot escape to score the first point of the match. But then Greth rushes in with startling speed and digs his steely fingers into Chakar’s neck, dragging him down and pinning him. They battle long and hard, twisting back and forth, until finally Chakar loops an arm around Greth’s neck. He begins to squeeze the breath out of the orc, but Greth slams his entire body down onto the ground on the dwarf. Chakar lets out a great _Whooof!!_, and the Boneblade orc is upon him-

Pinning him.

The crowd roars as the orc roars triumphantly. Chakar rises and bows to the orc. “Well fought,” he says. 

The orc grins. “You, too!” it says in a surprisingly civilized voice. The two shake hands, and then Chakar leaves the tourney grounds, reflecting on racial tolerance.

*Next Time:* Our heroes left (at least) one thing off of their list- Chaos Worms!


*Note that in Cydra, the average whale has an intelligence score of 16. They are sentient, and “sages of the seas,” yet many creatures still hunt them for food and/or resources. (Locathah are similarly hunted imc.) The ethics of hunting sentient creatures is an interesting subtext that Cydra has explored, or at least touched upon, on a couple of occasions (including this one; we had some OOC chatter about the legal and ethical status of whaling in Cydra between bursts of roleplaying in this encounter).


----------



## the Jester (Apr 14, 2008)

Diverse encounters with multiple adversaries is a big piece of the equation. 

I also try to look very carefully at monster abilities with an eye towards how tough they make the monster for the best and least suited pc to fight it. Sometimes it's ok if an encounter is "impossible" for a given pc, as long as they can contribute to the battle in other ways (buffing, etc).



			
				jensun said:
			
		

> I am curious about how you manage a party with such a wide variety of levels.
> 
> I know that things get very wonky when you hit epic but you have a 10 level difference there for some of the characters.


----------



## Knightfall (Apr 16, 2008)

Just letting you know I'm still reading this one. The last couple of updates have been good. Looking forward to more.

KF72


----------



## Mathew_Freeman (Apr 17, 2008)

Happy to come back off holiday and read some updates, too!

Give the party a poke to go deal with Bile Mountain will you?


----------



## the Jester (May 11, 2008)

*The Cannibal Problem*

“I thought we took care of all of these that were close to Var and Brelana,” remarks Baron Lillamere. 

“They must move around. They _are_ Chaos phenomena,” Alcar points out.

The party is staring at a large worm hole. Some time ago, they fought a band of giants led by Fnogghi Chaos-Hand, who had performed a terrible ritual that opened a plethora of gates to Limbo through which a series of immensely-powerful Chaos Worms had come to Cydra. This was one of Chaos’ methods of waging the Great War of Ethics, and- had our heroes not interfered with it- it could have dealt Law a mighty blow. But our heroes slew some of the worms, closed some of the gates and overthrew Law themselves. Now the worms are only a threat to the people of Dorhaus- and everywhere else, really- with no redeeming features.

“Isn’t there some way that we can redirect the worm gates to the plane of Law or something?” Sybele pipes up.

“Yeah, we should put that on the list,” JJ says.

The party casts a suite of buffing spells and descends into the worm hole. They are several miles outside of Var- and, indeed, in the past they had used Orbius’ divinations to verify that they had closed all the worm gates close to the city.  Clearly, the situation is more fluid than they had counted on.

Descending down the hole, the party glows with magical light. They can see the churned earth on all sides. When there are minor obstructions, the party removes them almost effortlessly. After a good half mile, they emerge in a huge cavern with a huge worm curled up in it. Immediately, Thrush, Gerontius Wankerman and Chakar rush to close the distance and engage it.

Bahgerah draws out a cube that he has not previously revealed, moves to a better vantage point and presses a face of the cube. Suddenly a force field springs into being around him! Lillamere cocks an eyebrow; he recognizes the device as a _cube of force_ due to his long fascination with, and study of, force effects. _I’d love to buy that off of him,_ the baron thinks, _shape changing_ into a red dragon and breathing a tremendous gout of flame on the colossal worm. Alcar hits the beast with a quickened _destruction_ and then a _flame strike._ Blaze follows up with a pair of _fireballs._ It’s a terrific amount of firepower, but the worm just rushes forward at Bahgerah. Fortunately for the tabaxi, his _cube of force_ protects him from its attack. Chakar kicks it as it rebounds-

And it splits in two. 

“Oh no!” shouts Sybele. “We’ve fought these things before! Don’t hit it!! We’ll only make more of them!!”

“This might still work, though!” Alcar cries, casting first another _destruction_ and then a quickened _destruction!_ The worm survives his assault.

And then it’s a confused mess. Our heroes try to stick to energy attacks, try to watch to see what works against the worms and what doesn’t- and it is a learning experience. Lillamere is sad to discover that force-based attacks, such as his _crushing fist of spite,_ will split them... and soon our heroes are fighting for their lives against _four_ worms. Chakar tries to wrestle one of them down, but it is too big for even his uncanny skills. 

Fortunately, both Blaze and Baron Lillamere have a wealth of spells that seem to work better- fire, cold and lightning. These don’t seem to split the worms, but they do help kill them. 

Unfortunately, mistakes are made, and there is yet _another_ split. Things begin to look desperate, but then Sybele drops two of them with a _breath of the black dragon_, giving the party heart. They redouble their efforts, and manage to put an end to the worm-cum-worms at last. 

Afterwards, as they heal up and prepare to exit the worm hole, Gerontius remarks, “If one of zese got free somewhere, a group of adventurers zat did not know any better could double their trouble very easily.”

“You’re right,” Thrush says. “We need to take care of this.”

“Along with everything else,” Sybele nods.

***

Back to Var, and our heroes check out the area where the radiocrystal golems that attacked Bahgerah came from. The hole they emerged from is pretty much filled in. 

“No problem,” says Baron Lillamere. His _shape change_ is still in effect; he turns into a xorn and simply swims through the earth to check the passage out. He returns a few moments later and reports, “It’s blocked up for at least 100 yards.”

“Put it on the list,” suggests Wankerman.

“It’s already there,” replies Blaze.

“Well, don’t cross it off just yet.”

***

Next, our heroes decide to check up on the cannibal situation that Lillamere heard about. They _wind walk,_ first to the west coast of Dorhaus and then further, out to sea. The day is brilliant and clear, with the sun burning bright in the sky above. The blue-green waters of the ocean shimmer and dance below them as the party passes overhead at breakneck speed. 

Even with their great speed, though, it takes hours before they spot the cannibal fleet- but as it slowly resolves into form as it closes the distance, it becomes apparent that it is huge. There are ships scattered from left to right as far as our heroes can see. 

_There are quite a few of them,_ JJ says telepathically.

_Yeah,_ agrees Lillamere. _We should take a prisoner and fight out what has them mobilized like this. It has to be something. There has to be a reason. Nobody would do this just because._

_The baron’s right,_ Sybele chimes in over the link.

It’s a fairly easy proposition for our heroes to drop back into their solid forms and then grab a hapless native and _teleport_ away with him. Alcar uses his holy magic to induce awe in the cannibal, and Chakar’s ability to speak all tongues proves handy. 

The cannibal’s story is simple and grim: Hextor has come to the Cannibal Islands, and most of the cannibals have fled. He has a bit more to say, but nothing that Blaze is really interested in. The sorcerer kills the prisoner with a _phantasmal killer_. 

Pretty much nobody finds that appropriate. The party has a quick heated discussion about the ethics of handling prisoners, but Blaze justifies his action by pointing out that they would have had to fight the cannibal eventually, and besides, he wasn’t exactly a prisoner; he never surrendered, and the party never offered him terms. It’s a bit of a legalistic approach for a champion of Chaos to take, but it (eventually) mollifies the others, although Chakar insists on paying a weregild for the man’s life when they return the body to the cannibal fleet. 

The cannibals are left with a puzzle, a corpse and 1000 gp. They aren’t quite sure what to make of this, especially as our heroes make a lightning-swift series of minor attacks on the lead cannibals. But there are too many of them for a _wall of fire_ and some _fireballs_ to really slow down; their vessels extend for many miles.

A quick _teleport_ back to Var, and our heroes discuss their options. “We need to get creative,” Blaze says. “There are too many of them for a brute force approach to work.”

“At least, to work _quickly,_” Thrush amends with a grin. 

 “Bah!” Alcar snorts. “These cannibals are a distraction from our real task- dealing with this Hextor, and his companion. Angels of the Apocalypse are no laughing matter.”

“I’ve been giving that some thought,” Baron Lillamere says, “and I think...” He looks at the others meaningfully. “I think we need Inoke.”

_*Next Time:*_ Will our heroes take Inoke back? Will Inoke take our heroes back? Will they kill each other? And what’s the cannibal solution??


----------



## the Jester (May 14, 2008)

“Inoke!” roars Alcar. “That traitor!”

“Nonetheless,” Baron Lillamere says calmly, “if we are to take out the Angels of the Apocalypse, I think we need him.”

“We don’t need him!”

“We might need him,” Gerontius nods. “That’s a good idea. I’ve been giving him a lot of thought lately, too.”

“He was a traitor to Chaos,” Blaze shrugs. “Just like that bastard Horbin.”

“Horbin isn’t actually so bad, either,” sighs Lillamere.

“Indeed. He was a staunch ally, and never betrayed us,” Chakar speaks up. “Inoke was a mighty ally, and though he turned against us, he never actually fought us- never even attacked us.”

“Well, he... hmm,” muses Thrush. “I guess he attacked Tiamat, but she’s hardly one of us, even if she was on our side.”

Alcar scowls. 

“We’ll talk about this some more, certainly,” Lillamere says diplomatically. 

“Well, I think zat it is time for dinner,” Gerontius says. “What do you say we return to Var for now and talk about all of zis over a meal?”

***

Back at the Three Rubies, in Var, Alcar issues a _sending_ to Lucifer’s Hidden Minister, Glaisig. _We need to talk. You are elder; I respect that. The Angels of the Apocalypse are coming. The mighty must unite. We must meet._

The response is immediate: _We must do nothing. You presume too much. You assume that we are not on their side._

Alcar is taken aback. He relates this message to the rest of the party, and everyone erupts in debate. Most of it quickly becomes telepathic. _Is he serious, do you think?_ asks Lillamere.

_No,_ Alcar declares. _He wouldn’t tell us something like that, if he really was. He’s too smart. Glaisig plays his cards close to his chest. He’s just refusing to play nice with us. Well, that’s fine. We’ll just remember that._

“I don’t know,” Sybele says aloud. “The devil dude is,” she switches to the link, _pretty sneaky. What if he told you the truth, knowing that we’d never believe him? It could be the nugget of truth at the center of a web of lies!_

_There’s no way to be sure of anything- except that he won’t be helping us,_ Chakar remarks. _So let us proceed without the aid of devils._

_It’s probably for the best,_ Lillamere acknowledges wryly.

Alcar purses his lips, unsatisfied. He proceeds with a series of _sendings,_ coaxing Glaisig to get involved, but the devil refuses to be drawn in to anything involving the Angels of the Apocalypse.

Meanwhile, Blaze grumbles into his drink about fey guards in God-King Malford’s castle that can detect him. He is puzzled as to how that happened, but definitely respects the king’s castle security now. 

Lillamere says, “Well, I actually have another dinner engagement. I’ll see you guys in a while.” With that, he _greater teleports_ to just outside Malford’s castle. He is already dressed impeccably for dinner; he shows himself in to the appointed room. The guards and servants recognize, and defer to, him. Soon he reaches the small, private dining chamber where Belmondo, Thrush and the king await him. 

It’s a long, political dinner.

Thrush- “Emperor” Thrush, he hopes- tells God-King Malford of his plan to conquer the Forinthian Empire, and of his possession of the crown. He tells Malford of Wankerman’s plan to conquer Strogass, as well, and of his possession of the _Rod of the Dark Emperor_. 

Malford plainly doesn’t like it.

Thrush tries to reassure him. “Don’t worry, we have no plans that conflict with you. In fact, my reign could be great for you. We could resolve all the territorial issues and so on.”

“You would, of course, recognize my sovereignty over Goldstone,” Malford says. 

Thrush frowns. “I can’t promise that. If I start giving territory away before I’m even on the throne, I’ll never be able to rally the nobles and the military around me. But think about it. If I become Emperor, we can negotiate a solution. That means that I can recognize your control over most of Dorhaus outright, and we can figure out some equitable solution for the rest.”

Malford stares at him. “You’re smarter,” he chuckles.

Thrush blushes. “Yes,” he nods, “I got a pretty useful magic item for this endeavor. It makes me a lot smarter, wiser and more charismatic. _A lot._”

“Where did it come from?”

“Prayzose,” Thrush says frankly. The word itself is close to a threat. 

“You’ve given me a lot to think about, I”ll admit,” Malford mutters.

“I have another idea, my lord,” Baron Lillamere announces. “About the Tiger Princess.”

“Oh?” 

“We can neutralize her- by marrying her.”

God-King Malford snorts. “There aren’t exactly a lot of candidates qualified to neutralize her.”

“I could,” Lillamere says. 

“You probably could, at that,” God-King Malford nods. 

“That’s a good idea,” Thrush agrees, “but there is a complication.”

“What’s that?” asks Baron Lillamere.

“Their child. The child must die.”

“I won’t be involved in infanticide,” Malford declares. “And neither should you!”

Thrush sighs. “I understand that it’s distasteful. But if I don’t kill that baby, when it grows up, it will come and challenge me. And by that time, I’ll certainly be past my prime; I might even be in my sick bed. If I leave that kid alive, I’ll be just like the stupid villain in every damned cheap Peshan theater I’ve ever seen- undone by failing to take care of the obvious.”

“I won’t be partial to it, either,” Baron Lillamere says. “It would really mess up my ‘marry the Tiger Princess’ idea, too.”

“It has to be done,” Thrush insists.

“Well, look, we can resolve this later,” Lillamere sighs. 

But Malford chuckles. “There is one problem with your plan, Thrush. Her baby is already gone. She will not say where. She has anticipated you- and, likely, a thousand others.”

Thrush’s face is a thundercloud. “So she has,” he growls. “Well then. So be it, for now.” He smooths his face. “Now, then- Malford, will you help me in my bid? I am not asking for men, or anything in particular- just your good will, and willingness to back me.”

Malford studies him carefully.

“I’m the best choice for you,” Thrush says. “I’m probably the only person that might take the throne that is friendly to you.”

Malford nods. “True. Well, I recognize the merits of your arguments, I’ll give you that... all right, I won’t declare for you yet or back you with any military force at this time, but you can know that I support your bid.”

“I’m still welcome in your lands? In Var?”

God-King Malford nods. “Yes, and hopefully we will be able to usher in a new age of peace.”

“Well,” Baron Lillamere asks, “is there anything that we can do to help you out? How are things going since the end of the Great War of Ethics?”

“Fine, fine,” Malford says vaguely. _Well, Thrush, my lad, I’d never have expected this of you. I’ll have to be careful what I say and do around you, now- no state secrets for you and your friends, alas. Damn it, Lester, you always bring this kind of trouble to me!_ Aloud, he continues, “Well, anything that you could do about Master Control could help.”

Lillamere turns to Belmondo the Enhanced. The dwarven prostheticist is slurping enthusiastically at his soup. “Belmondo, what do you know about Master Control’s activities?”

Belmondo swallows and then replies, “Hm, Belmondo doesn’t know much about what Master Control wants, really. While Belmondo was a prisoner, I was immobilized and unable to react almost the entire time. Belmondo knows nothing that can help you.”

“Well, we need to assign you some bodyguards,” Baron Lillamere starts. 

“Belmondo doesn’t need bodyguards,” the dwarf cuts him off.

“Yes, you do,” Lillamere insists. “This is twice, now, that Master Control has taken you and tried to use you. It isn’t going to stop. We need to ensure it doesn’t get ahold of you again.”

Belmondo glares at him for an instant, but then his stern face sags. “You are right,” he admits. “Very well. Belmondo will accept bodyguards.”

The conversation continues, wandering amongst various subjects until it comes to the Chaos worms, and Malford reveals something else interesting: apparently, Valonia’s Underdark is suffering from some kind of infestation of tool- and weapon-using worms with arms.

“Interesting,” says Lillamere bleakly.

Then he and Thrush tell the God-King about the cannibal fleet. Malford already knows about it, but was not aware of the size of it. “They were driven out by one of the Angels of the Apocalypse,” Thrush informs him. 

Malford growls under his breath. Fuligin, the first Angel of the Apocalypse, destroyed almost all life on Dorhaus. Felenga, the second of them, nearly merged himself with the Negative Energy Plane. Who knows what terrible plans this new angel has, or what horrendous powers?

“The cannibals are coming right for Dorhaus, too,” adds Lillamere. “Do you have any ideas as to what we can do to stop them?”

Malford smiles. “Rinardo,” he replies.

***

At the Three Rubies, Blaze finds a note waiting for him. It’s from someone named Bendrulo Pigeonfinger, a minor Xaositecht. He wants to see if he can stay with either Blaze or Wankerman (both Xaositechts as well) “for a few days” while he parties it up with them. 

“Hangers-on,” remarks Blaze.

“Do we need ‘em?” asks Bahgerah.

“Not really.”

“You know what we do need, though?” Gerontius says.

“What?” asks Alcar.

“Inoke.”

Alcar curses again. 

“He never attacked us, and he never lied to us,” Lillamere points out. 

“That is true,” scowls Alcar.

“Great, it’s settled.” Baron Lillamere smiles. “We’ll get ahold of him for breakfast.”

“It’s hardly settled,” Alcar retorts, but he does not dispute the baron’s plan for breakfast. 

The rest of the evening is almost uneventful. The only thing that happens, other than some drinking, eating and whoring, is the arrival of a tabaxi named Prrillk, sent by the famed tabaxi leader Hobbes. Apparently, Hobbes has somehow heard about the radiocrystal golem attack on Bahgerah, and (according to Prrillk), he was also attacked by similar golems recently, deep in the Underdark, in an area where teleportation only works across a short distance. Hobbes is tied up in some delicate negotiations, but he’d love it if Bahgerah would be willing to investigate the complex. 

“I’ll think about it,” Bahgerah says, “but I have a lot of other commitments that I need to handle first.”

“Well, contact Lord Hobbes when you are ready,” Prrillk purrs. 

***

Morning. Breakfast?

_Inoke, it’s Alcar. Come chill at the Three Rubies. Talk, chill, come on, bro._

The response: _Alcar, we’ll talk._

Breakfast.

_*Next Time:*_ Breakfast with Inoke! Rinardo! And Darkhold!


----------



## Angel of Adventure (May 15, 2008)

Yeah, bring back Inoeke!  He was always on our side, and never _really_ against us. 

Hey Inoeke, Orbius will volunteer to be your 'wizard at arms' if Jester will allow it.  (He's been a fan for a long time.)


----------



## Knightfall (May 15, 2008)

Very good updates. I'm looking forward to reading about the breakfast with Inoke.


----------



## the Jester (May 19, 2008)

_*9/22/371 O.L.G., 8:30 a.m., somewhere in the Parrot Isles*_

Baron Lillamere appears in a puff of displaced air. He is on a grassy hillside, with the sun bright overhead. As always, he looks magnificent, though he is dressed less formally than when he is focused on affairs of state. Inoke stands before him, large, imposing, strong. They are old friends; despite recent tensions, they smile and clasp hands.

“You ready?” asks Lillamere.

Inoke nods.

The baron lays a hand upon Inoke’s shoulder and _superior teleports_ the two of them back to just outside the Three Rubies Inn, in Var. Then he stops, and looks his old friend in the eye. 

“If we would have asked,” Lillamere says, “would you have told us?”

Inoke hesitates for a long moment. “It depends on how you asked,” he answers at last. 

“Fair enough,” Lillamere nods.

