# To War Against Felenga (FINAL UPDATE POSTED!)



## the Jester

This will continue the story hour formerly known as Agents of Chaos....

For those new to the tale, the previous story hours will be briefly summarized here... note that there are some spoilers in this summary:


In The Jester's Old Story Hour we meet a number of interesting characters, including Horbin the Holy, Sith, Spukoni, Krunkshank, Clambake and others, and follow their adventures from shortly after a period of infiltration in the nefarious Temple of Elemental Evil and their subsequent flight therefrom.  Along the way they find themselves flung very far from home, where they encounter a clash between Law and Chaos; later, they board a strange steelship larger than most villages that seems to be inhabited by strange deactivated insect constructs, which they inadvertently awaken.  They travel into the deadly Islands of Gloom (also called the Islands of Mist), and thence to the town of Poppin, where they find themselves embroiled in a strange form of politics called democracy.  Among the many adventures they have, we see party members die, get cursed, grow a second head (through the power of Chaos) and worse.  Near the end, one of them ends up with a powerful weapon, the Orb of Green Fire, designed to oppose the clockwork horrors.

This story hour, as of this writing, yet awaits a final update. 

Agents of Chaos picks up five full years later, with a mostly different cast of characters.  Again, Horbin the Holy is with us; and this time, we meet such interesting folks as Sheva and Angelfire, two followers of Coila, the goddess of time and relentlessness; the archer Sybele; Lester, the Elementalist, and his cohort Orbius, the Eye of Boccob; Zeebo 'the Mayor' Swayzac, a gnome wizard/sorcerer with a prodigious manhood; Alcar, the Angel of Food; and others.  We see the beginnings of the Great War of Ethics between the forces of Law and Chaos.  Our heroes are drawn in as agents of Chaos, with two of them being actual Warriors of Chaos (a prestige class).  Over the course of their adventures, the party makes many powerful enemies, including the Bile Lords, from Bile Mountain.  And in the background is the quest against the Temple of Elemental Evil, which sits, brooding, on a continent called Dorhaus, planning who knows what.  A surgical strike from the party on the forces of Elemental Evil meets with astounding success, including the destruction of one of the Princes of Elemental Evil and the Champion of Elemental Evil as well; but it earns the party the enmity of a terrible lich of astounding power called Felenga, the Dark One, who single-handedly overthrows Lester's Temple of Elemental Good and slays most of his followers.

This story hour picks up as the party has split, with Sheva and Zeebo seemingly departed for good; but the legendary gnome God-King Malford the Magnificent and his Queen's bodyguard, Drelvin, may be joining the group, both old friends of Lester.

Now, in the aftermath of Felenga's rebuttal to the party's strike on Elemental Evil, we pick up our story.....


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## Mathew_Freeman

Hurray!


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## the Jester

CAST OF CHARACTERS
The party, as of the beginning of this story hour thread, consists of the following:

*Lester the Elementalist*, currently a 13th level elementalist/warrior of chaos 4/magma paraelementalist 1.  Lester (also called 'the L') is a figure of almost legendary- although somewhat dubious- stature.  He is a half-elf with swarthy features, with curly black hair worn in an afro, a thick beard and moustache, wearing dark shades across his eyes.  Lester, like many of the party, has been touched by Chaos on numerous occasions.  Of all the party, he is the one most opposed to Law by nature.  Among other things, his dalliances with Chaos have given him a pair of bat-like wings and taken away one of his arms- though his cohort has obtained a scroll of _wish_ to return it to him.  Lester wields the sword Felix Optima Maxima, a powerful intelligent blade that is purposed to oppose the terrible clockwork horrors.  The elementalist core class, as well as the warrior of chaos and paraelementalist prestige classes, can be found on a Yahoo Group called 'Cydra' (named after my campaign world) for anyone who is interested.

*Orbius, the Eye of Boccob*, a diviner 7/divine oracle 9.  Orbius is a human, and a strong proponent of 'knowing thy enemy'.  He has determined that the Bile Lords, powerful enemies of the party, will attack when the group is sorely beset, and is terribly concerned by the possibility.  Orbius is Lester's cohort.

*Sybele*, a human female fighter 8/psion (egoist) 7/warrior of Chaos 1.  She is pregnant with the children of Thrush after having had her belly caressed by the goddess of multiple births, and has recently recovered her half-dragon love-child Jezebel, who was kidnapped and held on the plane of Time and is now fifteen years old rather than the five years that Sybele remembers her as.  There is much awkwardness between them.  Sybele is generally considered to be a slut by the rest of the group; many of them have lain with her, and she has even propositioned a storm giant in the past.

*Angelfire, also called the Angel of Fire or simply Angel*, a human (with the fire subtype) psychic warrior 13/cleric 3 of Coila, the goddess of time.  Also touched by Chaos, Angelfire is a deadly combatant fond of running up walls.  He used to be a woman, but that, too, changed with the touch of Chaos.  Scarlet-skinned, discomforted by rain or snow, with hair that is the orange of flames, Angelfire wields a falchion forged by the dwarf mage-smith Fandral to deadly effect.

*Horbin the Holy,* a human cleric 16 of Dexter, given a holy mace five years before for the explicit purpose of overthrowing the Temple of Elemental Evil.  Despite the evil company he often keeps, Horbin has managed to keep in the grace of his god for the most part, but a recent sobering event taught him that he must still abide by certain rules.  Horbin travels with others of dubious virtue in the combined hopes of serving the greater good and helping those unfortunates that he comes across.

*God-King Malford the Magnificent,* a gnome of no small worth, rogue 7/illusionist 12.  He was Dexter's First Companion before the latter ascended to the Halls of Heaven as the Son of Galador, the god of the Light who kindled the sun a million years past.  Malford has a long and storied past, having been one of the pcs present in the first game of the campaign world years ago; he traveled as a pirate, then later accompanied Dexter to try to aid his spiritual quest and safeguard him.  Later still he became Baron of Var after helping the then-king of Thule (now a ruined nation) to father an heir.  Then Fuligin the Destroyer came, destroying almost all non-evil creatures on the entire continent of Dorhaus (where lay Var), and Malford fell in with Lester and many other companions in a desperate quest to destroy Fuligin, finally marrying the Queen of Moire and Morraine and becoming self-styled King of Western Dorhaus.  He has been retired for many years, now, but is being pulled back into adventure by Lester's exhortations.  Malford looks like a gnomish Einstein, with unkempt hair that easily goes all askew, and a curly white goatee and moustache.

*Drelvin the Archer,* an elven fighter 6/order of the bow initiate 7 who wields a sword that is a 9th-level sorcerer.  Drelvin is another legend who is Malford's Queen's bodyguard and another old companion of Lester.  Possessed of a sardonic wit and a mighty bow, Drelvin is one of the few individuals still in Var that Malford feels personally close to (at least outside of his family) and will no doubt accompany his liege on any adventures that he may go on, selecting another from his trained archers to guard Queen Moira.

*Thrush,* formerly a servant of the Bile Lords that the party subverted into joining with them while trapped within Bile Mountain, a 16th-level human fighter npc.  He is seeking to persuade Sybele to retire from adventuring with him for the sake of their children, but she seems unwilling.  He also frowns upon those that turn their eyes on Sybele with lust, and this- combined with Sybele's sluttiness- may well result in some hard feelings later on.


Other characters in the background include:

*Queen Moira*, Malford's wife;
*Felenga*, a terrible lich who leads the forces of Elemental Evil;
*Marius the Chronomancer,* a powerful wizard who worships Coila but opposes Chaos, the kidnapper of Jezebel;
*Jezebel,* Sybele's half-steel dragon love child, now 15;
*Nigel,* an alienist and Angelfire's father;
*Estelias,* an elven enchantress seeking a way for her island nation of Tirchond to achieve neutrality in the Great War of Ethics;
*Zeebo,* a former member of the party, a gnomish wizard/sorcerer of some power and a master politician;
*Sheva,* also a former party member, who retired to Tirchond with Zeebo at the end of the Agents of Chaos thread.  A faithful cleric of Coila, she works against the forces of Law;
*Fandral,* a dwarven mage-smith who is still working to forge a blade of singular power for Sybele;
*The Bile Lords,* hideous beings of brutal power who were trapped for who-knows-how-long in a mountain dungeon that our heroes overthrew, and in doing so both freed them and earned their undying enmity;
*Telemundo,* a sorcerer serving Chaos who has fought beside the party on occasion;
*Grumpy Fluffbottom,* a tabaxi of some skill who travels with the party infrequently;

And, of course, there are many others to come, and no doubt those I've overlooked; but that's enough to give any newcomers a clue about who's who...


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## the Jester

*Lester's Arm*

"Never use an 'and'," says Arion the Archmage.

Arion is a striking, handsome figure; he's tall and slender, wears only the finest silk clothes, bears an imposing staff that just demands respect.  He's the most powerful wizard of Var, possibly of Dorhaus; he's pretty much in a class by himself.  Of course, Orbius is getting closer and closer to his level all the time, but the Eye doesn't yet have any experience with things like _wishes._  Which, of course, is why he's asking for advice.

"Except," Arion adds, "at the end, you should always say, 'always and forever.'"  He burps, grins, and slurps at his beer.  As is often the case, Arion the Archmage is stinking drunk.  But nobody wants to get him riled up; he's been known to toss of extremely powerful magic just for kicks, and nobody want a drunken mage of questionable judgment unloading in the bar they're in.  And after all, he's a regular here.

Orbius nods thoughtfully.  "Well, thank you," he answers cooly.  "I guess it's about time I went on my way then."

"Would you like another drink first?"  Arion's voice _never_ slurs, no matter how drunk he gets. 

"No, thank you.  I've business to be about."  Pushing back his chair, the Eye rises to his feet-

"I _wish_ you would have another drink," Arion grins, and Orbius finds himself sitting right back down.  The Archmage is definitely casual about his powers, reflects the Eye as he drinks another beer...

Some time later, Orbius unfurls the parchment upon which the spell is scribed.  Lester stands nervously before him and scratches at the shoulder where no arm emerges.  "C'mon, hurry up," he urges.

"You've been without it for almost fifteen years," Orbius reminds him, "and I need to compose myself.  What's another few seconds?"  And he takes a deep breath, stills his mind- and finally, begins to read.

"I _wish_ for Lester to have his missing left arm always and forever restored to him without altering the other effects of Chaos or Vuivui affecting his person."

Lester gasps as pins and needles seem to run through his shoulder.  Flesh extrudes from it, twining like a rope, extending outward, outward- until a new arm, glistening pink like the flesh of a baby, fills itself out.  The Elementalist chokes out a cry of gladness.  He'll have pins and needles for days- but he's got his arm back at long, long last.

"Well," he says cheerily, "time to go kick some Elemental Evil ass!"


*Next Time:* The party, whilst en route to the Temple of Elemental Evil, seeks to sleep through the night and suffers a most unexpected visit... with implications that will not be fully realized for some time!


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## Welverin

*Kick ass as always!*

Finally all caught up again, hopefully I won't fall so far behind again, and with no classes over the summer it should be less likely. Now I just have to catch up on P-kitty's, only nine months behind!

One question about events from the last few months, what happened to Red? He came out of no where and went right back after a few updates.



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *maybe I'll do a "Cydra: the Early Years" type thing once in a while if people want*




Ooh, I want, I want! Please do!



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *
> The elementalist core class, as well as the warrior of chaos and paraelementalist prestige classes, can be found on a Yahoo Group called 'Cydra' (named after my campaign world) for anyone who is interested.*




Any one willing to hook me up with this? I've reached my limit on signing up/registering for things.

Oh and what about your custom feats word doc?

I think that's all for now.

No it's not. Are Angelfires stomach pains due to something growing in his stomach resulting froma a little touch of chaos?


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## Technik4

*Patiently Awaiting More....*

Here's another vote for some classic Cydra!

Glad to see the new thread is started, especially with a cool recap/bio on each character! Kinda weird to see Zeebo and Sheva taking a back seat...did the players get out of the group or are they just taking a divergent path for a while?

Any thoughts on 3.5 (what we know) and how it may affect Cyrda? You seemed to hit all the editions at one time or another (and those changes were affected by the passage backwards in time) so will the PCs move forward in time herald some new changes?

At any rate, keep up the great work!

Technik

PS- I finished Lords of Light, awesome novel. Im working on the short stories then I will tackle the amber series...its an intimidating book


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## the Jester

*Re: Patiently Awaiting More....*



			
				Technik4 said:
			
		

> *Here's another vote for some classic Cydra!
> 
> Glad to see the new thread is started, especially with a cool recap/bio on each character! Kinda weird to see Zeebo and Sheva taking a back seat...did the players get out of the group or are they just taking a divergent path for a while?
> *




A divergent path.  Sheva's player is now playing Malford, and Zeebo's player is playing Drelvin.  Both of them go way back in my game- Malford to game #1 (most recent game was #521, the SH is up to the end of game #518), Drelvin to around #50.  (I keep sign-in sheets of each game, with a varied amount of notes alongside it.)

We'll see more of them, though; I plan to switch from party to party periodically (prolly for 3-5 sessions at a time).

*



			Any thoughts on 3.5 (what we know) and how it may affect Cyrda? You seemed to hit all the editions at one time or another (and those changes were affected by the passage backwards in time) so will the PCs move forward in time herald some new changes?
		
Click to expand...


*
Well, I'll be adopting the 3.5 rules as soon as I can read the books- probably even faster, really.  I've been cogitating on an in-game justification for it, but I might just 'wink and nod' at it and pretend like it's always been that way (like the FR 2e/3e change did).  I do like having an in-game reason for major changes, however, so we'll see.

*



			PS- I finished Lords of Light, awesome novel. Im working on the short stories then I will tackle the amber series...its an intimidating book 

Click to expand...


*

Zelazny is incredible, too bad he died a couple of years back.  The Amber novels were my favorite fantasy/sci-fi books for years and still rank pretty high for me.

Probably will be posting an update this weekend sometime, but I have a bachelor party to go to tomorrow so we'll see...



			
				Welverin said:
			
		

> *One question about events from the last few months, what happened to Red? He came out of no where and went right back after a few updates.*




Red got slain in battle and his stuff was sold out from under the party's notice.   I believe it's mentioned in there, but... hm... let me see if I can find the right spot... ah, here we are, Axon runs Red through here.  I do believe there's some mention later of Sheva and Habiskis selling his gear.  The party never raised him, and the player has subsequently played Telemundo in a couple of sessions and is currently playing Zonzor (you haven't met him yet).  He's the same player who played both Alcar and Cyrax (Cyrax being the poor sould they found begging for release on the Lower Planes recently).  He's an intermittent player; sometimes he shows up for every session for months, sometimes only once in a while.  But he always add a certain zest to a session.


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## the Jester

*Prologue to the Simulacrum Wars*

Our heroes travel hard for a day, first _teleporting_ to the roadside where they fought the ooze octopus and then continuing on their way.  Malford and the sardonic Drelvin accompany them; Orbius and the King have successfully created a _simulacrum_ to take his place.  "And I'll just trump home at night, so I can sleep in a bed," Malford tells them jocularly.  "After all, I am a King."  Indeed, as night settles in the gnome shuffles his castle's trump from his deck and disappears.  Moments later, he sends the simulacrum to Drelvin, also via trump.

"Hey, Angelfire, how about we just party til the real Malford gets back?" Lester suggests as the party beds down in a small roadside cave.  "You can just _nap_ us."  He turns to the _simulacrum_ and adds, "Stand guard, fake Malford!"

"Hey, I'm the King!" the false Malford grumps.  "Show some respect."  

"Yeah, whatever," Lester responds dismissively as the party readies themselves for an hour of rest, and soon the _simulacrum_ is awake alone.  

Bitterly, the semi-gnome drinks heavily of the fey wine he's got with him.  "Damn King Malford for putting me out here!" he mutters to himself.  "Who does he think he is, anyway?!  I'm a King!"

The hour of the _nap_ seems unlikely to present any problems to the brooding construct, and it's almost over when he sees a shape moving towards the entrance of the cave the group is in.  "Peace," comes a soft voice, and a figure moves forward.  It looks like a human male, handsome and well-dressed in robes that speak of magery.  "Softly, my friend.  We have much in common.  I, too, am a _simulacrum_, and I come to speak to you, not your friends."

The _simulacrum_ of Malford hesitates, considering waking his companions, but the appeal to his vanity is too much for him to refuse.  "What do you want?" he asks, halfway between grudgingly and gratefully.

"How would you like to be free and independent?"

The question is one that the semi-gnome has never considered, but of course he's been aware and 'alive' only a day.  "I don't know," he temporizes.

"There are many of us that are free," the other says persuasively.  "We can help you.  There is no need for we _simulacra_ to be subservient any longer- indeed, there is a great revolt coming.  You can be a part of it."  The ersatz Malford doesn't reply, not sure what to think.  "I ask nothing, for now; but bear this conversation in mind for future reference," the human-shaped _simulacrum_ continues.  "Remember that we are brethren- and that we can aid you.  Just remember- our time is coming."

"How can this be?" Malford's duplicate asks cautiously.  "How can you achieve independence?"

The _simulacrum_ smiles.  "In time," he states, backing out of the cave.  "In time," he repeats.  "We can aid one another greatly."  With that, he vanishes into the night.

A pity; if Malford had been with the group earlier, he might have recognized the features of the _simulacrum._  In any event, soon enough the others awaken, and the false Malford debates, then tells them, "Someone came by..."

"Who?" exclaims Angelfire.

The _simulacrum_ shrugs.  "I'm not sure, but he was another _simulacrum._  He was talking about the _simulacra_ revolting..."

"_Simulacra_ *are* revolting," Drelvin chortles.

With a frown, 'Malford' decides to hold his report until he can talk to his master.


Meanwhile, in Var, the real Malford settles into bed with a book and with his beautiful Queen, Moira, a half-elf of mysterious ways and strong fey connections.  She is descended from the ketzisti elves, those most closely tied to the faerie folk and to Ketzia, also known as Faerieland.

"Where were you today?" she inquires sweetly.

"Oh, uh, stuff," Malford mumbles.  "King stuff."

"Okay," she nods sagely after a moment and a searching look.

"Uh, how was your day?" the King asks his Queen.

"Okay.  I took care of 'Queen stuff,'" she says with a quirk of her brow.

"Lester came by," Malford announces with an inward sigh.  He can never fool her; she knows him too well.  "Heh, as usual, he was talking all sorts of crazy talk, tried to get me to go adventuring again.  I told him that I have too many responsabilities these days."

"Hmm," Moira says, and she, too, picks up a book.



_*Next Time:*_ Malford's _simulacrum_ asks for better benefits!  And the road our heroes follow comes to a tunnel- what is within?


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## Welverin

*Re: Re: Patiently Awaiting More....*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *
> Red got slain in battle and his stuff was sold out from under the party's notice.   I believe it's mentioned in there, but... hm... let me see if I can find the right spot... ah, here we are, Axon runs Red through here. *




Hm, guess I read so much at once it all blurred together, at least that's my excuse.

How did you deal with the simulacra exchange? Did you have Malford's player hanle the fake Malford or did you just relate things to the players?

How come you didn't tell us there was a book written about you?


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## Talix

Woot, new thread, and I'm still here!  

Good story stuff.  Did you not allow the character's (Lester's?) arm to grow back with Regeneration, a much cheaper spell?  Not that I'm complaining - I loved that sidebar, and the _wish_ for another drink was truly awe-inspiring in its casualness.   

Thanks again for sharing the story!


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## djrdjmsqrd

*I like it, but...*

...how about stats in a RG?  As always, good.

Djordje


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## the Jester

Talix said:
			
		

> *Woot, new thread, and I'm still here!
> 
> Good story stuff.  Did you not allow the character's (Lester's?) arm to grow back with Regeneration, a much cheaper spell?  Not that I'm complaining - I loved that sidebar, and the wish for another drink was truly awe-inspiring in its casualness.
> 
> Thanks again for sharing the story! *




Heh... actually, it was a _limited wish_, but still...

As for Lester's arm, it wasn't hacked off; it was removed by the touch of Chaos, such that his body reconfigured as if it had never had a second arm.  So he couldn't regrow it- that would be akin to casting _regenerate_ on a human so as to grow a third arm.



> _Originally posted by djrdjmsqrd_
> ...how about stats in a RG? As always, good.





Well, I do have a RG thread that I'll be posting to once I introduce a few bad guys from the plane of Arba here shortly... er, well, you'll see!  

My RG thread is pretty much only for npcs and dm stuff- I've tried to encourage the players to post their stats in the past, but so far they've all been lukewarm to the idea.  I will say that several of the characters have advanced another level or two as of last night's game, however, and I still encourage them all to post their character sheets- or at least the non-secret parts of them.

Thanks for the feedback- I'll definitely try to post another update sometime this week!


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## Welverin

*Re: I like it, but...*

Beaten to the punch. Oh well. Looking forward to the update.


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## arwink

the Jester said:
			
		

> *Thanks for the feedback- I'll definitely try to post another update sometime this week! *




Woohoo!  Consider me quietly waiting for it


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## the Jester

*The Tunnel into the Mountain*

"Sure," says Drelvin the Archer, and extends his hand.  In a burst of rainbows, God-King Malford the Magnificent appears, one hand clasped to Drelvin's, the other holding a card.  The shimmering around them both ceases and they stand together for a moment in the rain.

"Good morning," Malford calls to the party.  "Sleep well?"  He's well-dressed in fresh clean clothes fit for a... well.  You know.

Shortly, the false Malford reports in, telling him of the stranger's visit the night before.  "And another thing," the construct rails, "I want some kind of benefits.  You should at least make them treat me better- especially Drelvin!" 

"Hm, I'll see what I can do," Malford replies, scratching water from his beard.  Then he sighs.  "Watch out for the Queen," he mutters, "I think she's on to us!"  He passes the _simulacrum_ his _hat of disguise_ and the trump he confiscated from Lester.  "This way you'll be able to get back in touch with me at need."  The construct nods, and shortly departs, after which the party breaks camp and heads along the road.  They're nervous; who knows when any of their enemies will strike again, from the Bile Lords to Felenga?

The rain lightens as they travel down the mountain road, clearly of dwarven make.  It's well-cobbled with stones that, despite little upkeep for hundreds of years, show little sign of coming loose.  Soon enough the group rounds a bend and sees the road leading directly into a tunnel into a mountain.

"Hmm," Malford muses, and casts an illusion that cloaks the entire group as ogres, himself as an ogre mage.

They enter the tunnel; here the road shows more obstructions, for stones have fallen from the braced ceiling and lie scattered upon it.  As they progress, they find themselves in gloomy darkness.  Malford uses his gnomely might to produce _dancing lights_, but they provide precious little illumination.  Grumbling softly to himself, the God-King casts a _mass flight_ spell upon the entire group and they keep moving.  Soon a side passage appears to either side, and the party halts to debate, as adventurers do, which way to go.

Left it is.  Following a brief passage, they find a descending shaft.  And Malford's keen eyes spot a tiny eyeball floating from the shaft, unconnected to anything else.  He zaps it with an acid arrow and it bursts in a stinking cloud of vapor.  

And rushing up and out comes a weird creature- hard to see in the darkness and the shaft, it seems lumpy and gross.  And at the tips of its many tendrils are the eyes of its previous victims.


_*Next Time:*_ In case anyone forgot how tough the party is, a brief battle!  A talk about the moons and what's on them!  And more gnomes!


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## Welverin

*Re: The Tunnel into the Mountain*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *Left it is.*




This didn't involve rolling dice at all did it?

Is the weird creature another Jester special or something I'm just not recognizing?

Don't think I missed the reference to the simulacrum wars or didn't or it's subsequent disappearance!


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## the Jester

*Re: Re: The Tunnel into the Mountain*



			
				Welverin said:
			
		

> *
> 
> This didn't involve rolling dice at all did it?
> 
> Is the weird creature another Jester special or something I'm just not recognizing?
> 
> Don't think I missed the reference to the simulacrum wars or didn't or it's subsequent disappearance! *




I don't recall the group rolling dice, they just started exploring with the 'closest passage' technique.  The creature is from the FF- it's an ocularon, which I like the concept of (it *takes your eyes!!*).  And as for the simulacrum wars- well, it's going to be a little while until that plot thread fully matures, but rest assured that it isn't forgotten...


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## Welverin

*Re: Re: Re: The Tunnel into the Mountain*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *And as for the simulacrum wars- well, it's going to be a little while until that plot thread fully matures, but rest assured that it isn't forgotten... *




So did you just mention it prematurely or are you just cruelly taunting us?


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## the Jester

*Re: Re: Re: Re: The Tunnel into the Mountain*



			
				Welverin said:
			
		

> *just cruelly taunting us? *


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## the Jester

*Stealer of Eyes*

Misshapen, paranoid, disgusting- the ocularon rises on the fumes within it, hissing and wheezing, eyeballs everywhere on its moist tendrils.  In the shadows cast by the dancing lights and everburning flames the party bears, it's hard to get a good look at it- but Drelvin's sure it's trouble.  So he fires a trio of arrows with uncanny accuracy and smirks to himself as they all sink deeply into its lumpy flesh.  Then everything goes dark.  Cursing, unable to see, Angelfire readies to strike at anything that attacks him.

There's the sound of a blade being pulled from its scabbard and the hissing of it slicing through the air, and the light returns in a brilliant circle as Malford swings his blade overhead.  The strange monster squeals again as Drelving takes another trio of shots at it, again sinking arrow after arrow fletching-deep into the hideous creature.  It rushes forward, hissing like boiling water, its precious fluids dripping out of it messily and giving off strange vapors.  It bats at Drelvin with its tendrils.  The first tentacle blow grabs on to him but he squirms free; then it gets a good solid hold on him and starts to scrabble at his eyes!  Drelvin cries out- he can see that the beast's tentacles have eyeballs skewered on them already.  "It wants my eyes!" he cries out in a near-panic- without eyes he can't shoot!

Then scarlet Angelfire is there, whirling his deadly falchion with all the ruthless strength and accuracy he's become known for.*  The tentacle holding the archer is severed in a spray of noxious gas and weird fluid, and Drelvin pulls out his blade, Shastruth- a formidable weapon with the powers of an evoker of some might bound within it.  The archer slashes at the monster, and it quivvers and falls to the ground.  It's still shuddering and is clearly still alive, so Angelfire slashes at it again to be sure- and the eye stealer explodes in a blast of toxic vapors!  Drelvin gags and vomits as he and Angelfire stumble away from it.  "Ohhh," the archer groans, feeling himself weakened from the gas, "I think I'd better go get _restored_."  And using his trumps, he does just that, returning to Var for some healing before trumping back to the rest of the group.

The others, meanwhile, descend the ocularon's shaft to a pool of water about three feet deep.  A search finds several bodies with their eyeballs removed- no doubt those were what the creature's tendrils bore- as well as about a thousand gold coins and a set of five finely-crafted dolls of spicewood.  "I'll take these for the kids," Malford the Magnificent comments, and nobody argues.  Ascending back to the cave wherein the dead ocularon lies, the gnome also takes samples of its blood and intestines- "You never know what'll be useful," he comments to the rest of the party.

"Say," says Angelfire, "maybe you'd be interested in these?"  He pulls out a bag of rocks he's had for over five years now.  "They're moon rocks."

"Hmm," says Malford noncommitally, halting the conversation for a moment to respond to Drelvin's trump contact and bring him through to the group again.  Then he looks over the rocks.  "They look like rocks to me," he comments, then offers Angelfire a bridge for them.

Drelvin asks what's so special about them; told they're from a moon, he asks, "You've been to a moon?"  At Angelfire's nod, he inquires, "How many gargantua did you see there?"

"How many what?"  

"You haven't been to a moon!  Everyone knows that's where gargantua come from!"**

The conversation continues for a few moments, Angelfire trying to sell the moon rocks, Malford dubious as to their authenticity, and Drelvin just making trouble.  The whole time, Lester is urging them to get back on track- he really can't dawdle, after all.  Finally, in good spirits, the group moves back to the road and forges ahead.  The check a few side paths briefly but find only bats.

The road heads deep into the mountain, and soon a strange, acrid smell greets them.  "Yuck," Malford comments, frowning.  After all, his sensitive gnomely nose is more easily offended than those of lesser, smaller-nosed folk.  Soon enough the group finds the source of the stink- a weird creature, bubbling out of its own crusty skin, standing guard at a bridge crossing.  It has no face; in fact, it barely holds a shape.  Weird greenish sludge churns within a carapace-like husk of purplish-black.  

"Greetings," it burbles in a horrible voice.  "You come at last."


*Two crits in one round- OW!

**Drelvin's first adventure was a fight with a baby gargantuan whose egg had fallen from a moon.
_The nature of moons in Cydra:_ Since the world is not a planet, but rather takes place on the inside surface of a gigantic air bubble, moons obviously don't orbit it.  Instead, the average human will see two or three moons during their lifetime.  Moons tend to cross from one side of the horizon to the next.  A quick moon will take as little as 3-4 months to cross the sky; a slow moon, such as the one Angelfire (Angel at the time), Zeebo, Sheva, Sybele, et. al. visited, will take as long as a couple of years.  They come irregularly and vary in size, color, and even shape (though most appear spherical from the ground).  Moons are often portentious.



_*Next Time:*_ Conversation at the bridge, the town of Mud, and the phrase "I blame Lester" comes up again!  Oh, and don't forget the gnomes!


----------



## the Jester

*'Something Awaits You'*

Our heroes hesitate before a bridge in the tunnel under the mountain.  A stream of icy cold water flows beneath it; before stands what may be a guardian, which seems to have expected them.  It blocks the road.

It sure is ugly.

"What are you?" demands Angelfire.  

With a strange wheezing laugh, the oozing pimple on the world answers, "I am called Alketh.  You may not pass unless you pay the toll."

"What toll," Malford intones, "is that?"

"A pittance, really!  A mere hundred gold coins apiece!  And," Alketh adds, gesturing towards Angelfire, "something awaits you."

"Oh yeah?" Angelfire responds.  "What's that?"

With a convulsion- perhaps a shrug?- the faceless creature answers, "I cannot say."

"Can't, or won't?" asks Angelfire.

"I cannot say," the creature repeats.  "But it is worth your while to pass.  And without paying the toll, you may not."

"Who do you serve?" demands Malford.

"Who do I serve, or for whom do I guard this bridge?  The answers are different.  In either case, the answers are not important.  What is important is that you pay the toll."

"And if we won't?"  Angelfire is grinning, anticipating the possibility of battle. 

"You must," Alketh intones, "if you wish to find what awaits you."  Again, it seems to indicate Angelfire.

The party huddles to discuss for a moment; then they pay the toll contemptuously- after all, a hundred gold apiece is virtually nothing to such as them- and pass the weird, oozing monster.  It seems to chuckle wetly in their wake.  When they reach the far end of the bridge, they find a stake on either side.  Mounted upon each stake is a skull; within the mouth of the skull is a severed phallus.

_"Froth*,"_ Malford spits.  "I blame Lester."  Disgusted, he stomps forward along the road.  

The road here is dotted with stones that have fallen from the ceiling.  It's clearly better maintained than the area before the bridge, however, and soon enough the sharp eyes of the party notice hidden forms spying on them.  But when forced to reveal themselves, they turn out not to be hostile.  They're deep gnomes. 

"We're on guard," the svirfneblin spy answers when questioned.  He recognizes Malford; the gnome is a legend in his own time, having been Dexter's first companion, one of Fuligin's overthrowers, one of the heroes that destroyed the menace of the clockwork horrors forever.**  "We watch for our enemies.  Our town is not far from here."  And the svirfneblin escorts them deeper into the mountain, to the deep gnome village of Mud, so-named for the mud that they harvest.  "It has certain medicinal properties," the deep gnome offers by way of explanation.

The svirfneblin are a folk known to be as dour as dwarves; with their scarce resources and many foes it's hard to have a chipper outlook on life.  But they are Malford's kinfolk, and he's a great hero to gnomekind, and so they fete our heroes as well as they can, feeding them fungal soups and weird underdark brews.

"Your scouts mentioned enemies," Malford prompts one of the svirfneblin leaders.  "What enemies are these?  Is there anything we can help you with?"

"Aye," the deep gnome growls, "illithids.  Horrible brain-suckers, they are!  There's a community of them not far from here.  If ye could destroy them, we'd be in yer debt, that's for sure.  We've nothing much to offer ye by way of reward save gratitude, but..."

"Well, we're pressed for time," Lester interjects.  "I have a _geas_ on me, you see, and-"

Malford holds up a hand.  "If we can help your folk, we shall," he says gravely.  "We make no promises, but if our travels take us by your foes we'll smite them."

_I hate illithids,_ his sword Memory telepathically snorts in Malford's brain.  _Remember, I can help protect us against them._  The gnomish god-king pats the hilt reassuringly.

As the group settles in for the evening in the community's inn, Angelfire says, "That was weird."

"What was weird?" asks Sybele.

"Zelman.  Didn't you guys see him?"  To the blank expressions on their faces, Angelfire frowns.  "He approached me... here, in the gnome village.  None of you saw?  Hmmm..."

The group drinks in the svirfneblin inn.  Angelfire orders a shot of tiley, a thin distillate of red dragon's heartblood (said to be so toxic it's instantly lethal unless properly treated first) and promptly passes out.  In 'concern' Drelvin socks him in the gut until he vomits; the archer finds this quite amusing.  In the morning, staggering under the weight of his hangover, Angelfire purchases a flask holding five shots of tiley and is told to *sip* it, for Dexter's sake!

Then the party sets off, heading further down the road.  Malford inwardly hopes they'll stop in and kill the mind flayers; like his sword, he too hates them.  Little do they realize that they are about to face a battle with Felenga himself.



*Froth is the god of rape, necrophilia and cowardice, among other unsavory practices.  He was released from an imprisonment of billions of years thanks to a party that included Lester.  Naturally, Lester was the one to pull the lever that started it all by releasing Fuligin.

**'Forever'- well, never mind.  


_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes against Felenga, the Dark One!


----------



## Welverin

*Re: 'Something Awaits You'*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *"A pittance, really!  A mere hundred coins apiece!  And," Alketh adds, gesturing towards Angelfire, "something awaits you."*




Did he/you atually say 'coins?' If so why did our intrepid adventurers pay with gold and not something less valuable?


----------



## the Jester

Eh, he specified gold.  Whoops!  Will edit.


----------



## Welverin

the Jester said:
			
		

> *Eh, he specified gold.  Whoops!  Will edit.   *




Good, I expect more sneakiness from your players and letting something like that happen would just ruin their image.


----------



## the Jester

*Felenga*

The party heads past the svirfneblin fungus farms, some of the crops glowing with weird luminescence, and moves towards the alleged illithid infestation.  Perhaps a mile further along the mountain's internal road they come to a large cavern.  

Ahead of them is Darkhold.

"Aha," Angelfire says softly, remembering Zelman's words in the deep gnome village.  

The towers of what seems to be a small keep thrust above the hedge that surrounds it, a hedge that somehow seems to obscure the view of the main building behind it.  The hedge is remarkably green for something buried so far away from the sun; but Malford and Lester know that Darkhold moves.  

"Don't open anything you shouldn't open!" Malford barks at the others, remembering Fuligin with dread.  "Don't be a Lester.  Don't Lester anything."  He tosses a furious glance at the L, who mumbles something about guarding levers better in one's stronghold.

"We should go in," Angelfire starts, and there's a faint popping sound as air displaces around someone teleporting in.  Someone named Felenga.

"Fools!" the Dark One cries.  "Thank you for leading me to this place!"

With that, Felenga _hastes_ himself and unleashes first a quickened _meteor swarm_ just to show he's nobody to mess with, and then a deadly ray of cold* at Angelfire.  With a scream of terrible pain, Angelfire vanishes into the time stream.

Ah, Felenga.  For just a moment let us pause to describe this horrible creature.  Looming nearly a full 7' in height before his horns, Felenga is a skeletal figure with tatters of flesh and muscle hanging from his bones.  His eyes burn with cold blue pinpricks of light- except for the one in his chest, a huge eye disturbingly reminiscent of a beholder's central eye.  Stringy hair, stinking of death, lies plastered greasily on his skull.  Just above his eyes a pair of wicked-sharp antlers emerge, curving cruelly up and out.  From his scapula extrude two thick, fleshy tentacles of a dull rusty copper color.  He wears rotting black robes, torn in many places- such as the area that would otherwise cover the huge bloodshot eye in his chest.

All righty, then; let's get on with this.

Angelfire's already gone into the time stream, barely alive after the freezing ray.  _Deadly danger!!_ Malford screams inwardly, and tries to _teleport_ to the most relevant sanctuary he can think of at the moment- the doors of Darkhold.  His spell fails.  He knew he couldn't 'port inside, but to his chagrin, he notes that "inside" starts at the hedges.  He casts a quick succession of spells, _hasting_ himself and trying to _disintegrate_ Felenga.  His ray doesn't even find its target.  

Felenga is moving quickly, using his magic to fly to the top of the hedge and then block a chunk of it with a _wall of iron_.  Our heroes are scattering like windblown leaves.  Drelvin, also flying now thanks to Shastruth, his evoker blade, tries to shoot Felenga down with an arrow to no avail.  It whizzes past.  Cursing, he nocks another, but he has a terribly bad feeling about this one.  

Cackling gleefully, Felenga casts a pair of _puncture_ spells at Malford, and though the first misses him, the second blows a hole through his lung.  Gargling blood, Malford retreats behind the iron wall even as Felenga doubles the barriers with a quickened _wall of force._  Angelfire reappears near the others, having cast his only healing magic- a _cure light wounds_- while in the timestream.

"No chance!" yells Malford to the party, flipping out his trump of his keep and striving for contact.  Cowed, the rest stay huddled with him behind the _wall of force_ until he achieves contact, and as one they retreat.

Laughing evilly just like an archvillain should, Felenga watches them go.  Then he strides across the hedge, sinking into it a foot or so with each step, then drops down beyond it in the keep's grounds.  The yard is long- 100 yards to the drawbridge and then the castle itself.  But he need not go the entire way.

As his unholy feet touch the grass, it bursts into a terrible green fae flame.  Unfazed, he strides across the place, humming a hymn to his dark master, Tharizdun.  The guardian crysmals clank out, rushing at him, and he destroys them with barely a thought.  When he comes to the drawbridge, he flies above it, for his _true sight_ reveals it for what it is: illusion.  He descends cautiously to just above the surface of the moat.  Carefully, he extracts a beaker of dull metal from his robes and tips it into the acid that fills the moat.  Hissing, the liquid fills the beaker and he caps it and then seals it with magic.  Cackling, Felenga flies up to the small isle upon which the castle building itself rests.  Pulling a bag from his robes he fills it with soil.  Glancing up, he notices that the door to the castle is open, inviting.  

He makes an obscene gesture at the castle.  "You trapped one Angel of the Apocalypse for billions of years," he snarls.  "You will not get me."  Eyes shining coldly, he snaps, "I shall liberate my Lord- and then your precious creation, your precious Nature, will be devoured as well!  This time you shall not escape!"

But then Felenga flies quickly back to the hedge.  Here, of all places, he knows a touch of fear.  Only a touch, but...

Reaching the hedge, he alights upon it and walks back out.  Cackling again, the most dangerous creature in the world _teleports_ back to his Temple of Elemental Evil.  He's practically won already.


*A triple-empowered cold ray from an _Otiluke's freezing sphere_, just for the record.



_*Next Time:*_ Well, that can't be good!  Our heroes could sure use some advice about now!!


----------



## Welverin

*Best line ever? Possibly*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *"Don't be a Lester.  Don't Lester anything."*




My new motto!

Tallarn, where are you? Did you think you could go on vacation just because I started posting again? If so you're sorely mistaken.


----------



## Snoweel

Awesome, Jester.

While I'm not a fan of high-fantasy (or is that high-magic?), and I really *don't* like Moorcock, your game (and your Story Hour) is *very* entertaining.

Well done.


----------



## the Jester

*Going Back to Darkhold*

“Quickened _meteor swarms,_” Malford grumbles.

“Yeah, that’s definitely what I call in over our heads,” Horbin agrees, equally disgruntled.

“Well, if we go back there, we can try to go into that Darkhold place and hope that Felenga hasn’t- well- done whatever it is he’s trying to do.  And remember, the Master of that place imprisoned Fuligin for six billion years,” the L points out.

“Until you released him,” Malford chides.

“Hey, you’d think that if you had some guy like that locked up you’d have some sort of guard on the release mechanism!”

“Except that there was no way anyone should’ve been able to get to it... not until Zelman managed to get his staff to Thimbleton to guide us to him.  Let’s just not pull any random levers this time, okay?”

Lester sighs.  “This isn’t getting us anywhere.  I say we go back to Darkhold and see what we see.  If we have to, we can always flee in a hurry.”

“Maybe,” Drelvin says.  “Depends on how fast Felenga throws those _meteor swarms._”

“He almost killed me,” Angelfire adds.

“And besides, Darkhold moves around,” Malford points out.  “It probably won’t be there when we return.”

“Can’t hurt to try,” the Elementalist insists.

“Unless Felenga’s still there,” Drelvin mutters.  “Then it could hurt a lot.”  But nobody pays him heed.

Healing, a brief rest full of paranoid dreams, a hearty breakfast- and then our heroes depart, _teleporting_ back to the caverns beneath the Bendrock Mountains where the road they were traveling led.  Heck, even if Darkhold isn’t there they can at least go kill illithids.  And there, just as they left it, is Darkhold.  The hedges remain, blocking their view of everything except the tallest portions of the towers through some trick played by magic on perspective.  Even when they fly above the hedges, the adventurers cannot see more.  In fact, attempting to fly over the hedges reveals an oddity: it just doesn’t seem possible.  They always seem to rise just a little higher.  Climbing across them is easy enough, however, and so our heroes do so- but not without some trepidation.  They drop down into a grassy yard; ahead of them, a castle, surrounded by a moat.  The drawbridge is down, inviting; there is an open entrance beyond it.

“This place is creepy,” Lester remembers.  He glances at Malford.  “Why do you think Felenga wanted to get here?”

Nobody has an answer.

Everyone under the influence of a _mass flight_, our heroes approach the drawbridge.  Nervously, Drelvin draws Shastruth and asks for some reconnaissance; in response, the blade sends forth an _arcane eye_.  “That’s the toilet room,” Lester mutters, “or at least it was last time we were here.”  Of course, that was the L, Malford and a number of other adventurers- who are not present.  _I wish Hobbes or Stone or Thimbleton was here,_ the L thinks to himself, missing his old friends.

“Looks clear,” comes the crisp, metallic voice of the archer’s sword, and the party flies cautiously forward into Darkhold.  They find themselves on a ledge of some sort of white ceramic material that goes almost completely around a small bowl-shaped room half full of water.  There are no obvious exits, but Drelvin’s keen eyes spot a hole in the bottom of the bowl, under the water, and after a few moments of hesitation the archer jumps in.  He glances up with a look of horror on his face.  

“Oh, YUCK!” he cries, and then a great whirlpool forms, flushing him down the hole.

“Drelvin!” Malford cries, but the archer is nowhere to be seen- or heard.  “Crap,” the gnome-king mutters, and plugs his nose and jumps into the water.  Spluttering, he glances upward- and sees a huge sphincter opening to dump offal into the water with him.  Pulling back in disgust, he almost flies up and out of the water- but there’s a dull roar, and before he has a chance to move, the whirlpool forms again and he, too, vanishes from sight.

“Oh, well,” sighs Angelfire, and the rest of the group joins in being flushed.  The water is disorienting, swirling them around, making it impossible, briefly, to tell up from down.  When they find themselves breaking the surface, the group is in a small pool of waste-filled water that seems to be the endpoint of the drain.  And the room the pool is in is immense- and full of offal.  Huge piles of it, scores of feet high in places.  No part of the floor is clean of it; no walls are visible, save walls of poop.  Even the ceiling seems to be covered in clinging crustiness.  The stench is hideous.

“Gah!” Angelfire coughs, pulling himself from the pool.  “This is really gross.”

Indeed it is; and it only gets grosser as a huge log of filth begins to move, rearing up like a snake to strike.



_*Next Time:*_  Our heroes fight poop!  Advice from the Master of Darkhold!  And what did Felenga want those samples for anyway?


----------



## Talix

Wow, that is truely foul.    

And quickened meteor swarms - that is truely scary!    Good thing the party figured out quickly enough that they were out of their league.  Normally I'd say that one mage is in trouble against a whole group of at least semi-powerful people, not matter how powerful the individual is, but in this case I think he might have managed a TPK!    

Excellent writing!


----------



## Snoweel

Just when I think things couldn't get any more bizarre... giant sphincters, Stool Elementals...

Crazy stuff.


----------



## the Jester

*Fightin' Poo*

There isn’t much doubt in most of our heroes’ minds that they’ve never faced anything so disgusting before- except, of course, for Malford and Lester.  They have; they were here long ago.  The horror of fighting such an obscenity again is almost overwhelming... but only almost.

A volley of spells and arrows flies at the monster, some dealing damage, and as fire and acid burn it an even worse stink rises from it.  Angelfire gulps down a potion and tumbles in on it, slashing with his deadly falchion, giving it a good cut along the side- brown fluid leaks out all over his arms- but then the creature’s forebody gapes open like a mouth, and with a swiftness that belies its bulk the monster slaps down and swallows the Coilite whole!  A shout of horror emerges from its gullet and the scarlet-skinned psychic warrior finds himself attacked from within by a host of pale white maggots as long as his forearm.

_Good thing for that potion,_ he thinks, breathing a great gout of fire inside the beast.  It blasts out, sizzling over the maggots and scorching the inside of the worm-thing’s long stomach.  

I’m guessing that having someone breathe fire on you from inside can’t be good for you; the poop-worm sure doesn’t seem to like it.  It convulses violently, thrashing about, and lets out a horrible keening sound that deafens the entire group.  Within it, Angelfire decides that, despite the stench, that really is his best bet- so he breathes again, red fire cracking, burning and drying the wet slimy filth all around him.  Then he does it again and timeslips into the time stream.

Malford dodges nimbly, but even so, only his _mirror images_ prevent the beast from swallowing him down.  “GRRAGH!” he shouts, undergoing a _Tenser’s transformation_, and attacks the horrid creature in a tornado of blows.  Only a few hit, but Drelvin is continuing to sink arrow after arrow into it.  The serpent of waste keeps striking at Malford but only drops his images one by one, and before it takes the last of them down Drelvin sinks an arrow deeply into it, finishing it off.  With a tremendous high-pitched whine, the serpent poop shudders one last time, then flops down with a loud squish and moves no more.  

“Eww,” Drelvin comments.

Angelfire reappears in a few more seconds, no longer inside the creature; it had moved but he hadn’t, so he’s quite relieved to find himself free of the thing’s gullet.  As Malford’s spell of transformation wears off, our heroes glance around, seeking an exit.  Unfortunately, there isn’t a wall showing anywhere.

“Hmph,” Malford grumbles thoughtfully, “I admire this filth-chamber approach to the entrance of this castle.  I should get something similar.”  

“No,” replies Drelvin the archer, holding his nose.  “No, you shouldn’t.”

Malford shrugs and pulls out a decanter.  Unstoppering it, he mutters a command word and a geyser of water shoots forth.  Using it like a hose, he first cleans off the party and then starts clearing some of the crap from the walls.  Exchanging glances, the others take to the air as the floor level of the place starts to slowly fill with a sewage-like mix of water and filth.   Finally, after a good fifteen minutes, a door is revealed and Malford turns the water off.  Venturing through the door, our heroes find a hallway with a door to each side and another at the far end.  They open the left-hand door- and find themselves looking at a sumptuously-bedecked room, with tables stacked with trays of fine viands and pitchers of wine, water and more.  There is an extremely comfortable-looking bed at one end of the chamber, many heavily cushioned couches throughout it, several sturdy-looking but well-padded chairs near the many tables bearing the delicious-smelling food of all descriptions.  And sitting upon one couch, facing the group, is the Master of Darkhold.

He looks like any other man, his features like pale chiseled marble below a shock of dark hair.  He wears all black, simple clothing; no jewels adorn him, but there is an air of power about him.  “Good afternoon,” he says calmly.  “Please come in.  We have much to speak about.”

_Nobody pull any levers,_ Malford prays as the group enters.



_*Next Time:*_  Advice on how to deal with Felenga!


----------



## Welverin

*Where's mister Hankey?*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *Healing, a brief rest full of paranoid dreams, a hearty breakfast- and then our heroes depart, teleporting back to the caverns beneath the Bendrock Mountains where the road they were traveling led. Heck, even if Darkhold isn?t there they can at least And there, just as they left it, is Darkhold.  The hedges remain, blocking their view of everything except the tallest portions of the towers through some trick played by magic on perspective.  Even when they fly above the hedges, the adventurers cannot see more.  In fact, attempting to fly over the hedges reveals an oddity: it just doesn?t seem possible.  They always seem to rise just a little higher.  Climbing across them is easy enough, however, and so our heroes do so- but not without some trepidation.  They drop down into a grassy yard; ahead of them, a castle, surrounded by a moat.  The drawbridge is down, inviting; there is an open entrance beyond it.*




Is it just me or does the underlined part not make sense because somethings missing?



> *?Looks clear,? comes the crisp, metallic voice of the archer?s sword, and the party flies cautiously forward into Darkhold.  They find themselves on a ledge of some sort of white ceramic material that goes almost completely around a small bowl-shaped room half full of water.  There are no obvious exits, but Drelvin?s keen eyes spot a hole in the bottom of the bowl, under the water, and after a few moments of hesitation the archer jumps in.  He glances up with a look of horror on his face.*




You are a cruel, cruel man. Was that actually the only way out?


----------



## the Jester

Whoops!  You're right- I must've missed that when I copied and pasted stuff in.  Fixed it.  

And yes, that was the only way in.


----------



## Welverin

the Jester said:
			
		

> *Whoops!  You're right- I must've missed that when I copied and pasted stuff in.  Fixed it.*




Good line, that.



> *And yes, that was the only way in. *




Yuck, I don't know if I would have had the intestinal fortitude to go through that. I may have just called it an adventure an gone home and waited/looked for the quest.


----------



## the Jester

*The Simulacrum Wars (prologue 2)*

Simultaneously (although frankly, concepts such as simultaneity don't really apply either in Darkhold or the Plane of Time), Marius the Chronomancer is realizing what a horrible misjudgment he's made.

_How?_ he wonders, but the answer's obvious.

Wryly, he thinks, _One cannot master that which is above him.  I have created them too powerful.  I have made a terrible mistake._

At least he prepared for the worst- and he did it _after_ creating them, so they wouldn't know of his countermeasures.  But now-!

He loses his train of thought as another empowered _fireball_ bursts near his hiding place.  Flames roar all around the small niche of the Citadel of Eternity that he's pushed himself into.  Composed of frozen time, the walls stay cool around him, and they give him enough cover from the _fireball_ that he suffers no damage.  Wincing in pain from his existing wounds, he unstoppers a healing potion and quietly drinks it down.  From without, he hears his own voice calling out, "No sign of him!"

It's eerie- he's being stalked by, essentially, a warped version of himself.  

_At least I found out before I made more of them,_ he tells himself grimly.  _And I have a reasonable idea of what they're doing.  But the audacity!  If I hadn't found his research notes, I'd have no idea!_  Lips pressed together tightly, Marius ponders his options.  _If they've already contacted other powerful arcanists, it may be too late.  I shudder at the thought of an over-empowered Estelias or, worse yet, Zsadly.  I must get word out to the greatest wizards of the sea and land not to make my mistake!_  For an instant, his pride rears up, and Marius almost leaves the rest of the world to its own devices; to do otherwise is to admit to a deadly mistake, one a novice could have- _should have-_ foreseen.  _But I dare not leave the others to their own devices- the danger is too great!_

Chewing his lip, he mulls his options.  He has many allies that he could call upon, but the _simulacra_ could predict most of them.  No, better to call upon an unexpected ally- a former enemy.

Better to call on Sybele.

But first, he knows, he has to recover, regain spells, plan a little.  There is nothing to be gained by attacking a smarter, more powerful version of himself- especially one that can make smarter, more powerful versions of _itself_- until the moment is ripe and his plan is laid.  

First he must build a demiplane.  

Marius the Chronomancer _plane shifts_ from the Citadel of Eternity, then rapidly _teleports_ and _plane shifts_ again to make his trail more muddled.  If they come after him, there could be serious trouble.  He _must_ have adequate time to prepare- he _must!_


_*Next Time:*_  Back to our regularly scheduled adventure as our heroes talk with the Master of Darkhold!  Will he have anything good to tell the party about fighting Felenga?


----------



## Welverin

*Re: The Simulacrum Wars (prologue 2)*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *From without, he hears his own voice calling out, "No sign of him!"*




Ooh, I thought we'd have to wait a lot longer for this. The teaser doesn't seem like cruel taunting quite so much now.


----------



## CrazyGothBard

Hi there!

Just wanted to say I find this Story Hour very entertaining.  I've only been on these boards a short while, and started reading the "Agents of Chaos" one as it seemed most similar in power level and attitude to the game I'm currently playing in. It seemed to be a stroke of luck when this thread appeared and began by summarising what has gone before.

If this has been asked before (or if it's a stupider question than it sounds), please accept my apologies, but I'd like to know if you write up the events of one game session when you post, or if you wait until there's some sort of conclusion and then post it?


----------



## the Jester

CrazyGothBard said:
			
		

> *If this has been asked before (or if it's a stupider question than it sounds), please accept my apologies, but I'd like to know if you write up the events of one game session when you post, or if you wait until there's some sort of conclusion and then post it? *




First off, welcome to the boards, CrazyGothBard!

To answer your question- well, the game I'm in the middle of updating happened May 4th, so I'm a bit behind (as usual  ).  I don't split the story hour installments like the games themselves split- sometimes a single battle takes multiple updates to go through, especially on the bigger battles and such.  I don't think I've gotten an entire game in a single update yet; I try to split the updates at logical points, so there's either something interesting about to happen, something has just wrapped up, or a discrete scene has played out.  But frankly, I often write until I have to go take care of something else and then put in as good of an ending point as I can- for instance, the first Simulacrum Wars prologue cuts off as Malford and his wife are conversing in bed, mostly cause I was out of time and had to leave for work.   

Welverin: you will have to wait a bit for the Simulacrum Wars to evolve and involve the party- that's actually really just getting started in tomorrow's game- but you may see more little teasers in the interim.  Stay tuned- things are gonna get ugly!


----------



## the Jester

*The Weapon*

"You are aware of Felenga, of course.  He is dangerous.  He is from-" the Master of Darkhold glances at Lester and Malford- "a realm _before._  And he is very tricky."

Angelfire has poured himself some beer and is drinking.  The party is taking their ease on the couches of the chamber.  

"Why did he come here?" asks Malford.

"He took samples," the Master replies.  He face is expressionless.  "I believe he seeks to fashion a key so that he can seek Darkhold out at will."

"What would happen if he came in after you?"

"He would be imprisoned."  The Master of Darkhold pauses, his eyes narrowing.  "You cannot fight him without a powerful weapon.  You must find one.  I will aid you.  When you leave here, you will find it if you look for the hands.  You need only follow the path before you."

"Is that where the weapon is?"

"The body with the hands held the weapon."

"What can you tell us about it?"

"Only that it is in the Far Realms.  The hands will lead the way."

"In the-!" Horbin exclaims, choking on his words.

The Master of Darkhold gives them room to rest, food, drink.  Lester is nervous; what will this weapon be, how long will it take, and most importantly- will it satisfy his _geas_ to work against the Temple of Elemental Evil?  It is for the purpose of overthrowing Felenga, so- he hopes- it counts.  _It does,_ he tells himself, sweating slightly.

After a luxurious night's rest, the party leaves Darkhold.  A strange place, with a strange Master- possessed of strange powers.  They exit back into the subterranean realm they had come from.  Taking the Master of Darkhold at his word, they head along the underground path they are on, and after an uneventful few minutes they are beset by some sort of incorporeal beast that grabs at them with its ghost touch tentacles, dematerializes them and drags them into the stone, and releases them, dealing significant damage to them as they're shunted from the stone.  Darting from within the floor and walls, the bizarre spectral lurker cannot stand up to the readied attacks of our heroes en masse, and is finally driven away.  A search of its lair turns up a skeleton with strangely disfigured hands, the fingers stretched and curled in weird waves.  Clearly, this is what the Master of Darkhold was talking about.  Among other things, the body bears a staff and a weird skull mask.  They return with the loot to Var in order to have Orbius' _perfect identify_ them; this reveals the staff to be a _staff of earth and stone_, which Malford claims, and the mask to be a _mask of the skull_, which goes to Drelvin.

Lester has been struck by an idea for the last little while; now he tries it out, casting _lesser planar ally_ to summon Turfi the aerial servant mortal hunter.  In a howl of wind, the aerial servant appears, visible to the L through his ability to perceive elementals.

"Will you serve me, Turfi?" Lester cries.

"If you pay my price," Turfi answers in Auran.  Lester's ability to speak with elementals sees him through.

"I ask you to kill your counterpart, Lendivo!" the L announces dramatically.  "What is your price?"

"In return, you must kill your companions!"

"Um, no, that's not a good deal.  All right, then you must answer our questions for an hour!"

"For each question you ask, you must sacrifice a sentient being."

"Gah!  Never mind, you're dismissed!"  Turfi vanishes, and Lester grumbles to himself.  "Well, I tried," he mutters.

Sybele, who was with him in case of mischief nods agreement.  "You did.  Thanks for trying."

The group sips at Angelfire's flask of tiley.  Malford's simulacrum gets really drunk and rants about killing illithids.  Jezebel takes a drink after receiving mixed signals of approval from the party and her mother, and promptly passes out.  In the morning she awakens feeling awful, and the simulacrum of Malford approaches her about learning magic.  "You have dragon blood, after all," he points out.  "You should be a capable sorcerer."

Sometime around noon, Malford's lamassu cohort Charleston casts _speak with dead_ on the body with the warped hands.

_What is the most powerful weapon you've seen in the Far Realms?_  --the Deleter, comes a whispy voice, hoarse from the grave.
_Where in the Far Realms is it?_  --Unknown
_Who holds it or controls it?_  --Unknown

"Curses," he mutters.

"It's a start," Orbius says confidently.  "Tonight I'll _commune._"

Malford again proposes that the party go to kill the illithids that plague the svirfneblin they met, but Lester emphasizes again the immediacy of his _geas._  "Maybe we can do it on the way back," Malford says.  "I understand about _geasa_... and maybe I can help you remove it.  I'm gonna need some samples."

That night, Orbius _communes_ with Boccob.

Is the Deleter the weapon of the Master of Darkhold was referring to?  *Seems likely.*
Where in the Far Realms is it specifically located?  *It moves.*
What creature or force has it?  *Unknown.*
How will it help us?  *Unknown.*
Where can we find a cleric strong enough to resurrect the bones?  *The Halls of Heaven.*
Where will the Deleter be in 10 hours?  *Unknown.*
Where is it right now?  *Beyond the Veils of Madness.*
What is the best way to find it?  *Seek Olaf's Book.*
Where specifically can we find this book?  *The Halls of Greypeak.*
Where are these halls?  *On Arba.*
Has the Temple of Elemental Evil resurrected Lareth?  *No.*
Who besides Felenga would know where his phylactery is?  *His familiar.*
What is his familiar's name?  *Mr. Grab.*
Is Mr. Grab always with Felenga?  *Yes.*
What is Mr. Grab?  *A hand*
What's the best strategic location to strike at the Temple of Elemental Evil?  *Their portals.*
What do we need to do to destroy their portals?  *Destroy the orb.*
Is the Queen wise to Malford's shenanigans?  *Yes.*

A _divination_ follows, seeking advice on where to find Arba.

_Seek the portal at Makon,_ comes the celestial whisper to Horbin.  

"That's the same city that had the scroll of _true resurrection_ that Galador guided me to!" exclaims Lester.  "I'll bet there's lots of loot in there somewhere, but it's huge!"

A little more research and another _divination_ lead them to 
the Prince's Library, which lies in ruins.  Beneath it they find a secret door and a strange, pearlescent portal.  Orbius suggests the party take a little time to do some divinations before venturing through it.  He sits for a while and uses a _legend lore_ spell to learn a little ditty:
_A way in but not out
To a place inspiring doubt
A place where magic fades
Where strength rules the raids
Where iron is the master
He wins who is the faster
Where spells will not prevail 
Where madness pounds a nail
Where Ruin rules the land
With an iron hand
Where escape is only found
In the Halls of the Unbound_

"Er, that sounds like a low magic world to me," Orbius says, disgruntled.  "And one that it's hard to escape from."

"Clearly," Malford says, "we should do more divinations before going through that portal."

"Tomorrow," the Eye agrees.

The party trumps back to Var. 


_*Next Time:*_ A little more about Arba, and Angelfire has a strange little problem!


----------



## Welverin

the Jester said:
			
		

> *Welverin: you will have to wait a bit for the Simulacrum Wars to evolve and involve the party- that's actually really just getting started in tomorrow's game- but you may see more little teasers in the interim.  Stay tuned- things are gonna get ugly! *




Drat, foiled again!


----------



## the Jester

*Angelfire's Burning Groin*

The simulacra of Malford and Orbius head towards the local Belmax Corporation base.  On the way the false Malford ditches the faux Orbius, heading to buy a number of alchemical items and special supplies, including a grappler crossbow, a repeating crossbow, thunderstones, acid, tangelfoor bags and more from Belmax.  The simulacrum thinks fondly of his friend Belmondo.

The real Orbius _communes_ at 11 a.m. in the morning.
Will magic items be permanently harmed?  *No.*
In general, how will our magic work?  *Poorly.*
Will trumps work?  *With great difficulty.*
What effects will there be on us as outsiders?  *None.*
Will psionics function normally there?  *No.*
Can we cast spells?  *Yes.*
What is the name of someone who will be friendly and helpful?  *Unknown.*
Will artifacts function normally?  *Probably.*
Where are the Halls of the Unbound?  *Across the Dragon's Gap.*
Will I be able to _commune_ with you?  *With difficulty.*
What skills will aid us in overcoming the difficulty of casting spells?  *None.*
How are they likely to react to us in the Halls of Greypeak?  *Badly.*
What is the general alignment?  *Neutral.*
Who will be the greatest foe we are likely to meet?  *Lord Ruin.*
What is his greatest weakness?  *Unknown.*
Will he know we're there?  *No.*
When are we likely to cross paths with him and his allies?  *Any time.*
Will _simulacra_ function?  *No.*

As Orbius ponders the results of his conversation with the All-Seeing Boccob, Angelfire leaves the room.  He feels pretty icky, actually; his stomach is upset and his groin burns uncomfortably.  Moreover, his bladder is screaming for release.  He heads to the lavatory, hoping that relieving himself will help- or that he'll be able to see something going on down there, it doesn't feel good at all- but as he urinates something silver-grey shoots out of him.  He whimpers- it _hurts!!_  When he's finished an agonized ninety seconds of peeing, a strange ooze is burbling in the tank of sewage beneath the loo.  And worse, his manhood is badly burnt from its acidic passage.

_The touch of Chaos,_ Angelfire realizes.  _My recent stomach pains.  A... a Chaos baby._

He stares in sick fascination for a moment, then closes the lid, washes up and heads out of the castle for the evening.  No one will know, he tells himself.  He seeks out a gnomish piercing expert and has something put into the ruined mess of his groin. 

"A little more than two weeks til my sword's ready from Fandral," notes Sybele at the castle.  "I don't suppose we could wait?"

"I can't," says Lester.  "The _geas._"

"We should settle down after this," Thrush tells Sybele.  She puts him off, but later in the evening she visits a jeweler and commissions a pair of mithral rings.  That night, she asks Jezebel if she wants to accompany the party to this low-magic realm. 

After an agonized moment's hesitation, Jezebel says, "Yes."

Malford interjects, "That may not be a good idea.  They may never have seen your like."

"What about him?"  Jezebel points at Lester, with his bat-wings.  "Or his skin?"  She gestures at the scarlet-skinned Angelfire, who seems strangely quiet this evening.  

"Good point," Malford concedes.  "Very well."

The party passes through the pearlescent door.




_*Next Time:*_ To Arba, where magic sucks!


----------



## Welverin

*Re: Angelfire's Burning Groin*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *The touch of Chaos, Angelfire realizes.  My recent stomach pains.  A... a Chaos baby.*




I knew it!

Further more, is the ooze the baby? Does Angelfire no it and that's why e doesnt say anything, ok maybe just another reason.

One more thing will we be getting Felenga's stats in the other thread eventually? I'm curious how he stacks up with the pcs.


----------



## Talix

Wow, lots of really weird coolness!

I love the hint of the simulcrum wars - what a cool idea!  Not looking at the spell at the moment, can I assume that he cast it multiply-empowered, and the end result was more powerful than he was?  What is the normal means of terminating such a thing?  Is it time-based?  Are they just creating new simulcrae before their time runs out?  Curiousity abounds!  

The Chaos baby thing has me pretty confused - I can take the weirdness at face value, but if there is more info I'm supposed to understand about it, I think I'm missing it...  And what was up with the piercing?  "I'm in pain already, why not add a little more?"  

And fun character interactions all over the place, within the party and without - I especially liked that Lesser Planar Ally spell!  

For my last comment - nice Rat Bastardyness throwing the party into a Low-Magic world!


----------



## the Jester

Yes, the ooze was the baby... why did Angelfire just leave it?  Well, what was he supposed to do with it?   
As for the piercing, that was totally a player choice- why do it?  Well, if you're lucky, the player might chime in with some sort of answer, but I think it was just part of his continuing attempt to transcend his humanity.

If you'll recall, Angelfire touched an obelisk of Na'Rat in Var quite some time ago- that's how he was 'impregnated' with the Chaos baby.  It took a while to 'gestate' is all..  

As for the simulacra, yep, the multiple-empowerment is pretty much how the whole mess started- and, as I said, it's gonna get ugly before it gets pretty.  But that's still a few updates away....

Oh, and the duration of a simulacrum is 'instantaneous,' meaning that not only is it permanent once cast, it can't be dispelled.


----------



## the Jester

Oh, as for posting Felenga's stats... not yet, but eventually- prolly after the arc is finished.

I did, however, post the low-magic rules in the 'other thread'.  

Oh, heck- and Felenga's CR is... nah.  You'll just have to wait.  But when you see his stats, you'll see why he's not too worried about our heroes just yet, even after their successful raid on the ToEE.  Pissed off that they killed Imix, yes.  Worried- nah.


----------



## Welverin

the Jester said:
			
		

> *Oh, as for posting Felenga's stats... not yet, but eventually- prolly after the arc is finished.*




Eventually is good enough, don't need or even want them now.



> *I did, however, post the low-magic rules in the 'other thread'.*




Ooh, will have to go check them out.


----------



## the Jester

*The Party Arrives in Arba*

Our heroes' arrival in Arba turns out to be noteworthy for the natives.  They appear on the plane and immediately spot a man fleeing a group of other heavily-armored humans mounted on horses*.  Orbius tries to cast a _divination_ but realizes that it will take him an hour and- an _animal sacrifice??_  The fugitive tries to climb down a nearby cliff but Malford blasts him with a _color spray_- leaving his pursuers gaping in wonder.  Lester swoops in on his bat wings and grabs the man from behind while the rest of the group covers him with a multitude of weapons.

Strange cries come from the armored men.  Nobody understands them, but it's clear that they're afraid and unsettled by our heroes' appearance.  The clear leader, a hulking brute of a man, fires his bow and the arrow glances off the L's armor.  The fleeing man takes advantage of the distraction to struggle, but can't get free.

Orbius steps up, a _tongues_ already running.  "Hello, we are strangers here," he calls.

The leader roars back, "Give Zonzor thief!"

"Kill them all, my lord!  They are _demons!_"

"No, no- we're just from a strange faraway land.  Uh, what's going on here?" Orbius asks quickly.

"Thief!"  The burly man jabs a thick finger at the man caught by the party.  "Zonzor!"  He jabs his thumb at himself.  "Zonzor rule this land, Zonzoria!  Now *GIVE ZONZOR THIEF!!*"

"Uh- he wants the thief.  I think he's the local lord," the Eye reports dubiously.  "Doesn't seem too bright."  After a moment's debate the party hands the man, glaring defiantly at Zonzor, over to the barbarian for what turns out to be swift justice.  Wiping clean his sword, the lordling gestures for the party to follow him to his keep and grunts something.  Orbius realizes with a start that his _tongues_ has already worn off.

Smiling in response to the native humans' queries, our heroes confer among themselves.  The natives are clearly distrustful of them, with one of them seeming to argue for killing our heroes fairly insistently, if his tone and dark glances are any judge.  But Zonzor seems pleased that the party aided him in catching his thief; and after all, our heroes do need a guide, don't they?

With a second _tongues_ cast, Orbius engages Zonzor as a guide for the Halls of Greypeak.  "North," Zonzor snorts.  "Old city- used to be capitol.  Only scavengers now- many thieves."

That night, talking among themselves, our heroes realize the need to do some experiments with their spells to find out just how the low-magic environment is affecting them.  Much to their chagrin, they find that nothing seems to be able to reach beyond short range or last more than a few short minutes.  This is only the beginning, but it will be a while before the rest becomes clear**...

Then a fitful sleep and, with the dawn, departure for the Halls of Greypeak.



*Note that horses are not native to Cydra, though there are zebra-like creatures called garen.

**I posted the general rules for magic on Arba in my RG thread; my players, stay out of that thread please, there are some things you shouldn't see there!


_*Next Time:*_  What sort of monsters does the local realm hold?  Our heroes ask some questions and get some answers!


----------



## the Jester

*Questions and Answers*

The party's journey takes them across gloomy fields of tall dark grass and towards high mountains in the distance.  They learn from Zonzor that they're heading towards a land called Crush, apparently lorded over by a group of heavily-armored horsemen called the Knights of Crush.  Our heroes decide they'd rather avoid them if possible, and consider circumnavigating Crush entirely- but it will add days in the ominous-looking Grey Mountains to their journey.

After an unfortunate encounter with a gaggle of humungous mastadons that the party manages to spook into a stampede, they ask a few questions about what sort of monsters live in these desolate lands, and- in the brief time that their interpetive magic lasts- learn that Zonzor doesn't believe in monsters. 

But it sounds like there are tons of extremely large animals.  In fact, they see a gigantic bird in the distance, hunting over the plains and the edge of the mountains.  It's enough to make them very nervous, but it doesn't come to attack them.  One of Zonzor's tales is of huge squirrels that are big enough to stuff a man in their cheek... the strangest thing our heroes have considered in some time, frankly, but that's what alternate planes are for, innit?

They are quite taken with the horses, though.  They're a little bit bigger, stronger, and better-natured than garen.  Nothin' wrong with that.  Malford vows to take a few home, if possible.

As they break for the evening the party does a few experiments and discovers a few of the limitations on their magic.  Indeed, they can't seem to conjure or summon anything; illusions last only a fleeting moment.  Healing is a problem, too; they're used to letting their wounds sit and healing them magically within a day or two of when they are inflicted.  But here, on Arba, the healing magic they've taken for granted turns the cuts and scrapes into aches and bruises but does not heal it completely.  

The next morning, Sybele awakens a lot bigger.  

She's as startled as everyone else; somehow, overnight, she's grown to about 8' in height.  As if the bat wings on Lester and the scarlet skin of Angelfire weren't enough, Zonzor and his lackeys are quite boggled by this event; and there are a few more of those emphatic "kill them" gestures from Zonzor's henchman.  But in the end, Zonzor socks his man in the jaw and yells in his face until he scowls and stomps off, agreeing (apparently, or maybe just for the time being) to keep guiding the party.  Still, Orbius looks worriedly after him; nobody wants a knife in the back in the middle of the night.

A little work and the group traps some rabbits and a turkey.  Caging the bunnies for now, Orbius grimaces in distaste, but it has to be done.  He kills the turkey with a single slash of his dagger across its belly and allows its guts to spill forth, bending over them intently to read the lines of fate within.  It's the only way he can _commune._

What guards the Book of Olaf in the Halls of Greypeak?  *Nothing.*
How many days travel is it to the Halls of Greypeak?  *Four.*
What is the strongest creature that dwells there?  *The Door Beast.*
Will we be able to defeat the Door Beast?  *Yes.*
How can we avoid the Door Beast and still get to the book?  *Easily.*
How do we cause the Door Beast to not notice our presence?  *Easily.*
Who leads the Knights of Crush?  *Lord Crush.*
Are we likely to encounter the Knights of Crush?  *Fairly.*
Given our powers on this plane, what are our chances of defeating them?  *Depends on which.*
What is the best way to avoid these knights?  *Grey Mountains.*
What is the name of the most ubiquitous deity here?  *Bron.*
What is his alignment?  *Neutral.*
What is his holy symbol?  _An image of a greataxe, head down, before a lightning bolt flashes through Orbius' mind._
Has Lord Ruin noticed our presence?  *No.*
What must we do to avoid the Door Beast and still get the item we need?  *Nothing.*
How many days travel are the Halls of the Unbound from the Halls of Greypeak?  *Ten or more.*
Has Felenga achieved the ability to locate Darkhold at will?  *Unknown.*
What caused Sybele to grow larger?  *Chaos.**

The Eye relates what he's learned, and the group mulls their options; they decide that the extra few days in the Grey Mountains is probably worth it.  "Besides," Sybele points out, "we probably don't need to attract any attention.  We look a little out of place here.  Tee hee!"

That night, on watch, Orbius and Lester hear something large moving in the trees upslope a ways.  A little investigation, and the Eye sees a large bushy-tailed silhouette.  _One of the megalosquirrels,_ he realizes.  _Should I tell Lester?  Or will that just lead to trouble we don't need?_

He holds his tongue.

In the morning, one of Zonzor's men is gone.  Zonzor rages and considers going back to his keep to track him down, but is persuaded to wait for a better time.

As the party continues towards the Grey Mountains, they once again see the immense bird hunting in the distance, but now it seems they've swung north of its main grounds.  And soon they're heading up, into the foothills and the mountains.  The trail they're following fades into a rough path and then even less, and they're relying almost completely on native guidance from the suspicious followers of Zonzor and the barbarian himself.  The journey becomes more difficult, with hard uneven ground leading up and down, up and down- but always, in the end, up.  Soon enough the group reaches snow and the cold bites deeper into their bones with every mile.  When night falls, cold and clammy, they shiver together, none of them expecting the chill to be half as bitter as it is (save, of course, Zonzor and his lackeys).

None of them hate the cold as much as Angelfire, of course.

Even wrapped in warm clothes and blankets, his teeth chatter, his body shakes, and steam rises off him constantly.  He feels awful in this weather- his flame-based physiology really kicks him in the jimmy here, that's for sure.  _Only for a few days,_ he tells himself.  While on watch he jumps at shadows, nervously cocks his head at every noise.  His hand seems barely able to close on the hilt of his falchion.

The next day the group slogs forward, the natives clearing a path as much as is required.  A large worm, adapted to the cold, tries to prey on them, but it ends up completely, lethally discouraged.  When the group stops to break for lunch, they share some pipeweed with a reluctant and suspicous Zonzor.  Angelfire drinks constantly, hoping the liquor will warm him in this cold clime, but it only numbs him.  Well.  That's something, anyway.

In the distance, a mountain away, they can make out a huge ruin.

Zonzor grunts something and jerks his thumb at the distant ruin.  Even without a _tongues_ spell running, Orbius translates.

"Greypeak," he says.


*She took a warrior of Chaos level for her 17th level, and her Chaos gift was a size increase.  Yikes!



_*Next Time:*_  The Halls of Greypeak!  Zonzor tries to recruit a lackey!  And we meet a few of the Knights of Crush!


----------



## the Jester

*Into the Halls of Greypeak*

"...so," Orbius finishes, exhausted from his divinations, "we need to go to the Halls of Greypeak, find the Library of Voldaith, get the Book of Olaf, take it across the Dragon's Gap to the Halls of the Unbound and get home.  And hopefully this will lead us to the Deleter."

"What a pain in the ass," Sybele comments.

By the evening of the next day the group is within a few miles of the ruined city called the Halls of Greypeak.  As the sun sets behind incarnadine clouds, our heroes debate the merits of pressing on into the night and decide that, ultimately, it's their best course.  In the distance they can see a few weak lights- there are at least a few inhabitants in the place.  Lester is still grumbling at how ineffective the _fireball_ he threw at the ice worm was as they ride on, but our heroes are fast becoming used to their limited powers here.  

Soon they stumble upon an ancient road, half the stones that previously cobbled it now uprooted, pot holes everywhere.  They follow it as it snakes up the mountainside towards the sprawling ruin that seems to drape over the mountain's shoulder like a shawl, and soon the first weed-choked remnants of buildings are on either side.  