The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife as the two of them walk into the Three Rubies’ common room. Our heroes have reserved the entire place for themselves for today- just in case. The rest of the party stares as Inoke walks slowly towards them: Inoke, slayer of Asmodeus. Inoke, former party member... Inoke, former Arrow of Law.*

Some of the greetings are a little chilly at first; but Gerontius, especially, grins and claps his old friend on the back. He, Inoke and Lillamere adventured for years together, along with their dead friend Veil, before joining the rest of the party.

Breakfast comes, along with many different beverages, from milk to juice to wine and juice mixed. The food is delicious, as always; the Three Rubies receives vast sums of wealth from the adventurers that it caters to, and in order to continue being their destination of choice, it hires only the best help. As the party digs in to their meal, they cannot help but relax as the wonderful flavors and textures fill their mouths, and the delicious aromas waft through the air. 

Slowly the tension recedes, though it never vanishes.

“Well,” Inoke says at last.

“Well,” agrees Alcar. The angel glares at Inoke and shakes a finger. “You shouldn’t have done what you did!” 

Inoke shrugs uncomfortably. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand that you betrayed us,” Alcar snaps.

“No. I never attacked you; I swore I wouldn’t fight against you, and I didn’t.”

“Why, Inoke? Why did you join the Arrows of Law?” demands Lillamere.

The big man sighs. “You don’t understand,” he repeats. “It made sense at the time...” He heaves an unhappy sigh. “I never wanted conflict between us, but Prayzose approached me... he pointed out that he was the only Good member of the Arrows. If Law won, but Good had a strong presence, we would have had justice in the world. But if Law and Evil triumphed, it would have been tyranny.”

Gerontius, floating in the air at the height of Inoke’s chest, claps his friend on the shoulder. “I am certain that you only wanted to do what was right,” the halfling reassures Inoke.

“It doesn’t matter.” Alcar chops at the air with his hand. “You shouldn’t have done it. You may not consider what you did a betrayal, but you turned against us and joined the other side.” He shakes his head. “I’m willing to get past that, but only because _we need you._”

“You already know about ze Angels of ze Apocalypse,” Gerontius nods. “Zere are at least two of zem zat we must deal with.”

“Two of them!” Inoke groans.

“And there’s Bile Mountain, too,” Baron Lillamere nods. “I don’t honestly know that we’re ready to take on two Angels of the Apocalypse.”

“They’re the main event,” Alcar declares. “Everything else is just a warm up.”

Inoke frowns. “I’ll admit, both of those are causes I can get behind.”

“Then join us to take them on,” urges Baron Lillamere. “We need your help.”

“And maybe you could help us make my honey the emperor of Forinthia,” Sybele adds. Thrush grins.

“I don’t know about that,” Inoke says. “What is your claim based on?” he asks Thrush.

The would-be emperor grins. “I can do it,” he replies. “I can conquer the empire by force, if need be. And with Prayzose’s crown, I’m wise enough to be able to rule well. Plus, we beat the Arrows.”

“That’s not a very legitimate claim,” Inoke says. “Do you think you can really make it stick?”

Thrush shrugs and fingers his sword. 

“I will help you guys with the Bile Lords and the Angels of the Apocalypse,” Inoke decides. “Other than that, we’ll see.”

“Well, what about cannibals? There’s a fleet of cannibals coming towards Dorhaus by the thousands, maybe millions. They were driven out by Hextor. Will you help us protect Dorhaus from them?”

“Millions?” Inoke rubs his chin. “How do you plan to protect Dorhaus?”

Baron Lillamere smiles. “King Malford told me about something very interesting,” he says. “Something that might help. Or should I say... _someone._”

***

_*2/7/347 O.L.G., 2 p.m., Vordolith*_

_Lester, Thimbleton, Rinardo, Stone, Dab and Hobbes had at last reached their destination. After defeating the first Angel of the Apocalypse, Fuligin, they had sought to repair the damage done to the savaged land. It was nearly lifeless. Rinardo, through his druidic allies, heard rumors of an artifact that might be able to help: the Mantle of Gaea. A great deal of work tracked it down to the small continent of Vordolith, which- when the party arrived- proved to be fecund and overgrown everywhere. Even the desert, which an old map the part found called the Magnificent Desert, was overgrowing with life- including the cactus folk. They knew of the Mantle, but were only willing to surrender its location in return for a magic item that would provide them with limitless water. Lester used a series of divination magics to discern that a _decanter of endless water_ was in the possession of a strange creature called the Mirror Master that dwelled _beneath_ Vordolith, on the bottom face of the island continent.** The Mirror Master was a canny and ruthless monster called a morkoth, which attempted to hypnotize the party with the geometry of its lair, but they overwhelmed it. After all, its alien geometries were as nothing when compared to the horrific experiences most of them had recently experienced while inside Lester’s brain, fighting his third eye.

Finally, they had gotten the _decanter of endless water_ and ferried it back to the cactus folk. In return, they had guided the party to the cactus treant, which led them to the thick grove wherein the Mantle lay. At last.

The Mantle was made of living leaves and vines, and it was wrapped around a wooden skeleton.

Recognizing the risk, yet knowing that the need of Dorhaus, and of Nature, outweighed it, Rinardo slowly unwrapped the Mantle from the skeleton of wood, and then wrapped it around himself. It reacted immediately, sinking roots down into his body. He was shocked, yet there was no pain. Instead, he felt a slight numbness as a small piece of himself turned to wood. He turned to his friends. “Let’s go home,” he sighed. A smile played on his lips. “We have what we came for.”

They returned to Dorhaus. Everywhere Rinardo went, plants would grow. Even in a metal hallway, small grass seedlings would eventually begin to pierce the cracks and seems, and moss and mold would begin to spread everywhere. Existing vegetation grew prolifically, and everywhere he went on Dorhaus the land was rejuvenated. Thickets of rushes, oak and apple trees, tall grasses, bushes and brush, flowers and grains- life returned, and as the plants returned, the druids aided the situation by bringing animals to supply the land. Only a few, at first, but in but a few decades, those few would form burgeoning numbers, and the ecosystem would be reestablished. 

Yet, as the weeks passed, Rinardo found that he had to travel constantly. If he were to stay in one place for more than a day or two, the plants would grow so thick that they were impenetrable. Rinardo began to travel the length and breadth of Dorhaus, letting the _Mantle of Gaea_ work its powerful magic, watching the plants grow- knowing that his name would never be forgotten so long as civilization flourished on Dorhaus. Rinardo the Savior, they might call him, or maybe Green Rinardo. 

He sighed to himself. The Mantle could not be removed. He knew what he had to do. 

So Rinardo took himself away from Dorhaus, off the coast, north and west. Where he settled into the waves, _wild shaped_ into an octopus, an islet, first of coral, began to grow. When it breached the surface of the sea, its character changed. Around it, near the surface, a sargasso of kelp began to form. Above it, in the open air, first grasses, then bushes and trees, began to form. Larger and larger the islet grew, becoming an isle whose rises were sheer fecund vegetation. Soon the isle was an island, and it grew larger and larger until a finger of it touched northwestern Dorhaus. 

Then it stopped, and lay undisturbed for almost twenty-five years._

***

_*9/22/371 O.L.G., 8:30 a.m., somewhere in the Parrot Isles*_

The party arrives, via _superior teleport_, on a massive mountain of decaying peat and humus. The air is hot, moist, rich-smelling. There are plants and animals all around, in ridiculous abundance. 

“So how do we make contact with this guy?” Sybele asks.

“Good question,” nods Chakar. Nobody has an answer.

The party wanders around for a few minutes, just kind of looking around. Sybele finds herself observing a parrot that (she thinks) is studying the party shrewdly. 

“Hello?” she asks. It just squawks. She shrugs, but then it flies to another nearby branch and squawks at her again. 

Sybele follows the parrot over and it squawks again and flies off about ten feet, then stops expectantly. “I think this parrot wants me to follow it,” she yells to the others. She follows it, and they follow her, and soon it stops next to a fruit. She approaches and it squawks, but this time it doesn’t go anywhere. 

With a shrug, Sybele eats the fruit. “Tastes funny,” she sighs, and her eyes roll back in her head. She falls to the ground. 

“Sybele!” Thrush shouts. He leaps to her side. She is alive, but clearly, something weird is going on. “Alcar?” Thrush looks at the angel. “Do you think that you can do something?” 

“Wait a minute,” Jibber Junior says. “She might be on to something. Look at her eyes.”

Indeed, Sybele’s eyes are dancing beneath the lids, as if she was in the midst of a very powerful dream. Thrush bites his lip and nods.

***

Sybele feels odd, as if her arms were hundreds of feet long. She feels the ebb and flow of the tides of life all around her. Birth, youth, maturity, death, feed the worms, then recycled to birth again. (a presence) Sprout, emerge from the ground, unfold under the sun, flower, wither and die. (faintly in the background) Be eaten, or eat. Everything is just right. 

_Is there anyone out there? Hello?_ Sybele is a telepath. She has plumbed the depths of her mental abilities, and her facile mind reaches out, searching... searching. But she can’t find anything specific- just a sense of brushing against something, almost a stirring....

_*WAKE UP!!*_ she bellows telepathically, expending as much psionic power as she can in a single moment. 

Before her mind’s eye, a flower appears. No... an eye. An eye _within_ a flower. Blooming, ever blooming- pollen drifting in a screen around it. 

_We are in great danger,_ she sends urgently. _More evil from the sea, a six-armed incarnation of evil. Can you move yourself south, to the western sea?_ She sends a series of images: the cannibal fleet, Dorhaus, the sea area in question.

There is a faint response. _I will help if I can,_ a voice like a thunderstorm far away whispers. _Not fast. The Mantle... the Mantle... the Mantle of Gaea... it’s hard to stop... could grow a barrier... hard to stop, however... could let it grow..._

_I understand,_ Sybele returns. _Grow. Grow and drift to the west._

There is a whispered mental voice, fading again: _Yes... the Mantle..._

***

Sybele’s eyes open. “Wow,” she croaks. Slowly, she stands up. She looks at Lillamere. “It wants to be its own self-governing entity,” she says. “It won’t be colonized. But it will help us.” 

“Uh, I’ll tell Malford,” Lillamere answers doubtfully.

“Now what?” asks Chakar.

“Darkhold,” answers Alcar.

_*Next Time:*_ A Foray into Entropy!


*For anyone not up on the back story, the party is the greatest force of Chaos in the world. Their arch-foes were the Arrows of Law, who co-opted Inoke and got him to join their ranks. 

**Bear in mind that Cydra is a water world that is (in theory) infinitely deep. Continents and islands are actually floating bits of stuff, usually rock and dirt and so on, and these things exist _underwater_ too, but there is no “ocean bottom” per se.


----------



## the Jester (May 26, 2008)

*A Foray into Entropy*

“Why Darkhold?” asks Inoke. “I am not really interested in just going on random adventures...”

“Where else are we going to find information about the Angels of the Apocalypse?” Alcar retorts. 

“All right,” Inoke says. “As long as we’re on the trail of the Angels of the Apocalypse, it sounds good to me. But how do we find Darkhold?”

Baron Lillamere lifts the _Staff of the Emerald Mage_ and easily balances it on a single fingertip. The large gems set in either end pulse with bluish light. With his other hand, he sets it to spinning, and soon, compass-like, it comes to rest. The stone at one end slowly shifts the color of its radiance to an emerald hue. It points to the northeast.

“That’s how,” Lillamere says. “Zelman is inside it. His staff can find him.”

Alcar casts _wind walk_ on the party, and they move rapidly northeast for about ten minutes before JJ suggests telepathically, _Why don’t we just teleport to the nearest land mass to the north east?_

_Good idea,_ acknowledges Lillamere. Our heroes gather together in the air, and an instant later they vanish, reappearing on land. Lillamere spins the staff again, and this time they head in a nearly westerly direction. _We must have overshot it,_ thinks the baron.

Our heroes fly into the northwest sky. Soon they spy a pale blue moon, almost invisible against the sky, hanging like a drop of water in the distant sky. Not far below it sits a new island. 

Our heroes move to it and descend. They fly at breakneck speed above it. Gerontius calls out, _There are ruins,_ over the link.

_I don’t see Darkhold,_ Alcar replies. _There’s no sign of the hedges, or of the keep... maybe we should land and spin again.

Wait!_ he cries suddenly.

_What is it?_ Blaze asks. 

_I saw a _ sphere of annihilation_ down there,_ Alcar replies. 

_There are some other things too!_ Thrush warns.

Suddenly, from below, two shadowy forms erupt upwards from the surface. One of them slams Wankerman, and he shrieks as he erupts into cold, black flames. He can feel them searing his very soul, shriveling his spirit itself!

Then the orb of utter blackness that Alcar saw moves swiftly upward, speeding towards Thrush. The would-be emperor throws himself aside, suffering only a graze, but the blot of darkness blasts a scrape’s worth of him to dust! 

“Watch out for that thing!” he cries.

Almost as if it were intelligent, the sphere of nothingness begins zipping in at Thrush, buzzing him with obvious malign intent. He yelps every time it brushes against him, and takes frantic evasive action. “How do I fight this thing?” he shouts.

The rest of the party has their hands full, too, though; the two void shadows put up a terrific fight, and have no trouble landing horrible blows on our heroes. Then again, Blaze and Lillamere have no trouble unleashing a telling barrage of force. Combined with a _flame strike_ from Alcar, one of the shadows of the void goes down.

Wankerman, who is still aflame and shrieking in terrible pain, tries stopping, dropping and rolling, but without success. The black flames won’t extinguish! Alcar quickly sends a _Bless’ grasping hand_ to aid Thrush against the sphere, then tries to dispel the flames on Wankerman. They stubbornly refuse to go out!

“I’ve got an idea!” Baron Lillamere exclaims. He swiftly grabs up the big man (currently, Lillamere is in the shape of a gold dragon) and _superior teleports_ to the Halls of Healing in Var. 

“Take me to Horbin!” he cries to the startled acolytes. “NOW!!” 

Meanwhile, Blaze finishes the other shadow of the void with another volley of _magic missiles._ That leaves the _sphere of annihilation._

_And whoever is controlling it,_ Alcar thinks grimly. He is keeping his eyes out, but so far he hasn’t seen even the faintest indication of one...

Suddenly his eyes widen as an old, old legend occurs to him. _Thrush!_ he shouts over the link. _Everyone! It’s worse than it looks!!_

_And just ‘ow can it be worse than it looks?_ Gerontius sends back.

_It isn’t a _sphere of annihilation_ at all. It’s a _creature.

_What?_ 

_It’s a blackball,_ Alcar theorizes. _It’s basically like a _sphere of annihilation_, only it’s intelligent. They are also called ‘executioners of the gods.’ I don’t know what the hell we can do about this thing!_

Down below, in the ruins, in the midst of a set of cyclopean pillars, a figure garbed all in yellow emerges from within a shallow cave. He is tall and humanoid, but a deep cowl obscures his features. He chuckles gleefully as he steps out.

_He’s too far away to control it from there,_ Alcar thinks. _Who is that?_

“Hello!” cries the man in yellow. “The green pumpkin touches the gate!”

Blaze says, “What?”

“Watch out!” Thrush flies by, the blackball hot on his tail. Blaze dodges away, arrowing through the air. Gerontius buzzes the blackball, and it veers after him. He gives a gleeful shout and begins a series of dramatic aerial acrobatics, trying to shake it off. 

_There appears to be some kind of ‘atch in the floor of that cave,_ the halfling reports as he speeds by.

_Maybe that is where we need to go,_ Chakar suggests. He begins to move in that general direction, keeping a careful eye on both the yellow-robed figure and the blackball. 

“Who are you?” cries Alcar to the man in yellow.

“I was Kale once, but how’s your mom? My cats eat all the walls. The black boots.” The figure doesn’t seem hostile, but its manner is clearly more ominous than friendly. 

“What... something smashed my pumpkins,” Alcar tries. “The black thing, uh, sucks. My mom is okay.”

Gerontius continues to spin through the air, then whips to one side. As if possessed of no inertia at all, the blackball continues inexorably towards him. “Can’t shake it!” he cries. He tries zipping behind some foliage, but the blackball simply goes straight through it, unerringly towards him.

“My family was really warm. There are places that should not go to themselves. Without a scorpion your carriage can’t fjord.”

_He’s mad,_ opines Chakar. _And maybe dangerous._

_I can almost understand him,_ Alcar insists. _He’s trying to tell us something!_

Blaze gives a telepathic snort. At the same moment, Lillamere reappears. He has a smug look on his face.

The mad (?) man in yellow states firmly, “Not all hearts are meant to be purple. Yet frogs rain for summer.”

Chakar moves swiftly to the cave the man in yellow emerged from. The dwarven monk spares the figure a glance, but the yellow-garbed man ignores him completely, seemingly focused on the sphere’s chase in the air. The dwarf moves over to the wheel set into the hatch in the floor, but to his surprise it seems stuck fast.

“How do we stop this sphere?” demands Alcar, watching Baron Lillamere buzz and distract it from Gerontius. The sphere swoops in on him, but the baron _sidesteps_ out of the way. 

The figure in yellow says, “There were always creeks on the island when we were children, my twin and I. Old friends like gems and things lost in the bad house.”

“Well, I have an idea. I got something from Horbin’s _portable store_ when I saw him,” declares Baron Lillamere. He pulls a rod from his belt. “If this thing is like a normal _sphere of annihilation,_ one of the only things that might help is a _rod of cancellation._”

_Good thinking!_ Alcar exclaims telepathically. _Let me try something first!_ He tries to charm it, but has no effect. _Oh well, go ahead._

Lillamere buzzes in close, _shape changed_ into a planetar. He hurls the _rod of cancellation_ at the blackball, and scores a direct hit!

Unfortunately, the blackball eats the rod without harm.

“Well, crap!” exclaims the baron. “It was worth a try!”

Gerontius swoops in and attacks, seeming to inflict some minor damage, but his dagger is destroyed immediately. He curses and withdraws, suffering a minor, glancing blow from the blackball on the way out. A direct hit would be much more severe, he realizes as a few layers of skin disintegrate away, leaving a raw, bloody patch on his arm. Maybe lethal. 

The blackball pursues Gerontius again, who flies up and around. Meanwhile, Baron Lillamere lands at the hatch and turns the wheel that seals it shut. As a planetar, he is quite strong; but even so, he has to exert himself hard to get the hatch open. Finally, the wheel pops free and he opens the hatch. A ladder leads down out of sight. 

“Entropy is coming,” the man in yellow cackles. “It’s all in the cards. Do you play?” And with that, he casts an extended _fleshflow_ at the party. 

“Crap!” Blaze exclaims. Everyone manages to resist it, but he knows what a horrific spell that is by reputation, even if he has never seen it used before. He shudders to think of what it would do to them: cause their flesh to flow like hot wax, permanently- and horribly- malforming their bodies. That, Blaze decides, was unfriendly. He casts a _polar ray_ at the figure in yellow, but misses. 

Wankerman has been doing his best to endure the shrieking black flames that are running over his body. Finally they gutter and go out. He groans, badly wounded. 

“You can go with the porcupine if you want,” the figure in yellow says, “but the desert is for me now.” With that, he vanishes. 

_Who the hell was that?_ wonders Thrush over the link.

_I don’t know,_ Gerontius answers, _but let’s get away from that ball before we get distracted by speculation!_ He tumbles into the cave, where Lillamere is retreating down the ladder revealed below the open hatch. Quickly, the others follow. 

So does the blackball, eating its way through the stone surrounding the shaft they are descending. It tags Gerontius more completely than it has before, and he pulls away from it, but not before it destroys about a half inch depth on a large amount of his chest. Blood gushes down him as he screams in pain.*

Down they go. Chakar is the swiftest, and reaches the bottom first. He finds himself in a large cavern, much bigger than his darkvision can see. It is almost completely full of water. Huge mushrooms and strange fungi the size of houses grow alongside the water. In the distance, some luminescent lichens reveal that the room is at least several hundred feet across.

Everyone else comes into the chamber behind him, rushing forward. But the blackball doesn’t seem to be pursuing them inside this area. The party makes ready, but after a few moments, it still hasn’t come down. 

“Just as well, really,” comments Gerontius. He thinks glumly of his destroyed dagger. Yeah, sure, he has more- but every blade is special to him. 

“Where the hell are we, anyway?” asks Blazier. “And where are we going?”

“Time to spin the staff,” Baron Lillamere replies.

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes chat with Zelman! Can the god of illusions explain anything about that yellow figure?


*134 hp of damage in one hit.


----------



## Knightfall (May 30, 2008)

Blackballs, they're nasty!


----------



## Soramain (Jun 11, 2008)

Any chance of an update?

(bump)


----------



## the Jester (Jun 13, 2008)

“I have no idea where we are,” admits Baron Lillamere.

The Staff of the Emerald Mage continues to point the way. When he balances it on a fingertip and spins it, it always comes to rest with one end clearly directing them. But this place is nothing like the Darkhold that they have encountered before. There is no deadly grass turning to fire in a courtyard, followed by the illusory bridge and the acid moat, followed by a strange porcelain toilet down which they have previously been flushed. Instead, a series of natural caves, followed by hewn stone, has proved to be their path. 

Finally, after another long hallway, the staff leads them to a comfortable sitting room- and Zelman. The emerald-skinned god of illusions glances up from a book as they enter and cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, hello,” he says nonchalantly. 

“Hello!” JJ exclaims.

“Wow, I’m glad we found you,” Lillamere declares. “Where are we, anyway? This isn’t Darkhold- is it?”

“Of course it is.” Zelman seems surprised by the question.

“But there was no courtyard, or giant toilet,” Lillamere starts, and Zelman chuckles.

“There are many entrances to Darkhold. It is... malleable. Under the touch of the Master, anyway. You probably just came in an entrance that you didn’t recognize. But- why are you here? Clearly you were seeking me...”

“Yes,” Alcar replies. “We were hoping that you might be able to offer us aid against, or knowledge of, the Angels of the Apocalypse that are here.”

“Also,” Chakar adds, “we encountered a strange figure in yellow outside-before we even entered Darkhold, I think- who seemed to have control over a blackball. Do you know anything about him?”

Zelman looks stricken. “Yellow, you say? Trygar’s Hell!” 

“Who is he?” asks Wankerman.

“He probably follows Sariach Entropy, whoever he is,” Zelman says glumly, and proceeds to explain some truly ancient history to our heroes. 

In the previous multiverse, the one that has been devoured almost completely by its dark, primordial entity called Tharizdun, the one that Zelman had originated in, in his youth (before he was a god) Zelman’s worse enemy had been Sariach Entropy- Highlord of Yellow Dragonsa and Master of Dissolution. His rivalry with Zelman was unending. They hated each other. Zelman was a hero, a defender of the innocent, a champion of fairness. Entropy was a villain of the worst sort, enslaving the minds of his victims, chaining them inside illusions and distorting their realities until they bent to his every whim. They fought, again and again, and killed each other, again and again.

But Entropy was more than he seemed- much more. His Legion of Entropy consisted of people able to tap into the raw chaos that underlay the multiverse and tamper with it, creating blackening winds, chaotic blasts and even storms of chaos. 

“He said his name,” Alcar says suddenly. “The man in yellow- Kale!”

“Kale,” whispers Zelman, stricken again.

“You know him,” Chakar states.

“He was an old friend in the original timeline,” Zelman says. “When Lester and his companions went back into our old multiverse a few decades ago to get what they needed to defeat Fuligin, they created a divergent timeline- one where things happened differently than I remember.”

“But aren’t you from that timeline?” asks JJ.

“No,” Zelman replies. “Look, it gets very complicated, between the divergent timeline, Scytale and the three of us that are Darkhold gods, so don’t worry about it too much.”

“Sounds for the best,” admits Blaze. 

The long and the short of it, Zelman tells our heroes, is that Kale was an old ally and friend and a powerful archmage.* But Entropy was known for corrupting those that he got his hands on. If Kale has been turned to the side of Entropy...

“But I don’t understand how he could be here,” Alcar says. “From what I understand, the old multiverse is just dying embers, and there is no connection between there and here.”

“That’s true, as far as I know it,” Zelman answers. “But it’s possible that we have overlooked a very simple- a _deadly_ simple- way around that, all this time.”

“What?” asks Chakar, puzzled.

Zelman taps a rectangular case at his belt. “Trumps,” he says. 

They continue to talk for a time, turning the implications of that possibility over and over. Trumps would allow someone with the right card the ability to communicate from one multiverse to another- perhaps even to travel from one to another.

Of course, Zelman doesn’t tell them everything. He mentioned Scytale’s name once, but he does not repeat it or elaborate upon it. If his growing suspicions are true, though, Scytale- a representative of yet _another_ timeline, one that preceded Zelman’s- may have caused more trouble than ever before.

_He and his people came back in time to _my_ original time to prevent their advanced Armageddon,_ the god of illusions thinks. _They watched as another one, this time the apocalypse of Tharizdun, swallowed up the world. I think he has gone back to try again- and Boccob only knows what madness he could cause!_

But these are not troubles for the party- they have plenty of other things to concern them. For the moment.

***

The party elects, at Zelman’s suggestion, to spend a little time poking around in Darkhold. There are few places that are actually dangerous for people of our heroes’ caliber to explore, but Darkhold is one of them. Indeed, there are mighty monsters within, but nothing that overwhelms the party, by any means. There is a brief petrification at the hands of a blackstone gigant, but that is easily fixed. 

Finally, the party exits Darkhold. They make what they expect will be a quick stop at the cave where Kale emerged and poke around a little. Gerontius easily finds a hidden alcove with a gallery of paintings in it- including one of Zelman, as well as a figure in yellow similar to, but somehow distinctly different from, Kale. The paintings are cold to the touch.

“Don’t look at them for too long,” warns Alcar. “If they are trump paintings, you might contact someone we shouldn’t.”

“Well, we certainly shouldn’t leave them here,” Lillamere argues. 

“What if the subjects can look out of the paintings?” asks Chakar. 

“Possible,” concedes Alcar, “but I don’t really know enough about them.”

After some debate, the party decides to attempt to use the painting of Zelman- and they succeed, much to everyone’s surprise (including the Emerald Mage’s!). When they explain what they have found, the god immediately requests that they turn the paintings over to him, and after a small amount of debate, they agree. 

Zelman breathes more easily- he certainly didn’t want something like _that_ in the wrong hands!

Our heroes, meanwhile, start to discuss their next step- only to be interrupted by a _sending_ that abruptly reaches Alcar.

_Help! Bile Lords expanding grip, doing something terrible to the sea. I am Shethra the evoker, the town of Angelfire is already gone. At Hillfar._

He stiffens. “Let’s go.”

_*Next Time:*_ Beyond Bile Mountain!

*In the 1st edition sense, not the 3rd edition or 4th edition sense.


----------



## the Jester (Jul 5, 2008)

Shethra the Evoker is a member of a band of adventurers that has seen better days. “Two of us died, so that the rest of us might live,” she tells our heroes, once they arrive. “Something terrible is happening.”

“Tell us what you saw,” Baron Lillamere asks.

She shudders. “We saw... it was terrible. I-I barely know how to describe it.” She bites her lip. “We decided to call it the Sea of Guts.”

_The Queen of Guts must be involved in this,_ Gerontius sends over the party’s telepathic link. 

Shethra continues, “Let me start at the start. About a week ago, a group of five trade ships sailing the Salty Sea, around the northern coast of Pesh near Bile Mountain, found that the water was far fouler than ever before. Strange, ropy lengths of intestine rose from the sea itself and began to crush the vessels. Only one of the ships, made of quick-sailing lightweight wood, escaped to bring the tale to Pesh City, which is where we first heard of it. When we did, we immediately set out to see what they could do about it. But when we reached the area that we are now calling the Sea of Guts, the terrain had changed dramatically from what it should have been. It had been totally reshaped. The northwestern tip of Pesh has been transformed into a place of utter foulness.

“As we started to investigate, the sea heaved and terrible, huge ropes of intestine surfaced, trying to capture the swift vessel that we had hired. We managed to escape, but only by the heroic sacrifice of two of our companions, Bikkarikkapekkapek and Beshtoy. The ship was badly damaged, and a later attack by some sort of dragon destroyed it. Our party escaped onto the land, within the transformed area. This proved toxic and perilous. Strange, unhealthy-looking monsters traveled the landscape, belching bile and poison. We managed to fight our way out of the twisted landscape and rest- but when we woke, we were in it again. It is expanding! 

“Quickly, we resumed our flight away from the twisted lands. We met some giant eagles, who helped us move far and fast- which is how we got to Hillfar yesterday.”

She pauses, narrowing her eyes. She gazes at Lillamere. “If adventurers as mighty as us don’t stand a chance against these things,” Shethra says, “then we must call upon the mighty heroes who threw Bile Mountain down once before. We cannot reward you ourselves- we lost most of our gear and all of our money in the shipwreck- but you will be hailed as heroes throughout Pesh. And these are your enemies, are they not? Surely, if they are on the move, they will seek to destroy you in revenge for what you have done to them in the past.” She sighs. “Please, help us. Help our people.”

“Don’t worry,” Alcar declares. “We’ll destroy the Bile Lords- once and for all, this time.”

The party puts their heads together telepathically. First they send out a call to Horbin, but he is tied up performing an important wedding between a pair of Dorhausian nobles. He will not be free for one to two hours. Alas, they decide not to wait. First, they look at a map of the area sketched out by Godishagthra, one of Shethra’s companions. 

Our heroes, amazingly enough, are struck momentarily dumb by the map. 

“_That’s_ the northwestern tip of Pesh now?” Gerontius finally says.

If the adventurers’ map is accurate, hundreds of miles of the tip of Pesh have been consumed, or subsumed, or corrupted- or _something_- by the expanding area of bile influence. Instead of a solid plateau, the area has been rotten into a shredded archipelago of islets. A ring of blister-like hills are indicated; according to Godishagthra, they seem to be expanding, marking the edge of the influence. Within the center of the corrupted area, a large vortex of some kind is indicated. Near it, yet separated by a long finger of dissolving land, is a sargasso of sludge. North by northwest, an area is labeled ‘the Spew’; all that Shethra’s companions can tell our heroes about it is that it seems to be spewing out clouds of foulness from the area.  

“This is terrible!” Sybele exclaims. “We have to stop those guys in the mountain!”

“Let’s go,” Alcar demands. “Now. Straight to them. _Superior teleport._”

“We probably can’t do that,” Baron Lillamere reminds the angel of lost causes. “Bile Mountain has all kinds of wards against teleportation and divination.”

“We can probably teleport outside of it, though,” Wankerman says. “We’ve done that before.”

Lillamere nods. _Gather around,_ he tells the others telepathically. They cluster up, and he _superior teleports_ to the closest possible location to Bile Mountain.

They don’t go anywhere.

“Interesting,” Lillamere says. 

_I wonder if the whole area is abjured against teleportation,_ Sybele sends over the link.

“Fine. Then we fly.” Alcar declares. Everyone is already clustered around; he spreads his wings, Lillamere casts a few _fly_ spells and a moment later the group is airborne, speeding along through the sky. Inoke is mounted on his flying harness, one of the strange things that the party found in Darkhold.*

From above, the taint on the land is horribly obvious. The encroaching Blister Hills are disgustingly organic-looking. The land beneath our heroes shifts from green and gold abruptly to sickly yellow-brown and reddish-black. After a few miles they reach the deep rents in the land that have let the terrible Sea of Guts in; the land is tattered like the hem of an old robe, with foul ichors and weird growths pulsing upon it. There is an unwholesome stink that pervades the air, even over a hundred feet up, and it is tinted a smoggy yellow.

Gerontius alerts the others to a speck approaching through the sky. Quickly, the party cloaks itself in illusion, but when the party realizes that the creature flying in their general direction is some kind of dragon- brownish-black in color, with no hind legs, and clearly tainted by bile- they decide to destroy it. JJ opens things up with an _electricity wave_, but the dragon immediately responds with a sonic breath weapon of terrific potency. Lillamere uses his magical slippers to _sidestep_ the damage, and the party is spread out enough that only a few others are caught by the blast. 

Wankerman charges in, stabbing the dragon- whose name, for the record, is Vynj- and it bites him in return. “It’s got immense reach!” Wankerman exclaims. “And watch out, it’s poisonous!”

*Boom!* A _crushing fist of spite_ smashes down on the startled Vynj, summoned by Baron Lillamere; and then, whizzing in on his new harness with deadly speed, Inoke comes on the scene in his _form of doom_ and unleashes a torrent of attacks that leaves Vynj bloodied!** Sybele follows up with a shot from her bow _Cracker_, and she brings the toxic dragon closer to defeat. 

Then, for no particular reason, Blaze turns to JJ and casts _power word: Kill_ on him!*** JJ is unaffected (and in fact turns the spell back upon Blaze), but responds by creating a _chaotic breach_ that sends his erstwhile ally to Limbo!

Vynj, meanwhile, weathers a stinging full attack from Gerontius, and decides rather abruptly that this whole situation is a losing deal for her. She begins winging her way away from the party, trying to escape, but Sybele’s excellent archery skills land several arrows into it, and it finally stops flying and starts falling. After a long moment, it crashes onto the ground far below. A quick inspection ensures that it isn’t regenerating or anything, and then the party discusses things quickly and telepathically.

_Your _chaotic breach_ worked,_ Lillamere comments to JJ. _That means that at least _some_ teleportation or plane shifting abilities will work here._

_Hey, you’re right. I didn’t even think about that,_ JJ responds. _Then we should try to _superior teleport_ to the dragon’s hoard!_

_Not a bad idea,_ acknowledges Lillamere.

_Loot!_ Sybele chimes in.

The party gathers around Baron Lillamere again. “We shouldn’t get distracted from the true mission here,” Inoke reminds them. “We need to keep the Bile Lords firmly in mind here.”

“We are,” Sybele nods. She beams at him. “Maybe we’ll find some loot that will help us against them!”

_Either way, here we go!_ Baron Lillamere incants his spell, and our heroes appear in a cave with a deep chasm cutting it. On the far side of the chasm- which seems to be about 30’ across- the party can see a pile of treasure. 

On the near side, however, are a startled group of fiends.

_Those are shator demodands,_ Alcar tells them. _They are from Tartarus; they’re fiends._ He does a double take. _And their leader is Xorgor the Gorger! He’s a justiciar! Careful, he’s known for taking his prey alive!_

Battle erupts. 

***

In the swirling chaos of Limbo, Blazier thinks, _Hmm, that really didn’t do me any good. Not much point to staying here, either. Might as well go back and help my friends._ 

Through Sybele’s _synesthetic link,_ Blaze can see the fight and its location. He casts _gate_ and steps through.

“Don’t do that again!” JJ shouts at him in warning. 

Meanwhile, Wankerman has bullywug breakdanced all over one of the shators, while Alcar tears into them with _destruction_ spells. Chakar deals punishing blows to the fiends, and Xorgor the Gorger is beaten down shortly after the last of his lackeys. Alcar snorts. “I thought he would be tougher,” the angel comments. 

Then our heroes loot! 

Vynj’s treasure consisted of 12,440 cp, 50,600 sp, 24,935 gp, 10,330 pp, fifty silver trade bars (10 lbs. each) worth 100 gp each, a silver set of scales, weights and measures (12,000 gp value), a masterwork adamantine falchion, a 7’ tall bronze statue of one of the ex-party members, Angelfire (no doubt made in the town of Angelfire; worth 2,000 gp), a gold chalice set with sapphires and rubies (25,000 gp), an ivory tea setting (as a set, worth 5,000 gp), and several magic items, including some kind of cube, a suit of chain mail, 50 arrows, a scroll containing the divine spells harm, deadly weapon and countermagic, and a pouch holding 10 pinches of some kind of magical powder or dust. There are a number of other items that have been spoiled, tarnished or tainted beyond worth by the nasty infusion of the realm of Bile into this area, as well, but our heroes toss those aside for more desperate scavengers.

_We don’t really have time to stop to _identify_ things right now,_ Chakar opines on the link.

_Chakar is right,_ Inoke agrees.

_But where is the mountain?_ asks Alcar. _Where is Bile Mountain?_

Nobody has an answer yet. However, after a moment of telepathic silence, someone does have a suggestion. _Let’s at least go out of this cave and see where we are,_ Wankerman says, and the party agrees. Soon, they reach the exit. They appear to be fairly far towards the northern tip of the effect.

“How about the Spew?” suggests Alcar. “That’s where the bile is thickest in the air; I bet that’s where it’s all centered.”

_We might as well give it a shot,_ Blaze says. _We don’t have anything better to do._

Our heroes head towards the Spew.

_*Next Time:*_ Saamskagh the Bile Lord!

*For those of you that read comic books, this looks a lot like the astro-harness of Orion of the New Gods. If you use it to charge, you do double damage. Holy crap, INOKE has this thing! 

**Inoke’s attacks with his mace (not counting the tentacle attacks he gets for _form of doom_) did 536 points of damage to Vynj. Unfortunately, Inoke also fully penetrated Vynj’s various types of DR. Bummer!

***In character reason = follower of chaos. Out of character reason = drunken player.


----------



## the Jester (Jul 10, 2008)

The air for miles around the Spew is saturated with the foulness of bile. When the party starts to approach, they find themselves entering a thick area permeated by it. The party does what they can to shield themselves, but they can see much less and they are all worried about exposing themselves to that much bile. 

_I really don’t want to be breathing that,_ Blaze sends telepathically. The others agree.

_I bet that’s where the mountain is,_ Alcar retorts. _I’m going in._ 

_Even if the mountain is in there, we can’t fight if we’re saturated with bile,_ Lillamere responds. _We need to have more of a plan._

“There’s no time,” Alcar says aloud. “Look around. _This used to be Pesh._ And the effect is growing. We have to stop it.”

He presses forward. The others, reluctantly, follow him- but it soon becomes apparent that the bile will wreak havoc on them if they press too far. They retreat back out. 

“All right,” Alcar acknowledges, “maybe we should try somewhere else first.”

The party ascends again and takes a long look around.

_Let’s try that whirlpool,_ suggests Gerontius, pointing. The vortex he indicates is huge- miles and miles across. The party begins flying in that direction, each keeping a wary eye out for trouble. Below them, in the Sea of Guts, unseen lengths of ropy intestines as wide as a roadway churn and loop. 

Suddenly, a _fireball_ engulfs the party!

Chakar spins gracefully through the air, evading the flames entirely, and immediately drops towards the surface of the sea below. “Down there!” he shouts, and flies like a bullet at the yellow figure below- a Bile Lord! It is mounted on some sort of great sea beast, but the monk cannot make out exactly what it is.

Then, as Chakar charges in, the beast rears its reptilian head out of the water and snaps at him.

“It’s some kind of sea dinosaur!” exclaims JJ.

The thing rips at Chakar, but the monk keeps coming, bringing his foot solidly into the Bile Lord’s shoulder. Then a blue-white _polar ray_ zaps into the Bile Lord from Blaze, and the creature screams in pain.

“I don’t recognize him,” Sybele calls out. “Hey, we don’t know this one! Look, he seems kinda- younger!”

A _cone of cold_ from Lillamere slaps down at the combatants, and even Chakar is stung by it. “Sorry!” Lillamere calls. “I thought you would evade that!”