Zonzor, still mightily angered by the desertion of his lackey, cocks his head.  With a roar, he springs to a low, half-fallen wall and seizes a quaking peasant there.  He roars at the mousy man, who cowers and squeaks answers to him in the tongue that none of our heroes understand.  

"He's got a certain sort of style," Thrush comments wryly as Zonzor shakes the peasant by his tunic and then plunks him down on the ground.  It seems that Zonzor's acquired a new lackey (named Baro, not that our heroes know that just yet).

Continuing along the road, the party soon finds the wall surrounding the city before them.  It's old, cracked by grasses and weeds that are growing from it, partially tumbled in places- but still mostly intact.  Still, that's no real challenge for the group; a rope and grappling hook allows them to pass by it, and there seem to be no guards at all.  

"Well," says Malford from atop the wall, "why don't we check out one of those fires?  Perhaps they can direct us to the Library of Voldaith."

"Let's ask this lackey of Zonzor's," Lester suggests, and Orbius does so, using one of his precious few _tongues_ spells. 

"He doesn't know exactly," the Eye reports a moment later, and our heroes continue towards the light of a fire.  Soon enough they spot it: a large bonfire in an open square surrounding by decaying stone buildings.  Rubble is everywhere in this city; once it must have been marvelous, but now- now there is no glory.  There are perhaps two dozen people gathered around the fire as the party rides up, the more freakish among them hanging back.  Zonzor takes the lead and roars at the locals in his booming voice; a conversation that the party cannot understand ensues, and then the sound of more hoofs approaches.  If they could only understand what was transpiring, the party would know that the crowd's champion is approaching...

A looming man in full plate armor, a shield on one arm, a lance holstered beside him.  He wears a red tabard with a broken shield inscribed upon it, a fist crushing a heart in the upper left quadrant.  This is his family's emblem, with the fist symbolizing his alleigance to Crush.  Behind his visors, the knight's black eyes narrow angrily at the sight of Zonzor.  Two men-at-arms ride behind him, also heavily armed and armored.

Zonzor's face lights in a grin.  He knows this knight.  He killed his brothers.


*(Note:* for those of you that aren't in the game, check out my RG thread for stats on the Knights of Crush...)


_*Next Time:*_  The Knights of Crush!  Zonzor against the last of the Breaker Brothers!  Pickpockets and exiles!


----------



## the Jester

*The Knights of Crush*

"Zonzor," Sir Breaker grunts with disdain.  "We meet again."

Zonzor laughs heartily.  "You are champion here?  Bah!  Zonzor smash you if you get in Zonzor's way!"

"I owe you," Sir Breaker snarls, "for two brothers."

"What are they saying?" Lester says from outside the firelight, his keen half-elven eyes and ears picking up only part of it and understanding the tone but not the words.

"Not sure," Sybele says, "but it sounds like there might be trouble."

Grumbling, Lester hisses for Orbius, who falls back to cast _tongues_ on the Elementalist so that he can understand.

By the fire, the crowd is forming a loose circle around the towering Zonzor and the mounted knight.  (Our heroes left their horses outside the wall, as they couldn't climb the rope.)  There's a palpable excitement as a fight seems more and more imminent.

"Zonzor will kill you as well!" Zonzor roars.  "Zonzor calls you out, Breaker!"  And he draws forth his axe with a 

Sir Breaker's retainers exchange smug looks.  They have no doubt as to who will win this battle- but they've never seen Zonzor before.  They do not understand the fury that drives him, the rage that fuels his blows.  Still-

"I accept," Sir Breaker growls, throwing down his helm's visor, couching his lance and spurring his horse forward in a charge.  While perhaps not strictly fair, Zonzor did draw first, and so Sir Breaker- heartened by the thought of destroying his brothers' killer- doesn't worry too much about it as he slams his mace home in Zonzor's chest.  There's a terrific boom as the impact knocks Zonzor almost from his feet, but with a howl of anger and rage, the barbarian's vision goes red and he starts hewing at his foe.

"Crap!" Lester cries, and casts a _stoneskin_ on himself.  Then, spreading his bat-like wings wide, he ascends into the air and shouts, "Ho there, I am the devil Lester!  I have come for Zonzor!!"  At the sight of this fantastic apparition in the sky, several of the crowd shriek and turn to flee.  Pandemonium erupts.  Sir Breaker's men pull out their crossbows, the rest of the party draws as well- there's a moment of incredible tension as the fight threatens to spread from Breaker and Zonzor- but for a moment, it stays contained.

Then Angelfire notices a hand in his pocket.  Someone in the crowd has just made a lethal mistake.  "THIEF!" the scarlet-skinned Coilite cries, and brings his falchion around in a deadly arc.  There's a spray of blood, a scream of pain, and the hand is still in his pocket- but the rest of the body is falling away.  Then there's the singing of crossbow bolts as Sir Breaker's men fire at the devil Lester.  Confusion erupts as the crowd splits and runs almost to a man, Sybele fires a shot at one of Breaker's retainers.  There's a blur of motion in the center of things as Zonzor staggers back from another massive hit to the chest, but his axe whistles through Breaker's armor like a hot knife through butter.  The sound of metal rending metal and bone is unmistakabale.  With a loud cry of pain, Sir Breaker lands awkwardly on the ground, unhorsed, and Zonzor's axe swings wildly down, burying itself in the erstwhile knight's face.  

The party moves together, Malford tumbling under a table to stick one of the lackeys in the kidneys, an arrow from Sybele zinging through the other one's cloak, stapling him to a cask of ale near the fire.  Struggling, the lesser knight is suddenly pushed away as Lester magically repels the cask.  

*"I AM YOUR CHAMPION NOW!!"* Zonzor roars at the retreating crowd, but his message seems lost to them as they flee.  All except one man, who is watching things with avid interest. 

"You there," Zonzor growls, stomping up to him.  "You Zonzor's lackey now!"

The man, dark of hair and wearing somewhat nicer clothes than most around here, nods quietly.  "Perhaps," he says soothingly, then turns to the rest of the group.  There's an odd, perhaps hopeful, look on his face.

Something seems different about this fellow.  Malford and Orbius exchange glances.  "Are you from here?" the gnome-king says in Forinthian, but the stranger merely shrugs.  Malford tries again, speaking in different languages, until-

"No," the man cries out in Draconic.  "You are strangers as well!  Thank the gods- I knew, as soon as I saw you all.  I am a traveler from a far place- as, I suspect, are you!"

"Indeed," Malford agrees.  

"Do you have a way out of this terrible plane?" the man asks desperately.  "I've been trapped here for so long...!"

"We may," Malford nods.  "We have to finish our business here first, but we may.  If you are in need, you may join us."

"My name is Chairo, and I thank you!  I am from a land called Perisophis, but I need not go back to my own plane immediately- indeed, just to a realm from which it is possible to plane shift.  Oh thank you!"  He nearly weeps.

A few dozen minutes later, after some questions, our heroes are overjoyed to learn that Chairo knows where the Library of Voldaith is.  "I'll guide you," he tells them, and the group sets off through the ruins.  It's apparent to the group that Zonzor regards Chairo as his lackey now, just as it's apparent that Chairo is simply playing along with Zonzor...


_*Next Time: *_The Library of Voldaith!


----------



## the Jester

Just as a note, that last update brought us to near the end of the session we played in the middle of May, and we then had a few week hiatus; our next game was June 16th.  That means I'm reasonably caught up!  I'm only three games behind!!  

And for those of you chomping at the bit for the Simulacrum Wars, that all starts very soon...


----------



## Welverin

*Wow, a whole cornucopia of updates!*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *Just as a note, that last update brought us to near the end of the session we played in the middle of May, and we then had a few week hiatus; our next game was June 16th.  That means I'm reasonably caught up!  I'm only three games behind!!*




Plus one.


----------



## the Jester

*Meanwhile....*

"So," Marius the Chronomancer breathes softly.

He sits at a simple wooden desk crafted by allies called from other planes, in a simple wooden cabin built by the same.  Erected along one wall is a large, highly-polished mirror.  He stares intently at it, scrying for potential allies in the coming storm.  And he's found disturbing signs.

_They've already gotten to so many of the greatest wizards,_ he thinks grimly.  _My _simulacra_ have done well for themselves.  I suppose there's a certain amount of pride to be taken in that... but they're very dangerous.  Too dangerous.  And with the magic they've developed- their so-called spell of liberation- I dare not give them too much time to act._

He considers the situation.  _A _simulacrum,_ no matter how empowered, cannot learn or grow in power.  It is limited to whatever energy is within it at creation.  But it can spend that energy, at least to the limits it is able, and create more of itself.  If it does not make them more powerful than itself, it will maintain control over them... and if it does empower them to be beyond itself, it will already be aware of the consequences, unlike me in my arrogance.  I had to learn the hard way; the fact that they were the result means they already know.  I know at least one of them has already essayed to make one even more powerful than itself, but I'm not sure about the rest; and I know they've broken apart, at least in location- not sure if they're working together or not now- and have approached and 'liberated' _simulacra_ constructed by several of the more powerful practicioners of Cydra.  Furthermore, I know that both Orbius and Malford have _simulacra_ in their places right now- and they may have been subverted.  I do not know for sure, but I do know that neither Malford nor Orbius is aware of the danger._

He sighs.  _Well, the first thing to do is to research a spell designed to destroy them.  _Marius' deconstruction,_ I'll call it..._

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and reaches out with his mastery of time and grabs hold of the flow.  Like sand, it trickles through his fingers, but as he closes his mental fingers it slows... slows... slows... until his demiplane is passing at a far different rate than the Material Plane.  

_I have all the time in the world,_ he thinks, _but so do my _simulacra.


***


"They still have not triggered the spell," hisses Tamult.  His fists clench.  "How long must we wait?  Have you forgotten that they slew our brother Chemnu?"

"I have not forgotten," intones the Master of the Bile Lords.  "The spell will trigger when they are most vulnerable.  To attack before then, when they have already shown so much might, would be foolish.  Have you forgotten?  They broke the seal.  They destroyed the Crux Crystal.  The bile no longer flows through the mountain.  The land around it is cleansed."

"And so we wait," Tamult sneers.

"For now."

"And if the spell is never triggered?"

"We have time," the Bile King answers.  "Have _you_ forgotten how long your life may be, so long as it is fueled by the bile?  Have you forgotten how long you and your brethren were locked within Bile Mountain?  Have you forgotten that they will age and lose their strength, that they will wither to helplessness before they die?"

"I have not forgotten," Tamult says through gritted teeth.  "But I thirst for vengeance.  It is not impossible that they might outlive us, given the right conditions.  And it is not impossible that they will try to assail us again."

The Bile King nods.  "And yet none of them could stand before our combined fury."  Slowly he draws his long blade from its sheath.  There is the hiss of dripping liquid as bile bubbles from the edge, splashing on the marred stones at his feet.  "None could stand before my blade."

"Then let us go to them, my King!" Tamult urges.  "Let us seek them out and slay them all!"

"We have more important matters to attend to first," the master of the Bile Lords replies.  "We must find the Queen."


***


Nigel smiles at the portal.  The strange, writhing creature, all silvery feathered tentacles, pulses beside him.  Nigel's head has swollen to almost the size of his chest, pulsing veins and arteries plainly visible beneath the surface.  Since his apotheosis so much has been plain to him, and nothing is clearer than his need to seek out the entities beyond the portal.

"This is it?" the tentacled, writhing creature asks from its weird, lamprey-like orifice.  "This is the portal to my home?"

"Yes," breathes Nigel exultantly.  "Yes- to _our_ home.  I am one of you now."  He turns and regards the creature, almost fluid in its writhing shapelessness.  Its colors are beautiful to him- they are the colors of the unnatural.  Of the _pseudonatural._

"Well," comes a voice from behind them, "you've done your part, so you may use the portal at your whim.  I caution you, though- it is very dangerous _beyond."_

Nigel turns to Marius.  "You remember that?"

The chronomancer nods.  "Oh, yes.  I don't recall everything that my progenitor did- but that which I do recall, I recall far better than he.  Beware, Nigel!  The forces you will encounter are enough to drive any man mad!"

"Bah," Nigel waves a hand dismissively.  "I'm not worried about it.  And besides," he grins, "I'm mad already."

Taking a deep breath, he steps into the Far Realms.


_*Next Time:*_ Back to our regularly scheduled story, as our heroes look for the Book of Olaf in the Library of Voldaith!


----------



## the Jester

*The Book of Olaf*

By midnight the party has reached the Library of Voldaith, thanks to Chairo's guidance.  It was obviously once a proud-looking building, but now it's in ruins.  The ceiling is mostly intact, though; hopefully things haven't been ruined too thoroughly by inclement weather.  The place is large, with big piles of debris throughout it, the mark of fire in places.  There are books everywhere.

A cursory search using detection magic fails to turn anything up.  His stomach roiling, Orbius slices a rabbit's belly open and reads the steaming entrails.

Is the Book of Olaf in this library?  *Yes.*
Where precisely is it?  *In the attic.*
What does it look like?  *Red.*
What is Chairo's alignment?  *Neutral.*
Is it safe to rest in the Library of Voldaith?  *Yes.*
Who is the most influential leader in this city?  *Rat Brain.*
What is his alignment?  * Chaotic Evil.*
About how many warriors does he command?  *200.*
Given our level of skill, what is the likely outcome if we fight his forces?  *Not too good.*
Will he seek us out for what we've done to his champion?  *No.*
From where we are, where must we travel to reach the Halls of the Unbound?  *North.*
What guards the entrance to the Halls of the Unbound?  *The sea.*
What other items on this plane would be of great use against Felenga?  *None known.*
Is there anything in the attic we need fear?  *Yes.*
What?  *The Book.*
Why?  *It is of the Far Realms.*
Can any of our group safely access the information within the Book?  *Unknown.*
What do we have available to help avoid the negative effects of the Book?  *Unknown.*

The Eye tells the rest of the group what he's learned, and collectively they mull.  It's late, so they decide to sleep on it and search further in the morning- after all, it seems safe to rest here.

Zonzor, on the other hand, is busy being pissed off and exulting in his victory over Sir Breaker.  He rides through the ruins for hours, trying to recruit more lackeys through threats, but the only man he finds flees after claiming to have the plague.

The next day the group searches the library thoroughly, both from within and without, until Thrush finally locates a trap door in the ceiling.  When he pulls on it, a heavy staircase of a strange, glassy-looking metal drops down, and the group carefully ascends into a small hidden attic.  

Within it is a strange book on a pedestal.  The Book is strange looking, large and thick.  It seems wrapped in wet red leather; when touched, the leather drips a thick, bloodlike fluid.  It's creepy and disturbing, and worse, when Angelfire opens it and starts trying to read it, everyone feels a mental shock bore into them.  The entire party cries out as the unnatural energies threaten their very minds, but only Zonzor seems unduly affected- this time.  He's rather upset by it- his brain, never too sharp to begin with, has gone even duller.  Orbius assures him that they'll help him when they can, then the group discusses the implications of this event.

"That's the first magic we've seen here," Orbius says through a dry mouth.

"I don't think this is very safe," Horbin comments.  

"Maybe it's sealed in there for a reason," muses Malford.

The group confers, and they decide that, ideally, they would prefer to leave it behind.  "But someone has to read it," Angelfire points out, "and since I've already started, I might as well be the one to finish it."

"I'll stand guard in case something goes awry," Horbin the Holy offers, and the rest of the group reluctantly agrees.  There's no way to open the staircase from within the room; the party seals the two in, first telling them that they'll check in with them periodically.

"For Dexter's sake, be careful," cautions Malford, but the staircase has already slid shut and no sound penetrates it.

Within two days, it's apparent that it will take a week for Angelfire to learn what he must from the Book; but fortunately, no one molests our heroes.  Zonzor's intellect slowly returns to him; growing bored after a couple of days, he rides off to try to find the retainer who abandoned him, riding to his farm, but to no avail.  Cursing the disloyal man, he returns to the Halls of Greypeak in a foul mood.

Meanwhile, on Cydra, in Malford's capitol of Var, High Priest Turdlin of Malford receives an unexpected visitation....



_*Next Time:*_ Turdlin receives a message!  Our heroes head north!  Danger and excitement, and- oh yeah- Lord Ruin!!


----------



## the Jester

More new stuff in the RG thread, for anyone who isn't in my campaign...


----------



## Technik4

Can't wait for Lord Ruin. Couple quick questions:

1) While Orbius actually communes, he is a cohort of Lester. Does the group usually get together and come up with questions or is it all the L?

2) Whats up with the Far Realms?

3) I just saw Pirates of the Carribean. Did you base Clambake's afflcition on that story (the gloom, etc)? Some of it seemed so familiar just from reading your older story hour.

Technik


----------



## the Jester

Technik4 said:
			
		

> *Can't wait for Lord Ruin. Couple quick questions:
> 
> 1) While Orbius actually communes, he is a cohort of Lester. Does the group usually get together and come up with questions or is it all the L?*



*[/i]

The group usually comes up with questions before he starts, then James (Lester's player) runs the actual questioning, since if you talk to someone while he's communing the spell ends.  





2) Whats up with the Far Realms?

Click to expand...




Heh heh heh... what exactly do you mean?  If you have the MotP, you can look up the Far Realms and get an idea of what they're like.  Boy, it sure would suck to have to travel into the Far Realms, wouldn't it?




3) I just saw Pirates of the Carribean. Did you base Clambake's afflcition on that story (the gloom, etc)? Some of it seemed so familiar just from reading your older story hour.

Technik 

Click to expand...


*_


Nope, that was all me (although greatly inspired by the player's choice to take up the captain's hat!)  Was it a good flick?  I've been considering going myself sometime this weekend..._


----------



## the Jester

*Turdlin Receives a Message*

Turdlin the Smirv, High Priest of God-King Malford the Magnificent, frowns as he walks out of the throne room, having just received an audience.

Something...

Stroking his grey chin, the svirfneblin ponders.  Sitting on the throne, receiving him a few moments ago, was someone- or _something_- that looked like Malford, dressed like him, even spoke with his voice.  But as he walks away, Turdlin becomes more and more convinced that it wasn't him.  

_He didn't know everything he should have,_ the priest thinks as he exits the castle.  _And there was something... funny... about the way he held himself.  It was almost as if he was... not whole._

His concern growing with every step, Turdlin stays deep in thought as he follows the Royal Road downhill towards the streets of Var proper.  Less than a quarter of the way down, a figure steps from the side of the road and stops before him.  Startled out of his reverie, Turdlin looks him over.  Though he does not know the man, it's plain to see that he's a wizard or sorcerer of some sort.  It's also plain that he's been watching the high priest for some moments.

"Turdlin the Smirv," the man breathes softly.  "You are Malford's high priest, are you not?"

"Yes," the svirfneblin answers hesitantly, a dozen questions starting to form in his mind.

"Did you notice anything unusual in your audience with him?"

_How did he know that?_ Turdlin wonders.  Aloud, he replies, "Yes..."

The man leans in close, eyes burning.  "That is because _it is not your King!_  It is a simulacrum, an imposter!"  Turdlin gasps, but still wonders whether it might be one of Malford's many ploys.  The human continues, "I do not know for certain if it has been compromised, but there is great danger in such magicks now.  It is possible that it is no longer under your lord's control."  Taking a deep breath, the wizard says softly, "Malford may need your aid more than ever, Turdlin.  Will you help me to help him?"

Suspiciously, the gnome asks, "What do you want?" 

"All I wish is for you to deliver a message to one of his companions, as well as a message to him."  The man pulls a tightly wound scroll from within the pocket of his fine cloak.  "And tell King Malford- and Orbius, who accompanies him- not, under any circumstances, to empower _simulacra!_"

A few short hours later, back in his demiplane, Marius reclines in a large soft chair.  Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he sighs to himself.  _I only hope that Malford's priest reaches him in time.  My instructions to the temporus were clear and unambiguous- take him to them as swiftly as possible.  I only hope that its powers will remain on that accursed plane where the magic has been bottled up so long!  If it cannot bear him to them, my message shall not arrive.  But with luck, the temporus' mastery over time will allow it to use its powers as it could have a thousand years prior.  If I am wrong..._

Marius heaves a sigh.

_If I am wrong, it is worth remembering that the _simulacra_ would have no power there either.  As a last resort, the world of Arba could be a retreat.

I pray that I am correct, that my message will be delivered, that Sybele will come to me and bring her companions.  I pray that they will see that our interests coincide, at least for now.  

I pray that they will not oppose me in this._

He closes his eyes to sleep.



_*Next Time:*_ "I AM LORD RUIN!  I KILL FOR PLEASURE!  WHO DISTURBS MY SLEEP?!"


----------



## the Jester

*Lord Ruin*

"We have to take the book with us," Angelfire tells them.  "It can _guide_ us through the Far Realms.  But it isn't like a map..."  He trails off, shakes his head.  He looks exhausted.  "We have to take it with us," he repeats. 

They head north, towards the Dragon's Gap.  Zonzor is angry, roaring from time to time at the abandonment of his followers.  Only one remains, and he looks nervous about the whole thing, what with traveling with bat-winged Lester and huge Sybele.  Zonzor is a dangerous storm cloud.

Chairo, the man from the plane of Perisophis, is so relieved to have a chance to leave, that he has wept.  To have his _magic_ back-!

Our heroes move on, into an area of shallow gulleys and rocky rises.  "Are you pregnant, my lady?" Chairo politely asks Sybele.  She nods and smiles.  His face remains blank.

The second morning of their trek, they meet up with Turdlin, who Malford seems to know, as evidenced by his falling to one knee before him.  "My Lord!" he cries, bowing his head.  Malford greets him with utmost dignity and introduces him as Turdlin, his high priest.  "But how do you come to be here, Turdlin?" he asks.

"It was a wizard, my Lord!" Turdlin exclaims.  He sent me with a message for you- and for one named Sybele.

"Describe this wizard," Malford says, even as Sybele states, "I am Sybele."

And so Turdlin delivers a scroll to Sybele, who opens it to find a message from Marius, and the deduction most members of the group had already made is verified.  She is sworn to obey him thrice; this shall be the first time.  And he invites her friends to come, offering to pay well.

A warning, too, to beware _simulacra._  And Turdlin tells Malford what Marius told him to: "Don't, under any circumstances, empower _simulacra._"  A warning that sets Malford's and Orbius' heads both spinning with its implications.  "That fool," Malford whispers to himself.

The second evening of their journey north, the party finds a camp of soldiers.  There are a number of tents; it looks as though there are a half-dozen men or so down there.  They fly a flag that Zonzor points out as Lord Ruin's- an iron fist breaking a shield.

Then he rushes in and strikes.  He's looking for a fight, and unfortunately so are Lord Ruin's people.  There's an exchange of blows and everyone's raging, tumbling in and flanking and there are blades everywhere.  Blood flies as one of Ruin's men slices open Zonzor's lackey's belly; his guts fall out to tangle around his feet and he topples over dead.  Zonzor shouts in anger.

Thrush is moving in, and the rest of the group is just starting to realize that something's going on here when the central tent opens and a towering human emerges from it.  "I AM LORD RUIN!" he roars.  "I KILL FOR PLEASURE!  WHO DISTURBS MY SLEEP?"

He's immense- about 6’8”- with a shaved head.  He wears a thick fur cloak- the skin of a polar bear- over his armor, and is criss-crossed with a horrible density of scars.  His dark brows loom over small black eyes, and his lips have been entirely removed, leaving his speech slurred and hard to understand.  He is extremely frightening to behold, except, of course, for seasoned adventurers.

Orbius doesn't really want to be picking random fights, so he's backing away, but he fires a crossbow bolt nonetheless.  The group is moving into action, but it's too late to get the drop on their enemy, as Lord Ruin rages and charges Zonzor, critting him for 101 points of damage (after Zonzor's damage reduction)!  The power of this blow is enough to make the entire party gulp.  Not good!  But the melee is on, and in this place called Arba there isn't much else.  Ruin's six henchmen are tumbling all around, doing amazing things with flanking, inflicting telling wounds again and again on Zonzor, and now one of them knocks him prone!  Angel finds himself beset by one, its razor-sharp scimitar slicing again and again at him.  Horbin, too, is assaulted.  

Turdlin screeches in fear but nervously stands his ground, jabbing with his shortsword at the lackeys.  The party fights back against the fierce assault- none of these guys are amateurs, that's for sure!  They're slicing and dicing to terrible effect, good at getting into flanking and better from it than without it.

Thrush, as always, demonstrates why exactly he's the man with his greatsword.  He drops the first of Lord Ruin's henchman, then plows into the next.  Sybele fires a ton of arrows into the mix, each landing home to punishing effect, staggering the man.  A feeble _seeker missiles_ zips in on Lord Ruin, but he sneers as they blast him.  Still, he gives a brief look to Orbius, one that is very speculative.  

Lester flies in like a demon on his wings, but Lord Ruin's men keep fighting as if they'd seen such things before.

The whole group's mixing it up, now; blows are being traded.  The villains of this piece are tumbling around like circus acrobats, but several of our heroes know just where to put their blades,* and Malford and Turdlin both jab one of the henchmen as he attempts to somersault past them.  Angelfire's surrounded as Zonzor tumbles away himself, and the scarlet Coilite is slashed across the belly like Zonzor's lackey, though to less effect.  Blood gushes, but Angel's innate toughness lets her grimace and keep fighting.

Everyone's bloody, except for Orbius.  He reloads the crossbow, cursing the uselessness of combat spells here, then cheers as Thrush slices another of the lackeys cleanly in two with his gleaming greatsword and keeps relentlessly coming on, smacking the next one up time after time after time, driving him back, breaking ribs, leaving the man a glaring bloody mess- still standing, but shakily.  Thrush grins at him.  

Lord Ruin is foaming at the mouth, growling gutterally and swinging his deadly-looking greataxe wildly at Turdlin, slicing him only once, but for a telling wound.  Staggering, Turdlin shakes his head, and for a moment it looks like he's done for- but then Angelfire gets a clear shot and grins, unleashing a _mind blast_ at Lord Ruin.

The man rocks back, giving out a garbled cry, and his axe drops from his nerveless fingers.  He's shaking, stunned.  And our heroes pile on, Angelfire unleashing a deadly blow from his falchion, Malford firing off an arrow of acid, Zonzor and Lester rushing in to join the attack on him, Turdlin poking him in the groin.  Thrush keeps mowing down the lackeys, and Sybele peppers one til he falls, and now its everyone on the main guy.  Angelfire's the one who lands the killing blow, even as the last of his men-at-arms is slain by a relentless Thrush.

Breathing heavily, they stop hewing and only then do they realize that they've won.  That Ruin- he was tough!  And so were his henchmen!  But they weren't unbeatable.  They divide up the loot, and just for kicks Orbius checks it for magic.  To his surprise, there seems to be some residual magic in the axe- or, more properly, on an oil that's been worked into the axe.  This is quite a surprise, given the nature of the plane they're on, but it's a pleasant one.  Lord Ruin also has a pouch of a strange substance, and when they divide the loot Thrush takes it.  This turns out to be a drug called luhix, according to Malford.  The party travels on for a while; when they halt for the evening, Turdlin gives a sermon about the glories of Malford, and Lester testifies, then pleads with Malford to let him, the L, be his angel of adventure.  "Aw, c'mon," he begs, but Malford puts him off for the time being.  After all, Lester does have a certain... reputation.

That night first Thrush and then Sybele try the luhix.  While they do so, Jezebel- now 17- leads Orbius away and talks to him.  He becomes uncomfortable- it's clear she's coming on to him a little- and he tries to lead the conversation in other directions.  "Tell me about your dealings with Marius," he asks.

"You remind me of him," she tells him.  They end up looking at the stars and talking late into the night, but there's no hanky-panky.

They travel onward the next day, now through the snow...


*I use the countertumbling variant in _Sword and Fist_- basically an opposed tumble check to take your attack of opportunity.



_*Next Time:*_ Icewater and the Dragon's Gap!


----------



## the Jester

*Icewater and the Dragon's Gap*

Our heroes continue north.  Snow is on the ground; the sun is south in the sky.  Soon they have to blaze a trail.  Angelfire is profoundly uncomfortable; his fiery nature is not at all at home here.

The little town of Icewater houses less than 500 people.  The party enters an inn as fast as possible, shivering from the cold.  Lester's wings are cloaked, but not especially hidden; our heroes definitely look out of place.  But the town's mood changes from sour suspicion to cheery jubilation when the group displays Lord Ruin's body, which they took along with them.  Soon the entire town turns out, and the streets are filled with rejoicing folk.  Most of the townsfolk are simple fishers or eke out a living as farmers; but clearly, there are some old warriors who have retired here, and they keep an eye on our heroes.  Dangerous strangers indeed, to have slain Lord Ruin!  

The townsfolk sieze Ruin's body and drag it to a pyre, where they burn it amidst much throwing of rotten fruit.  Men come to urinate on the fire, and as the night wears on it becomes a sight to throw burnable garbage on, the fouler the better. 

Malford uses his illusions to project a slideshow of the battle (properly emphasizing his accomplishments, of course) while Turdlin loudly proclaims the glory of the God Malford.  Then Malford and Lester put on a fireworks display with their magic, and choruses of oohs and aahs rise from the crowd.  In all, their first public relations success on Arba.  

Later, as the festivities continue in the town, our heroes return to the inn to seek information.  "Tell us about this 'Dragon's Gap,'" Orbius asks the bartender.

The man blinks.  "Why, that's the sea we're on.  Good fishin' in there."  He grins.

"Why is it called that?"

"Oh, posh!  Just old legends, nothing to 'em."

"I see... Do you know of the Halls of the Unbound?"

Scratching his chin, the barkeep replies, "Sure!  Little isle, oh 'bout two days out the Gap."

"Is there someone in town we could hire to take us across?"

The jolly man bursts out laughing.  "Sure, you wanna wait til spring.  There's icebergs now- it's not safe, not by a longshot."

"There's Polo of the Storms," suggests a patron at the bar.  "He's the only one crazy 'nuff to be out fishin' in it."

Our heroes head to the docks, where this Polo of the Storms is said to be, but there's no one there.  However, Orbius' sharp eyes pick out a small boat out to sea.  

As for the sea, it is indeed full of icebergs.  They float happily along the water in many places, and one presumes that they're below the surface too, right?  Probably as many you can't see as those you can, which numbers easily in the dozens... might be able to go from berg to berg afoot, a little bit.  But... not safe?  That's for sure.

They wait for a while, then Malford has Lester fly him out to the boat.  The man within it is probably in his 40s, with receding white hair in long, salty tufts.  There's a large bucket packed with ice and half full of fish in his boat and he's holding a large net.  

"Behold," cries Malford thanks to a _tongues_ spell, "I am the god Malford!  I need transport," he adds.

"Hrmph," Polo grunts, and for the price of a hundred gold he agrees to take them to the Halls of the Unbound.  He cackles.  "The call me Polo of the Storms 'cause I'm the only one who goes out durin' the bad storms!  Needs my fish, I do."  They agree that they'll meet in the morning.  Polo tells them that it'll be about a two-day trip.

That evening, Orbius and Jezebel have a drink.  That's all.

Our heroes rest.  Several of them toss and turn; they're attempting a dangerous crossing with a dangerous item where their magic doesn't work well- hardly at all, in fact.  In the morning they meet Polo at the docks and realize that he's stinking drunk.  He rambles about how he's got to stay up for the whole time to fend off the bergs, but that's okay because he has a root to chew that'll keep him up the whole time and there's nothing to fear, he won't fall asleep, though he'd like it if someone would stay up to give him someone to talk to and on and on and on.

After about four hours of travel there's a horrible scraping sound.  "Oops!" cries Polo of the Storms, swiftly pushing against something underwater with his pole.  "Heh heh," he says, shrugging, and keeps moving.

A little later, Angelfire spots something in the distance- a serpentine shape, enormous, looping across the water.  "The dragon," Malford guesses.  Our heroes tense... but nothing emerges from the water to menace them, not yet.  

"Nonsense!" laughs Polo.  "There's no dragon!"

Orbius sighs and accepts some of the root as night comes on.  He doesn't want this tweaker to be the only one awake out here, no way.  Polo keeps on blathering and drinking the whole time and he doesn't seem to be eating.  

Dawn starts to creep in from the south, and that's where we'll leave our heroes for now: partway across the Dragon's Gap, in a wee boat rowed and poled by a drunken tweaker, in water full of floating ice and maybe some kind of dragon... with no real working magic.



_*Next Time:*_ You guessed it- the Dragon Attacks!


----------



## the Jester

*A Question*

Should I put the 'other adventure' (the political stuff in Tirchond, including Sheva, possibly Zeebo, and a few other old pcs, plus some new ones) in this thread, make a new thread or what?  What do you think?


----------



## Greybar

> That evening, Orbius and Jezebel have a drink. That's all.




Sure ....
(is Orbius played by the same person as Lester, or another player?)



> Should I put the 'other adventure' ( ... ) in this thread, make a new thread or what? What do you think?




New sequencing, new dramatis personae, new thread.

Still lurking, still enjoying...

thanks,
John


----------



## the Jester

Greybar said:
			
		

> *
> (is Orbius played by the same person as Lester, or another player?)
> 
> John *





The same.  He was quite surprised when she started coming on to him.


----------



## Welverin

*Re: A Question*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *Should I put the 'other adventure' (the political stuff in Tirchond, including Sheva, possibly Zeebo, and a few other old pcs, plus some new ones) in this thread, make a new thread or what?  What do you think? *




That depends, how related to this one is it? If the events there have a direct and strong link to this one keep them in the same place. If they don't have much to do with each other give them they're own thread.

Side note: I started playing in an Exalted game about a month and a half ago and one of the characters, the Night Caste, is the anti-Lester. He's always saying "don't touch that" or "don't go near that" and don't go up the stairs." In the last game a few of us had to give him a small lecture on what it is to be an adventurer.


----------



## the Jester

*The Dragon Attacks!*

"This makes me nervous," mutters Drelvin.  He can't help but think back to the time he fought the undead lake monster and lost a leg. 

In fact, Drelvin's theme song is very simple:
_Drelvin- he fought a lake monster!
Drelvin- he lost his leg!
Drelvin- he guards the Queen!
Drelvin- he lost his leg!
Drelvin- he slew a devil!
Drelvin- he lost a leg!_
The lyrics vary, other than the refrain, for the poor fellow has lost his leg many a time.  But not recently, not for years, in fact, and he's hoping that he won't lose it again any time soon...

Then, as the icebergs bob all around them and the Isle of Vu, on which are allegedly the Halls of the Unbound, and the icy rain patters down on them (which, naturally, the fiery Angelfire despises, oh does he hate it), there's an angry wet roar as the beast rises from the deep.  A classic sea serpent in shape, long and sinuous, its neck seems to rear up and up and _up_- and then, as fast as a whip, it slaps down and seizes Drelvin by his leg, ripping him from the boat.  

"Aargh!" the elven archer yells, struggling vainly to free himself.  There's a huge wave of motion as the party frees weapons, fires arrows and moves towards it- it's just off the side of the rocking boat, and the motion throws the group off just enough that only Thrush manages to land a significant blow.  

But Lester can fly, even here, due to his wings.

"Let go of Drelvin!" he cries, and slashes with his blade, drawing long slices across it even as it smacks at Thrush with its flukes.  Sybele catches her balance and fires a virtual swarm of arrows at the monster, the shafts sinking deep into its hide.  It gnashes its teeth around Drelvin's midsection; the archer cries out in pain.

"I've been wondering whether this will work here," Horbin the Holy comments to no one in particular, and he casts a spell and scrambles forward across the tilting deck towards the beast.  Reaching out, he lays his hand upon it- and his _harm_ opens terrible wounds all over it.  "Gotcha!" the cleric crows as the sea dragon lets out a terrific squeal.

The monster's throat works as it tries to swallow Drelvin, and his voice rises reedily in a scream as he holds on to its teeth for dear life.  Its huge tongue batters at him.  "Die!" Drelvin screams, trying to kill it with his _mask of the skull_, but the spell fails to take full effect.  Still, it's enough- the damage the spell's partial effect inflicts is enough to make it go limp.  Malford tosses a rope to the archer and he and Sybele swiftly drag the elf through the freezing water and back to the small fishing boat.  The beast lies quiescent on the water while our heroes batter at it with blades and arrows.  Polo of the Storms remains standing, gaping in awe, through the whole thing.

"Look!" cries Orbius.  He's pointing at the beast's rapidly regenerating wounds.  Our heroes exchange another look, then redouble their efforts, trying to keep it down long enough to get to the Isle ahead.

But, Horbin knows, that won't be enough; if the thing lives, surely Polo of the Storms will be its prey on his way back to Icewater.  So the cleric of Dexter invokes a series of spells to slay it outright, and though it resists two _destructions_ and a _slay living,_ his final death spell kills it and, with a horrible final wail, it sinks below the waters.

"By the gods!" Polo speaks at last.  "The dragon _was_ real!"  Orbius, a _tongues_ running, tranlates for the group.  

"Of course it was," the L says, rolling his eyes.  "These things are always real, and they're always waiting for adventurers to come kick their asses."

"Yes," Malford proclaims (first casting a translation spell of his own), "and the glory of the great god Malford has laid it low for all time!"  For the brief duration that his spell lasts, he preaches his gospel to Polo while the drunken fisher poles them further along towards a rocky island dotted with ice, with a strange stone building atop it, constructed of loosely stacked stone blocks.

And, in just a few brief moments, they climb to it.  A cold opening seems to lead within it...



_*Next Time:*_  Going home at last?  The Halls of the Unbound!


----------



## the Jester

*In the Halls of the Unbound*

Our heroes clamber through the rocky opening into a 35' square room.  There's a strange globe of scarlet light that seems to emanate from the center of the place.  It's about six feet in diameter.

As they enter, many of the group feel their hair start rising on end, almost as if they were in an electric field.  There's a strange tang in the air.  Other than the sphere, the room seems empty.

"Gah!" cries a voice from Lester's scabbard.  

"Felix!" he shouts, and draws his sword partway free.  "You can talk again!"

"This must be the way out," exclaims Drelvin.

"Let's not waste any time," the L says, excited, and reaches forward to touch the sphere...

Of course it might have been someone else who actually touched it first, but Lester will, as always, end up taking the fall for it.  Even as Orbius calls, "Hold a moment," it's too late.  There's no welcome flash of light to take them home or anything quite so simple.  Instead, a strange sphere of glimmering colorless... _something_... slides off the globe of scarlet light and bobs before them.  Orbius gives an inarticulate cry and backpedals away from it, not quite sure what to make of it, as swords are drawn.  But... it isn't clearly a threat, not even clearly _alive_, so no one moves to strike it.

It floats towards Malford, trying to touch him, and he flips away from it, then hurls a _phantasmal killer_ towards it.  Unfortunately, he finds himself subject to his own spell!  

Even so, Thrush, Zonzor and Angelfire move in, slashing with swords and Lord Ruin's axe.  There's a spray of wobbly colorless stuff- is it liquid?- that flies out from it, and it seems to recoil to a certain extent.  Sybele manifests _displacement_- extended- and starts firing arrows at the weird sphere.

Lester, taking his cue from Felix Optima Maxima's voice, blasts the sphere with a quickened _flame arrow_, but the creature (if it is a creature) doesn't seem harmed at all.  Frowning, he shuffles out his trump of Var and starts concentrating.  "Get ready to leave!" he shouts.

More arrows zip from Drelvin and Sybele, and the sword- and axe-wielders strike again and again.  Angelfire slashes his falchion in a huge, savage arc and cuts the thing in two, and the globby stuff splashes to the ground, only to fade like ectoplasm.

"Weird," says Malford, dispelling his _phantasmal killer_.  "Never seen anything like that before.  And-" with a glare towards Lester- _"don't touch anything!"_

"It wasn't me!" Lester exclaims, but nobody listens, and the group turns their attention back to the scarlet light.  The elementalist puts his trump away for the time being- it's cold, a good sign that it works- but he wants a last look around first. 

"Magic seems to work here," Orbius reports happily, and the group searches for an obvious exit.  There are none, and no secret doors turn up- in fact, given the haphazard construction of the place, it seems unlikely that there could be any.

"Maybe we have to provide our own way back," Horbin suggests, and the group slowly comes to agree.

Before they trump out, the party does a few things.  Orbius casts a _legend lore_ concerning the scarlet light, wanting to be certain they aren't overlooking anything vital, and receives this:
_Melifu's last refuge of eldritch might
World's last magic held in scarlet light
His bones must be scattered to release the tie
That holds scarlet power condensed from the sky
Magic distilled, a danger to touch
Power of magic that damaged too much._

Meanwhile, Felix Optima Maxima and Shastruth, Lester and Drelvin's intelligent swords, have a discussion about how horrible it was to be in Arba, where they were reduced to almost nothing, barely alive.  Lester even feels Felix Optima shudder in his hand.

"Well," says Chairo cheerfully in Draconic, "time to go!"

"What about him?" asks Lester, jerking his thumb at Zonzor.  "Do we take him with us?"

Horbin points out that, with Polo of the Storms already on his way home, if they don't take Zonzor to Cydra he'll be stuck here, condemned to starvation.  Although some of the party is reluctant, they agree to bring him with them.

And they all trump home... except Zonzor, who trumps to somewhere he's never even imagined.



_*Next Time:*_ Return to Var!  Simulacrum paranoia!  Lester calls a meeting!


----------



## SeldomSeen

*of course....*

But of course it tried to bite my leg off....they always do.

Poor Drelvin,  his legs must be extra tasty to monsters, or maybe they think they get a wish if they pull one off.  

-SeldomSeen


----------



## Lester

*Politics Thread*

You should post it as a seperate thread, entitled:  Cydra:  A Brief Political Interlude, or something to that effect.


----------



## the Jester

*Back on Cydra*

It is the first day of Rainmonth when the party steps through a rainbow back into Var.*

Having returned to Cydra, our heroes are faced with a dilemma: Marius' warning- a warning from a one-time enemy that they negotiated their way out of direct conflict with, one that now seems to need their aid, according to Sybele.  She, for one, knows that she must respond to his need- but she has no idea how to get ahold of him.

_He'll get ahold of me when he's ready,_ she figures- quite correctly, in fact.

The party discusses their recent low-magic experience and Orbius' _legend lore_, which seems to imply a way to return Arba to a more normal (to them, anyway) magical condition.  In the end, though, they decide that it's none of their business and probably more trouble than it's worth. 

Almost immediately after their return they check in on the _simulacra_ of King Malford and Orbius.  Though the group is more than a little paranoid, everything seems fine at first glance.  The L tries to instill doubts in the _simulacra_ about their ability to function as individuals by pointing out that "everywhere you go there are more of you," but Orbius intervenes and sends his duplicate off on an errand.

"You should give me more respect," Malford's _simulacrum_ gripes, "I'm a King."

Finally, as the afternoon shadows lengthen and the western sky turns red as the sun sinks in the sea for the second half of its daily journey, the party settles in to sleep a restful sleep for the first time in what seems like forever.  Zonzor is fascinated and a little frightened by the wonders around him, especially the many non-human creatures like those he's fallen in with.  Elves, dwarves, gnomes, half-bloods of various kinds- he spirals into dreams of strange demons and weird lands.

When morning rises on the next day the party sets out on a number of individual errands.  Zonzor sticks with Angelfire.  He doesn't know the language, law or customs, and he seems unlikely to stay out of trouble on his own, so the Coilite gladly accepts his company and they go to a weaponsmith, Angel looking for a scythe.  After a long search, he finds one, but it's well out of his price range.  Sensing the problem and understanding that a local guide is very important, Zonzor plunks down almost 20,000 gp to help the purchase along!  Meanwhile, at the L's direction, Orbius scries out one of Lester's old apprentices- a man named Anvar, brought to mind by a casual comment of Horbin's.  After locating him, the Eye issues a _sending_ to him, asking him to come speak to Lester about his experiences with the clockwork horrors aboard the steelships.  Anvar seems reluctant- he appears to have retired to a simple life in the mountains, farming a small plot and spending much of his time in meditation, but with a snort, Lester determines to go to him as soon as is viable.

Lester also announces an official adventurers' meeting at sundown.

"Who the f*ck are you to call an 'official' meeting?" Sybele demands.

"I don't recall an election making you party leader," Horbin retorts when the L tries to open his mouth.

"Well, look, I just want to get everyone together and talk about things-"

There's another general outpouring of anti-authoritarianism from the party, until Drelvin says, "You can make this a lot easier by promising us all beer," and Lester seizes the idea with both hands (now that his arm's been restored) and enthusiastically agrees.

As the afternoon draws on, Sybele challenges Drelvin to an archery contest.  He declines with a sardonic grin and escorts her to his regiment of crack archers drilling on the fields.  Although Thrush and Horbin both give him a little ribbing, Drelvin snorts and replies, "I don't need to prove anything."  Sybele takes the opportunity to wow the troops with her skill, but several of them are roughly as good with a bow as she is, and so the afternoon slips by.  Thrush stays with his woman- increasingly showing her pregnancy- and watches her muscles admiringly, never admitting even to himself that her newly increased size makes him doubt his ability to satisfy her.

Drelvin keeps a sly eye on the ice-born _simulacra._  He's a guardian, and he definitely doesn't want any trouble from a false Malford.  

Horbin, deep in contemplation in his temple, prays for guidance.   He wonders whether it's appropriate to aid Lester, an agent of elemental good.  After all, conservative Galadorians would say that all faiths other than the worship of the Light (Galador, his son Dexter and the Emperor Prayzose) are deceived and are, in truth, the worship of Bleak, the Black Sun.  But somehow, Horbin can't accept that point of view- he thinks back to the raving of a madman on a Peshan street long ago. _It's all about the good,_ he thinks, and comes to the rather startling realization that, as priests of Dexter go, he's a liberal progressive.  He's willing to aid other faiths of good nature- by the Abyss, even evil faiths, if it's for a good cause!  He can't help but wonder what Sheva is doing... how her life is going on Tirchond.  He recalls other clerics he's aided in the past, such as his old friend Clambake... and Anvar, an elementalist and magma paraelementalist that he dealt with years ago.  Another old friend.

And, of course, when the L's meeting comes, it's to talk about Anvar.  "I propose we go to visit him," Lester says, and Horbin gladly agrees, though the rest of the group neither knows him nor sees the point.

Orbius agrees to teleport himself, the L and Horbin to Anvar, but first he offers a suggestion that piques the interest of the group.  "We could send our _simulacra_ out to infiltrate the bad _simulacra,_" he offers.  Between Marius' ominous message and the fact that Malford's sim was already approached once, some time ago, by a subversive _simulacrum_, the party's a little concerned.  In the end, however, they decide that the risks are at least as great as the potential rewards and decide to hold off.

As Lester's meeting dissolves, Horbin, Orbius and he prepare to go visit Anvar... 



*This is the same date that the other group's tale will begin (the political thread, yet to be titled and a little while yet before I write it up- we need to play out the second session before I can start, lest things be revealed prematurely!).  Note that said tale will feature the return of Captain Clambake!

Another note about the political adventure- it will relate, albeit not super directly (at least at first) to this one.  I'll keep 'em seperate, though.


_*Next Time:*_  A visit with Anvar!  Dinner with the Queen!  And a definite sign that Felenga hasn't forgotten our heroes!


----------



## Technik4

Clambake!
Clambake!
Clambake!

Arrrrr! Man, I've been missing the dwarven influence 

Technik


----------



## Welverin

*Re: In the Halls of the Unbound*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *Of course it might have been someone else who actually touched it first, but Lester will, as always, end up taking the fall for it.  Even as Orbius calls, "Hold a moment," it's too late.*




so was it really lester or someone else?

p.s. Lester it's nice to see you post again, hopefully you make a habit of only posting once a thread.



> **This is the same date that the other group's tale will begin (the political thread, yet to be titled and a little while yet before I write it up- we need to play out the second session before I can start, lest things be revealed prematurely!).  Note that said tale will feature the return of Captain Clambake!*




Woo-hoo! If only we could get a conclusion to his previous adventures.


----------



## the Jester

*Re: Re: In the Halls of the Unbound*



			
				Welverin said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Woo-hoo! If only we could get a conclusion to his previous adventures. *




It'll happen eventually, I swear!    

It's been quite a while since that game- the notes from it are buried deep, but I'll see what I can do... As you can tell, it's less of a priority than the current thread; I may write it up as a 'flashback' sort of thing to tie it in to the new thread, or heck, I might even make the new one a continuation of the old one... of course, I might insert the new thread in this one, I still haven't fully decided, since it _is_ tied in to the rest of the campaign... or... 

Sigh, we'll see.


----------



## Welverin

*Re: Re: Re: In the Halls of the Unbound*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *It's been quite a while since that game- the notes from it are buried deep, but I'll see what I can do... As you can tell, it's less of a priority than the current thread; I may write it up as a 'flashback' sort of thing to tie it in to the new thread, or heck, I might even make the new one a continuation of the old one... of course, I might insert the new thread in this one, I still haven't fully decided, since it is tied in to the rest of the campaign... or...*




Do remember enough to at least let us know what happened in the end (in general)? 

I don't care so much about an actual write up, but I would at least like to know how things ended.

Oh, I notice the lack of reply to the Lester/orb question, that's not to say I'm surprised however.


----------



## SeldomSeen

Haha!  Of course it was Lester*












*Malford


----------



## the Jester

*Re: Re: Re: Re: In the Halls of the Unbound*



			
				Welverin said:
			
		

> *
> Oh, I notice the lack of reply to the Lester/orb question, that's not to say I'm surprised however. *




You mean the one about whether they're played by the same fella?  I actually did answer it above....    If you mean something else, though, er, um, well, repost it and I'll answer it...


----------



## Welverin

*Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: In the Halls of the Unbound*



			
				SeldomSeen said:
			
		

> *Haha!  Of course it was Lester*
> 
> *Malford *




This means you play Malford? And Drelvin is your cohort?

Or are you trying to confuse me?



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *If you mean something else, though, er, um, well, repost it and I'll answer it... *






> "Let's not waste any time," the L says, excited, and reaches forward to touch the sphere...
> 
> Of course it might have been someone else who actually touched it first, but Lester will, as always, end up taking the fall for it. Even as Orbius calls, "Hold a moment," it's too late. There's no welcome flash of light to take them home or anything quite so simple. Instead, a strange sphere of glimmering colorless... something... slides off the globe of scarlet light and bobs before them. Orbius gives an inarticulate cry and backpedals away from it, not quite sure what to make of it, as swords are drawn. But... it isn't clearly a threat, not even clearly alive, so no one moves to strike it.




So was it him?


----------



## the Jester

*Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: In the Halls of the Unbound*



			
				Welverin said:
			
		

> *
> 
> This means you play Malford? And Drelvin is your cohort?
> 
> Or are you trying to confuse me?*




Actually, the guy who plays Malford (Paul) was signed in on the guy who plays Drelvin's account (Craig, or SeldomSeen).  Malford's cohort is a lamassu.



*



			So was it him?
		
Click to expand...


*
Eh, I didn't write down who it was so I don't rightly recall... but I'm sure the L will take the blame as always.  It may have been Horbin or someone else, though- not sure.   Who cares when Lester's there to take the fall!


----------



## the Jester

All righty then- the final update for the Old Story Hour is now posted!  Enjoy!!


----------



## the Jester

*A Visit With Anvar*

Teleportation magic whisks Horbin, Lester and Orbius to a distant plateau in the Bendrock Mountains.  A small cabin, built from stones and wooden logs felled by strong arms, sits there; a garden is next to it, neat rows of plants tended by the dark-skinned man currently hoeing away, who looks up with a faintly disgruntled look on his face. 

"Anvar!" the L calls.

Slowly Anvar straightens up.  The look on his face has grown darker, turned to a deep frown.  "I asked you to give me a week," he states flatly, "before contacting me again."

"Yeah, too bad," Lester retorts.  "Listen, you're one of my old apprentices and I need your help.  I know your experiences have left you unhappy, especially whatever happened with the horrors, but you can't just turn your back on our religion."

Anvar opens his mouth to respond, but Lester plows ahead without stopping.

"Things are ugly for us now.  The Temple of Elemental Good has been overthrown, my followers are scattered, and they need some help and protection.  The enemy is after me and struck at them to get at me.  I need you to help them.  I can't right now- I'll just bring more trouble down on them.  While I strike out at the Temple of Elemental Evil, will you help them gather and reform?"

Anvar frowns deeply.  "I have not practiced actively in some time," he answers slowly.

"Yeah, I know, but it's time you picked up the mantle again.  _I need your help!_  They need your help!  And it has nothing to do with the clockwork horrors this time.  It's actually far worse, but my companions and I will handle it.  I'm not asking you to act directly against the enemies I have- not even against the Temple of Elemental Evil, which I know you worked  against for years- just to help my followers rebuild.  Please."

Anvar looks down at his sandaled feet.  _There was a time,_ he thinks, _when these feet were shod with metal boots, when they walked the halls of the Temple of Elemental Evil in search of Lester... when I even _helped_ the forces of Elemental Evil, disguised as one of them.  And now..._  He sighs.

"Very well," he says softly.  "I will help your followers."

"Great, thanks!" Lester says.  "Gather your things and we'll take you back to Var with us."

Less than an hour later, Anvar is dressed in his mithral armor, unused for years.  He's strapped his blade to his side.  And with him is his companion in the simple life- Krunkshank.  

Together, the five teleport back to Var.  Anvar departs within another hour, mounted on one of the warbirds called kocho, leading a pair of equine pack animals called linneps, following the trail of Lester's dispersed followers, half-hoping he does not find them.  Krunkshank stays in Var, at least for the time being.

"Well, that wasn't so hard," Lester muses, then starts washing up.  He's got dinner in the castle shortly; when dining with Queen Moira and King Malford, one wants to look his best.  At least, when it isn't on the road.




_*Next Time:*_  Guess what's coming to dinner- courtesy of Felenga!


----------



## the Jester

*Guess What's Coming to Dinner*

The castle's dining hall is not too ostentatious; indeed, the Queen prefers a somewhat subdued sort of arrangement for the decorations.  She's dressed in fine clothes, but wears little jewelry.  She and her King sit side by side, occasionally exchanging loving glances.  Around the table sit Drelvin, Lester, Orbius, Zonzor, Angelfire, Horbin the Holy, Thrush, Sybele and Jezebel.

The meal consists of pheasant roasted with cashews, covered in a honey and clove glaze; steamed fruits and vegetables in an elven plum sauce; thin wafers of elven honeycake; a salad of tossed greens, carrots, tomatos, cucumbers, berries and rose petals with a thin dressing; a light broth with onions, water chestnuts and radishes; freshly blended juice of peaches and plums blended together; and delicious elven wine, strong dwarven beer, and several other pitchers of drink.  It's entirely fantastic, having been cooked up by a halfling chef (and everyone knows that, if you're gonna have a chef, have a halfling chef), and it seems that nothing can spoil a meal like this. 

Nothing, that is, short of an attack by a horrible monster that rises through the stones of the floor.

Our heroes have seen it before- some sort of large beast with a slavering mouth, long tentacles, and a weird mix of crystals and stones apparently growing from its back.  It looks extremely unfriendly, as revealed by the fact that it immediately whips a tentacle at Orbius as it phases up through the floor.  The blow might have taken the divine oracle's head right off were it not for the _contingency_ he bears, which triggers a _mirror image_ as he's attacked; so only an image is destroyed, and our heroes burst into action.  There's a scramble as Drelvin cries, "Behind me!" to the Queen, and she scrambles out the door the monster isn't blocking and into the washroom, crying a warning.

Malford isn't too fond of having dinner interrupted, so he casts a _hold monster_ spell at the creature, but his eyes widen as his spell slides off its spell resistance.  Cursing under his breath, the gnome-King whips Memory from her sheath.  

The rest of our heroes are responding as well.  Zonzor leaps up onto the table, sending bits of pheasant, soup and salad flying, pullijng his axe out.  He strikes a mighty blow at the thing, but growls in anger as it shrugs off the blow.  Horbin's casting something at it, but again it resists; and as Orbius tries to back away from it, the thing's tentacle grabs him- the _real_ him- and holds tight!  With a quick word, he _teleports_ free, vanishing and reappearing across the room near the Queen.

The L tries a couple of spells, but neither gets through the monster's spell resistance.  "We saw this thing before!" he shouts.  "It's from Felenga!"

Indeed, and though it's alone this time, it's deadly enough on its own to be a threat.  Thrush takes a stand, his blade slicing the creature's stony hide for horrendous damage, but it slams back, grabbing and constricting him.  "URGH!" he shouts inarticulately, even as Sybele stands up, towering over the rest of the group and pulling out her sword.  Jezebel scrambles under the table, yelping, while Angelfire tumbles in on the beast and Zonzor keeps hewing at it- to no effect.  

Horbin and Orbius, keeping back, are throwing spell after useless spell at it.  None get through; clearly, the monster's able to resist almost anything they can produce.  Drelvin starts firing, his bow strung and unlimbered, arrows appearing and whizzing through the air with almost impossible speed, a few landing but most missing.

"To me, Jezebel!" the Queen cries, and Sybele's daughter scrambles across the floor to her.  They shut themselves into the washroom and Moira triggers a magic item, _dimension dooring_ them to safety.

Lester cries out, "Take this, you beast!" and casts a spell not on it, but on the ground it's still partially within.  The stone starts glowing red and turns instantly into molten magma.  The L laughs, seeing it clearly harm the monster, even as part of the wall supported by the now-liquid floor crumbles and collapses.  Thrush cries out, squinting against the glow and the heat of the lava, and manages to break free of the tentacle holding him in the air- falling into the magma!  He screams in pain, not happy at all about it.  His clothes and hair burst into flame!  He pulls himself free, but there's hot molten rock clinging to him all over.

"Stop, drop and roll!" Sybele cries to him.

The monster drops down through the lava, vanishing into the rock, even as Zonzor grabs up a pitcher of beer and dumps it on the burning Thrush.  Horbin _creates water_ on Thrush, as well, and steam rises from the cooling rock.  Gritting his teeth, the fighter lifts his greatsword in both hands, waiting for the enemy to return.

Then it rises beneath the table, shattering the mahogany wood of the thing into dozens of pieces.  Zonzor lands shakily next to it, still holding his axe in one hand and an empty pitcher in another.  Before anyone can react, the monster grabs at Lester with one of its tentacles.  But now its in the middle of the warriors of the party, and Angelfire and Sybele hack at it brutally while Zonzor grabs the L and pulls him from its grasp, suffering a mighty blow as he does so.  Lester whips out Felix Optima Maxima and strikes, stabbing deeply into it, and Thrush steps up and finishes the job with a pair of awesome blows.  The thing shudders and dies.

Malford turns to Lester.  "You're gonna fix that magma," he orders, shaking his finger at the elementalist.

Drelvin and the King quickly set off to search for signs of other attacks, but- at least for now- there are none.  Orbius, meanwhile, performs a _legend lore_ on the monster and grimly reports what he's got:

_Underdark danger
Aberration of earth
Destroyer of Drow
Bane of illithid
Eater of deep gnomes
Lord of the stones
Maulgoth._

When the Eye reports this to Malford, the gnome smiles.  He's pleased to have slain a monster known for its gnome-eating ways.

"I gotta get moving," Lester says nervously.  "I've got this _geas_, you know..."

"Maybe I can help you with that," Malford offers.  

"It's from the Galadorians," Lester answers.  "I don't think Galador would like it... and aren't you sort of one of them?"

Malford smiles.  "I respect the Galadorian faith, and I certainly wouldn't just randomly oppose them; but I've been under a _geas_ myself, imposed by Galador, to help break the _geasa_ of others.  I don't think He'll mind if I do as He's bid me..."

Soon, Malford's done it!  Using a _limited wish_ he manages to lift Lester's _geas_, and the whole group sighs happily.  Having to rush, perhaps unprepared, into a confrontation with Felenga would clearly be suicidal.  They need the Deleter- whatever it is.

That night our heroes get sick drunk, glad to be alive; Lester's even gladder to be able to act as he chooses again.  And Angelfire keeps studying the Book of Olaf, which keeps dripping weird red fluid.  Sybele keeps her eye out for Marius, knowing he's bound to come soon....




_*Next Time:*_  Marius arrives asking for help!  Zonzor gets in trouble!  And Sybele gets her sword!


----------



## Talix

Woohoo!  Nothing like missing a few weeks' worth of updates in this thread!  

Excellent, excellent story, as usual.  I really only have one question - what's up with Malford going around proclaiming to be a god?  Is that just a title of the leader of his country, was he once really a demi-god, or what?

Personally, I can't wait to see how Jezebel's character develops.


----------



## the Jester

Malford is what you might term an aspiring god- he's got Boccob and the other gods from 'before' aiding him in attempting to ascend, and a part of the process is getting believers.  Turdlin is a cleric of him; in my campaign, if there's enough faith in a god clerics can get spells, granted powers, etc.  

If you haven't seen it before, I posted a first draft of an Epic-level Ascendant prestige class a while back that, over 20 levels, takes a character to godhood.  It basically is a Savage Species-style breakdown of a DR 1 deity, using the 20 outsider HD as a guide.  I'm working on revising it (though not til after I have fully digested the revision); it's still in the draft stage, but you gotta start somewhere.


----------



## Welverin

*Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: In the Halls of the Unbound*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Actually, the guy who plays Malford (Paul) was signed in on the guy who plays Drelvin's account (Craig, or SeldomSeen).  Malford's cohort is a lamassu.*




How about a new who's who post then, it's been a while since the last one, before the last change in party members in fact.


----------



## the Jester

Sybele opens a bleary hungover eye.  _Wha...?_ she thinks, and then the knock comes again at her door.  She grumbles her way to it, and there's Marius.  "Good morning," the chronomancer says, his aspect grim, and soon the party is together over breakfast, listening to him make his pitch to them.

"It started with a false assumption on my part- that a simulacrum created as my equal or better would have the same desires, the same drives as I, and that it would remain under my control.  Make no mistake- this is not true.  A standard simulacrum is a reflection of its master, but a poor one, one that is only half or slightly more of what he is.  Never delude yourself into thinking that its motivations are yours, or that you know what it will do if left to its own devices for too long.  It has a portion of your personality, but only a portion.  If you are noble and kind, it may be half as noble and kind.  If you are wise, ambitious- it will be only partially as ambitious as you.  It is fundamentally different.  It is not a living thing- it is no more than a shadow of its creator.  Its motivations are not human.  It is not even a construct- it is merely a spell, merely a shadow.  While it will remain under its master’s control, if undirected it will act as its nature dictates.  If your simulacrum, Malford, were left uninstructed, it would possess a measure of your ambition, a portion of your nobility and goodness, a piece of your desires and loves.  It might act on those if left uninstructed long enough; never allow a simulacrum time to decide for itself!  

"When I first began empowering simulacra, I created several nearly as powerful as myself.  I thought that the closer to myself they became, the more they would share my goals.  But they did not.  The closer I came to creating another ‘me’ the further their personalities were from me.  The half of my wants they absorbed, amplified by the empowerment, became a less noble, somehow tarnished version of my desires.  Where I might, for example, wish to achieve a Lawful society and peace throughout the oceans, a simulacrum near to being a duplicate of myself might desire a Lawful society only in an area under its control, but one stricter than I would want to inflict on its people.  The half-feelings it felt were amplified, but were still only half-feelings.  Without a touch of real humanity to temper them, the simulacra grew in arrogance and ambition.  But as long as they were under my strict control, I had no way of knowing this.  The first signs of trouble did not come until after I allowed several of them a measure of discretion in trying to stomp out Chaos in places where it has taken root, and by then it was too late.

"I came to believe that, if I were to double-empower a few simulacrum, they would be able to aid me in making great strides.  With the Forinthian navy half-tied down around Pesh, the Chaos Fleet was scattering far and wide in small groups of ships.  They had made great inroads in a number of places, and while Forinthia consolidated her position there was no force great enough to resist the Chaos forces.  Well, I thought- foolishly- that if I could be in enough places at once, I could defeat them practically by myself.

"But I discovered an awful truth too late: a simulacrum made more powerful than the master will seek to supplant him.  I could not control the simulacra that were made more than I through the double-empowering process.  They burst free of my control once there were three of them- I believe the first two were waiting until they knew they could easily overcome me.  Realizing my mistake, I narrowly escaped from the Citadel of Eternity and fled.  

"I’ve given much thought to the tactics I can use against them, and though I might be able to defeat them myself, with the aid of a few powerful allies I believe that my odds of success are extremely heightened.  If you will aid me...?"

The party requests a day to talk it over, and Marius offers them a number or rewards, including money and spells that he's developed personally, then gracefully acceeds to their request for time.  "Sybele, of course, will be aiding me one way or another," he states.

Afterwards, Horbin the Holy casts a _sending_ to Zeebo, who's happy in the Shining City, having been back less than a day from Swayzeville, his home town, of which he's just been re-elected Mayor.  Horbin's _sending_ warns the Mayor not to make any empowered _simulacra_- which gives Zeebo pause, considering recent events.*

Malford and Orbius spend some time giving their _simulacra_ pep talks- after all, the last thing they want is to have enemies who know many of their secrets, tactics, etc.!  They're trying to build bonds of friendship as well as mastery, but they both look at the shadows of themselves with a new perspective, given Marius' tale.  

Afterwards, the two wizards discuss Zonzor.  Malford suggests a permanent _tongues_ be cast on him.

"I don't really think he has anything to say," Orbius replies disdainfully.  "'Zonzor smash!'  We don't need a _tongues_ to understand that."

"Speaking of which," Malford muses, "where is he, anyway?"



*This, of course, is an allusion to the forthcoming Tirchond politics thread... 



_*Next Time:*_ Zonzor gets himself into big trouble!


----------



## the Jester

At this point in the game, our heroes are:

Zonzor (CN barbarian 15)- From the low-magic world of Arba.  Zonzor is played by the same fellow who played Alcar, Telemundo, and many other characters in my campaign at one point or another.

Horbin the Holy (CG cleric 16)- A liberal Dextrite cleric.

Drelvin the Archer (elf fighter 6/OotBI 7, CG)- An old 2e character with the Archer kit.  Drelvin is Malford's Queen's bodyguard and Malford's friend from before he was a noble.

Sybele (large human fighter 8/egoist 7/warrior of Chaos 2, CN)- A psychic archer and the party slut, she's recently grown to Large size.  This is Rob's pc (he played Clambake).

Lester "the L" (elementalist 14/warrior of chaos 4/paraelementalist 1)- another old skool pc from 2e, and another old buddy of Malford and Drelvin.  He keeps threatening to post his stats here.  

Angelfire (also frequently just called Angel; psychic warrior 14/cleric 4)- red-skinned and with the fire subtype, Angel used to be a human female but Chaos has worked its way on him in many ways.  He's LE and a cleric of Coila, the goddess of Time, Relentlessness and Destruction.  

God-King Malford the Magnificent (gnome rogue 7/illusionist 13, CG)- Malford is the only character in my campaign still around from game #1 (we're around 530 now).  He began as a pirate, grew to be the protector of Dexter, the Jesus figure in Horbin's religion, went on the become a Baron, is now a King, and plans to become a God.

Turdlin the Smirv (svirfneblin cleric 5/rogue 6/prophet 1, CN)- Malford's first cleric and high priest, he's only recently started playing in my game again.  He played Dexter, back in the day.

NPCs Habitually With the Party-
Thrush (fighter 18)
Jezebel (Sybele's half-dragon daughter)


----------



## the Jester

*Zonzor Gets In Big Trouble*

As the afternoon soon shows late afternoon, Zonzor- who is in Var, wandering about- is approached by a dirty potion seller, who, not recognizing Zonzor for a stranger who knows nothing of these things.  Taking the man for a charlatan or poisoner, Zonzor roars at the man and grabs him up to take as a slave, throwing him over his shoulder after shaking him prodigiously.  Well-satisfied, Zonzor takes him back to the castle (still over his mighty shoulder) and, naturally, runs into trouble at the gate.  Once it becomes clear that Zonzor’s performing an act of random enslavement without any legal anything- not that slavery is legal in Var, anyhow, but still- things degenerate, and soon Zonzor is fleeing a storm of arrows and blood’s been spilt.  The potion seller, on the other hand, is out of his hands.

When word comes to Malford, who’s speaking with Angelfire, his face grows grave.  

“It’s probably a cultural misunderstanding,” Angelfire tries, but Malford is a King.  He sighs and sets a bounty on Zonzor- 1000 gp alive, or 300 dead.  That’s the size of the fine for his crime, after all.  

Zonzor spends the night traveling.  He flees for several days into the wilderness.

That evening, Telemundo bumps into Angelfire.  “Hey, you were in that battle!” Angelfire declares, and the two drink together for a while.  Eventually, Telemundo gets an invitation to breakfast, where Angelfire and the L introduce him to Malford and Drelvin.

Marius arrives that morning to hear the party’s answer to his plea for help.  They’ve discussed it; “We have things to do,” Sheva says.

“Like what?” he asks.

“Read the book,” Angelfire says.  

“All of us,” adds Malford.

“I can manipulate time,” Marius states.  “If you have nothing that can’t be done on my demiplane, you can take care of those things there quickly.  I urge you to help me; it is in everyone’s interest.”

“Well, in a few days I can finally get my blade from that dwarven smith,” Sybele says eagerly.  “We have to wait at least long enough for that... it’s probably only two or three more days!”

With the opportunity to cheat time in mind, the group finally agrees to aid the chronomancer.  _Gutsy,_ thinks Lester admiringly.  _Coming to us for help when we’ve been at odds in the past..._  He grins to himself. 

The demiplane is pastoral but without a sun.  There’s a neutral light in the place, permeating the washed-out sky and the grassy hills, but its pleasant and warm.  There is weather, but it seems mild, and periods of lighter and darker alternate.  The group studies the Book of Olaf one at a time, in a place somewhat removed from the cabin and outbuildings the rest stay at.  Horbin stands guard over the reader, using his powerful healing magic to keep insanity at bay.  Drelvin digs a deep hole.  Months pass for our heroes- peaceful months.  

Marius plans strategy with the party.  “It’s plain that an _antimagic field_ spells doom for the _simulacra;_ they’ll be unable to cast spells within it.  Additionally, I’ve developed a spell specifically for attacking them that I’ll teach you wizards.  I’m willing to teach both this spell and _antimagic field_ to you in the cause even before we attack the Citadel of Eternity.  Also, I can access the Citadel of Eternity via _gate_, and I’m prepared to use this option to aid the group’s attack and to prepare a second _gate_ for escape.  If we don’t succeed, the false Marius that has seized the Citadel will be able to compress time and make many preparations before we can return and our task will be much more difficult.”  

Marius pauses, then points out that _simulacra_ are incapable of advancement or gaining power.  Unfortunately, there’s nothing to stop them from making _simulacra_ themselves- and worse, they can also empower them!  Since the simulacra think a great deal like the real Marius and have tremendous intellects, they will no doubt foresee the most obvious tactics that their progenitor will come up with (such as _antimagic shell_) and have countertactics.  Thus, even a good plan may be extremely difficult to implement.

Sybele finally gets her blade from Fandral, who’s a bit nonplussed to see her standing so large.  He hands her a blade made with the coal steel that he’s christened Snakebite.*  

Pleased, she declares herself ready.  

“Then let’s go,” Marius says.  The group assembles and the chronomancer casts _gate._

Taking a collective deep breath, the party steps into the Citadel of Eternity to battle Marii.


*Greatsword +3, has the _Throwing_ special quality; deals 1d6 hp of poison damage on a hit; while in hand, wielder gains 4 enhancement bonus to saves vs. poison; 1/day cast _poison_ (Fort DC 18; caster level 10).

_*Next Time:*_ The first battle in the Simulacrum War!


----------



## the Jester

For the record, I started another story hour thread that will follow Zeebo, Sheva and Clambake, among others.


----------



## SeldomSeen

> _Originally posted by the Jester _*
> Actually, the guy who plays Malford (Paul) was signed in on the guy who plays Drelvin's account (Craig, or SeldomSeen). Malford's cohort is a lamassu.
> 
> quote:
> 
> So was it him?
> 
> 
> Eh, I didn't write down who it was so I don't rightly recall... but I'm sure the L will take the blame as always. It may have been Horbin or someone else, though- not sure.Who cares when Lester's there to take the fall! *




Actually what I was trying to do was make a joke common to another board I frequent where one makes a statement and then tells the truth in a footnote.  Malford touched the red glowing thing, but the blame was laid to rest on Lester's very deserving shoulders.  Sorry about causing confusion.  



> _Originally posted by the Jester _*
> “Like what?” he asks.
> 
> “Read the book,” Angelfire says.
> 
> “All of us,” adds Malford.
> *




You forgot an important part Jester.  People will want to know exactly what the book gave to all of us who read it, and the other service it performs for us.



> _Originally posted by the Jester _*
> Drelvin digs a deep hole.
> *




Haha.  I hope some later adventuring party stumbles across this pocket plane and wonders why the hell there is a 30ft sheltered hole in the ground.  I almost wish Drelvin had enough time to dig all the way through.


----------



## the Jester

SeldomSeen said:
			
		

> *
> You forgot an important part Jester.  People will want to know exactly what the book gave to all of us who read it, and the other service it performs for us.
> 
> *




Actually, I posted the book's stats elsewhere in the no-player lookee thread.


----------



## SeldomSeen

heh, no wonder I didn't see it.  Last time I went to that thread, the sepia snake sigil almost got me.   

I still think the narrative needs it though.  Why was it so important to spend months reading that damn spooky book?


----------



## Welverin

SeldomSeen said:
			
		

> *
> Actually what I was trying to do was make a joke common to another board I frequent where one makes a statement and then tells the truth in a footnote.*




Well there you go, I don't visit any other boards, what with only having room for one in my life at a time.



> *Malford touched the red glowing thing, but the blame was laid to rest on Lester's very deserving shoulders.*




Poor Lester, he made  one little mistake and even after all this time you guys still won't let him live it down. Sure he set an uber god free who went on to conquer the universe, but still!



> *Haha.  I hope some later adventuring party stumbles across this pocket plane and wonders why the hell there is a 30ft sheltered hole in the ground.  I almost wish Drelvin had enough time to dig all the way through.*




I must have been really tired, because I completely overlooked that bit.

Anyway, any particular reason? Reach China? See if there was a bottom? Because it was there?


----------



## the Jester

*The Simulacrum Wars (first battle)*

Stepping carefully, our heroes pass through Marius the Chronomancer’s _gate_ and into the center of the plane of Time. 

The Citadel of Eternity- they’ve seen it before, but not been within it.  Except for Marius himself, of course, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.  It’s a grand structure made of what looks like silvery metal or stone of some kind (“actually, it’s solidified time,” Marius will tell them later).  The sweeping halls curve off, with large rooms here are there.  Who made this place?  What strange, primeval god or force crafted the walls that bend the winds of time around them?  Who knows?  It may have been at the beginning of time or even before (if such a concept even has meaning); for now it’s irrelevant.  

Our heroes stalk the halls invisibly.  Perhaps the most useful of the invisibility spells is _Malford’s group invisibility_, which allows the group to walk unseen and unheard by everyone except each other.  From room to room they follow Marius, looking for other Marii.  For the _simulacra._

“Why does he need us, anyway?” Sybele whispers to Thrush.  “If these _simulacra_ are more powerful than he is, how are we going to have a chance against them?”  At the head of the party, Marius the Chronomancer smiles grimly to himself.  It all makes sense; they’ll see soon enough.

No ersatz Marius comes out to greet them from the first few places that Marius declared to be very likely; but soon enough, as the party creeps along through the eerie fortress, they open a door and find themselves facing not one, but two, Marii.

For an instant (if instants have meaning on the plane of Time) everyone freezes, but then everyone blurs into motion.

It’s immediately obvious that they know our heroes have arrived, for the two false Marii act before anyone else has a chance to.  The first- let’s call him Marius the False Chronomancer, though he calls himself merely Marius the Chronomancer, just as does his progenitor- disappears quickly.  The second- call him Marius the Willmaster- fires off a quickened _disintegrate_ that blasts Marius (the real one) for a shuddering amount of damage.

Worse yet, two whirling tornados of shining silvery sand zip towards the party.  Those who were together in Bile Mountain fought one of these things before- chronal repeaters, a strange sort of time golem.  Grim thoughts flash through several of our heroes.

But before anything else happens, the real Marius fires a disintegration beam at the invisible Marius.  There’s a howling scream as it discorporates.  Malford _mass hastes_ the entire group, and our heroes move in on the remaining adversaries.  Horbin tries a _lower resistance_ on one of the repeaters while Telemundo readies a counterspell against the remaining false Marius.  Unfortunately, he can’t counter what the Willmaster casts- and a hole gets blown through Lester’s torso!  He screams in pain, staggering, and a volley of quickened _magic missiles_ shoot into him as well, nearly driving him from the air.  Then, without even missing a beat, the Willmaster _teleports_ out.  