Then Wankerman charges in, his spear driving deep into the Bile Lord’s arm and shattering bone. This is followed by Inoke, on his war harness, who slams in and finishes the Bile Lord off and then cleaves onto the mount! It rears its head and bites him back, but he stoically accepts the damage and prepares a reply. 

Chakar leaps on it and begins pummeling it, while Blaze unleashes another _polar ray_ and JJ hits it with an _energy stun_. Wankerman adds a few immensely effective jabs, and then Inoke crushes it with his _Mace of Light._

The party spends a moment or two catching their breath. Then they get to looking at the vortex. It is huge, stretching for miles. The Sea of Guts churns sluggishly around a central, frothing point. 

“That’s odd,” says Chakar. “There should be a dip in the center, not a rise.”

“It’s not a whirlpool,” Alcar realizes suddenly. “It’s a reverse whirlpool! Look- instead of sucking water down into it, it’s pushing something- I’ll be it’s bile- _out!_”

_He’s right,_ Lillamere realizes. _This could be the central point of everything here! And it is roughly at the center of the bile zone..._

_It is probably piping the bile in from the demiplane of bile,_ speculates JJ. 

“Maybe we can seal it.” Alcar flies up above the center of the whirlpool and casts a _miracle_ to ape a _seal portal._

Slowly, the flow stops.

Our heroes cheer! “Well done!” Gerontius chortles. “Now, what is zat thing coming towards us?” He gestures, and the party turns to look where he indicates. 

A bizarre-looking _thing,_ an orb of eyes and mouths blended together in a fleshy monstrosity, is flying through the air at them, closing the distance rapidly. Many of its dozens of eyes orbit it independently. It gibbers incoherently, madly, as ir approaches.

“What the hell is that?” exclaims Wankerman.

“Let us slow it down,” Gerontius declares, and pulls a scroll out. He erects a _wall of fire_ before it, but to no avail: it simply plows right through.

And then, much like a beholder, it begins firing beams of eldritch energy from its eyes- from _dozens of them._ Lillamere suffers a _horrid wilting_ that almost slays him; he begins _shapechanging_ in order to regain some vitality, but to his dismay his _crushing fist of spite_ fails to penetrate the monster’s spell resistance!

Once again, Gerontius uses a magic device, this time a _staff of healing_. Some of the damage Lillamere took from the desiccating eye blast heals, but he is still if fairly poor shape. Chakar leaps upon it, pummeling it several times- but it is hardy and tough, and continues to blast at the party! And the orb can fire too many eye rays at once- blasting with _disintegrates, disjunctions, greater dispels, harms, chain lightning_ and much more. It sends out almost endless volleys of terrific magical blasts, and Gerontius scowls. 

“We cannot afford to ‘ave me waste any more time healing!” he declares. “Mes amies, I must take to the fight!” Suddenly there are naked, gleaming daggers in his hands, and he tumbles in on one side of the gibbering beast while Wankerman moves to flank on the other side. The two of them unleash a series of attacks so deadly that the thing is literally left in pieces- and it dies.

_Think we’re starting to attract attention?_ Wankerman asks with a telepathic smirk.

The party heads towards the Sargasso of Sludge.

_*Next Time:*_ The Inversion of the Tainted Lands!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman (Jul 11, 2008)

I love superhighlevel stuf like this.


----------



## the Jester (Jul 11, 2008)

For your edification and amusement, attached is the map of the "new look" of northwestern Pesh. (It used to be a smooth, beautiful penninsula.)


----------



## Knightfall (Jul 13, 2008)

Tallarn said:


> I love superhighlevel stuf like this.



I must agree. Great stuff.


----------



## the Jester (Jul 14, 2008)

I'm glad you guys are liking it.

It won't be too long before the epic is over, however. We have finished it up and tonight will be playing our first _full_ session of the 4e campaign.

Which, of course, means that there will be a new story hour before long... 

But I really should at least finish up the halfling story hour first, and be well on my way to the end of this one.


----------



## the Jester (Jul 17, 2008)

This next update will include some bits from a game that I ran at ConQuest in Sacramento a few months ago. A couple of my regular players were involved, and some random con players filled the other seats. It was a fun high-level planar game that I decided to run at the con in order to follow up on one of the threads that the pcs had simply dropped long ago. These are the characters from that group:

Zarthos Martexan- human bard 2/cleric 3/fighter 1/ardent dilettante 10; CN.
Lady Janis of Aris- human human paragon/knight/cleric/knight of the chalice 1/8/1/6; LG.
Toofsy Flapjacks- halfling barbarian 16; CG.*
Thepsa Nissefelph- human wizard/planewalker 9/7; N.
Kerthrelle Trialist- human scout/horizon walker 9/7; NG.

*Observant readers may note that Toofsy is a distant relative of the Flapjacks clan in the halfling story hour.


----------



## the Jester (Jul 23, 2008)

*Inversion of the Tainted Lands*

Meanwhile, about an hour before our heroes destroy the gibbering orb, on the Negative Energy Plane another group of adventurers are making their way to the bottom of the multiverse. 

For months, they have been working against a terrible cult devoted to a dead demon prince- Orcus, the erstwhile Lord of the Undead. Once, Orcus was a force to be reckoned with- a rival to mighty Demogorgon himself. But the bloated, ram-headed demon was slain by another entity of comparable power. 

No such entity could be simply forgotten, of course. 

The cultists of Orcus had crossed this group of adventurers once too often. They had locked themselves in mortal combat as the cultists sought their dead patron’s dreaded Wand, with which to attempt a blasphemous ritual at the bottom of the multiverse. If they succeeded, the cultists would redirect the cosmic levels of energy stirred up in the Negative Energy Plane by the destruction of Acererak the Demilich and his Phylactery of the Apotheosis in order to bring the long-dead demon lord back from oblivion.

The adventurers had come inches from claiming the Wand of Orcus when the head cultist had snatched it from them and fled. Now, they are in hot pursuit. The know where their enemies must go to perform their ritual- the very bottom of the multiverse, the lowest-energy position on the plane of negative energy.

When they transition to it, however, the heroes are shocked. 

Normally the plane is placid. Yes, it violently sucks all energy from unprotected visitors; but it is simply trying to maintain its ground state, an even distribution of all energy across the entire Void at its most stable, zero-vibration state, perfect entropy.

Now, though- this time- _the entire plane appears to be in turmoil._ 

Roiling blackness encroaches around the party. The negative energy is violently agitated, seething all around. The very fabric of the plane is a-ripple. Only Thepsa’s ability to adapt herself, and her companions, to the planar environment saves them all from instant annihilation. The planewalker’s eyes widen in shock. _Things should not be like this,_ she thinks. _What is happening?_

Below them, the Fortress of Conclusion hangs dead black against a dead black background. When the enemy comes forth- creatures of negative energy and shadow- Lady Janis, a knight of the chalice of great renown (and former student, long ago, of Sir Maxwell Norrington) and Toofsy Flapjacks, the halfling barbarian in the party, swoop over to meet them. A brief clash leaves the guardians slain, and the heroes storm the Fortress. In through a great green face, then through the sacked corridors of the place, the five of them rush forward. Kerthrelle, the horizon walker in the group, grips her spear closely. Zarthos, the ardent dilettante, grins madly and whistles softly as the party flies through the fortress. All of them are nervous.

Once, this place had belonged to one of the most powerful undead, anywhere in the planes: Acererak.

***

Meanwhile, perhaps an hour later, on Cydra, our heroes approach the Sargasso of Sludge. It stretches for a considerable distance in all directions. Disgusting sludge clogs the waters below, and fat particles of oily filth rise into the air above it. 

“Disgusting,” Alcar snorts, and casts _control water._ He lowers the water level in a large area, but the sargasso is far larger.

_I don’t see any sign of Bile Mountain here,_ Sybele sends over the link.

_You’re right about that,_ Blaze agrees. _Just sludge._

_Something is rising into the air._ Lillamere gestures. _Over there. They’re still a ways off._

_I’ve been thinking,_ Alcar says telepathically. _There has always seemed to be some kind of connection between Bile Mountain and the shadow plane. We know we can’t teleport in there, but have we ever tried _shadow walking?

_We certainly could,_ Blazier replies, and begins casting a spell. The party transitions to the Plane of Shadow-

An explosion of negative energy floods all around them. “What the hell?” shouts Wankerman in surprise. It is utterly black all around them. 

Alcar channels positive energy and manages to hold the encroaching wave of negative energy at bay for the moment. But the fact that the Plane of Shadow is flooding with negative energy is very ominous.

“What could cause this?” wonders Baron Lillamere. “Do you think the Bile Lords did this?”

_They have always had ties to the Shadow Plane,_ Alcar reminds the others telepathically. 

The party decides to explore for a time. Only Alcar’s continued channeling stops the negative energy from rushing in over the party, sucking their life from them. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold it back,” he warns his friends. “I think we’d better go back.”

Suddenly the positive energy bubble collapses, and the wave of negative energy cascades in over our heroes, draining their life and vitality at a prodigious rate! There is no time to do anything else; Blaze ends the _shadow walk_, and the party phases back into the material world, above the Sargasso of Sludge.

Several of the heroes have _foresight_ spells running. Suddenly they begin to scream *DANGER* louder than they ever have- a nonspecific danger, triggered by- nothing? But coming soon- in a few short minutes.

“Why wait?” JJ laughs, and says, “Follow me!” He opens a shimmering portal to Limbo and dances through. The party follows him, and immediately the sense of impending doom ends. 

“The Bile Lords are doing something,” Alcar declares. “Whatever it is, it’s going to take effect soon. We have to stop them!”

“There is a _lot_ of danger coming,” Blaze reminds him.

Alcar shrugs. “We can take them.”

“We need protection,” Lillamere says. Switching to telepathy, he goes on, _I know Orbius designed some protective spells. If there were time to find him, we could probably get them from him. Who else knows them?_

_I do,_ Alcar replies.

_And we can ape them with _wishes, limited wishes_ and _miracles,_ if we have to,_ Lillamere continues. _That’s something, but we need more. We can’t rely on having just one person with the spells. Scrolls, maybe, or something._

_We don’t know that the Bile Lords are going to give us the luxury of time to think about it,_ Gerontius points out.

_True. But we’re going off half-cocked. You know what kinds of trouble that causes._

Gerontius only nods. 

“We need to be there when whatever it is happens,” Alcar urges the others. “I’m going back. Anyone else who wants to stand with me, come along.”

“What the hell,” Blaze shrugs. “Why not.”

“I’ll go too!” declares Sybele.

They return to the scene, while the others remain in Limbo. They all stay in telepathic contact as the moment of the great danger gets closer and closer. 

“Oooh, forget it!” Sybele _teleports_ about a hundred miles away. _I don’t know if I’m out of the danger zone or not, but I’ll come back if there’s trouble!_ she promises.

Meanwhile, Alcar and Lillamere uneasily await- whatever is going to happen. 

_Now,_ Lillamere sends. _It should happen- now. Whatever it is._

And it does.

Suddenly the ground spasms, almost as if it were gripped by an earthquake. The air ripples with a sickly yellow color and fills with the stink of bile. There is an enormous tearing sound. The air, the water, the earth itself that have already been tainted seem to shudder all around them as the colors of bile run through everything. It is as if the world has suddenly gone all bile. The distant areas that Alcar and Baron Lillamere could see a moment ago that looked untainted have vanished from view. A shuddering sensation of travel shocks through them. 

“Oh sh3t!” says Alcar. _I think we’ve just transitioned to the demiplane of bile!_ he announces telepathically. 

The only other person on the link is Lillamere. 

Quickly, Alcar shuffles out his trump of Lester. It doesn’t seem to work. It is not even cold to the touch, which trumps usually are. 

_Plane shift?_ No luck. _Shadow walk?_ No.

All around the two adventurers, the landscape is bile.

_*Next Time:*_ What now, o mighty adventurers?


----------



## Seance (Jul 24, 2008)

It was Alcar and Lillamere that were shifted to the plane of bile. Elves in front!!!                      




Go Summer Team!!


----------



## the Jester (Aug 3, 2008)

Here are two more maps that might be of interest in the update that I hope to post today.


----------



## the Jester (Aug 4, 2008)

_Lillamere? Alcar?_ Gerontius calls telepathically.

There is no answer.

“They’re off the link,” Gerontius says. He furrows his brow. “We ‘ave to go ‘elp them.”

“No question,” nods Inoke. The rest of the party concurs. A moment later, a _gate_ opens in the air above Pesh and our heroes fly through (Inoke riding his flying harness). But things are not as they expect.

The bile coloration and sickening stench that had pervaded the bile-tainted lands is gone. Blaze gasps. The party is in mid-air over a horrifying sight. For dozens of miles around, and dozens of miles deep, a huge, filthy shell has been chewed out of the water and earth. One edge of it has shorn away a large chunk of Pesh itself! Inexplicably, the sea water does not rush in to fill it. Instead, the filthy shell remains, rippling on the surface of the deep waters it has exposed. Strange, cartilaginous growths run along the surface of the shell; a moment after he spies them, Blaze realizes with a shock that they are the size of mountains.

“Dexter’s eyes,” exclaims Chakar.

“This is not good,” declares Wankerman.

“Wow, that’s a big hole!” JJ says lasciviously.

***

An hour before, at the bottom of the multiverse in Acererak’s lost Fortress of Conclusion, the adventurers storming the place clean their blades of the head cultist’s blood. Yet they have not yet recovered the dreaded Wand of Orcus, nor have they breached the deepest portions of the lair. They have not yet dealt with the creature _behind_ the cult, and the attempt to resurrect Orcus: the Void Master.

They move swiftly, aware that time is against them. Their protective spells and enhancements are running. Quickly they search their way through the leaden walls of the place until they discover a mad room with strange catwalks arranged in chaotic shapes and patterns. All around the edge of the chamber, huge shards of shattered crystal stand like sentries. These, though the adventurers do not know it, are fragments of the Phylactery of the Apotheosis used by the demilich Acererak in his bid to join his consciousness with that of the Negative Energy Plane itself.* Thepsa recognizes at once that the strange, arcane apparatus assembled here is responsible for the continuation and amplification of the agitation of the Negative Energy Plane.

Ahead, fastened to the end of a long, thin spire that juts away from the paths, is the Wand of Orcus.

Immediately, the heroes move forward, with the halfling barbarian, Toofsy Flapjacks, leading the way. She is flying, and as he leaves the path, he immediately convulses with negative energy. Black necrotic power rips through her, and she gives a great yelp and falls back to the pathway. Immediately, the reaction stops. Gasping, she says, “Let’s stick to the pathway.”

***

Alcar and Lillamere look at each other. 

“We’re screwed,” Baron Lillamere says flatly. “Unless-” He digs a scroll out and takes a deep breath and reads.

_“I _wish_ that the last five minutes has not yet happened, but that Alcar and I keep the knowledge of what we’ve seen here!”_

***

Rewind a minute. Or five. 

Several of the heroes have _foresight_ spells running. Suddenly they begin to scream *DANGER* louder than they ever have- a nonspecific danger, triggered by- nothing? But coming soon- in a few short minutes.

“Why wait?” JJ laughs, and says, “Follow me!” He opens a shimmering portal to Limbo and dances through. 

“Wait a sec!” Lillamere shouts, but most of the party follows the demislaad, and immediately the sense of impending doom ends for those that do. 

“The Bile Lords are getting ready to rip a big chunk of Pesh away from Cydra,” Alcar declares. “Lillamere and I just got trapped on their demiplane, but a _wish_ reversed time so that we could escape and bring you guys with us!”

“There is a _lot_ of danger coming,” Blaze reminds him.

Alcar shrugs. “We have to track the Bile Lords down to their lair- and kill the Queen of Guts and King of Bile.”

“We only have a couple of minutes to prepare,” Baron Lillamere says. Over the link, he repeats the conversation to the party members in Limbo.

“That’s a _lot_ of danger,” Blaze repeats. 

“What else are we here for?” Inoke shrugs.

_We’re going off half-cocked. You know what kinds of trouble that causes,_ Lillamere sends over the link. _But they are about to invert part of reality. We don’t know exactly what they are doing or why, but it can’t be good. Look at what they have already done to Pesh! We have to stop them. If we don’t follow them to their lair, who knows if there is another way to reach them?_

“We need to be there when it happens,” Alcar urges the others. “I’m going back. Anyone else who wants to stand with me, come along.”

The others, swayed by the words of the angel and the baron, all return to the site. 

_Now,_ Lillamere sends. _It should happen- now._ His stomach clenches as he thinks of the gut-churning event about to occur.

And it does.

Suddenly the ground spasms, almost as if it were gripped by an earthquake. The air ripples with a sickly yellow color and fills with the stink of bile. There is an enormous tearing sound. The air, the water, the earth itself that have already been tainted seem to shudder all around them as the colors of bile run through everything. It is as if the world has suddenly gone all bile. The distant areas that the party could see a moment ago that looked untainted have vanished from view. A shuddering sensation of travel shocks through them. 

All around the adventurers, the landscape is bile.

“There!” Alcar shouts eagerly. “There it is!!”

Bile Mountain looms below them. Everyone feels a surge of hope. Here, this is where the enemy should be! The terrain everywhere else around the mountain is a landscape of horrors, including a huge, many-mile wide popped blister on the surface of the very plane. 

_To the mountain,_ the party says telepathically as one. 

***

At the bottom of the multiverse, hidden in the blackness of the room with the Wand of Orcus within it, the Void Master silently gloats as the party of adventurers gather themselves up and prepare for another attempt to snatch up the dreaded Wand.

Their deaths at its touch shall be the final components necessary. All the energy of the Negative Energy Plane’s turmoil will be gathered, focused through the shards of Acererak’s Phylactery, and channeled to the remote location on the Plane of Shadow where the hulking stone form that is the astral corpse of Orcus lies. It took a great deal of effort to spirit it out of the Astral Plane itself, but the Void Master and his cult of Orcus-worshipping deviants have a long and powerful reach.

That much raw negative energy, along with the focused faith of the thousand cultists who would all be drinking poison at the right moment, all thrown into the Demon Lord of the Undead, would revive him.

The Void Master’s intangible fists closed. _Soon, my Lord._

***

Wheels within wheels, plots within plots. 

The destruction and utter annihilation of Acererak banished the spirit of the demilich utterly- beyond life, beyond death, he was gone. 

And yet... a new discipline, concerned with seals and bindings and pacts, had recently sprung up on Cydra. It had spread like wildfire throughout the planes, though it had only a few hundred practitioners, or less, on any given world. These strange binders contacted the vestiges of the utterly destroyed- including Acererak. 

There was nothing of him left, yet the binders touched his spirit nonetheless. 

It was enough.

Acererak could make only the subtlest of moves, and only through the actions of others. He was helpless to affect the real world. Yet, when the apparatus began to be constructed using the fragments of his phylactery, he knew that there was yet a slim chance that he could return to existence. From beyond the opaquest veil of all, he might be able to seize some of the negative energy and _ride it_ back to existence.

But he was reliant, completely, on the actions of others that he could not influence. His only hope (he knew) was that events would transpire in such a way that he _could_ act.

That moment, when the flux of negative energy came through, would be critical. 

***

At the base of Bile Mountain, our heroes swoop in to the entrance cave. They fly in and meet the first wave of defenders- a cadre of gutling shadow giants. Our heroes tear through them without slowing down and ascend the stairs that run along the interior of the great, bile-filled cavern on the first level of the mountain.

Up, up- to the entryway of the next room. A pair of deathbringers awaits them- mighty undead warriors wielding a flail in each hand. The party rushes in, with Alcar unleashing a sizzling burst of positive energy in the form of a _mass cure light wounds_.  

At first there is a great press, as the two deathbringers keep the party from advancing into the room. There is too much of a mass of people trying to push in, and they are locked down. But this lasts only a moment, as Gerontius tumbles in behind the undead and unleashes an amazing sequence of devastating attacks. JJ flies up and over his friends, but the deathbringers keep the choke point choked up.

Then the equation changes a little- as a large chunk of wall shatters and explodes inwards, as a huge serpentine mass of elephantine bones slithers forward. Ribs and legbones rasp across the stone floor as it rears up like a cobra. 

“It’s a boneyard!” Alcar cries. “But it’s a big one!” 

Striding forward from behind it comes a mighty-looking dire loxo. 

“Zere is more than one of zem, mes amies!” Gerontius warns.

A door at the far end of the room opens, and a red-skinned, bull-horned, foul-looking humanoid thing blinks through rheumy eyes at the party. 

_That’s a deathdrinker- a type of demon,_ Alcar warns telepathically. _It’s got a negative energy aura- if you end up too close to it..._ His mental missive trails off. Then, explosively, he resumes, _Of course, it will also help heal all these undead! Damn it!_

The deathdrinker, meanwhile, laughs malevolently as it cracks its knuckles- and then aims a terrifyingly powerful series of scythe attacks at Wankerman. He cries out in surprise at the amount of damage the demon can deal. Its eyes widen at his survival, and it gives another harsh, malicious laugh. 

“I am Zarsh, mortals,” the demon gloats. “I shall drink in your death!”

“You think you have what it takes?” sneers Wankerman.

“We defeated the Arrows of Law,” Chakar informs the demon gravely. For an instant, doubt crosses its face.

“Don’t worry, your bosses are on our list, too,” Inoke adds grimly.

***

The Void Master watches as the party approaches, more cautiously this time, and careful to keep to the walkways. 

“You have gone far enough,” it tells them as it emerges from hiding. At its gesture, a cloud of inky blackness drops on them. 

“This is it!” shouts Lady Janis of Aris. She pulls _Fiendbane_ free of its scabbard with a ringing sound as the group tries to get out of the murky lightlessness without stumbling off the pathways. 

The Void Master points again, and a pale green ray shoots from his outstretched fingertip, _disintegrating_ the walkway under the party! They all start to drop, but most can fly, and after a moment of agonizing negative energy exposure, they regain the catwalks. 

“You will die,” the Void Master says calmly. 

“I don’t think so!” shouts Toofsy. The halfling charges forward and rams her glaive into the Void Master’s leg! An instant later, Lady Janis is on the other side of the thing, hacking wildly with all of her strength.

It _greater teleports_ to the other side of the chamber and fires an _enervation_ bolt at the Thepsa, the planewalker. Negative energy weights him down like lead, and he groans. 

The battle rages hard and hot at the bottom of the multiverse. 

_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes continue their assault on Bile Mountain! The Void Master faces off against its foes! Will Orcus rise from the dead? Will Acererak return??


*Only intervention by the pcs stopped him from succeeding. This was all detailed in To War Against Felenga.


----------



## the Jester (Aug 15, 2008)

Somewhere atop an ice-sheathed mountain, fluttering the weave of the universe with hands of raw entropy, Kale Curi croons to himself. 

Once- long ago- he was human. 

Now he wears the yellow robes of an Entropic Legionnaire. Long ago, Sariach Entropy broke his mind and twisted his soul. Even the divine influence in his blood- his grandmother, after she died, was revered as a minor goddess- could not save him. 

Without Zelman to oppose him, Entropy won out. 

Now Kale’s mind is a fractured, torn curtain that barely covers something much deeper, more primordial than thought. His once-towering intellect is now more like a widespread net, catching many things from all corners while letting all the fine details slip through.

Fine details. Like who he is, who he was, who he would be. 

An emerald light suddenly gleams, reflected in the ice on his mountaintop, and his hands snap back into claws. 

*Kale.*

***

“Well, zat could ‘ave been ‘arder,” Gerontius says aloud, pulling his dagger from the deathdrinker.

“I’m sure that it will be,” Baron Lillamere smirks. 

The party surveys the devastation all around them. Bones from the great boneyard that attacked them are scattered everywhere, crushed, cut, scorched and broken. The corpses of the deathbringers and the deathdrinker take up a large amount of space. The stench of the undead and the demon fills the air.

Our heroes, of course, have smelled far worse. In fact, the stink of demon and undead is actually less unpleasant than the background aroma of bile.

To one side of the room, the collapsed section of wall that the boneyard busted through leads to a hallway. On the other end, a closed door waits. Another hallway also leads from the area, but it is blocked by a portcullis. After a moment or two of poking around, the party settles on the portcullis as being the most promising avenue of exploration. 

Alcar’s arms bulge as he single-handedly lifts it up and out of the way. 

“I could have done that,” comments Wankerman.

The party passes through. After only about 20’, the passage turns to the right, but at the elbow of the turn there is a door. However, the passage seems to have large areas molten open into caverns right off of it. 

_Uh oh,_ Gerontius sends telepathically. _There might be more bile oozes in there._* An instant later, he calls out, _Movement!_

“It _is_ a bile ooze!” Alcar shouts, and casts a trinity of spells: two _destructions_ and a _flame strike!_ The ooze quivers, but is far from destroyed. And before anyone else can act, it spews out an acidic blast that covers Alcar, Blaze and Inoke! All three of them cry out in pain; both Blazier and Alcar are also stunned. To his horror, Blaze’s _cloak of charisma_ melts and dissolves under the onslaught!

Things suddenly get worse when the shadow spider drops on Blaze from above. A moment later, four shadows of the void- terrible undead creatures of raw negative energy- burst into the conflict, and our heroes are fighting for their lives. JJ blasts them with an _energy wave_ for immense damage, but they keep coming.

As he weathers another round of attacks from one of the bile oozes, Inoke suddenly lights up. “I’ve got it!” he exclaims, and initiates _iron body_. _That ought to protect me from being stunned,_ he thinks, and grins.

***

Bouncing from one end of infinity to the other, back and forth, the turmoil in the Negative Energy Plane continues. It is reaching a fever pitch. The fabric of reality itself is starting to tear apart. The plane cannot sustain such violent motion for much longer without rupturing utterly. 

The negative energy storm, outside the Fortress of Conclusion, rages. Slowly, a panel atop the great edifice slides open, and a long, slender arm of crystal extends, like a lightning rod, into the storm.

***

_Fiendbane_ sings as Lady Janis swings again, cutting desperately into the Void Master’s null-flesh. It screams again, the noise swallowed by the raging negative energy storm that swirls all around them. Overhead- though they cannot tell, as it is black on black in a field of blackness- a great ceiling panel slowly slides open. The crystal arm extends into the storm, and swiftly, the negative energy is drawn forward to it. Like a flood of water racing downhill, it rushes to charge the crystalline rod. 

The Void Master’s flailing claws tear flesh and spirit. Lady Janis begins to falter. The negative energy running through the place makes the beast seem to swell with power.

“You cannot defeat me!” Its laughter booms through the halls of the Fortress of Conclusion. “But celebrate, mortals- for you shall be the first souls that lord Orcus consumes upon his return!”

“I don’t think so,” Thepsa snarls. She fires another withering beam of eldritch energy at the creature, and it howls in rage again. 

Then Toofsy, the halfling barbarian, charges in, her adamantine glaive striking out as swift as a cobra. She takes the Void Master’s leg out from under her. “DIE, you black-hearted bastard!” she roars. 

“And let us help!” adds Lady Janis, wincing from the pain of her wounds. Blood and blackness stain the breastplate of her armor. She swings _Fiendbane_ down again and again, and the Void Master tries desperately to concentrate long enough to _dimension door_ away again.

But it cannot.

With Thepsa firing spells to discourage it from focusing, with Toofsy and Lady Janis brutally hacking at it, the Void Master weakens. Inky fluids fly hissing from its form as the heroes hack and cut at it, until, finally, it gives a last, fading wail- and melts into an oily stain.

Lady Janis lifts her blade high, still dripping with the foul ichor of their foe. “HAIL VANDREU!!” she cries. “His will be done!”

Then the entire Fortress of Conclusion shakes, throwing Zarthos off the edge of one of the walkways even as he tries to heal his friends.

With the strength of a tsunami, the negative energy flows through the ‘lightning rod’ above the room and directly into the Wand of Orcus.

***

Outside the bounds of life and death, the helpless vestige of Acererak the Demilich watches. It feels a rush of exaltation as the crystal rod is invested with much of the power of an entire plane.

_Yesss,_ Acererak thinks. _Formlessness will be lost. I shall return. And I shall seek revenge on those upstarts that dared travel to my fortress and destroy my Phylactery!_ He gloats as the energy runs through the shard of his hopes, and slowly he begins to feed on it, gaining power and form with each passing moment.

***

In the guts of Bile Mountain, our heroes rally. With Inoke immunized against the bile ooze’s acidic attack, he is able to bear the brunt of the bile oozes. Meanwhile the others turn to face the shadows of the void, as well as the spider that is trying to eat Blaze’s face. The gnome manages to squirm away from the spider, then casts a quickened _shield_ and a _displacement_ spell- but he can feel the difference in his potency, without his cloak, and he utters a very colorful curse at the bile oozes. 

The spider scrabbles to its feet and begins to pursue Blaze, but JJ intervenes, channeling a _cold stun_ with an _anarchic surge._ It blasts out, destroying the shadow spider.

Meanwhile, the shadows of the void that remain blast at Alcar with _polar rays._ It is clear that they view him as their primary target; indeed, the angel-cleric is certainly the best equipped to deal with them. However, when Alcar takes both _polar rays_ full in the chest without even slowing down, they flee through the door at the bend in the hallway, moving right through the door without stopping to open it.**

Then another ooze rushes out at Alcar- but unlike the others, this one is run through with blackness. “Look out!” warns Wankerman with a shout. 

The angel turns his attention to the newcomer, even as Inoke finishes off one of the bile oozes and whirls to perform a _heedless charge_ on the next. With a roar, he gives it the so-called ‘Inoke Special’- a _psionic lion’s charge,_ going all out, that utterly destroys another of the oozes!

Just when it looks like things are starting to wind down, however, the shadows of the void dart back into the fray, coming out of the walls, and another figure phases up through the ground. Trilaterally symmetric, it is clearly a xorn- but not just any xorn. Wankerman recognizes it. “Watch out, that’s Bennng!” he cries. “That’s one mean xorn elder- it is an interplanar thief and mercenary!”

“Not anymore,” Baron Lillamere cries. “Look, it’s dripping with bile!”

Bennng leads forward and takes a terrific bite out of Wankerman, dealing shocking amounts of damage.***

But the party has had a few moments to unleash some healing on themselves, and now they rally and strike. It takes Alcar only a single volley of spells to put the two shadows of the void down, and then he and Inoke double-team the xorn. Between them, they are two of the mightiest warriors in the cosmos; Bennng is bound to fall. Instead of letting itself be slain, however, it drops back through the floor, phasing away. Immediately, our heroes turn and focus on the shadegut ooze, the last remaining visible opponent, although some focus on it by drawing back and shouting for healing. Once again, his _iron body_ and _energy immunity_ protecting him, Inoke finishes the monster.

Silence falls, broken only by the sound of the party’s panting breath. 

“I ‘ave plenty of ‘ealing scrolls and a wand,” Gerontius says, after a moment. 

Alcar nods. “Let’s get healed and then go kick some Bile Lord ass!”

_*Next Time:*_ What will happen on the Negative Energy Plane? Will the xorn return? Where are the Bile Lords, and how will our heroes perform- the Calling Out?


*During their _Revenge on Bile Mountain,_ the pcs encountered several nasty bile oozes that they quickly learned could destroy their items with an acidic spray effect.

**By this time, our heroes have already discovered that opening and closing doors is a free action to many of the creatures in Bile Mountain, but they have not figured out how they do it. The answer lies on page 108-9 of _Dungeonscape,_ for the record- I wasn’t cheating! 

***78 points of damage in a single bite. That was 6d8+20 plus 7d6 sneak attack. Ouch!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman (Sep 12, 2008)

Hey Jester - no update for a month? What's up, mate?


----------



## the Jester (Sep 16, 2008)

Tallarn said:


> Hey Jester - no update for a month? What's up, mate?




August sends shockwaves through my life, between my birthday and Burning Man.

I'll be back to it before too long, though. I'd guess I'll update _something_ before the end of September and be back in full swing sometime in October, though this is just a guess. I am also in the midst of some life changes (about to quit my job and attempt to become self-employed). Who knows? I might be on 'low update mode' for a while, we'll see what happens, but I _will_ write the rest of this, never fear!


----------



## Seance (Sep 21, 2008)

For Bleak's sweet sake, BUMP Jester Friggin' BUMP!!


----------



## Rikandur Azebol (Sep 21, 2008)

Excellent as usual Jester !


----------



## the Jester (Oct 3, 2008)

*The Calling Out*

Our heroes do not relax their collective guard for an instant. Though no more monsters appear immediately, the party is still alert for trouble. They examine one of the hallways that they fought in; it is devastated from the terrific forces unleashed in the combat that just took place. All of the doors out of it- and there are several- are sheathed in _walls of force._

“Interesting,” muses Baron Lillamere.

“They’re probably trying to protect something,” Alcar says.

“Or keep something _out,_ maybe,” suggests Lillamere.

Alcar tries to bust through by main strength, but the _wall of force_ rebuffs him. Lillamere casts _xorn movement_ from a scroll, then uses his powers as an argent savant to _unravel_ the _wall of force._ He pokes his head through- a large cavern, clearly shaped by the bile oozes. He steps cautiously the rest of the way through the cave.

The bile ooze lurking there sprays a terrific splash of acid over him. He screams, staggering back.

Bennng comes up through the ground beneath Lillamere. The baron doesn’t have enough time to react as the xorn’s huge maw crunches down around his waist. The force is terrific, and Lillamere is stunned as it shakes him bodily.

Fortunately for him, the ooze’s caustic spray also dissolves the door; the rest of the party immediately see the situation.

Gerontius backpedals. “You know what to do!” he calls to Inoke and Alcar.*

“I think I’ll let you handle this one,” Inoke says to the angel.

“My job, huh?” Alcar smiles and invokes a _miracle,_ creating a _polar ray_, and following it up with a bevy of different quickened attack powers. Jibber Junior, unexpectedly, follows him into the breach, unleashing an _energy stun,_ laughing.

“Oh hell,” sighs Inoke, and _expands_ to huge size before lumbering into the fray.

***

At the bottom of the multiverse, on the Negative Energy Plane, the Fortress of Conclusion strains to contain the incredible forces flowing through it, drawn to the Wand of Orcus like iron filings to a magnet. The entire plane is vibrating, ringing like a bell, in a sense. Never before have such forces been agitated to such a fever pitch. Near the borders of the plane of Water, huge slabs of crystallized salt shatter and begin disintegrating as the anti-winds silently howl, tearing down everything they touch. Elsewhere in the nowhere, a long line of powerful incorporeal undead are torn apart by the very vibrations. Anywhere that standing portals exist, the forces at work tear them to pieces as geometries shift. 

Within the Fortress of Conclusion itself, the party of planar adventurers clings together, trying not to be torn apart from each other and whipped out into the blackness of the Void as the walls of the Fortress slowly begin to decay and the negative energy without begins to breach within. Zarthos falls, spinning towards the edge- only to be snatched up at the last moment like Kerthrelle. Both of them are nearly spun free from the Fortress by the tremendous forces roaring all around them.

At the center of it all, drawing those forces like a lightning rod, is the Wand of Orcus. Withering power radiates, stronger and stronger from it, causing the very air to ripple. Merely to look at it makes the heroes’ eyes tear, their vision blur. To approach it is to risk death. 

“We have to get out of here!” shouts Kerthrelle.

“We can’t just leave that here!” Lady Janis shouts back.

Behind the Wand, in the raging storm of negative energy, a face seems almost to be coalescing.

Zarthos staggers forward towards the apparatus holding the Wand of Orcus in place. The tempest of power flings him away helplessly. He struggles to his feet. “I think it’s time to go,” he calls to his friends.

“Not with that in there!” Lady Janis cries again. She rushes forward with a bellow, lowering her head and putting all of her strength into it. Pushing her way through the resistance, she reaches the apparatus and swings _Fiendbane_ at it with all her might, but her blade rebounds harmlessly. It sizzles and emits foul, blue-black smoke where it hit the device. 

With a strangled cry, she drops her blade and thrusts her hand at the Wand of Orcus, grasping it. In the single instant she has before the Wand slays her, she rips it free and casts it down.

Lady Janis of Aris dies, her soul consumed. Yet there is no more noble sacrifice that anyone could have made, ever.

***

Beyond the veil of existence, the echo that is all that remains of Acererak howls silently, helplessly, as the opening that was starting to dilate at the bottom of the multiverse is abruptly severed shut.

_So close!_ the dark spirit rages. _I was so close! Only seconds more, and I would have been free again- and I would have been able to achieve my apotheosis, able to become the entire plane and all undead!

Now something terrible is happening. The Negative Energy Plane cannot remain as it was. It is moving, its orbit changing, and the few portals to it that I might reach will not go with it. Until now, I had hope that I might somehow return. Now, the plane itself may disintegrate, or change so much that I cannot even recognize it. 

Now- now there is no hope for me!_

***

Inside Bile Mountain, the party spends a few moments healing wounds and tending sore spots before they continue looking for their real enemies- the Bile Lords. Since it seems logical that the areas sealed by _walls of force_ hold something valuable or interesting, the party starts checking them out. A couple only hold rubble and debris, but after _disintegrating_ another of the _walls of force_, the party finds a chamber that is a little bit more interesting.

Dominating the chamber are huge and disturbing paintings on each wall. They seem to depict some sort of mad, yellow-red eye at the center of a web of mystical runes and glyphs. A great deal of rubble is strewn about the chamber. Some of it appears to be the remains of large stone furnishings, such as a bed and a chair. Little blue beetles crawl over the rubble and even on the painted walls.  

“Well, this is certainly interesting,” Chakar says. He motions for some of the more arcane-oriented members of the group to examine things. 

After a few moments, Lillamere, Alcar and Blaze all come to a startling conclusion. Despite how locked down Bile Mountain is against such things, the runes and magic symbols in the chamber seem to involve divinations. After some deeper examination, they determine that whoever made the runes and glyphs can probably use them to divine inside the room.

_That should be okay, though,_ Lillamere sends across the telepathic link that the party shares. We’re all [/i]mind blanked,_ right?_

“Hell no,” Alcar snorts. “I want these bastards to see me coming.”

“Crap, here, I’ll cast one on you,” Lillamere offers.

“Were you not listening?” Alcar retorts. “In fact...” He turns to face one of the eyes, and glares directly at it. “YOU COWARDS!!” he hollers. “Yeah, I’m talking to YOU!! Come on out and fight us! We ain’t scared of you! In fact, I think you’re scared of us! We killed you once, we’ll do it again!! I EAT COLE SLAW, BITCHES!! Bring it on!! I’M WAITING FOR YOU!!!!” Spittle flies from his mouth as the angel rants. “We’re going to kill all of you, and your damn King of Bile, _and_ your damn Queen of Guts!! SO QUIT WASTING OUR TIME AND GET DOWN HERE!!!”**

“Whoops,” says Blaze.

Alcar turns to his friends with fire in his eyes. “You probably ought to get ready.”

_*Next Time:*_ Alcar’s Diplomacy!


*The bile oozes do lots of equipment-destruction and stunning, so the party used Alcar because he was immune to acid and Inoke (with _iron body_ he could be immune to con damage and stunning) to destroy them back.

**In my campaign, some characters gain Wyrd over time. Wyrd reduces the severity of critical hits and fumbles on you, and you can spend a Wyrd to have fate step in and lend a hand. Well, since this was the end game, Alcar did just that. Only he turned it up to 11. In the end, this shortened the entire _Beyond Bile Mountain_ adventure considerably, probably by as much as 12 sessions.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman (Oct 3, 2008)

the Jester said:


> In my campaign, some characters gain Wyrd over time. Wyrd reduces the severity of critical hits and fumbles on you, and you can spend a Wyrd to have fate step in and lend a hand. Well, since this was the end game, Alcar did just that. Only he turned it up to 11. In the end, this shortened the entire _Beyond Bile Mountain_ adventure considerably, probably by as much as 12 sessions.