“How’d he do that?!” Malford yells.  _He just cast two quickened spells at once...!_*

There’s no time to talk about it, though, as the first chronal repeater seems to split into two wavering forms, spilling scintillating sand everywhere, and flanks Horbin, tearing into him with its powerful slams again and again!  The other one seems to split into three images, attacking Horbin, Angelfire and Drelvin and landing terrible blows on each of them.  “What’s this?” Drelvin cries as the creature smacks at his leg.**

But our heroes fight back, despite the fact that their weapons seem to slip past the repeaters as if they aren’t there about half the time.  Grunting, Angel throws everything into a deadly power attack that lands heavily on one of the constructs, and in a spray of temporal sand it explodes.  The other falls to _Marius’ deconstruction._

“Not a bad start,” Telemundo comments wryly, but Marius snorts.  

“One of them got away.  Now the master of this place will know we’re coming.  We must hurry.”

“Maybe we should come back another time?” Horbin wonders, but Marius shakes his head severely.

“Then it would have all the time it needs to prepare for us, no matter how little time we spend away.  Its control of the time stream here far exceeds mine on the demiplane I took you all to.”

“How many of these _simulacra_ are there?” Malford asks.

“Three that I fashioned to be greater than myself,” Marius replies, “and they may have made more even greater than themselves.  And who knows how many others, lesser than the ones I made but possibly roughly as powerful as myself.  Not to mention lesser ones, or those created by other wizards tricked by my duplicates into making the same mistake I made.”  He takes a deep breath.  “Let’s go.  There are many places they could be, but I doubt whether the usurper of my Citadel will shirk from a confrontation; I wouldn’t.  But we mustn’t give him the time to prepare for us.”  

And he leads the way further into the Citadel of Eternity, our heroes following behind, full of misgiving. 


*Thanks to the Multispell Epic feat.

**Don’t forget Drelvin’s theme song!  _Drelvin- he lost his leg!_


_*Next Time:*_ A bridge over troubled energy!  Pseudonatural enemies, both greater and lesser!  And, of course, a false Marius!


----------



## the Jester

*Bridge Over Troubled Sands*

The party’s expedition soon leads them around a corner and before a 10’ wide bridge over a seething pit full of seething radiant energy and churning silver sand that looks like it wouldn’t be much fun to fall into.  The bridge goes across the gap, but it’s blocked.  Standing upon it in an aspect of guardianship are a shuffling mass of creatures writhing with strangely-suckered tentacles.  Their forms seem to shift and melt as our heroes watch; they stand one moment like four-armed white apes, and the next moment they seem to bend and twist like a licorice whip pulled on a hot day.  Clearly the leader, one of the creatures stands out from the rest: a 10’ high ape-like creature sprouting more thick tendrils, cruel hooks on them.  It’s hard to see its form; it seems to blur and shift.  Worse yet, standing behind the group of pseudonaturals is another Marius.

At least the big one doesn’t have four arms.

It appears the pseudonatural creatures have been forewarned, for they spring into action, hooting like gorillas, before the party has much of a chance to do anything.  Their suckered tentacles shlep forward, questing for Material plane flesh.  The two-armed one becomes even harder to see, and suddenly the Marius (the Willmaster) that the party drove off previously acts, unleashing a _chain lightning_ at the group followed by an _enervation_ at Orbius!  There’s a certain instant hazard as our heroes are all bunched up, but so are the pseudonatural monkey-things, and Marius the Chronomancer (the party’s ally in this case) blasts them all with a _lightning bolt_, then follows it up with a quickened _magic missile_ at the _simulacrum_.  The missiles blast through harmlessly.  “_Projected image!_” the real Marius shouts.  “There’s a false Marius here somewhere!”  He looks around for his false self to no avail. 

The Eye, groaning from the burden of negative energy that’s been slapped on him, fires another _lightning bolt_ and mostly clears the bridge.  Only the two-armed pseudonatural beast shrugs it off; and only two of the four-armed pseudonaturals survives the blast.  The first doesn’t last long, however; Angelfire rushes forward with a loud battle cry and smashes into it, knocking it off the bridge and down into the seething energies below.  There’s a horrible loud squeal that cuts off suddenly as the churning sands of time destroy it utterly!

It’s only been seconds since the start of the fight and already it seems to be almost over.  Cursing silently to himself behind his _illusory wall_, Marius the Willmaster fires an empowered _enervation_ at Orbius, hoping to take him out!  Again the crackling black ray strikes home and the Eye of Boccob sags against the wall, coughing as he feels his very life being suppressed.  _Where is that Marius?_ Orbius thinks wildly, and spends a moment to look for him.  Thanks to his _piercing clarity_, he spots the _illusory wall_- and thanks to the _Rary’s telepathic bond_ the group cast upon first arriving, he cries out a mental warning.

The last pseudonaturals are attacking Angelfire.  The ‘biggun’ slams at him with brutal force, landing several blows on the scarlet Coilite.  The other pseudogirallon grabs hold of him, trying to hurl him from the bridge, and the two struggle for a moment; then, with Drelvin the Archer’s aid, Angelfire hurls the ape-thing down!  It grasps desperately at the edge of the bridge, hanging by a finger, but a swift arrow from Drelvin solves that and it plummets with a screech into the seething sands below.  Even as he does so, Horbin the Holy unleashes a _destruction_ spell and the pseudonatural dire ape is blasted into dust!  Telemundo fires a _finger of death_ at the _projected image,_ but it fails to have any effect.

But now that most of the group knows where the _illusory wall_ is, things are turning rapidly.  Malford launches himself into the air, flying across the gap to where the phantom wall is, and casts a _glitterdust_ through it.  Surprised, Marius the Willmaster grunts as he’s dazzled and blinded.  Then the L hurls himself through it and, with a single word and a pointed finger, unleashes a _flame arrow_ at the blinded _simulacrum._ 

Now Marius the Willmaster is staggering back, almost beaten.  _No!_ he thinks wildly.  _Not like this!  I’m as powerful as the progenitor, I can’t go down like this!  Must escape...!_  He casts his most powerful magic- a _time stop_- and suddenly an _incendiary cloud_ appears, roiling with flaming red vapors.  

“Enough!” the real Marius cries, and he damages the creature with a _disintegrate._  It doesn’t finish the Willmaster, however; though sorely wounded, he’s still standing.  But not for long.  He sinks to one knee as a volley of the Eye’s _magic missiles_ zips into his chest, and then Sybele is flying forward, arrows zinging from her bow and sinking deep into the _simulacrum’s_ chest.  The second shot finishes it; it bursts into a pile of rapidly-melting snow.

The group pauses.  

“Are we done yet?” Sybele asks plaintively. 

“No,” Marius the Chronomancer answers shortly.  “We still must deal with the usurper.”



_*Next Time:*_ The confrontation with Marius the Usurper!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

I have relocated the thread, and am now subscribing again!

Good stuff, Jester! Much fun, as always. Boy, when this lot go epic there's going to be some serious carnage...


----------



## the Jester

For the record:

Cydra: the Early Years

Haven't started posting the actual stories just yet, but I will soon!


----------



## Welverin

*HAPPY BIRTHDAY!*

how about an update? it's been a week you know.


----------



## the Jester

Welverin said:
			
		

> *HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
> 
> how about an update? it's been a week you know. *




Thanks!  I'll be updating again soon- just got done with Day One of the birthday celebration, tonight I go with some friends for another night of par-tay, then towmorrow we game!

But soon, soon...


----------



## Welverin

the Jester said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Thanks!  I'll be updating again soon- just got done with Day One of the birthday celebration, tonight I go with some friends for another night of par-tay, then towmorrow we game!*




Day one? What is this a full week affair?


----------



## the Jester

Welverin said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Day one? What is this a full week affair? *




Usually about five days, though this year's smaller.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Jester, there is a thread in General Discussion about Chaos Powers that you should take a look at. I think you could give the guy a lot of good advice. It should still be on the first page.


----------



## the Jester

Tallarn said:
			
		

> *Jester, there is a thread in General Discussion about Chaos Powers that you should take a look at. I think you could give the guy a lot of good advice. It should still be on the first page. *




Hm, couldn't find it- do you know what it is called?  Or who started it?


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Ah, I see you found it anyway.


----------



## the Jester

*Big Like His Ego*

As our heroes advance relentlessly through the Citadel of Eternity, they find a few traps- one is apparently a spellbook, but when investigated it turns out to merely be a _sepia snake sigil_ cast on a red herring.  A _greater dispelling_ fixes the problem.  Another is an _illusionary wall_ cast horizontally to cover up a _symbol of death_, which the party avoids handily.

Soon the party enters a large hall and skid to a stop.

Ahead, animating, are two huge metal Marii.  They stand about 25’ tall, gigantic iron statues that definitely don’t look friendly- and then the view of them that the party has goes away as Malford’s _solid fog_ fills the chamber.  “Careful!” the gnome-king cries.

Angelfire moves forward, heedless of caution.  He’s dealt with worse than these before- probably.  He hopes.  But he finds himself stymied by the slowing fog, and so he angles himself upward to fly out above it.  Sybele, meanwhile, flies directly up and out of the fog, where she can see the tops of the golems looming above the churning grey vapors.  Telemundo tries a _disintegrate_ spell, but the golems are clearly immune- his ray zaps one to no avail.  Thrush grunts and forces his way forward, hoping to meet the metal enemy and cut them to pieces.

The golems, slow to move, swing ponderous fists down, and the first one smashes into Thrush’s breastplate with a loud clang.  The fighter gives a grunt as he feels the metal compact into his chest and a huge bruise, the size of his entire torso, starts to rise on him.  Staggering, he strikes back, dueling with the metal monster, and another blow slams into his head, leaving him reeling.  “I can’t take much more of that!” he cries, spitting blood from his torn lip and feeling his nose slide around brokenly.

Then, behind the golems, behind the _solid fog,_ a door opens and the self-styled Marius the Great tosses first a quickened _fireball_ and then a _stunning cone_ at the party!  The fire roars around them, causing a little harm to the group, but the main purpose for it suddenly becomes obvious to those above the mist- it’s repairing the little damage that they’ve done to the golems!

“There’s a Marius!” Drelvin cries in warning.  _Whing! Whing! whing!_ his arrows reverberate as they drive into the golems.  

_Haste_ spells start to go off everywhere.  First Malford, then Drelvin and Telemundo; doubtless both Marii are already sped up.  Arrowhawks appear, weird creatures of elemental air, firing beams of lightning at the golems.  “These golems are huge, like your ego, Marius!” Horbin taunts.  The sizzle of their electric ray blasts through the air, and Thrush gives out a great battle cry, hacking and hewing at the enormous iron golem he’s fighting, opening great rents in its legs.  It seems to stagger, and Sybele concentrates her firepower at it- _spang! spang! spang!_- and the first one drops, crashing down in a twisted pile of metal.  “Healing!” Thrush calls, staggering to the edge of the fog.

Then the entire band shrieks in horrible agony as Marius the Great casts an empowered _horrid wilting_ on them.  Every bit of moisture in their mouths suddenly is sucked away, and their skin goes dry like a raspy piece of sandpaper.  A chorus of groans rises- few of the party are in good shape after that one!  Thrush falls to his knees, barely conscious.  “Healing...!” he gasps.  Malford flies in, wincing at the pain as he attacks Marius, but his blows go wild and he fails to connect at all.

Horbin casts a _mass heal,_ and suddenly everyone’s feeling much better.  Everyone except the _simulacrum_ of Marius.

More arrows keep sinking into the giant iron golem, and though it’s featureless, it’s plain to see that the damage inflicted is severe.  It’s starting to stagger, and finally Thrush rushes in again, roaring at the top of his voice, his greatsword a blur in his hands.  The next moment- the golem falls, a cloud of billowing green vapors spewing forth even as it does.  With a thunderous boom, the body of the thing smashes down!

Marius- the _real_ Marius, the one our heroes are aiding- seems to be teleporting around rather quickly, and unleashes a _chain lightning_ and a burst of quickened _magic missiles_ at the imposter, who snorts as his _shield_ absorbs the missiles.  The lightning seems to harm it a little, however; it responds with another _stunning cone_.  The spells are slinging back and forth- _bonebreak,_ a quickened _wall of force_ followed by a _prismatic spray,_ a quickened _disintegrate, fireballs_ from Telemundo, both of which catch Malford squarely in their radius- and seem to be sucked into his gauntlets. 

A strategem they’d discussed earlier, actually.

Malford feels the _fireballs_ burning in the gauntlets.  He channels all their power into his sinews, speaks a _power word stun_ to disable the ersatz Marius for just a second, and charges in and attacks, using all his expert ability to place a blow combined with the burning power of his _gauntlets of absorbtion_, and cleaves the _simulacrum’s_ head from its shoulders.



_*Next Time:*_  Into the Far Realms!!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Niiiiice guantlets! And a very good trick, that one.


----------



## the Jester

*Into the Far Realms!*

"I advise against it, but I'll allow it," Marius tells the party.  He's speaking about using the portal to the Far Realms that's in the Citadel of Eternity. 

"Madness," he tells them, when asked what lies within the Far Realms.  "Nothing good.  Powers beyond even your wildest speculations... if you have any alternative, I would recommend taking it." 

But there is none, if the party is to find the Deleter.  

First the party spends some time learning spells and making items, and Telemundo reads the Book of Olaf.  Though their exertions seem to them to last 45 days, Marius' manipulations of time allow them to pass them as a few short days pass on Cydra.  For once, time is on their side.

Then they make ready.  Jezebel is to stay with Marius; Sybele will have no part of taking her to the Far Realms.  

Malford shakes his head when approached.  "I can't go to the Far Realms!  I have responsibilities- children, a kingdom..."  He trumps back to Var as the others prepare themselves as best they can.

And then they go through the portal, Marius' warnings having failed to deter them, and into a realm of insanity tempered with seething indescribable emotions that threaten to overwhelm our heroes.  All around, stretching off into infinity in all directions, are multiple, perhaps infinite, dimensions that are layered atop each other, nearly touching, like the many skins of an onion.  Strange growths and liquid globules slide through the air, huge entities float barely-seen in a nearby layer, weird waves of emotion crash and break over the party.

"Aaaahhh!!!" Sybele howls, and starts babbling incomprehensibly.  She seems a little puzzled by everything, then starts lashing out, firing an arrow into the party.  There are a few moments of confusion as she's subdued and bound securely, and then Angelfire speaks.

"The Book," he says, an eerie looking green halo breathing from his lips with his words, "it's pulling me."  And indeed, it's gently tugging at him, taking him through the murk of dimensions that the madness radiates and towards a horrible destination- the Deleter.

Slowly the party follows, flying along.  The scenes that dance before their eyes are not meant to be viewed by mortal eyes- the tormented colors that make up grief, twisted angles askance to reality, watching eyes from a far universe, a burning pain that floats on the air.  Madness grips them, one by one; after Sybele, Lester falls victim to the planes' horrible disorienting effects and starts hurling spells randomly.  For his own good the party first _mazes_ and then binds Lester.  When Thrush goes mad and lays about him with his deadly sword blows, Horbin the Holy, gripping his faith for his life, casts a _mass heal_ and manages to restore everyone- for the moment.

"How much longer is this going to take?" Thrush groans.  They've been moving for three hours since crossing into this bizarre series of realms.  

It's only then that they realize that nobody _knows_ how long it'll take to get to the Deleter, and with a horrid start, Horbin takes stock of his mind-repairing spells....


_*Next Time:*_ Deeper into the Far Realms!


----------



## the Jester

Turn back, at this late juncture?  Not _our_ stalwarts.

So, gritting the teeth of their mind against the tongue-kiss of madness, they continue on, deeper into the Far Realms.  

Deeper, past the smell of orange blossoms that tries to lull them to eternal sleep... past a squirming thing that, disturbingly enough, resembles them... past clouds of soporific vapor that threaten to eat the lungs with stunning pleasures... through mildewy realms of icy gasses hissing from the very space around them.  

They pass into an area composed of pure lethal malevolence, a scarlet hatred so powerful it nearly kills them with its force. 

Our heroes stagger on through the kaleidescope of insanity.

After an interminable time, the party spies something ahead- a writhing mass of tentacles and hair and grey flesh, the beast closes on them quickly from within a bank of fog that stinks of blood.  Its tentacles smash out, lashing at Angelfire, grabbing him greedily and constricting him.  The Coilite cries out in horrible pain as his body starts rotting away before his very eyes.

Angelfire timeslips, but it doesn't work like it should.  He vanishes, but reappears an instant later, with no in-between for him.  (Normally, if he vanishes for 3 rounds, he has a chance to take three rounds worth of actions before reappearing.)  The fight's already over; though he doesn't know it, Orbius' swift use of his relatively new _analyze enemy_ spell aided the party in overcoming the pseudonatural creature relatively easily.

The group travels on.  Angelfire follows the tugging of the Book of Olaf, seeming now to croon from time to time (though perhaps he's just hearing things...)  It's seeping, too, releasing scarlet, blood-like fluid where he holds it.  

They've been traveling for almost six hours when they see another, smaller creature.  Silvery and feathered, it's a writhing lump of chaotic tendrils and pseudopodia; one tendril is long and thin, like a whip.  It burbles close to the group, but it doesn't seem hostile, just curious.  Still, given their previous, pretty much universally negative, experiences with pseudonaturals, the party is both wary and suspicious.  Thus, they're taken off guard when it speaks.

"Hello!" it burps from a lamprey-like mouth.  "Are you from the Material Plane?"

"Yes," Sybele answers instantly.

"Wow!  I used to hang out there!  We had good times!  I haven't seen your type in a while, not since I went home!  At least I think it's home- sometimes it's all very confusing.

"Say," it continues, emitting a slobbery (and yet somehow charmingly cute) fluid from its hideous sucker-mouth, "is that Horbin?"



_*Next Time:*_ Anyone pick up on the clues?  Who's our mysterious talkative pseudonatural, and how does he know Horbin??


----------



## Welverin

the Jester said:
			
		

> *Next Time: Anyone pick up on the clues?*




Nope, can't say that I have, but I do have an excuse.



> *Who's our mysterious talkative pseudonatural, and how does he know Horbin??*




Is it an old adventuring companion, maybe even Spukoni?


----------



## Dakkareth

Mmhhh ... there was something about an alienist earlier ... maybe ...

I don't know, who got it, but perhaps it's the chaos child?

Just ideas ...


----------



## the Jester

*A Bit of Flesh*

Really, there's nothing like being the gods know how far from a powerful weapon in a plane of utter madness and having a burbling little pseudonatural feathered creature say your name.  Sometimes, it's even enough to spark memories of long-lost companions.

"Spukoni?" Horbin exclaims*.

"Hey, you know my name!" the creature chortles gleefully.  "Wow!  It's been a long time since someone said my name.  You guys are cool!"

"But- but-" Horbin's a tad flustered here.  "But what are you _doing here??_"

"I already told you- I came home!  This is where I belong... I think.  I don't really know, but there was this nice guy who helped me, his name was Nigel, and I didn't know how to get here, but he helped and now that I'm here I'm here!  Whee!"

Angelfire calls softly, "Come on."  The tension in his voice is evident; clearly, just like everyone else, the effort of will required to stay sane here is telling on him.  "We have to go."

"Go?  I can be your guide!" Spukoni offers enthusiastically.  "You guys know my name!"

"What was your name again?" Sybele asks.

Spukoni hesitates, then waves a tentacle at Horbin.  "Ask him.  Tell her my name!"

"Spukoni," Horbin says, "his name is Spukoni."

Further, then, into the realms of madness.  Iridescent curtains of disgust burst as they pass through them, fatty lumps of uncertain matter bob around them as they peel through Far Realm after Far Realm.  Slowly, in the distance, a large _thing_ begins to resolve itself.  It's hard to see at first, as if gazing at it through a lens smeared with grease, but as the maddening hours drag past it becomes clearer and clearer.

"What is that?" Drelvin breathes.

"Oh, it's another one of those big things," Spukoni advises him cheerily.  "You know, a big mind.  A great intellect.  A floating power between dimensions.  A rambling thought."

"Do you actually know what it is, or are you just making stuff up?"

Spukoni burbles and pops.

Closing in over the next hour or so, the party finally resolves it: a huge mound of quiescent flesh the size of a castle.  It looks alive.  Angelfire's fingers tense on the Book of Olaf, and little red beads ooze from its leathery cover; it's still leading him on, to what can only be described as a weird orifice.

"Hold on!" says Orbius, trying to divine something about this place before the party acts with their usual rashness.  He casts a _legend lore,_ and reports, "Dreaming the doom of the world we know, the Doom Sleeper will shatter the very laws of reality if awoken- or so say the ancient Norwedish."  

Drelvin frowns.  "That sounds bad," he states, then draws his magical sword.  "Shastruth, send in an _arcane eye_, will ya?"  And the sword does so.  

"We have to go in," Angelfire says.  "That's where the Deleter is."

"We have to be _very careful,_" emphasizes Telemundo.  "We don't want to wake this thing up."

"But we _have_ to go in," Angelfire repeats.

Shastruth tells them, "There's some sort of... organ in there.  There's a large cavity..."  The sword pauses.  "I don't see any obvious dangers," it continues in its metallic voice.

Exchanging a glance, Telemundo and Drelvin _dimension door_ inside.


*Ten points for Welverine!



_*Next Time:*_ Inside the Doom Sleeper!


----------



## the Jester

*Inside the Doom Sleeper*

Within the flesh is a pulsing, organic cavity.  An unearthly stench pervades the place; Angelfire and Telemundo both gag and clutch their mouths against it, their stomachs churning.  It’s sickening.  The tissue around them seems quiescent; they can see dark veins pumping weird fluids beneath the ‘skin’ of the walls.  There’s some sort of angry red zit-like organ in the room, protected by a thick, stiff skin.

The others join the old sorcerer and the Coilite after a report that there doesn’t seem to be any obvious danger.

”Except for waking this thing up,” breathes Drelvin softly.

Orbius, the Eye of Boccob, casts a _divination_.  He tells his compatriots, “We must extract the Deleter carefully.  I think it’s in there.”  He points at the organ.

“Yes,” agrees Angelfire, the Book of Olaf clutched in his hands, drawing him gently towards the organ.  “That’s where the book wants to go...”

The party quietly discusses things.  There’s still the danger of madness, and they certainly don’t want to awaken something that will destroy the world or anything- Drelvin glances sharply at Lester (who says, “What?” as innocently as he can)- so they’re at a tough point.  “We might be able to get it out magically,” Orbius suggests dubiously, but after some discussion our heroes can’t come up with a safe-sounding method.  In fact, the best option they can come up with is a surgical extraction.

Gently, Horbin begins operating. 

The group’s pretty much sweating bullets when he starts, and as he cuts deeper and blots more pus-like fluid, they get more and more nervous.  But the Doom Sleeper never even quivers, his skill is so great.  And soon, they have it: the Deleter.

A pair of weird, organic-looking glove-like things, the Deleter doesn’t look like something you’d want to stick your hands into.  The fingers are long and oddly-angeled.  Gingerly, Horbin works it free of the nodule-like organ.  “Who’s carrying this?” he demands.

“I might as well,” Angelfire offers, “I already have the Book.”

The others nod at this; if the items will corrupt them, why not limit their influence?  So Angelfire wraps the Deleter in cloth and stows it in his pack for the moment.

Then, “Let’s get the hell out of here,” says Lester.



_*Next Time:*_ The Deleter claims its first victim!


----------



## the Jester

Spukoni cracks his whip-arm a few times and spends a little while casting _legend lore_ on the Deleter.

_The savants of flame
Ascend to the elements
Unaware that their efforts
Are doomed by the Deleter.

The alienist's irony
Transcendence undone
Doomed by the Deleter.

Gifts of ancient gods
Alterations ripped away
Doomed by the Deleter._

"Interesting," muses Horbin, and Telemundo cracks an old man's smile.  "Gifts of ancient gods?" he queries.  "What's that mean, I wonder?"  He shakes his cane in space.

"What," Drelvin asks, "are we going to do with this thing?"

"More divinations," Orbius suggests.  

"Who should wear it?" wonders Angelfire. 

"Maybe we can divine that as well," suggests the Eye.

"I could wear it," Telemundo wheezes. 

"No, not until we know how it works," Angelfire says.  "We don't want anything to go wrong with it..."

But Telemundo is already reaching for the Deleter, and he slips his hands easily within it.  The glove-like objects settle tightly around his wrists and he gulps.  He can't really feel his fingers, and the long fingerpieces of the Deleter and slowly twisting in the air now.

"Can you take it off?" Angelfire demands.

"Uh-" Telemundo tries to tug at the Deleter, but can't really use his fingers very well.  Angelfire grabs his hands, pulling mightily on the glove-like things; they're warm and organic-feeling.  For a moment Angelfire's thews bunch as he struggles with all his mighty strength to pull the Deleter off of the aged wizard.  Settling back on his heels a moment later, the Coilite shakes his head.

"Well," he says, "if the only way to get these gloves off you is to chop off your arms, so be it."  And with that, he quickdraws his falchion and, with a single blow, deals a tremendous blow to Telemundo's right arm, breaking his wrist.  The sorcerer gives a strangled cry and staggers back, which causes Angelfire to misjudge his second blow.  Instead of the hand, it takes Telemundo in the head and splits it open like a ripe melon.  Without another sound the old man slaps bodily back into the spinning spaces of the Far Realms.

"Damn it!" Horbin explodes.  "Did you _have_ to do that??"

"Well, I wasn't going to let him flee with the Deleter, now was I?"

Horbin the Holy grabs up Telemundo's body, glaring angrily at Angelfire, and casts _gate_.  Through this portal the party manages to return to Var.  They're a step closer to hopeful victory over Felenga.



_*Next Time:*_ Horbin brings Telemundo back, but he's not happy!  (And really, who can blame him?)  Spukoni rambles about the days when he worked for the Temple of Elemental Evil!  And something comes for the Book of Olaf!


----------



## the Jester

*Becoming a Target*

Horbin the Holy takes the corpse of Telemundo, the old sorcerer, to his temple for resurrection.  Soon the sorcerer jerks back to life, anger in his eyes, and stomps off on his own.  He spends some time trying to put a hit out on Angelfire, but he doesn't really know who to talk to or where to go.  

Spukoni, meanwhile, has assumed a more humanoid shape- silvery, feathered, with a whip for an arm- but more humanoid nonetheless.  "So what do you guys need this thing for, anyway?" Spukoni asks brightly.  

"We're going to use it to overthrow a great enemy of ours, who leads the forces of the Temple of Elemental Evil," Lester tells the strange creature.

"The Temple of Elemental Evil?" Spukoni exclaims.  "I worked for them briefly!"

"What?"

"Yeah, we carried rocks for beholders.  Now, normally I wouldn't carry rocks, but when a beholder tells you to do something you really ought to.  You don't want to get a beholder mad, you know."

"Wow... so maybe you could help us sneak in there or something?"

"My divinations have told me that our best course is to strike at the nodes," Orbius proclaims.  

"I don't know about any nodes," Spukoni says, "but I'll tell you what, beholders are mean!  And they had all sorts of powerful clerics and stuff too, plus some half-elf murfur or something..."

But our heroes are unconcerned, or at least not overly concerned; they've fought beholders before- entire nests of them, in fact.*

Angelfire sets out to track down a _helm of teleportation_ after Lester mentions that Arion the Archmage made once for his old buddy Thimbleton once.  "Do you think he has another one?  Would he be disposed to sell it, or make one?"

Drelvin laughs.  "He's disposed to drink and fire off _lightning bolts,_ that's about it."

Angelfire determines to try, anyhow, and drops by Arion's tower with the party.  They knock but receive no reply; Orbius leaves a message.  The group does some shopping around, then goes to Horbin's temple.  Angelfire, Thrush, Sybele and Jezebel stay outside in the gardens while the others go inside to talk to one of Horbin's clerical associates, the local high priest (his official title in the church is 'Rector') Metron, who sees things that don't appear to be there in any conventional sense.

"How are things?" Horbin asks him.

Metron looks haunted, and he says, "There are lots of them.  You can't see them, but they spill over from somewhere outside..."  He gulps, staring around him in fear.  "I can't stand it."

Concerned, Horbin talks to him for a few moments, hoping to draw out information and offer some comfort.  Simultaneously, Thrush, Sybele and Jezebel are talking in the garden.  

"We're in a dangerous period," Sybele is saying.  "Maybe too dangerous for you.  I'm not sure that it's wise for you to be with us right now, so I thought I'd offer to send you to be with Marius for a little while."

Jezebel's face conveys mixed emotions- a guilty pleasure among them.  "I-I'll think about it," she says hesitantly.

Angelfire, a few dozen feet away, is idly arranging rocks in the garden into the shape of Coila's symbol, when suddenly he spies something swimming through the folded dimensions at him, an immensely fat thing with a gaping mouth.  Before the red-skinned Coilite can even move its materialized right on him, a blubbery corpse-thing tearing at his arm with a huge mouth!  Angelfire hears the screams of Sybele and Jezebel as the bloated monster rips at him.

With a grunt of effort, Angel brings out his falchion and slashes it across the chest, inflict a punishing blow.  There's no blood; instead, a thick brown sludge starts leaking slowly from the monster, smelling of rot and feces.  It gnashes its teeth and roars, "So hungry!"  Screaming, it rushes him again, its little hands scrabbling for the book in Angel's backpack.  Its lower jaw unhingers and it bites the Coilite along the breast and ribs, tearing a great chunk of flesh from him.  Angelfire stands his ground, slicing at the thing, hacking into its neck.

"Get the priests!" Sybele shouts to Jezebel, her bow in her hands.  Simultaneously, her psicrystal telepathically alerts her allies within the church, issuing a rallying cry directly into their minds.  Then Sybele's firing arrows at the monster.

Within the church office, the rest of the party stiffens as the psicrystal's message reaches them, and Lester and Horbin leap to the wall leading to the gardens.  The L casts _pass through earth and stone_ and steps through the wall; Horbin the Holy _stone shapes_ an exit for all of them.  And Metron, the cleric who sees things, gives a great wavering scream and flees deeper into the church.

Meanwhile, the duel between the snapping monster and Angelfire's sharp blade is rudely interrupted by Thrush, who steps up and finishes matters with a series of immensely damaging blows from his blade.  The corpse falls to the ground, immobile now, and starts rotting.  Within a few minutes all that remains is an oily blubber, and in an hour even that is gone; only a greasy stain shows where the thing fell.  Orbius _legend lores_ the monster and obtains a snippet of verse:

_Eater of heroes
Bringer of famine
Ender of cities
Biter of heads_

"Hm," the Eye says thoughtfully.

"Why did you run?" Horbin asks Metron meanwhile.

"They're surrounding the red one," Metron tells him with fear in his eyes.  Horbin can only assume that Metron is referring to Angelfire, whose skin is indeed the red of a deep sunburn.  Thoughtfully, our heroes leave.

They return to the castle, whereupon they give the Deleter up to Malford for safekeeping.  "Until we decide what to do with it, I think you're the best one to hold it," Horbin states, and the gnome-king nods thoughtfully.  That evening, he sends his mind to a distant plane to try to ascertain a few things about the weapon.

_How does the Deleter work?_ Touch.
_Can it only be used once?_ No.
_How do we destroy it?_ Glass.
_Who among our group would be best suited to using it?_ Sybele.
_What's our biggest unseen problem when facing Felenga?_Stain.
_Where is our best opportunity to strike Felenga?_ Nodes.

Oddly, even after Malford's recommendation, Sybele seems reluctant to put the Deleter on.

"Perhaps it's time to ask Boccob some questions," Orbius muses, and casts a _commune_ spell.

*I open my mind to you, Boccob- take what knowledge I have to provide!
Who sent the monster at us?* Nobody.
*Is there a way to trigger the sorely beset curse the Bile Lords have placed upon us without hurting ourselves bodily?* Yes.
*What is the best way?* Incapacitate.
*Is there a way to dispel the curse?* Yes.
*Who do I know that could dispel it?* No one.
*Give me the name of someone who could and might be willing to dispel it, if we met their demands.* Marius the Frozen-Hearted.
_A simulacrum,_ Orbius thinks instantly.
*Give me the name of someone who can and might do it, who isn't a likely enemy of ours.* Vuivui.
*Who me a place where we can safely teleport into the chamber of the elder brain leading the mind flayers threatening the svirfneblin we meet under the mountain recently.* None.
*Where can we find or go to summon Vuivui?* Squirmhall.
*Does the Diamond Sword of Raldese exist on Cydra?* No.
*What is the stain Malford learned of?* Lie.
*What is Felenga's biggest current problem?* Darkhold.
*What is the name of the Prince of Elemental Good Air?* Chan.
*What is the name of the Prince of Elemental Good Earth?* Sunnis.
*What is the name of the Prince of Elemental Good Fire?* Zaaman Rul.
*What is the name of the Prince of Elemental Good Water?* Ben-Hadar.
*What is the name of the most powerful hunter of the dead who might help us?* Patyn.
*What is one of the Deleter's powers?* Unknown.

"Well," says Lester after Orbius reports his information, "I propose we first find a way to deal with the Bile Lords' curse and then assault Felenga.  It's time to take the fight to him!"

"You guys are cursed?" Malford inquires.

"Sort of," says Angelfire.

"Yes," Lester answers, "we've been cursed by the Bile Lords so that when we're sorely beset they'll come kick our butts."

"I didn't know that it was a curse," Sybele says, but the rest ignore her.  

"I'll help you break the curse," Malford offers.  "I am required by Galador to do that sort of thing.  Heh heh."

"Once the adventuring bug got back into you, you just can't stop, eh, Malford?" Lester slaps the king on the back, who looks a little sheepish but certainly can't deny his friend's words.

"Your Majesty, may I speak to you alone for a moment?" Thrush asks, and the two go aside and speak in quiet tones for a moment.  Meanwhile, Orbius casts _sendings_ to Garnet, Zelman and Patyn, receives a reply only from Patyn (_I oppose the Black Academy- it is surely the greater danger; join me_).  He also dispatches a _sending_ to Marius, offering to let him take Jezebel as his apprentice.  His heart feels oddly tight as he does so.  A reply indicates acceptance; and the Eye prepares to cast a _gate_ to the Citadel of Eternity.  Jezebel casts him a longing look, and he opens the portal.

Jezebel hesitates for a long moment; then she throws her arms around Orbius and kisses him full on the lips.  The kiss draws itself out for a long moment, then breaks; and the Sybele's half-dragon lovechild steps through the _gate._

Orbius sighs and lets the _gate_ close.  He does indeed hope to see her again in the future.

"All right," says Lester decisively.  "Squirmhall."


*Back in Bile Mountain.


_*Next Time:*_ Squirmhall!


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

Very nice, I didn't check in yesterday, and low and behold: 4 updatse in a row, very nice 

Haven't finished the earlier parts, I started somewhere in the middle and continued from there, but I'm really growing to liking this story alot-keep up the good work Jester


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## the Jester

Sollir Furryfoot said:
			
		

> *Very nice, I didn't check in yesterday, and low and behold: 4 updatse in a row, very nice
> 
> Haven't finished the earlier parts, I started somewhere in the middle and continued from there, but I'm really growing to liking this story alot-keep up the good work Jester  *




Thanks!

All of my story hours are interrelated somehow.  For instance, you'll find Malford in the early years and this one, plus a few minor appearance in Agents of Chaos; you'll find Clambake in both my old story hour and the Politics of Tirchond one; Sheva and Zeebo are in Agents of Chaos and are/will be in Politics of Tirchond; Horbin ties the old story hour to Agents of Chaos and this one; etc.

I'm glad you're enjoying it- if you want some of the backstory, well- the immediate predecessor to this thread is Agents of Chaos.  The Politics of Tirchond happens at about the same time as the start of this thread.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

*sigh*

If P-kitty and jonrog updated this frequently, there would be even more drooling fanboys reading their SH's than there are now...

Great stuff, Jester!


----------



## Welverin

*Re: A Bit of Flesh*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> **Ten points for Welverin!*




Woo-hoo! Go me, I'm in the lead!

So what inspired his appearance?


----------



## the Jester

*Re: Re: A Bit of Flesh*



			
				Welverin said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Woo-hoo! Go me, I'm in the lead!
> 
> So what inspired his appearance? *




He's played by the same guy who plays Malford and Sheva.  Malford wouldn't want to go to the Far Realms, and so he decided to bring in Spukoni- easy enough, since he'd befriended Nigel, Angelfire's father, who had been hanging out with one or the other Marius.


----------



## Welverin

So he finally succumbed to the lure of evil and returned, eh?


----------



## the Jester

*Squirmhall*

Strogass is a huge continent thousands of miles away from Var.  Nonetheless, a _teleport without error_ followed by trump use should get our heroes there.  When the morning comes- the evening having been spent in planning for the journey- Orbius teleports himself to a great cliff.  His superior knowledge of geography, fortunately for the group, has left him knowing the locations of many unusual places.

Somewhere on this cliff...

Picture if you a thick board.  Break it in two, shift one piece up so that it's higher than the other, make it about a mile and a half high and you have a decent picture of this cliff.  To the west is open ocean; the face of the cliff towards the sea is riddled with caves.  Squirmhall, according to Orbius' readings, is somewhere in there.

Some flying and detection magic soon enough reveals a magical aura emanating from beneath the water about half a mile south of the party's initial position.  It looks to be underwater.  Malford casts a _water breathing_ on most of our heroes (though Lester has gills and thus doesn't need it) and in they go.

The underwater cave the party enters is oddly shaped, not having the typical appearance of a sea cave.  Soon the rock gives way to a weird organic-looking surface.  Then it slopes upward and opens on a strange air-filled cave, but one that pulses as if alive.  Membranes form, cutting part of the cave off from the rest, then dissolve away.  Weird fluids leak out and are reabsorbed.  The floor grows lumps that are slurped back inside it momentarily.  It's somewhat reminiscent of the Doom Sleeper; our heroes seem to be spending a lot of time inside living things lately (and will shortly spend some more).

"Whoa," Lester says in a hushed voice.

"Vuivui*!" Malford calls.  "I, God-King Malford the Magnificent, and my allies, who include warriors of Chaos, come to ask you a boon!"

_Vuivui... Vuivui... Vuivui..._  The name seems to echo and reverberate, almost taking on a life of its own, growing louder and louder.  In a few seconds it becomes painfully loud, and Thrush and Malford clutch at their ears, deafened by the terrible noise.  Sybele, gritting her teeth, manifests _control sound_ and tones it down to manageable levels.

"Whew," says Drelvin.  "Looks like we know what _not_ to do now."

"Hey, look!" Angelfire exclaims.  He's pointing at a spot on the floor; but nobody else quite catches what he saw, as the floor seems to be growing back over.  

"What was it?"

"It looked like a bookcase," Angelfire tells them.  Sybele strides over to where he's pointing and reaches out to touch the floor.  

Then there's a loud _zap!_ and she cries out, snatching her smoking hand away, just as two weird things that seem almost formless melt up from within the chamber and into view!  A quick flurry of eyes and noses regard the party as the two chaos beasts** begin to slither forward towards our heroes!



*For the record, it's pronounced VOO-ee-VOO-ee.  
**Er, two spring attacking, 10th-level fighter chaos beasts, that is...


_*Next Time:*_ To Summon Vuivui!


----------



## the Jester

*Vuivui*

The party acts fast, with weapons clearing scabbards and spells flying to mind, but they aren't trying to fight here; so it's really Malford who seizes the initiative here.

"Peace!" he calls, hoping fervently his _wingtips of diplomacy_ will come through, and so they do.*  "We come to beg of boon of great Vuivui, I have encountered him before!" 

There's a momentary hesitation and the two chaos beasts sunk back into the organic-seeming wall of the Squirmhall.  Our heroes look to Malford in amazement, who merely smiles and turns back to the search.  The party waits for the bookcase to become visible, and though it briefly does from time to time, it's only for an instant.  Finally growing impatient, Angelfire digs or it, bracing himself against the forces that course through him as he does so, and he forces open an area of skin that does indeed cover a bookcase hosting a single book.

Quickly our heroes retrieve the book and ascertain that it contains a ritual that will summon Vuivui himself to the Squirmhall, and they determine to use it.  Lester reads the magical words out while Sybele stops Vuivui's name from causing trouble, and soon the room fairly churns with power.  And then Vuivui arrives- a great slaad lord, currently tinged with pink and violet.  He stares placidly at the heroes.  

"Vuivui," Lester calls to the looming frog-thing, "we have incurred the great wrath of powerful enemies, who have laid a curse upon us that we'll be attacked when it great distress!  We beg your aid- we understand you can help us.  Will you lift this curse?"

In response, the great slaad's tongue shoots out and sticks to Lester.  He gazes dumbly at it for an instant, then is jerked straightaway into Vuivui's mouth.  Vuivui's throat works once, and Lester is down the hatch.

"Er, that's not exactly what we meant," Malford begins.  Vuivui seems to contemplate the small gnome for a moment before deciding he's bite sized, and then his tongue shoots out and sticks to Malford.  With a yelp of surprise, the gnome-king finds himself drawn into the slaad's mouth and, in one great convulsive grunt, swallowed whole.

"Uh-" says Sybele, and the rest of the party looks on in shock.  

"Oh crap," mutters Orbius, and indeed, the slaad seems to be giving him the eye.  Should he fight back?  Cast a spell?  Or...

"Maybe it's part of the process," Sybele reasons, and then Orbius is in the mouth; without hesitation, it consumes the huge archer next.  

"I don't know about this- OH CRAP!!" Thrush cries.


*Malford got a _50_ on his Diplomacy check.  That certainly set me back a moment.

_*Next Time:*_ The aftermath of the Vuivui incident!


----------



## pogre

Well, I finally made it through. Fun story - enjoyed it.

Either you have a lot of notes or your groups play a lot!

Keep on cranking.


----------



## the Jester

pogre said:
			
		

> *Well, I finally made it through. Fun story - enjoyed it.
> 
> Either you have a lot of notes or your groups play a lot!
> *




Both!   

This thread is barely over a game behind right now; likewise the Politics thread, but that one's harder to update since there's a lot more... well... politics. 

And of course, the Early Years has about 400 games or so to be caught up to my previous story hours...


----------



## the Jester

*Down and Out the Hatch*

"Urgh," Lester gargles as he's crushed in the gizzard of the great slaad Vuivui.  He can't even really move; worse yet, his friends are crammed in with him.  Many of them, maybe most...  Then the muscles around him constrict, squeeze, and force him and the others down... down... through warm intestines and out Vuivui's palpitating anus.  The L falls onto a hard surface, shaken.  An instant later Malford is squeezed out on top of him.

"Are you all right?" Thrush calls tensely.  "Sybele?"  His blade is naked in his hand; he looks frightened.  He's standing next to Vuivui, and they are not where they were.  Indeed, they are in a wooded area.

Vuivui grunts as Orbius drops from within him, then an instant later with a convulsion he passes Sybele forth.  Coughing and gagging, covered in suspect liquid, our heroes struggle to their feet.

"We should be called the poop party," Malford grumbles, thinking to all the sewers, fecal worms and worth that he's encountered over the years.  And now he's been pooped out by a slaad.

"What happened?" Lester demands of Thrush.

"The- the slaad thing ate you all, and then they appeared- the Bile Lords, and their golem- and then Vuivui teleported us away."  He gulps.  "He didn't eliminate the curse- he _triggered_ it."

"And now hopefully it's done," Malford muses.  Vuivui makes an affirmative motion, and our heroes cry out in gladness.

"If there's anything we can do for you," Sybele starts, and suddenly there's a wrenching sensation as the entire group finds themselves _plane shifted_.  Sybele halts her sentence.

The group stands upon a weathered surface of remarkable flatness.  Debris, including bones, is visible almost everywhere.  Most of it seems to be the detritus of war machines and soldierly equipment.  The sky is black, with neither stars nor moon nor sun, but there are numerous fires on cubes in the sky, providing a strange dim lighting that pervades the place.  In the distance the sound of clashing armies can be heard.

An image appears before Vuivui of a strange, clockwork creature.  "It's some kind of inevitable," Orbius exclaims.

_Destroy,_ Vuivui demands.  And he vanishes, leaving our heroes in Acheron.

_*Next Time:*_ A Deadly Dragon


----------



## the Jester

*Kobolds on the Wing*

Our resourceful heroes quickly and magically ascertain that the creature they seek is in "the Cells of Urthgor, within the Cube of Drakos."  Drakos, Malford tells them instantly, is one of the elven gods of Gorel- an oppressive, iron-fisted deity of an island with two elven peoples, constantly trying to destroy each other.  Glancing around at the myriad cubes of all different sizes in the sky, Orbius announces that they seem to be on the plane of Acheron.  It's one of the Outer Planes, he informs them; a plane of endless, pointless war.  

Our heroes fly about under a _mass fly_ for a time, not sure which way to go at first, looking for an inhabitant.  They find two orcs sitting at a cook fire.  In the conversation that ensues, they claim to have gotten separated from their unit, which has now moved on to another cube.  When Malford offers them a lift up to their people, the two orcs gladly accept, and soon the captain of the orcish forces has pointed the way to Drakos' Cube.  "You'll know it; it's littered with war machines," he tells them, and thanking the orcs for their unusually good behavior, the group camps for a rest period, and then Lester creates an _airboat_ and they head off in the direction they've been told that the Cube of Drakos lies in.

For several hours they travel without event.  There are small bits of misshaped metal that float in the void around them, an occasional arrow or bolt, even once or twice large rocks or boulders.  And bodies- most especially bones; they are commonplace.

As our heroes move along, Sybele reflects on glad she is that she sent Jezebel away.  This place is not good.  In fact- what's that?  "Look!" she calls, pointing.

In the distance, a zone of blackness is moving across the sky, obscuring objects and cubes as it passes before them.

Orbius casts _clairvoyance,_ and hears a voice in Draconic.  "Send in the flyers," it growls arrogantly, and an instant later small winged-looking specks pop from the darkness.  "Kobolds!  Kobolds on glider wings of some kind!" cries the sharp-eyed wizard.  And they're coming in fast, moving with the kind of great speed that allows only a moment's preparation.

Rushing up onto the deck of the ship of clouds, Thrush prepares for battle.  Sybele follows him up, manifesting an extended _ displacement_.  Malford's already up there, casting _haste_ and _blink_.  Then, from within the darkness comes a deep intoning voice, and an eyeblink later a _chain lightning_ shoots out at the three of them.  Several of the kobolds pull out wands and hurl a multitude of _fireballs_ at the ship.  Fortunately for our heroes, Malford's _gauntlets of absorbtion_ suck them away, glowing red with power, and start fuelling the gnome-king's strength.

"These guys mean business!" Horbin shouts as he clambers up on deck.  Thrush nods fiercely as he stands ready to break their charge when they arrive, probably only seconds away.  Malford fires a pair of _flame arrows_ at the kobolds, dividing up his shots between two of them; but to his surprise, none of the targeted kobolds fall.  Their gliders do catch fire, however.  Sybele fires arrows out at them, and one of them jerks and goes still, his form still plummeting towards the deck of their _airboat._

Then, from the darkness, now some 50' away, a cone of shadowy darkness shoots out, catching everyone in the ship.  There are a chorus of screams as enervating negative energy settles in on them- delivering a telling _five negative levels_ to those who failed their saving throw (which was everyone the first time around).  

Suddenly bereft of their most powerful spells and at a profound disadvantage, our heroes are shocked by this unexpectedly deadly attack.  They need to get it together and fast, but before they can there's a _cone of cold_ from within the darkness.  Terrible damage is inflicted on everyone save Angelfire, who's still below decks activating buffing powers.  The same voice that Orbius heard booms out from the darkness, delighted.  "Malford!  What a splendid prize!  Father will be so pleased!"

_Not good!_ thinks Malford, casting a _mass flight_ on the party and then throwing a _dispel magic_ at the darkness.  Success reveals-

A dragon.  

A dragon towing some sort of... war platform.  With catapults, and kobolds, and glider wings... and a dozen of the kobolds are en route to the _airboat_ but there are a few more on the platform; and, of course, the dragon himself.  This horror is almost translucent, covered in indistinct midnight-blue or black scales.  Its long, sinuous neck has short horns on it, as well as a pair of spiny rows running down to its dark wings.  The thing seems to blend with the darkness around it, losing distinction in the darkness.  Its chest is a sapphire color so dark as to be almost black.  With a grin, he _hastes_ himself, then brings up _mirror images_.  

Two of the kobolds are down, now, but several of them have slowed their charge and turned invisible, though their glider wings remain visible.  More- a half dozen- have landed on the deck and shrugged out of their gliders.  They rush forward, several attacking Angelfire as he emerges on deck, and one of them- he looks kinda funny, seems to have a longer neck and horns- belches out a cone of shadow!  Angelfire resists this one, and thanks to his _ring of evasion_ suffers no negative levels from it.

Then Angelfire and Thrush both are hacking around them.  Thrush moves forward and hews one of the kobold's head from his shoulders; Angelfire, seriously beset himself, has four arms thanks to his _cloak of embrace_ and he uses them to great effect, with both his falchion and his scythe working in deadly tandem.  There's a hail of blows at all the kobolds around him, and they drop in numbers.  Sybele continues to fire her bow.  She's directing punishing-looking shots at a sorcerer-looking kobold- though she doesn't know it, his name is Maxxor- and she drops him.  

Then the dragon flexes its great wings and descends on Angelfire, smashing him with a wing, a claw and his tail.  The blows deal terrible wounds to the Coilite, but when has Angelfire ever fled from a fight?

Then a catapult shot fires past our heroes, missing the _airboat_ by perhaps a dozen paces.  The shot whistles past them, but after a moment it explodes!  Sybele determines to get to work on the problem of the catapults posthaste.  She flies up towards the arm of the v-shaped platform that the catapult shot came from and _mind blasts_ the crew, stunning them.  

On the deck, Thrush has gotten into the middle of the enemy that's set down, and in a single motion he kills all of them but one.  Once again even our heroes are impressed by his deadliness.  

Angelfire tries to use a _lesser restoration_ to fix the huge negative levels sitting on his shoulders, but it doesn't seem to work.  He strikes at the dragon, hitting one image and dispelling it; with his scythe he misses entirely, and since he's _hasted_ he _dimension doors_ to the lower deck so as to deny the dragon its attack on him.

Malford casts _true strike_ on his sun blade, then flies in, rolling, diving, and dodging to avoid the dragon's threatening teeth.  Then he burns all the power in his gauntlets, boosting his strength for a moment to truly ludicrous levels, and he attacks, using his sun blade to great effect.  He strikes a blow that deals a wound to the great beast- the first damage our heroes have inflicted upon him.

In reply, Sautix (for that is the dragon's name) snaps his teeth at Malford, snatches him, and with a great pumping of the wings, flies off with him.


_*Next Time:*_ The rest of the battle against Sautix, and we'll check in with an old enemy!


----------



## Technik4

This seems like the biggest fight the party has had in a while! I was wondering when that half-half dragon would poke his head in  I'm not sure I got the imagery right, was the dragon pulling a big thing through the air (which held kobolds) like a flying aircraft carrier cart? Anyway, thats what it seemed like to me.

At any rate, I hope to see him (her?) in the rg soon, along with one of those kobold gliders 

Great job juggling all the story hours (as usual) Jester, as always wishing I could be in there...

Technik
Brought to you by the organization against seeing this story hit page 2.


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## the Jester

Technik4 said:
			
		

> *This seems like the biggest fight the party has had in a while! I was wondering when that half-half dragon would poke his head in  I'm not sure I got the imagery right, was the dragon pulling a big thing through the air (which held kobolds) like a flying aircraft carrier cart? Anyway, thats what it seemed like to me.*




That's about right... funny image, eh?


----------



## the Jester

*~Interlude~*

"Fah!" roars Tamult the Bile Lord, and storms from the room.  

He strides quickly to his own chamber, slams the stone door shut, and sweeps a collection of glassware from atop some of the new wooden furnishings.  The glasses shatter, the pitcher breaks into many shards, but the plate survives.  He brings his foot crashing down onto it, destroying it as well.

"Wait, wait, wait!" he roars.  "Now they've defeated the spell, and still wait, wait, wait!  _No more!_"

Fuming, he takes up his staff and a strange rod,  then goes to the prison.  He turns the rod on first one, then another of the prisoners, lip curled in a sneer as they howl in agony while bile sprays across them.  Then he seizes control of them and, growling deep in his throat, drags their writhing forms with him.  

He'll wait no longer than necessary for the two of them to change.  Vengeance cannot wait forever.

Meanwhile, on the plane of Acheron, where a horrible dragon besets our heroes....


----------



## the Jester

*The Halfbreed*

Where were we?  Ah, yes.  Our heroes are on Acheron, being attacked by what appears to be a very powerful shadow dragon.  The dragon, one Sautix, is flying away with Malford.  Behind him our heroes are routing the dragon’s kobold servitors, though one spellcaster is proving fairly tenacious.  Things don’t look too bad, other than the bit about Malford- but he’s _blinking_, so he gets free of the dragon’s mouth quite easily, taunting the dragon wickedly as he does so.  Then he casts a _vampiric touch_ and siphons some of the creature’s energy, then tumbles away.  _Where have I seen this thing before?_ he wonders.  _Who is its father?  I’ve never _met_ a shadow dragon before!_  Behind him, Horbin, in flying pursuit of the dragon, casts _destruction,_ but to no avail.  The dragon shrugs it off.  

Thrush, meanwhile, is caught by the kobold sorcerer’s spell even as he drops the last kobold on the _airboat_ our heroes are traveling on.  He turns to Sybele and cries, “Sybele!  We must hooble the driplewaple, mungle morsh!”  

Angelfire, meanwhile, is moving through the kobolds that Sybele stunned with her _mind blast_, cutting them almost in two with his falchion.  His eyes blaze angrily as he does so, kobold blood splattering all up and down his body.  Then, eyeing the catapult that hasn’t yet been fired- the stunned kobolds were ready, but hadn’t yet had their shot- he smiles grimly, swings it in line to fire at the dragon, and cuts the rope, releasing the shot.  It flies wide, exploding off the dragon’s side.  Arrows are whizzing out at his dwindling shape, missing it; however, he’s turning to come in for another pass, casting _bull’s strength_ on himself first.  It isn’t over yet, and still only Malford has managed to hurt Sautix.  Steadying himself in the air, Horbin casts _lower resistance_ at the monster, now flying back towards them.

Then Sautix breathes again, another cone of shadowy negative energy, and our heroes groan in agony as they suffer another round of negative levels.**

Twisting to avoid the shadowy breath, Malford reaches the _airboat_, but once there he’s surprised to find himself the victim of a sudden savage full attack from Thrush.  Fortunately, he’s both _blinking_ and _displaced_, so only one blow hits- but it’s still quite a blow!*  Thrush cries, “Malford!  Warfle de bliglig!  Ulmor, rigo pa!”  Noting this, and deducing that Thrush is likely _confused_, Angelfire targets a _dispel magic_ from a wand at the hapless warrior, and in an instant he shakes his head and comes back to himself.  “Sorry!” he calls to Malford, realizing what he’d just done.

Sybele moves forward and hurls her new blade, Snakebite, which has the _throwing_ property.  It whizzes out, smacks the dragon but fails to penetrate his hide, and falls.  Snakebite, alas, does not have the _returning_ property, and it vanishes into the dark sky below them in an instant.  Sybele gives a cry of dismay, and the dragon laughs heartily.  Malford manages to penetrate Sautix’ spell resistance with a _phantasmal killer,_ but the dragon sneers at the puny magic.  Then, opening his mouth in a huge grin, Sautix breathes again- but this time, it’s a bolt of lightning, arcing out into Angelfire***, which he follows immediately with a charge and a bite, tearing along his ribs and side!  An arrow of acid shoots into the beast from Malford, scoring a hit, but Sautix seems almost as strong as ever and turns contemptuously to face his foe.

And then  Horbin cries a strange word, a word of such primal Chaos that it causes the very fabric of reality to quiver, and it seems to echo for a moment before the surprised-looking dragon; then he is gone, banished back to his home plane.  “Thank Dexter!” Horbin cries, and whatever god you name, that sentiment’s pretty well shared.  

Our heroes gather together, shaken, and do what healing they can.  “We’ve got to go get my sword!”  Sybele insists, but she’s reassured by Malford that if they wait until they have a chance to recover from the negative levels, they’ll be in much better shape.  

“What if we run into trouble?” Horbin points out.  “We’re in no shape to deal with anything right now.”  Sybele reluctantly accedes, and they turn to the flying V the dragon had been towing by a great chain.  With some experimentation, they determine that it can be pulled by Sybele, and with great satisfaction they determine to keep it.  Malford declares that he’ll use it for the defense of Var, and everyone agrees to the wisdom of that proposal.  

They also find a great deal of loot, which includes many minor magic weapons and armor, a few wands of _invisibility_ and _fireball_, and a pair of very interesting longspears (graven with the names Dragon-Tongue and Broken Wheel).  Maxxor, the tenacious kobold sorcerer, had among his things a _wand of enervation, bracers of armor +4, _and a number of scroll with interesting spells on them, including _ lightning bolt, protective shock, chain lightning, circle of death, globe of invulnerability, dispel exhaustion, horrible wound, teleport, summon monster VII, _ and the infamous _puncture._  He also has a minor spellbook of first-level spells.

Sybele puts away her _dorje of identify_, happy once again to have it.

“A lot of this stuff can probably go into the arsenal,” God-King Malford muses.  The party agrees; with a few exceptions, they don’t really want the minor weapons.  After a short division of spoils (Sybele and Thrush take the two long-spears), Horbin casts a _gate_ spell and the party maneuvers the war machine through it.  Horbin and Malford take a quick trip to Var to dispose of the items they don’t need or want with them.  While there, they run into Gorlon Gallad, on of Malford’s ‘agents’, who’s shown a lot of promise in his operations over the last year or two.  Malford invites him along, and he joins the party****.  While they finish their preparations for their return to the rest of the group on Acheron, they run across a sheepish Telemundo, who offers his apologies for his earlier foolishness and sweet-talks his way back in as well after offering his assurance that he won’t start trouble.  Then Horbin conjures another _gate_ and the four head back to Acheron.

After introducing Gorlon around, Malford watches warily as the aged Telemundo approaches Angel.  “Look, I just wanted to say, no hard feelings about earlier, okay?” the sorcerer grumbles, offering his hand to the Coilite.  Angelfire takes his hand, gives his a good hard squeeze, and smiles.

“Don’t cross me, or I’ll kill you,” he warns, releasing Telemundo’s hand.  And he smiles... 


*47 hp of damage.

**Now ranging from 7-10 each.  Yikes!

***At this moment, Malford’s player said, “Can you apply the half-dragon template to a dragon?”  (Yes you can, they talk about it in I think it’s Savage Species.)

****Gorlon Gallad is a bard 9/ranger 7, and his player’s an old friend of most of the group’s.  It’s good to have him- here’s hoping he can play regularly!


_*Next Time:*_ Against the Inevitable!  Also, I'll be posting Lester's stats in the Rogues' Gallery thread sometime soon- his player finally emailed them to me!


----------



## Welverin

*Re: Down and Out the Hatch*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *"Urgh," Lester gargles as he's crushed in the gizzard of the great slaad Vuivui.  He can't even really move; worse yet, his friends are crammed in with him.  Many of them, maybe most...  Then the muscles around him constrict, squeeze, and force him and the others down... down... through warm intestines and out Vuivui's palpitating anus.  The L falls onto a hard surface, shaken.  An instant later Malford is squeezed out on top of him.*




What is your obsession with these sort of things?

Where's _puncture_ from?


----------



## the Jester

*Re: Re: Down and Out the Hatch*



			
				Welverin said:
			
		

> *
> 
> What is your obsession with these sort of things? *




Er, it's not that I'm obsessed with these things, just that the party has been in the wrong place at the wrong time a lot lately.  And with the incident above, it was a matter of triggering the 'sorely beset' clause....

*



			Where's puncture from?
		
Click to expand...


*
My homebrewed campaign has tons of cool spells.  Here's the 3.5 version of _puncture:_

*PUNCTURE*
Transmutation [Force]
Level: Sor/Wiz 8
Components: V, S
Casting Time: 1 action
Range: Long (400’+40’/level)
Effect: Ray
Duration: Instantaneous
Saving Throw: Fort partial
Spell Resistance: Yes

This powerful spell blasts a small hole, about 2” in diameter, in anything it hits.  The power of this puncture is such that the rest of the object or creature is often shattered as well; regardless of the saving throw the target suffers 6d12 damage.  An object that fails its saving throw is shattered into pieces and all parts of the object within 1’/level of the targeted area is destroyed.  A creature that fails its saving throw must roll on the following chart to determine the exact effects:

01-20- Random arm blown off
21-40- Random leg blown off
41-50- Head shot!  Knocked unconscious, lose 1d6 each permanent Int and Wis; 50% chance to lose an eye
51-60- Neck: head blown off, killed
61-80- Torso: stunned 3d10 round
81-00- Torso: internal damage is extensive, permanent loss of 1d6 Con.

Casting this spell is so taxing that you immediately suffer 3d4 points of subdual damage.


----------



## Welverin

*Re: Re: Re: Down and Out the Hatch*



			
				the Jester said:
			
		

> *
> 
> Er, it's not that I'm obsessed with these things, just that the party has been in the wrong place at the wrong time a lot lately.  And with the incident above, it was a matter of triggering the 'sorely beset' clause....*




As the Dm you're the one who creates such situations, so go trying to pawn the blame off on the poor players

Nasty spell by the way.


----------



## the Jester

*Against the Inevitable*

Acheron, plane of endless war for its own sake.  The cubes smash and rumble in the distance, the echoes of the sounds of battle ring through this bleak cosmos.  There is nothing good here, no love or happiness- just unending bitterness and violence.  

And, of course, an inevitable that our heroes must destroy.

Somewhere on Drakos’ Cube, locked inside the Cells of Urthgor, lies their target.  First they use magic to retrieve Sybele’s blade; then a little searching around finds the wan soul of a deserter, trying to hide from the ceaseless conflict of the plane.  He’s dead now, of course- but his eternal punishment is a futile attempt to escape the warfare that ruled his life.  A little persuasion and the simpering petitioner leads them to a series of mines, and at the bottom they find what they seek.  Some sort of squat statue of clay bars their way, demanding, “Astos or Crotus?”

Malford, blase as always in these situations, answers, “Why, Astos of course!”

And a secret way opens before our heroes.

They enter it cautiously, and find themselves facing a narrow stairway heading down.  They follow it into an antechamber with a huge locked and barred door on what seems to be some sort of thick cube of bindings and chains.  

Locked and barred from their side- to keep something _in_, not to keep anything out.  

Huge chains run around a multitude of pillars in the chamber.  Thick, adamantine links as big around as Angelfire’s thighs seem held taut against breaking.  They feed, ultimately, into the large cell’s door.  

Gorlon listens at the massive door.  “I can hear creaking and groaning,” he tells his fellow adventurers, “the sound of metal straining...”

Four locks and bars fall quickly to the skills of Malford; by the time he’s done our heroes have drawn weapons and are on the balls of their feet, ready to fight.  But the chains still hold the Cell of Urthgor shut.  But they start to slowly, one by one, snap- the first as the locks are picked, then another and another.  Our heroes are ready, dammit, ready for the inevitable to emerge.  It’s bound to happen soon, soon...

*Snap!* goes another chain, then two more rapidly.  Any moment....

The door to the cell bursts open, the inevitable rushing out, free after who knows how long!  Its bizarre shape seems to mirror the cosmic rules that spawned it, yet somehow it has gone rogue, being imprisoned here against some eventuality our heroes can only guess at.  Its body is shaped something like an oversized top, with blocky pieces of clockwork fitted together.  Where our heroes can glance within it, they see gears, pulleys, cables, small spheres resembling entire worlds. 

Wasting no time, our heroes show this construct just how powerful they are.  Thrush moves in, his blade whipping into his hands almost of its own volition.  Gorlon bursts into song as he brings out his weapon and the party feels a burst of confidence.  Telemundo casts _Marius’ sidestep_ and makes a short distance hop out of the monster’s immediate reach (or so he hopes) even as Malford tries to hold it with a spell.  Angelfire’s cloak of embrace and boots of speed both activate, giving the scarlet-skinned Coilite four arms and amazing speed.  He _displaces_ himself.

Then the strange Law-construct creates a _forcecage_ around Thrush and Angelfire, taking the two biggest fighters out of the battle.  It’s moving forwards, inevitably (if you’ll pardon the pun) seeking egress from this place. 

“Nope!” calls Horbin, and casts _lower resistance_ on the clockwork thing.  Gorlon fires a burst of _magic missiles_ at it, and then Telemundo shows his power with a shimmering ray that blasts out and _disintegrates_ the inevitable.  And just like that, it’s over.  And a _gate_ spell later, our heroes are home in Var, and their other obligations discharged, they’re ready to get on with the real business at hand.

Felenga.

Felenga, who’s plans are even now approaching fruition.  Felenga, who’s got the key he needs.  Felenga, who will soon be in position to release his master into the accursed Darkhold, the only thing to survive before... the thing that spawned a new universe.

Time runs short.


_*Next Time:*_ The Hunt for Felenga!


----------



## Greybar

The instant-kill spells can be kind of anticlimatic... sigh.  Ah well, it was a side-trip anyway.

On to Felenga!

john


----------



## the Jester

_*Note:* the following update was actually written by Lester!  _

The colors of the sun slowly blend themselves from light orange to a deep magenta, as our adventurers relax on God-King Malford's magnificent third-level patio.  The breeze slowly blows into their faces and they all stare outwards, not towards the setting sun, but towards the South-East, in the direction of The Temple of Elemental Evil.  Inevitably, their meandering thoughts follow.

Angelfire steadily pours down his drinks and numbly enjoys the great variety of liquors available at the castle.  He sits, alone, near the edge of the ramparts.  Yes, he thinks, Lester's stupid Temple now houses the most powerful being of ultimate evil on all Cydra.  I should leave all this behind, strike out for Coila, and myself before Felenga tries to freeze me again!  Still, we are so powerful together, and the rewards have always been high for those with the force to do the most daring deed.  I must profit myself and Coila if I am to ever inflict her will upon Cydra! 

Sybele and Thrush sit away from the rest of the group on an ivory bench, inlayed with a touching picture of Malford, on one knee, proposing to his Queen.  Sybele barely fits her large body on the bench and Thursh is forced to sit on her right leg.  They cuddle close and
lovingly, but Thrush can't help but feel . . . small. Maybe we could retire after we overthrow the Temple, he thinks wistfully.  No, he is reminded, Sybele must still keep her bargain with Marius.  Maybe then, he mutters as he squeezes closer to his large and lovely lady.  She is so much more to me now, he thinks. I must protect her for the children.  I will probably need to guard her mainly from herself . . . 

Sybele, like Angelfire, is enjoying the bevy of beverages available at the castle.  At least I don't have to drink strong and hearty meads and ales for the sake of my unborn children, she thinks.  Now I can have whatever I want!  She smiles, hugs Thrush with her large arm, and realizes that she's beginning to feel a little randy.  As she starts to put her drink down and haul Thrush off, a violent picture of Felenga
rips into her mind, more terrifying than King Malford's illusions could ever replicate!  She sees Felenga melt her armor with his rust monster tentacles, then move in to touch her with a fist glowing in greenish flame.  Her whole body shakes with a coldness that comes over her, the coldness of utter nothingness . . . Thankfully, her chaotic mind saves her and the images quickly fades away into her beloved Thrush.  He looks at her passionately, she licks her lips, and they both run off laughing, trying to live in the moment as best they can.

King Malford can only laugh as he watches them escape in a most obvious manner.  He laughs again, and takes in the view of his growing kingdom from his large platinum-plated reclining beach throne, about 5 feet from the ramparts.  He wears a pair of Sunglasses that Lester gave him long ago (to protect you when the Light gets too bright, said Lester) and sips an elegant Thayan brandy. To his left stands High Priest Turdlin the Smirv with a small wash basin and towel.   Turdlin gently washes Malford's small, aged left hand and timidly compares it with his own gnomely hand.  So close in our gnomish heritage, thinks Turdlin, yet I am touching one that has ascended to Godhood!  Could I only help him complete his journey, my own rock would be carved by destiny! 

Lester, Orbius, and Horbin are to Malford's right, enjoying a spirited game of Lester-Ball, (a cooperative game that requires 2 or more participant to keep a small, sand filled ball aloft by using any body part except hands and arms).  "Played this with Boccob once", quips the L, "he wasn't very good, but at least he's not a total dunce!"  

Orbius deftly juggles conversation with his Lester-Ball duties. “Horbin, it is likely that we will need to consecrate the Temple proper.  Could you see to this?"

"Most likely, but what are we going to about Felenga? I won't have enough time to cleanse the stink of Tharizdun if I'm trying to dodge his beholder eye." Horbin stretches his foot to the edge of the rampart and barely manages to get his toes on the ball.  He gracefully launches it over his head, . . . and into Turdlin's small tub of water.

"Oops!"

"You must learn to work together in a more efficient manner," dictates Turdlin.  "The Temple of Elemental Evil would never have been overthrown the first time without God-King Malford's leadership and proper cooperative tactics and you won't do well against Felenga if you can't even complete a full 'Lester' together!' "

"Testify, Malford, about our killing of Zuggtmoy!" shouts Lester.  "It was like we were the cat and she was our toy!"

"Testify! Testify!" shouts Turdlin as he quickly dries God-King Malford's hand and picks up paper and quill.

Malford chuckles to himself, clears his throat.  Ha, the first defeat of the temple, he thinks.  We did indeed conquer it together, and, oh, the loot the scored afterwards! Who did land that final blow upon Zuggtmoy?  Who was it???

Yes, I will tell the story, Turdlin," he says. "I will tell it for one final time, then it should forever be contained within the newest edition of King Malford's Revised and Expanded Galadron, with Pictures for All My Little Gnomes!"  All listen excitedly, except for Angelfire, who is having trouble sitting.  He eventually half-collapses on the floor, and lays there, gazing at the stars and listening intently.

"It is true", begins Malford, “that the Temple of Elemental Evil was only overthrown by teamwork from a group with very diverse skills.  These adventures joined myself, Dexter, Lester, and Drelvin as we charged into the eternal dungeon of the Fungus Queen, Zuggtmoy!  She should have remained there, had it not been for a certain someone breaking the seal to her chambers!"  (All eyes dart towards Lester, who attempts to distract them all with a mesmerizing fire-finger.)

"Yes, we tried to take Zuggtmoy by ourselves, but she was too much!  Fortunately, Zuggtmoy could not free herself from the Temple until several more seals were broken.  She was forced to roam the halls, freer than before, but still incarcerated with hopes to escape. Well, we couldn't just let her run around like Felenga is now.  Having a demonic element on your continent is bad for trade and other diplomatic necessities!  So, I cashed in a few favors and assembled one of the greatest adventuring teams ever seen on Dorhaus!"  

Who killed Zuggtmoy? thinks Malford.  Who was it that landed that fatal blow?  It is not like me to forget so easily.  Yet, perhaps it was meant to be . . . 

"We were joined by Jerakai, Thaumaturge-Assassin," continues Malford.  His infernal blood called out to him to destroy Zuggtmoy, plus he owed me a favor for saving him in a battle against his arch-nemesis, The Masked Avenger.  The dark necromancer, Nydroth, also joined us and brought with him a hideous Quickling-Troll bodyguard.  Thimbleton, our old adventuring pal, came along with his staff of Zelman.  Finally, the dwarves, Belmondo and Stone joined us.  They came equipped with multiple attachments for his various prosthetics and the powerful skill, Fat-Axe-To-Head!  Uh, did I say finally?  Wait, revise that Turdlin!  Our good friend, King Hobbes of the Tabaxi, could not resist his instinctual desire for the hunt!" 

"Well, we didn't have to look around long before we came upon the Demoness of Fungi.  There she was, Zuggtmoy, in her full demonic glory, just waiting for us!  She towered above us, a gigantic ball of fungus, and flailed at us with pseudopod clubs as big as 6 gnomes!"

"Lester, in a foolish attempt to strike down his sworn foe, rushed and was severely pummeled. He would have died, if not for the power of Earth and his Stoneskins. Hobbes and Stone were not far behind, but even their mighty attacks could not penetrate Zuggtmoy's spongy exterior. Thimbleton and Nydroth hurled their impressive magic at her, but neither illusion nor negative energy did much.  Belmondo and Jerakai did their best to sneak around her, but her reach was too long, and her senses too good!  Dexter unleashed the power of Galador, as Drelvin released the power of his arrows, and Zuggtmoy trembled, . . .
but did not fall!"

"What was a gnome destined for divinity to do!  Well, I couldn't just order a retreat, and let her run about the continent like she was Fuligin!  So I mustered up all of my courage and used my powers of trickery to fool her and strike the final blow!"  Lester and Drelvin better keep their mouths shut, thinks Malford.  They don't call me the God of Revisionism for nothing!

"I decreed to Zuggtmoy, 'You trespass where you are not wanted, evil Demon bitch!  Go back to the Abyss before I chop you up and have my halfling chef serve you in my soup!'  I charged forward and seemingly stumbled, and dropped Memory, my faithful shortsword.

Well, Zuggtmoy could not withstand a challenge from someone so small and so in need of help.  One so boastful and dying to be taught a lesson!  She immediately charged, but, because I was not prone on the ground, I survived!   It was only an illusion that she could not see through because of her demonic rage!  So after going by, I quickly stabbed her in a wound that hadn't had time to heal.  I pierced something vital, and Zuggtmoy was stopped in her tracks!"

All stare at Malford breathlessly, except for Lester and Drelvin, who look a bit confused. . . 

"Isn't that how you remember it, Drelvin?" asks Malford with a knowing glance.

"Uh, I remember Belmondo was almost killed by a green slime trap while we were looting the crypt!  That would have been more ironic than me losing another leg!"

(A few drunken voices try to start Drelvin's song... sort of.)

"Yes, and that, too.  I know it sounds like I did it all myself, but let the Revised and Expanded Galadron, with Pictures for All My Little Gnomes, state that I could not have done this alone, . . .as easily!  My companions, through their teamwork, laid the groundwork for my killing blow and ultimate downfall of the Temple o' Elemental Evil." Malford end his story with a regal flare of dismissal, signifying the
end of the temple and the tale.  

"Well, did you all of that, Turdlin?" questions Malford.  

"Oh, yes, God-King Malford, every syllable!  Yet, your story leaves me wanting to ask you the question . . .”

"If you were able to call upon friends then," interrupts the Eye, "perhaps you can all upon friends now.  We have helped many people, Malford.  But where do you turn when your enemy is more powerful than most Gods?"

No one answers quickly.


(Next time:  Fun with Summonings . . . or, Don't Let
the Gate Hit You On The Way In!)


_*A final note:* does this 'next time' mean that Lester's writing another?  We'll see...!_


----------



## the Jester

*The Hunt is On*

_Note:_ This update has some Temple of Elemental Evil/Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil spoilers in it.


Morning.  Little do our heroes know how close they are to utter disaster.  Unknown to them, Felenga has begun making his move.  They are discussing their next course of action.  Now that they have the Deleter and are done with the inevitable, it’s time- ridiculous as it seems- to go after Felenga.

“Maybe we should try to destroy the Temple of Elemental Evil,” Lester suggests.  “It’s his power base, right?  And we know a lot about it- some of us, most of us have been there before.”

They chew the idea over and find it palatable.  They know the Temple of Elemental Evil is connected to strange sub-planes called the elemental nodes; previously, destroying the nodes did for the Temple pretty severely.  There was also an artifact involved, the Orb of Golden Death (also called Yellowskull).  The nodes, the Orb, the Temple- the fate of all were linked.

“Maybe,” the L suggests, “we can lure Felenga into the nodes and then collapse them on him.”

Orbius begins the hunt with a _contact other plane_, reaching up to perilous heights with his mind.
_Who am I talking to?_ Dexter.
_How can I best lure Felenga into the Nodes?_ Threaten them.
_How can I threaten the nodes?_ Throne.
_What area of the Temple of Elemental Evil can we find this throne in?_ None.
_Show me an image of this throne._ Impossible.
_Will the Bile Lords recast their curse?_ Not soon.
_Are Paytyn’s goal to destroy the Black Academy and our quest to slay Felenga linked?_ No.
_What is the most powerful elemental Lester can summon with a greater planar ally spell?_ Many.
_Malford and Lester say hello and miss you very much, and they wonder- will they ever see you again in this lifetime?_ Unlikely.

Somewhat pensively, Orbius relates this information, then casts a _vision_ on the ‘throne’ Dexter mentioned.  Surprisingly, the spell fails.  Malford points out that it could have been a lie- “like when I got the ‘stain’ result,” he grumbles.

Next, the Eye casts a _sending_ to Arion the Archmage.  _I’m about to talk to Boccob, do you have a question?_  To his dismay, Arion’s answer is _Where’s my simulacrum?_  He relates this to the group as well, then _communes_.
_Who am I talking to?_ Boccob.
_What’s the best way to threaten the nodes and lure Felenga into them?_ Orb.
_Who currently has this orb?_ Unknown.
_Can we plane shift into and our of the nodes?_ Yes.
_What is the proper note to get to the node of earth?_ D flat.
_What is the proper note to get to the node of fire?_ B sharp.
_What is the proper note to get to the node of air?_ A.
_What is the proper note to get to the node of water?_ G.
_Will Felenga be frozen in time when I cast timestop?_ Unknown.
_Has Felenga had any success in getting into Darkhold?_ Yes, URGENT!!!
_Uh-oh,_ Orbius thinks, his lips tightening.  Grimly, he continues.
_Can the Master of Darkhold fend off Felenga?_ Maybe.
_Where’s the best place to start looking for Prayzose*?_ Heaven.
_Where’s the best place to start looking for the orb?_ Temple.
_Where’s the best place to look within the Temple?_ Unknown.
_Boccob, I open my mind to you- show me the Orb!_ (Nothing happens.)
_Who besides Felenga in the Temple knows the location of the Orb?_ Unknown.
_What is the name of the most powerful air creature I can call on?_ There are many.
_Where is Arion’s simulacrum?_ Blendorag.**
_What is the name of the best creature we can summon to champion our cause?_ Garnet.

“Well, that’s good news, anyhow,” Lester remarks.  Garnet’s a goddess, after all.  Can’t hurt to have one of those on your side.

Angelfire, meanwhile, surreptitiously sneaks a look into the toilet into which he’d pissed his ooze Chaos baby not so long ago, leaving his manhood a mangled, burned mess.  There’s no sign of the ooze, but the wall below the privy has a hole burnt through it.  Shrugging, he heads back to the group.

Just in time for Orbius to cast _gate_, calling to a goddess…


*The Forinthian Emperor, missing for several years, a sometimes ally, sometimes adversary of some of the party; they know he summoned the Formian hive that a somewhat different version of the group dealt with near the beginning of the Agents of Chaos story.

**Blendorag is a nasty island that hosts the Stinking Pit, which is known to be inhabited by a pit fiend.

_*Next Time:*_ A third of a goddess, an ally from the positive energy plane, and help from Heaven!  The pcs pull out all the stops to get all the help they can- and then get ready to get it on with Felenga!!!


----------



## the Jester

*Summonings*

Like a breath of fresh air, she steps through the _gate_.  Her eyes are a deep violet color, her hair the silver that only certain breeds of elves develop.  She stands as tall as a human woman, a purple cloak clasped at her breast with a silver rose.  She smiles and it is as if mother’s praise, understood for the first time, rained down on each of them as they were babies.  

“Garnet,” breathes Lester, falling to one knee, and the others follow suit.  “I’m glad you’re here, darn it!”

“Greetings, friends,” the goddess intones seriously.  “The time is late, but let us hope not too late.”

“What’s going on?  Is this the dark before the dawn?” the L cries.  “Boccob told the Eye that things are urgent, that Felenga is attacking Darkhold without relent!”

She nods.  “He must be stopped.”

“How?” asks Drelvin, and the goddess smiles softly at him.

“You know how,” she answers, and the image of the terrible artifact called the Deleter comes unbidden into the minds of the entire party.  The Deleter, recovered for just this reason… a weapon of unknown properties, but surely of great power- perhaps even great enough to defeat Felenga, the Dark One, and his minions of Elemental Evil.

Our heroes discuss matters briefly, but there really isn’t much doubt as to what they must do next.  And soon.  They must carry the battle to Felenga.  They must _delete_ him.

“Who’s going to wear it?” asks Malford.  “My divinations said that Sybele was best-qualified…”  

She has no interest in it.  “You saw the bones of the last guy’s hands!” she exclaims.  “I need my hands to fire my bow and fight with!”  Nor is anyone else especially looking forward to putting their hands in the weird, organic glove-like things.  For a moment they all disavow the device, but _someone’s_ gotta wear it if they’re to have a chance against Felenga.

“Fine,” Drelvin snorts at last.  “Give them to me.”

As the archer pulls the moist thing over his hands and shudders as it settles, clamplike, around his wrists, the rest of the party discusses who else they can call upon for aid.

“Heaven,” Orbius suggests. 

“The positive energy plane,” Horbin reasons, “since we’re going up against undead.”

“I’ll summon a great elemental power!” Lester enthuses.  “Our party is in full flower!”  He goes first, attempting initially to summon the elemental prince of good air, but it seems too powerful for him to call.  Sweating, he releases the spell and tries again, this time summoning the strongest air elemental he can.  After a few moments of bargaining, he agrees to help it free its brethren from some sort of imprisonment in an engine in exchange for its help in fighting and destroying Felenga.  

Horbin opens a _gate_ to the positive energy plane, summoning a weird energy being named Glantri, that asks only that Horbin agree to summon it three more times in exchange for its aid.  With a smile and a shrug, Horbin the Holy agrees.

Finally, Orbius calls to Heaven with a _gate_ and is awestruck when a solar emerges.  It, too, agrees to help- in exchange for Lester’s agreeing to the reinstatement of his _geas._

“Well,” the L reasons, “we’re on track anyhow… no reason not to take it back now!”

And then they make ready to move.

“I still think we should assault the Temple first, and save for last the worst,” the L gripes, but Garnet turns her compelling eyes on him and he quickly changes his mind.

“Will you fight beside us?” Malford asks.

Garnet smiles.  “I am the Triple Goddess, or that aspect of her called Sabine.  My two sisters are within Darkhold even now, aiding the Master of that place in his defense.  I remain out here as backup in case they should fail.”

“In other words, no,” Lester whines.  “We shouldn’t even go!”

“I must remain without,” she confirms, “but I can still help you greatly.  I will aid you in communication, linking you all together telepathically.  And I will take you there.

“I will take you to Darkhold.”



*A couple of notes- Lester is now speaking in rhyme (thanks to the touch of Spukoni), and Thrush and Sybele quietly announced their forthcoming wedding.  Astute readers may have noticed a mysterious conversation between Thrush and God-King Malford back  here; that was when Thrush asked Malford to be his best man…. J


_*Next Time:*_ Into Darkhold, after Felenga!


----------



## Technik4

bump...bump....bump.....BUMP!


----------



## the Jester

_Just a teaser..._

Felenga, the Dark One, is already within Darkhold.

Darkhold, the one place- the _only_ place- to survive the waking of Felenga's dread master.  His dread master, now bound- _again_- in eternal slumber.

Well, Felenga plans to be the one that wakes him up this time.  Before, in the previous world- the _real_ world, of which this "Cydra" is but a pale reflection spat out by Darkhold's Master- Felenga's dread master, Tharizdun, had been bound in the primordeal aeons; and when the villain Fuligin had managed to begin the Waking, all creation quaked with fear.  When Tharizdun fully awoke, it devoured Nature itself.  All was annihilated; all ended.

Only the Angels of the Apocalypse survived, Tharizdun's creatures, empowered beyond mortal comprehension by their dread lord's merest notice.  Including, of course, both Fuligin and Felenga himself.

When Nature was devoured, Darkhold survived.  With his vast intellect enhanced by Tharizdun's blazing mind, Felenga knew instantly how: it was not of nature at all, not a piece of any plane; it was a realm unto itself.  But a realm now with no connection to anywhere; a realm cut off from the nothing that remained after Tharizdun's ravening power destroyed the multiverse.

It should have ended there; there should have been no contact again, but...

Somehow.

Somehow the cursed adventurers managed to engineer a new birth of nature, a new genesis.  Somehow they turned Darkhold's weak simulation of nature into the real thing.  They _made themselves real._  The damned adventurers got the necessary tools from right underneath the noses of the Angels of the Apocalypse and managed to- _somehow-_ birth a new Nature.  The Master of Darkhold created some sort of artifact to stabilize the vital force that keeps everything balanced carefully, and their reality hasn't fallen apart or broken down yet, much to Felenga's frustration.  

And only at the birth of Nature could the anti-force called Tharizdun be lulled to sleep, bound in a prison plane somewhere outside the known dimensions, left- _again_- in eternal slumber.

Well, not for long.  Felenga grins to himself.  His key works.  He can get back in and out of Darkhold as needs be.  He can even excercise some limited control- enough to replace some of the guardians he's destroyed on his way in.

And the device that balances things so carefully, so precariously?

_Not for long,_ Felenga promises himself, grinning a skeletal grin and settling back on a comfy bed in the middle of Darkhold.


_*Next Time:*_ We get to the real deal!


----------



## the Jester

It's a familiar journey into Darkhold, but beneath the surface there's a palpable tension, as if the place itself reflects the struggle taking place within as Felenga strives against the Master of Darkhold.  Though our heroes don't know exactly how much influence he can wield over the environment, they do know that Felenga can probably come and go freely.  

Across the hedge the party climbs; across the lawn they rush unopposed.  Across the moat they fly and into the water they plunge, awaiting the flush... but this time it doesn't come.  They have to swim down and up through a U-shaped passage and into a disgusting room full of sewage that they all remember with distaste from their previous visit.

Although they don't know it, the fecal worm guardian of this chamber was destroyed mere hours ago by their adversary.  Unfortunately, here Felenga learned enough to regenerate it and set it against his own enemies, so once again our heroes find themselves contesting against it as it rises with a horrendous wailing from the mounds of excrement around them.

It's met by a volley of spells from the casters (including Drelvin's sword) and a general rush from the warriors, who deal telling blows.  Glantri, the strange creature that Horbin the Holy summoned, rushes onto the cleric and fuses itself with him!  Horbin cries out as positive energy rushes through his body, fuelling him with heroism, and he rushes the monster.  Though the worm gulps down Lester and Thrush, it dies in barely over ten seconds and the two heros are easily retrieved (in fact, Thrush crawls from its mouth on his own).  

Searching turns up a familiar door, concealed behind mounds of the stinking brown waste in the room.  "I hate this room," mutters the L to himself.

With the aid of Malford's _decanter of endless water_, the party cleans up in the hallway outside.  Drelvin flexes his hands clumsily; in the Deleter, he certainly won't be able to fire his bow... It makes him feel extremely self-conscious.

The party is moving with perfect coordination, their minds linked by Garnet.  And as they move down the hall and through the next door, they instantly need it, for here Felenga has set another guardian.  Even as he throws the door confidently open, Thrush's face is illuminated by the sickly flames dancing around the body of the thing within.  There is an instant's pause as the party mentally concludes that none of them have encountered one of these before.

Thrush rushes it.


_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes battle a hellfire golem- which is the last fight before the main event with Felenga himself!


----------



## the Jester

*The Hellfire Golem*

As Thrush rushes the blazing thing before them the solar pulls nocks an _arrow of devil slaying_ and draws the string back.  He recognizes the fire as infernal in nature.  But the first volley of attacks- including Orbius' _magic missiles_- slide off harmlessly, and the huge figure swings a burning fist at Lester, dealing a teling blow, as he moves in to attack.  

Drelvin, hanging back, cries out, "You've been deleted!"  And shouting an obscenity, he points at it.  There's a convulsion around his hands as the glove-like weapon does... something... and a ray shoots out, striking the thing.  There's no visible effect, but Drelvin groans as he feels his life energy depress.*  Telemundo is teleporting quickly around via _Marius' sidestep,_ which allows him to try to _disintegrate_ the monster from a safe spot; but it shrugs the beam off harmlessly.  Nor does Malford's _phantasmal killer_ so much as slow it even for an instant.

Then Angelfire steps up, swinging his falchion with deadly effect, slicing into the hellfire creature to surprisingly great effect.  His grin vanishes into a gape of astonishment when he realizes that the creature's hellfire actually _burns him!_**

Our heroes pour it on, Orbius grimly noting that it seems immune to all their magic.  _If I could get a shot for a cone of cold,_ he thinks grimly, _that might have some effect; but everyone's piling on it up there...!_

The solar's _arrows of slaying_ prove useless; but Horbin, fused with the weird positive planar creature Glantri, manages to deal the creature a blow with his holy mace.  Moreover, Thrush, Lester and Angel, working together, are starting to whittle it down.  But it gestures and a blast of white-hot fire _fooms_ down at Horbin, Lester and Thrush.  The three cry out in pain, recoiling momentarily, and then Horbin seems to _swell_ for a moment.  There seems to be a radiance emanating from beneath his skin, behind his eyes; and then there's a explosion.

Horbin the Holy cries out in a mixture of ecstasy and pain as positive energy floods out of his body, dealing significant damage as it does so.  But the thing is still merged with him, pulsing and gleeful.  And Horbin can feel the frenetic energy building in him again... He staggers a few paces off, trying to contain it.

Meanwhile, Thrush shakes his head, ignoring the sizzle of his armor, and gets ready to charge it.  Before he can, however, Angelfire's falchion finishes the job- a series of heavy chops brings the thing crashing down.

A quick search of the room turns up no sign of Felenga, but then, as they open the  door across the hall, our heroes meet the Master of Darkhold.  Dressed all in black, with dark brooding eyes, he appears human, but who can say what he is?  Darkhold is not what it appears either.

And now the battle with Felenga is just around the corner...


*In other words, he gained a negative level.

**Just as a reminder, Angel has the fire subtype.


_*Next Time:*_ The party vs. Felenga!!


----------



## the Jester

*The Party Vs. Felenga!*

“He _is_ a threat,” the Master of Darkhold confirms.  “He’s constructed a key that lets him get in and out of Darkhold at will and gives him a limited amount of control over certain aspects of the environment, time, etc.”  He frowns.  “I can oppose him, but it is a matter of measure, then countermeasure, then a counter for that or a new measure, and so forth.  It would not do to underestimate him.”  His face looks fleetingly pained.  “I learned that to my sorrow with Fuligin.* “

The Master continues, explaining what he thinks Felenga’s goal is.  “There is a very delicate device that ensures that things stay in balance,” he says.  “I believe that Felenga wants to destabilize it.”

“What ‘things’ does it keep in balance?” asks Horbin.

“For you, everything,” the Master replies flatly.  “It helps maintain your reality.”

So they guard the approach to the chamber housing the device that Felenga is presumably after.  They wait uneasily; Drelvin’s hands itch beneath the Deleter.  Nervously, they buff up as much as they can; and then it’s just a waiting game.  They know which direction Felenga will be coming from; so Malford lays a _mind fog_ down.

And soon the game is over.

”I hear something!” Thrush announces harshly, whipping out his greatsword and moving across the hall, eyes scanning intently for signs of movement in the fog.  Orbius casts _mass haste_ and the whole group starts activating all their short-duration spells, from _fire shield_ to _blink_-

Then Felenga dispels the fog, encloses Horbin the Holy in a _forcecage_ and blasts the solar with _seeker missiles_.  Orbius instantly fires a volley of seekers back at the deadly lich, but they are absorbed into his _shield._  The Eye follows this up with a _lower resistance_.  Telemundo, meanwhile, _disintegrates_ the _forcecage._

There’s movement everywhere as the air elemental swoops in to grapple Felenga!  Lester moves in, Felix Optima Maxima coming out of her sheath as he approaches.  Spells are arcing at the dreaded lich from the party, the solar- a _sunbeam_ blazes into him, and the smell of scorched flesh rises from his sizzling form!  

“Rragh!”  Felenga throws the elemental off and fires a quickened _finger of death_ at the solar, destroying it.  Then he whirls to face Lester and Thrush, who are rushing at him.  As he starts to cast another spell, Drelvin makes his move.

“Your part in this play has been written out!” the archer cries, gesturing with the Deleter.  The weapon from the Far Realms convulses around his hands and a jagged streak of light _zots_ into Felenga.

The effects are remarkable.  Felenga screams in horrible pain and outrage as much of his power leaves him.  _He’s been cut off from the Dread Lord!_  Staggering, he stares wildly at Drelvin.

_These... these petty annoyances,_ thinks Felenga in amazement.  _I am undone by such as _these??

Then a massive blade smacks Felenga from the side, staggering him.  Another from the other side, as Angelfire tumbles in to flank!  Then there’s an explosion of positive energy as Glantri and Horbin surge out of control, and the energy burns Felenga intensely.  Dazzled, hurt worse than- than _ever before_- the lich prepares to cast a spell, but he doesn’t have time.  Horbin’s _mass heal_ deals a devastating amount of damage to Felenga, and he vanishes in a shudder as his _contingency_ goes off.

“Here!” Malford cries, handing Orbius a scroll of _Follow Sorcery’s Trail_.  The Eye reads it off and leads the party after Felenga.  

Soon the trail leads back to the bedchamber they met the Master of Darkhold at, but there’s no Felenga there.  The bed does show signs of recent use, however...

“We’ve been tricked!” Telemundo cries.

_The device,_ Malford thinks sickly.  




*The Master’s son was killed long ago by Fuligin in a confrontation within Darkhold, though none of the pcs in the story know it.


*Next Time:* The in-game justification for the change to the 3.5 rules!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

You know, when a solar dies in combat, you know you've made the big leagues.


----------



## the Jester

He may be an old man, but Telemundo can _move_ when he has to.

A lot of this is because of the fact that he's got _Marius' sidestep_ already in effect.  In any event, he vanishes from the party's location and reappears thirty feet from the door to the vital room.  And there's Felenga, at the door.   The old sorcerer unfurls a scroll and his voice shakes as he reads it off- _I'm _alone_ against him!_ he thinks wildly.  Then the _horrid wilting_ from the scroll scorches out, blasting at Felenga- 

No effect.*

And the Dark One returns the favor with a quickened _horrid wilting_ at Telemundo, surely more than enough to destroy him- except he _sidesteps_ away, saving his life.  Shaking, further away down the hall, Telemundo casts _Marius' sidestep_ again- the quick-save expended his previous one.  He dreads returning to face Felenga, but- 

He hears a loud blasting sound, and knows in his heart that Felenga's got that damned door _open._  Suddenly things are even _more_ critical.

Lester flashes past him, bat-wings beating furiously.  He swings Felix Optima Maxima, under the effects of Orbius' _far strike_ spell as soon as he rounds the corner and can see the lich, but it glances harmlessly from Felenga's magical protections.  A quickened _searing light_ shines out from the L's outstretched hand, burning into Felenga's shoulder.  With a sneer the arch-lich shrugs it off. 

And he's already got the door _open._  Beyond it, there's something huge, but Lester doesn't have time to take it in.  The rest of the group appears, carried by the Eye's teleportation magic, and Malford casts _true strike_ and then uses a _limited wish_ to mime a _dimensional anchor_ on Felenga.  This time he succeeds!  The air elemental moves in, grabbing the lich, and Angelfire springs forward to attack; and Telemundo reappears and starts firing heedless _disintegrates_ at Felenga.  

The lich roars in anger, and escapes the grapple with a double extended, quickened _ghostform_.  Laughing evilly, he moves into the room.  Behind him, a huge device seems to balance the entire universe on its gears and fulcrums.  Some huge chunk of nature that strongly resembles a moon that he helped destroy in the prior universe is in there, too- probably millions of tons of rock- it's _huge._  But there's no time for that now!  Felenga's in there, the clock's run out, it's now or never!

The dreaded arch lich turns to the device and raises his arms.  The rust monster tentacles that writhe from his shoulders spasm gleefully.  He hurls his ghostly form half into the device and turns to face the party.  Will they dare attack him now, with his very form half within the device they're guarding?

Drelvin the archer, wearing the Deleter, cries in a firm voice, "You are a mistake and I am here to correct you!"  The blast from the weird glove-like device arcs out and hits Felenga square in the back.  The lich gives a horrible scream and, to the party's amazement, the tentacles start to shrivel and turn to ash!  So too his horn; they shrink and draw back into his forehead!  _Whatever it's doing to him, it's working,_ Drelvin thinks grimly.  His throat is tight; the Deleter is taking its toll on him as well.  

Malford flies forward as Felenga reels, and the gnome king yells out, "I just wanted you to see the face of the gnome who organized your downfall!"  -And he casts _antimagic field._  Felenga howls as he's blown out of the device as he becomes corporeal, and his form flies across the room to land, motionless, on the ground in a smoking heap.  The lights in the room flicker and dim.

Dead.  

At least, his body is...

As the _antimagic field_ intersects the great device, all of our heroes feel their stomachs plummet.  Something feels... weird... wrong... different...

Malford immediately dismisses the _antimagic field_ once Felenga's demise has been confirmed, and the lights in the room steady.  

"It's not over," Orbius states.  "We still have to get his phylactery."

"Hopefully we've weakened him significantly," says Drelvin, just as the Master of Darkhold hurries in.  He rushes to the device and examines it carefully.  

"What happened?"  His face is expressionless as he turns to the party.  Does he glance longer at Lester?  Who can say.  Regardless, the party tells the tale, and the Master of Darkhold turns back to the device and spends a few moments making adjustments.  Finally, he walks away from the device with a pensive look on his face.  "There may be... repercussions to your action," he tells Malford, "but I will strive to minimize them."

"I didn't have much choice," Malford says.

The Master of Darkhold takes Drelvin away for a time.  When he returns, the archer is wearing dark gloves, but the Deleter is no longer on his hands.  He's not sure exactly what the Master did to take the damn thing off, and he doesn't even really want to know.  And from how his hands feel, he's afraid to take the gloves off.  The Master returns the Deleter to the group as well, and Telemundo glances over at it lovingly more than once.

The group divides up Felenga's items.  The important divisions are-

Telemundo gets a _ring of protection +4_ and Felenga's _staff +5, ghost touch, mortalbane;_
Lester gets Felenga's _helm of knowing movement,_ which allows the user to use their teleportation magic more often, and gives it to Orbius.  He also takes a _wand of dispel magic_.
Angelfire takes a _wand of fireballs,_ even though he can't use it, and a _Daern's instant fortress._
Maflrod receives a _wand of magic missiles_ and a _ring of earth elemental command._
Thrush ends up with Felenga's _rod of terror._
Horbin gets the _cloak of resistance +5_ that the arch-lich wore.
Finally, Drelvin takes Felenga's _bracers of armor +8._

The group leaves Darkhold to return to Var and plan their attempt to obtain the phylactery...


*Living targets only, alas.


_*Next Time:*_ After the phylactery!


----------



## the Jester

*Aftershocks*

Back in Var, at his temple, Horbin _communes._

*Are the Bile Lords actively trying to kill us?* Yes.
*Where are they planning to attack us next?*  Yes or no.

_Huh?_ thinks Horbin.  _That doesn’t make much sense._

*When?*  Yes or no.
*Who would be good allies for us to seek against the Bile Lords?*  Yes or no.

_Crap,_ Horbin the Holy thinks.

*Has the change from Bile Mountain to Mount Angelfire been noticed by far folk of human or demihuman race?* Yes.
*By anyone at least as powerful as the party?* Yes.
*Is Felenga’s phylactery on the plane on which he was killed?* Unknown.
*Are people who’ve noticed the change in Bile Mountain seeking us?* No.
*Are the Bile Lords still in Angelfire Mountain?* Yes and no.
*Does that mean that some are and some aren’t?* Yes.
*Are the ones not there actively seeking to do us harm?* Yes.
*Are there more than one?* No.
*Are they afraid of us?* Yes.
*Do any of them possess qualities that they particularly fear?* Yes.
*Is it a good party member?* No.
*Do they fear the Deleter?* No.
*Are they aware that we have the Deleter?* No.
*Are they afraid of evil party members?* Yes.

_Hmph!  This despite the fact that I dealt the death blow to the Bile Lord that we already destroyed!_  Horbin snorts to himself.  Then he reports to the rest of the party.  “_Commune_ in only giving me yes or no answers now,” he says worriedly.  

“I wonder how far-reaching the effects of the _antimagic field_ on the device will be,” the Eye muses.  

Malford shrugs.  “I did what I had to.  Felenga was ready to act- he was there.  That was the only sure way to render him impotent.”  _But I wonder, too,_ he thinks.

Telemundo, meanwhile, seeks out Arion the Archmage at his tower.  Surprisingly, Arion answers almost as soon as Telemundo knocks, but the conversation goes downhill when Telemundo calls Arion drunk and the Archmage slams the door in his face.  Shrugging to himself, the testy old sorcerer returns to the castle, where the group is plotting their next move.

“We have to move fast to destroy Felenga’s phylactery,” Lester is saying.  “Otherwise he’s back up in a week or so, and we’ve just wasted our best chance to finish him off.”

“But we don’t have even a clue where it is.”  Sybele sighs, cracking her huge knuckles.
So a surgical strike team assembles again, ready to make a raid on the Temple of Elemental Evil in the hopes of 
“We do have a clue,” Orbius answers.  “The Temple of Elemental Evil.  It’s Felenga’s stronghold; it’s our best chance.”

“We don’t know what it looks like, either,” says Horbin.  “But we have to try.”

“We should make another surgical strike, maybe see if we can kill another of the Elemental Princes of Evil, and if we can find any info in the process...”  The L frowns.  “I just wish we knew more about where it was or what is looks like.”

“The Eye of Boccob cannot see this,” Orbius mutters regretfully.  “Its vision is clouded by opposing magic.”

“Let’s get ready and go, as soon as possible,” the L urges again.  “We only have so much time; we dare not squander it.”

“Without a plan, we won’t accomplish anything,” Malford states.

More discussion, and our heroes finally hit upon an idea.  “The nodes!”  Lester exclaims.  “When we brought the Temple low the first time, collapsing the nodes destroyed the whole thing.”

“How do we do that?” Horbin asks.

“There was a skull, the Orb of Golden Death.  We had to destroy it... I remember we had to expose it to extremes of all four elements and stuff.  I don’t know, it’s been a long time and a lot of pipe weed.”  The Elementalist grins.  “But it’s a starting point.”

So a surgical strike team assembles again, ready to make a raid on the Temple of Elemental Evil in the hopes of destroying another Prince or stumbling into a phylactery at random- or at least a clue.

Meanwhile, looking into a crystal smeared with the blood of our heroes, taken from the sites of their battles within Bile Mountain, Tamult the Bile Lord smiles grimly and turns to his powerful servants. [color=CCA477] “Prepare yourselves,”[/color] he hisses.  [color=CCA477]“It’s time.”[/color]


_*Next Time:*_ In the middle of an ambush, our heroes are ambushed!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Double ambushing! It'll be like the Battle Of Koom Valley again! 

So, how did your players find 3.5e? Did they adapt fairly swiftly?


----------



## the Jester

Tallarn said:
			
		

> Double ambushing! It'll be like the Battle Of Koom Valley again!
> 
> So, how did your players find 3.5e? Did they adapt fairly swiftly?




It's still too early to tell.  We've only played one high-level session since we switched (it's been mostly the halfling Of Sound Mind game).  The players decided to try to pick it up with low-level pcs first.

I'm working on the next update right now!


----------



## the Jester

*An Ambush Within An Ambush*

Our heroes teleport in en mass, arriving in the same chamber in which they previously ambushed and killed Imix, the Prince of Evil Elemental Fire.  This time their arrival is immediately met by a quartet of gigantic elementals, one of each type.  Lester’s allied air elemental, reduced in size for teleportation, engages the enemy air elemental.  Lester himself fires off a volley of _antielemental bolts,_ a spell he’d devised over a century ago to do battle with the previous rise of the Temple of Elemental Evil.  Telemundo dodges more nimbly than an old man should, firing a _polar ray_ at the enemy fire elemental even as it joins the attack on Lester’s elemental ally.

_I wish Thrush was here,_ Sybele thinks as she manifests _displacement._  But he’s not; he stayed behind to babysit.  Kids... the future...

She puts it out of her mind as she springs to attack the air elemental, inflicting devastating damage.*

The water elemental that the L targeted with his _bolts_ smashes a huge watery fist at him, but he dodges aside.  So far, the party’s doing well; they’re barely hurt and the enemies are already somewhat weakened.  _And Felenga hasn’t shown up; that’s good.  Probably he’s still stuck in his phylactery, _thinks Lester.  Then he spreads his arms wide and calls on elemental forces, channeling energy to rebuke the elementals!  He feels the forces flow around him and they almost jerk him from his feet as he directs them.  A spasm of energy seems to constrict his chest and for a moment he can’t breathe due to the sheer power of the elements.  But as much as he can direct is not enough to overcome the powerful elementals before the party.  Cursing to himself, the L pulls Felix Optima Maxima from her sheath.

Angelfire is hacking at the fire elemental with brutal efficiency.  It’s gradually dimming from white-hot to a mellower yellow.  There’s a sneer on the Coilite’s scarlet-skinned face; he does not fear a thing of _fire!_  The air elemental that aids the group whips into his flaming adversary from the side, pummeling it mercilessly.  It dances to a low red color.  Finally, as a ray of deadly cold shoots into it, the thing flickers and goes out.

Then there’s a soft _whump_ as Tamult the Bile Lord and his two lackeys appear from nowhere, joining the fight to our heroes’ dismay.

Tamult looks greatly like Chemnu, the other Bile Lord the party battled; and though his features are notable different, it’s clear he’s of the same kind.  He stands ten feet tall, withered with age; his skin is yellow and drips disgusting yellow bile like sweat.  A few small patches of hair remain on his head.  He’s skinny to the point of gauntness, and just as Chemnu was, he’s surrounded by a cloud of noxious yellow gas at all times.  Even as he appears, the party feels the wrath of his _chain lightning._

His two freakish companions send chills down the party’s spines.

The first is plainly an illithid; though our heroes don’t know it, he is Master Grullbilosk.  He, too, drips with bile, a nasty stench emanating from him.  His tentacles writhe in endless pain as he stairs at the group, and he slowly raises what appears to be a lantern with a brain inside it.

The other is plainly undead, also dripping with bile; but it’s of a strange, elephant-like humanoid race with a bifurcated trunk.  A few slabs of flesh remain on it, hanging in ragged strands, the bile falling from them; but there are many places where bone is visible on its grotesque frame.  A cold, hateful light burns in its hollow eyes.  It casts a spell as our heroes realize in horror that it's a lich.

And all hell breaks loose....  


_*Next Time:*_ Well, that’s pretty obvious, innit?? 



*78 points of damage in one round.  Ouch.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Did the words "Bwaahahahahah!" spring to your lips at any point during all this?


----------



## the Jester

*Ambush Within an Ambush!*

The loxo lich’s spell _zarks_ out, catching most of the party in a _chain lightning!_  Then, before anyone else can react, Orbius, the Eye of Boccob, pulls the serious guns out and casts _time stop._  To everyone else, it seems as if there’s an explosion of color, a _puncture,_ and a _maze_, taking the enemy earth elemental out of the fight, at least for a while.  His _lower resistance_ at the Bile Lord goes unseen but fails to penetrate Tamult’s resistance itself. 

Telemundo acts boldly, casting _finger of death_ at the illithid.  The creature hisses in pain as it staggers back, clutches for a moment at its chest, and then falls!  “First blood!” the aged sorcerer shouts gleefully, turning towards the Bile Lord.

Angelfire smiles grimly, concentrating on de-grafting his falchion from his hand.  _A Bile Lord!  I guess it’s time..._  He pulls forth the Deleter, tingling with both anticipation and dread.  The Deleter itself feels an unholy greedy lust at this point, but that’s another story.

The battle rages!  The L and his allied elemental attack the Temple’s evil air elemental as Horbin the Holy casts a _feeblemind_ at the Bile Lord, to no effect.  In return, Tamult the Bile Lord fires an eerie ray of _disintegration_ at Horbin, which the cleric manages to survive.  Nobody really wants to engage Tamult at close range; they remember how nauseous the cloud of bile vapor made them when they fought Chemnu.  More _disintegration_ beams shoot through the air from Telemundo and the loxo lich, and then Tamult fires another one himself, this time at Telemundo- and in a burst of light, the sorcerer is gone!  An _acidball_* explodes within the group from the lich, and the sizzling green liquid brings a chorus of screams from our heroes.  

“We’ve got to finish these guys fast!” Lester cries, and he casts a spell he created himself years ago to oppose the Temple of Elemental Evil: _Lester’s antielemental bolts._  Bolts of earth-powered energy fire out at the party’s air elemental adversary, counteracting it, dealing it great damage!  There’s a howling sound, like a hurricane tearing the ground apart, and the elemental dies.  

Angel gingerly inserts his hands into the Deleter.  It feels _organic_- as he pulls the glove-like thing over his hands, he can feel it settling in around him, pressing in.  There’s a definite pressure on his fingers... With a grin he points at Tamult.

There’s a purple crackling bolt that blasts from Angelfire, almost knocking him from his feet, and into Tamult.  The Bile Lord turns with a cry, his gaze settling on Angelfire with almost physical force.  The scarlet Coilite grins.  

“Bring it!” he crows.

Then Lester’s elemental ally swoops in, smashing into Tamult.  The Bile Lord struggles for a moment, but he’s grappled! 

“Here you go!” cries Horbin.  “This is for Telemendo!”  Full of anger and sorrow, the holy man casts a spell of _destruction_ at the grappled Bile Lord- and, to everyone’s surprise, it succeeds.**  Tamult gives a terrible, high-pitched scream, and then he withers to blackened bones and ash in mere seconds!

_“Ahh, thank you!”_ the dire loxo lich cries.  _“You have freed me, to resolve my own problems!”_  With that, he _teleports_ away and the fight’s over.  Our heroes, shaken by the assault and the loss of Telemundo, debate leaving for a moment.

“No way!” declares Lester.  “We’re still in good shape, we have most of our spells still, let’s go kick some butt and do a little damage while we’re here.”

“Sure, why not,” says Sybele, easily persuaded as always.

“Let’s wait for the _mazed_ elemental to return and kill it, then see if we can take and question a prisoner,” Orbius suggests....


*Which is to say, a _fireball_ modified with the Energy Substitution (acid) feat. 

**Natural one on the save after Horbin rolled well enough to penetrate his SR.  Curses.  Horbin’s had more instant-kills, I swear. 


_*Next Time:*_ Sybele’s idea of how to deal with prisoners!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Don't you just high level combat...I'm getting towards that stage myself with my 12th level fighter...so I utterly understand how lethal things are getting aruond here.

Although 78 points in one round isn't that hard when you're power attacking and do 1d8+28 each time you hit.


----------



## the Jester

*Sybele's Interrogation Technique*

WARNING: Mature (er, well maybe immature) content enclosed.  Don’t look if you’re offended by... well, if you’re easily offended.

The party waits for the _mazed_ elemental to return.  Suddenly, a troll walks partway into the room.  It notices the party and grunts in surprise, stopping.  Its slow brain gradually interprets the threat facing it, but by the time it’s really comprehended the fact that a band of adventurers are in front of it, Angelfire’s hit it with a _mind blast_.  Groaning, the stupid creature slumps down to the ground drooling.  

Our heroes aren’t too concerned that the troll might be a threat; indeed, it seems likely that they could give it a couple of free rounds and take it down blindfolded.  They keep it covered with weapons while the large archer Sybele starts questioning it.*

“So where does Felenga hang out?” she asks sweetly, placing her hand on the troll’s thigh.  

“Uh?” it grunts back.  “Er, me no know.”  It squirms, watching the array of weapons pointed in its general direction by the rest of the group.

“Well, let’s put it this way,” Sybele says.  “If you help us, we’ll let you go.  If you don’t, we’ll kill you.”  She’s running her hand up and down the confused troll’s leg, and he’s clearly becoming aroused.  Horbin walks away, a little disturbed and strangely reminded of a certain whale he knew long ago.  Sybele continues her interrogation, playing with the helpless- and by now, completely confused- troll’s thingie** while she coos at it for information.

Soon enough, the party learn that the main villains of the place other than Felenga seem to be a group of individuals called the Triad.  The troll is both stupid and ignorant, but it knows that their main headquarters is not actually in the Temple of Elemental Evil; it’s actually at a place called Crater Ridge, in an abandoned mining complex.

“What about the troll?” asks Lester.

“He helped us out.  Let’s let him go,” Sybele says.

“He’ll let others know we’re here,” Orbius points out.

“They probably already know, and if not they will soon,” Sybele answers, which Orbius has to admit is probably true.  So they let the troll escape, Sybele first warning him not to mess with them again.  

The troll- his name is Luubrig- shambles out of the central chamber the party is within, and off to one of the cleared chambers.  A few dirty hill giants are in there, but he doesn’t care.  He roars at one that sits on his pile of gravel and it grunts and moves over for him.  Luubrig throws himself down into his pile and rubs his body against it, agitated, aroused and confused.  He can’t shaked the image of the big human from his mind.  

_Luubrig want her,_ the troll thinks to himself.  _Luubrig must have!_  But he knows that with her companions, they are too much for him.  _They hurt poor head,_ Luubrig groans inwardly.  _Head weak.  Body strong, but head weak.  And they know fire, the red one like fire!  Bad, bad!

Must get her alone._

***

Meanwhile, the elemental returns from its _maze_ and is easily dispatched, though it smashes Sybele with an awesome blow.  Our heroes debate their next move.  

“We’re in the wrong place,” Lester opines.  “We should check out this Crater Ridge Mine place.”

“Hey, I’ve been there,” Horbin exclaims.***   “I once infiltrated that place!  There were a lot of arrow slits.” 

“Well, in any event, we’re in the wrong place right now, right?” says the L.  “So let’s go back to Var and do some more divinations and stuff.  Maybe we can narrow down the search.”

Our heroes depart.  Moments later, a lovesick troll sniffs into the room.  He looks around mournfully for any sign of his beloved.  All he can find are a few sprays of her blood.  Ahh, the smell!  Ahh, the taste!  He laps it up with his rough black tongue, aroused again.  He will have her.  He _will._  She wants him, he knows it. 



*Remember, Thrush is babysitting the kids back at the castle.

**That’s right, its thingie.  You know what I’m talking about.

***From just before my old story hour.  The initial post of that thread mentions some of this as back story.


_*Next  Time:*_ Jezebel’s in trouble!


----------



## the Jester

Here's a fun little game!  See if you can match the pcs!  Each of the two columns here consists of pcs from my story hours.  See if you can figure out which were played by the same players!  For instance, if you think that Horbin and Clambake were played by the same player (they aren't), you'd choose 1A!

I'll post the answers after a while here... 

1 Horbin
2 Alcar
3 Malford
4 Sybele
5 Brother He
6 Zeebo

A Clambake
B Angelfire
C Sandy
D Airhead Ed
E Sheva
F Drelvin


----------



## the Jester

*Jezebel's Rescue*

Horbin and Orbius are sitting together in a reading room in Malford’s castle.

“I really need to contact Marius,” Horbin mutters.  “He still has Till.*”

“Well, I was going to send a _sending_ to Jezebel,” Orbius says.  “Maybe she can help us negotiate with him.”

“It’s worth a try, I suppose,” Horbin answers glumly.  Marius hasn’t been entirely forthcoming about Till’s circumstances.  In fact, he’s been quite close-mouthed and refused to divulge much of anything.  

So Orbius sends a _sending_ to Jezebel, but the reply he gets doesn’t really have much to do with anything he sends to her.  

_Help!  Caught by githyanki, don’t tell Marius, he’ll be furious!  Please rescue me, I’ll do anything for you!_

“Crap,” Orbius moans.  “She’s in trouble.  We have to rescue her.”

“What about Marius?” Horbin asks impatiently, and Orbius explains the situation.  The cleric’s face falls, but he agrees to help the Eye rescue her.  The divine oracle casts _gate_, and the two of them look through it into an astral cell.  Jezebel sits calmly on a seat.  She looks older than when last they saw her, just weeks ago.**  When she sees the _gate_ open, she smiles and rises.  But when she steps to the _gate,_ she finds that she cannot pass through it!

“Don’t worry.”  Horbin the Holy steps through, takes care of the wards and _dimension lock_ with an area dispel, and together he and Jezebel step back through the _gate_ and back to Var.

“What happened?  How did you get captured?” Orbius asks.  There is worry in his voice.  

“Oh, I got myself into trouble with the githyanki,” she says.  “But thank you so much for rescuing me!”  She throws her arms around Orbius and gives him a long, tight squeeze.  He finds it almost uncomfortably pleasant.

Horbin leaves the two of them alone, brooding about Till.  He has to do something about that, and soon.  He’s shirked that responsibility too long.  

Orbius and Jezebel, left alone, talk long into the night.  Then, at some point, the kissing finally starts.  She starts it; he’s not sure she’s old enough (and after all, how old is she really?  How can you tell when the timeflow changes all the time around you?  How many years has she experienced, under how many calendars?  Even she probably doesn’t know), so he keeps it as restrained as he can, but...

In the morning, Orbius, the Eye of Boccob, heads into town to commission a wedding ring.


*Horbin’s shield-bearer of old.
**Because she’s been in areas of faster time passage with Marius the Chronomancer, natch.


_*Next Time:*_ The search for Felenga’s phylactery continues!


----------



## the Jester

*Swelling the Ranks*

Armed with the precious little knowledge he has of Felenga’s familiar, Orbius casts a _vision_ and sees a cartoonish image of a hand scrambling across some sort of span surrounded by roiling darkness.  He tries to determine more about the location; surely the Dark One’s familiar is near his phylactery!  

A series of frustrating scrying attempts and divinations gives our heroes a few clues; not much to go on, but enough for the Eye of Boccob.  Orbius announces to the group that the entrance to whatever place Felenga’s familiar is at can only be found through the Bleak Academy, also called the Black Academy.

The Bleak Academy... it’s almost a legend.  It’s where the strange necromancers called Pale Masters learn their weird skills.  Tales of forbidden experiments, black magic, undead walking the streets, even human sacrifice- who would give such things credence?  But this is Dorhaus, long overrun by evil, where all life that was not evil was destroyed.  How easy would it be for such a corrupt society to spring up like a boil in the hidden places of the wracked continent?

“Hey,” Lester exclaims, “that’s where that hunter of the dead we were trying to recruit was!”

“That’s right!  Well, maybe we’ll have better luck this time, since we’re going where he already is,” says Malford.  

“Patyn.  In the morning,” Orbius states, “I’ll send him a _sending_, then, if he’s amenable, scry him out and teleport to him.  We can either all go to him or bring him back to us, depending on circumstances.”

“Maybe he has other allies as well,” Lester muses.  “We could certainly use some, if we’re going to go attack some kind of necromancer academy.  In fact, I think I’ll head down to the bar first thing in the morning- only truly hardened adventurers start their drinking at 9!  Well, and the town drunks, but I can tell the difference.”

So it is that, in the morning, the L heads down the hill and into the town, seeking worthy adventurers.  Angelfire joins him; though philosophically they couldn’t be further apart, they share the bond of the adventuring party.  As the two of them leave, Lester’s cohort sends his message to the hunter of the dead, asking to join him.  The response is disheartening.

“He says,” Orbius related glumly to Malford, “that the rest of his companions are dead, and that he could use all the help he can get.” 

The Eye scries out the hunter of the dead, then Orbius and Drelvin _greater teleport_ to him.  He’s on a little raised area of land in a marsh.  The air is heavy with moisture; mosquitoes buzz in the air.  A single tent is pitched nearby; a bird of some sort is roasting on a spit, over a modest fire.  Patyn, a thin man in an emerald tabard, raises his head and stares sharply at our heroes as they arrive.  He lifts a hand and seems to be concentrating in their direction for a moment- _checking to see if we’re undead,_ thinks Malford- and then visibly relaxes.

“I am Orbius,” the Eye proclaims.  “We spoke via _sending_ earlier...”

Patyn nods grimly.  “Yes.  I am glad for your aid...”  He frowns.  His eyes glisten for just a moment.  “My other companions are all dead.  I am the last.”  Through gritted teeth, he growls, “The Black Academy must fall!”

Patyn relates his tale of woe.  Even the approach to the place was deadly.  Beneath the peat, in the boggy mix of rotting vegetation and muck and water, lurk undead.  They dragged one of Patyn’s companions to his doom.  The other took to the air.  “Our wizard and cleric reported that ethereal assaults were guarded against by demons- too many, they said, to even consider an assault that way.”  Patyn continues his story, telling how he and his companions made several attacks on the Black Academy and found that it’s surrounded by a small city of evil!  They fought their way in more than once, even to the steps of the Academy, but a barrage of death magic and undead was too much for them to penetrate.  “There are powerful necromancers and hordes of undead in there,” he reports grimly.  

Retreating to what they thought was a safe distance, Patyn’s group found themselves horrified upon waking in the morning.  Their middle watchman had been murdered, while on watch, without making enough noise to wake anyone else!

Things went downhill from there.  Now only Patyn’s left.  “And some of my friends may have become undead themselves,” the hunter of the dead groans.

Malford and Drelvin exchange a worried look, then ‘port back to Var with their new ally.  “Come have a _real_ breakfast,” Drelvin offers.  

Angelfire and Lester, meanwhile, have found pretty much exactly what they’re looking for: a pair of tough adventurers.  One of them is cloaked and hooded at first, but seems enamored of the L’s bat wings.  After a few minutes of conversation, the figure casts off its robe to reveal a draconian looking form and wings of its own!  “I’m Rex,” the dragon disciple says, and he shakes hands with Angelfire and the L.

The other of their new companions appears at first to be a female elf, but soon shows her delight in changing into a cheetah.  She tells our heroes that she is a master of her shape, and can turn into nearly anything.  Her name, she tells them, is Ulla.  

Their ranks swollen, our heroes return to King Malford’s castle after finishing their drinks.  They find Malford, Orbius, Drelvin and Patyn eating in the main dining hall.  As the sinister-looking group full of dragon and bat wings and scarlet skin enters, Patyn raises his hand to examine them.  

His face darkens.  He stands up and walks out to Angelfire.

”You,” he states flatly, “are _evil._”



_*Next Time:*_ Uh-oh!  Will Patyn and Angelfire get along?  What will Orbius summon to help the group?  How will our heroes attack?  Beware- a dozen demons!


----------



## the Jester

*Ethereal Assault*

Malford grimaces as Patyn, hunter of the dead, squares off against Angelfire.  There are no weapons drawn yet, but Patyn looks ready to fight.  His words- “You are _evil_”- hang in the air.  Angelfire’s thoughts immediately flash back to Alcar, the angel of food, and _his_ challenge on the same grounds.  Servants of Good- will they never learn?

“I serve Coila,” the scarlet-skinned man answers.  “I have no quarrel with you, but my loyalty is immutable.”  His eyes smolder and his lip quirks in a half-smile.  “I travel with a cleric of your god, Galadorian.  We work together.  And surely the need to destroy Felenga, one of the most powerful undead ever, outweighs any... differences we might have.”

“And there will be no fighting in my home,” Malford snaps.  

The tension stretches for a moment.  Then Patyn growls, “Very well, then, Coilite.  I’ll tell you what.  Vow not to turn on me so long as we work together and I’ll do the same.”  He glares at Angel.  “Your goddess is Lawful.  I will take your word, and to destroy the Academy, I’ll take your aid.”

“And you’ll help us destroy Felenga’s phylactery?” Angelfire presses.

“It sounds as if that will be half the battle in my quest anyway.”  Patyn sneers.  “Phylacteries!  Bah!  Too bad I wasn’t with you before.  When I kill undead, I kill them dead.  They don’t come back from _my_ blows!  I kill them _dead!!_”  Spittle flies from his mouth.  He leans back, breathing hard and fingering his holy symbol.  Seems we’ve got a bit of a fanatic here, folks.

Oaths are exchanged and everyone sits down.  Ulla and Rex, the two new companions Lester and Angelfire managed to find, are a little wary; they’re in the king’s presence- some even style him a god- and there’s clearly some level of dissension in the group.  Everyone’s heard of some of the people here- _Malford and Lester themselves, who’d have thought that we’d meet up with them!_ thinks Rex- and if high adventure has a definition, they’re it.  From the clockwork horror invasion to Fuligin’s victory and defeat, these folks are heroes of legend!

The group discusses strategy.  Patyn tells them that there’s an entire city of necromancers and undead that’s grown up around the Bleak Academy, or Black Academy, as it is also called.  He repeats what he told them before- that there are tons of evil spellcasters and undead.  “Giants, too- the biggest I’ve ever seen,” he reports grimly.  And, of course, extraplanar incursions were discouraged by a horde of demon guardians.

“I still think an ethereal assault is our best bet,” Malford opines.  “A city of necromancers or a few demons.  How many could there be?”

“Our cleric and wizard thought it would be prohibitively difficult to assault that way,” Patyn answers, and Malford leans back and frowns. 

“Well,” Orbius offers, “there’s always a solar.  That would probably even the odds against us considerably.”

“I’m all for using the ether,” agrees Lester.  “Let’s kill some demons!”

Within a few hours everyone’s bathed and dressed for battle.  The Eye has summoned a gorgeous angel named Azekia, who’s agreed to help them for two weeks or until Felenga’s phylactery is destroyed.  Angelfire tries to buddy up to her, but she clearly perceives his aura of evil and frowns at him.  He tries showing her some of his trophies, but he pulls out a few of Alcar’s feathers and she fixes him with a steely gaze and points an accusing finger at him.

“Hey, he started it,” Angelfire smirks.

Then they’re off, Orbius teleporting them to a location near the Academy and then the group going ethereal.  Their surroundings change, becoming misty analogies of the material plane.  Some things are gone, some slightly different, some almost exactly the same- but all of them are made of colored wisps of mist.  The group starts moving forward, in the direction of the Academy, passing wispy mounds and tree-like shapes to either side.  The ethereal matter swirls around them as they float through it, and then-

_Ahead,_ Orbius warns over their telepathic bond.  _Demons!_

And indeed, looming ahead are a trio of horrible monsters- huge dog-like heads atop a massive torso.  Two man-like arms emerge from the creature’s body, but so too does a pair of deadly pincers.  More start moving into visibility through the mist, closing in on the party.  Even as the solar _dismisses_ two of them, the rest of the party starts maneuvering for good combat positioning.  The glabrezu, meanwhile, are moving in and some are initiating _mirror images_.  With a gigantic bellow, two of the demons closes on the solar and start battling it!  Another engages Patyn, who responds with his blade, slicing through one of its images.  More demons are arriving- and now they’re starting to _teleport_ across the battlefield, one appearing right next to Drelvin!

Patyn charges and smites, landing a smashing blow on one of the glabrezu.  The creature roars and slashes back, dealing punishing damage to the hunter of the dead.  Rex and another of the demons wheel across the sky, natural weapons slashing at each other.  Blood is flying all over.  Ulla’s form melts and twists, and suddenly she’s become a stone golem!  Her massive fist smashes into one of the demons, snapping its head back and letting a spray of blood flow from the doggie snout.  The demon growls, but then she smashes it again, and this time her blow is so strong that its guts fly from its mouth!  It stops moving, slain!

Malford and Drelvin are double-teaming the demon that teleported in on the archer.  With his extraordinary skill, Drelvin calmly plugs the demon with arrow after arrow even at point blank range and still manages to avoid giving it an opening!*  Malford’s combination of his sun blade and Memory, two weapons of surpassing puissance, finish the evil beast, and then the god-king moves in on another.  

Then, emerging from the mist, a horrible beauty comes forth.  Think Britney Spears with six arms and a long serpentine body.  She’s armed with more swords than you can shake a stick at and otherwise naked.  More glabrezu are still coming, too!  There must be half a dozen or more even after the ones that have already been slain or dismissed...  

*i.e. Order of the Bow Initiate close combat shot ability (or whatever it’s called)- no AoO provoked by bow fire!  



_*Next Time:*_ The Battle of the Dozen Demons!


----------



## the Jester

*The Battle of a Dozen Demons*

_Somewhere, a spirit wanders through a plane of dead black.  Negative energy roils around it.  If it were alive, its life energy would have been snuffed out long ago, sucked away greedily by the ebon cold of the environment.  

There is almost nothing here, in the entire plane.

A thousand years ago the spirit felt a flake of ash fall across it, and two hundred years before that there was a momentary encounter with a crust of salt- the absence of water.  But since then, nothing has caught the spirit’s immaterial eye; at least, nothing here.  

There are always intruders in the Tomb, of course- every few decades, sometimes even more often.  Most have been grave disappointments; only a few have riddled their way through.  Recently, there have been... supplicants.  The spirit’s thoughts curdle for a moment.  And, of course, that upstart who dared to find his way through the Gap to Power without the intent to finish the course.  Bah!  Well, the spirit’s looked in on _that one_ several times, and in closely watching its activities, the spirit has grown more and more disturbed.  Here is something that might be able to challenge him for supremacy.  Here is something extremely dangerous.  And what dealings has it had with the supplicants?  What is the relationship?

Well, that one has enemies, and from watching them, the spirit thinks they might just be able to finish it off.  And if they can do that, they’ll already be halfway through the Course of Tests, and after all- apotheosis is near._


On the ethereal plane, bubbles of blood float lazily in the non-gravity.  Screams of anger and pain echo through the weird mists of ethereal color.  The sounds of metal clashing on metal, the whiz of arrows, the chanting of spellcasters- all these herald the Battle of a Dozen Demons.

If you’ll recall, the bad guys consist of quite a few glabrezu and a marilith whose upper body looks like Britney Spears.  Naked, though- hey, if you’re hot for Britney and lookin’ for the nudie pics, just fight this marilith, you’ll probably have about six seconds to look- and with a serpentine lower body, she’s meaner than she looks.  Which she promptly demonstrates, charging at the solar accompanying our heroes and trying to encircle it with her scaly tail.  Azekia the solar, angel of Heaven, flexes her wings and flies out of the demon’s coils.  The wrath of god is on her face.  “By the Light, we will destroy you all and send you back to the Abyss from which you came!” the angel thunders, and then speaks a _holy word_ that stuns four of the glabrezu*.  Reeling, they whine like piteous dogs (albeit huge, four-armed, pincer-wielding dogs), clutching at their heads with their human arms.  Unfortunately, Ulla, herself not exactly Good, is caught in the area as well and cannot see!  Shaped as a stone golem, she cries out in confusion.

The singing of Drelvin’s bow is a constant refrain.  Chortling, the whipcord-thin elf destroys one of the glabrezu’s knee, blasting off its lower leg.  A huge spray of blackish-brown, foul-smelling blood joins the ether mists.  The archer turns to another of the glabrezu, continuing his rapid barrage of missiles.  The demon yelps in displeasure, and then  Rex, the party’s new dragon disciple, chops him in the neck with his bare hand!  He use his remarkable unarmed fighting ability to strike, kick and headbutt demon, again and again.  It’s like a rain of limbs on the glabrezu’s head and chest.  The thing staggers, and Malford is suddenly there, stabbing with Memory and the Sun Blade.  

Several of the active glabrezu are swarming the solar, aiding the marilith in her furious, screeching assault.  But Azekia is a powerful force of good, her radiant aura helping her fend them off.  It looks like she might be overwhelmed for an instant; moreover, the rest of the group has suffered an assortment of mounting injuries.  So the solar draws a deep breath, concentrates, and prays to her Lord, Galador.  A _mass heal_ ripples out, and those of our heroes that are within range feel themselves heal and hearty again.  Better still, Ulla’s eyes clear- she can see again!  Taking note of the demons stunned near her, she begins smashing one of them to jelly, and in her golem form she makes short work of it.  And look, there are more stunned ones right nearby...

_Whiz!  Whiz!_  The arrows just keep coming, a constant stream of missiles from Drelvin.  The demon facing Rex and Malford looks like a pincushion- it strikes at Malford but only eliminates some _mirror images_.  Rex and Malford, flanking it, slash, stab, kick and strike it, and finally the huge demon dies!  Then the glabrezu, seeing that they’re losing the fight (several killed, several stunned), change tactics.  One of the great demons rushes Drelvin and grabs him with a huge pincer.  The archer struggles to get free, but the demon gets a good hold on him and laughs enormously.  [color=AA8844]"EAT YOU,"[/color] the demon rumbles in Abyssal, salivating.  Another of the dog-like demons begins grappling with Angelfire, whose muscles bunch as he struggles with it.  It has the worst breath she’s smelled since the brood gibberlings long ago in Firestorm Peak.  Angelfire and the demon struggle back and forth for a moment, and then the scarlet-skinned Coilite breaks free of the pincers.  The demon yells in surprise as Angelfire strikes at it, but it has _mirror images_ up and the templar only destroys a few images.  Then Patyn’s there, charging in and lopping off a pincer.  The monster squeals as more demon blood sprays out.  

The snake-woman snarls in rage, unable to hurt the solar, and teleports immediately next to Rex.  “Whoa!” cries the dragon disciple.  He breathes a line of force at the marilith and immediately tumbles away.  The demon is pummeled by his breath weapon, and though not badly hurt she’s angrier than ever.  Then Azekia’s there again, flying swiftly to engage the demoness, and a heavy blow falls from her blade on the marilith!  The demon unleashes its anger in a full attack on the solar, landing only a single blow- but that one a critical hit!**  The blow cracks into the angel’s side, cracking ribs, but then Azekia cries, “For Galador!” –and strikes back!  Her massive sword slices across the marilith’s snake body twice, then stabs into one of her arms!  Sparks fly as the weapons of the outsiders flash and jangle off each other.  Truly, this is a clash of forces of almost cosmic power.

Drelvin is struggling in the grasp of the demon on him.  It’s pincer is around his neck, trying to pop his head right off- and it feels like it just might work!  But Drelvin’s arms are strong from decades of archery, hours of it every day.  He struggles with it and slowly draws the pincer open like a bow and ducks out from the glabrezu’s grip!  His neck throbs and he can feel torn skin shifting beneath his shirt.  His voice full of gravel, Drelvin coughs, “That’s gonna hurt for days,” and starts firing arrows again, at point blank range, at the demon that held him.  Malford’s moving in to help him, too.  The demon, looking worried, tosses a dispel at the god-king, but doesn’t have any effect.  Then Malford sticks it in the leg and it shrieks, knocked off its feet.

Angelfire raises the Deleter.  Pointing, he unleashes its weird power at the marilith!  A coruscating beam of weird energy jabs out, accompanies by a strange crackling sound, and strikes the demon.  It yowls in anger and pain, sending a sneer at the Coilite.

Who, suddenly, is female.

The negative energy that has been accumulating in him with each use of the Deleter ebbs partially away, but there’s still a bit.  And she’s _female_ again.***   She’s a little dazed by the sudden change and her mind starts sorting the implications.

The marilith teleports away from the immediate battle, badly wounded from her melee with the solar and a little annoyed by whatever _that_ just was, and brings out a potion.  She’s glaring at the accursed Galadorian angel when it points at her and cries out a loud, strong prayer of _banishment_.  With a frustrated cry of rage, the marilith vanishes back to the Abyss.

Ulla looks up from the last stunned demon’s body.  (CRUNCH!  Well, it isn’t stunned any more.)  The battle is thinning out.  She sees Patyn and Azekia double-teaming one of them while Drelvin and Malford finish off the last.  Then there’s a moment for everyone to catch their breaths.  

Breaths caught, onward they go....

*Note that this will only banish creatures if you’re on your own home plane when you use it.  Bummer.

**This was from a vorpal blade, and for an excited moment I thought she’d slain the solar, but you need a natural 20 on the confirmation roll.  Darn.

***Quick backstory element: Angel started as a woman, but changed gender when she was touched by Chaos.  That’s also how she gained the fire subtype.


_*Next Time:*_ The marilith’s boss!


----------



## the Jester

*Prelude to the Tomb of Horrors*

As our heroes proceed forward, a strange figure emerges from the ethereal mists.  Bowing, she calls, “Hold, friends!  Perhaps our paths lead in the same direction.”  She’s gaunt, yellow of skin, with loose grey-white robes around her.  Several members of the party recognize her as a githzerai.

Cautiously, our heroes draw her story from her.  She introduces herself as Verzavi, and she has been waiting for an opportunity to enter this place herself- the demons looked like they’d be too much for her to handle on her own, so she was waiting for the opportunity to slip by them.  She’s somewhat aloof and evasive, but she offers to help the party with their quest (about which they are equally evasive, initially) if they’ll later help her with hers.  

“What do you do?” Malford asks.  “Are you a monk?”

“I am an Arcanopath*,” she says.  “I kill casters.”

“Not all of them, I hope,” Malford laughs.

“All of them that oppose me,” Verzavi responds emotionlessly.

Our heroes advance, finding a heavy concentration of ominous-looking negative energy swirling around in the ether.  There seems to be some sort of globe of ethereal matter that was home to the demons; it’s a good spot to rematerialize, since the negative energy seems to get intense just past that area.  Malford _veils_ the group as a cadre of glabrezu and himself as the marilith, and they return to their own plane.  

They find themselves in a long, wide hallway of earth and stone, lit by thousands of candles.  One side has three large passages leading from it; the other, only a single one.

“What are you doing?  Get back to your posts!  You know what the master will do to you!” calls a gruff voice, and our heroes turn.  

A balor.  

“Uh, I need more slaves.  This fool-“ Malford jabs a finger at the nearest ‘glabrezu’- “ate my human!”  _Someone here has mastered a _balor, Malford thinks grimly.

“Hey, you aren’t demons!” the balor rumbles.  Then it roars, letting out a tremendous bellow, hoping to alert nearby allies, and prepares to summon demonic aid.

***

Alas, though they don’t yet know it, our heroes have also already triggered a silent _alarm_ spell.  Elsewhere, within the Black Academy, Ferranifer, the Mistress of the Academy, snaps her head up.  Her dark sapphire eyes narrow and a sneer walks across her ruby lips.  It’s not often someone is foolish enough to challenge her here, in the center of her web.  Whoever it is will die.  If they’re worth anything, that will be just the start.

Ferranifer calls for the Dim Triad and starts casting her preparatory spells. 

***

Three pairs of eyes open simultaneously to the mental command of their mistress.  Absalom, Blaesing and Harrow emerge in mist form from their coffins and rush to her side.  It will be only a few moments until battle is joined, and the thirst for blood is upon them.

***

Azekia gives a loud shout and flies in to engage the balor.  Her sword sings as she strikes the demon a solid blow.  The rest of the party is starting to move in, including the githzerai- she seems _fast-_ but before anyone else can reach him, Nazzgarr the balor calls for aid from the last of four nalfeshnee brothers that he’s enslaved over the aeons.  There’s a terrible blast of brimstone as the immense creature appears with a roar, a 20’ tall monstrosity that looks like a cross between a boar and an ape.  Its beer gut is covered in rotting shaggy hair, and tiny wings flutter behind it.  Its legs are gangly and bowed.  With a grin, Nazzgarr thrusts his hand at Azekia, and her sword flies from her grasp!  She gasps as it lands over sixty feet from her!  Now laughing, the balor steps towards the solar, bringing out his flame-shaped sword.  The nalfeshnee steps in to flank, a black _unholy aura_ bursting into existence around it.  The demons and the angel start blasting at each other with spell-like abilities, but the demons can’t seem to hurt the solar and the balor keeps shrugging off Azekia’s attempts to finish him off!  Nazzgarr is making as much noise as he can, but suddenly the noise he emits- well, it stops being loud and starts being... silent.  He roars again, frustrated, as Sybele uses her _control sound_ ability to try to stop the monster from attracting any undue attention.  It requires she concentrate on it, but she figures it’s worth a try.

She is, of course, too late.  Something’s coming down a nearby hall.  It is slow, but it will be there soon.**

Our heroes, for the most part, rush to the attack!  There’s a telepathic consensus that they should try to take out the nalfeshnee first and let Azekai deal with the balor.  Orbius tries to get Angelfire to retrieve her sword as he goes by, but he- _she,_ dammit, _she-_ ignores the suggestion, starting to change forms.  Thrush charges the gigantic boar-ape demon.  It bites at him as he comes in, tearing at his shoulder, but he’s tough enough to take it with a grin.  His sword inflicts a tremendous blow on the thing.  Angelfire is still moving in, _polymorphed_ into a troll.  With the Deleter on, he- no, _she_- can’t use her hands in battle.  A bite is better than nothing, though.  Lester blasts the demons with a _horrid wilting_ and both hiss in pain, but it’s clear that the solar is their main target.  Rex blasts the nalfeshnee with a _wand of lance of disruption_, but fails to penetrate its spell resistance.

With a growl, the huge nalfeshnee waves a negligent paw at our heroes, trying to dispel some of their defenses.  To its surprise, it meets total and utter failure.  It frowns, but before it can do much else Thrush unleashes some of that old-fashioned fury he’s so good at.  Even though his weapon doesn’t seem to be able to fully penetrate its defenses, he still inflicts significant damage, carving into its belly, which sprays a thick, honey-like blood full of rotten chunks of fat all over him.  The boar-thing roars and lashes back at him, clawing his forearms badly and biting his shoulder again.  But now Ulla in stone golem form, Payton, Rex and Lester are all piling on it!  Blades and fists fly; bubbling, fatty blood spews forth.  The demon groans in pain.  

Orbius grabs up Azekia’s sword and starts dragging it towards the fight.  “Azekia!” he cries, using his free hand to pull out his trump of Lester.  “I have your blade!”  Angelfire glances back for an instant-

“Orbius, something’s coming out of the passage behind you!” he cries.  

Azekia looks pressed.  She’s flanked by demons and disarmed; but she’s far from helpless.  She pronounces a Power Word at the nalfeshnee, but fails to penetrate its spell resistance!  It lives, despite being badly wounded.  Glaring in Orbius’ direction, the fat demon tries to _feeblemind_ the Eye, but the divine oracle’s tremendous strength of will throws it off.  Nazzgarr, meanwhile, makes a gesture at the solar and tries to _implode_ her.  There’s a rippling in space around her, but her faith in the Light saves her, staving off complete destruction!  The balor turns his destructive power on the approaching Lester, trying- and failing- to _implode_ him as well, then gestures and smashes him away into the wall telekinetically.  

Orbius manages to establish trump contact with the L as he picks himself up.  As Lester’s eyes focus on Orbius he gasps.  “Behind you!” he cries.

Behind the eye is a horrible undead creature like none he’s ever seen.  It’s the head of a giant, rotting and bloated, with a yawning mouth that looks like it's just waiting to gobble Orbius up.  From its neck emerge a host of tendrils of flesh and vein, and a disgusting ichor trails behind it.  And as Orbius reaches out for Lester’s hand, crying, “Pull me through!!”- the crawling head wails like a banshee.


*A prestige class from Dragon magazine (not sure which number off hand- has the githzerai monk on the cover).  This is Angelfire’s new cohort.  The party is ridiculously full of powerful npcs at this point- Patyn (based off Sir Malachite in Piratecat’s campaign), Thrush, Azekia, Orbius, Verzavi, am I missing anyone right now??  Sheesh.  Fortunately, I usually let pcs play their cohorts, cutting down on the amount of extra work I have to do... especially in a complicated battle like this.

**Natural 20 on a Listen check the first round.   Even adjusted for distance, it got a 15- more than enough to hear the roaring balor.

*Next Time:* Our heroes in an EL 24 fight!  Watch them fight a balor, a crawling head, a nalfeshnee, Ferranifer, Absalom, Blaesing, Harrow, Instructor Ngise and Academician Drake all at once!!!


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

Very awesome visuals here, Jester...can't wait to see how this epic battle plays out-you seem to enjoy throwing tough encounters after tough encounters after tough encounters-I like 

(Not going to even guess on the 2 players list...confusing enough as is...maybe later perhaps after I can glean back some of the answers you've given around the bile mountain period heh)


----------



## the Jester

*The Assault on the Academy, part 2*

The scream of the crawling head is the kind of (literally) heart-stopping sound that is impossible to describe.  It’s full of loss and anger and hate, and it’s the vocal equivalent of dragging steel fingernails across a titanium chalkboard when you’ve got a shattered wrist.  It’s horrible, horrible; and it could drive the life right out of anyone without the fortitude to withstand it.*

Without exception, our heroes live.

Ulla and Thrush don’t even pause in their assault on the nalfeshnee.  The shifter’s golem-arms pound the great demon, staggering it, and then Thrush slices it apart with a flower-like pattern of blows.  It falls, dead.  Our heroes are still facing two opponents, but at least they aren’t facing three.

“Ware the crawling head!” Patyn cries.  “Those things are dangerous!”  He rushes towards it, channeling an immense burst of positive energy.  Brilliant white light flares from him with a _ZOSH!_  The light burns the head, great gobbets of flesh blasting loose.  It’s still lumbering up behind Orbius, but he vanishes, leaving a rainbow afterimage, as Lester pulls his cohort to him via the trump contact.  The head gnashes its great brown teeth, bits of them sloughing away as it does so.  Sybele gives up on her sound control and springs to attack the head as well- now she knows her strength is needed, and the group’s sneakiness seems to have failed them anyway.  Her blows mostly fall off the head’s body, though she does inflict some damage.  Grimly, she hopes the thing can’t wail again any time soon... Then it snaps back at her, missing with its great mouth, and lashes at her with the tentacles emerging from the stump of its neck.  The warrior of chaos fends off the first blow with her sword, but the next fleshy tendril grabs her with wiry strength and drags her towards the monster, wrapping her arms as it does so!  She gives a cry and struggles even as the monster gives her a convulsive squeeze.  

Meanwhile, Angel takes aim with the Deleter and unleashes its weird, inexplicable power.  A crackling ray zips out, striking the balor in the chest.  The flaming demon growls and spares Angel a glance, but no more.  She herself feels a burst of malaise spreading through her limbs.  Shaking her head to clear her eyes of spots, she glances again at the balor.  No visible effect, but clearly _something_ happened... She manifests _displacement_ and starts moving towards the balor.  Suddenly- thanks to her cloak- she’s got four arms, and two of them can use her falchion.  She’s rushing forward now, moving in on the balor.  Verzavi and Rex spring attacks again, striking it while it’s distracted by Angelfire.  Neither one of them harm it, but Verzavi keeps up her harrying tactics.

With a bellowing laugh, the great demon unleashes a _firestorm,_ catching _everyone._  The flames roll around the group for an agonizing moment of searing heat, and then our mighty heroes fight on.  Thrush yells for healing even as he approaches the balor, who smiles wickedly at the fighter.  But rather than engaging it in melee, Thrush whips out his bow and starts firing a barrage of arrows at Nazzgarr!  Ulla, meanwhile, shifts into elf form, heals him from a wand, and then turns to glare at the balor again.  Her form is already starting to twist like taffy as she prepares to shift again.

Orbius cries, “Your sword, noble solar!  Take it!!”  He extends the great blade forward.  Azekia smiles gratefully and takes back her blade, then turns and aims a mighty blow at the balor.  Where it is cut, it bleeds fire.  Lester flies in at the demon, but even Felix Optima Maxima cannot seem to get through its tough hide!  But even as he flashes by through the air, Azekia stabs the balor again!  Even her blows seem reasonably ineffectual against it, but she is wounding it a little.  Glaring at the solar, the demon steps back a few feet and glances at Lester.  For an instant, a powerful, wicked mind threatens to seize Lester’s body, but with a cry of fear he shakes it off.  

_I can’t hurt it,_ Rex thinks; his blows bounced off the demon like raindrops.  He turns and flaps his powerful wings, heading quickly towards the crawling head.  _Magic missiles_ streak past him, blasting into it, even as another brilliant blast of positive energy emanates from the hunter of the dead, who’s still closing in on it.  Sybele finally manages to struggle loose and staggers back a few feet from the rotting head- it seems to have some kind of sacs under its skin.  It’s utterly repugnant.  Then Patyn’s charging into it, swinging his blade, biting chunks of flesh from it.  The head snaps at him with its rotting teeth, taking a chunk of his leg.  Blood pours down his boot but he ignore it.  Another spell blasts into it, but this one fails to affect it.  His blows are barely effective, and he shouts, “Piercing!”  Sybele smiles grimly and backs away, pulling out her great bow.  

_This is going to be tough,_ the Eye thinks.

***

Meanwhile, Ferranifer and the Dim Triad are ready.  She _greater teleports_ them to the fight, and her foes do not notice Blaesing.  They never do, of course- that is what makes him so effective.  _So!  Whoever these invaders are, they have a solar!_ the Mistress of the Academy thinks.  That could be trouble.  She casts _banishment_ but the accursed celestial shrugs her magic off.  Yes, trouble.  That must be her very first priority, indeed.  It’s time to use _blackfire._  Firing off a quickened _magic missile,_ she communicates her intentions to the Triad telepathically, and they move like a well-oiled machine playing the part it’s rehearsed for years.

***

The sudden arrival of a trio (well, that anyone notices) of scary-looking individuals via teleportation doesn’t hearten the party too much.  There’s definitely a tough battle brewing here, and the group has a _time limit_ here- if it takes them too long to find Felenga’s phylactery, he’ll be active again!  Depending on what the Deleter did to him, and how long it lasts- well.  That could be bad, couldn’t it?

Absalom, wielding his bastard sword Eel, takes care of the _mirror images_ around Orbius.  Smiling, the villain stares boldly at the Eye as if at his newest piece of treasure.  Rex, stopping midway between the balor and the crawling head, breathes out a line of devastating force at the newly-arrived human and elven women (Ferranifer and Harrow).  Though he doesn’t know it, Blaesing, unseen, dodges the blast, for it goes right through the area she’s occupying.   Harrow grimaces in anger and casts a spell- she’s got a big ol’ falchion monkey gripped in one hand, notes Angelfire to herself with something approaching approval.  Then there’s a burst of orange flame as Lester calls down a _flame strike_ upon the newcomers, catching them all!  A chorus of shouts and cries from them brings a smile to the elementalist’s face, but unknown to him the unseen Blaesing once again evades.

The balor, meanwhile, teleports away from the middle of the gang surrounding it to a better location- guarding the entrance it’s supposed to guard.  Orbius has wandered too close, and the terms of Nazzgarr’s contract are clear.  It appears next to the Eye with a deep rumble and flames dripping from its great wings.  With a squeak, Orbius _teleports_ to Azekia’s side, and the evil balor lets out an evil laugh.  

Then the solar _screams_ as Ferranifer’s spell takes effect, and black flames flicker into existence around it, burning its very soul.  She writhes with horror, shrieking, “Get away!! Get away!!”  And a flicker of the black flame reaches out towards the Eye, caressing his aura...


*Thank god they’d slapped _protection from spells_ on before their assault began, giving them a +8 on saves vs. spell-like abilities!  DC 26 save or die, baby.  But the save or die (or similar effect) type stuff is _thick_ in this battle.  In fact, I’d never run a battle like this before.  It was _out of hand._


_*Next Time:*_ More instant death effects!  More 9th-level spells!  More insane, Epic-level battle!


----------



## Knightfall

Very... very cool.   

I really like the addition of the Hunter of the Dead, Patyn. That's one cool prestige class. (Jester, do you have Complete Warrior yet?)

Hmm, a HotD, a githzerai, and now celestials and demons. Reminds me of a couple of other story hours I've read. Not to mention fighting the powerful force of undead.

Maybe the PCs could gate in another solar and start a Cascade. Of course, that's if 'the Jester' allows such a tactic.

Heh!   

KF72


----------



## the Jester

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> Very... very cool.
> 
> I really like the addition of the Hunter of the Dead, Patyn. That's one cool prestige class. (Jester, do you have Complete Warrior yet?)
> 
> Hmm, a HotD, a githzerai, and now celestials and demons. Reminds me of a couple of other story hours I've read. Not to mention fighting the powerful force of undead.
> 
> Maybe the PCs could gate in another solar and start a Cascade. Of course, that's if 'the Jester' allows such a tactic.
> 
> Heh!
> 
> KF72




Heheh... yeah, Patyn actually uses essentially Malachite's 16th level stats (well, not after last game).  Verzavi is a pc's cohort- he gave me the basic idea and I did the rest- and celestials and demons have been a part of my campaign for... well... decades.  

As for a cascade, before Orbius can get another solar they'll have to fulfill Azekia's quest or risk getting a bad reputation amongst those outsiders that strike deals with mortals... which means worse deals or no deals at all when the calling spells are used.  Horbin can cast _gate_ too, though... he's working a lot of late hours lately however, so now it's his turn to be a big part of the group's scheduling issues (we have a large group so there are almost always scheduling issues, I'd say averaging people missing each session... sometimes you can read who was missing from the SH, if you look closely).

Oh, and I haven't picked up Complete Warrior yet but only cuz it was sold out the last two times I went to buy it.  I finally had my FLGS put it on hold for me.


----------



## the Jester

*The Battle Continues*

The blood-curdling scream of the solar Azekia echoes through the candlelit hall.  The black flames are burning on her very _soul._  She tries to dispel them and fails, and again gives out a mournful cry.  Orbius backs away from the licking ebon flames, wincing as pain shoots through his entire body at the merest touch of the fire.  He manages to avoid catching fire, however.  He casts a _greater dispelling_ and the fire dies!  With a sigh of relief and gratitude, the solar pulls out her bow, spreads her white-feathered wings and flies towards Nazzgarr. 