Now that's what I call proactive adventuring!


----------



## the Jester (Oct 6, 2008)

Horbin and Thrush gaze with awe, and not a little trepidation, at the hundreds of miles of _missing ocean and island_ where the northwestern tip of Pesh used to be. 

“Well,” says Thrush. “Well, well. What do you make of it, Horbin?”

The bishop of western Dorhaus purses his lips. “I’ve never seen, or even heard of, anything like this before. Clearly, it’s the work of the Bile Lords.”

”Probably of their King,” Thrush opines, “and maybe their Queen of Guts.”

_And the others aren’t responding over the telepathic link,_ Horbin adds over that self-same link. _Which means that either they’re dead, or, more likely, cut off inside of Bile Mountain._

_Yeah,_ Thrush agrees, _but _where_ is the mountain? I’d guess it went with the rest of northwestern Pesh, wherever it is._

Horbin studies the scene intently. _How do we find it? Our best guess is that the effect that seals Bile Mountain from divinations and teleportation is some kind of epic magic. We probably can’t counter it._

“I don’t like being helpless,” Thrush says aloud. “I’m worried about Sybele- and the rest of our friends.”

Horbin sighs. “You aren’t the only one,” he answers. 

***

The next wave comes from above. Enraged by Alcar’s taunting, the King of Bile has dispensed with the niceties of luring the party deeper into his lair. Instead, he takes a few moments to assemble a deadly strike team. With Tearless beholders in the lead, _disintegrating_ a new passage from near the top of Bile Mountain to near the bottom, a massive strike force begins their passage down. A cadre of Axons, Axels and Axars- the Bile Lords’ deadly nimblewright servitors- is the bulk of the first wave, but not far behind are a group of strange outsiders captured on the plane of Concordant Opposition- creatures called concordant killers, who have been subverted, corrupted and converted into gutlings to serve the terrible Queen. Moving through the tainted stone walls like ghosts, a group of bile-tainted maulgoths hurries to joint the fight as well. 

When they arrive, the hammer falls. 

But if they are the hammer, our heroes are the anvil- able to take the blow, absorb it, and reply with a mighty outpouring of weapons, spells and fists. Jibber Junior scatters the concordant killers with a psionic _sonic cone_, while Alcar triggers a long-dormant _greater contingency_ that Orbius placed on him, gaining the benefits of an extended _Marius’ double actions_. He uses a _miracle_ to ape a _Marius’ deconstruction_, shattering an Axis, but one of the Axars quickly casts _reconstruction,_ bringing it back instantly! Simultaneously, dozens of deadly eye rays fire and find their mark in various members of the party, dealing withering damage, while Gerontius finds himself abruptly bathed in an _antimagic cone_ that significantly reduces his prowess. 

Then the maulgoths come, quite literally, out of the walls, lashing with tentacles that can inflict telling wounds- if only they connect. Even with his magic suppressed, Gerontius manages to flip and tumble away, while Chakar simply steps aside, twists away and vaults over the maulgoths to twist another Axon across his hip and hurl it away. Then Gerontius tumbles back in and begins showing the bilestone maulgoths just how good he is with his daggers. 

Baron Lillamere creates a _crushing fist of spite_ that begins pounding down, while Gerontius manages at last to get out of the antimagic and begins taking nimblewrights apart with amazing facility. 

Meanwhile, one of the concordant gutlings creates a _wall of force_ to trap Sybele away from the others. It is a wasted efforts, however, as a _disintegrate_ from her brings it down, and then she leaps up and over, crashing down on an Axis and one of the concordant gutlings. With a gleeful laugh, she lays about her with her sword before jumping away and pulling her bow back out. Arrows sing, landing in beholder after beholder. 

The adventurers turn their focus to these exceptionally deadly beholders. Corrupted by pure evil, with their intestines dangling behind them as they float along, these ghastly- and somehow identical- beholders are the most dangerous threat present. In less than thirty seconds, many of the nimblewrights have fallen, as have three of the concordant killers. JJ takes a moment to _temporal accelerate_ and speed _up_ one of the beholder-made shafts in the ceiling to see if there are more things coming.

Oh yes there are.

No time passes for the others; JJ is in one place, then in another. But his voice sounds over the din of combat via the telepathic link, loud and clear to all of them: _Bile Lords! And other things! More stuff is coming!_

Lillamere curses as he unleashes a pair of _disintegrates_ on one of the beholders, destroying it. “Dammit, Alcar!”

“Good!” Alcar roars. “COME ON OUT, YOU BASTARDS!! AND BRING ANGELFIRE WHILE YOU’RE AT IT!!!!”*

The maulgoths prove able to _heal_ themselves if given even an instant’s respite, and our heroes are forced to do a little healing on themselves as well. Still, at least for the moment, the advantage is theirs. 

_But how long can we keep this up?_ wonders Blaze to himself. _I’m using up spells quickly, and so is everyone else. Will we run out of resources before the Bile Lords run out of monsters to throw at us?_ He curses as one of his spells fails to penetrate one of the beholders’ spell resistance. It is a very valid question, he realizes- especially when not every spell can find its way home on its target. He casts another pair of useless spells and screams profanity in frustration.

Chakar leaps at one of the beholders, trying to grapple it, but it slaps him away with its _telekinesis_ ray. He rolls to his feet- as a _death_ ray stabs at him. Fortunately, he is _death warded_, but the next beam is a _slow_ ray that negates the _haste_ spell running on him. 

On the other hand, one of the maulgoths dies from Gerontius’ lingering damage. The party takes heart- those things have proven to be quite tough! Wankerman slays the second maulgoth! Now the party renews its focus on the beholders, whose eye rays are so dangerous, and Lillamere destroys another of them with a volley of _disintegrates_. Now only one tearless beholder remains- along with two concordant gutlings and several of the nimblewrights. 

JJ is chagrined to find his _electric stun_ has no effect on the beholder or the concordant gutling that he hits.

Then Sybele changes the battlefield. The enemy has laid down several _walls of force_ to control the battle; she counters with a very powerful psionic variant of _disintegrate_ that she has recently discovered: _dangerous disintegrate_. It obliterates a huge sphere, destroying a large hemispherical area from around the entire group! The remaining enemies are blasted with psionic power. A shocking volume of stone and debris simply vanishes, leaving only a fine yellowish powder as a residue in a 30’ radius. 

Inoke slams a sweeping strike into one of the gutlings and the last beholder with immense force, and both of them fall to the blow! Lillamere, meanwhile, _shape changes_ into an amethyst dragon and breathes a blast of force at the last remaining gutling, then hits it with a _disintegrate_ and blasts its jaw off! Wankerman follows this up with a bullywug breakdance, but unfortunately, he misses. Finally, JJ blasts it with a _crystal shard_ and destroys it!

Alcar, meanwhile, finishes off the last of the constructs. 

There is a moment of silence as our heroes try to catch their breath.

They only have six seconds.

_*Next Time:*_ The second wave!


*For those of you who have not been reading the epic story hour since the early threads, Angelfire was a templar of Coila who was in the party a couple of years ago. He/she changed sex more times than any other single pc, and was a kick-ass falchion wielding psychic warrior/cleric/templar. Last seen in the tpk when the party was slain by the Bile Lords, Angelfire was the one pc that Horbin was unable to resurrect. This was because she was already an undead gutling. Alcar and Angelfire hated each other, and almost killed in each other in Bile Mountain several times.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman (Oct 6, 2008)

You know, when this finishes, I'm really going to miss reading about these guys. The amount of damage they can dish out is just amazing.

But now - Bile Lords! We want the Bile Lords!


----------



## Knightfall (Oct 7, 2008)

Great stuff!


----------



## Nightbreeze (Oct 8, 2008)

_dangerous disintegrate? _

oh, come on! that's like saying warm fire, or wet water


----------



## the Jester (Oct 8, 2008)

Nightbreeze said:


> _dangerous disintegrate? _
> 
> oh, come on! that's like saying warm fire, or wet water




Hey, _I_ didn't name it. Blame the player!

But- if you look at the scan of Bile Mountain level 2- and you see the blue circle that runs from the eastern edge of room 2, over pretty much all of room 4 and the connecting hallway... _all of that_ was disintegrated by Sybele. In one blast.


----------



## Nightbreeze (Oct 8, 2008)

the Jester said:


> But- if you look at the scan of Bile Mountain level 2- and you see the blue circle that runs from the eastern edge of room 2, over pretty much all of room 4 and the connecting hallway... _all of that_ was disintegrated by Sybele. In one blast.






Me likes, yummy yummy 

Can you post the specifics of the spell? I would love to copy it into my campaign (for the NPCs, of course )


----------



## the Jester (Oct 8, 2008)

Nightbreeze said:


> Can you post the specifics of the spell? I would love to copy it into my campaign (for the NPCs, of course )





It's a 9th-level psionic power. omrob prolly has all the details- he was Sybele's player.


----------



## the Jester (Oct 30, 2008)

It is only seconds after the fall of the last nimblewright. Our heroes are alert, and turn immediately when they first hear the next wave of enemies coming. 

This is a terrible, terrible mistake- for the next wave starts with doomsday medusas. All of our heroes resist petrification- but, unfortunately for them, it seems that nobody can fully resist the effects of the gaze.*

Vomit hounds- like a surreal cross between massively-muscled tigers and lithe, wingless black dragons- pour our, vomiting unholy acid at the party. One leaps onto Inoke, and the two of them commence with a ruthless, flailing melee. The other hounds leap forward, tearing into the party. Wankerman parries and jabs, Gerontius dodges and weaves, and Inoke stands like an immovable mountain. The doomsday medusas, meanwhile, back away to remain at range. 

Blaze ducks back, terribly wounded by the mere sight of the doomsday medusas. He casts a _projected image_ so that he has a safe way to fight, and then proceeds to blast the medusas with _polar rays._ His eyes widen when JJ nearly succeeds at driving one of the vomit hounds insane with his psychic powers, and Blaze instantly begins casting a heightened _phantasmal killer_ at the same one. _If their minds can be shattered, I can destroy them,_ the metamagician thinks. The vomit hound survives his phantom’s attack, but he almost got it. This opens up many opportunities...

_Crack!_ Inoke finally slays one of the vomit hounds. “These things are _tough!_” he exclaims. There is a chorus of agreement. Most of the party have closed their eyes, rather than risk another triple gaze attack. With Blaze’s telepathic directions, they have a relatively good sense of placement, so Inoke- guided by his gnomish friend- charges another of the hounds.

Another, far larger vomit hound drops down from above. _Watch out!_ JJ cries telepathically. _There’s a Bile Lord coming!_ 

_Hopefully more than one,_ Gerontius thinks back sardonically.

The party is fighting along the curved sides of the void created by Sybele’s _dangerous disintegrate._ Now Inoke gives another of the vomit hounds a mighty backhanded blow, and knocks it through the hole at the bottom where the blast broke through into the large chamber ending in the river of bile far below. The vomit hound flails mightily on the way down and then vanishes in a terrific splash of foul fluid! Inoke grins. 

Alcar, meanwhile, flies forward to engage the Bile Lord- Amnor- that is just now descending from one of the beholder-carved shafts in the ceiling to show himself. But he comes to a swift halt when he spies Amnor’s mount: a huge, blue, glowing camel-like beast with a long, flexible snout. 

_Oh no,_ Alcar thinks. He recognizes the beast. _That’s some kind of disenchanter. But it’s much, much bigger than any description of it that I’ve ever heard..._

Call it a disjoiner. Or rather- them. For three more of them drop down behind the first. 

Alcar telepathically utters an expletive, cries a mental warning and then casts a pair of _bestow curses_ at one of them- and manages to affect it with both of them! Suddenly one of the disjoiners is torn by crippling indecision about half of the time, and when it can make up its mind to act, nothing seems to quite go its way. Alcar can see no alternative but to immediately launch a full attack on it.

As the angel of Bless surges forward, Gerontius, ironically, hangs back to serve as the healer via scrolls and wands. Through sheer force of personality, he is able to overcome his lack of knowledge or skill with prayers and god stuff- and still get the items to work for him!

Then the two doomsday medusas are back in the fray, each hitting Alcar with a targeted _greater dispel magic_ and eliminating several of his buffs. Behind the medusas and disjoiners, Amnor falls back up the hole in the ceiling after likewise hitting Blaze with a targeted _greater dispel magic_. The gnome ejaculates in surprise and re-casts his _bile shield._

Baron Lillamere blasts a volley of _seeker missiles_ at Amnor, but they crash into the Bile Lord’s _shield_ with a visible flare of eldritch energy. The baron curses, then gulps as the three non-cursed disjoiners move forward. 

Inoke hesitates at the sight of them. “I don’t know that I can do anything against those!” he cries, falling back a few paces.

“Of course you can!” exclaims Lillamere. “You’re _Inoke!_”

“...damn it,” Inoke mutters. He takes a deep breath- and charges in. He annihilates one of the disjoiners with his _mace of light_ and leaves one of the doomsday medusas very much the worse for wear. A glance to the side shows that Alcar has finished off the cursed one, and together the two of them set to work on the other two disjoiners. Blaze blasts one with a _phantasmal killer- prismatic spray_ combo, and JJ sends an _energy stun_ against them as well. They stagger back as the heroes pour a quick and overwhelming torrent of attacks and spells at them, never giving them a chance to attack. In short order, the other two are slain.

Gerontius and Wankerman fly towards the shaft to pursue Amnor the Bile Lord- and fall right into a maximized _cone of cold!_ Gerontius twists out of the way completely, but Wankerman takes some damage (though he, too, avoids the worst of it).

A vomit hound springs at Wankerman, and although he has a _stoneskin_ up, he takes tremendous damage despite it.** The hound gets a hold of his knee and pulls savagely, knocking him from his feet. He staggers up after initiating his _anarchic gaze_ ability, and thanks to his now shifting form, the hound misses him when it bites at him.

The doomsday medusas step out again, and this time one of them casts its _greater dispel magic_ at Wankerman. “Hey!” he shouts, as both his _mind blank_ and _stone skin_ spells are destroyed. 

_I do NOT want to look at those things directly,_ Blaze thinks. He casts a _major image_ and surrounds himself with walls in a small siege engine. Before him is a periscope. Hoping that this will work- that he’ll be able to see without risking petrification- he looks through it.

Just in time to see Wankerman turn to stone.

_*Next Time:*_ The epic battle continues!


*Fort save fails, you’re turned to save. Fort save succeeds, 10d6 damage and 1d4 dex damage. We’re playing for keeps here; this is the end game. 

**This particular full attack did 57 hp over three hits _after_ _stoneskin_ was factored in.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman (Oct 30, 2008)

Um, like, wow.

I take it everyone was aware that this was the last time you'd be playing with these particular characters?

This does mean, too, that I'm expecting to see some serious counter-measures pulled out by the party in the next few rounds. Such a shame that Lester, Horbius and some of the others couldn't be present for this climatic battle!


----------



## the Jester (Oct 30, 2008)

Tallarn said:


> Um, like, wow.
> 
> I take it everyone was aware that this was the last time you'd be playing with these particular characters?
> 
> This does mean, too, that I'm expecting to see some serious counter-measures pulled out by the party in the next few rounds. Such a shame that Lester, Horbius and some of the others couldn't be present for this climatic battle!




Yeah- we kept talking about how it was the endgame, and we played pretty loosey-goosey with a few rule calls and such.

But for the record, by "endgame" I mean "last few sessions." I wanna say that we're still 3-4 sessions from the finish.


----------



## Knightfall (Nov 4, 2008)

Keep it coming.


----------



## the Jester (Nov 21, 2008)

Incredible energies are hurled back and forth. Powerful transmutation take place and are broken in an instant. Wankerman petrifies; a _break enchantment_ later, he is back in the fight while Blaze holds the line with a series of _polar rays_ and _fireballs_ while Lillamere erects another _wall of force_ to help control the battlefield. Gerontius grits his teeth and flings himself into a deadly duel with one of the doomsday medusae. His ability to trick it concerning where his attack is coming from is amazing; he throws everything into it, slipping another stab past its guard, cutting under its reaction and then hooking a blade it didn’t even see into its side. It hisses, and its eyes make pain shoot through him; so he leaps in, stabbing at its eyes, and finally fells one of them!

A group of headless tumbles in, Amnor the Bile Lord not far behind him, his wounds already mostly healed. The headless explode into action, attacking the party with incredible speed and ferocity. Amnor, on the other hand, _disintegrates_ Lillamere’s wall and then unleashes a powerful necromantic spell at Chakar and Lillamere, but fails to penetrate either of their defenses. The Bile Lord gnashes his teeth and grimaces.

Meanwhile, the alpha vomit hound tenses and leaps towards Baron Lillamere, acidic venom drooling from its sharp-fanged maw. But the sorcerer-king waves his hand and evokes a _wall of force_ before it reaches him, and it gives a tiger scream of frustration as it slams into the invisible barrier. 

Zurtneg the Bile Lord appears from one of the shafts that the beholders _disintegrated_ through the ceiling. With a _wish_, he collapses the _wall of force,_ and the vomit hound alpha gives a triumphant howl. Baron Lillamere raises a hand to erect a new one, but a headless tumbles in and, with a swift chop to the neck, smashes his vocal cords! Lillamere gives out a choked groan as he stumbles back. Amnor, meanwhile, fires a _disintegration_ ray at Wankerman’s spear, but narrowly misses.

Chakar pounces on Amnor. Despite the foul miasma surrounding the Bile Lord, the monk wrestles him to the ground, wraps his legs around the foul enemy’s neck, and pins him! Amnor cries out in frustration as his _ego whip_ slides harmlessly off of Chakar’s _mind blank._

As the vomit hound alpha gathers its legs to spring at Lillamere again, Sybele blasts the surrounding area to dust with another _dangerous disintegrate,_ and the alpha drops into the bile pool below with a wail. Several headless drop, too, but those close enough to the walls have no trouble slowing their fall. A _wall of force_ from Zurtneg flashes into existence, momentarily separating Alcar from the others, and a rush of headless pour at him, dragging him from his feet. 

Inoke charges, bellowing, to his rescue, laying a sweeping strike across his foes that scatters headless everywhere. The alpha hound spews more vomit at Sybele and JJ; They respond with a pair of massive, psionic _crystal shards_ that push it back and deal telling wounds to it. Alcar and Inoke push the remaining headless away with great blows of their maces, and then Alcar rises to his feet and rushes the nearest door, kicking it in. 

“Brother, help me!” screams Amnor, who is still pinned down by Chakar. Zurtneg wheels and sneers at the sight. 

“Fool,” he hisses, and casts a terrible spell at Chakar. The monk screams as his flesh begins to flow and melt like wax. He can’t maintain his hold on Amnor; the other Bile Lord squirms free and the two Bile Lords beat a momentary retreat up the shafts.

“They’re getting away!” shouts JJ.

“They’re probably getting more reinforcements,” replies Blaze.

Gerontius springs towards the struggling Chakar, whipping out a _wand of restoration_. Simultaneously, Inoke and Alcar spring at the vomit hound alpha. Inoke brushes aside the last standing headless as he barrels forward, and they tear into the alpha with great force! More _crystal shards_ from JJ and Sybele smash into the beast; finally, Inoke’s last blow crushes its head and it falls. 

Chakar struggles to his feet. “My gods,” he gasps, “what _was_ that?”

“A spell called _fleshflow_,” replies Blaze grimly.

“I hope that never happens again!”

Blaze just nods. 

“Keep sharp! Here comes the next wave!” cries JJ, as more headless and a formidable-looking nimblewright begin pouring in.

***

Back up. Back up, just a few short moments. Back up, and climb up. Up, far above the fight that has already begin, far above our heroes, high in Bile Mountain’s warren of tunnels, Tamult the Bile Lord sits silently in the Scarlet Cage within the Chamber of Penance. He is here to contemplate the folly of his ambition to replace the King of Bile. He will remain here until the King of Bile feels that he has learned a sufficient lesson.

That could be a very long time. 

The last time a Bile Lord was consigned to the Scarlet Cage, he rested there for millennia. 

Tamult broods. A few thousand years will certainly teach him a lesson, but a lesson in hate. And in caution. _Show no ambition until you are ready to move. Walk alone. Once you start, you are committed to the death._

The last time a Bile Lord was consigned to the Scarlet Cage was before the Queen of Guts came to Bile Mountain. Now, he will not be surprised if the King gives him to the Queen to be made into a gutling as punishment. Even he shudders at that thought. 

_She has changed everything. Everything is different. She has brought a strange, ill dynamism to our King. He has become erratic. That is why he must be replaced._

Tamult silences his inner voice as the door to his chamber slides open. Chemnu stands before him.

“The adventurers are coming,” Chemnu hisses. There is no need to specify which adventurers they are. Tamult knows all too well. “The King offers to commute your sentence, if you will fight them.”

Surprised, Tamult replies, “Of course.” And he exults: _My moment may yet come._

***

The Axenscion Prototype- the most powerful, fastest, deadliest nimblewright ever designed- dances its way through the group and deals an unbelievable amount of damage to them in only a single second. Then it whirls and prepares to do it again. Inoke is wounded badly enough that he is forced to withdraw for the moment; he is far from the only one. The party falls back away from the massive, open spaces created by the mix of _dangerous disintegrate_ blasts and the great bile ooze cavern, returning to more cramped quarters.

A flight of aags rushes in from above, striking suddenly. 

_!_ thinks Inoke. _That nimblewright is powerful!_

_I think it might be more powerful than the Bile Lords,_ agrees Alcar.

The prototype nimblewright fires a pair of _rays of unmaking_ at Inoke. He screams, but survives.*

Then there is a terrible, loud bellowing sound from beyond one of the walls. Sounds of combat- loud, dramatic combat- boom from behind a door.

_Now what?_ wonders Blaze.

Gerontius erects a _prismatic wall_ to block off the Axenscion Prototype. And then the sounds of fighting get much more dramatic, as the wall and door from behind which the racket is coming suddenly explode inward as something very large, loud and, most of all, _cold_, comes through.

_*Next Time:*_ A nice surprise for our heroes! 


*He made both saves and therefore took only 124 points of damage. Had he failed both saves, he would have taken 964 points of damage instead!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman (Nov 21, 2008)

You've got a bit of duplicated text:



> Gerontius springs towards the struggling Chakar, whipping out a wand of restoration. Simultaneously, Inoke and Alcar spring at the vomit hound alpha. Inoke brushes aside the last standing headless as he barrels forward, and they tear into the alpha with great force! More crystal shards from JJ and Sybele smash into the beast; finally, Inoke’s last blow crushes its head and it falls.
> Simultaneously, Inoke and Chakar spring at the vomit hound alpha. Inoke brushes aside the last standing headless as he barrels forward, and they tear into the alpha with great force! More crystal shards from JJ and Sybele smash into the beast; finally, Inoke’s last blow crushes its head and it falls.




But brilliant stuff! You must have been tearing your hair out trying to keep a track of all this stuff. How did you manage to, ahem, manage all these different monsters?


----------



## Nightbreeze (Nov 22, 2008)

Ouch...the amount of damage flying on that battlefield must have been terrifying. Love your bile-guts theme. Pretty disgusting, sure, but it makes up for memorable enemies.


----------



## Knightfall (Nov 22, 2008)

the Jester said:


> *He made both saves and therefore took only 124 points of damage. Had he failed both saves, he would have taken 964 points of damage instead!



Ouch. 

Splendid stuff as usual, J. It makes me want to update my own SH.


----------



## the Jester (Dec 14, 2008)

Just a note for my players: Feel free to investigate the "No-Player-Lookee" thread for 3e. It's here, and includes all kinds of monsters and stuff that you guys faced, going back to when the orcish party was not quite orcish any more. 

You can find it here.


----------



## the Jester (Dec 27, 2008)

Tallarn said:


> How did you manage to, ahem, manage all these different monsters?




To answer this, I just have to say- I spent a great deal of time prepping monsters I really liked with cool powers in the hopes that, in the chaos of everything, they'd stand out in my mind and their abilities and tactics wouldn't be too hard to deal with. 

Also, the late-3e monster stat block is brilliantly useful, and it was invaluable. Except where I had critters in the old format and ran out of time to update... 

As far as the psychology of the creatures- for instance, the dynamic within the evil faction involving Tamult (which the reader has just been made privy to), as well as, er, the "nice surprise" the next update includes for our heroes, and the presence of another potential ally that the party _never even saw-_ but who drew off certain elements of the enemy force- a dragon named Cirrus- were all things that I had to brainstorm very quickly once the 'calling out' happened. Basically, I already knew about these factors, but once the pcs issued their calling out, things developed quickly as most of the Bile Lords' forces moved from their usual posts to attack our heroes. Er... well... damn, I don't want to give away too much- I'm working on the next update and don't want to spoil anything else. But basically, since I already knew the personalities and circumstances involved, when the circumstances changed, the personalities reacted in the logical, obvious fashion. Hopefully, at least some of what I'm talking about will become clear shortly.


----------



## the Jester (Dec 27, 2008)

Back up again- but this time, not just a few minutes. Back up a few months, and back to the Material Plane- Cydra. But north, far north of where our heroes have journeyed. Go north to a frozen land of glaciers and seas half-frozen into slush, with great icebergs the size of mountains floating through the water. 

This zone of brilliant white ice and sapphire waters, like any other climate, has a host of life forms within it. The air, though cold, is not too cold for all life. Hoar hawks soar through it, riding cold air currents like their cousins ride thermals. They swoop and swirl over the sea, occasionally diving to take some smaller beast from the land below them. But they stay far away from the vast blue ice floe that dominates hundreds of square miles- the Floe of Chaffelliox. 

Very occasionally, a very young and brave hoar hawk will fly closer to the great floe. Almost without fail, the braveling will stay high above the weird ice, peering from raptor eyes at the strange, crystallized field below. Sometimes, they will even see Chaffelliox herself. But none is both brave enough and foolish enough to approach her. 

Chaffelliox is not to be trifled with. 

She is a great beast of marvelous power and inhuman power. She is of a race of creatures rare and wondrous, the chilblains. She is, in her own estimation, magnificent: far more beautiful than others of her kind. Far more powerful, having devoted decades to icecraft. She can shape the ice as she wills, and bring it to life. Her aura of frost is far colder than that of others of her kind. She is a clearly superior specimen.

Thus, the Bile Lords take her. Using agents prepared against (or immune to) cold, they capture the magnificent beast, shanghai her and haul her back to their dread lair- back to Bile Mountain. They slam her into a tight, constricted set of rooms and set guardians in place to teach her that she cannot escape. And then they make her the typical offer: serve. 

She rages. She refuses. She attacks, but the guardians were chosen with her in mind, and it quickly becomes apparent that she will perish if she persists. 

She retreats, and licks her wounds, and broods. 

Days later, the Bile Lords repeat their offer. She refuses again, violently, but they depart and the guardian beasts rear up in warning. 

She growls, and retreats to her new lair. 

Over the next weeks she fills it with as much ice and snow as she can, to make it more comfortable. She refuses to consider succumbing to the demands of the Bile Lords. She will starve first. She will die. She will...

She will bide her time, as long as she can, and if she must, she will die trying to break free.

Weeks more pass. Chaffelliox begins to despair. The Bile Lords and their servants never attack, never try to slay her. They want time and inevitability to wear her down. Even if she escaped, where is she? Is she somewhere where she can survive?

She steels herself. If she cannot overcome the Bile Lords herself, if she cannot escape the guards set over her, she _will_ die trying. When the moment is right- when they show weakness. 

But when their moment of weakness comes, it is much more than she had ever hoped for.

As Chaffelliox shapes more ice beasts to amuse herself, a sudden, deep rumbling shudders through the mountain. Chaffelliox’ senses are sharp, and specialized for snowy and icy environments. She recognizes, instantly, that _something_ has just inflicted serious structural damage on the place. There is a tumult of activity; creatures shouting, _her guardians being deployed elsewhere-_

That is all she needs. As soon as they are out of sight, Chaffelliox roars, sending her ice beasts ahead of her, and begins smashing her way through the very walls that confine her. 

***

Meanwhile, up above, a group of powerful servants of the Bile Lords find themselves unable to join the fight. They are under sudden attack by another, very powerful entity that is an unwilling guest of the Bile Lords. 

Cirrus, the cloud dragon. 

She has been here far longer than Chaffelliox, but she is also far more patient. She has lived millennia already, after all. 

When the servants of the Bile Lords realize that she is loose, that she has decided to strike even though it means her certain doom, they are caught in an agonizing moment of indecision. The King has commanded everyone to attack below, and he is completely unforgiving of disobedience. Yet, to leave her behind them, able to attack from behind or cut off their retreat-

Indecision on the part of the Bile King’s servants, in this case, gives Cirrus the crucial moment she needs to seize the advantage. She strikes from surprise, remaining unobtrusive by hiding while polymorphed into a humanoid form. Her ambush begins with a combination of twinned and heightened _stun rays_ and a _sphere of ultimate destruction._ 

Which also allows her to begin a rather brutal remodel of the battleground.

***

When Chaffelliox smashes through the wall and into view, it is immediately obvious that she is fighting against the bile-tainted monstrosities that seek our heroes’ destruction. The enemy of my enemy and all that; without exchanging a word, the adventurers and the chilblain frost lord are sudden allies. 

The enemy is momentarily abashed at the sudden, and cold, arrival of Chaffelliox. Blaze takes advantage of this to use a quickened _displacement_ and a _horrid wilting.[/a] Unfortunately, the Axenscion Prototype shrugs it off and fires another pair of null blasts at Inoke. The great warrior screams in agony and falls to his knees, but he knows that his final destiny is yet to be fulfilled. 

“Inoke!” cries Wankerman. He tries to move to aid his friend, but a tide of aags swoops at him, pressing him back. He stabs and parries as best he can, but they sweep over him. Inoke staggers towards him; with a roar, he smashes his mace across two of the aags in a sweeping strike, badly wounding both of them. They snarl, but before they return the favor, a mass of headless charge in, leaping to attack both of the warriors. 

The ultra-powerful nimblewright fires its null blasts at Inoke again. One strikes him; the other goes wide, obliterating a wall with a huge flash of light. 

That thing is going to kill us all, predicts Inoke. 

The party forms a line, slaying aags and headless monks left and right. Bodies are piling up in the room; Inoke already has one foot firmly planted in the ruin of an aag. 

Gerontius flits past the aags and headless, weaving just above a pair of massive, bat-like wings and then dodging beneath and between a set of legs. He tumbles out and springs into action, swinging Golemhammer, his construct-bane dagger at the Axenscion Prototype.

The construct parries his every attack.

*You might be right,* Gerontius replies grimly to Inoke. 

***

“Well,” Horbin the Holy sighs after a commune, “I can’t be sure that they’re in Bile Mountain, but I can tell you that none of their souls have transmigrated to the Outer Planes.”

“You mean they’re still alive,” Thrush replies. “Or- would their souls have transmigrated from Bile Mountain, or would they be trapped there by all the tricky mountain-sealing magic they use?”

Horbin purses his lips. “That would be hard to pull off,” he says, “but theoretically not impossible. But it’s safe to say that it’s not the case here. Remember, we all came back thanks to Ten Buck Tom after we all died in the mountain before.”

“Good point...” Thrush sighs. I should have gone with them, he thinks. Sybele... please be safe.

***

Safe? In Bile Mountain?

She’s alive, anyway, and throwing crystal shards left and right. JJ follows up with an energy stun. Even though the aags can’t be stunned, the blast can certainly blow them apart. 

Chakar is dealing with the headless in his inimitable way: kicking, punching and throwing them until they can’t get up. The dwarven perfect master is at his finest, dancing through a melee that encompasses multiple rooms, chambers and shafts, and literally dozens of enemies. 

But the screams of Gerontius as the ultimate nimblewright slashes him over and over again are not encouraging. He tumbles back and away, but he is bleeding prolifically from four terrible cuts. Even his incredible skill at defense couldn’t stop its relentless assault. The halfling shakes his head. This thing is bad, bad news, he yells over the telepathic link. Don’t let it hit you!

Don’t let it shoot you with those null beams, either! cries Inoke. 

“Look out!” shouts Wankerman aloud. His voice betrays a sharp edge of fear. “It’s them!

“It’s the King and Queen!!”

Indeed- stalking onto the battlefield come the horrific royalty of the Bile Lords. Standing beside his horrific bride is a fifteen foot tall Bile Lord, with aged skin dripping thick blobs of bile. Scraggly bits of discolored hair sparsely pepper the withered dome of his head. He is supernaturally thin, all skin and bones, and scarcely looks like a living thing- but he is. A noxious cloud of foul yellowish vapor with a nauseating, piss-and-vomit stink surrounds him. Atop his head hangs a barbed crown of adamantine and mithral. Next to the King of Bile is his foul Queen- the Queen of Guts. She is twelve feet tall, a head shorter than her King. She looks like a female giant whose skin has been flayed off, leaving her bright red, glistening flesh exposed. Her intestines twitch and move of their own accord, dragging on the ground behind her and around her feet, yet seemingly never tangling her. Weird stinking fluids leak from her. Her eyes are pitch black. 

Alcar immediately casts a mass heal, though only Inoke and Gerontius need it badly. He is just in time, as the King of Bile fires a quickened disintegrate at Gerontius (who manages to dodge out of the way), then follows it up with a quickened destruction on him (he survives), and finally a hellball that explodes in the midst of the party. 

Maybe it won’t be the nimblewright after all, Inoke says dryly over the link.

***

Up top, the first wave of Cirrus’ opponents have fallen, and she takes a moment to cast a mass heal on herself and assess her situation.

I’m now fully healed, the cloud dragon thinks. Evidence suggests that the Bile Lords have more important things to do than deal with me at the moment. Which means that I can carve an escape route with my sphere of ultimate destruction. 

At her direction, the fuligin sphere drifts to the wall and starts to carve a passage outward. 

Cirrus muses on the injury to her dignity. They looted my hoard, she thinks. Her face hardens. They will pay. I must move quickly to secure my escape, and then do what I can to disable the Bile Lords’ defenses against whatever threat is attacking them.

She evokes a second sphere of ultimate destruction and sends it, smoothly disintegrating an adjacent hole, after the first one. Soon they break out into a foul outside. Cirrus frowns, bringing her disintegrationists to rest some 20’ from her. 

I’m on another plane, she recognizes at once. Very well. This complicates things.

To revenge, then. Both spheres of ultimate destruction begin sliding straight down through the floor, disintegrating twin shafts. 

***

Gerontius draws the prototype away from the rest of the party, but he has to keep moving very quickly so that it cannot get close enough to attack him more than once. This is quite dangerous, but it serves its purpose.

It gives Inoke an opening to charge the Queen of Guts. 

Before he has time to think about what a bad idea it probably is, the slayer of Asmodeus roars and unleashes an Inoke Special.

The Queen’s guts lash out, trying to tangle him as he rushes in, but he is wearing freedom of movement and he slips them off. She tears at his legs, wounding him a little, but not nearly enough.

*BAM!* His first blow lands solidly on the Queen’s arm. It cracks.

*BAM!!* His second blow takes her on the hip, shattering it. 

*BAM!!!* His third blow smasher her in the chest, and ribs nearly explode through her. 

*BAM!!!!* His fourth blow crashes into her face, crushing the front of her head. The Queen of Guts falls without a chance to act!

“AAAAHHH!!” screams the King of Bile is disbelief. “YOU! I will KILL YOU!!” he shrieks at Inoke. Then, to the Axenscion Prototype: “Quickly! Retrieve her, and take her to safety!!”

Inoke’s eyes widen. The Queen is regenerating! “Uh-oh,” he mutters. Quickly, he sends this over the link.

Chakar tumbles over to the splayed form of the Queen of Guts. “Your constructs are not taking her anywhere,” the dwarf taunts as he hoists her body up. 

*Next Time:* Is Chakar right? Will he keep the Queen out of the fight? Will our heroes survive the wrath of the King of Bile as his Axenscion Prototype?? And what will happen with those spheres of ultimate destruction?_


----------



## the Jester (Jan 26, 2009)

_This thing is incredible,_ thinks Gerontius, tumbling frantically around the ruins of the dungeons within Bile Mountain. The tremendous forces and multiple disintegrating effects unleashed have left the area with little resemblance to its previous form. Bits of rock and gravel pour from holes in the ceiling. Huge areas of floor are completely gone. 

The Axenscion Prototype breaks off its pursuit of Gerontius at its King’s command. It turns, unleashing _null blasts_ at Sybele and Alcar. Both of them scream; Sybele falls to her knees, and Alcar convulses in the air and nearly collapses to the ground. The nimblewright whizzes past them, intent on reaching the unconscious (but regenerating) Queen of Bile and rescuing her from Chakar. 

Chakar nearly pisses himself. _It’s going to kill me if I let it reach me,_ he thinks. By the time he’s had the thought, he has already activated his _boots of speed_ and snapped the Queen’s neck with a _rainbow strike._* He knows that the party cannot afford to let the Axenscion Prototype pull her away and bring her back into the fight. 

Then all he can do is brace himself as the construct flashes towards him.

Tamult the Bile Lord claws at Gerontius as he flies by, ripping furrows in his skin, and then starts to back away out of sight. “No you don’t!” Sybele cries, and with a quick motion she fires an arrow into his robe, stapling him to the floor. “You aren’t going anywhere, bad guy dude!” Then, she initiates her psionic ability to _control sound_, stopping the King of Bile from casting spells, or at least those with verbal components.

Inoke grits his teeth. He says, “I guess it’s time to get back to this f**king robot.” He mounts his flying harness- and he charges forward, unleashing an Inoke Special- a fully augmented _psionic lion’s charge_ mixed with a _heedless charge_ and everything else he can muster. He flies forward with a resounding battle cry and smashes his mace into the Prototype again and again. Two of the blows fail to do any real damage, but the other three smash it hard!** 

Meanwhile, the huge, chill form of Chaffelliox rears up and continues the battle’s tradition of rearranging the innards of Bile Mountain. She smashes a wall into rubble. Chunks of the ceiling collapse down. “DO NOT SEEK TO HINDER ME!!” she roars, a warning to all the other creatures present.

She confronts the King of Bile.

***

Most of the Bile Lords are not in sight, and several of them are still somewhat above the fray, still descending to enter the battle, accompanied by yet more of the mountain’s inhabitants that they have roused. They are thrown into sudden disarray by the arrival of the paired _spheres of ultimate destruction_ that plow into them from above. One of the beholders is immediately destroyed, while a hapless headless is annihilated by the other. This doesn’t stop the Bile Lords from entering the fray, but it does slow them down and draw away additional reinforcements. The remaining red-eye beholder suppresses the spheres with its antimagic ray, and the headless begin swarming up the shaft, climbing with amazing agility.

Unfortunately for them, they are met with a blast of frigid air: Cirrus’ breath weapon. Worse yet, the few that manage to hold on and attain the top find her in her true draconic form, her wrath splendid to behold. 

Except, of course, to the headless, for whom it is instead quite dreadful.