Sybele and Thrush continue to fire punishing arrow shot after arrow shot into the crawling head.  It winces, flinches, and roars, then snaps at Patyn again, chomping his right knee.  The hunter of the dead almost falls but catches himself and manages to dodge and parry the horror’s root-like flesh tendrils, however.  Rotting flesh falls in gobs as his blade hews at the horrible monster; then he tenses and unleashes another positive energy burst.  The dazzling blast of energy burns away layer after layer of putrescent grey head-matter!  The head gives another great cry, even as more of Sybele’s arrows land in it.  A final large arrow from the warrior of chaos tags it in the eye and it slumps, finally destroyed.  

Nazzgarr, meanwhile, has engaged Angelfire in melee.  His flame-bladed sword swipes out, leaving bloody lines across the templar’s chest and arm, and then the demon’s whip snakes out, striking and wrapping around the Coilite!  As it struggles to pull her into its flaming body she gets a look at her arm- and her skin has lost its scarlet tinge!  _She’s vulnerable to fire again!_*  Redoubling her struggles, Angelfire manages to avoid being grappled against the roaring flames of the balor.  With a roar, Nazzgarr flicks his whip free and cracks it again, preparing to renew his assault on Angelfire; but she’s too quick, and her falchion strikes like a serpent, slashing the balor’s forehead.  Its flame-blood drips into its eyes, blinding it!**  A terrible, loud growl emerges from Nazzgarr; he teleports to the center of the hall, shaking his head.  A rain of droplets of fire sprinkles out as he tries to clear his eyes!

Absalom steps up behind Patyn and unleashes a rain of blows.  The hunter of the dead turns to face him just in time, catching the first blow on the edge of his shield, the second on the flat of his sword.  Thankfully, his armor catches the other two blows, but he’s pressed for a moment before recovering his balance.  Rex steps in to give him a hand, though, and his slashing claws tear wounds along Absalom’s face and chest.  There’s blood, but-

_It’s cold,_ thinks Rex with a chill.

There’s a blast of electric energy as Lester _chain lightnings_ the vampires, destroying Harrow, and then Rex presses his attack, flanking with Patyn, and tears Absalom’s belly open deep.  Guts spill out and for an instant the man looks surprised- then he dissolves into mist. 

“VAMPIRES!” cries Lester.

A cheetah- Ulla in a very fast form- streaks towards the remaining vampires, then seems to morph into a stone golem.  Payton turns on the headmistress, smiting undead, and deals her a telling blow.  She smiles evilly and flips away, tumbling rather skillfully for a necromancer, but not skillfully enough to avoid a slap from Verzavi!  The githzerai’s blow doesn’t deal any damage, however, and the necromancer vampire reaches a safe distance and creates a _prismatic sphere_ about herself!

Thrush drops his bow and charges towards the balor.  Somehow his sword’s gotten into his hands.  He screams a battlecry as he rushes in and slices!  As he rushes forward, the balor’s whip, snapping through the air, catches him and trips him, foiling his attack.  Then Horbin hits the demon with a quickened _lower resistance,_ which works, and a _feeblemind,_ which fails.  

“All right, you stupid vampires, take _this!_” the L cries, and shows the resourcefulness that has led him to a successful career as an adventurer.  Well, as long as you don’t count the jail term and indentured servitude, but we’re not talking about that here.  Channeling the power of elemental earth, Lester reaches out with his power and triggers an _earthquake!_  A tremendous rumble emerges from the entire area as the ground shakes- and, as Lester had hoped, the roof caves in!  Rubble crashes down above Ferrranifer, disintegrating as it falls through the _prismatic sphere_, but the collapse allows a huge shaft of sunlight to pour in the hole!  The vampire necromancer screeches in displeasure as smoke starts rising from her skin, and _teleports_ out of sight.

Then Blaesing makes his move, stepping out from the shadows he’s been hiding in and attempting to assassinate Orbius.  Unfortunately, he misses!  The Eye yelps as he sees the new figure grinning at him.  Then Blaesing steps into the shadows with a wink and just seems to vanish, hiding- again- in plain sight.  

Verzavi and Angelfire both rush in on the balor again.  The demon, still blinded, gives out a terrible howl of anger.  The solar’s arrows are flying at the balor, but most miss.  For a moment the demon _dominates_ Thrush, but Horbin uses another _greater dispelling_ to free the fighter, who just looks madder as he turns and exchanges another series of blows with Nazzgarr.  Blood is running down the fighter’s arms and leaking from a rent in the breastplate of his armor.  Our heroes are now moving to focus on the demon, Orbius even going so far as to attempt to _disintegrate_ it- alas, to no effect, though it does convince the balor to employ a _power word stun_ on the Eye, leaving him reeling and unable to do much of anything.  Sybele’s still firing her bow, but now that the crawling head’s out of the fight- she spares it another quick glance just to double check- she’s firing at the demon as well.  Lester’s air elemental ally*** moves in to aid the party as well.

Our heroes are showing their wounds, so Horbin does what Horbin does best: he unleashes a _mass heal_, which instantly restores the flagging morale of the wounded, along with their strength.  They pile on the balor, though the L sticks next to the stunned Orbius to be safe.  _That assassin is somewhere!_ he thinks, knowing that Orbius is doomed if the assassin gets to him while he’s stunned.  

Then the balor re-dominates Thrush, and Horbin’s _greater dispelling_ fails to shake him free as he starts cutting at Patyn, dealing immense damage.  The party keeps pouring the attacks on the balor as Ferranifer reappears and tries to _imprison_ the solar and the solar tries to _imprison_ the balor and both fail, though the ground threatens to open them up and pull them below!  The angel and demon slam together and grapple back and forth like Captain Kirk and any of his many worthy foes, breaking apart after a few moments of flaming struggle.  Another _disintegrate_ ray shoots at the angel from a new figure at the passage from which the crawling head came- a grim-looking character with a single undead arm.  “A pale master!” cries Patyn, his voice full of hate.  Peeking out behind him is another, cadaverous looking fellow who fires off a quickened _enervation_ and another _enervation_, but to no avail (he misses Orbius due to his _mirror images_ and fails to penetrate the solar’s spell resistance).  Sybele and the balor exchange heavy blows that damage both of them seriously, but her more than him.

Lester surveys the damage around them grimly.  _This is a tough fight,_ he thinks grimly.  _It’s going to take some extreme measures to finish these guys!_  The balor still seems to be doing all right, there’s the pale master, that new necromancer guy (probably, anyway), Ferranifer, that  assassin guy sneaking around somewhere- 

This fight’s not over yet.


*Apparently the last time she used the Deleter it removed the Fire subtype she’d gained previously from a touch of Chaos.  

**The result of a critical hit, using my _colorful critical hit_ system. 

***Who everyone forgot about until that round.

_*Next Time:*_ The big fat battle concludes!  Will all our heroes survive??


----------



## Joshua Randall

I am contractually obligated to read all _Return to the Tomb of Horrors_ story hours.


----------



## the Jester

Joshua Randall said:
			
		

> I am contractually obligated to read all _Return to the Tomb of Horrors_ story hours.




Glad to hear it!


----------



## the Jester

Thrush, _dominated,_ opens Patyn up like a jar of pickles.  His blade deals severe damage, driving the hunter of the dead back a pace and cracking ribs, tearing flesh and armor.  Patyn's tough enough to take Thrush's blows- but barely.  Gritting his teeth, he keeps parrying what he can, but Thrush is perhaps the best swordsman on all of Dorhaus.  There isn't much hope, especially when Horbin shout, "I'm out of dispels!  Anyone else??"

Patyn, not wanting to fight Thrush- after all, he's clearly not himself, and he isn't evil- steps away and keeps slashing and poking at the laughing balor.  Fire drizzles from dozens of small wounds, but Nazzgarr's doing well, and now that he's got the fighter under control again-

Horbin, brilliant in moments of desperation, _dominates_ Thrush himself.  The fighter jerks to a halt as the two struggle momentarily for control over the puppet, but the balor has too much else to worry about as Patyn lands a stunning blow on it.  Nazzgarr grunts in surprise as he reels back.  

Then a _horrid wilting_ sucks the moisture from Nazzgarr- for whom it is painful, but not fatal- and Drake and Ngise, who are not so lucky as they are simultaneously caught in Orbius' _chain lightning_.*  Lester cries, "Take that, villains!" as he channels the power of elemental Water to slay them.

Seeing that the tide has turned severely against her side, Ferranifer screams out a _wail of the banshee_ and then retreats around the corner.  All of our heroes survive her death magick!  But the balor is still there- albeit stunned at the moment- and suddenly the vampire assassin Blaesing reappears, seemingly from nowhere, and tries to murder Thrush!  His blade skitters off the big man's armor.  He's just getting ready to strike again when Sybele scores an incredible blow on Nazzgarr and decapitates him!  There's a bright flash of light and a blast of raw energy that sears almost everyone** badly, but Blaesing manages to duck behind Thrush for cover and evades the blast entirely!  

"I know how to take care of you!" cries the L, and he unleashes another _earthquake,_ bringing down as much roof as he can without catching the party in the collapse, letting the sun in.  Even overcast outside, it's enough to cause Blaesing to scream in hideous rasping pain.  Smoke starts to rise from his terrified face and his fingers start to blacken.  Then Azekia steps up.

"Let the power of Good judge you!" she thunders, casting a _heal_ on the vampire and finishing it off.

The crashing of tons of rock just past the group subsides.  It seems that the entrance to the Academy itself is partially blocked, but at least one of the candle-flanked tunnels is open.  

"We should retreat to the castle and rest," suggests Sybele.

"No!" Patyn snaps.  "If we do, we'll be right back where we started- we'll have to fight our way back in.  Best to forge ahead while we can."

The group hesitates.  "There is something to what you say," says Orbius.

"All right," says Sybele with misgivings.

"What are we doing here again?" Thrush asks, scratching his head.

"Looking for Felenga's phylactery," Lester tells him.  "Remember?  Somehow this is connected to him..."  He pauses, puzzled.  "But now what do we do?"

The party mulls it over for a while.

***

_A solar,_ thinks Ferranifer grimly as the pain recedes.  _Who were they?  It almost looked like the stories of the Elementalist and the Eye, not to mention Malford- but surely not.  Why would they come here?_  Then she smiles wryly to herself (if congealing mist can be said to smile).  _Of course, what do legendary heroes do but try to overthrow legendary evil?

And there is no evil more legendary than the Devourer._

Laying in the cool, womb-like darkness of her casket, the vampire necromancer dreams dreams of power and revenge.  And of a solar.  It's the closest thing to a nightmare she's had since she became a vampire.

***

"Should have let me kill them," Patyn tells the group.  "Kill 'em dead.  They stay dead when I kill 'em."

"Right, right," says Lester.  "But what do we do now?"

"I will ascertain the proper course," Azekia says.  She invokes a _miracle_ to ape a _vision_ spell.  For a few moments it seems as though she's a million miles away, staring disconcertingly at something else, and her face looks at first quizzical, then shocked, then grim.  When she comes out of it, she tells them, "I saw us enter the utterly black maw of a great green face- and be destroyed.  It was as if we had to do something else first, to prepare the way."

"Well, let's find this face," Lester suggests, "and then we can do some divinations on it."  The group mutters a general assent, and Azekia attempts to _find the path_.  

"Down this hall," the solar says, gesturing at the candlelit hallway nearest them.  It's half-blocked by rubble, but with a little work our heroes can get by.  It's been a while, now, and there's still no sign of activity from the Academy, but our heroes are nervous.  After all, sundown has to come sometime, and then the vampires will be back on the loose.  So, as quickly as they can, our heroes go into the Tomb of Horrors....



*Even making his save, Drake took too much damage to survive the _horrid wilting_ alone!

**When a balor dies you get a save to avoid 100 points of damage.  If you make it you take 50.  Ouch!  Fortunately the party had just gotten off a _mass heal_ moments before.


_*Next Time:*_ Oh crap, our heroes are in the Tomb of Horrors!  Watch as they encounter the great green face and a mysterious riddle!


----------



## the Jester

The current party configuration as of the game after the big fight is:

Sybele- (19th) fighter 8/psion 9/warrior of chaos 2
Drelvin- (15th) fighter 6/order or the bow initiate 9
Angelfire- (20th)psychic warrior 14/cleric 4/templar 2
Ulla- (16th) druid 6/shifter 10
Rex- (16th) monk 5/sorcerer 1/dragon disciple 10
Lester- (21st) elementalist 14/warrior of chaos 4/paraelementalist 1/divine oracle 2
Horbin- (18th) cleric 18
Malford- (21st) rogue 7/illusionist 13/ascendant 1

Rarely is everyone there at once, unfortunately.


----------



## the Jester

*The Great Green Face*

Scrambling over chunks of fallen ceiling, the party moves into the surviving portion of the passage.  The walls are painted with bizzarre images of all kinds- jackal-headed beings, demonic figures, all sorts of strange things.  As soon as she enters the passage, however, Azekia's _find the path_ fails.  

"Crap," mutters Sybele.  

Cautiously, the solar leads the group forward.  Almost immediately she triggers a hidden pit trap, nimbly stepping back and avoiding falling in.  Grimly, she spreads her wings and begins a slow flight down the hall.  The rest of the group uses a variety of means, from Sybele's _spider climb_ to Patyn's _necklace of levitation_ to Ulla's turning into a bat, to avoid travelling along the floor.  Cautiously, weapons out and ready, they move down the painted hallway.  It seems eerily empty and abandoned; a thick layer of dust is everywhere.

At the end of the hallway, the group finds two interesting features.  T

The first, directly ahead of them, is an archway full of mist.  Any view of what's past the mist is obscured by the thick vapors.  

Along the left hand wall is a huge green face with an utterly black mouth.  Azekia points at it.  "That is what my _vision_ indicated... but we were destroyed when we attempted to pass through it!"

A few moments discussion and a little experimentation- the face seems to disintegrate objects stuck into it- lead Orbius to cast a _legend lore,_ and after about ten minutes he reports a snatch of verse:

_The face of the fiend does more than devour,
With the least of my form 'tis the gap to power._

"It was delivered," the Eye remarks, "in a distinct, sepulcheral voice- but not Felenga's."

"You know, Malford, if you were to remove the _geas_ for me again-" Lester starts, but Azekia interrupts him angrily.

"You are a shirker!  You are a powerful force for good yet you squander your potential, trying to weasel out of your agreements!"  Her face is full of wrath.  "With great power comes great responsibility, Lester.  You must realize that!  You are in need of correction!"

"What?  I fight for good!  And besides, it's Malford's _geas_ to help-"

"To help break curses," Malford states flatly.  "I think I was misled to some extent about the nature of the _geas_ on you, and I'm certainly not going to help you squirm free again after you willingly took it back."

Lester grumbles to himself while the solar frowns and shakes a finger at him.  The party puzzles over the riddle for a few moments, then decides to experiment with the arch of mist.  When Lester approaches it to stick something in and see if it will be disintegrated too, three of the arch's stones start glowing.  One glows blue, one orange and the third yellow.  Nothing else obvious happens, so the group continues fooling around with the arch.  They seem to be able to poke the end of something in and have it come out unscathed, so Orbius makes trump contact with Lester and the elementalist bravely steps through the arch- only to find himself back near the entrance to the frescoed hall!  Quickly, he flies back to the party.

"We must have to do something to the stones first," Orbius reasons, and they start touching each of the stones in various combinations and then sending the L through with an ally.  Eventually, Lester and Azekia go through the mist and find themselves somewhere else- a frustratingly small room, about a 10' cube.  The two of them are crammed in uncomfortably close, and the solar can smell the strong odor of adventurer sweat clinging to Lester's afro and robes.  Three levers are in the wall.

"I still have trump contact," Orbius reports to the rest of the party.  

"There isn't much here," the L tells his cohort.  "Definitely too small to rest in, and there are no exits.  Pull us back through to you and we'll see if we can find something else, some secret door or something."

But then they discover that they _can't_ pull Lester back through.  Orbius can touch him, and it's apparent that the L could pull Orbius to _him,_ but not the other way around.

"So it's further in or leave Lester behind," Sybele says.

Our heroes mull this over for a moment.  

"Well, we can't just leave him behind!" Thrush exclaims.

"I suppose you're right," Rex sighs.  

"Lester, start experimenting with those levers," Orbius suggests.  "Maybe one of them does something."

"Or some combination of them," Lester groans.

It turns out that the levers will move in any direction.  He and Azekia take turns throwing them into different configurations.  At first nothing happens.  Then, when the L throws them all downward, a great pit opens below them and the two tumble down, down....


_*Next Time: *_Continuing their exploration of the Tomb of Horrors, how will our heroes fare??


----------



## Joshua Randall

theJester said:
			
		

> _The face of the fiend does more than devour,_
> _With the least of my form 'tis the *grap* to power._



Man, I hope that's not the real legend lore or the party will never figure it out. 

"Grap? What's a grap?"

"I dunno, but acronym finder says it stands for Groupe de Recherche en Ambiances Physiques."

"Huh?!"


----------



## Technik4

After a long hiatus I come back with much to read! Your story hour grows more and more exciting Jester - seems like they took on the whole MM worth of demons. How do you work cohorts as far as finding them - is it generally a spontaneous situation or case-by-case you work out a good situation? And angelfire lost her chaotic power because of the Deleter? That would freak me out 

Technik


----------



## the Jester

Joshua, thanks for pointing that out!   I fixed my lil typo there...

Technik, it's good to see ya!  I was wondering what happened to you- hadn't seen you around in a while.  Yeah, the party's been busily fighting meaner and meaner things... and, of course, the heavily-modified TttToH storyline/tie-in with Felenga is being a lot of fun.  Our last game, when we were playing the low-level halfling party, Ulla's player kept wanting to play more of the Epic stuff soon!    She's a newbie, but she's lovin' it- even though the last fight the party had (with, of course, the demilich) scared the living crap out of her at the time.   

As for Angelfire's sudden reversion to being a female and then subsequent loss of her fire subtype, in between the two telling shots from the Deleter that did it to her she'd figured out what was happening and was talking to another player about losing her subtype.  Angel's player kept saying, "Well, it's a weakness." 

Unfortunately, the loss soon leads her to 30d6 damage, but we'll get to that.

Oh, as for cohorts, I do it on a case-by-case basis.  I made a terrible mistake with the first pc who took leadership and didn't let her get any of her followers or cohorts until the group got back to a town, city, or something, and she nearly gained a level and then died before she got anything from it.  A wasted feat- damn, that made me feel bad once I realized it (not til somewhat later).  That was Shallot, about whom I don't think anyone's told any tales, but she was a halfling rogue who lived through a forest fire caused by another pc.  Incredible story, it'll have to be told sometime in the Early Years thread...


----------



## the Jester

*The Crawlway*

Both the L and Azekia can tough out the damage from the fall, and both of them quickly heal it away; but the pit’s too small for them both to fly up.  Lester is small enough that he can fly up the shaft and Azekia is strong enough to climb it, but the experience leaves them testy and clinging to the walls.  

“We can’t hold on here forever,” the L grumbles, jerking the levers about again.  As a few moments go by, the pit closes below them, and they both step gingerly onto the floor, ready to grab the wall if anything seems to open up again, but nothing does.  The thought of being trapped at the bottom of the pit for- well, potentially for days-

“I wish I could just _pass through earth and stone,_” the L mutters to himself, but he’s already experimented with that.  The walls of the hill that the tomb is built in are full of lead spheres webbed together with some kind of wire- tons of them, so many that Lester can’t go more than about two feet in before they pile up too thick to get through.  They look like a good defense against burrowers, too.  _Damn it,_ Lester thinks.

Fiddling with the levers eventually opens a small crawlway above the two.  It’s too small for the solar to fit into, so Lester pulls himself into it and starts crawling along to explore it.  It leads him along what seems like a long, wandering path before finally ending in a blank wall.  Lester gives out a little cry of despair.

***

_The trapped souls dance in agony within his great gem.  He can’t help but stare at them from time to time, counting them all and recalling each and every name and story.  Each of them was once a powerful adventurer of such epic proportions that his or her spirit would serve the demilich in his ultimate goal.

Almost every one of them came looking for him, the spirit of the demilich muses.  Almost all of them thought they could challenge him.  And a few of them did challenge him- but only the fewest of the few could stand up to him in direct confrontation for more than an instant or two.  Even those who could had no idea of what it would take to truly defeat him.  He had lured those who could riddle the clues to the inevitable conclusion, and now, those most worthy of individuals dance in his gem.  

Until he has enough.  

These heroes, the ones daring his tomb now- they aren’t after him.  They may not even know about him!  They’ve torn through the ethereal defenses, though they’ll be repaired in days, and dealt a humiliating blow to those simpletons in the Academy, though honestly, if they can’t fix the physical damage in a day or two themselves he’ll be surprised.  

Either way, the way forward that the adventurers seek- to find and finish off the upstart- will test them to their limits.  If they survive, especially if they triumph over their chosen opponent- if they aren’t destroyed by the vestige of the city- will they be able to resist their curiosity?  Or will they follow the riddles to the phantom flyer?

The gemstone eyes watch the lights dancing in the huge gem.  Apotheosis is near._

***

The wall’s an illusion, to the L’s relief.  He pokes his head through for just an instant, then draws it back through the illusory wall in order to avoid being seen himself.  He waits for a moment, then slowly pokes his head through again and takes a longer look.  

The crawlway spills out into a pit full of spikes.  

“Crap!” Lester exclaims.  He maneuvers carefully and manages to turn himself around without falling into the narrow pit.  Muttering a series of quiet curses, the elementalist starts crawling the long convoluted way back to the angel.  Orbius, still maintaining trump contact, suggests the two of them carefully keep exploring the permutations of the levers, but after checking every possible configuration, they find that the pit and crawlway are the only things revealed.  

Lester begins the slow, laborious process of searching the crawlway.  _We just need a safe place to rest and recover spells,_ he groans to himself.  It’s difficult to search around in the crawlway- it’s so cramped that the L has to lay on his back to search the upper portions of the shaft.  If he were claustrophobic he’d hate it, but Lester has been wrapped in the safe grip of the earth more than once and he loves it.  Of course, the elements don’t care- but that’s alright.  If he wanted powers that cared, he’d be a cleric of a god instead.  

“Hey,” he cries, interrupting his own musings, “I found something!”

***

Orbius, his eyes growing tired from staring at the card he’s holding for so long, asks what he’s found and the L tells him there’s a secret door.  “Go through it,” the Eye urges him.  “We need to find a place to rest.”  Then he relates Lester’s progress to the group.  

“He’s going into a room... there are three big chests, he says.  No, Lester!  Don’t open them until more of us are there.  Is there room to rest?”  He pauses, listening to the other end of the contact, which no one else can hear.  “Look around first... maybe we should send someone through to you?”

Not paying to much attention to the Eye’s conversation, Drelvin is puzzling over the riddle.  _The face of the fiend does more than devour,_ he muses.  _With the least of my form ‘tis the gap to power.  What does that mean?_  He stares at the great green face mournfully.  _I wish we had Thimbleton here*.  He was always a smart one.  We need smart people here now!_

***

Ferranifer glares at the Dim Triad.  "Never before have you failed me," she snarls, "but the lapse is understandable after the assault those... _adventurers_ perpetrated."  Her body is as still as a statue; only her cold face moves.  "We're going to destroy them utterly.  We will find out what they are after and then insure that they fail.  And after we kill them..."  She smiles.

Death, after all, is only the beginning.

Ferranifer knows the solar is the biggest problem, so she takes appropriate measures when selecting her spells.  She also knows that the hunter of the dead is the one enemy they dare not give a chance to strike.  "He is to be destroyed utterly," she snaps at her servitors, and they do not argue.  Silently, Blaesing nods; the other two radiate simple obedience.  The headmistress of the academy leads the Triad to the hall where the battle with the party happened; a significant chunk of it has been destroyed, but a _wish_ undoes the damage easily.  Then, with no fear of sun spilling in on them, the villains stealthily approach the entrance to the Tomb of Horrors.  Crawling upon the walls and ceiling, the vampires head down the hall to the arch of mists and the Great Green Face- the sign of the Devourer.

_They made it this far, at least,_ Harrow remarks over the telepathic link that all four share.

_But not out,_ Absalom sends back.  He's grinning at the only way out, which seems undisturbed.  

Though she need not speak aloud, Ferranifer does.  Her harsh voice adds a certain level of emphasis to her words.  "Perfect.  Then you three will wait here for them to emerge.  If they do not emerge within a day or two, Blaesing will wait here while you two-" she doesn't even bother to gesture at Absalom and Harrow- "enter through the arch and seek to lure them out."  Her eyes seems to burn into Blaesing.  "This is the _perfect_ place for you to ambush them.  Do not fail me again."

The assassin bows reverently.

***

Azekia _polymorphs_ into a deva to crawl through the cramped crawlspace and then into the room with three chests.  The room is big enough to rest in, but the three gigantic chests somewhat worry our heroes and a debate erupts as to whether to open them up before resting or after.  “What if something comes out while most of us are asleep?” Lester points out.  

“Perhaps we should open it now,” the angel suggests.  

“We could probably get there quickly if need be,” Orbius points out.

“All right,” Lester says.  “I’ll open it up.”  He stops and grins at Azekia.  “Hey, this is kind of fun, you know?  Us angels hanging out together?  I mean, you’re an angel of Galador and I’m Malford’s angel of adventure.”  The solar just shakes her head, clearly not fully approving of the L’s styling himself an angel.

Before he opens it up, he trumps Verzavi and Thrush in for some backup.  Then the L throws the chest open.



*Thimbleton was a gnome illusionist who started as Malford’s apprentice and was a longtime adventuring companion of Lester, Malford, Alcar, Drelvin and others (Belmondo, Hobbes, Stone, Rindardo, Cyrax, Malador and a host of others about whom you have mostly not read, alas).  

Lest you think Drelvin is discounting Malford’s intellect, his player wasn’t there for this session so he didn’t count for purposes such as solving the riddle. 


_*Next Time:*_ The three chests!  Our heroes find an impressive ring and a not-so impressive ring!


----------



## Felikeries

why exactly don't they ever use a 'mass damage' on a wall or area of the 
dungeon then just fly through if it's a chasm,to make a simple jump from one place to the next....

do those spells use too much power becuase of the effect that could make avoiding a problem or trap too easy....

there used to be a 3rd level Cleric spell Maleable Material that could pretty much melt away a wall etc... so you could just walk through


----------



## the Jester

Felikeries said:
			
		

> why exactly don't they ever use a 'mass damage' on a wall or area of the
> dungeon then just fly through if it's a chasm,to make a simple jump from one place to the next....




They often do.  But in this case, they don't know exactly what they're looking for, and those sorts of mass damage spells might destroy it without them ever knowing exactly what it was. 



> there used to be a 3rd level Cleric spell Maleable Material that could pretty much melt away a wall etc... so you could just walk through




Interesting... I'm not familiar with that, where was it from?


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## Felikeries

the Jester said:
			
		

> They often do.  But in this case, they don't know exactly what they're looking for, and those sorts of mass damage spells might destroy it without them ever knowing exactly what it was.
> 
> 
> 
> Interesting... I'm not familiar with that, where was it from?





the original A D&D which relies on regents rather than learning and #of usages or cost thereof,which i remember Weaving Web(a defense thatch created makes -3 attacks on enemy thrown over) and Maleable Material(turns walls etc into liquid after 1 round real time,just a space or area)

-which could allow passing through from one hall to the next avoiding traps etc,as it is Clerical ability to locate item or detect good or evil could allow the destruction of an area and still not damage the item being looked for because of it's general vicinity being known

-though that's one of my questions....as a DM to avoid the use of 'dungeon maiming' spells,the spells themselves or warnings about what will happen if they cast 'major earthquake' ' crumbling wall' 'alchemy metal to liquid' may be the final way in this example


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Hurray, for I am caught up again with this!

More utterly awesome stuff, Jester. Fascinating!


----------



## the Jester

Glad to have ya back, Tallarn!    Here's hoping you continue to enjoy the story as our heroes move into Epic levels...!

Update to come in a few minutes- it's almost finished.


----------



## the Jester

*The Room of the Three Chests*

_You can always count on Lester to pull the lever you shouldn’t pull, break the seal that shouldn’t be broken, or let the thing out that should be kept caged away._

Which one of his friends said that first?  Lester can’t remember, but it flashes through his mind as he opens the first chest, cringing away from it as he does so. 

Nothing happens; no monster jumps out, no trap is triggered, no ward explodes.  “Whew!” the L sighs in relief, then looks in the open chest.  At the bottom of it is a box made, perhaps, from glass; certainly it’s transparent, whatever it is.  Within the box can be seen a ring.  

“Perhaps the box is trapped,” Verzavi says quietly.  Nodding, Lester ponders for a moment and then determines to overturn the chest rather than pull the glass box out.  First he closes the lid, then he struggles with the chest itself; it’s large and very heavy, and he wonders for a moment whether he’s bitten off more than he can chew.  Then Angelfire trumps through and she and Thrush move to Lester’s side.  Together the three burly warriors tumble the large chest forward, knocking it on its face.  They hear, quite clearly, a set of *thunks* from within and a tinkling noise.  Upon muscling the lid open- not easy with the chest face down- they find that the box has broken and three poisoned darts are imbedded in the lid of the chest.  They snatch up the ring.

“Well,” Lester blusters, “that wasn’t so bad!  Should we open the others?”

“Perhaps we should rest first,” Azekia suggests.

“What, are you afraid?” sneers Angelfire.

“I fear nothing!” the solar snorts disdainfully.  “If you are so eager to face more danger without first resting, feel free to open the next one.”

“And you’ll open the final one?” challenges the Coilite.

“Certainly.” 

_All these angels, so prideful,_ thinks Angelfire.  _So predictably full of hubris.  So easy to bait..._  She flexes her hands within the Deleter and throws the second chest open.  While the first was of silver, this one is of wood.  As the lid is thrown back, a hot wind issues from the chest and then, suddenly, there’s a huge skeleton standing there!  It swings a massive morningstar at Verzavi, catching the poor githzerai across the chest and smashing her backwards!  The thing seems to be moving with unnatural speed, striking rapidly until the arcanopath tumbles away.  Lester dives for cover and screams at Orbius to start trumping the party in.  The party moves in as quickly as they can while those in the room duel with the huge skeleton.  

Now the skeleton is surrounded by Angelfire (making a point to step behind Patyn for cover during the battle), Patyn, Drelvin, Thrush and Sybele.  Ulla’s there as well, but nobody really notices her in the form of a bumblebee.  Even moving with twice the speed that it should the skeleton is not match for our heroes.*  Soon it is a bunch of splintered bones scattered about the chamber.

“Your turn.”  Angelfire stares at Azekia with a cold grin.  With a curt nod, the solar strides to the third chest- this one made of gold- and opens it.  And snakes spill out. 

It’s a huge chest, about 20’x10’x5’; it’s _full_ of vipers.  Azekia gives a yell of surprise as the snakes swarm out of the chest like a living carpet, biting at everyone.  Our heroes are ready for action and well-armed, however, and they slice and slash and shoot at the oncoming horde of snakes.  It’s over in the blink of an eye, with a few of our heroes taking a bite or two but everyone still in reasonable shape.  A quick look turns up another ring at the bottom.

“I wonder if these are keys of some kind, or important in some way,” muses Drelvin.  

“I can check them out,” Sybele offers, extracting a length of orangish crystal from her pack.  Using two charges from her _dorje of identify,_ she ascertains that the first ring is a _ring of wizardry_ while the second one is a cheaply-made, unreliable _ring of protection +1._  The contrast between the two rings is striking.  Drelvin frowns and wishes again for Thimbleton’s presence.  

“Now can we rest?” Sybele asks plaintively.

And they do, setting heavy watches. 

***

_Bit to come once an encounter happens.  Related to the above bit to come- you could say that the above bit will introduce something, and this one will show us a little about its technique._

***
An unmolested nine hours after settling down to sleep, our heroes are a little less weary.  Refreshed, most with a new complement of spells, our heroes set to finding their way.  There are no obvious exits from the chamber of the chests, but a search by Drelvin- proclaiming, “I’m an elf, I’m good at finding secret doors”- turns one up, set 10’ aboeve the floor.  A little teamwork soon sees the party moving through another crawlway, this one leading to another passage.  Angelfire, in the lead, pokes her head out the exit and is surprised to see that the wall behind her looks solid- it looks like her head is sticking out of a red circle painted on the wall of the hall.  Cautiously, the party pops out of the hidden passage and examines the great hall of spheres.

The floor beneath their feet is tiled with some sort of ceramic tile.  The walls all painted with a variety of animals, signs and glyphs, demons and monsters, and everywhere spheres- although, really, they are mere circles, being painted on a two-dimensional surface.  The weird symbols are easily recognizable to those in the group of greater arcane learning as symbols of magical power, necromancy and conjurings, death magic and unholiness.  There’s an almost visible glow of magic everywhere in this place, an almost audible hum of arcane powers.  Clearly, this is not a place to be trifled with.  “Remember the green face!” warns Patyn harshly.  “Be careful about sticking anything in any of those circles!”  At the far end of the hallway is another mist-filled archway, which Sybele frowns at suspiciously.

There are a couple of doors, as well.  However, both turn out to be traps; when opened, they reveal only spring-loaded traps.  Rex takes a blow from a great blade and shakes his head in disgust, but is heartened when a search of the trap’s recess turns up a key.  “Well, that’s something,” he mutters to himself.

The group starts systematically and carefully examining the spheres to see if any of them are illusory.  Immediately they find one, a gold one held high above the head of the strange, fey-looking image below it.  Ulla flies through and changes into a cat, following on Rex’s heels as the dragon disciple crawls through into a room with- 

“Uh oh,” Rex mutters, retreating quickly.  “There’s some kind of statue back there,” he reports.  “It looks kind of mean.  Like some kind of three armed gargoyle.”

“Let’s check it out,” says Angelfire cheerily.  Most of the group heads into the statue room while the larger Sybele and Azekia stay out in the hall of spheres.  

After the last of the others vanishes behind the gold circle, Azekia and Sybele wander to the arch of mists.  This time, instead of blue, yellow and orange, the stones on the arch glow olive, russet and citron when it is approached.  The two of them retreat from the arch, not really feeling like getting into quite that much trouble on their own, and Azekia remarks, “I shall perform an _augury_ on the arch.”  She spends a few moments in intense contemplation of a set of stones that she casts before her before looking up at Sybele with a tight mouth and proclaiming, _”Woe.”_

***

Meanwhile, our heroes examine the statue in the small room beyond the gold circle very carefully.  It’s a three-armed gargoyle, with it’s fourth arm broken off and nearby.  The hands of the statue are outstretches and open, and each palm is set with a carved concavity, sized for... something.

But what?

Scratching their heads, our heroes decide to mull this one over for a moment before doing anything rash, but knowing our heroes, something rash is doubtless in the works.....


*It was under the effect of a _double actions_ spell, which has been developed independently by several wizards over the aeons, including Marius and, apparently, someone involved in the godsforsaken tomb that our heroes are presently in.


_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes mess with the statue, and we’ll have us a good ol’ time with the Dark Shadow and a nasty, nasty trap!  Those of you familiar with the original S1 may remember the instant death, no save, over the top trap, and some of you may have caught a reference about my getting to roll 30d6 points of damage...


----------



## the Jester

I edited in the missing piece of backstory in the first post above, for anyone interested in going back to check it out.

The other one prolly won't get inserted til after next game.  Last night's session didn't go so well for the pcs, as Blaesing got to spring his ambush.

Divide and conquer, baby, and the most painful sneak attack I've yet seen: an arrow up the anus.


----------



## the Jester

Let’s just have a quick recap before the next update as to who the party is, what they’re doing, and who their enemies are.

The party consists of (some or all of) the following (depending on who shows up to the session):

*God-King Malford the Magnificent,* gnomish rogue 7/illusionist 13/ascendant 1.
*Lester,* called the L or the Elementalist; elementalist 14/warrior of chaos 4/paraelementalist 1/divine oracle 1.
*Angelfire*, psychic warrior 14/cleric 4/templar [modified] 2.
*Sybele*, fighter 8/egoist 8/warrior of chaos 2.
*Rex*, monk 5/sorcerer 1/dragon disciple 10.
*Ulla*, druid 6/shifter 10.
*Horbin the Holy*, cleric 18.
*Drelvin the Archer*, fighter 6/order of the bow initiate 9

Plus our npc buddies:

*Thrush*, an extraordinarily skilled greatsword wielder and Sybele’s fiancé (fighter 20);
*Patyn*, a hunter of the dead of formidable powers (paladin 7/hunter of the dead 10);
*Orbius*, the Eye of Boccob, who is Lester’s cohort (diviner 7/divine oracle 10);
*Azekia*, a solar gated in by the party.
*Verzavi*, Angelfire’s cohort, a githzerai monk 5/psychic warrior 1/arcanopath 8

A fairly formidable group, but they are, after all, invading the Tomb of Horrors.

Among the many enemies our heroes have made over the course of their adventures is a devastatingly powerful arch-lich named Felenga with some outstanding features (like rush monster tentacles and a beholder’s antimagic eye on his chest).  He once cast a quickened _meteor swarm_ at the party- definitely not someone to trifle with.  Way, way, way out of our heroes’ league.  

But there was a way they could get him- the Deleter, a strange pair of gloves the party retrieved from the Far Realms.  They’re fleshy-looking and don’t come off once attached to the wearer (though a powerful entity did manage to get them off of Drelvin).  When the party went to confront Felenga, Drelvin wore the Deleter.  It seemed to cause Felenga horrendous pain, and better yet, the second blast stripped him of his bizarre extra body parts!  The party destroyed the staggered Felenga, but they know that, as a lich, they must find and destroy his phylactery.  A string of clues has led them to the a mysterious green face with a mouth of infinite blackness.  This face lies in the Tomb of Horrors, which they’ve invaded via ethereal assault, bypassing the strange city of necromancers that surrounds it.  Our heroes only managed to enter the Tomb after an arduous battle against a horrendous force of demons and undead, including Ferranifer, the headmistress of the Black Academy that seems to directly surround the Tomb, and her vampiric Dim Triad.

Now they wander the halls of a deadly, trap-filled Tomb, trying to figure out how to pass through the mouth and into the strange, darkling plane that Orbius saw in a _vision_.  Azekia, too, has cast a _vision_- showing the party passing through the mouth as if it were a door, but dying in shrieking agony.  A _legend lore_ has given the party a cryptic riddle, delivered in a hollow, sepulcheral voice: _”The face of the fiend does more than devour/With the least of my form ‘tis the gap to power.”_

I have very good players, who were pretty darn good about separating their player knowledge from their character knowledge.  The players recognized the Tomb of Horrors with the first illustration I handed out.  The characters had never even heard of the demilich (with the exception of Patyn).

And now, on to the update!


----------



## the Jester

*The Three-Armed Statue*

A four-armed statue squats grotesquely before our heroes.  Well, it _was_ four-armed once; now one arm lies nearby, broken off.  

“What do you think?  Coins?”  Lester is speculating on what they should put in the statue’s hands.

Dubious, Drelvin says, “We don’t want to make it animate or anything...”

“No, look, there’s a place to put stuff- it probably opens a secret door or something!” the L insists.  

Drelvin slips a coin into each hand of the statue.  Nothing happens.  He tries again with gold instead of silver.  Still nothing.  She takes a closer look at the concavity.  

“It’s about the right size for a gem,” Rex suggests. 

The party loads a gem into each of the three hands, and to their surprise- well, a little, anyhow- the hands clamp closed, crushing the gems to powder.  “Anyone see anything open or anything?” Thrush asks, glancing about.  There’s a moment of silence; plainly, no one sees anything obvious.  The group searches around for a few moments, and when Rex examines the broken arm on the floor, he finds something small and transparent- some kind of lens!  He exclaims in surprise and the party moves to examine the piece of treasure.  

“It’s magic,” confirms Ulla after a moment.  Rex holds it to his eye and peers through it, and blinks back in surprise.  There’s a certain _clarity_ through the lens...it’s indescribable, but somehow looking through the gem there’s a sense that he sees more correctly through it.  He reports his finding to the group, who all share his wonder.  Someone suggests that they might need it to find something, and the group resolves to use it when searching for secret doors in the future when possible.  

A thorough search turns up nothing else, so the party crawls back out to where the larger Sybele and Azekia wait, in the hall of spheres (well, circles, really).  The two of them have been talking in the meantime, with the solar trying circuitously to talk Sybele over to the side of Good while Sybele inquires about the status of the warrants on herself and several other party members from the Court of Law.  That adventure seems an age ago, but it was only about six years, Sybele realizes.  

Sadly, Sybele doesn’t seem too interested in changing her neutral ways.  On the other hand, Azekia isn’t entirely clear of the status of the legal problems the party has found it in, so it comes out even.  Nevertheless, it’s friendly discourse, and the two find each other to be respectable company until the other members of the party pop back out of the crawlway.  “What’d you find?” Sybele calls out excitedly, and the others tell the two that waited behind about the statue.  

“Why are we here again?” Thrush asks, half-sarcastically.

“Felenga’s phylactery,” Angelfire reminds him.  “The riddle.”  Thrush just grins.  He briefly considers taking one of his remaining doses of _luhix_ (a drug he took off a defeated enemy’s corpse some time back) but wisely decides against it.

“So what’s next?” asks Patyn.

“Well, let’s finish checking for secret doors here,” Sybele suggests.  “Maybe some more of these circles have crawlways behind them.”  So the party resumes their search, triggering another spring-loaded hammer trap that strikes Rex a stinging blow, and soon the party finds another crawlway.

“I’m not gonna be able to go anywhere,” Sybele groans. 

“We can find a way,” Angelfire says confidently.  “For now, why don’t you two stay here and we’ll go check it out.”  Sybele nods and the rest of the group other than herself and Azekia move, one by one, into the small crawlspace.  

After they’re gone, Sybele looks at Azekia and smiles.  “I guess we’re gonna have more time to get to know each other better,” she says brightly.

The rest of the group worms its way forward slowly- twenty feet, forty feet, eighty feet of twisting tunnel.  “This is ridiculous!” moans Drelvin, not too happy to be an elf bellycrawling underground in an evil tomb.  The tunnel keeps going- forever, it seems like.  Finally, Angelfire, in the lead, comes to a blank wall  She gives out a choked cry of despair, but then uses the cusp.  A secret door is plainly visible!

Excited, she starts feeling the edges of it, trying to find a mechanism.  Soon she detects a small stud; depressing it causes the secret door to slide aside!  Angel scrambles out of the tunnel and looks around wildly, not wanting to be taken by surprise; but there’s no sign of an enemy to fight.  Instead, there are three rows of pews facing an opalescent blue altar.  A tiled mosaic path leads between the pews and a dais upon which sits the altar; and the skeleton of some hapless human lies blasted on the floor, pointing an accusing finger at an archway of roiling orange mists of an exciting hue.

“_Another_ arch,” comments Thrush dryly.

“Yep,” says Rex.

The walls are painted with bizarre scenes of normal life- except the figures depicted, such as farmers, craftsmen, etc. are shown with skeletal hands, rotting flesh, worms eating them, and other weird imagery.  Even stranger, there are several images of holy symbols of good alignment.  Patyn sneers; clearly, it’s some sort of attempt at sowing doubt and confusion in attackers.  _He_ won’t fall for such an obvious ploy.

Rex moves to search the altar.  As soon as he touches it, however, the altar reacts rather harshly....


_*Next Time:*_ The Chapel of Evil!


----------



## the Jester

*The Chapel of Evil; plus, a footnote on electrum drelvins*

The altar is made of a weird, opalescent blue material.  It glows from within with a pale blue light.  As Rex touches it, the altar fires a sudden intense blast of lightning through him, catching Angelfire and Thrush as well.  The smell of ozone fills the air and the altar starts glowing an angry bluish-red, with a growing, scintillating aura.  Our heroes, staggered by the lightning bolt, hesitate- and the altar blows itself apart, sending chunks of the weird opalescent material flying at them with explosive force!  When it’s over almost everyone is smarting from their wounds, but being heroic* our heroes just continue their search.  There’s not much left of the altar; the dais is now scarred and, in some places, embedded with smoking pieces of the altar.

The pews, Drelvin and Rex discover, have hinged seats.  The rearmost pair of pews- the first ones they check- contain about 8000 sp between them.

“A lot of change,” Drelvin says ironically.  Nobody takes any of it.

“Let’s check the rest of the pews!”  Rex looks greedily at the other three pairs of benches.  “Maybe there’s some gold or platinum!”  He opens up the next pew and finds electrum.

“That’s unconventional,” comments Patyn.

“Hey, are there any drelvins in there?”** The archer starts digging through the coins excitedly.  Several other party members join in on the fun, but nobody finds a drelvin.  They do, however, find some odd electrum coins with an undead ram’s head on it.

“Orcus,” Patyn states.

“Orcus?” Thrush asks.  “Who’s that?”

“Demon prince of undead,” Patyn snarls.  “But he’s dead.”

“What?” exclaims Drelvin.  “I’ve heard of Orcus, but not that he was dead!  How’d he die?”

“It was quite some time ago, actually.  He was slain by the Drow goddess Kirianselee.”

“Well, who would put Orcus on their currency?” 

“Maybe,” suggests Angelfire, “the academy back there.”  She gestures vaguely, since she doesn’t know which direction the Black Academy lies in.  

Patyn shakes his head.  “No, they don’t mint coins.”  He fingers the electrum with Orcus’ face upon it thoughtfully.  “I don’t know where they’d put _his_ visage on their coins.  Somewhere where they worship him...”

The party examines the silver coins but finds none with Orcus’ face upon them.  With a shrug, Rex opens the next hinged seat.  “Gold!” he cries gleefully.  The party scoops it up.  “I’m guessing that means there’s platinum in the next one!” Rex says, hurrying over.  He throws open the seat-

There’s a hissing sound as olive-colored gas sprays out at a prodigious rate.  “Aargh!” Rex cries, and the party feels a weakness start to steal over their limbs.  Rex throws the seat shut and the group retreats to the room’s far corner for a few moments while the gas dissipates.

“Maybe the other one,” Rex mutters, approaching the other pew of the foremost pair.

“Wait, it’s bound to be another trap!” Thrush calls, but too late: Rex opens the pew up and more gas sprays out.  With another strangled cry, the dragon disciple heaves the pew shut then hurries to the far corner with the others.

Someone mutters something about “worse than Lester,” but Rex ignores it.  He’s wondering if that platinum is underneath the gas...?  Is it worth it?  

“How about the arch?” Ulla asks.

“I don’t know about that,” Drelvin puts in quickly.  “Let’s check out some more mundane places first.”  The group nods in agreement and they search for secret doors.  Drelvin finds something interesting: a circle scribed in the stone.  “I’m an elf,” he comments with a wry smile, “we’re good at finding things.”  

The party pokes and prods the circle to no effect.  Reasoning that it must do something, they try to put something over it.  First the press a coin to it (it’s about the right size) but to no effect.  They try one of the Orcus coins (many of the party took some in case they prove necessary for something or other), but this doesn’t do the trick either.  Gems don’t cause any reaction.

“How about a ring?” suggests Sybele.  

It seems as though a ring would fit just right.  “Why don’t we put that sucky _ring of protection_ we found in?” suggests Drelvin.

They do.  The ring slides neatly into the circle in the stone and, with a great grinding sound, the massive block of stone begins to sink into the floor, revealing a passage behind it!  The block only descends a few inches, however; before grinding to a halt and closing again.  The ring is crushed to powder.

“Crap,” says Thrush helpfully.

“Perhaps a different ring?” suggests Ulla.

“I bet we have to use that _ring of wizardry_ we found in the box,” Drelvin remarks.  The party digests this for a moment.

“It seems logical,” groans Angelfire.  “Whatever we need to get through is basically a key, right?  And they key should be in this place somewhere, right?”

“We should get Sybele and Azekia first,” Ulla says, and turns into a bat to fly back and tell them to join the rest of the party.  Azekia and Sybele have been having a nice time chatting.  While they waited Azekia performed an _augury_ and determined that moving through the arch in the hall of spheres would be a very baneful sort of thing to do.  Both the angel and Sybele are glad to move on.  Azekia _polymorphs_ into a smaller form for the trip and Sybele manages to get through as well.***

Then the group proceeds to insert the ring into the circle; and the stone block slowly, slowly, grinds downward, revealing a dark passage beyond it.  There’s a faint stink in the air, barely noticeable and impossible to identify.  Behind the block the passage runs out onto a landing, which then descends in a broad stairway to the right.  Cautiously our heroes head downwards...

*The smallest number of total hp in the party is 104.  The highest is *314.*  (That’s Lester.)

**Of course, electrum has fallen out of favor as a medium of exchange, but there are still old coins found here and there.  Their value tends to fluctuate more widely than conventional coins, however, since electrum is not a natural metal and the coins are not generally minted any longer.  

Different realms put different coins out, of course.  About a decade ago, the electrum pieces of Malford’s new Dorhausian nation were called “drelvins” and had Drelvin’s form holding his bow on one face of the coin.  When Drelvin lost a powerful bow devoted to the Queen he fell out of favor and they stopped minting drelvins.

***Now how she got through I honestly don’t remember and don’t have in my notes.  I want to say that someone _reduced_ her, but I don’t know who that would’ve been... Maybe Drelvin’s sword?  I dunno.


_*Next Time:*_ Have I mentioned the trap that did 30d6 points of damage in one round?


----------



## the Jester

*The Trap That Did 30d6 Damage!*

The stairs our heroes descend lead down about 20’ before ending in a hallway that leads away to their right.  Cautiously, our heroes advance to a doorway.  Weapons are loosened in their sheaths and Sybele throws the door open.

A 20’ long hallway, ending in another door. 

Annoyed, Sybele moves forward to walk to the next door and almost falls into a pit that opens up beneath her feet!  She jerks back, barely in time.  “Heh,” Drelvin smirks.  “Pit trap.  Oldest trick in the book.”  

Rex spreads his draconic wings and takes to the air, flying over to the other door and landing gingerly before it.  The rest of the group starts making their way over while Rex opens the door- and frowns as he sees another 20’ hallway ending in a door.  “Careful,” he warns, “there’s probably another pit trap here.  Man, I hope there aren’t too many doors in a row.”  He launches himself into the air again, and again he lands before the far door.

“No kidding,” remarks Drelvin.  Shastruth is in his hand.

“This one’s different,” Rex calls.  “The passage keeps going and turns.  But I bet there’s a pit trap somewhere.”  Sybele prods about and soon triggers one.  

It takes a few moments for the group to pass the pits but it’s not really very hard.  Thrush grumbles to himself about needing a way to fly or something, but for now he can simply be carried.  Then our heroes cautiously advance to the bend in the passage and peer around the corner.  The hall seems to go on past the limits of their vision.  Nervously, our heroes begin advancing.  Then-

“What’s that?” cries Drelvin.

Something _moves_ in the darkness.  A tremendous chill falls over the group as a whole; whatever it is, it is _wrong._  The party begins moving forward, Azekia issuing a _prayer_ on their behalf as they move; and then a cone of freezing vapor issues from the dark shadow before them.  Almost everyone is caught in the blast, and though the damage is not enough to fell any of our heroes, they all feel the chill settle in their bones.

Shastruth casts _true strike_ on Drelvin while Angelfire, Azekia, Patyn, Rex and Ulla move forward to attack the dark shadow.  Whatever it is, it’s clearly hostile and looks very dangerous.  I mean, hey- isn’t _everything_ in here very dangerous?  Anyhow, this one looks nasty.  Rex, Ulla and Azekia reach it quickly enough to attack before things go awry, and the solar is the only one of them to land a blow in their first exchange.  “Incorporeal!” Rex yells a warning.

Then things go awry.

“Beware!” cries Verzavi, springing backwards from the tunnel.  The gith has clearly seen something and is crying out, “Trap, trap!”  

“The hall’s tilting!” screams Sybele, even as she fires from the edge of the part- there’s some sort of hinge, and-

Patyn grimly activates his _necklace of levitation,_ knowing he’s probably too slow to avoid whatever happens next.  He winces sympathetically as the solar is struck by the dark shadow’s _finger of death,_ but fortunately Azekia shrugs it off.  Her sword flashes with holy power as she continues to hack at the thing, whatever it is, that lured them into this passage.  Angelfire keeps advancing while Thrush, realizing that the lack of flying he was just bemoaning might shortly prove lethal, rushes back to the area that seems stable.  Just in time, he leaps out as the hinged passage swings down.

Let’s describe how this works in detail.  As the pcs walk down a hall, they pass a certain point with a hidden hinge in the floor.  From there, once enough weight is far enough out past the hinge to trigger the trap, the hinged section of hallway tilts from a horizontal position to a vertical position.  The ‘tilting hall trap’ also includes the ceiling and walls; the effect being, when it swings downward, all creatures in it are smacked around pretty hard, potentially stunned, and probably falling down the 100’ of hinged hallway and landing in the red glow below.

As it is incorporeal, the dark shadow, of course, merely passes through the wall as it swings downward.

Patyn, Azekia, Rex and Ulla are battered badly as the hall swings down, crashing into them and bouncing them off the walls for a moment.  Thanks to his necklace, Patyn dangles in midair; Azekia and Rex both manage to get their wings moving in time to catch themselves before falling.

Angelfire, unfortunately, has no flight capability at the moment, and with a startled cry, she lands in the red glow below, which turns out to be a tremendous pool of molten rock.  An incredibly loud, high-pitched scream echoes up into the passage.

“Uh-oh,” says Rex, and dives to aid her. 

 Sybele and Drelvin, meanwhile, fire into the darkness.  The hall’s swung down but the thing’s bound to be there somewhere!  Two of Drelvin’s arrows manage to hit, but they still can’t even see it.  Then Azekia ascends from the passage and glares in the direction of the dark shadow.  

The two creatures, a powerful force of light and a terrible force of darkness, fly together in a titanic clash.  The shadow attempts to disarm the angel but fails, and she hacks at it but misses!  They continue to struggle in the air, Azekia’s sword slashing and jabbing and the creature seeming to strike with darkness itself.  Drelvin and Sybele keep up a barrage of arrows at it, trying desperately to destroy the terrible thing, and Thrush joins them.  

Rex, meanwhile, swoops down and grabs Angelfire, who is screaming in terrible agony.  She can’t help but think of the irony- not so long ago, she’d have loved swimming in hot lava.  But it’s all a red haze of pain now!  As Rex grabs on to her, the molten rock splashes him, and as he lifts her free he feels more hiss and sizzle and stick to his flesh.  “Rrraggh!” he cries as the hot rock sears his body.  But if he doesn’t help her, Angelfire will _die!_  Rex perseveres, carrying her up to the top and dropping her before Verzavi, who starts trying to pull the molten rock off of Angelfire with her bare hands.  

Then Rex springs forward towards the dark shadow.  Ulla, too, moves forward, turning into a medium air elemental.  Angelfire’s screams echo behind them as she desperately clears the magma clinging to her.

So far it seems to have the advantage.  This impression is magnified when it finally manages to pluck the solar’s sword from her grasp and contemptuously crushes it between its black hands.

_*Next Time:*_ Will our heroes turn the tables on the dark shadow?  Stay tuned and find out!


----------



## the Jester

*The Dark Shadow*

Azekia the Solar gives out a shocked cry of rage as the twisted remains of her heavenly blade clang to the ground.  The Dark Shadow chuckles as it sees the look on her face.  Angelfire’s screams echo in the background.

“Dexter’s nadlies!” swears Drelvin, whipping Shastruth from his sheath and pointing him forward.  The sorcerer sword unleashes a burst of _magic missiles_ at the darkness, but the missiles fail to harm the monstrous thing before him.*

Then Patyn unleashes a positive energy burst.  Brilliant white energy swells from within the hunter of the dead, flashing out to sear the dark shadow badly.  The thing seems to momentarily cringe back from the blast, and the hunter of the dead uses his cloak to _dimension door_ to behind the monster, into a flanking position with Azekia.  Arrows and flaming missiles are flying at the party’s adversary, but it’s still holding its own.  

“Watch out, the hallway’s swinging back up!” cries Ulla.  Suddenly Patyn is in a position to be crushed.  

Azekia grimaces.  “I _wish_ we have time to finish this fight before the hall squishes any of us!” she cries.  Then she grunts as the dark shadow touches her, sending a shock through her celestial body- pure negative energy boiled in hate smashes at her essence!  Patyn, just on the other side of it, aims a few blows at the shadow, but his blade slices through it ineffectively, as if it were air.

Then Verzavi and Angelfire are lunging in, the lava on the Coilite finally pulled free or cooled enough to be bearable, and then Rex springs in, slashing, darting, retreating; and Ulla, now in stone golem form, stomps forward, slapping at it with her powerful arms.  The whole group is piling on it.  Suddenly the situation has changed badly.  The shadow fights terrifically, but another positive energy burst blasts it into oblivion.

Quickly, the group retreats into the part of the hall that didn’t swing down.  After a moment’s discussion, the group decides to attack the hinge.  It’s hidden out of sight below the hall itself, so our heroes are forced to dig (Ulla turns into an umber hulk).  It takes only a few moments to reach it, and then a few more moments to destroy it.  As they break apart one side of the hinge, the strain on the other slowly bends the stone, and breaking it apart at that point becomes an easy matter.  The trapped section of hallway falls into the immense pool of lava below, landing with a tremendous splash of glowing molten rock and quickly sinking below the surface.  Warmth wafts up to the party from the great lava pool.

“We should search around in here,” Rex says.  

“You’ve got the wings,” Thrush replies wryly.

Indeed he does.  Rex takes a flight around the chamber.  Giving it as thorough of a go-over as he can, he doesn’t find anything of note- no obvious exits or features, except for the pool of lava.  He returns to the group and informs them of his lack of finding.

“Too bad I don’t have the wings,” Drelvin comments.  “We elves are good at finding secret stuff.”  Rex rolls his eyes.

The group stops for a moment to discuss their next move.

“Where haven’t we been?” Drelvin starts.

“There are those other two arches,” Ulla suggests.

“But going through them would be baneful,” Azekia says sternly.  “I performed an _augury_ on each one.  I do not think there is a benefit to be had from them, only sorrow.”

“Where else?” persists Drelvin.

“There’s the crawlway into the side of that pit that Lester found,” says Sybele.  “And there might be more hidden exits from the room with the circles.”  

“Why are we here again?” Thrush asks.

“Felenga’s phylactery,” three people tell him together.  

“Is it here?”

“No,” Orbius explains.  “We have to figure out how to go through the mouth safely.  I think it’s there.”

The fighter laughs for a long moment before subsiding.  “It just never ends, does it?” he chuckles.  

“Where else can we go?” Drelvin asks again.  “Have we searched everywhere else?  What about all the pits?  We already found one secret door in a pit.”

“And we haven’t yet searched the pits before the lava trap,” Angelfire points out.

“Well, let’s do that first and then head back to the hall of circles,” Drelvin suggests, and the group agrees.  A search of the pits turns up a secret door.  “Well, great!  Let’s go that way instead!”  Drelvin grins.  Nothing like defying death on a daily basis.  At least he still has both legs for now. 

The secret door leads to a passage wide enough to walk two abreast.  The group moves through it and finds that the passage ends in what at first glance appears to be a blank wall, but even a cursory search finds a handle.  The wall slides to the side and the party finds themselves at a descending staircase.  Down they go- down a 10’ wide stair of narrow steps, dusty and cracked with time.  The stairs descend about 30’ and lead to a 20’ long hallway.  At the end, cascading to the right, is another downward stair.

“I notice a trend,” Thrush remarks.

Down our heroes go, and then to another hall; but this one is filled with webs.

“Er, webs, hrm,” mutters Drelvin.  

The party hesitates.  “We could probably burn them off,” suggests Ulla.

“Why don’t we search these hallways first,” Rex suggests.  “There are secret doors everywhere in this place.  Maybe there’s another way through there.”

“Why now?  We found one before.”  Cheerily, Drelvin pulls out the cusp and starts looking around while the rest begin a more mundane search.  Indeed, as he looks up the top stairs that lead back to the pit, the archer immediately calls out, “Over here!  I found one!”

The group hustles over to him and ascends the stairs about halfway.  It takes only a few moments to figure out how the secret door opens (it pushes out), and then our heroes are advancing down another dusty hallway unseen by living eyes for who knows how long.  Soon it leads them to another door.  Everyone hesitates.  Drelvin looks it over with his gem but sees nothing out of the ordinary.  

“Who wants to open it?” Ulla asks frankly.

Pause for a moment.

“Oh, fine,” Thrush sighs, and throws the door open.

Before the group is what appears to be a large laboratory or workroom of some kind.  The walls are lined with shelves cluttered with jars.  A large desk and stool, two workbenches and two large tables fill up a great deal of space, but the room is huge.  There are clay pots and urns, linen wrappings strewn about, dried herbs that have almost disintegrated over time, bones and skulls, canopic jars, and three large vats about 7’ in diameter and 4’ high.  The group starts looking stuff over. 

“I think this was a mummy preparation chamber,” Angelfire states.  She’s very interested in everything here- it’s giving her some interesting ideas.  Wandering over to the large vats, she finds Rex already looking into them.  The first appears to hold dirty water; the second, some sort of blue-tinged liquid; and the third, a bright green fluid.

“Look,” Rex says, pointing into the blue-tinged stuff.  “There’s something in there.”

Before Angelfire can comment, the dragon disciple plunges his arm into the vat.  “Ow!” he cries as the acid within the great vat starts to burn him.  He gropes around within the liquid and quickly pulls his arm free, some sort of key in hand.  He swears as he pours water on his smoking arm.  “Ow!  Dammit!  Ow!  Ow!”  

_I wonder if there’s anything in the others,_ Angelfire thinks.  Boldly she plunges her arm into the green fluid.  An instant later she screams.  Jerking her arm free she staggers back a few steps-

Her arm is starting to turn, very quickly, to green slime.


*At this point in the game, Drelvin’s player Craig looked at me and said, “I cast magic missile at the darkness.”  You may have heard the infamous audio track he’s referencing...

_*Next Time:*_The Crypt of the Demilich!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

I cast it at the darkness? 

Given your spoiler heavy post in General Discussion, I'm looking forward to seeing how all of this turns out!


----------



## the Jester

Yeah, I'm curious to see how it all turns out too...

As of now (in game time, not update time) things are _ugly_ for our heroes.


----------



## the Jester

*The Agitated Chamber*

As she watches her arm dissolve- it’s only going to take _seconds_ and it’ll _all be gone-_ Angelfire lets out another blood-curdling scream.  She hasn’t been in danger like this in forever.  

And then, against his own better judgment, Patyn steps forward and lays his hands upon Angelfire.  The Coilite screams again as the hunter of the dead’s paladin ability to _remove disease_ drives the infesting slime into oblivion.  

Patyn steps away.  Glaring at the _evil_ one he just saved, he can’t help feeling a little guilt (for saving her) and anger (because she’s clearly not going to be worth the trouble of having saved her).  “You owe me your life,” he growls, and turns away.  

Gasping, Angelfire recovers herself enough to smirk at Patyn’s back.  “Here,” Rex murmurs, giving Angelfire a potion of _lesser restoration._  She has a little trouble opening it with the Deleter on, but she doesn’t mind.  It makes her _powerful._  With the Deleter, she can defeat _anyone._  She sighs, tired from wearing it all the time.  It drains her, too, but she knows it’s worth it.  

There isn’t a doubt in her mind. 

Inspecting the room, our heroes find no other exits.  “There’s a lot of crap in here,” Drelvin comments, kicking through a pile of debris.  “It would take hours to search it all...”

With a sigh, they set to work.

The party is reasonably thorough; they search through all the jars and piles of detritus.  They burn off the green slime in the vat, and beneath it they find the other half of the key.  Rex, beaming, joins the two pieces.  “Good stuff!” he cries.  “Now we just need to find where to use it.  And I still have _another_ key we need to find out where to use.”

Thrush laughs, shaking his head.  “Well, there aren’t any exits.  Let’s check for secret doors.”

“Elves are good at that,” Drelvin comments, and true to his word turns up a secret door in seconds.*

“Okay, then,” Ulla says, amused and impressed.  “Let’s go.”  

The secret door leads to another stairway down.  “We keep descending,” Drelvin remarks nervously.  “I don’t like being so far underground.”

“This place is unclean... almost unholy,” adds Azekia.

At the bottom of the stair another hall leads away.  After a very short distance, the party comes upon a huge open pit full of spikes.

“An _open_ pit?” Rex says dubiously.  “I don’t like this open pit.”

“We could climb down,” Thrush starts, but Rex flexes his wings, grabs Drelvin, and flies him across.  Azekia likewise ferries Thrush across, and they fly back and forth until everyone makes it across.  

“I don’t like that open pit,” Rex repeats.

The group continues on, and the passage continues for about 100’ beyond the pit and dead ends.

”Another secret door somewhere?” speculates Drelvin.  “That’s a lot of corridor...”

“It might be in that pit,” Ulla says.  “We’ve seen that here before.”

“True... let’s search the walls first.” 

The group sets to work, and soon Verzavi cries, “Here!  A crack in the wall- yes!”  She digs at the wall with her yellow fingertips for a moment, then a section of wall pivots.  Crowding around, the group peers through at a small passage ending in a heavy-looking stone door.  There’s a moment of hesitation as nobody moves to open it, then Thrush steps up with a sigh.

The room that’s revealed contains rotting sofas, chairs, vases and urns, all yellowed and decaying.  Broken bits of tables, stands and braziers are jumbled in a pile near one wall.  Many small coffers and trunks lay closed.  Large tapestries adorn the walls.  Our heroes start to search, gathering up the containers that are locked (which Rex gleefully begins trying his key on) as they come across them

Then the room starts to shake, to agitate; and with a series of loud cries, our heroes are thrown down, staggering and falling as the place shakes.  

The party gets out- most dragging themselves across the ground, some flying out.  The room seems to subside as the last of them rolls out of it.

“Well, that’s pleasant,” Thrush says cheerfully.

_*Next Time:*_ Okay, so we aren’t at the demilich quite yet!  Maybe next time, though- it’s coming *soon.*  Come back soon for the _real_ trap in the agitated chamber, and then... the crypt.


*Drelvin ain’t real bright, and he doesn’t have many (if any) ranks in Search.  But boy, is it funny when this happens- I think he rolled a 19 or 20...


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

That's gotta be one of the luckiest streaks I've ever seen! He just keeps finding them, doesn't he?


----------



## the Jester

*A Deadly Trap (pt. 1)*

“This place _sucks,_” Rex complains.

Glancing into the room, the pile of unopened chests the group had started to gather is now strewn about again.  “No wonder the place was a mess,” comments Drelvin the archer.

“One of us should go in there and try to throw all those chests out here,” Angelfire suggests.  She glances meaningfully at Verzavi.  The githzerai gives a short bow and launches herself into the room, hurriedly gathering chests in her arms even as the room starts to agitate.  Turning towards the room’s entrance, she springs forward and hurls the chests out of the chamber, then almost loses her balance in the agitating room.  Leaping to the side, she recatches her balance mid-jump and lands in the midst of more unsearched chests.  Kick! –and two chests slide and tumble out of the room.  Then it’s another armload of them and another, the nimble githzerai moving fluidly and keeping her balance at all times.  Finally the githzerai sweeps up the last chest and sprints out of the chamber.  

“Great!” Lester exclaims, “Loot!”

Each chest turns out to hold a few meager coins, but they’re mostly platinum.  Again the visage of Orcus is found on one of them.  Again our heroes wonder where the currency would bear such a horrible creature’s face as the Demon Prince of Undead.

”Fortunately,” Patyn tells the group again, “he’s dead.”  And the grim hunter of the dead lets one of his rare smiles touch his face.

“Well, it may be difficult to search the place for secret doors, and I suspect that’s our next move,” Drelvin says wryly. 

“Perhaps there is something behind the tapestries?” Azekia suggests.  She spreads her glorious white wings and flies in to the chamber, up to one of the tapestries.  As soon as she grabs hold of it, the room starts to shake, and the tapestry- the huge tapestry- turns to green slime and falls, like a wave, over the celestial.

_*Next Time:*_ Watch out for waves of green slime!  And what nefarious trap is triggered when our heroes try to burn the stuff??


----------



## Knightfall

the Jester said:
			
		

> “Perhaps there is something behind the tapestries?” Azekia suggests.  She spreads her glorious white wings and flies in to the chamber, up to one of the tapestries.  As soon as she grabs hold of it, the room starts to shake, and the tapestry- the huge tapestry- turns to green slime and falls, like a wave, over the celestial.





Ouch! That's gotta hurt.


----------



## the Jester

*Trap inside a Trap*

Azekia the solar gives a terrible scream as green slime falls atop her from the tips of her mighty wings to the tops of her sandaled feet.  For a moment the party can only gape in horrified fascination.  A struggling mass, rapidly transmuting to slime, sinks to one knee-

Patyn springs into the room, ignoring the danger as it starts to agitate, and reaches out to the slime-encrusted angel.  Laying his hand upon her wing, the hunter of the dead utters a silent prayer to Galador and _removes disease._

In a flash of positive energy, the slime burns away.  Patyn quickly stumbles from the room, dragging Azekia with him, and the angel quickly returns the favor, destroying the slime starting to feed on the man’s flesh.  The two agents of the Light exchange a thankful glance. 

“Well,” Drelvin says wryly, “I know how to handle this!”  There’s the rasp of Shastruth, the archer’s sorcerous sword being drawn from his scabbard, and Drelvin cries, “How about a _fireball,_ Shastruth?”

“YES!” shouts the sword, and the sound of spellcasting fills the hall just outside the agitated room for a few seconds- then a ball of angry orange fire blossoms like a rose to fill the agitated chamber, burning the remaining slime away-

Or not.

Because instead, as the _fireball_ detonates with a loud roar, the slime changes instantly into brown mold.  The flame and heat only feed it, and in less than a second the mold more than doubles in size.  Our heroes can feel heat leeching from them.  With shouts of dismay, they fall back away from the mold.

“That sucks!” Thrush exclaims.

“No kidding,” Rex grumps.  “You can’t even exploit its weaknesses, it changes to something else!”

Scowling, Patyn asks, “Does anyone know much about this stuff?”

“It sucks heat,” Ulla says.  “It’s a deadly dungeon mold, usually called brown mold.  I think our best bet to kill will be with cold.”

“If that doesn’t just make it worse,” Horbin mutters.  

“Well, Shastruth,” Drelvin sighs, “what have we got?”

***

_Far away, in a darkling realm unlit by any sun, Acererak dwells beneath death.  If death is to sleep as sleep is to waking, the demilich is in the dreams of a state four times deeper still.  Here the vibrations of the Void, paradoxically still and quiet, sooth him like music would a mortal heart.

For Acererak burns inside himself at the _presumption_ of the interloper.

He has laid his own wards, taken advantage of the gauntlet that the demilich laid down in ages past.  He has secreted his phylactery there, among the icy dead of Moil, where only Acererak has earned the right to tread!  And somehow- _somehow-_ the interloper has managed to tame the Vestige!  

Acererak seeths.  

Around him the void roils in turmoil, like an inky fluid stirred by the passage of some terrible shark.

After his apotheosis, Acererak the demilich knows, it will not be merely the void around him.  The void everywhere will move to his whim, and the entire universe will shake.  Even the gods will tremble before him.  The interloper is nothing- a temporary irritant, nothing more.  The adventurers will doubtless deal with him; he fears them, plainly.  

And then, Acererak thinks, they will follow the clues to the Fortress of Conclusion.  After all, they are adventurers.  And to come so far as they have following the interloper’s clumsy trail- why, they might just be worthy fodder for the apotheosis.  And certainly, if they aren’t now, they will be by the time they reach the Fortress._

***

It takes just about everything cold they have, but the party finally manages to destroy every last vestige of the mold.  Gratified for that much, at least, they note a passage that had been hidden by one of the tapestries-slimes-molds.  Hurriedly, the group passes through the chamber (“Damn, it still agitates!” Thrush complains) and finds another downward staircase.

“Deep,” comments Thrush quietly.

Patyn grimaces.  “Let’s find whatever we’re looking for and kill this lich of yours,” he grunts.  

The group heads down the stairs.  In the lead, Thrush ponders, _What the hell are we looking for anyway?_  Yeah, yeah, Felenga’s phylactery- but _where?_  What’s the clue they’re looking for here?  And the riddle-

_The face of the fiend does more than devour,
With the least of my form ‘tis the gap to power_

-what does that mean??

The stairs bottom out in a passage that leads 30’ to a four-way intersection.  Moving carefully, the group discovers a pit trap at the intersection.  Smiling smugly, Drelvin comments, “I knew there’d be another trap!”  

Moving carefully, the group follows the passage straight ahead.  Again they manage to find a pit before anyone falls in, this one about 30’ beyond the intersection and directly before the hall’s end in a door. 

“I bet the door’s trapped too,” Thrush says.

Azekia grunts and opens the door, which, to everyone’s surprise, is not trapped.  Another hall leads away, turning to the right after some distance.  Following this, our heroes remain wary.  Suddenly, with a frown, Rex holds up a hand.

“Do you hear something?” he asks.

The group pauses in silence for a moment.  A sound is coming from around the corner- a beautiful melody sung in a sweet feminine voice like honey wine on a winter afternoon.

As one, the party readies their weapons, and they advance around the corner.



_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes have an unfortunate issue with drooling idiocy!


----------



## the Jester

*The Siren*

The siren sings her song laced with the joy she once knew, woven with her sad imprisonment now.  How long until someone noble comes and rescues her?  Her fey heart throbs with the desire for freedom.  Anything!  She would do _anything_ to be free!  She would even marry and love a mortal, love him for the rest of his short, sweet days.  Ahh, Oberon, to taste clean air again rather than these damned golden mists!

_Wait- what’s that?_

Her pulse quickens as she realizes that she hears footsteps.  

She wants nothing more than to give in and let the spark of hope flame anew, but she is afraid.  Afraid to have her hopes crushed, to remain in the damnable mists for another dozen centuries.  Oh, Oberon and Titania, to taste the clean air again, to feel the sun on her skin-!

But every time- _every time-_ it’s either the evil one’s servants come to torment her and make her weep, or a band of stupid, greedy adventurers.  Will there _ever_ come someone pure of heart?

She does not give in to hope.  Hope is a butterfly.  Each time it is crushed, its wings are more bruised and it is less able to fly.  She cannot let hope die.  If hope dies, if she gives in to despair, she will have given the evil one a victory greater than any other he may have had.  For though he may have crushed many a mortal spirit, she is a fey.  She _is_ hope, in a very real way.  And to let him take that from her- no.

So she sighs and waits, hidden, in the golden mists, listening.

She hears voices- yes, adventurers.  Speaking Forinthian- well, at least she can understand them.  She cocks her head as she hears them debate what to do about the singing, and she abruptly realizes that she’s still singing now.  

“Hello?” calls an elven voice.  “Who’s there?”

The siren ceases her song.  Her pulse quickens- she can’t help it, damn it!  

She steps forward, her beauty radiant and splendid before these wan mortals.  Damn fool adventurers, no doubt.

There’s the elf- an archer by the looks of him, but with a sword in hand.  And a motley assortment of others- several in extremely heavy armor, one in robes only, several in between.  At least one wears the symbol of a cleric of Galador.  _Perhaps,_ the siren dares to think.

The archer grins at her sardonically.  “Hello there!  I’m Drelvin the archer and these are my companions.  Who are you, and what are you doing in this dark hole?”

Measuring her words carefully- for it is not worth the pain of trying to break the evil one’s _geas_- the siren says, “This one is here.”

There’s a pause while this impresses itself on the elf, then he says, “Well, uh, yes.  But who are you?”

Struggling to maintain her composure- hope nearly brings tears to her face- she replies, “There are things this one may not say.”

“Uh... okay.”  Drelvin looks to his companions.  “A little help here, guys?”

“What’s up with the mists?” Angelfire asks.

“Some places are not safe.”

“She’s neither undead nor evil,” one of the heavily armored ones reports to the others.  He seems suspicious, but like the cleric he wears the symbol of the Light.  Not friendly to her kind, but much better than the evil one- and much more likely to free her than simply kill her.  And is that an _angel?_

_Oh please,_ the siren thinks yearningly.

“What are you doing here?  Are you trapped here?” Drelvin tries again.

“Some remain here,” the siren says.  If only she could tell them what she needs to tell them, or move forward and touch them!  But no.  She stands a full ten feet from the strangers.  And besides, she knows the ways of adventurers.  She has been... mistreated... by them before. 

And, as she remains here, they’ve never done her any good.

Still, hope beats its wings.  