***

Baron Lillamere brings a _crushing fist of spite_ into being, and it smashes down at the Axenscion Prototype. The nimblewright evades at the last second, moving so fast that it’s just a blur. 

And then it unleashes _a thousand cuts_. It begins an incredibly graceful and deadly dance, drawing line after line of blood in our heroes as it dances around and weaves through them all, slicing Inoke again and again, Wankerman several times, Chakar twice- and then it switches tactics, grabbing the Queen’s body!

“NO!!” roars Chakar. The two struggle. The dwarf wraps his legs around the Queen of Guts. The nimblewright tries to wrench her free. They wrestle back and forth violently.*** Chakar hangs on grimly as the nimblewright tries to pull the body free. 

The King of Bile, meanwhile, casts a spell. Both Blaze and Lillamere recognize it- it’s an ancient spell, but one that is out of favor in the modern age: _vocalize_. Able to cast spells again, the King ignores Chaffelliox and starts to fly up one of the shafts that the beholders bored through the corrupted stone of the mountain. Tamult _shatters_ the arrow holding him in place and begins to follow.

“No way!” exclaims Blaze. Rushing to the bottom of the shaft, he turns and casts upward, catching both Tamult and the King of Bile in a _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_! Their fly spells fail, and Tamult falls to the ground with a startled cry! The King manages to hang on to the ledge above him.

“Let’s do this again,” Sybele says, and uses another stapling shot to prevent the King’s escape. 

The nimblewright finally rips the Queen away from Chakar. It springs away, though Chakar does give it a kick as it is moving away. Then it springs up one of the shafts, making good its escape.

Tamult sneers. “Fools, this will not help you!” He casts a _horrid wilting_ that nearly kills Blaze and heavily damages everyone else. 

“Yeah, well, that won’t help _you,_” Inoke retorts, flying in on his harness and performing another Inoke Special, this one on Tamult. The Bile Lord cannot withstand the attack, and Inoke crushes his chest. For good measure, he cleaves on the King of Bile. _We’ve got to finish this before the Axenscion Prototype returns,_ he sends urgently over the telepathic link.

JJ, meanwhile, takes down the last headless with another _crystal shard,_ and then attempts another psionic attack- but the chaotic nature of his powers manifests at the worst possible moment, and instead of attacking the enemy, he finds himself blasting his own mind, as well as that of Wankerman. Wankerman collapses, stunned by the attack. Chakar springs forward and dumps a healing potion down his throat. 

And that’s about the point at which Alcar hurls one of the Belmax Corporation’s patented green slime grenades at the King of Bile. 

It’s a simple device, really: green slime enclosed in a glass globe. Dangerously easy to carry, dangerously easy to break- and very, very dangerous as a weapon. The King of Bile begins to turn into slime.

***

The Axenscion Prototype reaches Zurtneg and Chemnu, who are still descending cautiously, having left their lackeys to their fates with Cirrus, above. Their eyes widen as they see the condition of the Queen.

The nimblewright gently lays the Queen’s mangled, regenerating form on the ground. “Guard her,” it orders the Bile Lords, and turns and swiftly descends the shaft it rose from. 

“Things seem to be faring poorly,” observes Chemnu.

“Did you hear it?” screeches Zurtneg. “_It_ gave _us_ an order! How dare it!! I will scrap it when this is over!”

Chemnu ignores his brother, staring at the Queen’s body. Thinking. Calculating. Staring at opportunity.

***

_I can’t get through his resistance!_ Baron Lillamere shouts telepathically in frustration. Indeed, neither his _crushing fist of spite,_ nor the maximized _disintegrate,_ nor the _puncture_ manage to hurt the King in the slightest. 

“I will slay you for imprisoning me!” bellows Chaffelliox, hitting the King of Bile with a _cone of cold._ 

The King winces, tugging at the arrow pinning him for half an instant before deciding on a more immediate approach to all of his problems, starting with a _finger of death_ at Inoke.

It shatters off of Inoke’s _death ward._ 

The King gnashes his teeth, but then fires a quickened chained _disintegrate_ to annihilate first the arrow holding him and then a layer of ground. He drops down to the same level as the party, and then casts a quickened _fireball_ directly on himself, burning the slime away.

_That’s a pretty good counter to the slime,_ Alcar admits. 

Our heroes close in on the King of Bile- but the Axenscion Prototype closes in, simultaneously, on them.

_*Next Time:*_ The finale!! 


*This was a coup de grace

**427 points of damage came out of those three hits.

***They actually tied on their grapple checks, and we had to stop and look up what happened... defender wins!


----------



## the Jester (Feb 23, 2009)

Inoke and Gerontius move in to flank the King of Bile. The stink of ancient evil that rises from their foe almost chokes them. Gagging, Inoke strikes with all his might, invoking the _greater contingency_ that Orbius had cast upon him weeks before to trigger a _Marius’ double actions_. He unleashes his full fury against the King of Bile, hammering him over and over again and pulverizing both of his hamstrings. And then Gerontius steps in, operating with the kind of precision that only he has, stabbing, slicing and slashing with his daggers. 

And he unseams the King of Bile from nave to crotch.

The King collapses forward with a little gasp and moves no more. 

“That’s not going to last!” shouts Alcar. He pulls forth an enormous gem that he had purchased previously for this purpose; and, hoping it is valuable enough to serve as the focus for it, he casts _soul bind_.

Immediately he feels a presence battling against him. Even dead, the King’s force of will is terrific. He will not be easily subdued. Alcar gasps and shudders as his spell fails. 

_I’ll try again,_ he sends over the telepathic link that the party shares. 

“Look out!” shouts Sybele. “It’s coming back!” She concentrates and blasts at the Axenscion Prototype with another _dangerous disintegrate_, but it is undaunted and keeps moving rapidly towards the party.

Alcar steps in its way.

***

Cirrus rends another headless into pieces. Her spheres are ruining huge swaths of the mountain below, already weakened by eons of bile exposure. The mountain shudders and she smiles at a distant sound of collapsing stone.

Her spheres are inexorable. She attains the open air outside, and is appalled to see the demiplane of bile all around her. _This place is an atrocity,_ she thinks. _I would like to see it destroyed, but I fear that it is beyond my power._ She cloaks herself from detection and circles the mountain.

***

Zurtneg’s prattling is just background noise to Chemnu. He ignores his brother completely, staring at the rapidly-healing Queen of Guts. 

_Failure is certain to mean oblivion,_ thinks Chemnu. 

And then he _disintegrates_ the Queen.

Unfortunately, he does not penetrate her spell resistance.

“Brother!” Zurtneg screeches. “What are you doing?!”

_Continuing to ignore you,_ Tamult thinks. And he casts another _disintegrate_ at the Queen.

This time he succeeds, and the Queen is reduced to dust.

“Brother!” gasps Zurtneg. “What have you done?!”

“I have just taken the crown,” replies Chemnu. “And _you_ will swear allegiance to me, brother. Now. Or face the consequences.”

***

The Axenscion Prototype is a whirlwind of blades. Alcar is forced back; JJ _bends reality_ to prevent him from being cut down. It is clear that it means to dance through the group, cutting all of them numerous times, but it is interrupted by Chaffelliox, who roars and charges into it, knocking it back and buying the rest of our heroes a brief respite. The two entities clash in a furious boil of blows, _frozen stares_ and icy blasts of breath. The mountain shudders as Chaffelliox smashes into a wall, and larger chunks of stone start to crash down around the battle, a huge pile blocking the rest of the party from the battle with the ultimate nimblewright.

_This is getting very, very ugly,_ Baron Lillamere sends over the noise. _We need to end this._

_I’m trying,_ Alcar snaps back telepathically. _If I can _soul bind_ the King of Bile, we’ve got this conflict in our pockets- literally. But his willpower is too strong, I can’t break him!_

_Maybe we can help,_ suggests Lillamere, and casts a maximized _wish_ to increase Alcar’s chances of successfully _soul binding_ the King. 

“What a great idea!” exclaims Blaze. “Why didn’t I think of that??” He shouts a _wish_ of his own, adding the press of his own will against the resistance of the party’s most terrible nemesis. He glances at the weakening Chaffelliox and adds, “We don’t have much more time! Anyone who can help, pour it on!”

Gerontius speeds in and snatches a scroll from Alcar. He reads another _wish_ off of it, adding yet more eldritch force to Alcar’s attempt at _soul binding._ Then JJ _bends reality_ again, calling out mentally, _This had better work- my mind is almost depleted!_

***

The Axenscion Prototype slashes and slashes and slashes, and Chaffelliox can feel the cold seeping out of her. Blazing heat is starting to invade her body; she knows that, for a chilblain, this is a _very_ bad sign. 

_It is killing me,_ she thinks grimly, and creates a pair of huge ice beasts to buy some time. _ The Bile Lords must be destroyed! Even if I die to achieve it, if these adventurers can destroy them, it will have been worth it!_

The nimblewright shatters her ice beasts in less than a second and advances, implacably, towards her. 

***

Sybele leaps aside as another chunk of rubble crashes down and tumbles down the slope she created with her _dangerous disintegrates_, splashing into the bile pool far below. She looks around wildly; it sounds like the party’s strange ally is faltering, and she knows that it can’t last long against the Prototype.

Then she stiffens for an instant, as a _sending_ reaches her. She recoils in disgust as she recognizes the voice.

Chemnu.

_I can end this, and I will let you all go. Just promise that you will not interfere._

She yells back, both mentally and aloud, “F**K THAT!!” Over the link, she relates the message that she just received. Everyone is in agreement: this will end, all right- but nobody is letting anyone go. And the party still has plenty of interference left in it before all is said and done.

“Keep up the pressure on the King!” shouts Blaze. “Don’t let his soul get away!”

Alcar does not reply. His mouth is busy, uttering his prayers again, making the prescribed gestures across the great ebony gem that he is holding. Backed by multiple _wishes_, the gem suddenly blazes with an internal light.

“WE GOT HIM!!” screams Alcar.

***

Chaffelliox is faltering. Another few moments and she will be destroyed, she knows; she cannot withstand much more of the terrible attacks of the Axenscion Prototype.

Then the rubble behind her, blocking her from these strange new allies that she has found, disintegrates to dust, and a crystal hovers in the air- Sybele’s psicrystal, though Chaffelliox does not recognize it as such. The crystal shines with a clear white light, washing over Chaffelliox, and some of her wounds fade away. 

“We have taken their leader’s soul, and we want to take them all out!” shouts Sybele to the chilblain.

“Your actions speak louder than words,” Chaffelliox cries back.

Then the Axenscion Prototype unleashes another _thousand cuts_, knocking the immense chilblain from her feet and tearing out her throat before leaping over the great corpse and stabbing Chakar in the belly. He screams and the Axenscion Prototype whirls around, decapitating the Perfect Master in beautifully clean stroke. Chakar falls dead to the ground.

“NOOOO!!” cries Sybele. “DWARF DUDE!!!”* She rushes towards his body.

The Axenscion Prototype keeps dancing its way into the midst of our heroes until it finds Inoke, and it twirls about his, slicing him in several places, slashing Sybele across the stomach, cutting back across Inoke...

_It’s too fast!_ thinks JJ. _I can barely follow it with my eyes, much less target it!_

Alcar, Inoke and Gerontius move together, smashing into the prototype with all of their might. They hammer it with blow after blow, and many rebound from the thing’s defenses. Inoke unleashes a full Inoke Special, but- although it is clearly damaged- it is still standing. 

Blaze considers throwing a _disjunction_ at it, but realizes, _That will probably do more damage to us than it will to it, and right now we need every bit of luck, insight and enhancement we can muster._ Instead, he just grits his teeth and waits for the proper moment. 

The Prototype focuses on Inoke, in his _form of doom,_ who seems to be the biggest threat. It is single-minded in its determination and possessed of nearly unlimited destructive potential. The two of them are titans of battle, and neither one holds back.

Around them, the mountain shudders again, and more pieces of rubble start to rain down.

***

From outside, Cirrus guides her _spheres of ultimate destruction,_ doing more and more structural damage to Bile Mountain. She knows that she will not escape the demiplane; she has already discerned that the epic magic locking the place against planar travel is stronger than she can overcome. _But even if I die here,_ she thinks, _I will leave the Bile Lords without a home._ Savage, draconic joy fills her breast. The Bile Lords will rue the day they tried to capture her.

A slab of millions of tons of rock, sheared free from the rest of the mountain by her spheres, crashes free and rumbles down the side of the mount in a tremendous slide of breaking boulders, smashing into the ground below and bouncing around like the dice of the gods.

_Whatever happens,_ the cloud dragon thinks, _the Bile Lords will never forget my name._

***

Sybele reaches Chakar’s corpse. Swiftly, she grabs his head and presses it to the stump of his neck, closes her eyes, focuses- and uses _psionic revivify._

The dwarf’s eyes open as life returns to him. He gasps at the pain in his neck, and slumps back to unconsciousness- but another _empathic transfer_ brings him back around. Sybele then turns without a word and _disintegrates_ the ground beneath the Prototype. Caught off guard, it falls into the hole she creates. It will take it only a moment to clamber back out- but Sybele follows up immediately and uses another _dangerous disintegrate_ to annihilate a huge area just below the Prototype’s new location, hoping to knock it down into the bile pool far below.

Unfortunately, it flies. 

More rubble crashes down all around the party. _We need to clear this area, and very soon!_ Lillamere cries over the party’s link.

Inoke smashes the Axenscion Prototype, the two of them spinning around one another in the air and weaving a curtain of attacks that is almost impenetrable. Blood and metal and oil fly as each deals punishing blow after punishing blow to the other. Gerontius and Alcar swoop in to flank again, and the halfling cuts the nimblewright across its side. Smoke starts to rise from it.

Alcar tries a pair of quickened _bestow curses_, but neither one takes hold. Then, still in the grip of _Marius’ double actions,_ the angel attacks with all his might, smashing the Axenscion Prototype over and over again, landing one blow after another, until finally- at last- it drops!

Without waiting for an instant, Baron Lillamere _disintegrates_ its remains. “Let’s hope that is enough to keep the damned thing out of commission!” he shouts.

There is a sudden moment of relative quiet. The only sounds are the rumbling and creaking of the mountain as it shudders around them, being swiftly undermined by Cirrus (though our heroes are never to learn of her role in their last battle against the Bile Lords). 

“Is it over?” groans Blaze. He pulls out a scroll of _wish._ “Now we just have to get out of here before it’s too late!”

“But how?” wonders JJ.

“Maybe the death of the Bile King will have broken the barriers keeping us here,” Wankerman says hopefully.

“Unlikely,” replies Blaze, “but it seems to be our only hope.”

***

Chemnu reaches the Crux Chamber just in time. _I am the last, now,_ he thinks. _Unless one of my other brothers somehow escaped. And if any of them did survive, I will have to hunt them down. Unless they will swear to me, they must all be destroyed._ He grins a rictus grin. _Just like Zurtneg. I wonder if this is how my predecessor took power. I wonder if he, too, had brothers before he gained the crown._ 

A massive cracking sound booms through the chamber. Chemnu’s sorcerously  enhanced eyes pick out the shape of the gate immediately, and the complex network of forces holding it together and tying it to the epic spell that locks the mountain. 

He dismisses the bindings, knowing that the fact that he is able to do so means that his former king is no longer alive. In turn, that means that the entire demiplane will implode before long without the previous King’s will to sustain it. As quickly as he is able, he intones a spell of escape, and vanishes from the collapsing demiplane of bile in a flash of light.

***

“Hold on a second,” Alcar cries. “We aren’t leaving anyone behind!” 

He flies over to Chaffelliox’ body and casts a _true resurrection_ on her. Suddenly the air around her grows cold again as she rears up with a roar- and then, gazing at Alcar, her tension recedes- but does not entirely abate.

“We’ve won,” Alcar says quickly. 

*BOOM!* A huge slab of stone crashes down, taking a large chunk of the remaining floor out and plunging into the bile below.

“Where do we go to escape?” asks Chaffelliox.

“We don’t know. We were hoping you would.”

Baron Lillamere snaps, “Gather around! We have to try whatever we can!” The party clusters together, and- to their extreme surprise- they easily _plane shift_ away.

 Back to Cydra. 

***

Chaffelliox groans in discomfort. It is so hot! A fear of brutal treachery runs through her for a moment- these are humanoids, after all, and usually their kinds are savages that see anything else as monsters to be killed- but the cheers and celebratory noise reassure her. She begins producing ice to cool herself and looks around.

Mountains- there are mountains in the distance. Snow caps them. 

The others are embracing, whooping, yelling with joy. The chilblain lets herself relax. _They mean me no harm,_ she thinks in wonder. _They truly do not plan to slay me. Perhaps they will even become allies. Or even... friends._

***

And so our tale comes to a close. Our heroes have succeeded in their final quest. Each of them will live many more long years. None of them will find themselves in true significant danger again, until the end of each of their lives comes. 

Thrush’s conquest of the Forinthian Empire proceeds, and Emperor Thrush and Empress Sybele become mighty rulers. Thrush is finally slain, ironically, by his old friend Alcar many years hence, who himself is banished to the future, where he slays the creator of the Elf-Slayer of Varzoth that will later precipitate the Age of Madness.** The Elf-Slayer itself annihilates him as its first victim. Eventually everyone dies; even Gerontius cannot hope to steal from a million-year-old dragon. Nobody truly lives forever. 

But legends do. And the legends of our heroes will echo, even thousands of years later, and will call to the heroes of a distant age. There will come a time when adventurers from the far future will need the inspiration that they can only find in the legends of the greatest heroes of an earlier time- a time when the heroes of that future must seek out the lost secrets of history’s mightiest lords and ladies. 

Until then- this is

THE END.


*Remember, Sybele cannot recall names.

**See the Year 272 Campaign story hour; link here.


----------



## Brain (Feb 23, 2009)

Bravo my friend, Bravo.  Thanks again for all your efforts in running these games for us and then writing up story hours about them.  I especially enjoy finding out about stuff that we never encountered, like Cirrus.


----------



## the Jester (Feb 24, 2009)

Brain said:


> Bravo my friend, Bravo.  Thanks again for all your efforts in running these games for us and then writing up story hours about them.  I especially enjoy finding out about stuff that we never encountered, like Cirrus.




seance is the one who really ought to get a kick out of that bit. One of his very early pcs in 2e was Vrruth, Cydra's first dragonpriest, whom Cirrus eventually killed.


----------



## SpadeHammerfist (Feb 24, 2009)

*NPCs & Monsters*

Do we have the stats of the monsters, etc in the last bit:
Headless,
Axenscion Prototype,
Cirrus,
King of Bile
Queen of Guts,
Doomsday Medusa,
Alpha Vomit Hound
Chaffelliox
Lords of Bile, Chemnu, etc.

We might very well have, but I just can't seem to find them...

Plus, thanks very much Jester for the best story hour I've read so far on these boards, you've kept us waiting with baited breath on occasion, but every time, it's been absolutely worth the wait!


----------



## Sandain (Feb 25, 2009)

Thankyou for the many many years of posting.  It is the end of an era.  No matter what was happening in my life - girlfriends, growing my career, moving house, travelling the world, wedding/honeymoon, moving countries - I always managed to find a PC to check your storyhours every few days and I was never dissapointed in anything you wrote.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman (Feb 25, 2009)

Thank you, Jester, for that final update and the information on what they all did next. I think I've been reading your story hours since I started posting on these boards, and with the close of this one it does feel a little like the end of an era.

But I've got your new one to read, too, and that makes me happy.

Kudos to you, sir.


----------



## Alcar (Mar 9, 2009)

Golemhammer was my mace...+6 adamantine construct bane


----------



## Knightfall (Mar 10, 2009)

Excellent ending. Well done, Jester. I'm glad I got to follow this story. It has given me so many good ideas for Kulan not to mention some of your custom classes, feats, spells, etc.

Congrats to you and your players.


----------