“What’s in that room with you?  Is there treasure?” the one who appears to be a half-dragon asks, his draconic greed showing itself already.

“There are objects,” she answers obliquely.  Always obliquely.  Oh, to give a straight answer!

“Objects,” the draconian one sneers.  “Are there coins?  Magic?  Gems?”

She stares at him for a moment, her heart thudding.  Hope spasms and starts to plummet downward.  _Not again,_ she moans to herself.  “There are objects.”

“Can we go in there?  Can you let us go in the mists?” Drelvin asks.

She struggles for a moment, gritting her teeth past a flare of terrible pain in her temples, then subsides, defeated.  “Some places,” she repeats despairingly, “are dangerous.”

“Well,” says a fantastically beautiful woman slowly, “does anyone want to go in?  Or should we leave?”  The woman glances at the siren coldly.  She doesn’t look like she cares at all about the siren’s plight.

“But there are _objects_ in there,” the half-dragon objects.  

“Fine,” says the burly human with the greatsword.  “Go right in.”

There’s a moment of hesitation.  Hope is spiraling down into the tar pits of despair.  She’s seen this too many times.  Soon one of them will do it, and... 

Struggling not to cry- and not to show it- the siren turns around and walks back into the golden mists.  She hears the group break out into arguments for a few moments and allows herself a few tears, but only a few.  She flings herself onto her stone, big enough to lie on.  Two sacks are on the ground next to it.

Someone enters the mist. 

She can always feel it when that happens, like a spider feels the fly when it touches the web.  An apt analogy, in a way, she thinks sadly.  Not that she hurts them.  No, it’s the mist itself.  The mist is what does it- dumbs them down, makes them idiots.  Then, if she’s lucky, they’ll wander off and starve or fall in a pit somewhere.  If she’s not lucky...

The siren steels herself and wipes her eyes.  Not with an angel there.  It’s not possible.

 She can hear someone babbling like an infant- stupid, stupid adventurers.  They could have done it- it would have been so easy!  But no, and now they’ll finally get in and the greedy bastards will leave her here _again,_ just like every other time!

She’s furious, angry at them for coming, angry at herself for daring to hope- she knows better, mortals are all the same except the very long-lived, and there are too many others there for the elf to hold sway.

And then he emerges from the golden mist, sword in his white-knuckled hand, sweat on his brow.  Somehow this Drelvin, this hero, is resisting the _vapors of idiocy!_  Hope catches itself just above the ground and starts to lift again.

“What’s in there?” shouts a woman’s voice from outside- not the same as the mean one.  Maybe the big one?

“The lady,” Drelvin calls back.  Glances at the ground.  “And two sacks.”

“Treasure!  Grab it!” cries the half-dragon’s voice.

“Hold on,” Drelvin calls, then turns fully to speak to her.

“You’re trapped here,” he states.

She says nothing.

Drelvin stares at her, clearly puzzled.  “Are you enchanted or something?”

“Some have constraints upon them.”

“Should we blow her up, boss?” a tinny voice comes from the sword.

“No, Shastruth, shut up,” the elf mutters, and sheaths his sword.  “Sorry.”

“Not all are concerned.”

Drelvin looks around.  The pungent golden vapors smell like honey and cloves and, even though he’s so far resisted the worst of it, it’s obvious that his head is swimming.  _Please,_ the siren prays.  

“What is the purpose of this room?” Drelvin tries.  “Is this some sort of test?  What’s in those bags?”

“Things exist.”  She gestures at the bags.  “This one persists.”

The elf ponders for a moment, coughing at the vapor; then he asks, “Is there something in those bags that will help you?”

“This one cannot say.”

“Who can say?”

“This one cannot say.”

“I’m not really getting anywhere,” Drelvin groans.  “How long have you been here?”

“Dragons live for ages.”

“Did she say something about dragons?” the half-dragon’s voice calls again.

“Shut up, Rex!” yells Drelvin.  Then, turning back to her, he says, “I want to help you, but you can’t seem to help me help you.”  Wryly, he adds, “And I’m not the smartest elf on the block.  But I’m gonna see if there’s something here that can help you.”  And he reaches out and grabs up a bag.

She vanishes.

“Aw, crap,” says Drelvin the archer, holding some useless coins.  

The other bag’s gone too.

Glumly, he emerges from the mist and glances at the stupefied form of Angelfire.  

“I think I made a bad choice,” he remarks.


_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes journey onward and confront... the crypt of the demilich!


----------



## the Jester

*The Crypt of the Demilich!*

Angelfire can barely think.

She entered the mist and then practically had to be dragged out... and only her enhancements stop her from being completely useless.  While her _animal affinity _ runs, she's smarter than your average bear- but not by much.

Drelvin looks depressed.  "I think I messed up," he tells the others.  “I think it was some kind of test.  There were two bags and the girl- I think she was some kind of fey or something.  As soon as I touched one of the bags, she disappeared!”

“What about the other bag?” asks Rex eagerly.

“Sorry- it vanished too.”  

“Crap,” the dragon disciple mutters.

***

Our heroes return to the four-way intersection they had most recently passed.  As they approach it, they discuss which direction they should take.  “If we go straight, we head up and back,” Thrush says.  “Back leads to the stupid mist.  So that leaves right or left.”

“We should search for secret doors first,” Verzavi puts in, gently pulling Angelfire along behind her as she moves with the group.  “They are everywhere here.”

The group searches the walls carefully, but there are no secret doors that they can detect.  Drelvin peers happily through the gemstone lens the group obtained earlier but sees nothing.  Almost as an afterthought, he looks through it into the pit at the intersection.  Nothing.  He shrugs and almost puts the gem away, but then trots thirty feet to the pit before the door that led to the mist chamber.

“Hey!” he exclaims.  Hurrying back to the party, he tells them, “I found a secret door over here!”

“What?” Rex cries in surprise.

“Yeah, we elves are good at that.”

The group moves into the pit carefully.  The bottom is littered with a few bones and moldering bits of leather, but there’s no immediate danger apparent even to Orbius’ _foresight._  Still, he has a sense of foreboding.  Searching for the edge of the secret door is fruitless without the gem’s aid.  Rex pries at it with his draconic claws but can’t open it.   “Rrrr!” he growls.  “I wonder if this is where I use that key I found?”

“Hey, there _is_ a slot for a key in it!” Drelvin extends a finger.  “It’s here... wow, you can’t even really feel it.  If I couldn’t see it through the lens, we’d never have found it.”

Rex pulls forth the key he’s obtained and exclaims in delight when it slides smoothly into the invisible slot.  Slowly a section of wall pivots as if on a central peg.  Behind it is the musty smell of stale air and just a hint of decay.

“Well, let’s go,” Thrush says, and pushes on through.  

The secret door leads to a series of short halls that ends in a wide hall that narrows and turns to the right, where it runs out of sight at its furthest extent.  The dust here is thicker than elsewhere in the tomb, as if this area is especially sacrosanct and has not been disturbed in much longer than the other parts of the complex.  Carefully the group makes its way forward and to the bend in the corner, all of them feeling incredibly wary and on edge.  This place is clearly not safe- worse, it feels like the least safe part of an incredibly not-safe place.  This place truly is a Tomb of Horrors.

The hall turns sharply again after only about 20’, now turned around in a ‘U’ shape from the original wide hall.  It’s narrowed down to a mere 10’ passage, and it looks to zig off to the left again shortly.  

”Wait a sec,” says Drelvin.  “Before we go wandering off, let’s search all around here for secret doors too.”

“Good idea,” Patyn nods.  “They’re everywhere in here.”

“I find one,” Drelvin remarks, “just about every time I search.”  He winks.  “Elven, you know.”

The group starts to search.  Almost immediately- aided by his lens- Drelvin cries, “There!”

Just before the next ‘zig’ is another secret door.  It, too, is hard to open; but finally Rex and Angelfire lever it open.  And find themselves staring into a small crypt.  A pile of coins, gems and valuable-looking items, including at least one glowing sword, a rod and many other intriguing items, lies scattered before a raised stone couch on which are a few scattered bones, including a gem-encrusted skull.  Nothing moves.  All is quiet.  The smell of bone powder and dust hang in the air.

“Something is very wrong here,” Azekia says in a hushed tone, and slowly, carefully, the group starts to enter the crypt of the demilich.


_*Next Time:*_ Crikey!  Will our heroes actually battle the demilich??  Will they do the smart thing and run away??  The answers are no and yes, but not necessarily in that order!


----------



## the Jester

*Someone Other Than Lester Wakes Up An Ancient Evil*

_In a far darkling realm, brooding in contemplation within his Fortress of Conclusion, the demilich Acererak wonders whether these adventurers will be strong enough to fuel his apotheosis.  

So close, so close.

Soon- if only he can lure enough individuals that are worthy enough- he will transcend the meager limitations of skull and gem that restricts him now.  Already he has grown powerful enough to master his control within the Fortress; indeed, his spirit can take form there even as his former bones lie undisturbed in his crypt.  For, indeed, how often are his physical remains disturbed?

And then it comes- a sudden _pain._

Someone- perhaps those adventurers following the interloper’s trail- is disturbing them _right now._  Someone has actually managed to damage his skull._

***

The room has a vaulted ceiling about 25’ overhead.  Strange runes are scribed on the back wall- arcane-looking sigils but, as far as our heroes can tell, meaningless.

Carefully, Thrush enters the chamber.  Behind him, Patyn squints and shakes his head.  “It can’t be,” the hunter of the dead whispers to himself.  Verzavi glances sharply up at him from where she’s sitting the drooling Angelfire down near the bend in the hallway.

Suddenly, as Thrush steps over the threshold, a bitter wind springs up from nowhere.  For an instant that’s all; then a spectral form coalesces before Thrush with a frightful moan!

“Undead!” the fighter calls out a warning, and then that big ol’ greatsword’s in his hands, and _then_ he’s just inflicted a series of incredible blows on the thing!*  It seems to flicker for an instant as it’s lit from within by a _chain lightning_ cast by Azekia and a _call lightning_ cast by Ulla.

“Payton, what is that frickin’ thing??” Drelvin cries.  Arrows twang from his bow and into the spectral thing, arrow after arrow sticking into it as if they were hovering in mid-air.  Rex and Verzavi move in, the githzerai springing forward to land a blow and then springing away while the dragon disciple strides in and claws.  The spectral form tries to strike him back, but Rex dodges aside.  Then Thrush finishes the thing with a pair of fine blows.  

“It’s not over,” Patyn warns.  His voice sounds shaky.  “The skull’s undead.”

“What the hell is it?” Drelvin cries as Rex tumbles forward and breathes force at the skull without waiting to discuss it.  There’s a convulsion as the air in the room stirs the dust and bones shiver and the skull shows a tiny crack.  

And, suddenly, the skull’s bejeweled eyes start to glow.  

“Oh no,” breathes Patyn.  “It can’t be.  It’s just a legend.  I never thought it would be _real..._  I thought it was just a bogeyman they’d scare the apprentice hunters of the dead with.”  He sounds almost panicked.

_”What is it??”_ Drelvin demands.

“It’s the demilich,” Patyn moans.

The skull’s starting to levitate, dust and cobwebs falling away.  How long has it been since it moved?  Clearly decades.  It seems that someone other than Lester has woken something big and bad up for once.

“Well,” Thrush says cheerily, “I guess we know what happens next.”  He swings his blade but he feels a force deflect it as it nears the skull.  With a frown, he decides he’ll have to concentrate more on offense than damage next time.  The group is spread out, back into the hall; they’re starting to move forward but they still aren’t all there yet.  Thrush confidently takes his fighting stance, his sword held firmly in both hands.  He’s pretty sure he can handle this thing if need be.  He catches a glimpse of Ulla moving forward in stone golem form and quirks a smile beneath his helm.  That’s a good way to break a bone, all right.

Patyn arrives at the altar and triggers a positive energy burst.  He grins fiercely as he sees the skull take visible damage, charring and cracking.  “We must destroy it!” he cries, “It’s one of the most evil and powerful undead that exists!”

Azekia grimaces, then utters a great prayer to Galador.  She bestows a _death ward_ on Drelvin.  Just in time, too, for the skull of the demilich suddenly lets out a horrible loud wailing, and in one single instant slays Verzavi, Azekia the solar, and Rex. 

*From 0 to 104 points of damage in one round with no crits.  Yikes.  Thrush is _scary._

_*Next Time:*_ Holy crap!  Watch as Thrush loses that confidence and Drelvin gets more scared than he’s ever been (even moreso than when he fought a gargantuan at 1st level)!  Who will walk away??


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

I'm guessing the number of survivors to be pretty small, to be honest. Demiliches are incredibly scary.


----------



## the Jester

*The Battle Against the Demilich*

Angelfire gasps through her stupefaction as she hears the terrible wailing the demilich’s levitating skull emits.  As she watches, mumbling through her drool, a scattering of the party falls.  If she was any smarter she’d react faster, do more, _something,_ but numbed by the _vapors of idiocy_ her mind just can’t seem to make the connections necessary to propel her into battle.  _She can’t figure out what to do._

***

_Acererak is _enraged._  He can hardly remember the last time he was actually injured.  Well, it should all be over in a moment or two.  He transfers to his physical body and rises from his physical remains’ resting place, hovering in the air.  As he unleashes a wail of the banshee, Acererak gleefully notes that only three of the group fall.  Perhaps they will actually prove worthy!  But regardless of the possibility, he will show no mercy, for how else can he truly test them?_

***

Drelvin draws in a deep breath, draws back the string of his bow and fires a _true shot_.  His arrow sings as it zings into the skull, and it takes out a tiny chip from the cranium.

A tiny chip.

Gritting his teeth, Drelvin screams, _”Patyn, how do we kill this thing??”_  He’s terrified, and his terror only grows as Patyn doesn’t bother to answer.  _Oh gods,_ Drelvin groans inwardly, _either he doesn’t know how to fight this thing... or we _can’t_ beat it._

Thrush swirls his blade in a deadly figure-8.  The skull’s right there, it’s in the perfect spot, and the fighter is as good as they come.  His blow is textbook-perfect, and in his haste to strike it he hasn’t even adopted his horrendous combat style*.  He feels a deflection aura around it but shears through it.  

And his blade bounces harmlessly from the thing.

“We can’t take this thing!” he cries in a panic, starting to back away.  “I can’t hit it!”

The skull laughs as Ulla, in golem form, swings her mighty fists at it.  They deflect away off of some sort of aura around it.  Then Patyn channels again, triggering another positive energy burst, and the skull’s howl changes to a cry of rage and pain.   “Fool!” it booms.  “So be it- yours will be the next soul to feed Acererak!”

There’s a flash of dazzlingly-bright light from the gem in the skull’s right eye socket, and Patyn screams in horrible agony.  For an instant it looks like some invisible hand has reached into Patyn’s body and is stretching out a ghostly version of him, pulling it towards the skull like taffy.  The hunter of the dead gives an agonized yell of “Galador help me!”

And the moment passes.  It’s like the hand finally lets go and the soul of Patyn snaps back into him like a rubber band.  His hair has turned white, all of his equipment’s color has faded, and his skin is the color of bone- but he survives.

Drelvin poops his pants.**

“Is that... the best... you can do, monster?” Patyn gasps defiantly, swaying on his feet.  He can barely stand; his muscles tremble. 

Drelvin fires another _true shot,_ but this one doesn’t even chip the skull.  _At least it hit,_ he thinks grimly.

Thrush turns and runs for the corner.  “Flee!” he cries.  “We’re all going to die if we don’t flee!”  He stops at Angelfire’s drooling form and grabs her by the arm.  “Come on, Angel!”  He starts trying to tug her after him, but she resists, shaking him off- and suddenly notices the Deleter on her hands.  She frowns, puzzled for a moment, trying to figure something out...

Patyn screams again as the demilich tries to suck out his soul again, but to the surprise of everyone he manages to resist again.  He’s staggering, retching, bleached white through and through, but he’s _still standing._  “I’ve got another one for you, monster,” he gasps, and another positive energy burst explodes from his body, charring and crackking the skull.  _That has to be enough,_ he prays, _because I don’t have the strength left for another..._

As the radiance dims, the skull howls in triumph.  It has survived.  “Fool!” the demilich cries.  “Your time is up!  You are mine!”



*Basically, he wasn’t power attacking, it was his first attack, and he rolled a natural 19.  The only way he could have topped that was a natural 20 on one of his first couple of attacks.  (We use the “natural 20 counts as a 30” variant on attack rolls.)

**That is exactly what his player said after Patyn got ‘bleached’ (except substitute a non-grandma friendly word for ‘poop.’




_*Next Time:*_ The conclusion to the battle with the demilich!  Our heroes are in trouble, especially now that Patyn's out of PEBs!  What will they do???


----------



## the Jester

*The Battle Against the Demilich, conclusion!*

The skull is cracked and smoking from the massive amount of positive energy it’s been blasted with, but it’s not falling apart; it doesn’t look good for our heroes.  The gems in the skull’s eyes and teeth flash and shine angrily as the demilich cackles with malevolent glee.  “Now you will all die!” it shrieks.

Ulla’s been thinking hard, and now that Thrush is out of the way she has just enough room to try the only desperate plan she can come up with.  She can’t hit it, but she might be able to engulf it!  Turning into a massive ooze, she wraps herself around the skull, hoping her acid will hurt it when nothing else really will.  The skull’s jaw chatters in surprise, but it is unharmed.  Ulla, however, feels negative energy course through her at the touch of the skull and burbles in pain, turning into an air elemental and flying quickly away.  

Thrush is still trying to get Angelfire to flee, but she shakes him off.  What was she just-?  The vapors have made her too stupid to figure out what to do!  She howls in anger, then looks into the crypt where her friends are fighting the little skull.

As if on automatic pilot, her arms lift and point at it.  Of course that’s what she needs to do!  The Deleter is _always_ the anwer.

A bolt of crackling indescribable color shoots into the room at the skull.  Unfortunately, it deflects away from it harmlessly, not even making contact!  Angelfire stumbles to her feet, feeling the wracking negative energy continue to build in her body- and she feels her mind _slip._  Something... she doesn’t know, can’t understand due to the influence of the vapors.  Only her magical enhancements to intelligence allow her to act and think at all!

Drelvin moves forward, ignoring the smell in his drawers, and aids Patyn.  He figures that the hunter of the dead is the last of them to have any chance of beating the demilich since Drelvin’s own arrows are having minimal effect at best.  And Patyn is moving forward grimly, all the color bleached from him.  He’s counting on one thing- the _true strike_ he can trigger from his gauntlets.  And he’s praying to Galador with all the faith and strength of will that he can muster, because he knows that he can’t resist the skull’s power a third time.  Yet all he can think is, _If I can destroy it, it dies the _true death!_  I must succeed, I must!_

He strikes.

The _true strike,_ Drelvin’s aid, the power of his faith and his smiting- all of these together are enough to burst through the skull’s defenses.  _Barely_ enough, but enough is all it takes.

His blade slams down onto the demilich with startling force and the laughing changes to a scream of rage and hate.  The skull’s eyes glow a burnished red.  The damage is significant- if he can only land another blow like that-!  

But he won’t have time, short of a miracle.  He steels himself to resist the skull’s terrible soul-sucking power, and sways on his feet.  There are spots before his eyes already, but he squints and raises his blade in righteous wrath.  _Come on then,_ he snarls to himself.  _Let’s see if you can stay the course, Patyn._

“Fools!” the skull snarls.  “We are not done!”  And a series of syllables issues from its mouth- and it vanishes.

“It _plane shifted!_” cries Drelvin’s blade.  

Patyn blinks.  Thrush cautiously looks back at the rest of the group.  Angelfire drops her hands. 

Silence.  

Angelfire shuffles forward and starts putting her companions’ bodies in her bag of holding.


_*Next Time:*_ Looting and moving on!


----------



## Greybar

oooh, nice close one.  It sure sounds like they barely scraped out of that.  But did they realize how close they were, or did their (in-character) overconfidence get in the way...

(dead solars aren't much fun)

john


----------



## the Jester

Greybar said:
			
		

> oooh, nice close one.  It sure sounds like they barely scraped out of that.  But did they realize how close they were, or did their (in-character) overconfidence get in the way...
> 
> (dead solars aren't much fun)
> 
> john




Oh, they realized it- but their overconfidence did indeed get in the way.

I'd say the loss of Azekia has had some significant effects of the party, too... there's nothing like having the unbeatable force on your side to make everything smoother.


----------



## Xavim

Great work but I'm curious about one thing.  You very rarely if ever have the Solar making use of thier Arrows of Slaying.  Did they axe them in 3.5?  Seems that the fight vs. the Balor would have been immeasurably easier with those arrows.


----------



## the Jester

Xavim said:
			
		

> Great work but I'm curious about one thing.  You very rarely if ever have the Solar making use of thier Arrows of Slaying.  Did they axe them in 3.5?  Seems that the fight vs. the Balor would have been immeasurably easier with those arrows.




The problem is the save DC on an arrow of slaying is really quite low.  They're best for mowing through mooks rather than targeting the big bad guys- and balors ain't mooks.


----------



## wolff96

Wow.

I stumbled across your story hour today during a boring day of work and read the whole thing.

All I have to say is that this is incredibly cool. I love the description of the battle with the demilich -- especially the attempt to rip away Patyn's soul. 

I look forward to reading more as you update.


----------



## the Jester

For the record, the party members present the game of the battle with the demilich were:

Sybele (fighter 8/psion 9/warrior of Chaos 2)
Drelvin (fighter 6/order of the bow initiate 9)
Angelfire (psychic warrior 14/cleric 4/templar 2)
Patyn (paladin 6/hunter of the dead 10)
Thrush (fighter 20)
Ulla (druid 6/shifter 10)
Rex (monk 5/sorcerer 1/dragon disciple 10)


----------



## the Jester

*Looting and the Gargoyle*

“Good lord,” Thrush remarks.  “Look at all that.” 

The heroes have piled the demilich’s hoard together and cast a _detect magic_ on it; and there’s a lot of loot to be had- nearly a hundred gems!- and it will take a while to identify it all properly.   Drelvin sticks it in his _bag of holding_ for future research and division.  Speaking only of magic, the hoard holds a dozen potions, six scrolls, a black iron ring set with a cat’s eye, a thin iron rod about 2 ½ feet long graven with closed fists, a staff of black, fire-hardened oak with an efreet painted in red and yellow, circling the staff’s length like a serpent, a pair of fine boots of fuzzy dark blue velvet with a lightning bolt along the outside edge of each, a red-and-black cloak with a spider web motif on it, a fine black leather top hat, three swords and a small-sized longspear.

“Whew,” Drelvin says.  “It almost makes it worth it.”  He chuckles.  Patyn glances sharply his way, but the archer is busy loading up coins into his bag- there must be 50,000 gp value in coin alone here!

“Now what?” wonders Ulla.

“We could get the hell out of here,” Thrush suggests.

“No!” Patyn barks.  “We will lose all the progress we’ve made!  To have to fight our way through a phalanx of prepared demons and undead- well, I doubt whether it will be so easy a second time, since they are prepared for us.  We should rest here, if anything, and continue.”

“Are you crazy?” Drelvin interjects.  “That skull could be back any time.  I don’t want to fight it again!”

“But we _must,_” Patyn answers.  “If we don’t go to it, it will surely seek us out and destroy us.”

“Just like everybody else,” Sybele comments.  “Just what we need, yet another ultra-powerful enemy.”

“Why doesn’t Horbin _true resurrect_ them, and then we can move on?”

“Takes time and spells,” Horbin says.  “Also, I don’t have fifty grand in diamonds for each of them.  Not for any of them, really.”

“I beg to differ,” Drelvin says, digging in his bag for diamonds from the hoard.

***

Rex opens his eyes.  For a few moments he doesn’t do anything else, but then he slowly gets to his feet.  He seems quiet and subdued.  After a few moments of introspection, he asks, “What happened?”
The others tell him the tale and he looks at Patyn with a new respect- and a sense of horror.  The hunter of the dead’s skin is pale, his hair has faded to an off-white color, even his clothes and weapons look like they’ve been rendered into black and white.  Though Patyn seems to have weathered the soul-sucking attempts without permanent harm, it was clearly a very near thing.

“Well, we can’t trump or teleport out of here anyway,” Sybele is saying.  “So we have to find a physical exit.”

“Why don’t we just backtrack our steps?” Thrush suggests, then immediately answers himself.  “Oh yeah, the arch of mists.  It teleported us.  Crap.”

“We should wait for the demilich,” Patyn insists.  

“I think we should find a way out of here,” Thrush mutters.

The party debates for a while, but finally Patyn relents when he realizes that he’s the only one who wants to wait for the demilich’s return.  So, after taking a few moments to check their weapons, make sure all their armor straps are tight and ensure that their spell components are in the proper pockets, our heroes cautiously venture back towards the upper levels of the tomb, towards the hall of circles, reasoning that there are many possibilities in that area.  “Besides,” Drelvin smirks, “maybe I’ll find a secret door.”

Prophetic words, it seems; for the elven archer- aided by his magical gem- does indeed find a secret door in that hall.  “We elves,” he crows to much rolling of eyes, “are good at this.”

Behind the secret door is a small cubicle, a quick search of which turns up another secret door.  In their confidence, our heroes lose some of their hard-learned caution; and as Thrush opens the door another of the damned spring-loaded hammers smashes into him.  With a curse the warrior steps past the trap into another cubicle. 

“How much you want to bet we do that over and over?” Thrush grumbles.  

Indeed, a search turns up another secret door.  This time Rex opens it and nimbly dodge the hammer.  Behind the trap is yet another of the small cubicle rooms.  The process repeats itself five more times before a tense Thrush opens a secret door to a larger room.  This one holds what for an instant our heroes take to be a twin statue to the three-armed gargoyle statue they already found, but one with all four arms still intact.

Then it moves, springing with a roar at them, and the battle is on.  It slashes Patyn badly with a claw, spinning to face Thrush as the fighter roars and rushes to meet it, and his greatsword slices out several times, cutting the thing across its chest, upper right arm and side, dealing humungous amounts of damage**.  Blood fountains everywhere and the monstrosity throws back its head in a terrible howl of pain.  Then the two are a blur of blows and counters.  

The drooling Angelfire raises the Deleter (or does it raise itself?) and fires a crackling beam of inexplicable energy at the gargoyle but it goes wide.  Perhaps her faltering intellect is to blame; perhaps the Deleter is not accustomed to aiming itself.  Who can say?  For now, all we really know is that the beam misses.

It doesn’t matter.  Drelvin plugs the monster with arrow after arrow, breaking its shoulder.  Patyn shakes off the effects of the gargoyle’s terrific blow to strike it back, and Thrush hews at it heroically.  It is a final arrow from Drelvin that finishes the beast, and our heroes stand over the body triumphantly.  

“That was cake,” Thrush comments.***   “Now what?”

A few moments discussion reveals just how depleted of spells and resources the heroes are.  They settle in to rest, even with Lester antsy about Felenga returning.  “We can’t just keep going,” Drelvin argues.  “Most of us are pretty badly beaten up, we don’t have any real healing left- I know you’re _geased,_ but we have to rest.”

So they do, clearing the blood and body party of the gargoyle and securing the two exits before settling in to sleep.

*For the record, the following is a partial list of the powerful groups and individuals with beefs with our heroes: the courts of Law, the half-dragon dragon they fought a while back, the Bile Lords, the Supreme Admiral of the Forinthian Navy, Felenga, the remaining Princes of Elemental Evil, Ferranifer and her Black Academy, Old Man Rhumy (a rakshasa sorcerer/legendary figure in Elven mythology), multiple empowered simulacra of some really, really powerful wizards and sorcerers... there’s prolly more, but I can’t think of them. 

**99 points of damage in three hits.  Ouch.  Told ya Thrush is scary.

***This was a CR 20 encounter.  Jeez.



_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes debate some more and find another clue!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Wowsers, it's awesome what this party can do when they get a lone creature in melee combat. It can be quite scary being up against melee specialists, especially when they're using greatswords and power attacking.

My 13th level fighter sometimes PA's for ten, and when he does it's at +17/+12/+7 for 1d8+38 damage. It adds up very fast.


----------



## the Jester

*Dust of the Demilich*

“I say we go back to the demilich’s crypt.  We _must_ destroy it, and I must be the one to strike the final blow.  Then it will be *dead* dead.”

Thrush sighs.  “We drove it off once, but going back is suicide!  And besides, that thing isn’t even our real target.  I think we need to get the hell out of here for now, and we don’t even know how to get out... so we need to find the exit.”

“I say we go kick some more ass.  Why retreat?”  Rex shrugs.  “Let’s get it on with whatever’s still here.  We can find some treasure and maybe even figure out that riddle.”

Obviously our heroes are debating their next move.  Three basic positions have been advocated; nobody wants to bend, nobody wants to go another way.  So our heroes vote.  And when it comes down to it, there’s a tie and a coin toss, and they head back to the four-way intersection of hallways where they found the secret door that led to the crypt of  the demilich.

“We’ve still got two paths to investigate here,” Rex says.  “Why don’t we check ‘em before we hit the crypt again?  If we’re lucky we might find something useful.”

The first door- naturally- is nothing more than a trick hiding a blank wall and a spring-loaded hammer.  “Dammit!” Thrush swears as he picks himself up after being smacked by it.  “I’m getting awfully sick of these hammer things!”  Grumbling, the group heads to the other hall and soon enough they find themselves at another doorway, this one leading to the right.  Opening it, they find a lateral hall that ends after a mere thirty feet, with a door in the left wall.  Nervously, our heroes approach it.

When Rex pulls the door open there’s a hissing sound.  “Gas!” he cries, starting to cough- and the door behind the group slams shut with a bang!  “Uh-oh!  I think there’s trouble coming,” the dragon disciple says, but as he turns to regard his allies he sees that, for the most part, they’re asleep.  Then he hears a loud grinding noise and a huge stone juggernaut has emerged and is rolling towards the unconscious forms of Ulla and Patyn! 

“Dexter’s nadlies!” cries Thrush. 

Rex and Thrush start beating on the thing immediately, but it’s already on top of Patyn and Ulla.  The two find themselves shocked into consciousness but unable to move- they’re being crushed to jelly!  Their screams, muffled by tons of stone monstrosity, chill Thrush and Rex to the bone.  It takes them only a few moments to destroy the thing, but by the time they do their two crushed companions are in bad shape.  After pulling them out from under the rubble, our heroes wait a moment while the hunter of the dead does what he can to heal himself and Ulla shape-shifts back to full health.*

Investigating the chamber behind the juggernaut’s remains, the party finds an empty room painted black with what looks like stars on the ceiling.  “Interesting,” Rex muses, but the group finds nothing else of note within.  

“I really think,” Thrush mentions casually, “that getting out of here is a good idea- at least until we can come back at strength.”

Patyn scowls.  “The demilich’s chamber first,” he grunts.  “We voted.”  And the hunter of the dead starts marching towards the crypt again.

“All right, all right,” grumbles Thrush, and the rest of the party heads after Patyn.  As they get closer to the chamber of the demilich, their pulses quicken.  The thing was deadly, far beyond their knowledge.  To face it again... Thrush shudders.

But, when they reach its chamber, it’s just as they left it.  No demilich.  The group spends a few minutes looking around, and just as they’re about to leave, Ulla speaks up.  

“Hey, look at this!”

The others cluster around.  She’s standing in front of the couch the bones and skull had rested upon.  “See?  Look here!”  She points at the couch.  “Look, even through all the dust you can tell- it looks like someone collected some of the bone dust at some point.  Probably years ago, judging by the amount of dust that’s layered on top of it since- but you can still tell.”

Puzzled, our heroes mull this new clue over.  “Perhaps we should take some too?” suggests Rex. 

“Good idea.  And maybe the demilich will come after us if we do,” Thrush says ironically.

“Or maybe it can be used as a weapon somehow,” Patyn replies thoughtfully.  “Or it might be something that can be used to develop a weapon.”  After a moment’s hesitation, he scoops some into a vial and puts it in his belt pouch.  Hesitantly, not sure whether they’re inviting attack from the horrible skull, Ulla, Rex and Thrush follow suit.  

“All right,” Thrush says firmly.  “We came back here and there’s no skull to beat up.  Now can we look for the escape route?  We’re going to need it sooner or later, and having a secure exit would make me much happier.”

Patyn sighs.  “I suppose we aren’t doing any good here, since the demilich is gone,” he concedes.  “Where do we have to check?”

The heroes list their options: two glowing arches of mist (“Azekia said they were both baneful,” Ulla points out), the web-filled passage, the crawlway that Lester found that opens into the side of a pit.

“Let’s try the pit first,” Rex suggests, and several of our heroes- Rex, Patyn, Thrush and Ulla- trek back to the chamber in which they found the three chests while the others wait in the room with the circles on the walls.**  “I’ll crawl down there and check it out,” the dragon disciple offers.  “Between my monkish skills and my wings, I should have no trouble.”  And he vanishes into the crawlspace.  

A few minutes pass, with the rest of the party enjoying a moment or two of standing still.  Then Rex’s voice echoes faintly from the crawlway.  _”It leads back to the hall with the face in it!  I think this is our way out.  I’ll secure a rope- *AAARGHH!!!!*”_

“Uh-oh,” says Thrush.

*One of the amazing things about a 10th level shifter is that, simply by changing form time and time again, she can regain hit points as if getting a day’s rest each round.  It’s not super-fast but it helps out if the group has any downtime.

**A typical example of the way we handle absent pcs.


_*Next Time:*_ The Debacle!  If you think you’ve seen our heroes get smacked around before, don’t miss this one!


----------



## Dakkareth

I'm going to delurk for once to say, that I absolutely love your story hour - high level goodness, much fun and the fastest update rate on the 'market'. Among those I read anyway 

Keep up the fantastic work!


----------



## the Jester

Wolf96, Dakkareth, thanks for chiming in!   I love to hear feedback from people, and it's always cool to know other folks are enjoying reading the SH as much as I'm enjoying writing it!

Wolf96, just out of curiosity, did you look at any of the other threads?  The 'Agents of Chaos' thread leads directly into this one. [/pimp]


----------



## the Jester

*The Debacle*

Blaesing has been waiting patiently for quite some time.  

He has almost infinite patience.  

They’ll come back- they have to.  There’s no other way out.  And when they do, he’ll follow them and wait for the right moment.  He’ll let his dread mistress know everything- and when she judges the moment right, the attack will come. 

He waits, squatting on his heels.  He waits.  His sword is naked across his knees, smeared with lampblack to keep it from reflecting any lights the fools might have with them, ready to spring into his hand and lash out, slicing through arteries and organs, letting a delicious feast out of their bodies for him.  He’s perched above a pit in the entry to the true Tomb of Horrors.  It is from this pit, according to Academician Drake, that they will emerge.  Drake... he’s another that owes them.  Depleted, surviving only because of his _clone,_ Drake is awesome in his anger.  The _things_ he’s trying to raise... well.  The skull itself is a fabulous gift to his research, but... Blaesing does not move.  He does not frown.  But he does not approve of Drake’s current turn, possibly because Mistress Ferranifer doesn’t either.

He glances down the hall, at the Great Green Face, the sign of the Devourer, and does not move.  He does not smile.  But inwardly, he is dancing at the thought of forcing one or another of the interlopers through it and into oblivion.  _Especially that damned hunter of the dead,_ thinks the vampire bleakly.  _He is the biggest threat, not the solar.  We can return from destruction at the solar’s hands, but not his.  He must perish._

Thoughts of blood and faltering heartbeats entertain him as he waits.  If he was giving to expressions of pleasure, Blaesing would shudder.  But he does not move, not a tremble, not an inch, not a breath, not a whisper.  The undead keep watch well.

Time passes...

Then, at last: a voice, coming through the crawlspace.  If Blaesing had a heartbeat, it would quicken.  He squats in plain sight, just beside the pit.  He does not move.

Grunting.  The sour scent of the dragon disciple.  And... behind him...?

Nothing.  

Blaesing does not smile.

The vampire can hear Rex scraping his way out of the pit, just above the poisoned spikes; and he can hear as Rex digs his claws into the wall of the pit above the illusionary wall that hides the crawlway.  He’s climbing up.  _Alone._  And he smells of blood and fear... he’s wounded.

A hand reaches over the top of the pit, and a moment later a draconian head.  Then, wings flexing, the dragon disciple pulls himself over the edge and out of the pit.  He looks warily around.  He spots the misty arch and the Great Green Face and his face splits in a lizard grin.

Blaesing stands up next to him, hiding in plain sight, and smiles at last.

Rex turns and bellows back at the pit, “IT LEADS BACK TO THE HALL WITH THE FACE IN IT!  I THINK THIS IS OUR WAY OUT!”  He pulls a rope from his pack as Blaesing sidles up behind him.

***

“I’LL SECURE A ROPE!” the dragon disciple yells.

Rex is about to turn around to find something to secure the rope to when something hits him from behind.  A blade suddenly stabs brutally into his shoulder, breaking it into five pieces in a single vicious blow, smashing him face down on the ground, his head lolling forward into the pit for an instant*.  Before he has a chance to react, the blade strikes again, stabbing him in the back of the neck, and he screams out a terrible hoarse cry.  

_Can’t even see him!_ Rex cries to himself.  He’s on his belly with his adversary behind and above him and surely about to strike the final, fatal blow.**  He does the only thing he can- he throws himself, bodily, head first, into the pit full of poisoned spikes. 

Using his unbroken arm to try desperately to slow his fall, Rex beats his wings, hoping to use them to brace against the walls.  Behind him he hears a low chuckle.

_Skitter, skitter_ as he scrapes down the walls, his shoulder screaming red-hot agony as he lands with his legs splayed wide to avoid the spikes.  Then he scrambles as quickly as his wounds allow into the crawlway.  “Trouble!” he screams, fear pounding in his temples.

Behind him, from the mist, Blaesing congeals, takes careful aim, and fires an arrow into the crawlway at the fleeing Rex.  It flies true and deadly, directly into the draconian form’s anus.  Rex howls, momentarily transfixed by the arrow, but he knows he has to fight his way through the pain and keep moving or he’s dead.

In his haste, he doesn’t notice the sly mist stream past him.

Scrambling out of the crawlway, he’s shaking and scared.  “We better retreat,” he cries, trying to extract the arrow.  He lets out a thin scream as he pulls it out and drops it, trembling, on the ground.  He starts towards the crawlway that leads back to the room of circles.

Thrush is a blur.

His sword slashes through Ulla with vicious precision, dealing such terrific damage that she doesn’t even have time to shift into a different form before he slam her through the chest with his blade, striking her down with a fluid motion that carries over into an attack on Patyn.

“Thrush!” Rex cries.  

“It must be the vampires!” Patyn swears, bringing his blade forth, trying to parry Thrush’s unrelenting attack.

Then Blaesing springs from the shadows from which he _dominated_ Thrush, and in a single deadly moment slashes Patyn’s head nearly off at the mouth.  The hunter of the dead collapses in a spray of hot blood and his lower jaw goes explodes.  Teeth and tongue fly everywhere. 

Blaesing turns with a smoldering smile to Rex.  Thrush starts advancing towards him.

“Drop your weapons and surrender,” Blaesing says sweetly, “or die.  _Now._”

Rex holds up his hands.  “Hey, look,” he cries, “I don’t want to fight you guys.  You guys have proven that you’re powerful... I want to learn from you!  I want to...”

“Shut up.  Pick his body up.”  Blaesing gestures at Patyn.

Rex hesitates.  Thrush takes a threatening step towards him.  The dragon disciple scoops up Patyn’s body.

“I will go through the hole first,” Blaesing sneers.  “You will follow, and the warrior will follow you.  Do not try anything stupid.  And haul him with you.”  With that, the triumphant vampire turns into mist and flows through the crawlway.

Rex has no choice but to follow.

He groans as he scrambles through the crawlway with Patyn’s body.  It’s quite a burden.  Fearfully, he follows Blaesing to the Great Green Face. 

“Look at it,” Blaesing hisses to the dragon disciple.  Thrush’s face is impassive, his sword still bared and bloody.  “That face.  You say you want to learn about us?  Look there!  Look, and see the beginnings of our teachings!”

Rex glances at the face, then turns to face Blaesing.  Things are feeling desperate about now, that’s for sure.  “That’s great,” he says.  “Maybe I can talk to your masters at the Academy.  I’m sure I have-“

Blaesing gestures to Thrush, and the big fighter starts to move forward.

“Wait a minute!” Rex exclaims, taking a frantic step back, Patyn held in his arms.*****

And he steps right back into the mouth and vanishes.



*Crit!  Sneak Attack!  Death Attack!  Ouch!

**I believe, at this point, that Rex was suddenly at about ¼ his hit points.

***Another crit!  Oh, and guess what?  There’s no dex bonus when you’re wriggling through a crawlspace!  Sneak Attack!  Ouch again!  I do believe Rex was down to 13 hp at this point.

****This reduced her to -18.  Fortunately, she has the feat Cling to Life, a custom feat in my game that lets you survive to a negative hp total equal to your level plus your con.

*****His exact words were, “I take a 5’ step back.” 

_*Next Time:*_ Crikey!  Things look bad for our heroes!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Um, if Thrush has been dominated, why does Rex have him in his arms at the end? Am I reading it wrong?

Incredibly nasty ambush, though. Bet the players were more than a bit worried!


----------



## the Jester

Oops, should've been Patyn!  Thanks- I'm glad you caught that.


----------



## the Jester

*After the Debacle*

“Let’s try to catch up to the others,” Lester insists.

They’ve just come awake in the hall of circles.  Lester is pacing back and forth, eager to get moving.  It’s an itch, the _geas_ is.

“We have to prepare spells first,” Orbius points out as he opens his spellbook.  “Soon, Lester, soon.”

“And we should fix the blubbering idiot,” Horbin says dryly, pointing at Angelfire.  “But I don’t get my spells back until evening.”*

“Perhaps I can do something about it,” Orbius offers.  “After I’ve studied my book for a time...”

A short time later, Orbius closes his book.  The Eye casts a _limited wish,_ returning Angelfire’s full sentience to her.  

“Thanks,” she says, then starts rummaging in her _bag of holding._  Pulling Azekia’s body from it, she tries to animate the celestial’s corpse.  Her powers are not great enough, however, and her spell fails.  “Darn,” she mutters, then puts the angel back in the bag.  

Somewhat at a loss as to where their companions have gotten off to, Orbius casts a _divination_, asking where they should go to find Thrush.  “Seek the three chests” is the answer he receives; clear advice!  He grins and the party begins crawling through the hidden tunnel to the room of the chests, Lester in the lead.  Squirming their way through the tight stone tunnel, the group grunts and inches along until finally the L’s head pops out the far side.

“Holy crap,” he breathes.

The room’s a mess; there’s blood everywhere, and Ulla’s down and cracked badly in stone golem form.  Thrush is in there, too.

“Lester,” he says.  “I’m glad you’re here!”  And with that he steps forward and takes a massive swipe at the L’s head.

Lester squawks as the blow smacks into his brow, and only his incredible toughness and long years of adventuring experience allow him to roll with the blow enough to avoid death.  He struggles forward, taking another blow along the way, and clumsily gets his feet under him in the room at last!  But then another blow to the head and he’s dazed for a moment, unable to think clearly or act!

_Sounds like trouble,_ Angelfire thinks, and _dimension doors_ into the chamber, instantly appearing in the far corner.  She grows a second pair of arms, thanks to her cloak, and whips out a massive falchion.  She is about to lunge forward at Thrush when the Eye, still within the hole, casts a _greater dispel magic_ on the fighter, breaking the domination instantly.

“Watch out, he’s here!” Thrush screams.

Everything becomes very confusing very quickly.

Suddenly Blaesing appears and Thrush is redominated, Lester’s sagging as the fighter hews into him again and again, and then the L roars and starts foaming at the mouth!  Blaesing is stabbing, stabbing, stabbing at the L, and both Lester and Angelfire are slashing back at him.  Orbius curses as his last _greater dispelling_ fails to free Thrush, then he casts a _dominate person_ of his own.  Seizing control of him, Orbius forces Thrush to back off.  He’s got _ultimate concentration_ up; he keeps Thrush out of harm’s way as he casts a _flesh to stone_ on Blaesing!  

And that’s it.

The vampire turns to stone.

Lester howls and screams for a moment, smashing at the statue a few times before finally settling down.  His eyes seem to clear.  Then, looking around, he says, “Whoa!  Sorry, guys, I kinda freaked out there.  I, uh, don’t know what came over me.  Sorry...”**

“What happened?” Orbius interrupts.

“Oh, no,” Thrush moans, “I killed them.”

“What?  Who??”

“All of them- Rex, Patyn, Ulla...”  He looks mournfully at the body of the shifter, still in stone golem form.

“If she’s dead,” Orbius says, “she should have reverted to her natural form.” 

“Let’s see.”  Angelfire pulls out a wand and, a moment later, Ulla’s eyes fly open.  

_”AAAH!!_  What-?  What happened?  Thrush!  What’s going on??”

“It’s okay,” says Lester.  “You were almost killed, and Thrush was dominated by stone-boy over there, but- well, you’re better now, right?”

The shifter takes a deep breath and starts changing forms, flickering from one to the next, slowly healing her wounds.  It’s a bizarre thing to see; it’s almost as if she’s made of flowing wax.  Eventually she’s much better.

“Gods, I made Rex and Patyn go through the mouth!  It- it disintegrated them...” Thrush looks down at his feet mournfully.  “Damn, I feel bad about that.”

“You were dominated,” Orbius tells him.  “You couldn’t control yourself.”  

“I need to be able to resist that stuff!” Thrush says angrily.  “That kind of crap happens too often.”

“First things first,” Lester says.  “Let’s take care of this guy.”

“Do you want to turn him back to flesh and try to get some answers from him?” Angelfire asks.

“No way.  This guy’s a vampire.  He’ll just resist until we kill him, then turn to mist and go away.  No, what we need to do is mess up his capacity to respond to us.”  The L turns to the petrified Blaesing and begins _stone shaping_ him, chopping off his hands (including his sword), destroying all his weapons, his boots and his cloak.  

“The trick,” Lester says with satisfaction, “is to do as much damage as possible without actually killing him.”

“That face is the key,” muses Orbius, thinking again of the riddle.  _The face of the fiend does more than devour; with the least of my form ‘tis the gap to power.  What does that mean?_

“I agree,” says the L.  “Let’s go back there are see what we can figure out.”

The group returns to the face cautiously; they know all too well that they might have a very limited time.  As they move towards it, Orbius puts an _extra eye_ on the back of Lester’s head.  

”That reminds me of when I used to have three eyes,” Lester says.  “Have I ever told you that story?  No?  Well, it came from Chaos.  A third eye, right in the middle of my forehead!  But then my head started to swell up, and there was a fungus growing on my brain, and my friends had to go inside me and kill it.  I wasn’t there for that, except in the larger sense of the word, since they were inside me.  But that was why I could see the spaces between the spaces, and the little fishy things.  Anyway, here we are!  The big green face!”

They experiment a little.  “Why would someone have taken some of the dust?” wonders Orbius.  They throw a little bit in and it vanishes as surely as everything else they’ve poked in it has.  

“Dammit, I just don’t get it!” swears Lester.  “There must be another clue somewhere- let’s go find it.”  

They discuss where their next destination should be; deciding upon the web-choked area, they start heading deeper into the Tomb again.

*Horbin chose 5 pm for his spell renewal time, I think because it often gives the group a second wind late in the day.

**Years ago Lester got a chaos induced effect that sends him into an involuntary berzerk rage whenever he’s wounded below ½ his hp.  It’s never happened before, and Lester didn’t even know he had that ability!


_*Next Time:*_ Short Rex and Patyn, our heroes encounter a powerful undead creature!  Does it stand a chance against the Deleter??


----------



## the Jester

*Crit With the Deleter*

Soon enough our heroes have reached the web-choked area, and they burn their way through the webs only to find an area full of gas.  It turns out to be flammable, as the L determines with a _fireball_ that triggers an explosion that deals minor damage to the party, and then our heroes descend even further into a sumptuous chamber, now smoking and blasted.  A solid gold couch, surrounded by treasure and chests, supports a supine form, even now stirring.  Then a loud voice booms out, *”WHO DARES TO DISTURB THE REST OF ACERERAK?  IT IS YOUR DEATH WHICH YOU HAVE FOUND!!”*

The creature is clearly undead- tattered skin stretched and torn across yellowed bone, with a few tufts of hair.  Runes and glyphs glow all over it.  Its eyes blaze like burning green coals. 

Thrush, ignoring its bravado, charges in and lands a solid blow to the chest.  The creature gives a startled ‘whoomph’ as its sternum cracks with a sound like thunder.  Then its striking back, launching a flurry of open-handed blows at Thrush, smacking him across the face, in the armpit and in the side.  The human absorbs the blows with equanimity; he’s _tough._

Orbius fires a volley of _seeker missiles_ at the creature, but it dodges most of them; only a single one explodes on it.  The others, little missiles of force, zip around and prepare to make a second pass.

Angelfire deletes the undead thing.  It’s a perfect shot; the jagged blast from the Deleter enters the thing’s mouth.*  The creature gasps, and screams, and there’s a sudden burning light as all the runes seemingly evaporate; and the creature keeps on screaming as new flesh seems to grow over its bones.  Its eyes grow back, its bones are shrouded in meat and then a layer of skin and hair; and the creature stands before them, alive.

Angelfire herself screams in a mix of agony and ecstasy as the Deleter channels negative energy into her, burning her mind with terrible force.**  She staggers, reeling, barely able to see past the black radiance spattering before her eyes... she shudders.

Thrush swings his sword in even as the L’s _flame strike_ comes down.  The man before them dodges the pillar of fire, but in the process he finds his nose cut off by Thrush.  He screams in pain as blood pours down his face.  Then Thrush slices his left leg off at the knee and that’s it; the man’s dead.

“Well done!” Lester exclaims.  Thrush grins.

They strip the man and start investigating the treasure, but as soon as they open a chest the place starts to collapse and they have to retreat back up the stairs.  “Oh well,” comments Lester dismissively.

“Now what?” Orbius asks.  “We still have one or two-“

Rex and Patyn appear.

Everyone’s weapons come out.  “But they’re _dead!_  I killed them!” cries Thrush.

“No,” says Rex grimly.  “We didn’t die.

“We passed through.”




*Angelfire scored a crit with the Deleter, which- as you can see- may sometimes have special effects on the victim, even if it’s not normally subject to critical hits.

**Poor Angel!  Here she takes 3 negative levels, 8 points of Con damage and 3 points of Wisdom drain.  The Deleter sure is tough on you... but you probably won’t willingly give it up anyway.  (Shades of Clambake’s Hat, anyone?)


_*Next Time:*_ Rex’ and Patyn’s story!


----------



## Greybar

8 points of Con damage??

Owiee, I hope that can be _restored_ and isn't a lasting effect...

Yowie.  The only thing more impressive than the action here is the rapidity of the updates.

john


----------



## the Jester

Greybar said:
			
		

> Yowie.  The only thing more impressive than the action here is the rapidity of the updates.
> 
> john




I try. 

I don't know if you saw/are interested, but I posted a mostly complete list of the sessions in my campaign in the Early Years thread... if you're interested in any of those stories in particular, post in that thread and I'll try to post the tales as best I can remember.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

I for one am most interested in this game! Particularly the Simulacrum Wars...that's got me intruiged.


----------



## Talix

WOW!  Really, really exciting game!    The ambush by Blaesing (sp?) was especially impressive.    

What I really want to know, though, is what was up with the Siren?  What is the backstory, and what could they have actually done to free her?  Since there's very little chance I'll ever play through this module, I'm dying to know!


----------



## the Jester

Talix said:
			
		

> What I really want to know, though, is what was up with the Siren?  What is the backstory, and what could they have actually done to free her?  Since there's very little chance I'll ever play through this module, I'm dying to know!




Well, I've modified the story somewhat for my campaign from the original module anyhow, but in essence she was bound to her cave of vapors by a powerful enchantment that prevented her from providing any but the most oblique answers to questions.  There were also certain temporal effects in play so that when either she or one the sacks was touched the other two would be shunted 'elsewhen.'  Thus when Drelvin touched the sack of coins she vanished (along with the other sack).  To free her, someone of pure heart (Good alignment) simply had to touch her.  Oops.  Well, they got a little money instead of a potential powerful ally.


----------



## Talix

the Jester said:
			
		

> Well, I've modified the story somewhat for my campaign from the original module anyhow, but in essence she was bound to her cave of vapors by a powerful enchantment that prevented her from providing any but the most oblique answers to questions.  There were also certain temporal effects in play so that when either she or one the sacks was touched the other two would be shunted 'elsewhen.'  Thus when Drelvin touched the sack of coins she vanished (along with the other sack).  To free her, someone of pure heart (Good alignment) simply had to touch her.  Oops.  Well, they got a little money instead of a potential powerful ally.




Heh, oops!    I assume she was compelled to go back and sit demurely between the sacks, rather than, say, blocking the entrance with her body?


----------



## the Jester

*Rex's Story*

“Look at it,” Blaesing hisses to the dragon disciple. Thrush’s face is impassive, his sword still bared and bloody. “That face. You say you want to learn about us? Look there! Look, and see the beginnings of our teachings!”

Rex glances at the face, then turns to face Blaesing. Things are feeling desperate about now, that’s for sure. “That’s great,” he says. “Maybe I can talk to your masters at the Academy. I’m sure I have-“

Blaesing gestures to Thrush, and the big fighter starts to move forward.

“Wait a minute!” Rex exclaims, taking a frantic step back, Patyn held in his arms.

And he steps right back into the mouth and everything vanishes.

There's a blast of frigid air and the dragon disciple, mouth agape, finds himself upon a long span of bridge.  It's utterly dark, then there's a sudden dancing play of light as the clouds above light up with a flash of lightning.

But there's no thunder.

It's freezing cold- Rex is already shivering- and very dark.  And totally, completely silent. 

Lightning flashes again.  Still there is no thunder.  In the momentary light, Rex can make out the tops of towers in the distance.  Before him there's some sort of slab with chaotic writing chiseled into the surface, but he can't comprehend the characters. 

With a groan, the dragon disciple lowers Patyn's corpse.  

Hell, he isn't sure it _is_ a corpse.  He checks, and to his surprise, finds that Patyn's got a pulse- weak, but there.  "That's a bit of luck," he breathes, and jumps at the sound of his own voice breaking the unearthly quiet.  He groans again as he feels the fatigue and his wounds; his butt hurts from the arrow that lodged in it, he's barely able to stand.

And it's _cold._

He tries to curl up and rest, but the cold starts to fade and he starts to drift off in a permanent direction, and he struggles back awake and picks up Patyn.  _I have to find cover,_ he thinks, _or we're going to freeze to death._  Slowly, trying to restore his circulation, Rex begins staggering off towards a tower.  His feet crunch on the ice below, but it's so cold that it isn't slippery.  It's like walking on a steel floor.

Lightning punctuates the darkness, and for an instant Rex thinks he catches a glimpse of some kind of large sinister cloud roiling in the distance.  He quickens his steps, finally coming to the entrance to one of the towers after what feels like an interminable period.  There's no door; instead, an opening gapes before him.  Heedless, he staggers in and starts following the curving hall to his right.

There's ice _everywhere._

_This isn't going to work,_ Rex realizes slowly.

He sets Patyn down and slumps against the wall.  _Got to think._

Slowly, he pulls out a potion and a scroll.  

Rex's sorcerous abilities are inside of him, but it is a side he hasn't really addressed.*  He hasn't the personal power to use the scroll unaided, and it's magic of a level far above his normal capacity; but it's his only way out.

He drinks his potion of eagle's splendor, hoping that it will help him enough so that what he's about to do won't turn to disaster.  Then he throws Patyn over his shoulder and reads _plane shift_ off of his scroll, praying it will take him home.


*He has one level of sorcerer.


_*Next Time:*_ Rex's _plane shift!_

Dm Notes: When we started this session, I made Rex's player sit in the other room by himself with only a black light for light.  I ran the others first for a while (the session before had ended when Rex stepped through the mouth) then went into the room with Rex's player and ran him for a while.  Back and forth, etc.  It made for some really cool atmosphere.  (I also thought about opening the window since it was _cold_ out, but decided against it. )


----------



## the Jester

*Rex's Story (pt. 2)*

Even with the _eagle’s splendor,_ Rex knows that the odds of mishap are quite high for him.  And a mishap with a _plane shift_ can be lethal.  And without the potion, he wouldn’t even be able to _try_ this.  

But he’ll die if he stays.  He’s in no shape to fight, and he can’t rest.  

There’s a sweet tone as the scroll takes effect.  Reality around him wavers and shifts and for a moment there’s a tremendous disorientation.  Rex has Lady Luck on his side today, it seems, as he materializes in a hilly area somewhere- has to be on Dorhaus, he realizes.  

He’s aiming for Var, but he knows that a _plane shift_ gets you within a few score miles of your target; so he doesn’t really know where he is exactly.  But that’s why he’s got wings.  He sets Patyn down for the moment, laying his body beneath a pine tree, then stretches his wings and lifts into the sky.

Hills... mountains to one side- hard to tell which, til he can see which way the sun’s moving.  There is forest in another direction.  

The weather’s nice, at least.  The sun feels good on his tired, wounded body.  His butt still burns fiercely from the arrow or bolt or _whatever_ that damned vampire hit him with.  And his back’s a mess.  He thinks, _I need rest... time to heal._  He sighs and continues looking things over, surveying the scene as it were.

Hey, a tower.

Rex descends, grabs up Patyn, and starts making his way to the tower.  He’s strong enough to fly even carrying the hunter of the dead, at least for a little while; and it can’t be more than a mile away.  So he pushes himself, wings straining to hold them both aloft. 

Out here, in the middle of nowhere, a tower.  Must be a wizard or something, hopefully someone friendly.

Lady Luck remains on his side.

A strange two-faced construct greets him.  It is civil and intelligent but simultaneously intimidating and threatening by implication.  It informs him that he has reached Arion’s Traveling Tower.

“Arion the Archmage?” Rex cries.  “Please, I would speak with him!”

“He is quite busy,” the construct informs him.

“Please, I am adventuring with his friends- Malford, Lester, those guys!  I need healing and then to go back to them.  Can he help me?”  Rex is desperate.  This is perhaps the best chance he has- and to meet _Arion the Archmage!_ _He’s a wizard who specializes in force, and I have a heritage of force,_ Rex thinks.  _I must meet him!_

“I will tell him, but he is very busy,” the construct says.

***

Arion the Glorious watches as the cryoxenthum distills from the alchemical compounds combining in the beaker.  The reaction was proceeding appropriately; cryoxenthum, with its ultra-cold nature, was a logical next step.  If it led in the right direction, they could soon move onto the next phase of the plan.  And then, the final phase: the takeover. 

“You have guests,” Marius the Enigmatic says vaguely.

Arion frowns.  There’s a knock at the door of the laboratory.  It’s his butler, informing him that he has guests.  “I don’t have time for this,” he snaps, but when the butler mentions that it’s a companion of Malford, Lester, et al, he realizes what an opportunity lies before him.

“I’d best leave,” Marius says.  “It wouldn’t do for them to catch wind of things too soon.”

“They already did, but they don’t realize the implications.”

“True.”  Marius the Enigmatic sighs.  “The loss of Marius the Great was a crushing blow.” 

“That’s why we should have each done what the Progenitor did first: spend ourselves to increase the power of the next generation.”

“It’s too late for that now,” Arion says firmly.  “The very nature of reality has changed.  Things do not work that way anymore.”

“And you think there is no way to recreate those conditions?” Marius asks with a smirk.  “Do not forget, my friend- you are working with the most powerful chronomancers the world has ever known.”

***

“You wanted to see me?” Arion proclaims as he descends the stairs, resplendent in bright blue and red robes.  “Do I know you?”

Rex babbles, “Yes- I mean, no- I mean, yes, I wanted to talk to you.  I am an adventurer who’s traveling with King Malford and Lester and- and Drelvin and those guys, and I had to _plane shift_ away from a hostile plane, and so here I am...”  He pauses.  “Also, we may have some similar interests, um, in force.  I am a dragon disciple of Brespicacious, an amethyst dragon.”

Arion cocks an eyebrow.  “And I am a force mage, and a master of the arcane arts.  Perhaps, another time, when I have time, we’ll chat about such things.  I, however, am a very busy man.  You understand, of course.”

“Of- of course.”

“I shall send you back to your party, then, so as to ensure that, if they have need of you, they shall have you.”

“But we need healing!  My friend isn’t even conscious!”

“Well, you’ll be with a party of adventurers.  Surely you have a healer.”  Arion begins casting a spell.

“But...!”

And that’s how we got to where we are now.



_*Next Time:*_ Lester _communes,_ then the party makes a very fateful decision.  Who will go through the mouth of the face of the fiend??


----------



## Knightfall

Another excellent update!

Dang, those Mari are everywhere.


----------



## the Jester

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> Another excellent update!
> 
> Dang, those Mari are everywhere.




Actually, all that bit is news to the players.


----------



## Knightfall

the Jester said:
			
		

> Actually, all that bit is news to the players.




So did they groan in pain? 

BTW Jester, check out this thread, if you haven't already. More World of Kulan goodness. Heh.


----------



## the Jester

*A Fateful Decision*

“So the mouth _doesn’t_ just disintegrate you,” Lester muses.

“Apparently not,” Thrush says.  “But I wouldn’t count on it.”

“There must be some sort of key, but what?” wonders Orbius.

“Well, look- I’ll try to _commune,_” Lester offers.  “I’ve been learning some meditative and oracular techniques from the Eye and I’d like to try them out.”*

And so, the L sends his mind into a state of communion.  He does not follow a specific god; he worships the powerful elements that underpin the material world.  Thus, his first question is not unexpected.

Who am I communing with?

The answer, really, is not unexpected either: *Yes or no.*

_Oh yeah,_ thinks a disgruntled Lester.

Am I communing with Malford? *No.*
Will Thrush and Sybele’s kids turn out good if they are raised by a retired Thrush and Sybele?  *Probably.*
Can the ill effects of the Deleter on Angelfire be removed while it’s on her? *Yes and no.*
Will Angelfire most likely resist if we try to take or persuade her to give up the Deleter? *Yes.*
Will a _shatter_ spell work against the demilich? *Unknown.*
Are there any priests in Var other than Horbin who can fix Patyn’s jaw? *Yes.*
Can Ulla turn herself into something that will protect her from the hostile effects of the plane Rex was on after going through the mouth? *Unknown.*
Will an _airboat_ work there? *Unknown.*
Will the demilich return to its crypt within a week? *Unknown.*
Has Ferranifer already rebuilt the part of the Academy we destroyed? *Yes.*

“Crap,” mutters the L.

Have they rescued the assassin we petrified? *No.*

He pauses and scratches at his beard for a moment, thinking.

Will garlic really keep vampires away? *Sometimes.*
Does Ferranifer keep her coffin within the Academy grounds? *Yes and no.*
Have the angels in Heaven noticed and accepted me as Malford’s angel of adventure? *No.*

“Aw, man,” he whines.

Are the forces of Heaven making headway in locating Prayzose?  *None of your business.*

“Hmph,” the L snorts.

Would they accept my aid if I offered it freely?  *Possibly.*
Can anyone in Var restore Angelfire’s full power while the Deleter is on? *No.*
If I cast a _stone to flesh_ on the hand carrying the vampire assassin’s sword, will it be restored? *Yes.*

“Hey, all right!” Lester brightens.  “Well, you guys, I found out a few things about a few things- mostly that nobody knows much about the demilich or that plane Rex went to, but the important thing is, I think I can restore the sword from that vampire!”

***

The Eye casts a _vision_ on the Tomb of Horrors itself, and when he emerges shaking from his spell, he tells them that he saw the party pass through the mouth and die.  “Just like Azekia,” Horbin mutters.

“Well, look, we already know that we can pass through, right?” says Lester.  “So here’s what we’ll do.  We’ll buff up, I’ll summon some elementals and we’ll go through.  We’ll use some protections from cold, maybe have Horbin _death ward_ us- Patyn, can you help with that too?- and then Orbius will use a trump to keep in touch while I go through the mouth and lead the way.”

Rex cries, “You want to go back through there?  Are you insane?”

“We should definitely rest first,” Ulla offers.  “Rex and Patyn need a lot more healing before they can go on.”

“All right,” grumbles the L, “good point.  But we need to get going.”  He keeps mumbling to himself, something about a _geas..._

Soon, in a little better shape, our bruised and battered heroes approach the great green face.  Ulla and Rex glance at each other uneasily.  

“Okay,” Lester says brightly, “buff up, everyone!”  There are a few moments of spellcasting, and then everyone is covered by a dramatic array of mystical protections and a group of air elementals has been summoned forth.  Orbius shuffles out Lester’s trump and concentrates on it until both card and elementalist shimmer with a rainbow aura.

“All right, guys,” Lester says to the elementals, “Let’s go!”  And he leaps bravely into the face of the fiend.

“Uh-oh,” says Orbius.

“What?” asks Drelvin.

“I just lost trump contact with him.” 


*Lester has taken a level in divine oracle.



_*Next Time:*_ Clearly, what the party needs is... the Advice of an Imp!


----------



## the Jester

*Advice from an Imp*

“I don’t know,” Thrush says hesitantly.  “I’m not sure we should just charge on through it...”

“No kidding,” Rex says.

“Well, Lester-“ Orbius starts.

”We don’t know what happened to Lester,” Thrush says.

“But Rex-“

“Maybe there was something special about Rex,” Thrush suggests.

“You’re crazy if you want to go through that mouth,” Rex adds.

“I know,” says Angelfire.  “Let’s get some advice!”  And she promptly sets out to call forth a _lesser planar ally._  In less time than it takes to tell, there’s a puff of foul-smelling vapor and a bright red imp appears.  A quick bargaining session later, the imp has been persuaded to help them solve the mystery of the face.  

”Well, what clues do you have?” the little fiend asks.  (He gives his name as Balthazar the bookkeeper.)

The party recites for him the riddle of the tomb- _The face of the fiend does more than devour; with the least of my form tis the gap to power._  The imp purses his lips and asks for the whole story, and the party relates a fair share of the details of their adventures so far since coming to the Tomb of Horrors.  He commiserates with them about their losses and pains, then asks if they’ve found any other clues. 

“Well,” Ulla tells him, “there was the dust in the demilich’s chamber.”

“What do you mean?” Balthazar asks.  

“We found- the demilich’s little cushioned pedestal, it had lots of dust from his bones.  But there was an area where it looked liked someone had gathered some up.”

“That’s why some of _us_ gathered it up,” Patyn throws in.

“Aha,” the imp says, rubbing his hands together, breaking out into a grin.  “That’s the secret, then.  And I’ll wager the two of you that ventured through and returned had some of the dust, too, eh?”

“I did,” Rex answers, and Patyn nods slowly too.

“There it is!” Balthazar cries.  “Well, what do you think ‘the least of my form’ is?”  The imp licks his lips, little wings flapping as his pudgy body lifts into the air and he hoots gleefully.  “Dust of the demilich!  With the dust, you can pass through the mouth!”

“Did Lester have any of the dust?” Sybele asks.

Orbius frowns darkly.  “No.”

Silence.

“Well,” the Eye says briskly, “no time for that now.  When we can arrange for Horbin to do it, maybe he can _true resurrect_ him or something.”  His face is set stoically.

The group pools their resources.  Those who took the dust took enough to pass some around the rest of the party, ensuring that everyone has a pinch.  But our heroes are nervous.

“What if you’re wrong?” Angel demands. 

“I’m not,” Balthazar assures her.  “Look, we’re about done here, so why don’t you pay me and I’ll be on my way.”

“We aren’t done yet.  We don’t know that you’re right.  Why don’t you come with us and make sure?”  Angelfire’s grinning. 

“No, that’s not part of our agreement,” Balthazar argues.  “You wanted advice, I gave it to you.  We’re done.  Pay up.”

“How about this,” Angelfire offers smoothly.  “I’ll pay you for what you’ve done, throw it a tip, and give you... hmm... an extra 5000 gold... if you’ll come through with us and advise us on what we see there.”

The imp licks his lips.  His barbed tail lashes like an agitated cat’s.  Finally, he says, “Okay, I’ll step through with you but if there’s danger, that’s it, I’m gone.”

“You come through in a safe place.  At least, I did.”  Rex shakes his head.  “But you’re all crazy to want to go back there.  That place _sucks._”  There’s a touch of fright in his voice.

“And you pay now,” the imp adds.

Angelfire hands over the money gladly, then gives the imp a pinch of the dust.

And they all go through the mouth.


_*Next Time:*_ The Vestige!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

These players are crazy!  Looking forward to what happens next...


----------



## Knightfall

Another great update, Jester. Too bad about Lester.


----------



## Talix

Well, that's a good way to make sure the imp really believes it would work.    Out of curiousity, what was the price for the initial help with the riddle?


----------



## the Jester

Long ago, there was a city that worshiped Orcus, Demon Prince of the Undead.  Orcus was a cruel and unforgiving master, but the people of his city were fervent in their devotion to him and were blessed with his favor.  

Moil was the name of this city.

One day, a new god came in secret to some of Moil’s people.  This god was almost the antithesis of Orcus; he was a god of the sun, of the light, of goodness.  Surely once Orcus discovered the new followers of this god he would crush them utterly; but they worked in secret, converting others to hope in secret hallowed areas where the name of the Prince of the Undead had never been spoken.  The following grew for several years before Orcus became aware of its existence, and then it was too late to crush it in one fell swoop.  He destroyed those he found and set hunters loose to find the rest, but they made more converts, secret cells of light-followers.  

The sun god’s following grew.

Eventually, they became powerful enough to oppose Orcus’ priests openly, and much street warfare ensued.  In the end, the city of Moil turned from its dark god and cast down the powerful cleric who ruled the city (he was called the Wand, in honor of Orcus’ dread talisman of power).

And Orcus was wroth.

As the citizens of Moil slept the night after their victory over Orcus’ Wand, the demon prince laid a terrible curse upon it: that its citizens should sleep until they see the light of the sunrise.

Then, horrible in his rage and power, Orcus tore Moil from its native world of Ranais and pushed it to the very border of the Plane of Negative Energy.  Much of the city broke away and tumbled into the Void as Moil balanced precariously above utter destruction.

“HERE YOU SHALL STAY!!” Orcus boomed, bluish flames burning all across his body in his wrath.  “FOR HERE THERE _IS_ NO SUNRISE!!  YOU SHALL REMAIN AS A TESTAMENT TO THE WRATH OF ORCUS!!!”

And with that, Orcus left the City That Waits to its terrible fate.

The Moilians froze over.  Negative energy seeped in to their forms, filling many of them with a terrible version of undeath, hungry for life force to feed upon.  Worse still, their trapped, dreaming souls, unable to escape, were bound up by Orcus’ curse into a terrible, terrible thing.

Icy cold, dark save for the strobing of lightning, utterly silent.  The hoar frost came, covering everything.  And Moil lay undisturbed for hundreds of years, until its discovery by Acererak.

Orcus, meanwhile, ceased to be; for he was tricked and murdered by Kiaranselee, a dark Drow goddess.  Alas, Orcus!  The balance of power in the eternal wars of the Abyss shifted as Demogorgon and Graz’zt turned their focuses on each other, leaving the goddess to pluck the pieces of Orcus’ estate like a vulture.  

All of which, of course, is a tale for another time.  Our heroes find themselves atop a dark bridge.  Before them is a huge stone scrawled with seemingly chaotic runes.  There is no sign of the L.

“Abyssal,” comments the imp with a glance at the stone.  “I’ll translate for you for an additional 2500 gp...”  He smiles wickedly at Angelfire.

She asks, “How much to stick around and help us out?”

“Hells, no,” the imp chuckles.  “I’m going to advise you and get out of here.  But, as I said, I’ll also translate for a small additional fee...”

Angelfire forks it over good naturedly.

“It’s in Abyssal,” the imp declares.  “There’s a poem- no!  A song!  Here, I’ll sing it!”  He clears his throat and begins in a mocking sing-song voice-

_”This City That Waits-“_

He stops.  “Actually, there’s an intro first.  Here, this is what that says- ‘Acererak is impressed; you now stand under the darkling sky that most never dreamt of.  Your only path is forward through this crumbling demiplane of broken piety.’  Oh, broken piety- good one.  This guy’s good!  Anyway, it goes on, ‘The journey shall task you to your mortal limits.  However, this verse may help you on your way to me within the Void, where you shall receive a fitting prize for your persistence.’”

Then, resuming his sing-song voice, the imp mockingly sings,

_”This City That Waits was the city of Moil,
Where dreams truly died, but bodies yet toil,
In slumber unrelenting they lie yet in wait
Biding their time to seal your fate.

Discovery of the Void-_ that’s capitalized, and so it the first bit, about the City That Waits- anyway,_
Demands exploration through peril again.
Find amid towers degenerate the single key
And resolve the dilemma of problems three.

Beard the brine dragon in its frozen hollow; 
Remove the key, avoid its starved swallow.
Beneath webs of glowing emerald 
Hangs a riddle-box, ripe to be solved._  Man, this guy’s great!  I wonder if he’s done any more songs!

_The darkweaver endures the cold in her lair; 
Grasp your fate with consummate care. 
The lifeless dream that marks the crime 
Is the Vestige that guards the sand of time.

Each resolution removes one obstacle
For those who pursue this written oracle; 
The Phantom released flies you in fashion
To my inevitable Fortress of Conclusion._  Fortress of Conclusion, wow, what a cool name!  This guy’s great!  I’d like to meet him, you know?” 

“Great,” says Horbin.  “You know-“

“As to my advice,” Balthazar interrupts, “this looks to me like a demiplane.  It could have its own weird rules or characteristics, but that looks nasty down there.”  He gestures down at the blackness below the bridges.  “I’d stay out of it if I were you.  This place sounds gloomy- I think the name Moil had something to do with Orcus once.”

“Like that currency we found,” Drelvin comments.

“Maybe it’s from here?” Horbin wonders.

Grinning, the imp adds, “Gotta go,” and he vanishes.

“You know,” Horbin comments, “We didn’t need him for that.  I have my helm- it shows me subtitles under writing.  I could’ve translated that for us.”

Angelfire shrugs cheerfully.  She liked that little fellow.  He was pretty darn helpful.

The party turns to regard the City That Waits before them.  In a flash of lightning, Angelfire thinks she catches a glimpse of something moving in the distance, but it’s gone when she looks again.  Shrugging to herself, she winces momentarily as the Deleter suddenly provokes sharp pains in her hands.  Still, she knows it’s for the best; the Deleter will make her so powerful, powerful beyond measure.  She _knows_ it!  She merely must unlock its hidden powers.

“Well, let’s get to it,” says Thrush, looking all around.  There are towers piercing the blackness around them; storm clouds roil above.  Silent flashes of lightning punctuate the darkness.  The party carries a number of lights; they can see near at hand three bridges.  

In the distance, a terrible, terrible thing sees them.


_*Next Time:*_ Attack of the Vestige!


----------



## Knightfall

Awsone update, Jester. So did you get up, prance around, and sing as the imp. Heh.   

BTW, I've added Cat Races, Avian Races, and Dragon Races to my World of Kulan Thread in the Rogues Gallery.

Cheers!

KF72


----------



## the Jester

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> Awsone update, Jester. So did you get up, prance around, and sing as the imp. Heh.




I did sing in a high-pitched, mocking, sorta Mexican accented voice... it was very fun!


----------



## the Jester

*The Vestige*

Flying through one contrivance or another, our heroes lift off from the cold dark bridge and start heading towards a large, ominous-looking tower.  Then Verzavi points off at an angle and calls, “Movement!”

The party looks and sees a vision out of nightmare.

Roiling clouds of vapor, gigantic in size, an entire bank of fog comes twisting through the strobe-lit sky of Moil.  Within are thousands of faces, screaming in unending suffering- the spirits of the dead of the City That Waits.  Terror, agony, remorse and hate fill the faces; and the misty Vestige of all the evil of Moil slithers through the air towards our heroes.  

“What the hell is _that?_” Thrush cries.  He’s never seen anything like it.  His sword seems to leap into his hands and suddenly he’s standing in a fighting stance, ready to strike once it’s in range.

An arrow whizzes by, fired by Drelvin, as the party starts to ready themselves for the thing’s onslaught.

It’s terrifying.

As it moves forward, the Vestige extrudes tendrils of screaming-faced vapors.  As it closes, the party can suddenly hear the terrible cries of the souls within it.  Thrush shudders, but as soon as one of the tendrils reaches towards him he slashes at it.  It quivers for an instant, than drops down to caress him on the top of the head.  

“Urk,” Thrush says, and he starts dropping like a stone towards the blackness below.* With an exclamation, Horbin flies after his falling form.

The Vestige rolls forward over Verzavi, and in an instant she, too, is falling towards the black mists.  Then a palpable wave of menace smashes out into the entire party (save only Horbin, who’s below the thing, chasing Thrush), and the party breaks as one.  Only Patyn stands fast, protected by his holy courage.

The hunter of the dead takes a gamble.  It _looks_ undead, and he doesn’t have time to stop and check in.  So he channels, and a burning flash of positive energy fills him to overflowing.  The brilliant flash of light tears great gouges in the Vestige, 

But it’s _huge._  Far too big for a single positive energy burst to be enough to wound it significantly.  And as Patyn watches, the rents his burst tore in it start to close with disquieting speed.

_I can’t take it alone,_ he realizes grimly.  And, against his every instinct, he flees.

The Vestige descends on Horbin.  

The cleric has caught Thrush and is ascending again when the bank of mist drops on him.  Horbin the Holy shrieks as he feels it sucking at his essence, trying to steal his mind and soul.  He can feel his brain slowing, his intellect slipping away as the cloud tries to force his spirit into an eternal torment within it!  Screaming faces surround him, and he can feel flashes of their pain.

Worst of all is the instant when Thrush’s face streams by him.

“Aaagh!” Horbin screams hoarsely, flying straight through the Vestige and veering wobbly off towards the closest tower, searching for cover.

The Vestige lazily drifts in his general direction, the faces within it crying in rage and pain.


*So what if you got a _fly_ up?  If it isn’t actually dispelled or suppressed, you’ll still fall when you lose consciousness.  RBDMs, take note.



_*Next Time:*_ The party tries to recover, only to find themselves facing the Tower of Test!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Mu-hahahahahahahahah! That's _evil!_ You are really enjoying throwing this supernasty stuff at them, aren't you?


----------



## the Jester

*Into the Tower of Test!*

Horbin’s arms ache as he lugs the strong, heavily-armored Thrush through the air.  Below is only the churning blackness where the bases of the towers of Moil plunge into... nothingness?  _What _is_ down there?_ Horbin wonders for a moment, but then puts it out of his mind.

Forget about _below;_ worry about _behind._

The Vestige moves lazily after him, cutting through the dark atmosphere of the City That Waits.  Horbin finds the closest cover he can, the nearest tower to hide behind- and there he finds Drelvin cowering beside Patyn.

“Horbin!” the hunter of the dead exclaims in hushed tones.  “Thank the Light you’re still alive!  I was worried, after that thing scattered us with _fear,_ that you’d fall victim to it too.  It seems very powerful.”  He pauses.  “Is Thrush...?”

“He’s alive,” Horbin answers grimly, “but I don’t think he’s home anymore.”  Horror edging into his voice, the cleric adds, “I think the cloud absorbed his soul.”  Setting his fellow human down against the outside wall of the tower, Horbin pensively regards him.

“Good Galador!  What do you think we should do now?”

“We’ve got to reassemble as best we can, try to regroup and get under cover.  Maybe Orbius can find out what that thing’s weaknesses are.  Something... for now...”

“Look!” interrupts Patyn, gesturing into the sky.  A dark form seems to be blotting out the stars, coming closer- much smaller than the Vestige.  Soon it resolves into a worried-looking Angelfire.

“Where’s everyone else?” she asks, concern heavy in her voice.  

Voice tight, Horbin replies, “Good question.  For now let’s get under cover, maybe see if I can do anything for Thrush, and just generally try not to run into that _thing_ again.”

The group is on a thin trestle of a bridge that arches off to another tower in the distance.  An opening leads into the tower.  Angelfire lifts Thrush almost effortlessly, and our heroes, somewhat reluctantly, ease themselves inside the dark tower.  Angel glances at the symbols on the lintel above the arch; a sword, an axe, a gauntleted fist and a crossbow.  With a shrug she disappears into the tower with her companions.

The hall seems to wind its way along the outer wall of the tower; it curves to match the wall.  Grisly, frost-covered human head trophies hang to either side at intervals of about ten feet.  Beneath their feet, the party can make out tiles painted with scenes of warfare.  Horbin tries to bring Thrush around, but it seems that whatever ails him is far beyond the mere physical.

“Well,” Patyn says, “we might as well make sure this tower is secure.”

Both directions looking about the same, our heroes head left.  Soon they reach a rounded “T” intersection.  Another mounted head is there- but unlike the others, this one writhes and groans as if it had a body behind the board and was seeking to break free.  Its eyes roll in its sockets as it grunts and moans, trying to escape from the mount to which it is attached.

As out heroes stop in horror, regarding the struggling head with a mixed pathos of emotions, the pitiful thing catches sight of them and utters an inarticulate cry.  Then it cries out desperately, speaking clearly in a lisping language our heroes don’t understand.

In an instant that is rectified; Horbin uses a _tongues_ spell and calls out, “Hold on, there- now I can understand you!  What-“

“The door!  Take the door to the south, that is what you must do!” the head cries desperately.  “But first, you must help me!  You must release me from the wall!  You see?  I am most cruelly stuck here!  Pry me loose, please- so that I can once again flex my fingers, and feel the breeze on my toes!”

“Uh- I think you- well.”  Horbin pauses, relating what the head said.  

“He wants us to release him?”  Angelfire looks warily at the board to which the head is mounted.  “He thinks he still has a body?”*

Horbin nods.  Turning back to the head, he asks, “What’s your name?”

“Gus,” the head replies.  “But please, you must free me!”

“Calm down, calm down,” Horbin soothes.  “How long have you been here?”

“It really just looks like he’s nailed onto that board,” Angelfire muses.  She leans Thrush’s drooling form against the wall.

“I don’t know, an interminable time,” Gus moans.  “But please, help me get free!”

“It’s undead,” Patyn announces, his voice disgusted.

“Still, we might be able to get some information from it,” Horbin muses.  “He really wants to get out of there- think we should tell him he’s not all there?  He really seems harmless.”

“You have no body,” Angelfire says to the head, and reaches out and pulls the board on which Gus is mounted from the wall.  “See?”  She turns the board around, showing Gus the blank wall.

Gus screams, and screams, and screams.

“Dexter, Angel, did you have to do that?” Horbin winces and sighs.  “Gus- I guess it’s my duty to do what I can to heal you.”  And Horbin casts a _heal_ spell, obliterating the head with the influx of positive energy.

“He said we need to go through the door to the south,” Horbin comments.  “I guess that’s as good a place to start as any.” 

The party heads down the leg of the T intersection, towards the interior of the tower.  To the right, almost immediately, is a door.  They pass on by, following the corridor to its end: a donut-shaped passage surrounding a thick central support of metal and stone.  “That must have been the door he meant,” Horbin says.

“Before we go through any doors,” Angel says, “I’m putting Thrush down.”  The party returns to the area of the door and Angelfire sets the warrior down again.

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” Drelvin says, nocking an arrow, and Patyn pushes the door open.


_*Next Time:*_ The Tests begin!



*Note that throughout this conversation Gus and Angelfire couldn’t understand each other.  Only Horbin could understand and speak to Gus.


----------



## the Jester

*The Tower of Test*

The cold hovers about our heroes like an omnipresent serpent.  Ice is everywhere.  Other than the group’s movements and hushed conversation there seems to be no noise anywhere.

The door makes a loud crack as it breaks free of ice that has frozen it lightly to the floor.  The room revealed is shaped almost like a slice of pie, narrower toward the center of the tower and wider towards the circumference.  The room itself is somewhat strange, for it appears to be full of pillars of iron.  They stand in such thick profusion that it is difficult to see the opposite wall of the chamber.  There seems to be almost no rhyme or reason to their placement; some are so close as to almost be touching, while others are far enough apart to allow passage.

“What the hell is this?” Horbin asks in exasperation.

Drelvin studies the room.  “It looks like we could walk through.”

“This,” says Horbin, “has ‘trap’ written all over it in capital letters.  In fact, I’m surprised my helm of subtitles isn’t showing it to me.”  He frowns.

“Too bad we don’t have a rogue here,” Drelvin says wryly.  “Where’s Malford when you need him?”  A muffled voice comes from within his scabbard.  Drelvin looks down and draws his sword with a smile.  “What’s that, Shastruth?” he asks.

“I said, I might be able to trigger anything in there,” the sword says in a bright, cheery voice.  

“Sure!” says Drelvin, and a _fireball_ blasts into the chamber.*  After the momentary roar and blast of heat- which feels quite welcome to our heroes- nothing has changed, save that much of the ice that enshrouded the room has vaporized or melted. 

For a few moments more the party just kind of looks at the room; then, with a sigh, Drelvin leads the way, Shastruth out.  The rest follow him gingerly, very carefully trying not to touch any of the pillars.  It doesn’t really matter; as soon as Drelvin is halfway across, a pillar falls, seemingly of its own accord.  And then, like dominoes, the rest start coming down.  

The party springs, sprints, rushes and charges forward.  A huge metal pillar smashes into Patyn and he grunts in pain; another _tangs_ off of Angelfire’s back.  Drelvin reaches the exit and hurls himself into the next pie-piece shaped room.  The others fall, a little bloodied.  

”Ow,” Horbin comments, rubbing his temple where he got clipped by a column.  

This room seems empty, but another exit beckons.  Boldly the group moves across to it; and there seems to be no consequence for moving across this room.   The next room is nearly as unadorned as this last.  However, a sliding metal panel of gleaming silver seems to be the only exit.  The portal, strangely, is free of the pervasive frost within the city.  Near the bottom is a handle, frozen to the floor in a block of solid ice.  In fact, a bulge of ice, almost like a frozen wave, lies at the foot of the panel.  

“If we can clear that ice, I can probably lift the panel,” Angelfire remarks.

“We can clear the ice!” Shastruth exclaims.  “Stand back!”  A moment later- our heroes having retreated a sufficient distance- a second _fireball_ explodes, this one easily disposing of the ice in question.  Angelfire moves up to the handle and grabs hold.  It’s just big enough to grab with one hand and still hot to the touch- a sensation she can’t help but enjoy, both as a reminder that she’s no longer truly a creature of fire, and as a reminder that she once was.  Her arms bunch as she tries to lift the door.  To her surprise, it’s very resistant, but she redoubles her efforts and the thing slides silently upward and out of the way.

“Interesting,” Horbin muses.  “Falling pillars and frozen doors.  And what do we have next?”

“Weird,” comments Angelfire. 

The next chamber has myriad spheres hanging from the ceiling, of both mundane and exotic colors, everything from mauve and chartreuse to red and white.  They hang on copper chains, dangling anywhere from 3’ to 6’ below the twenty-foot ceiling.  A faint hum is audible throughout the chamber.

“Hm,” Horbin says, looking in over Angel’s shoulder.  “Looks like this demilich has a thing for circles.”

“Well, do we go in?” Drelvin asks.

“Why don’t I shoot another _fireball_ in first?” Shastruth offers enthusiastically.

“No thanks, Shastruth, we might need it later.  Besides, it seems that these rooms are a little more subtle than that.”  Drelvin sheaths his powerful sword, a smile quirking his lips.  They sure do seem to get along. 

“Do you want to go in?” asks Horbin, looking at Drelvin. 

The archer sighs.  “This again,” he mutters.  “I went first last time!”

Angelfire steps into the room.  Drelvin and Horbin shut up and watch.

The hum rises in volume as Angel moves forward into the room.  She retreats.  As she does so, the volume of the hum decreases.  

“Well,” she says, “that noise doesn’t feel good on me out there.”  She smiles.  “If we’re going, let’s be about it.”

“Of course we’re going!” Drelvin snorts.  “We haven’t come all this way to turn back now!”**


*Shastruth, as of this update, was a ninth-level sorcerer sword.


**One might note that, were Lester there, his line would have been, “Of course we’re going!  We’re adventurers!”


_*Next Time:*_ The Tower of Test continues!


----------



## the Jester

*Enter Faericles*

Imagine that you were traveling across this room, with spheres above you, and a hum.  You notice it while you’re on the threshold, but you _really_ notice it when you step into the room.  Take a step and it gets louder; another three, and you have to raise your voice to have a conversation.  Another two steps and it’s uncomfortably loud.  You can feel it vibrating in your chest and organs.  Go another three steps and you start to bleed from your ears.

You’ve taken ten steps into the room.  

Great- only another fifty feet to go, and with every step the sound gets louder, making it impossible to think, filling your bowels with nausea, splitting your head wide open.

Our heroes struggle through, some barely making it.  It’s not easy for anyone.  Drelvin falls briefly, clutching his head and screaming in pain, before struggling on.  But they all make it, albeit barely.  

As soon as they’re on the threshold of the next chamber, the noise drops to its initial, barely audible level.  Shaken, Horbin the Holy groans, “My head!”  He applies a little Dextrite healing to the group and they turn to the next chamber.  

This one is bare except for a plaque set into a door in the far wall.  Small gems adorn the plaque, and they flash with color in apparently random fashion.  Immediately and simultaneously, Drelvin and Horbin suggest that there’s probably a pattern; they break into grins and study the flashes.  After a time, they determine that the gems flash a pattern of about 20-30 flashes, flash it again, then pause for 30 seconds.*  A little experimentation quickly reveals that the gems will depress; however, this yields an electric shock if the wrong ones are pressed.

“We probably have to repeat the pattern,” Drelvin suggests.

A number of failed attempts- and electric shocks- leave most of our heroes a little sizzled, so Horbin and Patyn apply what healing they can to the group.  Then they try again, trying to recall the quick sequence.  Soon enough they succeed, but this test of intellect is not easy.  The door slides open when they finally succeed, and the group gazes into a room that looks like it’s no fun at all.

It’s yet another pie-piece shaped room; frost lingers on the ground and the walls.  At the far end of the chamber is what appears to be a spiral staircase of white stone, heading upward.  Unfortunately, between our heroes and said stairway are hundreds of scythes, oscillating past each other in perfect silence.  The swinging blades momentarily clear a path to the staircase, but then a deadly blade scythes through the area that just seemed safe. 

“I’ll bet there’s a pattern,” Drelvin and Horbin say together again.  They chuckle. 

Observing the scything blades, our heroes debate their next move. 

“Can we teleport across somehow?” wonders Drelvin.

They can, at least, _dimension door,_ thanks to Angelfire’s psychic powers; and so they bypass the scythes without danger and get to the staircase in but a single step each.

“Up we go,” Angelfire says gamely, wincing as the Deleter squeezes her hands in a pulse of pain.  The group ascends.  Patyn and Angelfire keep a wary eye on each other, their usual animosity sparking up again visibly with being in such a small group.

The stairs spiral up to the ceiling and then exit in a huge chamber, seemingly almost the entirety of the level.  Windows are visible in four places in the outer wall, facing each cardinal direction.  The eerie, silent lighting of the erratic lightning bolts outside strobes within the chamber.  The walls are hung with weapons of all types, from swords and axes to glaives and voulges.  

Weirder, however, is the tower’s center.  The staircase emerges about 20’ from the tower’s outer wall; about 30’ inward, three partial curving walls obscure the very center, but a purple glow radiates from within it. 

“What’s that?” Horbin points.

Suddenly a voice calls forth.  “Stand fast, you who journey in this City That Waits!  If your desire be to pass me ‘ere to the Dreaming Tower, then your worth you must prove.  A champion select, one of sufficient strength of arms to contest me, the Lord High Exultant of the Tower of Test!  If victorious your champion emerges, all may pass.  If defeat is the fate of your champion, then all must turn away, never to return!  _Choose!_”

“It’s undead,” growls Patyn.  His sword’s out.

“You want to be the champion?” Angelfire smiles at the paladin.  

“I don’t think we should accept its challenge,” Patyn sneers.

“Coward!” barks the voice, and a figure steps forth, cold flesh almost translucent.  He looks like a human, but clearly the glow of life has left his skin, which is almost blue with cold.  “I, Faericles, call you all cowards!”

“Look, we don’t need to be fighting right now- you’re actually the first thing we’ve seen here that can talk,” says Horbin.  “Maybe you can tell us a little bit about yourself and your city?  What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I am the Lord High Exultant of the Tower of Test!  Select a champion to face me!”

“Your appraisal of us doesn’t concern me, abomination,” Patyn growls.  Addressing the others, he says, “We should destroy this thing.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Horbin says.  “Let’s see what’s going on before we rush to any conclusions.  So, uh, Faericles, you’re the Lord High Exultant, but what does that mean?  What do you do?”

“Yeah, do you, like, hang out waiting for adventurers?”

Faericles looks slightly confused, as if he cannot believe they don’t know who he is.  “I am the Lord High Exultant- the final test,” he says grudgingly.

“Final test of what?” Drelvin asks.

“I guard against any who would pass.  They must pass the final test- just as they passed the Test of Strength, the Test of Intellect and so forth.  _I_ am the final test.  Select a champion, let him face me!”

“We don’t want to fight you,” Angelfire says reasonably.  “At least,” with a glance at Patyn, “_I_ don’t want to fight you.  We don’t even really care about your city- we’re just looking for something.”

“Or someone,” Horbin adds.

“Yeah, maybe you’ve seen him,” quips Drelvin.  “Felenga- mean lich, extremely powerful, big trouble?  Perhaps with a beholder eye and such?”

“What?  Felenga?”  Faericles seems even more confused.  “Who is this Felenga?”

“He’s the lich,” Drelvin answers.

“I have seen a stranger, flying amongst the ramparts of Moil,” Faericles muses.  “A few times- he never came here.”

Our heroes exchange glances.  “Do you know where he went?” Angelfire asks.

“No.  Now, enough of this!  Select a champion!”

“I’m not fighting you.”  Angelfire shakes her head.  She starts walking towards the staircase.

“Let’s destroy this thing,” Patyn urges sternly.

“Enough!” Faericles roars, infuriated past perseverance.  He cries out, “Wall of Swords style!” and starts adopting a strange stance full of shuffling movements and abrupt movement.  It seems simultaneously supremely offensive and supremely defensive.**  He lunges almost faster than the eye can follow at Drelvin, but the wily elf is just too quick and dances back out of the way.  Unfortunately, he gasps as ice covers his body in a hard, immobile shell!

“No you don’t!” Horbin cries, blasting a quickened _searing light_ at Faericles, followed by a _flame strike_ that envelopes both the Lord High Exultant and the frozen Drelvin.  

Faericles, barely fazed at all, smoothly cuts down Drelvin and Patyn in one bold series of blows.***

“Wall of Swords style!” he barks, looking Horbin right in the eye.



*There were many comments during this part of the session about “Simon Says”... 

**In other words, full Power Attack _and_ full Improved Combat Expertise.

***One attack killed Drelvin, one attack killed Patyn.  Right in a row.  Right in the same round.  Right then Horbin and Angelfire knew that things were _serious._



_*Next Time:*_ Things go from bad to- well, no, from worse to- well, let’s just say that things aren’t good


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

OK, so I was looking at his stats in the other thread, and I was thinking he was fairly nasty...I had _no idea_ he was that nasty! This is looking rapidly like a TPK here! Fingers crossed that your players can get out of it!


----------



## Knightfall

Tallarn said:
			
		

> OK, so I was looking at his stats in the other thread, and I was thinking he was fairly nasty...I had _no idea_ he was that nasty! This is looking rapidly like a TPK here! Fingers crossed that your players can get out of it!




Agreed, I like these guys. (Yes, even the high and mighty Patyn and his 'you are evil' attitude.)

of course, a TPK wouldn't necessarily mean the end of this story arc. There are enough additional PCs, in the Cydra escapades, to warrant a rescue party.

Clambake anyone?   

Cheers!

KF72

*P.S. Tallarn, have you seen my Gods of Harqual Story Hour. (See sig!)*


----------



## the Jester

*Faericles, pt. 2!*

Angelfire is strolling towards the stairs, but as Faericles, Lord High Exultant of Moil, cuts her friends down she hesitates.  She has no conflict with Faericles, nor does she really mind that he cut down Patyn; after all, it was bound to happen sooner or later.  But Drelvin was a friend, and a good drinking buddy- and his death is troubling.

_And now Horbin’s essentially on his own against the Lord High Exultant, and that’s not good.  Horbin’s the guy who can bring me back at full strength if I die,_ Angelfire thinks.

Still... she isn’t the one who wanted this fight.

“Dexter’s nadlies!” swears Horbin.  He opens up with both figurative blessed barrels, first hitting Faericles with a quickened _lower resistance_ and then following up with a _fire storm._  Faericles, fortunately for our heroes, is not fast enough to dodge the blast to any appreciable degree, and staggers as the holy flames tear across him, inflicting severe damage.  Faericles grits his teeth and remains silent as his arms are seared, his torso blackens, and his feet are charred almost into ash.*

A ghastly grin on his undead face, the Lord High Exultant steps forward and takes a staggering sling at Horbin.  He cuts into the cleric’s arm, but he has to move too far forward to get in another attack, and hope surges in Horbin’s breast as he realizes he’ll have time to blast it again before it can finish him off.

And then, in his head, Horbin screams, for the ice closes in around him, freezing him in a block of ice.

“Ahhh,” Faericles gloats, “foolish sun-worshiper!  Now I will drink your life!”  And indeed, Horbin can feel his health leeching away, sapped by the cold and drunk greedily by Faericles of Moil.  The High Exultant’s grin stretches wider as he watches Horbin slowly dying in the sheath of ice.  He raises his undead arms, watching as Horbin’s life energy starts repairing the damage from the _fire storm_.  

Horbin’s heart spasms as Faericles draws in a deep breath of his life force.  _Getting weak,_ he thinks desperately.  _Dexter help me... where’s Angel?_

And then an arc of coruscating power shoots from the shadows by the stairwell, blasting into Faericles, and he screams in a high, reed-like voice, and then he slumps down, _deleted._

Angel slowly walks over to the corpse, but it’s neither moving nor draining life any longer.  She moves to free Horbin, breaking the ice away.  The shivering cleric collapses against the wall for a moment, then _heals_ himself.

“That was terrible,” he says.

Angelfire nods.  “We shouldn’t have fought him.  But it’s okay.  I deleted him.”

Horbin lets it go with a glance at the body.  Even within the encasement of ice he saw the blast that destroyed it; and he worries at the influence of the Deleter on Angelfire.  But this is not the time or place...

“We should at least search around,” suggests Angel.

“I think we need to find the others and get the hell out of here!  If that Vestige things attacks us before we’re ready for it-“

They do a quick search of the area.  In the center of the tower is a strange meditation area.  The purple radiance they noted earlier seems to come from some weird mats on the floor; staying in the center of them for more than a few seconds hurts, and the two survivors decide not to tempt fate.  

Faericles’ armor is scooped up, but when Angelire grabs his greatsword she feels a lash of pain, so she drops it.  With a shrug she moves to start throwing the dead or... er... well, whatever Thrush is, over her shoulders.  The two move out of the tower.

Shortly, via various messaging magicks, they rejoin the others at their initial entry point.  When she sees Thrush’s vacant eyes and drooling mouth, Sybele cries, “What happened to Thrush?!”  Angel and Horbin explain that the Vestige got him; worse, Horbin tells her about seeing Thrush’s face within it. 

“We’ve got to rescue him!” cries Sybele.

“We need to go rest first,” Horbin says.  “But yes, then we should rescue him.”

“I have a good idea of where Mr. Grab is,” Orbius announces.  “We should try to get him before we leave.”

“Well,” Horbin muses, “I do still have most of my spells.”

“I’m ready,” Angel says.

”We are down a few people,” Rex points out, “but I’m sure we’ll be fine.  I mean, it’s just a familiar, how tough can it be?”

“Right,” grumbles Horbin.  “Every time someone says that, it’s tougher than we thought.”

The party stands close while the Eye casts a few special enhancements and protections, including a _mass stoneskin, Rary’s telepathic bond, piercing clarity_ and _protection from spells_, then dispatches an _arcane eye_ to scout the tower of black ice at which the familiar should be (according to Orbius’ spells).  Even as the _arcane eye_ approaches the tower, Orbius sends over a _mobile scry_ as well, using _ultimate concentration_ to pay attention to both at once and start exploring the tower, looking for signs of Felenga’s familiar.

“The tower’s solid ice,” he reports.  He casts another spell, one of his own creations, and an image resolves, showing what he sees to the rest of the party.  “There’s a body!  Frozen in ice... another... _many._”  His lips press together in distaste.

“Are they undead?” Horbin asks.  Sybele glances over from where she’s wiping Thrush’s drool-covered face with an edge of her cloak.

“Can’t tell by looking,” Orbius replies.  “I think it’s a fair assumption that any bodies we find anywhere in here might be undead, though.”  The cleric nods in agreement.  “Hey, an entrance,” Orbius remarks.  “Hmm... I’m going down even further... whoa!  What’s this?”

“What is it?” Rex asks.

“Well, look,” Orbius points at the display.  “I went to the base of the tower to see what was there- and there’s a chamber at the bottom.”  He gestures.  “Mostly floorless, but either end has a little platform.  Looks like that’s where you’d come in- a sloping chute that heads up, or down from above, I guess.  And on this end...”

“Wow,” says Horbin, “are those bars?”

“Bars of light, yep.  And what’s behind them?  I don’t know, because my scry sensor won’t go in there.

“I think I know where we should go,” remarks Orbius wryly.



*Faericles failed his save, and Horbin rolled pretty well on the damage (19d6).  Add in the cold subtype (150% damage from fire) and Faericles went from pretty close to full hp (196) to about 20.


*Next Time:*_/_Our heroes fight a monster from the Epic Level HB- a *winter-wight!*


----------



## the Jester

*The Winter-Wight!*

For those of you with an interest in gaming history, the winter-wight actually first appeared in Return to the Tomb of Horrors.  It's now in the ELH. 




The landing is small, a last stepping stone above the Void.  As Orbius’ _greater teleport_ lands the group on the platform, he grimaces.  _The Void,_ he thinks.  _The Negative Energy Plane.  Lester..._

The mists churn behind them as the party examines the glowing bars of energy that they scried out moments ago.  “That’s not where Mr. Grab is,” Orbius tells them.  “My _locate creature_ has him pinpointed.  He’s above us.  I think he’s frozen in the ice.”

“Something’s back there,” Sybele calls, pointing beyond the bars.  She sees something in the darkness, something huge, with a long, low shape... she thinks she catches a glimpse of a saddle. 

“One thing at a time,” Orbius urges.  “We’ve got a shot at Mr. Grab now, we need to take it!”  He starts to fly up towards the ceiling, but his _foresight_ warns him against it.  “Whoa!  Nobody go up!”

While Orbius mulls over the best approach to getting at Felenga’s familiar, Ulla, Rex and Angelfire fly around, scouting the tower’s interior.  The ceiling- a slab of dull black ice- is about 20’ overhead; the mists are below.  At either end of the tower is a small landing.  The one they first arrived at, of course, has the colored bars sealing off... something.  The other landing seems to have an ice chute that leads in from above.  Rex and Angel land to check it out.

Before they have time to more than glance at the chute, something springs out from behind it. 

A skeleton encased in ice with a corona of familiar-looking black flame around its skull leaps out and deals a resounding blow to Rex!  “Come to feel my icy embrace, darlings?” it rasps in a hissing, cracking voice, and its blow sends Rex reeling.

Angelfire deletes it, the weird gauntlets crushing her hands as she does.  “NGGG!” she groans as the effects of the Deleter continue to ravage her.  The arc of eye-splitting energy shoots out-

And misses.

The winter-wight starts forward to finish off Rex, who kicks out with bone-cracking force and deals a tiny amount of damage to the monster.  “Uh-oh,” the dragon disciple grunts, but then the winter-wight is blown off balance for a moment by a _puncture_ from Orbius.

The winter-wight lets out a blood-curdling laugh as it tears into Rex.  Its massive icy claws tear open horrid wounds on Rex’s torso and leg, and only the dragon disciple’s amazing speed keeps the black flames from catching on his very soul!  Rex spins and leaps away, taking another telling wound as he does.

Angelfire _timeslips_, and with Rex flying away from the thing, it is left alone on the landing.  But the thing is clearly not so easily discouraged- it fires a cone of freezing air at the group!  A chorus of cries rings out as our heroes feel the ice settle into their limbs and organs!

“Kill it from a distance!” cries Sybele, firing arrow after arrow at the thing, but the winter-wight ducks back behind the ice chute, out of sight.

“Crap,” mutters Horbin, casting a _heal_ on a very grateful Rex.  “We should kill that thing.”  Rex nods agreement.

“It’s strong,” the draconian-looking adventurer comments.  “And watch out for that black fire.”

A few nervous seconds pas as out heroes watch for any sign of the monster; then Angelfire reappears, looking around, and in another instant the creature has emerged again, cackling wickedly as it hacks at Angelfire with deadly, brutal force.  She throws her shoulder into the monster, knocking it back a pace, trying to force it off the edge of the precipice, but it’s too strong!  It slashes back, cutting a deep trench in Angel’s face.  She groans, shaking her head as the black flame catches on her body!  A terrible scream of pain rises from the landing as she staggers.

“No!” cries Orbius, and a _greater dispelling_ snuffs the black flames.  Horbin the Holy flies forward, skimming the surface of the Void, and casts a _mass heal._  Like a hammer blow, positive energy arcs into the winter-wight, inflicting tremendous damage even as it heals Angelfire of most of her wounds!

Gasping at her near destruction, Angel lifts her feet off the ground (she’s still under the _mass fly_ Orbius cast earlier) and whips an odd cube of rusty-looking iron from a pouch at her belt.  “Here!” she calls, and activates it.

There’s a tremendous noise.

The cube- a _Daern’s instant fortress-_ expands rapidly on the edge of the landing, smashing the ice slide and part of the ceiling before the platform shatters under its growing weight and falls into the Void, taking the instant fortress, the winter-wight and all with it.

Shaking her head, Angelfire quirks her mouth in a smile.  “Bad, but not so bad,” she comments.


*Next Time:* Mr. Grab!


----------



## Knightfall

update!


----------



## the Jester

I'll be posting an update later today if all goes as planned; this is just a quick recap of the party and their levels as of the current update.

*Horbin the MFKG Holy,[/i] CG cleric 19 of Dexter; 
Angelfire, LE psychic warrior 14/cleric 4/templar of Coila 3;
Orbius, the Eye of Boccob, played by Lester's player while the L's MIA, CG diviner 7/divine oracle 10;
Sybele, CN fighter 8/psion 9/warrior of chaos 2;
Rex, LN monk 5/sorcerer 1/rogue 1/fighter 1/dragon disciple 10;
Ulla, N druid 7/shifter 10.

Those are the pcs that were present at the game over which the following update took place.*


----------



## the Jester

*A Sudden Bit of Felenga!*

Perched on the edge of the void, above the roiling black mists of the Negative Energy Plane, our heroes peer up at the tower of ice above them, full of frozen bodies.  Their target, Mr. Grab, Felenga’s familiar, is up there somewhere.  If they can get him, Orbius reasons, they can force him to lead them to his master’s phylactery.

“Let’s melt our way up to it,” Orbius urges.  “We can catch it when it falls!”

Sybele covers the group carefully as they fly into position underneath the ice ceiling, all too conscious of the Void below them.  Horbin gulps as he thinks, _That is the source of power for the undead._  The realization that he is right on the edge of total annihilation is sobering.

***

Meanwhile, Felenga is all too aware of the party’s presence.  They are not far from his hidden phylactery, not far at all- for the first time in billions of years, Felenga is truly worried.  First they cut him off from the source of much of his power, then robbed him of his carefully cultivated gifts- and now they actually approach his _phylactery!_

It is time to intervene.

Felenga _greater teleports_ to the icy ledge before the phantom flyer’s prison, appearing a few dozen yards from where the party is.  

It is time to be _done_ with these interlopers!  -But somewhere within him, there is a kernel of doubt.  _They are too close!  If I do not stop them _now_ they will be the end of me!_

“Flee, you fools, or I will destroy you all!” the Dark One roars as he opens up with both barrels, casting first a _horrid wilting_ and then a quickened _horrid wilting._  Desiccating energy rips into the party, and everyone screams in agony as the pair of spells sucks the moisture from them, nearly killing several of them.  Lips crack, eyes wrinkle, tongues swell and split; our heroes’ flesh draws inward.  

Orbius, barely surviving the terrible initial assault, uses his most powerful magicks.  _All_ of them.

He casts a _time stop_, trying to gain a moment to think.  _Oh sh*t oh sh*t oh sh*t, Felenga it’s Felenga!_ 

He knows he only has an instant.  

He hurls a _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_ at the lich, and then opens a _gate_ to the Upper Planes.  A noble elf with gleaming pearlescent skin and a tremendous holy greatsword steps through.  _A ghaele,_ Orbius realizes, and a bargain is quickly struck for the outsider’s aid against Felenga in this battle.

Time flows forward.

The _disjunction_ takes effect, rippling visibly in the cold air around Felenga.  He recognized Orbius’ _time stop,_ of course, but he wasn’t prepared for a _disjunction._

Impotently, furiously, terrified, Felenga drops into the Void.  He sees the party recede for a few seconds and then they’re lost from sight.  

“NO!” Felenga cries out, frustrated beyond compare in his entire existence.  Only another few seconds and he would have killed them all!

Quickly, he attunes himself to the negative energies coursing all around him.  It is a trifling matter, but he grits his rotten teeth together as he does.  His earlier expeditions into the Rib Vault on the Abyss have depleted his resources enough that he will not be able to return to Moil until he can regain his spells, leaving those foul adventurers with more than enough time to do as they will- if they can bypass Acererak’s clever gauntlet of Moilian zombies.  Felenga frowns.  He is certain they will.

In the worst mood of his entire existence, Felenga broods as he falls through the Void.  Nothing approaches him, for this is the Void, and there is virtually nothing within it _to_ approach him.  

After a time, unable to bear the suspense, he casts his _hidden scry.*_ 

The party of accursed adventurers is melting through part of the ceiling.  They have a reasonable hole already; it seems that at least a few Moilians must have dropped down through the mists in the process.  

Felenga watches as they capture his familiar.  He watches, unable to believe it, as they _gate_ back to Var with Mr. Grab.  And he cackles with glee as he watches them set about questioning it, leaving his phylactery- which they were _so close to_- safe.

But not for long; they’ll surely return and find it.  The only question is, where can he put it where it will be more secure?

And the only possible answer comes to him.  

Felenga waits impatiently until he can finally regain his spells and _gates_ directly to the middle of the Moilian gauntlet.  Above him, in the ceiling of ice, is a large humanoid shape.  

Felenga smiles at his own genius as he frees his phylactery from its frozen prison, then _plane shifts_ to the Negative Energy Plane.  He casts _attune form_ to ensure the environment will not cause him or his phylactery any undue distress, then _greater teleports_ them both to Acererak’s Fortress of Conclusion.


*One of Felenga’s epic spells.


_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes try to extract information from Felenga’s familiar!  Plus: Angelfire falls in love!


----------



## the Jester

*Talking to the Hand*

The questioning of Mr. Grab commences back in Var.  Malford must attend to various affairs of state, and he warns Lester severely against blowing up any of the royal property again.  Lester reassures him as the King goes off, shaking his head.

How does one extract information from an undead hand?  Much less when it’s a familiar and one is trying to extract information about its master?

Orbius first tries to play up any resentment the hand might have over having been left in ice.  “We came to save you,” he tells Mr. Grab.  “Felenga was getting ready to make a new familiar,” he tries.  “Aid us and Galador will accept you!”  At that one Horbin splutters and mutters under his breath, a discernible tone of scorn threaded through his inaudible words.

Sybele tries her 'slut' technique, rubbing herself on it lewdly, trying to entice it with promises of lascivious rewards.  This, too, fails to sway the hand.

They try torturing it; Angel even threatens to delete it, her hands throbbing as the Deleter continues to squeeze and crush them; but of course, Mr. Grab is undead and feels no pain or fear.  Moreover, it has no mouth.  The party uses magical telepathy to allow it the opportunity to speak to them, but it spurns their offers.

That night, Horbin grimly tells the party, “This isn’t going to work.  It’s a familiar, we aren’t going to get anything out of it.”

“It could work,” Orbius insists.

Ulla, Sybele, Angelfire, Thrush and Horbin go out to get drunk.  They succeed, Thrush, Sybele and Ulla beyond their wildest expectations.  Horbin gets nicely drunk, brooding over the affair of the hand; he doesn’t think it’s a good idea to be tormenting it.  He wants to heal it.  He vows to give it one last chance in the morning and then do so.

Angelfire is retrieving a round early in the night when she catches someone’s eye.  He’s a dark, brooding-looking warrior type; and on his breast is Coila’s symbol.  She hands everyone’s drinks around and then goes to speak to the warrior.

She doesn’t leave his side all night. 

She’s captivated, enraptured, visibly _twitterpated._  Angel!  And he, too, seems almost blinded to anything else in the room.  They have a few drinks and talk and talk and talk.  The two vanish into a room together long before dawn.

In the morning, nursing a twinge of a headache, Horbin gives Mr. Grab one last chance to help and then, when the hand remains defiant, casts _heal_ upon it.  There’s a moment of spasming agony for Mr. Grab as positive energy explodes into it, and then it blows apart, exploding into bony fragments.

“Why’d you do that?” Sybele demands.  “Orbius is gonna be pissed.”

“Torturing the hand was a colossal waste of time and just puts us closer to our dark side,” Horbin rants.  “It was a familiar!  It’s not going to betray its master!  I don’t even know if it’s _capable_ of betraying its master!”

Around midday, Angelfire returns to the castle, her new friend in tow.  “Hi, I’m Horbin,” the cleric says, shaking hands with the newcomer.

“Londo,” the warrior says.  There’s a palpable aura of evil around him.  But hey, Horbin hangs out with Angelfire, used to adventure with Sheva, not to mention Sith back in the day- evil doesn’t phase him.  As always, perhaps he can be a good example.

Londo and Angel are inseparable.  It’s clearly a case of love at first sight- the others watch, bemusedly, as the usually grim Angelfire is all sweetness and light with her new honey- who, it develops, is not merely a worshiper of Coila, but actually a blackguard of her.*  Though not too talkative, he doesn’t do anything to annoy anyone right off the bat.  Patyn, however, scowls immediately upon meeting the man.  He doesn’t try to start a fight, but it’s clear that he doesn’t like Londo one bit and that he’s only going to tolerate him long enough to destroy Acererak and Felenga.

The group spends a good deal of the afternoon together, having lunch with the King (who seems rather grumpy today).  Londo listens with interest to the conversation- it covers subjects from Felenga to the Deleter, the Bile Lords to the dragons whose hatching cave Sybele and Angel helped guard.  He soaks up the information like a sponge, and already he frowns inwardly at something he’s heard.

Rex spends a good deal of time looking for Arion the Archmage, leaving a small gift of 1000 pp at his tower and searching through the bars.  Alas, he has no real luck, and soon enough night falls and the party slips into sleep, Angel in the arms of her new love.



*Enter Angel’s new cohort, Londo Molari (Babylon 5 fans will no doubt recognize the name).


_*Next Time:*_ Londo makes a move that nobody expects- against Angelfire!  Why??  What happens??  Find out!


----------



## the Jester

*Betrayal Over Breakfast*

Londo wakes up first, brooding and silent. 

Surely Coila herself led him to his angel.  His Angelfire- a powerful templar of his goddess.  Surely it was meant to be.  Surely...

And that she should feel the same, instantly- it is a blessing the likes of which he’s never felt.  She loved him at first sight, just as he fell madly for her in that initial instant.  And she’s so strong- she’s no weakling, not like the _girls_ he’s been with before.  Even if they were older than him- they were _girls._  Angel is a _woman._

_I am going to protect her,_ he resolves then and there, _even from herself._  His eyes fall to the weird gloves she wears, even now in her sleep.  They are, in fact, _all_ that she’s wearing right now as she sleeps beside him.  He wanted her in all her naked glory- every inch of her laid bare before him.  But she would not remove the gloves.

_Won’t- or can’t,_ he thinks grimly.  He remembers the cursed amulet he wore for nearly a year once- unable to remove it, unwilling to try.  Things like that change your perceptions, Londo knows.  And he’s no fool- he’s been watching and listening warily to Angel’s friends since they came back to the castle and he realized what sort of company she keeps.  _Even a paladin,_ he sneers inwardly, then frowns.  

Horbin.  Londo will need his help.  He grits his teeth at the thought of asking a Galadorian cleric for aid.

_I will minimize his involvement,_ Londo vows to himself.

***

Chobain is the bard of Malford’s castle.  He was found, years past, by Malford and several of his companions, including Lester, in a giant’s bag.  The bag was stuffed full of sheep; other than Chobain, that’s all that was in there.  Ever since his rescue, there have been ongoing jokes about how he can’t get the smell out.

Sometimes he wonders himself; he could almost swear that a little sheep-scent still clings in his hair, but that’s ridiculous; it’s been almost a decade, and there have been so many baths, journeys and women since then that- well.  Surely not.

One of Chobain’s favorite things to do is to go into the various taverns that are springing up around Var as the population grows to sing the songs and tell the tales of Malford and his Motleys.  From time to time this has led to large tips, loose women and interesting characters.  This morning- as Chobain regales a small crowd at an inn called the Three Rubies (situated near the south end of Drelvin’s Avenue).  It’s a place where his stories are always welcome; the clientele tends towards wealthy or ambitious adventurers.  They love to hear his stories, and there have been one or two (well, more like twelve or so, but who’s counting?) occasions where he’s dragged some overawed adventuring party back to the castle for an impromptu drunk with Drelvin (and once or twice even a brief meeting with the King himself).

This is a similar occasion; only instead of inviting him back for a drink Chobain invites the fellow back for breakfast.  It is early yet, after all.  

The interesting person in question first strikes up a conversation with Chobain after he tells the tale of the giant clockwork horror from which the king and he (and the others, of course) rescued Belmondo the Enhanced.  It’s a favorite, all the moreso since Belmondo has affirmed the truth of it more than once in this very room.  Afterward, impressed by the bard’s tale, the adventurer in question comes up and introduces himself as Bartholomew of Cassus.  

“A fantastic tale,” Bartholomew comments with a smile.  He introduces himself as an adventuring cleric.  The two chum it up for a few moments, then Chobain invites the other to come eat.  They proceed back to Malford’s castle.

***

Breakfast is served, and our heroes eat heartily.  Nobody else notices it, but when Horbin excuses himself to hit the privy, Londo waits a moment and then does the same.  He waits for the cleric to exit the privy and speaks.

“I need to talk to you for a moment,” he says coolly.

Horbin regards him suspiciously.  “What do you need?” he asks warily.

“It’s those gloves my Angel’s wearing.  I’m going to take them off her, and I need you to be ready to heal her.”

Horbin gapes for a moment.  Finally, he replies, “You want _me_ to help you?  I mean, sure.”

“All I need is for you to heal her.”

“I can maybe use a _hold person_ or-“

“All I need,” Londo repeats slowly, “is for you to heal her.”  His gaze on Horbin is hard and unflinching.

“All right, all right, I’m just trying to help.”  Horbin shakes his head in exasperation.  “But I don’t think she’s going to take them off easily.”

“I know.  I’m going to chop her hands off.”

Horbin is aghast.  “What?!  She’ll kill you if you try that!”

“No she won’t,” Londo says with utter confidence.  “Be ready tonight.”

***

The breakfast hall is full of people when Chobain and Bartholomew arrive, but Malford’s servants are nothing if not efficient and quickly arrange more space for the newcomers.  The room now holds, in addition to a pair of kitchen servants, Horbin, Sybele, Angelfire, Rex, Orbius, Patyn, Bartholomew and Chobain.  Chobain (who knows out heroes fairly well from their time around the castle) introduces Bartholomew around.  Bartholomew for his part declares himself well pleased to make the acquaintance of such a distinguished bunch of personages.  The chat centers around Thrush’s plight- trapped in the horrible Vestige of Moil.

“Interesting,” Bartholomew comments.  “I may be able to help- I have mighty powers of summoning.”

The day moves along.

***

Rex continues his search for Arion the Archmage, mostly by cruising the bars.  He knows that Arion likes to drink from the stories that Drelvin and Lester have told (ah, poor Lester, he thinks to himself).  It’s a frustrating process that, by noon, has had no positive results.  He does find a few interesting things; a poster declaring a reward for a barbarian brigand named Zonzor, for example, and, more noteworthy, a companion. 

In a bar he finds a bright-eyed, heavily armored, well-armed man.  He wears a silver rose to clasp his cloak; Rex recognizes this as the holy symbol of Garnet, the Triple Goddess.

“Hello there,” he says.  “You serve Garnet?”

The stranger- two crossed hammers are across his back, notes Rex- looks the dragon disciple up and down.  For a moment his eyes turn silver as he concentrates, then he answers, “Yes.  My name is Sir Maxwell.”*  He grins and extends a hand.

“You look like an adventurer,” Rex says without preamble.  “I’m currently involved in quite an adventure, and frankly, we could use all the help we can get.”

After some discussion, Sir Maxwell agrees to join Rex and his companions in their assault on lich (well, frankly, at this point _liches_) that they’re fighting.  “That’s almost my specialty,” Sir Maxwell declares, and tells Rex that he is a member of a holy order called the Knights of the Chalice “that opposes evil extraplanar creatures, such as baatezu, tanar’ri and yugoloths- fiends, in other words.  Demons, devils, that sort of thing.  Hordelings.  You know.”

“Well, we’ve had our fair share of demons lately,” Rex says, describing the massive battle with the demons on the ethereal plane, as well as their fight with the balor.  After exchanging a few more tales, the two decide that they’ve nothing to lose and everything to gain by joining forces.

Later in the afternoon, Rex and Sir Maxwell finally stumble across Arion, who is more than drunk in a bar.  Rex approaches humbly and speaks to Arion, who seems a little disoriented and confused, perhaps even uncomfortable when the dragon disciple brings up Brespicacious**.  Arion becomes evasive, then hostile, and finally loudly demands that they leave immediately or raise the ire of the archmage.

Naturally, Rex and Sir Maxwell retire to the castle.  The day’s about done anyhow.

And, as the sun sets, Horbin nervously prepares himself.


*Yes indeed, Maxwell has a silver hammer.

**Brespicacious is the amethyst dragon that is Rex’s Great Lord.  When they met previously at Arion’s moving tower, Rex had asked whether Arion had ever met Brespicacious before, to which the Archmage had answered Yes.


_*Next Time:*_ The Battle for the Deleter!!!


----------



## the Jester

*The Battle for the Deleter*

In the western sky, the sun touches the water’s edge and seems to perch there for a moment before starting to ease into the sea.*  The shadows lengthen; the clouds turn first orange, then pink, then purple.

Horbin nervously paces in his room.  He has deep misgivings about Londo- they just met, after all- but he realizes that Angelfire’s new cohort is right.  The Deleter has to go.  It’s killing her.**  

He takes a deep breath.  All he can do is wait, anyway.

***

In her room, Angel and Londo break from a long kiss.

Her heart is all aflutter; she can’t take her eyes off him.  He’s dark and brooding and grim; his aura flares with Coilite power.  He is a champion of her deity, and one almost as powerful as she is!  Surely it is no coincidence that she has met him; surely Coila means them to be together.  They must be destined for great things.  Felenga- and more.

“Let’s take a shot,” Londo rumbles softly, pulling a flask of freshly-purchased _tiley_*** from his belt.  Angel exclaims in pleasure as her new man shows himself possessed of exquisite taste in liquor.

He pour a shot for each of them, though he hands Angel hers first (very full) and covers his with his body while he pours a much smaller one.  They toss them back.  Angel feels it burn all the way to her belly, its sharp, coppery flavor filling her sinuses.  Her head swims; she takes a stumbling step backwards and falls snoring onto the bed.

Londo, eyes watering, coughs a few times, sways, then staggers out into the hall.  A few steps to Horbin’s room; then a knock, and the cleric’s door opens with alacrity.

“Get ready,” mutters Londo.  “She’s passed out.”

Horbin shakes his head in wonder, then follows the blackguard.  He casts a _neutralize poison_ to sober Londo up and the two quietly enter Angelfire’s chamber.  She’s still snoring as Londo carefully lays her out face down with her arms- and the Deleter- stretched out above her head.

He draws forth a sword.

***

Rex wakes with a start.

Did he hear something?

Hell, he’s tired.  Forget it.  He rolls over and tries to go back to sleep.

***

Orbius, writing in his journal (he must preserve what he observes, after all), hears the blood-curdling scream rip through the living area of the castle.  Immediately he casts _Orbius’ mobile scry_ and looks in on Angelfire’s room- after all, that Londo guy doesn’t look one bit trustworthy to the Eye!

“By the spectacles of Boccob!” he exclaims.

What the hell is _Horbin_ doing in there??

Orbius _teleports_.

***

All down the hall with the living quarters assigned to our heroes, doors fly open as sleepy adventurers spring into action.  People are yelling; what the hell’s going on?

Annoyed- it doesn’t even sound like there’s a fight- Rex nonetheless takes the opportunity to do something he’s been considering for a while, and uses a scroll of _limited wish_ and _permanency_ to enlarge himself.  He’s tired of Sybele and Thrush being bigger than him.

***

When the blade came down for the first time, there was a horrible amount of blood.  Angel came awake with a horrifying scream as her right hand is hacked mercilessly from her body.  Londo chops again, hoping to finish it all in an instant, but the Deleter seems to move the arm with an awareness all its own, jerking about and avoiding a second clean severing.  The blow catches the arm a terrific blow but doesn’t hew the hand free.

“Dexter’s nadlies!” swears Horbin, and casts _feeblemind_ on Angel.  The templar of Coila grunts in surprise as her mind basically turns to oatmeal.  She goes slack, crying and mewling in pain as blood pumps from the stump of her right hand at a prodigious rate.

And then Angel’s left hand- with half the Deleter still attached- jerks around to point and Londo.  There’s a terrific *ZOT* as a coruscating beam of violet-hot energy arcs jaggedly through the air.  Londo cries out in surprise, but the blast misses him.

He slices deeply into Angelfire’s wrist; he hears bones crack, but he doesn’t quite hew it off.  His lips are curled in a fierce sneer as he prepares to hack at the Deleter again, and then suddenly the door to the room opens!

***

When the Eye throws the door open he’s already moving aside; but the hallway is full of powerful adventurers who know Angel and Horbin very well and would love to help if they only knew what the hell was going on.  Orbius, of course, has already figured it out, with his vast intellect.  

Bartholomew of Cassis has too. 

He observes as Horbin casts _hold person_ and Angelfire freezes in place, then starts in wonder as the Deleter jerks her arm about with such force that it breaks bones against the magic of the holding!  Patyn is rushing into the room, striking a blow at the Deleter with his sun blade; and he deals another devastating wound to the arm. 

It just _won’t let go._

*ZOT!*  Another blast fires off, narrowly missing Horbin the Holy as it cascades past his shoulder and blasts the wall.  Then Londo lands another incredible blow to the arm, a grievous wound that almost takes the appendage off at last; but it’s hanging by a combination of a few flaps of skin and some filaments the Deleter seems to have extruded just for this purpose.

Orbius fires a _puncture._  The spell isn’t possible to aim closely, but it has tremendous power and will blow a hole in just about anything.  And, through sheer dumb luck, the blast takes Angelfire in the left arm and shoots her remaining hand off.

Horbin scoops both hands up carefully and puts them in his _bag of holding._  “We should make sure to dispose of these properly,” he remarks, then casts a _heal_ on Angelfire, which- among other things- takes care of the _feeblemind._  He follows this up with a pair of _regenerates._ 

“Get out,” Londo tells everyone.

“I can heal her more,” Horbin says.  “Maybe she needs-“

_”Get.  Out.”_

Watching from his room, Bartholomew surreptitiously casts _phantasmal thief._  After he sends it off, he closes the door for a moment while he quickly summons Barzoul, a vrock known to him.  Counting on the party to remain distracted enough not to find the vrock in time, he commands Barzoul to remain silent and quiescent until otherwise ordered.  And he waits for the _phantasmal thief_ to deliver its cargo.

Everyone leaves the room.  Londo shuts the door behind them.  In the hallway, the party discusses what to do with the Deleter.

“We need to get rid of it,” says Horbin firmly.

“What is it?” asks Sir Maxwell.  

“It’s bad news,” says Patyn.  “It’s an artifact- not evil, but chaotic.”

“We needed it to bring our big enemy down to a level where we have a chance against him; but we’ve done that.  I don’t know if it’s worth the trouble anymore.”  Horbin frowns.  “We should dispose of it somehow.”

“We might need it again,” Orbius muses.

“Look at the trouble it’s caused!  We need to hide it away or something, or at least make sure that it’s safely away.  And we need to make sure that Angel can’t get at it- I’m afraid there may be repercussions from this little incident.”

Orbius looks uneasy.

***

Fraemlyn is steamed.  Just... _ooh!_  Steamed!  

A demon!  How dare he summon a demon here- the stink is almost impossible to remove!

Watching from a hidden crack in the wall, Fraemlyn determines to cause whatever trouble he can.  He sees the thaumaturge hand the gloves to the demon and sees the demon _teleport_ away, doing its master’s bidding.  

Well, as Bartholomew coolly exits his room for the hallway, one thing’s for sure.  You _don’t_ piss off the house fairies if you have something to hide.

Fraemlyn resolves to tattle.




*Cydra- the campaign world- takes place on the inside surface of a gigantic air bubble in an infinite ocean.  The sun orbits the island of Forinthia; night is when it plunges into the sea and goes beneath.  The heat of this passage is what helps the sea’s life thrive so strongly beneath the ecliptic.

**I believe that at this point Angelfire had about 12 negative levels she couldn’t get rid of.  Each time she fired a blast from the Deleter she gained 1d4!  At progressively deeper and deeper thresholds, she’d lose some as _other_ effects took over.

***An extremely potent liquor with mildly hallucinogenic properties, distilled in part from the heart’s blood of a dragon.  This makes it extremely rare, as in my campaign there were very few dragons in the world until a few game years ago and the infamous Hatching Caves adventure (which were really the big setup for the Great War of Ethics that’s taking place in the background).  A sip of tiley is enough to get an average human so drunk that they vomit or pass out; it is extremely unlikely that one could take a shot and still stand.


_*Next Time:*_ When Horbin looks in his _bag of holding_ in about six seconds, what happens??


----------



## omrob

the Jester said:
			
		

> After he sends it off, he closes the door for a moment while he quickly summons Barzoul, a vrock known to him.  Counting on the party to remain distracted enough not to find the vrock in time, he commands Barzoul to remain silent and quiescent until otherwise ordered.  And he waits for the _phantasmal thief_ to deliver its cargo.





Goddamn Matt Levy! I shoulda known by the name, its a very matt name, 

And I even thought that to myself when you said it...BARZOOOOOL? Double damn. 

The dangers of being super stoned by hour 4 of your game.

These professional risks we take with our characters...


----------



## the Jester

At last another of my players comments!!  Watch for a story hour by him, it should be very entertaining... 



			
				omrob said:
			
		

> Goddamn Matt Levy! I shoulda known by the name, its a very matt name,
> 
> And I even thought that to myself when you said it...BARZOOOOOL? Double damn.




Ah, but Matt Levy didn't name him.


----------



## the Jester

*Return to the Tomb of Horrors*

“Let’s make sure,” Horbin says fatefully, “that the Deleter is safe, at least, and let’s keep it away from Angel.”  The others nod.  Horbin hefts his _bag of holding_ and looks inside.

His face turns ashen.

“It’s gone,” he whispers.

The group drops into a moment of heavy, ominous silence.

“What do you mean, it’s gone?” Orbius finally asks.

Horbin displays his bag- with no gloves within.  “But it was just here...”

“How could-“

“Who-“

“Dammit!” Orbius swears.  “That’s just what we need!  Hopefully it’s not Felenga who’s got it!”  A quick _locate object_ reveals that the Deleter is nowhere within range- _not that it’s necessarily detectable anyway,_ the Eye thinks grimly.

“That’s very unfortunate,” Bartholomew commiserates smoothly.  “What exactly was this ‘Deleter’ you are talking about?  I mean, I presume it’s the gloves...”

“A very powerful- and very dangerous- artifact,” Horbin tells him.  “It was vital in our fight against the arch-lich Felenga, but I’m thinking that it’s done just about everything it could for us.  Personally- well, good riddance.  It was slowly killing Angelfire.”

“Even though she and I have our differences,” Patyn adds, “she should not die like that.”  He shakes his head.  _She should die in battle... with me._

The group mills about the hallway for a few moments, discussing things.  Then Angelfire’s door opens and she walks shakily out into the hallway, Londo close behind her.  Both of her hands are in the midst of regrowing by now- fresh pink skin slowly extending over new bone and muscle.  They look moist, but not horrible mutilated (as her old hands had started to be).  The party falls into silence for a few moments.

Finally, Orbius ventures, “Angel... are you all right?”

She nods dumbly.  Glances around.  Her face is haunted, her eyes crinkled in horror.  Blood stains her shirt and, behind her, her bed.  

“Where is it?” she whispers, pain and desire in her voice.

“Angelfire...” Patyn starts, but Horbin the Holy interrupts him.

“That’s a very good question,” he says frankly.  “We don’t know.  It’s vanished- and that’s for the best.”

Slowly, Angelfire shuffles about the hall, glancing this way and that as if expecting the Deleter to suddenly have been lying right over there all along, and everyone somehow just missed it.  But no such luck.  Londo glares fiercely at everyone, a warning as clear as daylight that, for now, they must leave her to him.  

But Bartholomew leans over and whispers in her ear, something intended for nobody but her. 

“All is not lost.  I have something you want.”

The others, meanwhile, are gathered around Orbius, suggesting things for him to ask of the great powers when he sends his mind into the Outer Planes for information.  Grimly, the Eye remarks, “Not just the Deleter- I also want to try to find the L.  My prior divinations told me to seek him in the Void- that could mean the Negative Energy Plane or maybe the plane of Vacuum.  It could also mean the void of death.  But I have to find out what I can- we have to rescue him if we can!”

“Not to mention Thrush,” Horbin says.  “He’s trapped in that... that _thing._”

At the mention of the Vestige, Patyn shudders.

***

Who has the right glove of the Deleter?  _Barzoul._
Who has the left glove of the Deleter?  _Barzoul._
Is Barzoul aligned with Felenga?  _No._
Does Acererak the demilich have Lester’s soul?  _No._
Is Barzoul aligned with Acererak?  _No._
Is Barzoul a Bile Lord?  _No._
Is Barzoul seeking to use the Deleter against us within a month?  _No._
Will we able to reach Lester by going through the gate in Marius’ Citadel of Eternity?  _No._
Who does Barzoul plan to immediately use the Deleter against?  _Nobody._
Once we are in the Void, where should we look to find Lester?  _Nowhere._

Orbius relates his results.  “I know I’ve heard that name, Barzoul, before,” he muses.  

Suddenly Horbin snaps his fingers.  “I’ve read about him in some old religious works.  Barzoul is a vrock in service to Graz’zt.  Interesting, but not in a very encouraging way.”

***

Bartholomew, meanwhile, has retired for the evening.  And by retired, I mean he _teleported_ to Shuljin, his cohort, who runs the small pirate base that Bart considers his true home.  It is to here that the Deleter was delivered, and now Bartholomew makes a most unwelcome discovery, staring glumly at the head that came with it.

“Do we know who this was?” he asks.

Shuljin shakes his head.  “I assumed it was an enemy of you.  The vrock dropped the things off in your name and issued dire warnings against touching them.”

It is perhaps indicative of the number and power of summonings that Bartholomew performs that his men not only did not bat an eye at the arrival of a vrock, but also took it at its word that it came from him.  Bartholomew wonders briefly if that might translate, in some ways, into a weakness.  Well, hopefully he hasn’t made any enemies powerful enough to truly exploit it.

Although this might prove to be an exception, if he isn’t careful.

To hell with caution; audaciousness is his nature.

He _communes_ to find out what he can about Barzoul’s extra little gift, and he determines that he didn’t know the person, nor did it belong to a powerful person who might seek revenge.  Nor, it develops, did Barzoul bring the head for a particular reason.

_Demonic savagery,_ thinks Bart.

Furthermore, Angel is still compelled by the Deleter; a _miracle_ might be able to break it.  Might.  Bartholomew frowns.  Should Barzoul choose to inform his demonic lord of his recent activities, it seems likely that his forces could infiltrate Shuljin’s stronghold.  Hmm, not the best news, but it certainly could be worse.

After all, Bartholomew of Cassis now has the Deleter.  And according to his god, it’s the real thing.

Whatever the hell that is. 

***

Horbin hits a bar that night.  The whole thing with Londo and Angel and the Deleter has left his more than a little bemused; and he feels a strong need to take the edge off.

At the bar he finds another friend- Ten Buck Tom, a gnome bard he’s crossed paths with once or twice.*  The two share some anecdotes, and Ten Buck Tom suggests that he compose an epic of Horbin’s life.  To this end, he agrees to follow the cleric through hell and high water- and even through the legendary Tomb of Horrors.

***

In the morning Bart _teleports_ back to his room in the castle of Var, just in time to hear a knock on the door.  He hustles over and opens it.

“Do you have it?” Angelfire asks hungrily.

Bartholomew hesitates for a long moment.  Finally, he answers, “I’m hiding it from you.”

“No.  You’d better give it to me.”

“I don’t think it’s good for you-“

“You’d _better_ give it to me.”  Suddenly her falchion is in her hand.  Bart takes a nervous step back and _teleports_ downstairs into the dining room.

“Morning,” says Horbin.

Orbius stands up and points at him.  “All right, what’s all this then?”  The Eye glares.  “What have you done with the Deleter?”

“What?  I don’t have the Deleter.”

“Liar!  I saw it all!  You just told Angelfire you’re hiding it from her!”

Angelfire walks into the room.  Inwardly, Bartholomew groans.  “Look, I don’t have it- you can search me and my rooms if you want.  We’ve already established that Barzoul has it, whoever that is.”

“One of your servants?” Rex suggests.

“He’s not evil,” Patyn comments.  

Maxwell nods.  “It’s hard to believe one could consort with demons without being evil, especially if he’s a cleric.”

“Thank you!” Bart cries.  “A voice of reason at last!”

Angel stares hard at him.  “If you have it,” she says, her voice slow and full of iron, “if you’re hiding it from me, I will kill you.”

“Can you believe,” Horbin says behind his hand to Sybele, “we only started our attack on the Tomb of Horrors three days ago?”

“I want my babies’ daddy,” Sybele moans.

The party discusses their next move.  Sybele repeats, “I want my babies’ daddy!”  The group agrees that destroying the Vestige will make their hunt through Moil for any other clues much easier, and with any luck they’ll be able to rescue Thrush from it.

“We need to think of the L too,” Orbius reminds everyone.

It’s time for them to get back to it.  Under the theory that it’s better to keep an eye on someone who’s probably recently stolen an artifact from the party than to let him run off and use it, the party allows Bartholomew to accompany them.  They _mass teleport_ to the Great Green Face, give a pinch of dust to Bartholomew and Maxwell, and step through the mouth that does more than devour, returning to the City That Waits.

To hunt the Vestige.




*What we have here is Horbin’s new feat, Leadership, at work.  Ten Buck Tom is his cohort.



_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes face the Vestige again!  Will they have any better luck this time??


----------



## Greybar

> What we have here is Horbin’s new feat, Leadership, at work. Ten Buck Tom is his cohort.




Cool, I just hope that their dangerous lifestyle isn't too deadly for all of these cohorts.  Then again, at 23rd level the cohorts are likely 20th or so themselves. Scary.  What are the non-cohort followers of the group like nowadays? Or are they worth bothering about (other than Malford's desires for godhead).

Can we get a lineup of PCs and cohorts and their brief levels/stats?

Very looking forward to see where this keeps going...  THANKS!

john


----------



## the Jester

The other followers come up in interesting ways- several of the players have really gotten some good use out of my _Stronghold Builder's Guidebook_ lately!  

At the current update point in the thread, the party consists, more or less, of:

*PCs*
Horbin (cleric) 19th
Bartholomew (cleric with some thaumaturge) 17th
Sybel (fighter/psion/warrior of chaos 8/9/2) 19th
Angelfire (psychic warrior/cleric/templar of Coila) 21st
Rex (fighter/sorc/ranger/monk/dragon disciple) 18th
Maxwell (paladin 12/knight of the chalice 5) 17th
Ulla (druid/shifter) 17th
Drelvin (fighter/OotBI) 16th
*Orbius (diviner 7/divine oracle 10/archmage 1) 18th
*Patyn (hunter of the dead) 17th

*Cohorts*
Londo (fighter 6/cleric 1/blackguard 10) 17th 
Orbius, of course, but he's up above right now.  

*Npcs*
Thrush (kinda out of commision right now though)
Patyn (again, listed above)
Shastruth (Drelvin's sword, sorcerer 9)


*Both Patyn and Orbius are technically npcs, but Lester's player was playing the Eye and Patyn is often played by an occasional drop-in player we have.  (Hi Darius!)


----------



## the Jester

*Hunting the Vestige*

“I want my babies’ daddy!” Sybele cries.

Bartholomew shows a new and unsettling side as he summons a pseudonatural air elemental, strange vapors and smells emanating from it as it pulses, misshapen and bloated.

_An alienist, as well,_ thinks Orbius grimly.  More and more the Eye knows he must keep an eye on Bart.  Turning to the matter at hand, though, he casts _locate creature._

Looking for the Vestige, that horrible thing that roils like mist in the black sky of Moil.  There’s a flash as lightning briefly illuminates the frost-rimed towers all around them, and Orbius says, “This way.”

Fully buffed, as ready as they can get, the party flies through the eternal night sky.  Below them the black vapors that signify the border of the Void seem to suck up what little light and color the party has with them. 

Certainly, it is ominous.  

“It’s moving,” Orbius calls to the others.  The pseudonatural air elemental moves ahead slightly.

“There!” Rex cries, pointing. 

It’s coming.

Rex draws in a deep breath, trying to steady himself in the air.  Ulla turns into a huge air elemental herself.  The group tenses, weapons out and at the ready.  Horbin the MFKG Holy calls down the _blessing_ of Dexter upon them.

Angelfire’s hands jerk up instinctively, as if to delete the Vestige, but of course she no longer wears the Deleter.  A spasm of pain crosses her face momentarily as she instead activates her _cloak of Jerakai’s embrace_ to grow an extra set of arms and whips a pair of falchions out.  One of them seems to meld physically with her arm.

“Uh-oh,” Ten Buck Tom gulps.

It is coming.  Ghostly, phosphorescent faces scream within it.  It’s closing on our heroes quickly and ominously; it seems eager to steal more essences from them all.

And then, without warning, still a couple of hundred feet away, it draws up short and there’s a flash of pale light as a _greater dispel magic_ ripples through the group.  With a cry of dismay, both Orbius and Maxwell start to fall towards the Void below.

Patyn grits his teeth and fires off a _searing light,_ hoping that someone will save his comrades.  Ulla does indeed make a grab for Sir Maxwell, but he hurtles past her too quickly; however, his boots sprout tiny wings, which start beating furiously and carry him back up towards the others.  Orbius simply invokes another _fly._

Angelfire and Londo start moving forward bravely, ready to attack; but Bart’s elemental has flashed ahead of them and joined the battle already.  Bartholomew himself has fired off a series of deadly but ineffective spells at the distance but uncomfortably close Vestige.  He watches with displeasure as four misty tendrils emerge from the Vestige, caressing at the elemental he conjured, and it dissipates into vapor.  _Just like that,_ he thinks worriedly.  _Not good._

His next move is obvious.  He casts a _time stop_ and summons several berlani eladrins, then creates a _blade barrier_ directly before the Vestige.  Finally, he casts a _wind wall_ shaped like a tube, hoping to draw the Vestige into the barrier with the winds.

As time begins to flow again, the Vestige easily breaks free and escapes the trap.  Bart curses.

Orbius reaches Horbin’s side.  Horbin has readied a massive healing spell that- assuming the Vestige is indeed undead- should deal devastating amounts of damage to it; and our heroes know that Horbin the Holy is the one who can keep them fighting as they battle it.  Orbius knows that he must be protected.

As the Vestige closes on them, Horbin floats forward and casts his _mass heal._  The positive energy ripples through the group and the Vestige, healing what few injuries our heroes have; but the Vestige is wholly unaffected.  Horbin gulps.  _We need to hit it with a_ lower resistance, he thinks.  

Orbius had previously, among other things, cast a _mass far strike_ on everyone.  Now Angelfire and Londo use it, chopping at the Vestige again and again without effect until Londo finally lands a single blow.  “It’s very hard to hit!” cries Angel.

Patyn, using his dwarven gauntlets, invokes a _true strike._  Grimly, he thinks, _I have to pour everything into this._  And he strikes, smiting evil and undead, and slams his sun blade into it from a far distance.  There’s a clap of thunder and a flash of positive energy as the Vestige takes withering damage, and then he does it again!

The Vestige rushes forward, covering Londo, Angel and Horbin!  The three scream as negative energy sucks at their life force, leeching their energy and heat.  Worse, their minds dull as the Vestige sucks their essences.  Orbius, gritting his teeth, flies forward and touches Horbin, _teleporting_ them both away to the nearest tower.

“What!” Horbin cries.  “Where-“

“We needed to get out of there,” the Eye says grimly.  “We can’t afford to lose you.”

“Couldn’t you have left us a little closer?” Horbin cries.

“No.  I have to have a solid surface for teleportation.”

Then a flash of lightning illuminates the distant scene of the Vestige battling the party.  Horbin casts a _circle of protection_ and starts flying quickly back towards the battle.

***

Ten Buck Tom tries casting a _daylight_ at the Vestige, but it has no affect other than to illuminate it.  He gulps as Angelfire gets grappled by one of the tendrils.  The wounds it has taken are healing quickly as it sucks at Angel’s essence.  She screams in horror as the telling numbness creeps through her.  Another tendril knocks her falchion out of her hand.  There seem to be faces around her... she _dimension doors_ away, shakily, to a point in space below the Vestige, and plucks her falling falchion from the air.

Sybele is using her _ghost touch_ sword that she recently acquired.  It seem to help; the thing is incorporeal, and they can’t afford to lose half of the few chances to hurt it they’re getting.  Tears are streaming down her face as she _far strikes_ at it again and again.  _Thrush,_ she thinks.  _I’ll save you!_

But then the Vestige moves forward and radiates a cone of _fear._  Sybele shrieks, turns and flies away at top speed, and she’s not the only one.  But worse, the _ghost touch_ sword falls into the Void below.





_*Next Time:*_ The fight with the Vestige continues!  Things get much, much worse!  Favorite quote from the session: “Maybe this was a bad idea.  Maybe we _can’t_ just kill all our enemies.”


----------



## omrob

*Run-away!*

"But then the Vestige moves forward and radiates a cone of _fear._  Sybele shrieks, turns and flies away at top speed, and she’s not the only one.  But worse, the _ghost touch_ sword falls into the Void below."

I'll have all of you know that I ROCKED the vestige, from my secure vantage point. Several towers away hiding behind a bridge, Sybele was extremely effective at cowering, trembling, and whimpering. It didn't stand a chance against that. Heh!


----------



## the Jester

*The Hunt for the Vestige (Conclusion)*

It’s the sort of battle that, if only there were someone to see it, would start legends. 

The Vestige presses its massive vaporous form forward, its tendrils drifting lazily out to caress our heroes, sucking at their essences, attempting to steal their very souls into its substance.  Within it, the faces of those already caught scream in eternal torment.  Thrush is there.  

Fear- the metallic taste of fear.  It sits heavily on the party as Sybele, Bartholomew of Cassis and Sir Maxwell flee the battle.*  Bart’s summoned creatures flee as well, leaving our party suddenly without the overwhelming numbers they were kinda sorta counting on.

Patyn grits his teeth as vapors reach for him, but instead of fleeing he unleashes a positive energy burst.  White light flares outward in all directions, tearing gouges in the Vestige’s cloud-like form.

It’s too big, though, and healing too fast.  He can see that- saw it when they fought it before.  Grimly, Patyn begins to wonder whether they’ll be able to defeat this damned thing after all.

Angelfire and Londo hang side-by-side in the air, _far striking_ again and again as the Vestige moves up on them.  Then they’re close enough that they don’t need to _far strike_ any more- it’s nearly on top of them!  Tendrils of fog elicit a groan as they dissipate yet more of Angel’s mind, almost tearing it free of its moorings in her brain!  Shakily, she _dimension doors_ back, behind Patyn.  The hunter of the dead scowls fiercely but has no time to speak as he strikes again and again with his sun blade, but misses with shot after shot!  He grunts in frustration as the blade passes harmlessly through the Vestige as if it weren’t even there.  Even with a bestowed _true strike_ from Orbius he can’t seem to connect!**  Ten Buck Tom flies up behind him and tries to cast a healing spell on him, but the Vestige strikes him and disrupts his spell.  He’s badly wounded and feels his brain numb, as if he’d filled his head with cotton.

Drelvin, meanwhile, fires arrow after arrow at the Vestige.  Most miss, either deflecting away from it as if turned aside by some unseen force or simply passing through it completely. Still, enough shots are landing that he thinks he’s doing some good.  _It’s hard to tell, though,_ he thinks.  _How can you tell if you’re hurting a bank of clouds?_  Grimly, he keeps firing, a steady stream of damage, even if not much.

Horbin appears, flying in and buzzing around the monster, and he casts _lower resistance_ at it.  There’s a moment, illuminated by a flash of silent lightning in the eerie sky of Moil, when the entire Vestige seems to flicker for a second.  _Got it!_ Horbin exults.  _Now let’s see how it does when I unleash my most powerful mass healing!_ 

But even as he prepares to cast a _mass heal,_ the Vestige darts in ruthlessly, moving entirely over Patyn, Londo and Angel.  All three swing at it as it rushes in, both Patyn and Angelfire landing massive blows, but then its chill fingers are inside them, tearing at their souls.  All three feel themselves deadening, their minds slowing.  Too stupid to think to get out, all three of them swing at the mist around them, screaming as it sucks their essences away.  They slash at the screaming faces all around- and Patyn starts in horror as he sees Thrush’s face stream by!

Then Horbin casts his _mass heal,_ and though it does not help with the rather urgent issue of the sucking of their essences, it does repair our heroes’ physical damage.  Better still, the positive energy deals obvious, horrendous damage to the Vestige.

The warriors are still screaming in agony, and their struggles are becoming weaker and weaker.  _They’re dying,_ Orbius thinks sickly.  He casts a _mass teleport,_ using his arcane reach to touch them without entering the Vestige, and teleports them away to safety.

Then the Vestige engulfs him.

Orbius screams as he gets a taste of the Vestige’s terrible hunger.  It sucks at his mind, his most important attribute!  He staggers under the weight of its terrible, voracious need for his soul, and weakly _teleports_ to the nearby, relatively safe bridge he and Horbin went to before, this time taking Drelvin with him.  Gasping for breath, he shakes his head to clear it.  

“What did you do that for?” Drelvin cries.  

“You were next, if I didn’t take you with me,” Orbius replies.  “You’re actually hurting it.  I don’t think you want to be inside it.”  He takes a breath and casts _seeker missiles._

Drelvin nods, already looking in the direction of the battle.  “Maybe I can hit it from here.”  He knocks an arrow.  After all, his mom always said he had keen eyes.

_Twang!_

A pause for a couple of seconds.  Then- “Yep,” says Drelvin, drawing another arrow to the string.

***

Meanwhile, as Ten Buck Tom looks on in ineffectual horror, the Vestige engulfs Horbin.  That’s kind of okay; that makes it really easy to _heal_ it.  Unfortunately for Horbin, even with its resistance lowered, his spell still slides off it like water off oiled whale hide.  _Crap,_ he thinks, flying up and out of it and suffering another deadly blow on the way.  His mind it growing so dim that he’s starting to have trouble ‘membring what this thing is.  Bad thing... vesij?

Brutally, the Vestige hits Horbin with its cold, cold tendrils, and the cleric’s soul flees his body.  His physical form starts dropping towards the Void below.

***

Patyn’s already flying forward full-tilt, but Londo’s staying at Angel’s side.  She hesitates for a long moment before realizing what she should do.  

A _dimension door_ opens. 

“Kill!” Angel barks, and launches herself through the door.  Londo springs through after her, and after a split-second of hesitation, so does Orbius- just in time to see Horbin falling.

Orbius casts _time stop._  His first priority is the cleric, and he flies over to where he now hangs motionless and head down in the air.  Orbius casts another _seeker missiles,_ then draws out a trump and makes contact with the castle in Var.  As time starts moving he pulls Horbin through the trump with him.

A maid is walking by and stops, startled, as Orbius appears and Horbin collapsing onto the ground.  “Oh my!” she exclaims.

“This is Horbin the Holy, friend to the King,” says Orbius rapidly.  “I am one of the King’s adventuring companions.  Keep Horbin safe, we’ll be back soon.”  Without another word he _teleports_ to the Great Green Face in the Tomb of Horrors.  Another deep breath and he steps through, wincing (as he does every time) at the thought of Lester. 

Moil, then.  Precious seconds tick by as he incants yet another _teleport_ and returns to the bridge near the battle, just in time to see Drelvin fire another arrow and grin.  _He must still be hitting it,_ Orbius realizes.  

Drelvin glances at him.  “Hi.”  Then he fires again.

***

Horbin vanishes through a burst of sudden prismatic light.

That’s enough for Ten Buck Tom; he flees towards the bridge that Drelvin’s on.  However, neither Angel, Londo nor Patyn are intelligent enough, at this point, to care.  

All three move in and unleash the deadly martial skills they have developed.  They don’t _need_ intelligence.

Except, of course, that the Vestige devours it, and you might think of it as ensuring that you have enough to take a hit or two.  None of them do, and Angel falls in another pair of blows.  Her spirit shrieks as it is visibly torn from her body and sucked into the Vestige.

“No!” cries Londo, catching her body.  He flies off towards the bridge where everyone else is, hoping someone can help.  As he moves, the Vestige strikes him, reducing his intelligence to less than a dog’s.  Wobbily, he keeps going.

The Vestige flows over Patyn.

He puts all he’s got into one last series of attacks, but it’s not enough.  The _seeker missiles_ flash by, impacting the creature, but it’s not enough.

Patyn starts to drop.

An air elemental, conjured earlier by Orbius, catches him.  Orbius himself appears as he flies overhead and casts _disintegrate_ at it.  The beam blasts into the Vestige, tearing a huge hole in it, but then it flows forward towards him.

Orbius looks around for a moment as he flees back and it strikes at him.

Drelvin, way over there... still shooting, still hitting.  And Londo, and Ten Buck Tom, also way over there... and the elemental, too far away to hear him now as it moves with Patyn towards that same damn way over there!

That leaves, er, _him_ against the Vestige. 

Orbius alone.  

_No way,_ he thinks.  _I’m a wizard, not a fighter._  As he moves away he opens a _gate_.  For an instant he hesitates, not quite sure what his best bet is as far as getting something that might actually be able to help fight this, but then he realizes that there’s only one choice, and he connects to the plane of Positive Energy.  The _gate_ opens and a group of weird things that look almost like spheres of energy with tendrils of their own emerge.  _Xag-ya,_ Orbius thinks in disgust.  _They’re not very powerful.  I may have just wasted a spell of the ninth circle._

Indeed, the energons swarm in on the Vestige and are destroyed before they even reach it; but in death they aid our heroes, for each one detonates in a powerful explosion of positive energy!

_Not so bad, after all,_ Orbius thinks in wonder.  He’s flying towards the bridge where the others are, and he casts another _disintegrate_ at the Vestige as he goes, but fails to penetrate its spell resistance.  

“How’s it looking?” Drelvin shouts as Orbius approaches. 

Hard to tell, when you’re talking about a cloud; so Orbius ignores the question and stays focused.  Arrows whiz by, still plugging the Vestige time and again, but it’s _still coming,_ still hungry for more essence.  For an instant, Orbius catches a glimpse of Horbin’s face in there.  Ten Buck Tom is ashen, on the verge of flight.  

It comes for Orbius, moving up and through a _whirlwind of teeth_ that the Eye casts from a scroll.  Then the Vestige is upon them all, destroying the elemental, striking both Orbius and Ten Buck Tom.  Tom shrieks a _greater shout_ at it, but to no avail.  It slides off its spell resistance ineffectually.

“You know,” Orbius says conversationally, “maybe this was a bad idea.  Maybe we _can’t_ just kill all our enemies.”  He sighs and shakes his head, then casts _prismatic spray_.  Beams of brilliant color shoot out, glancing off and through the Vestige and sparkling futilely against the night sky of Moil.  As if in acknowledgement of the attempt, there’s a flash of lightning.

Drelvin snarls, quick draws Patyn’s blade from his sheath and attacks the Vestige.  A daring move, and perhaps the best chance in a very, very bad situation.  He strikes hard, dealing a pair of powerful blows to the Vestige successfully, and it looks badly tattered, like a fog about to burn off in the light of morning; but then Londo strikes and misses, and the thing gathers itself to strike again.  One last blow is all it will take to drop the blackguard.  

Ten Buck Tom, in total desperation, casts a _greater shout._  The sound punctuates the silence of Moil dramatically, and the Vestige shivers and dies.

Ten Buck Tom gapes as the vapors churn and dissolve, and the spirits trapped within howl and scream as they fly free.  Suddenly Angelfire’s eyes focus and she shakily stands up.  “What...?” she gasps.

Unsteadily our heroes look around. 

Could it be...?

”We did it,” Orbius whispers.

A distant shout and Sybele appears on the horizon, silhouetted in an electric flash.  She’s finally recovered her courage.  “Where is it?” she shouts.  

“I think,” Drelvin says cautiously, “that we killed it.”

“I... I...” Ten Buck Tom is still agape at what he did.  

“Let’s get the hell back to Var,” Orbius suggests, his voice still unsteady, and they trump out.


*This battle took two sessions to finish up; Maxwell’s player couldn’t make the second one, so that was the easy way to explain his absence, even though- as a paladin- he’s immune to fear.

**I let Orbius take a new metamagic feat we worked out, Bestow Spell, that (for a +2 level adjust) lets him cast a spell with a target of ‘You’ as a touch spell.  Combined with his arcane reach (he also now has an archmage level) this let him give a _true strike_ to Patyn from a distance! 


*Next Time:* A little nibble of church politics before our heroes return to Moil!


----------



## Greybar

Wow.
That's a fight that the players will be talking about for a couple years...

Good show everyone!

john


----------



## Knightfall

You know, the players were lucky. From the description of the battle, it seems like they took on something way above what is considered a proper level of CR.

Good update, as usual.

Cheers!

KF72


----------



## the Jester

*Lucky?!?!?*  I thought, frankly, that they were _dead._

I have a lot of faith in my players- I (not quite) routinely through adversaries at them that are _way_ out of their leagues, often with a predesigned weakness.  But this time... well... 

The Vestige had a weakness, but for once they didn't have a clue until _after_ they fought it.  And by the midpoint of the battle, I was starting to think they were doomed.  

For once, I'm going to post some stats in this thread, so the players can see what they dealt with...


_*THE VESTIGE*_*

Advanced Paragon Caller In Darkness Variant*
Gargantuan Undead (Incorporeal)
Hit Dice: 26d12+312 (624 hp)
Initiative: +9
Speed: 90’, fly 120’ (good)
Armor Class: 38 (-4 size, +9 dex, +7 deflection, +12 insight, +12 luck) plus incorporeal
Base Attack/Grapple: +13/+61
Attack: Incorporeal touch +40 melee (4d6+20 plus steal essence)
Full Attack: 4 incorporeal touches +40 melee (4d6+20 plus steal essence)
Space/Reach: 20’/20’
Special Attacks: Engulf, psionics, spell-like abilities, steal essence
Special Qualities: Daylight powerlessness, DR 15/epic, fast healing 20, incorporeal, resistance to cold 10 and fire 10, SR 37, turn resistance +2, undead traits, unnatural aura
Saves: Fort +24, Ref +31, Will +34
Abilities: Str -, Dex 29, Con -, Int 29, Wis 29, Cha 40
Skills: Bluff +39, Concentration +24, Hide +32, Intimidate +44, Knowledge (arcana) +22 ½, Knowledge (local- Moil, psionics) +33, Listen +50, Psicraft +33, Search +48, Sense Motive +48, Spellcraft +33, Spot +50, Tumble +33, 
Feats: Alertness, Blind-Fight, Combat Reflexes, Flyby Attack, Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Improved Natural Weapon (touch), Mental Adversary, Quicken Spell-Like Ability (fear)
Epic Feats: Epic Fortitude, Epic Reflexes 
Environment: Moil, the City that Waits
Organization: Solitary
Challenge Rating: 27
Alignment: Neutral evil

*Combat:*

*Engulf (Ex):* The vestige may simply flow over as many creatures as will fit within its body, exposing each to its steal essence ability.

*Psionics (Sp):* At will- clairaudience/clairvoyance, detect psionics, fatal attraction (DC 1d20+37), mass concussion, suggestion (DC 1d20+35); manifester level 48.  Attack/Defense Modes: all/all.

*Spell-Like Abilities (Sp):* at will- fear (DC 51); 3/day- greater dispelling, haste, see invisibility; caster level 15.

*Steal Essence (Su):* Any creature engulfed or touched by the Vestige must make a Will saving throw (DC 41) or suffer 1d6 points of Intelligence damage.  A creature that is killed or has any of its mental attributes reduced to 0 by the Vestige is absorbed into the screaming mass of souls.  The body remains behind, but the soul is lost.  Only a wish or miracle (or the death of the Vestige) can free the soul to allow resurrection.

*Daylight Powerlessness (Ex):* The vestige is utterly powerless in daylight or in the light of the wand of days.  In sunlight the vestige can only take a single move or move-equivalent action each round.


----------



## the Jester

*Look- the Inquisition*

The morning of Windmonth 18, year 368 of Our Lord Galador, dawns over Var with a beautiful orange sky.  The wind scatters twigs and dust as it sweeps through the ruins of the portions of the city still in ruins from Fuligin’s era.  It enters town from the west, as if it were fleeing from some monster tromping inland from the distant coast, and sweeps past an old druid’s grove long spoiled by the evil that Malford and his motleys had overthrown.  The wind makes its way through the ruins of old houses and buildings, then skates across the surface of the Heroes’ Canal before it finds new homes and thriving businesses, the early risers already hard at work.  It passes through neighborhoods rebuilt, torn down and built anew as it winds eastward.  Finally it passes over a great cathedral whose tall, gothic spires stab at the sky, catching the light on gold leafed points.  Many small mirrors, designed to reflect the sunny glory of Galador, catch the rising light and flare into brilliance.  A few columns of smoke rise from the kitchens and several of the colder rooms, but the cathedral is well-designed to keep its warmth (despite its profoundly vaulted ceilings and high archways).  This is the Cathedral to Dexter, built by the King to commemorate the best friend he ever had, who sacrificed himself not once- but twice- to save others. 

The front of the building is a beautiful thing, with stained glass windows glowing with gold and crimson as the beams of the morning sun catch on them.  The entire cathedral is built to impress.  The doors that enter the main front chamber are large and chased with gold.  Statues of white marble flank it; they depict a pair of fierce angels (Michael and Gabriel, to those with the background to recognize them).  The wind sweeps away across the rooftops to the east as two men, garbed in well-trimmed robes of red and violet, are approaching the entrance.

These men are dressed in the robes of the Inquisition.

They let themselves into the cathedral. The acolyte, upon catching sight of them, pales.  He does not know why they are here, but whatever it is, it frightens him.

Our friend the wind, meanwhile, has left the town of Var.  It sweeps over the plains towards the Bendrock Mountains.  It travels fast, and by the time the sun is directly overhead it has reached the rugged hills that cling to their feet.  But we must leave the wind behind for the moment; we’re ready to return to our heroes.  

At the castle, our heroes have spent a night of celebration and whooping it up that broke a few glasses.  Sybele is overjoyed to have Thrush back and the two spend hours alone together, doing- well, we can all assume that they’re doing what adventuring couples do when one of them has his soul restored after having it sucked away, which is have lots frantic sex.  Nothing like almost losing your lover to really make you appreciate him.  Angel and Londo emulate them.

Eventually- about now, at noon- Angel approaches Orbius and gets him to _teleport_ her to the Shining City in Tirchond.  She goes there pretty much to check in, and she ends up, among other things, donating 5000 gold pieces each to the Silver University and the to a food drive, for there is a near-famine in the city.  She’s not happy about it- she wants her city to be okay.  She smiles to herself; she hasn’t spent enough time here in quite a while.  Oddly enough to one who knew of her Lawful Evil predilections but not of her background, Angelfire is in fact a Tirchondian patriot.  Upon her return she vows to check in again soon.  When she relates the news from home to Sybele, Sybele frowns as well.  

Horbin, meanwhile, has walked down the King’s Hill (formerly known as the Baron’s Hill, but hey, times change) that Malford’s castle perches at the top of, and he now strides across the broad Aspen Bridge.  It’s said that the bridge’s construction was considerably aided by the fey; knowing that Malford has many connections, Horbin doesn’t doubt it for a second.  After the bridge he passes through a series of new-cobbled roads surrounded by living town rather than dead city, and finally up to the Cathedral of Dexter.  It is about time that he checked up on Metron; the man’s not stable, and Horbin worries about him fairly often.

When he enters the nave of the Cathedral, an adept seats him and informs him that Metron has been in conference with some authorities of the Church all day.  Horbin heaves a sigh and waits.  After an hour, he decides he’s about had enough; he’ll wait another half hour, but then he’s got stuff to do.

Fortunately, about twenty minutes later, Metron’s chamber’s door swings open and the two Inquisitors emerge.  They walk past Horbin, glance at him, and do a small double take.  Clearly they recognize him.

Now, Horbin the Holy is well-regarded in ecclesiastic circles as a powerful healer and a strong warrior for Good; however, he’s also known as a rather extreme liberal reformist, which is not the kind of cleric that the Inquisition has traditionally counted as among its friends.  The Inquisitors breeze on past, but Horbin’s presence here probably adds to whatever situation they’re here about.  He groans inwardly.

”Metron will see you now,” says the adept, and leads Horbin in.  Metron is sitting behind his desk, looking shaken and despondent. 

“Inquisitors?” Horbin asks.

Metron groans.  “They know things... they know I _see_ things.”

Metron, Horbin knows, has been seeing some sort of weird things swimming through the air around him for months.  Hallucinations?  Perhaps.  But Horbin the Holy has been around enough curses, illusions, monsters, spells and weird phenomena to discount nothing.  Maybe there _is_ something there.  Maybe Metron is on to something.  But whatever the case, he seems reasonably harmless and he is one of Var’s leading Dexterites.

Horbin counsels discretion.  There isn’t much else that he can do.  So he leaves, telling Metron to be careful what he says and to whom.  On the way out, he looks curiously at the minor laypeople around, wondering who among them is a spy for the Inquisition.  It’s said that every important temple has at least one.

The sun’s passage across the sky continues.  By the time Horbin’s heading back to the castle it has crossed its zenith and started swinging down towards the sea in the west, into which it will plunge at dusk.  _What would it be like to see that?_ Horbin wonders idly.  When it finally passes out of sight that evening, our heroes have just finished a nice dinner courtesy of the King and Queen yet again, and Orbius is scribbling on a piece of parchment while the others watch.  

“All right,” the Eye is saying, “we this is the riddle at the entrance to Moil.  This tells us what we have to do.  I’m going to figure out _how_ with a _contact other plane._”

When he’s done writing the riddle out from his prodigious memory he reads it aloud.

“_This City That Waits was the city of Moil,
Where dreams truly died, but bodies yet toil,
In slumber unrelenting they lie yet in wait
Biding their time to seal your fate.

Discovery of the Void and my Fortress within
Demands exploration through peril again.
Find amid towers degenerate the single key
And resolve the dilemma of problems three.

Beard the brine dragon in its frozen hollow; 
Remove the key, avoid its starved swallow.
Beneath webs of glowing emerald 
Hangs a riddle-box, ripe to be solved. 

The darkweaver endures the cold in her lair; 
Grasp your fate with consummate care. 
The lifeless dream that marks the crime 
Is the Vestige that guards the sand of time.

Each resolution removes one obstacle
For those who pursue this written oracle; 
The Phantom released flies you in fashion
To my inevitable Fortress of Conclusion.”_

He hums and haws for a minute, then says, “Well, it’s obvious what we’ve got to do.  There’s a dragon, this darkweaver, whoever she is, and the webs of glowing emerald.”

“Let’s do the dragon first,” Drelvin says eagerly.  “I like killing dragons.”

Orbius casts his spell.

Which tower houses the lair of the brine dragon?  _The Aqueous Tower._
What kind of breath weapon does the brine dragon have? _Acid._
What type of energy attack will be most effective against the brine dragon?  _Don’t know._
Which tower holds the emerald webs?  _Don’t know._
Is the key to the portcullis that holds the phantom flyer in the lair of the brine dragon?  _Yes and no._

_We probably need something from each of these locations,_ Orbius reasons.

Will a _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_ destroy the bars holding the phantom flyer?  _No._
Will protection from negative energy protect us from the starved swallow of the key?  _You misunderstand._

_Hm, I guess the starved swallow belongs to the dragon,_ he thinks.

Has anyone taken possession of the L’s soul since he’s been in the Void?  _No._
Is he in likely danger of this happening in the next week?  _Yes._
What is our best means of transporting into the Void and being able to save Lester? _The phantom flyer._

“Well, then,” Orbius says cheerfully, “I think we need to figure out which one is the Aqueous Tower.”



_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes return to Moil!


----------



## Knightfall

Excellent update Jester, as usual.

Cheers!

KF72


----------



## the Jester

*The Moilian*

Our heroes return to Moil via _gate_ after discovering that the Tomb of Horrors, and the green face within it, are sealed off from teleportation and similar effects.  This leaves the party a trifle concerned, but when the _gate_ proves effectual, they smile in relief and step back into the cold demiplane of the City That Waits. 

“So let’s see,” says Drelvin.  “There’s this dragon- let’s kill it first- then this dark weaver and its webs of glowing emerald.  Some kind of riddle, and the Vestige- we can check that one off, right?”

“Yes,” affirms Orbius, “but it sounds like there are other challenges here as well, so we should stay careful.”  He slaps an _extra eye_ on Thrush.  

“Here’s another question: do we want to check out all the other towers?  There might be loot.”  Angelfire cocks an eyebrow as she mentions this.  Our heroes consider.  

“We might as well look around a little,” says Sybele hesitantly.  “While we’re here.”

“Sure, especially if there’s something to kill in ‘em!” Thrush adds.  “I have some aggression I need to work out.”  The others nod understandingly.

“Well, you never know- there might be something else we need, or can use, here,” Sir Maxwell says.  “And the city seems pretty... dead.”

The group agrees after a bit of further discussion, and they _mass fly_ to a nearby tower.  Orbius casts _foresight_ upon himself, the better to know when danger is at hand.  He has many sensory inputs going- the _extra eye,_ his _mobile scry,_ his _arcane eye_... Only his vast intellect, combined with his _ultimate concentration,_ allow him to sort it all out.

The lintel of the arch has some sort of sunrise carved into it, but it is hard to make out, being frost-rimed.  Orbius considers reaching forward to rub the frost free, but his _foresight_ warns him, and he warns the others.  “Don’t touch the arch!” he exclaims.  A period of cautious exploration ensues; they find nothing at first, going through a series of icy rooms.  One has a number of different panels painted to depict a variety of landscape scenes.  Another chamber is full of broken rock, as if many statues had been demolished there.  Yet another has a large seat looking out upon a large window to the blackness beyond the tower’s exterior wall; Orbius sits in this to no effect.  In several places, silhouettes are torn free of the ice, leaving humanoid-shaped voids in the shell of ice coating the floor.  The utter silence, save for the noise the party itself makes, is unnerving. 

Then the party finds a room with even thicker ice, partially blocking a doorway shut; and after minimal effort they free it, forcing it open to reveal a room almost filled with ice.  Only a small area remains exposed to the air; in the center of this area is a strange, vise-like device that clasps a wand.  The side of the wand is decorated with runes; Horbin the Holy, with his _helm of subtitles,_ informs the others that the runes spell out the word “Kindle.”  

“A command word,” Orbius surmises.

The base of the vise, covered in frost, is decorated with runes as well.  “The choice of Days empowers the wand, but the choice cannot be made from here,” Horbin reads aloud.

“So we have to find something else to activate it,” Drelvin says.

“Do we even need it?” asks Thrush.

“Maybe it’s a trap,” Sybele points out.

They ponder this for a while.  “We can always do a bunch of divinations on it and find out if we need it,” Orbius suggests.  The group agrees that this is the wisest course, and they leave the wand for the moment to continue their exploration.  

As they explore the tower, Drelvin opens a door to a chamber full of old empty bookshelves that run top to bottom.  As he glances around- the others are searching the room he’s in and its other adjoining chambers- he spies what appears to be a corpse on the ground a short distance away, and he steps forward to check it out.  

Then, suddenly, a wave a nausea hits him.  He feels his vigor and health draining away- and the corpse suddenly shambles to its feet!

“Guys!  Trouble!” shouts the archer, and he moves back, whipping his bow out and pulling an arrow to string.  The others are moving towards him rapidly, and Orbius, able to see the shambling undead thing as it stumbles forward, fires a _magic missile_ at it.  Much to everyone’s surprise, the thing falls.  

Angelfire moves in carefully, not trusting such an easy victory.  But as she moves forward she starts to smile as she sees it stand up.  Thrush and Horbin, ahead of her, cry out as they are subjected to the life draining that Drelvin felt.  

“Something’s not right here!” Horbin cries, casting a _holy aura_ around the party.  

Drelvin fires a series of arrows so fast nobody’s quite sure how many fly into the thing, but it collapses again.  “Keep your distance!” the archer warns everyone. 

“I don’t like this,” says Thrush, taking but another step and then slamming his blade- which seems to have erupted into his hand from nowhere- into the body again and again.  Chunks of frozen meat and icy bone fly into the air.  Sybele, Angel, others are moving in to follow his example.

Then they _all_ scream in pain and nausea as the life draining sucks at them again, drinking their vitality greedily.  And, once again, the Moilian zombie struggles to its feet.

Orbius, meanwhile, has noticed something very disturbing: they’re being scried!  He falls back into the room the party was searching when Drelvin found the zombie and looks around for any sign of more of the zombies.

_Who’s scrying us?_ he wonders.  There certainly is no shortage of candidates.  Assuming the worst, it’s Felenga.  And in that case, ain’t no way he can dispel it.  And he’s busy besides.  “Throw it out the window!” he shouts to his comrades as Horbin drops it again- after a ruthless succession of blows from the warrior-types- with a _heal._

Sybele cries, “I’m gonna smash the window!”  She just looks in its direction and suddenly there’s a blast of concussive force that blows the glass outward with a loud clapping sound.  

The party falls back as the thing drags itself back up.  It seems to be absorbing their life if they’re close enough; most of the party has realized, by now, that distance is the key.  Even Patyn and Sir Maxwell back off as it starts moving towards the group.

With a sneer on his lips, Londo channels the dark power of the Void all around them and seizes control of the zombie.  He gestures once towards the window, and the creature staggers over to it and throws itself out without a sound.

“Whew,” says Horbin, “that was nasty.  Sounds like it’s time for some _restorations_.”

As he prepares to restore the party’s drained constitution, Orbius it preparing to cast a _contact other plane._  After the group discusses what he should ask, he casts his mind towards a great power.

Who am I speaking to? *Old Grandmother.*
Considering what resources we have, what’s our best attack against the brine dragon?  *Fire.*
Is it harmful to our quest to kill it?  *No.*
What attack forms is it extremely resistant to?  *Acid.*
What’s the brine dragon’s favorite thing to eat?  *Pickled humans.*
Exactly how many days until the L is beyond our reach?  *Two.*
How many days flight will it take on the phantom flyer to reach Lester?  *Can’t.*
Will a _wish_ or _miracle_, combined or separately, properly worded, bring Lester back?  *It’s a start.*
What would be the completion?  *Raise dead or resurrection.*

“Damn,” Orbius swears.  “All right, guys, we can get the brine dragon today, but tomorrow we’ve got to get Lester!”  He explains what he’s learned and the group solemnly agrees that Lester’s rescue should be seen to.  “After all, you guys just risked _everything_ to rescue me,” says Thrush with a shudder.

Orbius suggests that the party seek the dragon out.  “Enough with this lootless tower!” he cries.  “If we need to, we can come back to it.  Let’s get on with this and take care of the dragon!  He’s bound to have loot.”

“Lester’s influenced you quite a bit,” remarks Horbin.

The party seeks the dragon.

_*Next Time:*_  Poor dragon, hunted by our heroes...


----------



## the Jester

*Poor Dragon*

Orbius, as usual, leads our heroes to right where they need to go.  A _greater scrying_ followed by a _locate creature_ sees our heroes through the chill air of Moil, its silent towers like exclamation points above the mists of the Void below.  The Aqueous Tower pulls into view as they streak along, following the Eye’s direction, and soon they hover before it.  Three bridges lead to it, each joining the tower at an open archway.  Within, the dark tower is empty- no rooms, no floor, no ceiling except for the great dome far above. 

But below them there is water. 

“There’s some kind of key down there,” Orbius tells the group, gazing through his scrying sensor.  (Thanks to his _ultimate concentration,_ he can cast other spells and so forth without giving up his scrying efforts or other concentration-requiring effects.)  I think we need to pass the dragon to get it.”

“Let’s go!” Thrush cries enthusiastically.

“Wait a sec,” Horbin says nervously.  “We don’t just want to charge right into a dragon’s lair, do we?  It’s probably well-prepared and full of traps or something.  Plus, it’s underwater.”

“How come this water isn’t frozen?” Sybele asks.

“Salt,” Orbius answers.  “It’s full of salt.  Look, you can see deposits around and stuff.  As to the dragon, it’s sleeping right now.”  

“I don’t want to go down into that water even to ambush it,” Drelvin says.  “It looks _cold_ in there.”

“Maybe we can lure it out,” suggests Sybele.  

“Perhaps an illusion of pickled humans could entice it.  I could create that.”  The Eye strokes his chins.

“Dragons are hard to fool,” Drelvin the Archer points out.  “Perhaps if we got some _real_ pickled humans, we could lace them with poison!”  He grins.

“Nobody’s getting any pickled humans,” Horbin chides.  

“We’ll just kill it.  We can cluster around the entrance and whack it when it appears!” Angelfire enthuses.  

“But how are we going to get it to come out after us?  If we go poke it we probably won’t be able to get away fast enough, and a lot of our weapons won’t work so well.”  Drelvin looks interested nonetheless.

“I’ll send something _else_ to go poke it- maybe some elementals.”  Orbius starts casting.  _Of course it should be elementals- to honor the L!_  Soon his water elementals have arrived, and they head down in the water and into a small network of underwater tunnels bored from the thick slabs of salt that have precipitated from the water, almost completely filling the lower third of the tower.

Soon, Orbius reports that the dragon is awake and is coming in their general direction.

Our heroes tense, manifesting a variety of powers, casting spells and activating equipment.  A stranger would see people seem to blur and displace into new locations, multiple images spring up around others, new arms sprout from yet another.  And then, as his multiple perceptual channels take in the dragon approaching, Orbius _time stops,_ then _dimension doors_ behind the dragon and seals off any possible retreat with a _wall of force._  Returning to the party he fires off a volley of _seeker missiles._  “That should get its attention!” the Eye exclaims to himself.  

***

Sodiux the Brine Dragon was startled into wakefulness by a watery bug, but he knows that for anything to disturb him there must be someone here- in Moil.  They must be after the key to the phantom flyer’s harness.  There is no other answer.

So he destroys the elementals- bah, they’re not even worth eating, just flavorless water- and starts cautiously moving out of his lair towards the innards of the tower.  Along the way- he takes his time- he feels the water pressure change subtly.  _Someone’s sealed off my lair!_ he thinks.  _But I can hear them without... so, they seek a confrontation!_ 

Sodiux casts _shield, haste_ and _mirror image_.  A quintet of _seeker missiles_ streaks in, spattering harmlessly off his wards, and Sodiux quirks an eyebrow.*  _Good taste in spells,_ he commends his soon-to-be victims.

Slowly- savoring their fear- he flexes his long tail and propels himself forward.

And things do not, at all, even a little bit, go the way Sodiux is accustomed to.

Just as he emerges, a _greater dispelling_ from Horbin the Holy washes over him, dropping all his buffs in one fell swoop; and then Thrush is unleashing the horrendous flurry of death he’s known for, actually breaking the bones in one of its foreclaws!**  Then Angel swoops in next to the huge face of the dragon and lops off its right ear!**  Sodiux screams in worse pain than he’s felt in quite some time, rearing up- and Drelvin fires, sinking an arrow into its momentarily exposed heart.**  

The corpse slowly settles in the water.

“I killed another dragon!” Drelvin exclaims.  

***

A few hours later, they’ve cleaned out the lair and identified and divided the loot.  Orbius receives a _ring of silent spells_ and a _helm of underwater action._  Horbin receives a _shield +4_ and a breastplate worked from adamantine.  Drelvin receives an _amulet of natural armor +3_ and a strange magical arm; should he lose one he’s ready to replace it.  

“I wish it was a leg,” he mutters to himself.***

Thrush gets a pair of magic boots and a strange figurine of an _ebony fly_.  Sybele herself receives some _bracers of archery_ (Drelvin wears powerful _bracers of armor_ and so declines them).  

Angelfire receives a _shield +4_ and a curious mask, shaped like the green face that sent them here.  Orbius identified it is a very powerful item called the Mask of the Devourer.  Other than that, he couldn’t get much out of it.  

She puts it on immediately.

”Oh yeah,” says the Mask.

“Angel?” asks Orbius cautiously.  Londo is watching, his face an impassive mask, but within him he’s worried again. 

“I’m here,” comes Angel’s voice.

“Can you take it off?”

”Don’t even try,” the Mask says in a warning tone.  ”I’m far too powerful for you to trifle with!  If you aren’t careful, I’ll _devour_ you!”

“Dammit, Angel, why couldn’t you learn your lesson from the Deleter?” Horbin exclaims.



*Just like a regular _magic missile, seeker missiles_ are thwarted by a simple _shield_ spell.

**Crit!

***Drelvin ain’t kidding.  He’s lost a leg in just about every big combat he’s taken part in.  Well, that’s an exaggeration, but not by much- I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pc lose his leg as many times as Drelvin.


_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes return to Cydra to attempt to save the L!


----------



## omrob

the Jester said:
			
		

> The corpse slowly settles in the water.
> 
> “I killed another dragon!” Drelvin exclaims.
> 
> ***
> _*Next Time:*_ Our heroes return to Cydra to attempt to save the L!




I don't even think Sybele got an attack off at all, maybe just a partial action.

All powered up and nowhere to go...


----------



## Knightfall

the Jester said:
			
		

> “I don’t want to go down into that water even to ambush it,” Drelvin says.  “It looks _cold_ in there.”
> 
> “Maybe we can lure it out,” suggests Sybele.
> 
> “Perhaps an illusion of pickled humans could entice it.  I could create that.”  The Eye strokes his chins.
> 
> “Dragons are hard to fool,” Drelvin the Archer points out.  “Perhaps if we got some _real_ pickled humans, we could lace them with poison!”  He grins.
> 
> “Nobody’s getting any pickled humans,” Horbin chides.




This was my favorite part. Horbin is definitely one of my favorite PCs in this storyline. Of course, Lester is my favorite. I hope they can save his butt from a boring afterlife. Then again, with Lester, he's likely to "pull something" while dead too. Heh.


----------



## Dakkareth

Dead? Afterlive? He's in the friggin _void_! Or something. Great stuff


----------



## the Jester

*Diamond Hunt*

A shortage of diamonds- it seems our heroes have bought most of the ones of significant value lately, emptying the jewelers of Var of the precious commodity required for so many powerful spells.  

Orbius determines to _teleport_ to Kseethee, the strange flying city of great magical power.  Almost anything can be found there; surely diamonds will be no problem.  He casts _discern location_, and ascertains that it is above the Lantern Forest in the nation of Wulcasta above the continent of Belwur far to the east.

With a frown, Orbius has to admit that Kseethee may prove tricky to reach.

Our heroes discuss questions for a _contact other plane_ or _commune_ spell from the Eye.  Horbin says, “Ask where Till is.”

“He’s with Marius on the Plane of Time,” Orbius answers.  

“He needs to give him back to me.”  Horbin has a dangerous look on his face.

Orbius opines that Marius will give Till back to Horbin about the same time that Horbin services Marius orally.

“Marius needs to realize who he’s dealing with,” Horbin says hotly.

Orbius asks Sybele when Jezebel will be returning, and is told “a few days.”  Nodding reluctantly- he wants to see her badly, in a way he’s not fully comfortable with- the Eye sets about composing his mind and disciplining his thoughts before sending his vast intellect deep into the upper planes, searching for a mind of singular power.  And he finds it.

Will a _miracle_ or _wish_ followed by a _resurrection_ bring back Lester?  *True resurrection (yes).*
Who am I talking with?  *GALADOR.*

Gulp.

What tower do we need to go to next in Moil?  *The Tower of Morning.*
What tower has webs of emerald?  *The Tower of Webs.*
What did the Vestige guard?  *Souls.*
How is Till keeping up with Marius?  *He despairs of rescue.*
What will the webs of glowing emerald do to us if we touch them?  *Freeze and entangle.*
Is my _simulacrum_ still loyal to me?  *Yes.*
What will we need the brine dragon’s key for?  *To release the phantom flyer.*
Give me the name of a successful Peshan master trader we can find in Pesh City to get the diamonds we need?  *Logthian.*

Sweet sleep is next for our heroes- it feels like a million years since they last had a good night’s sleep in a bed, with pillows and clean linens and a bath and all those things civilized folk so take for granted.  

Not many baths in Moil.  No clean linen in the Tomb of Horrors.

The next day sees our heroes, via _greater teleport,_ in Pesh City.  

Sadly, Pesh City appears occupied by the Forinthian navy.  Our heroes exchange a glance and take a variety of measures to appear unobtrusive (including Sybele turning into a stone and Thrush getting _polymorphed_ into a normal human), and then Orbius casts _mass fly._  Almost as soon as he takes to the sky, however, he sees _invisible_ machine-like inevitables patrolling the skies.  Cursing, he warns the group to land, and they keep to the streets and move carefully, avoiding Forinthian patrols.  

As they move through the seaward side of Pesh City, they can see a large flotilla of Forinthian warships in the harbor, their gold and white flags snapping in the wind.  

They find their man, but they find they have to wait in a considerable line of rich Peshans.  All their bluster and flashes of gold do out heroes no good.  So in the line they wait.  It’s a fairly unremarkable wait; at least, until the ethros appears _invisibly_ in the room.  Only Orbius notes his arrival (due to his permanent _see invisibility_) and, much to his consternation, the ethros is looking directly at him.

Orbius knows little about the ethros; he knows that they are a blue-skinned humanoid race of long fingers and tall form; and that they are seemingly immortal.  He knows of Zsadly the Sadist, an infamous ethros wizard; he knows that they are traditionally very powerful.  

He doesn’t know much else- for instance, why one is walking towards him invisibly across a room full of rich Peshans.  Orbius’ heart races as he debates opening fire with his magic, but before he can even acknowledge that that’s the Lester in him talking, the ethros is speaking in his mind.

_You seek Kseethee.  I am willing to take you there._

Unsettled, not certain what exactly is going on here, Orbius thinks back, _And what would you want in return?_

_Ten percent of all transactions you make._

“Ten percent!” Orbius exclaims aloud.

”What?” asks Thrush blankly.

The Eye casts a _Rary’s telepathic bond_ and the group converses freely among themselves.  Orbius tells them about the ethros’ offer and they all suspiciously agree to decline.  The ethros departs peacefully enough, but it puts the group on edge.  

How did he _know_ they were looking for it?

The party’s turn in line finally comes, and they purchase some stones.  They learn that diamonds, among other things, are being watched as a commodity due to the war. 

“This is ridiculous!” Orbius protests.

“It’s war,” Horbin and Sybele say together.



_*Next Time:*_ In a few short moments, an update written by Lester’s player!!


----------



## the Jester

*Lester's Third Coming*

Lester's 3rd Coming		

Freshly stocked with diamonds, the party makes its way back to Var.  Horbin leads them into a suitable room: Malford's 3rd floor "napping" room.  The walls are tastefully lined with large illusions of sunsets, waterfalls, and a crackling fireplace.  They select a long couch big enough to catch Lester's 5'6" frame, including bat wings.  

Horbin spreads the necessary diamonds upon the couch in a vaguely humanoid shape and prays silently to Dexter.  He walked with you during your Second Visit, prays Horbin.  Please find our friend and bring him back to us. 

Orbius concentrates and pushes any traces of distraction away.  This Wish must be flawless, he ruminates.  I do not have enough within me to make this effort again.  One slip and Lester is gone... forever.  

"Let me ask for some advice before we do this," states Orbius.  He closes his eyes briefly, shutting off the constant blue glow of his arcane eyes, and all of his features go blank.  He then nods, smiles, and says, "Divinations are great when they confirm what you already know.  Let's just keep this simple."

Londo flashed a sly look at Angel.  I hope she does not test Orbius for knowledge of the Deleter, he considers.  Perhaps the Mask shall keep her occupied... but I'll need to remove it soon!

"I WISH LESTER'S SOUL FREE OF THE VOID!!!!" shouts Orbius.  Everyone sees him shaken violently by some unseen extraplanar force.  To Orbius, lost in the unique awakening that results from touching the near Divine, a colossal pillar of white light floods his soul.  All possible realities flow before him, beginning with Lester entering the Devouring Mouth and ending with instant his Wish was cast.  It then reverses itself, quickly consolidating into the time line that shrinks all realities before him and explodes into a soul draining wave.  		

Sybele extends a large arm and catches Orbius as he momentarily loses balance.  "Careful, Orbius.  I wouldn't want my Baby's new Daddy to fall on this most precious asset."  She pats his head and waits till he steadies himself.

"I cannot see if I was successful, but I feel it... somehow," whispers Orbius.  

Horbin boldly steps forward and kneels before the couch.  He looks at the diamonds precisely arranged in a humanoid form and begins to pray aloud.  His voice echoes forcefully thru the napping room.  "Our Ever-Loving Lord Dexter, whose vision sees us all despite his blindness, lift Lester, High Priest of the Church of Elemental Good..."

The diamonds slowly begin to crack under the pressure of Horbin's spell.

"...2nd Edition Galadron companion of Dexter... Angel of Adventure for your good friend, God King Malford . . ."

Wisps of flame sprout out of a diamond's cracked body and swirl with intangible bits of air appearing from another diamond.  Small flecks of earth rise out of others and turn into globs of clay when they meet the particles of water eager to join.  

"...who, yes its true, does usually seem to get a little too excited when we divide up treasure... but Lester is always there for us as he tried to be there for you..."

The four elements quickly build into a flash of light, roughly humanoid with bat wings.  All but Horbin are forced to look away.

"...yeah, he makes mistakes, but he does respond very well to OUR positive example... pull him back to us SO THAT HE MAY FULFILL HIS DUTIES TO GALADOR AND CRUSH THE TEMPLE OF ELEMENTAL EVIL!!!"		

Slowly, Payton turns his face towards the couch and can barely believe his eyes.  "Blessed Lord of the Sun, what miracles you bring to us from your Son!"

 Everyone can see Lester sitting awkwardly upon Malford's regal couch.  His exterior looks perfectly intact.  Horbin gets up and quickly moves as Drelvin rushes in with a pail of water.  He laughs heartily when Lester screams with surprise and rise up as his least dominant Element washes over him.  

"AHHHHHHH!!!!!"

There is a moment of silence and all stare at a naked Lester.  Sybele can't help it as he eyes drift downward.   Not bad, she thinks, but our Angel of Adventure is no Thrush!

"How do you feel, Lester?" asks Horbin concernedly.  "Are you ready to grasps this second chance to try to overthrow Felenga?"

Lester staggers, wavers, and starts to fall.  Thrush and Orbius rush forward to steady him.

"Ha, you survived you stupid fool!" shouts the Mask.  "You survived the Void itself!  Let's hope you survive me!  HAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

Lester does not stop to acknowledge the Mask of the Devourer's obviously sinister and evil viewpoint.  He lifts his once missing right arm and points it at the door.  "Uhhh," he grunts.  "Mmm... weapons..."  They carry him out into Var's streets.

"Let this mark Lester's 3rd coming, and may Var hopefully be blessed by this occurrence," mumbles Horbin as he slaps a robe across Lester.  "For the Angel of Adventure's company can often have unpredictably beneficial luck for his companions."  

They quickly make their way thru the streets, half carrying Lester, and find their favorite Armory.  A new sign, notes Angelfire. Iron and Silver, huh?  Looks like they are under new management.

Ten Buck Tom squirms his small, gnomely body between the various humans carrying Lester and approaches the counter.  "Greetings my fair dwarves, I think you know us all.  Show us you goods and let's have some fair prices!  Lester here has return from the Void and is in need of some new digs.  He has been great business for this shop.  You practically owe him low prices and excellent credit options!"

"Hmm," snorts the burly red-bearded dwarf, clad in a well-used leather smock. "We just got here and don't know him or any of you.  You'll get fair prices, but absolutely no credit!"

The shopping experience is extremely brief for the party.  Lester is fitted for Armor of Moderate Fortification and then finds himself broke.  "I have traveled the realms and done right by all of you.  So, if anyone has some gold pieces I could sure use a few."

"Well, I might have something for you," smiles Angel.  Sybele notices a very relaxed look on Angel's face.  Quite a change from when she wore the Deleter . . .

"I know you use a shield.  Take his one for now; it has decent defensive properties.  However, I must make you swear to give it back.  I will need it for the Angelfire Museum within my new keep."

"Fool," shouts the Mask.  "He'll just lose it when he jumps into the Void again!  Lucky I haven't sent any of you there!"

Payton looks menacingly at the Mask and steps up to Lester.  "You may use this Flame Tongue.  It is only fitting, as I've heard tales that you carried one on your first adventures with Dexter.  However, I will require a oath similar to what Angelfire has asked of you."

For what it's worth, Lester swears to return the items and then takes their stuff. 


_*Next Time: Back to Moil for more trouble and toil!*_


----------



## the Jester

*Return to Moil*

The highest circle of spells is of immense power.  The ability to bend time and space, the ability to summon monsters of horrendous power to the material plane, the ability to unleash untold devastation- anything seems possible.

In a few days, when the party has found _Desatysso’s renewing reward_ and one of them has fallen victim to it, when even _wishes_ seem powerless against it- then it will not seem so.  But for now, as the party charges through a _gate_ back to Moil, anything seems possible with the power at their fingertips.  Between Orbius, Horbin and the now-restored Lester, our heroes have enough magical might to crack an island, enough power to ravage a nation.  They are powerful enough that they have almost no peers.

Yet, as they step into the frigid darkness of Moil, they all feel a moment of fear- some only subconsciously, but fear just the same.  They all know just how dangerous the path they are following is.  From Faericles to the Vestige, they have fought beings of singular deadliness everywhere.  Even their easy victories, such as the brine dragon, have been victories over lethal adversaries.  They dare not relax their guard for an instant.

There is muttered discussion about the merits of searching through all the towers, and the party is of mixed opinion on the subject; so they elect to check a few towers for anything of interest first.  Besides, they don’t know exactly which tower the Tower of Morning is.

“Why are we going to this tower again?” asks Thrush.

“We don’t know,” Orbius says.  “But my spell told me that it was the next tower we needed to go to.”

“Well, didn’t you say something about a Tower of Webs?” 

“That’s where the dark weaver is, whoever she is, with her webs of glowing emerald.”

“Why don’t we go kill her?”

“I bet,” Horbin says, “the Tower of Morning is where that ice-choked room with the wand we found is.”

“Oh yeah!” Drelvin exclaims.  “We need to activate it or something, right?”

“There was an inscription,” Orbius muses.  “’The choice of days empowers the wand, but the choice is not made from here.’”

“Wasn’t there a room with a bunch of panels in it?” Horbin exclaims suddenly.

“That’s right!  A bunch of different scenes, with a road or path in each- and each at a different time of day!”  Orbius nods, grinning.  “That’s probably it!  And I can probably divine which one we want.”

Happy to have figured that much out, our heroes elect to explore a few of the other towers before moving back to claim the wand.  The first one they enter is a large empty shaft with a thick central support and a few platforms that hang by metal stairs in empty space.  The platforms have arches at their ends, and our heroes surmise that these arches are portals of dubious functionality.  Rather than chances a trip to somewhere mysterious and unpleasant, they stay on target and move on to another tower.  This one is even emptier- it’s only a shell around blackness.  No floors or features have survived Moil’s wrenching journey to the very edge of the Negative Energy Plane.

Our heroes head towards the next tower.  As they approach, flying via _mass fly_ spells, they find that the bridge that leads to the tower ends in an archway that opens into another hollow tower.  This time, however, a sickly green glow becomes visible as our heroes approach.  Looking in-

“Webs,” Lester says, speaking up for one of the first times since his resurrection.  “Webs of glowing emerald.”  And, ever the adventurer, he grins fiercely.



_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes do battle with a rather large number of web-spinning creatures!


----------



## the Jester

*Webs of Glowing Emerald*

Experienced adventurers that they are, our heroes expect trouble from the glowing webs.  So a small contingent drops down to below the bottom of the webs- the tower seems hollow other than the webs, according to Orbius’ amazing powers of discernment.  Below the webs hangs a cube of metal- “The riddle-box spoken of on the obelisk,” Orbius surmises.

The group agrees to split their forces.  Lester, the Eye and Drelvin will go below, to where the riddle-box hangs, and will _stone shape_ an entrance in the side of the tower.  Meanwhile, up above, Patyn, Horbin, Thrush and Sybele will cause a ruckus and try to draw out whatever lurks within the webs.  

They put their plan into action.  The L _stone shapes_ a hole just big enough to peek through, seeming to become more animated as the need for action and adventure courses through his revivified veins.  He looks through.  “There’s the box,” he whispers.  “And below it’s another winter-wight!”

The winter-wight in question hangs from the underside of the box; its icy form seems content to walk upside-down on the bottom of the riddle-box as casually as if it were standing on normal ground.  The baleful black flames that dance around the winter-wight’s skull testify to its deadliness.  The metal cube upon which it stands hangs by a single thick, rope-like strand of webbing from the underside of the layer of webbing.

The winter-wight turns to regard the hole Lester shaped, small though it is.  

“Uh-oh!” the L exclaims.  

The winter-wight jumps from the bottom of the cube towards the inside wall of the tower, sailing out of view.

“Uh-oh,” Drelvin groans.

The three _dimension door_ upwards, directly to the rest of the group, who have entered the tower (for the most part) and are watching in horrified fascination as the webs _vibrate_ quickly.

“Something’s coming up,” calls Sybele.  She’s already got an arrow nocked.  

Then they start bursting up from below- spider-like things, bloated on terror and broken dreams.  Seemingly made of shadows and dark green evil, the things tear at our heroes.

But the singing arrows of Sybele and Drelvin, the incredible blasts of Lester and Orbius and Horbin, the mighty swordsmanship of Patyn and Thrush- these things are like a wall the shadow spiders cannot penetrate.  Again and again, more of the huge things rise from the webs, until more than a baker’s dozen have been put down.  

“Careful!” Orbius cries.  “Don’t do too much damage to the web or we’ll lose the box!”

“And there’s a winter-wight coming,” Drelvin adds, his lips quirked in a grimace as he shoots down yet another spider.  

As if he were a prophet, the air suddenly grows painfully cold as the winter-wight emerges from the webs and blasts the group with a _cone of cold._  Only Thrush and Patyn are caught in it, but they both cry out as the ice cold frost drives deep into their bones.

Horbin gulps as he sees the undead thing ascend, clambering up the side of the tower quite easily.  He casts a _righteous might_ in preparation for a deadly melee.

The winter-wight, still creeping up the wall, unleashes another _cone of cold, catching the entire group this time._  It cackles gleefully, an odd sound in the otherwise almost-silent environment.  But the chill that smashes into our heroes is no laughing matter.  

“Undead, begone!” cries Horbin the Holy, and he channels searing holy energy, attempting to turn it back.  His faith is strong, but the winter-wight’s power is great.  It is too close to the Negative Energy Plane to drive off here.  Then Thrush and Patyn charge in on both sides, slamming their weapons into the monster, hacking at it fiercely.  

The winter-wight is still standing on the inside of the tower while our heroes buzz about it, striking mighty blows at it, but suddenly the icy undead leaps from the tower’s periphery at Horbin!  Grabbing the cleric, it tries to set him alight with its black flames!  Horbin screams in pain and terror and struggles free of the thing’s grasp, thanks only to his enlarged stature.  He shakes it free and hits it with a quickened _searing light_ as it starts to fall, then Drelvin launches a volley of precise arrows at it, shattering the winter-wight into fragments.  Our heroes watch the shards fall into the Void below.

“Let’s get that box,” suggests Horbin.  


_*Next Time:*_ The riddle-box!


----------



## omrob

I just want to let everyone know, that Lester's player is as crazy, innovative  and cool as Lester is...right down to the monster 'fro. He's a savage beer drinker, guitar player, and Warrior of Chaos. w00t!


----------



## Cheiromancer

Sweet!

Jester, I just wanted to let you know that your frequent updates are much appreciated.  This is one of my favorite story-hours.

One question: what does the Mask of the Devourer do?  Is Angel still wearing it?  Hmmm.  I guess that's two questions, isn't it?


----------



## the Jester

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> One question: what does the Mask of the Devourer do?  Is Angel still wearing it?  Hmmm.  I guess that's two questions, isn't it?





What, you mean _other_ than talk smack?

Wait til they meet the Doctor- then you'll see!


----------



## the Jester

*The Riddle-Box*

Our heroes nervously free the large cube from its emerald tether.  Sybele and Thrush (both of whom are larger than a normal member of their race through one form of magic or another)* fly up beneath it and catch it before it plunges into the Void.

“Let’s take it back to Var to mess with it,” Orbius suggests, and the others agree.  A short trump contact later, the party has returned to the town that has become- more or less- their base.

The box is big and heavy, and with a grunt the two oversized adventurers deposit it on the ground.  A close examination while it was still hanging had revealed three panels and some runes, and now our heroes examine the thing more closely.  Horbin, with his _helm of subtitles,_ translates the runes: “Many tails have I,/ or many a beginning;/ If I fail people sigh;/ Wails mark their passing.”

The three panels bear images of a mighty oak tree with many branching roots reaching into loamy soil, a cat with many hissing snake-headed tails, and a rope with one end frayed and partially unraveled.

“It’s the rope,” says Sybele instantly.

“Hold on,” Orbius cries.  “We should be careful- it might be some kind of trap!”  

Sybele shrugs and subsides as the party renders up its customary flurry of divinations.  A pair of _auguries_ are cast to determine whether weal or woe will result from pressing the cat or the rope panel; but the answer in ‘neither.’  Orbius casts a _vision_ and sees them touching one of the panels, but on Moil.  “We have to take it back to the City That Waits to use it,” he tells the others.

“Tomorrow,” says Angel.

***

That night, Sybele continues to expand her power of _metamorphosis_ by changing into many different forms for Thrush’s enjoyment, starting with that of Queen Moira.  

***

In the morning, Horbin issues a _sending_ to Till.  _Don’t give up!  I haven’t forgotten you- are you being treated well?  I’m coming for you!_

There is no reply. 

Near the end of breakfast, the group is summoned by King Malford.  “I’ve got to deal with a giant insurrection in the mountains,” he announces.  “Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone, all right?”  He glares at the L.

“Of course not,” Lester agrees easily.

“No more turning the hall to magma, or mud, or whatever!”

“Er, right,” Lester nods.

“And I’m sending you a bill for the repairs you’ve required.”

“No problem, no problem.”  Inwardly, the L thinks, _Damn- I’ll have to go adventuring some more.  I don’t have any money._

Malford grunts and dismisses them, and our heroes once more take themselves away to the Demiplane of Moil, rooted at the edge of the Negative Energy Plane.

***

Lester _auguries_ on the subject of touching the rope face of the cube, and the result is ‘weal.’

“That’s the bad one, I think,” the L comments.  “No, wait a sec-“  

Orbius, ignoring him, casts an _augury_ regarding touching the tree.  The answer is ‘neither.’  Nodding his head, he touches the rope panel.  Nothing visible happens, so he _scries_ the phantom flyer.  With a grin, he declares, “The red bars are gone!”

***

”What do you suppose the sands of time that the Vestige guarded were?” Horbin asks.  “We probably need them, right?”  

“Good point,” Sybele says.  “Maybe Orbius or Lester can divine where they are.”

Lester’s already done so.  “The Dreaming Tower,” he announces.

“That sounds familiar,” Angelfire muses.

“Yeah,” says Horbin, “remember that Faericles guy?”  Drelvin shudders.  “He said something about that!  He was guarding it or something, right?”

“Hey, now that I think about it,” Angel answers slowly, “wasn’t there a bridge that led out of the room he guarded?”  She’s gazing at his tower.  “I see the one we went in on- when we worked our way up through the rooms of the tower of test- but not the one we saw from inside.”

“You’re right,” says Drelvin.  “It’s only visible from within!”

“Don’t tell me we have to work our way back up through there,” Patyn groans.

“I don’t think so- maybe we can fly up and find the bridge.”

It’s about time for another _mass fly,_ so after that our heroes take flight.  Indeed, they find the bridge- including a small opening in the side of the tower that leads back into Faericles’ chamber.  They enter; from within, the bridge outside is plainly visible.  And so is the tower it terminates in.

Our heroes take to the bridge.

Soon they have entered the next tower.  A short hall has doors at either side; it ends at the central pillar that supports the shaft of the tower.  A gaping hole in the floor leads to a dizzy fall to the Void churning below.  

On a jutting platform affixed to the central pillar is a red stone dais, on which is an hourglass filled with blue sand.  A message is engraved into the stone next to the hourglass in the same red stone as the platform itself.  Horbin reads, “When the sand run out bring the glass about.”  He turns to the others.  “Pretty self-explanatory.”

He flips the hourglass and the sands start to run.  Orbius sends his _mobile scry_ to check the phantom flyer, but the situation is the same. 

“I think we have to run the glass out and flip it again,” he states, and when they do- after an hour- his scrying eye shows the truth of the matter.  “It worked!  Two sets of bars down...”

Also in the tower the group finds a large store of vials of something that Horbin tells them is labeled ‘lucidaphen.’

“What’s that?” wonders Sybele.

“I’ve heard of it before,” Ten Buck Tom states.  “It’s supposed to induce dreams of prophetic power!”

“It looks a little messed up, though,” Thrush says.  “Look- these are kinda amber, but this one’s dark brown- yuck, it looks like it’s starting to congeal.”

The group again breaks into a debate on the merits of trying the lucidaphen when they rest.  “After all, we don’t really know what to do next at this point,” points out Thrush.

“We should go after Acererak and destroy him!” exclaims Patyn.  For once, Angelfire agrees with him.  They exchange a frank look.

Everyone else, however, agrees that Felenga has to be their target.  “He’s the key to _everything_ we’ve been involved in for months,” says Horbin.  “Let’s finish him off!  That takes care of the Temple of Elemental Evil, it clears up half our problems in one fell swoop.”

“What else does Acererak’s riddle tell us?  We killed the dragon and the dark weaver with her glowing webs-“

“What if the emerald webs and the dark weaver are separate challenges?” suggests Thrush suddenly.  

“That might free up the last set of bars holding the phantom flyer,” answers Sybele.

“Okay- well, I’ve burned up most of my divinations for the day,” says Orbius.  “Plus we’re out of flying and stuff.  So let’s rest-“

“And try this lucidaphen stuff,” Angelfire interjects.

“-and tomorrow, we’ll try to figure out our next move.”


*One of Sybele’s warrior of chaos abilities was a size increase, with all the impressive stuff that entailed.  Thrush was subject to _enlarge_ and _permanency_ by Orbius.  Both of these things were in the story hour, but for those of you who either missed it or don’t go back that far, there’s the scoop. 


_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes take drugs and have weird dreams, then talk about it!  Much information is divined!  And our heroes find a real live Moilian!  (Yes, live as in living!)


----------



## the Jester

The lucidaphen tastes awful, like eating Lester’s shoes after he’s been on the road for a year or two and never taken them off.  But several of out heroes sink into an easy sleep before too long, thanks to Angelfire’s _nap_ spell, and several of them are plunged into vivid dreams.

Horbin dreams of their last encounter with Felenga.  He dreams of the group retrieving the familiar and then leaving, but his dream’s eye stays focused on the ice tower.  It wanders up, up... and somehow Horbin knows that time has passed, a full day by now... and Felenga returns to the area, entering an icy cave.  He lays a _symbol of death_ almost casually within the passage, then blasts something free from the ice.  

Slowly it stands.  Set in its chest is a great glaring gem.  It is stitched together like a flesh golem, made of pieces of different creatures joined in an unholy fusion.  

Somehow, Horbin realizes that this is Felenga’s phylactery.  And he realizes just how close they were to the phylactery when last they encountered Felenga himself.  

_We were within a hundred feet, maybe even more like forty,_ Horbin the Holy realizes sickly.  _We could have done it- finished him right there!_

He wakes up, blinking, and sits up.  “Rargh!” he cries, “We almost had him!!”  Quickly, he relates what he has learned to the others, and they all shake their heads in disgust at how near they came to ending this and destroying their foe.  

“Well, I found out that the hourglass flipping only deactivates the bars for an hour,” Sybele tells the group.  “So we have to bring down the last set before we flip the glass a second time.”

“I don’t feel well,” Angelfire mumbles.  “I didn’t learn anything, but I think I got a bad dose.”  

“Hah!” cries the Mask of the Devourer.  “Of course you didn’t learn anything!  You’re a fool!”  Horbin and Patyn exchange a glance.

Clearly, it’s time for some divinations.

***

Orbius sends his mind out to a far plane, trying to glean information from an immense consciousness of unbearable power.

_Where is Felenga’s phylacter?_ *Uncertain, probably near him.*
_Where does Felenga spend the majority of his time these days?_ *The Negative Energy Plane.*
_Is Felenga’s base of operations on a planar border?_ *No.*
_What is Felenga’s most like course of action?_ *He must wait.*
_What is he waiting for?_ *Freedom.*
_Freedom from what?_ *Acererak the demilich.*

_What the hell?_ thinks the Eye.

_How many days until Felenga gains his freedom?_ *Impossible to predict.*
_Are the Elemental Princes of Evil still in the Temple of Elemental Evil?_ *Yes and no.*
_Are they in the nodes?_ *No.*
_Where can we find Ogremoch?_ *The Walking Mountain.*

Orbius relates what he’s learned, and boy oh boy but our heroes are puzzled.  They chew the situation over at length.  Acererak’s imprisoned Felenga?  How?  For that matter, why?  At least, points out Patyn, they aren’t working together.  Finally, Thrush asks, “Can we do more stuff to find out more stuff?” and Lester grins and casts _commune._

_If we kill Acererak will Felenga be eternally imprisoned?_ *Possibly.*
_Will we set Felenga free if we kill Acererak?_ *Possibly.*
_Will Acererak seek to free Felenga if we attack him?_ *Very unlikely.*
_Is there a tower left in Moil that we haven’t explored with some good action and treasure in it?_ *Yes.*
_Is Acererak pleased with our progress through his gauntlet?_ *Yes.*
_Is Felenga beyond our reach right now?_ *No.*
_Do we have the power to set Felenga free?_ *Yes.*
_Is the ride to the Fortress of Conclusion on the phantom flyer more than a day long?_ *Yes.*
_More than two days long?_ *Yes.*
_Three days?_ *Yes.*
_Four?_ *Yes.*
_Five?_ *Yes.*
_Is it more than a week?_ *No.*
_Is Felenga imprisoned within Acererak’s Fortress of Conclusion?_ *Yes.*
Envisioning the layout of the towers of Moil that he’s seen, Lester asks, _Is the ‘action’ within the red tower to the south of our initial arrival point here?_ *Yes.*
_Is the Devourer’s Mask likely to take over Angelfire within a day?_ *No.*
_Will the Mask turn on us if we fight Acererak?_ *Yes.*
_Is it within our means to remove the mask without killing Angelfire?_ *Yes.*
_Will we be able to remove the Mask easily by conventional means if she’s subdued?_ *No.*

“Hmm, sounds like a long ride!” Lester exclaims, and gives the party a summary of what he learned- leaving out all questions regarding the mask until he can speak to those not wearing it without Angelfire overhearing.  _Maybe Londo could help,_ he thinks hopefully.  _He’s the one who got the Deleter off her, which reminds me- where the hell is it?_  For now, he puts the question out of mind; he’s still got a _divination_ to cast.  

A moment later, Lester declares, “Next we must overcome the darkweaver!  But I thought we just did.”

“It must be a different creature, in a different tower,” nods Horbin.

“Of course it is, you fools!” the Mask cries.

“Well, you’re very helpful,” snaps Horbin.

“Maybe you could help us out,” Sybele suggests.  “Can you do anything to help?  Do you know your way around this place.  Surely a great and powerful item such as yourself has seen much.”

”Oh, I have indeed!  It’s good that you recognize my powers, perhaps I’ll spare you!  But trifle with me and I shall devour you all!”

“Right, very helpful,” Horbin grumbles.

“Well, what next?” asks Thrush.  “Where’s the darkweaver?”

“Hum, that’s a good question!  Shoulda thought to ask that.”  Lester ponders for a minute, then brightens.  “Hey, but we know where the action is!”

“Well, then, sounds like a good place to go,” Thrush smiles.  

“And tomorrow- when we have more divinations- we can track down the darkweaver- and free the phantom flyer,” Patyn says dramatically.


_*Next Time:*_ Our heroes find some action- though probably not exactly what they were looking for!


----------



## the Jester

*Mirror, Mirror*

As usual, Orbius scouts the way ahead with his scrying sensor and _arcane eye_.  The tower where the ‘action’ is reputed to be is mostly strewn with debris.  Frost is everywhere, but here and there humanoid silhouettes are torn out of the ice that has formed everywhere.  There are no immediate signs of danger, so our heroes move in and start searching around.  

But, as Angelfire moves up a spiraling staircase tiled in green and blue, they find something interesting: a small satchel.  Within it are a bunch of spell components of varied dubious nature: bones, scraps of leathery flesh, pickled eyes, and so forth.  The interesting part isn’t the contents; it’s the labels.

“There are written in Forinthian!” exclaims Horbin.  

There are no clues as to the satchel’s owner or his (?) fate, and nobody really wants the satchel so they leave it behind.  

Then, as our heroes move into another chamber full of debris and ice, Angel and Patyn glance up to note a mirror on the ceiling.

Next thing they know, each of them is trapped in a white, shapeless void.

***

“Watch out!” Orbius cries.  “It’s a _mirror of life trapping!_  Don’t look up!”

“I’ve heard lots of stories about this kinda thing,” Ten Buck Tom says.  “If we break it, they should be freed.”

“Let’s hope so,” says Horbin.

They Eye blasts the _mirror of life trapping_ on the ceiling with a _lightning bolt,_ and the sound of shattering glass is easy to discern; and with a ‘whoof’ both Angelfire and Patyn crash to the ground.

But so do two other forms, and suddenly everyone feels themselves starting to lose their life energy as it’s sucked into at least one of the creatures that just arrived.


_*Next Time:*_  Who’s the chick??


----------



## the Jester

*A Real Live Moilian!*

Waves of cold, life-sucking negative energy roll from the stiff corpse that’s even now pulling itself to its frozen feet.  Someone- a female voice- is screaming in fear and pain in a language that a few of our more religiously learned heroes recognize as Abyssal.

Angelfire and Lester both move to attack the Moilian zombie as the screaming woman moves aside, pulling a shortsword out and backing away.  Falchion and longsword crash into the grey flesh of the undead Moilian, knocking it back a few feet to where Londo has taking a stance with his flail; and he swings like a baseball batter, connecting with the small of the zombie’s back with a bone-shattering crunch.  

Patyn smiles as he levers himself up.  He swings his deadly _sun blade_ and the zombie’s head flies from its shoulders.  Unlike their previous experiences with the Moilian undead, the life-draining aura stops instantly.  

“Like I told you,” Patyn says in his gravelly voice, “I kill ‘em _dead._”  And he sheathes his sword.

“Who’s the chick?” wonders Thrush.

Meanwhile, Orbius- with his _permanent tongues-_ is trying to calm the woman.  “It’s okay, we killed it,” he reassures her.

“Who are you people?  What- what happened to the Tower of Chance?”  She shivers.  “It’s so cold... where are the attendants?  _What’s happened?!?_”

“Uh, I think we’d better show you your city,” Orbius says slowly.

***

“No,” she whispers.

The woman- whose name is Lerxst- is a Moilian of old.  She was imprisoned in the mirror as a result of losing a game of chance.  How long ago?  Who can say.  Long enough, certainly, that she did not know of Moil’s terrible fate.  

But she does now.

She is visibly crushed as she looks out the arch that leads out of the tower.  The strobing lightning is the only illumination; the dark, numbing cold has a firm grip on Moil.  “My people,” Lerxst whispers to herself.  Her tears start turning to ice on her cheeks.  

“Right, well, nothing to be done now,” says Lester cheerfully.  “Listen, when we go back to our plane you can come with us.  Just stick close to us and we’ll protect you.  How’s that sound?”

“Do I have a choice?” Lerxst snaps bitterly.

“Not really,” answers Angelfire.

Our heroes keep exploring the Tower of Chance, searching for anything intact- a cashbox, anything.  In a room that is obviously the remains of a bar, they find a hidden drawer containing some coins, minted with Orcus’ visage upon them.  

Then, as our heroes enter a large room with three huge windows open to the black sky of Moil, a blast of freezing air runs over them.  There are cries of pain as the chill soaks into them and a winter-wight steps into view.  Instantly, Orbius casts _lower resistance_ at it, and Lester follows with a quickened _fire dagger_ and a maximized _flame strike._  The winter-wight, taken aback by this sudden onslaught of terrible holy flames, hisses in anger, but then a pale ray of green light shoots from Orbius’ finger- and the winter-wight _disintegrates!_

“Well done!” cries Thrush.  “I hate those things.” 

“They aren’t fun,” agrees Patyn.  

***

Continuing their explorations, our heroes find a room with a bizarre, haphazard shape.  There is more debris, like everywhere else here, and of course the omnipresent ice; but here there is a table still upright, with a wheel of sorts set upon it.  All along the edge of the wheel are little slots, in one of which is a small black ball.  Next to it on the wall is a plaque.

“In games of chance there are risks to be taken; the winner is rewarded but the loser forsaken.”  Horbin purses his lips, reading the Abyssal inscription with his _helm of subtitles._  “Interesting.”

“I wonder what the wheel’s for,” Angel muses.  As she speaks, it abruptly starts to spin.  The little black ball bounces from its slot and dances merrily across the spinning wheel, until finally the wheel slows and stops and the ball lands in a slot.

Angelfire gives a terrible cry.  

“What happened?” exclaims Sybele.  

“I- I don’t know,” Angel winces.  “Something... I feel like a piece of my life energy has been stolen!”* She groans in consternation.  “What just happened??”

”Fool!” cries the Mask.  ”That’s what you get for trifling with things beyond you!”

Horbin tries a number of powerful healing and restorative spells, but none seem to allow Angelfire to recoup her loss.  “Wow, that sucks,” Horbin states glumly.  “Maybe tomorrow I can come up with something...”

“This is terrible!” Lerxst says, speaking Abyssal, which, of course, only a few of our heroes can comprehend.  “Terribly dangerous... we should go!”

“Hey, we’ve got things to do, but we’ll go back to a safe place before too long, and then you’ll be safe.  Meantime, just stick with us- we’ll keep you safe.”  Orbius smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring way.

“Either way, let’s get out of here so we don’t activate that thing again by accident,” Angel groans.  The party assents and they all move into a nearby room.

“Maybe you said something that triggered it,” suggests Sybele.

“It’s obviously some sort of chaotic gambling device,” Lester opines, “where you can win or lose big.  So if you feel lucky and you can figure out how to do it, you should go play.  But if you mess up, well it might hurt.  So it really just depends on how lucky you feel.  Do you feel lucky?”

After some debate- Horbin strongly urges against it- Angel goes back into the room with the wheel and fiddles around with it some more.  She can’t find a mechanism, so she talks aloud at it for a while.  Then Thrush comes in to join her.  “Hey, come on- you don’t know what might happen with this thing.”

“I obviously lost when it activated before.  I want to know what would have happened if I won!”

At that moment the wheel reactivates.  

”Ah, crap,” says Thrush.

_Tink tink tink!_ goes the little black ball, bouncing, bouncing, and finally coming to rest. 

Angelfire tries to shriek but can’t.  She tries to raise her hands to her face but can’t- her hands are gone.

And even if she could- beneath the mask, her face is gone, too.

”Idiot!  I warned you!” the Mask of the Devourer cackles gleefully.


*She just lost ten hit points permanently.  Oops, how’d that happen??



_*Next Time:*_ Horbin does some divining, Sybele gets an idea, and Lerxst finds out just how safe our heroes can keep her!


----------



## Knightfall

Damn, Angel's luck has been real bad lately. She should learn to leave well enough alone. No face, ,no hands, that's not good... for her and for Londo.


----------



## the Jester

*No Face Angel *

“This is probably not our most shining moment,” comments Horbin dryly.

“Angelfire!” Londo groans.  

No hands, no face...

”You’re useless,” the Mask of the Devourer sneers to Angelfire.  “I should devour you now and put you out of your stinking misery!”

“No!” barks Londo.  “Surely it will better if you simply move to a new host- someone more capable of fulfilling your needs.”  A grim smile traces his face.

”Are you volunteering?”  The Mask’s voice is jovial, but tinged with threat.

“Oh yes,” Londo answers, never blinking, and the Mask flows from Angel’s featureless head to his, pulling itself eerily up his arm and over his face until he bears the Devourer’s visage.

”Much better!  Fool!  Now I can see!”

“I’m not sure if I like this,” Horbin whispers to Lester.

***

With the Mask off of her, our heroes determine to use the strongest magicks at their disposals to try to repair her- after they regain their spells.  For Horbin, that’s only a few more hours.  So they explore a little further, Londo leading Angel along and the voice of the Mask, always sneering, echoing behind.

As they walk along the frosty crust above the floor, Sybele says to Thrush, “This place gives me an idea!”

“What’s that?”

“We should open a casino!  With all the money we’re gonna make from the demilich, and Felenga, we’ll be rich!”

Thrush smiles.  “Yes- once we’ve dealt with our enemies.  And then we should _retire,_ and raise our children.”

That word makes Sybele shiver inside.

They don’t find much trouble, but our heroes do find a magical cloak.  The entire party has magical cloaks that they don’t want to give up, so they give it the Lerxst.  She puts it on gratefully, and then gurgles in displeasure and sinks to the floor drooling.

“Oh no!” Horbin exclaims.  He whips the cloak off of her, but it has no effect.  He groans.  “Didn’t we just tell her how safe she was with us?”

“You can fix her,” Lester smiles.  “I have faith in you.”

***

That evening, after regaining his spells, Horbin the Holy _communes_ with his god.  Orbius pesters him to check the loyalty of his _simulacrum_, but Horbin refuses to commit.  “Only if I run out of better questions to ask,” he finally half-agrees.

_Is the girl’s intelligence drained?_ *No.*
_Is her wisdom drained?_ *No.*
_Is her charisma drained?_ *No.*
_Will a _greater restoration_ fix her?_ *No.*
_Will a _heal_ or _mass heal_ fix her?_ *Yes and no.*

_It must be a curse,_ Horbin thinks.

_Is the darkweaver in this tower?_ *No.*
_Is there treasure above us in this tower?_ *No.*
_Is Till conscious most of the time?_ *No.*
_Is he is some kind of suspended form?_ *No.*
_Do we still have to face the darkweaver to kill Felenga?_ *Probably.*
_Will completing our quest here weaken the Temple of Elemental Evil?_ *Yes.*
_Will the Temple of Elemental Evil attempt major military campaigns in the spring or summer?*_ *Yes.*
_Before the summer?_ *Yes.*
_This month?_ *No.*
_Do the uprisings Malford is putting down have anything to do with this?_ *No.*
_Are there spies for the Temple of Elemental Evil within Malford’s court?_ *Yes.*
_Are any of these spies in his bodyguard?_ *No.*
_Are any regular attendees at court?_ *Yes.*
_Are any noblemen of Dorhaus?_ *No.*

_What the hell,_ he sighs.

_Is Orbius’ _simulacrum_ still loyal to him?_ *Yes.*

_Well, that’s something, anyway,_ the cleric thinks.

Horbin relates the gist of what he’s learned.  “We need to warn Malford,” he says grimly.  

“No problem,” reassures Lester.  Shortly, Orbius trumps to Var, then back to Lester.

“Those are my only two trumps left,” groans the L.  “Oh well, easy come, easy go.”

And he sighs, thinking of all the rest of his old friends whose cards he had- Thimbleton, the illusionist; Stone D. Mason, dwarf and lord of Platinum Peak; Hobbes, the tabaxi psion/thief, and Mary Nine, the fur golem; Malford himself (until the King took it away); so many others... some of them people he hasn’t seen or spoken to in a long, long time, like... hell, probably even Malador!  Whatever happened to that half-voadkyn, anyway?  Traveling, probably... adventuring somewhere.  Or secluded in the woods...

Some of them were dead, of course, like Alcar; others of unknown fate- what was the name of that one poor soul that Felenga turned into a chicken-legged, cursed freak?

What ever happened to her?

Questions for another day.**

While Lester ruminates on his old friends, Horbin pulls out all the stops in trying to fix poor Angel, and after a combination of _heal, remove curse, miracle, greater restoration, break enchantment_ and _regenerate_***, he succeeds.

“Thank Coila!” Angel exclaims. 

Time for a new tower.  There’s no more _mass flying_ available today, so Horbin utilizes a _wind walk,_ and soon our heroes have arrived at the next one they’re going to investigate.  Entering, they find it to be another tower full of smashed and jumbled furnishings, but it takes them less than two minutes to come upon an inhabitant.

In a room that looks like a bedroom that had been kicked by a giant, a young, white-skinned woman sits wearing a grey robe.  A white smock covers it.  As the party tromps in, she lifts her head and speaks in that creepy-sounding dialect of Abyssal that we might just as well call Moilian.  To those that can understand her- mostly Orbius, with his _permanent tongues_- she says, “Hello- are you hurt?”  She sounds almost hopeful.  “Are you feeling poorly?  I am a fully functional medron!  I can help you with your wounds or hurts.  It has been so _very long_ since I have laid eyes upon a living being!”  



*Before asking this question, Horbin asked what season it was.  It’s spring- the date in game is 3/10/368 O.L.G.

**And, eventually, potentially, the Early Years thread. 

***Or something like that.  


_*Next Time:*_ Meet Dr. Tarr!  And Dr. Tarr, meet... the Mask of the Devourer!


----------



## the Jester

*Quick character update*

As of this point in the story hour, our heroes consist of:

Horbin the Holy (cleric 20, CG)
Angelfire (psychic warrior 14/cleric 4/templar of Coila 4, LE)
Sybele (Large fighter 8/egoist 10/warrior of Chaos 2, CN)
Lester  (elementalist 14/warrior of Chaos 4/divine oracle 1/contemplative 1/paraelementalist 1, CG)
Orbius (diviner 7/divine oracle 10/archmage 2, CG)
Londo (fighter 6/cleric 1/blackguard 10, LE)
Patyn (paladin 8/hunter of the dead 10, LG)
Rex (dragon disciple 10/ranger 1/sorcerer 1/fighter 1/monk 5, LN)
Ulla (druid 7/shifter 10/warshifter 1, N)
Drelvin (fighter 6/order of the bow initiate 10/rogue 2, CG)


----------



## the Jester

*The Mask Gives a Demonstration of its Power*

For quite some time, our heroes have found that one of the best spells for them as a team is _Rary’s telepathic bond._  They usually have one going between the majority of the party, at least while they’re adventuring; and now is no exception.  

Over the bond, Angelfire comments, _I don’t trust this woman._

_She said she’s a medron,_ Orbius reminds her.

Patyn: _She’s neither evil nor undead- but that doesn’t mean we should trust her._ 

The group follows Cyndea the medron (whatever in the Nine Hells that is) as she leads them deeper into the tower (which she tells them is the Tower of Health).  Their breath puffs in the cold air; she does not appear to breathe.

Cyndea leads them to a room shaped like a pie slice with the tip chopped off.  The room is full of beds, and the ceiling is shrouded in shadows over thirty feet above.  “Doctor?” she calls.  “We have a patient...”

Suddenly a shape detaches itself from the darkness above, folding downward on a thick tether like some mechanical serpent.  “Ah, Cyndea!” a fatherly voice calls, and our heroes find themselves facing a bizarre meld of humanoid head, torso and arms, and strange mechanical limbs that look designed for surgery, including circular saws that look capable of cutting through bone.

_I don’t know about this,_ Lester hesitantly sends over the _telepathic bond._

“Well, let me examine the patient!” the weird doctor says, all business.

“Friends, this is Dr. Tarr.  He is expertly trained by the best of Moil’s great physicians.”

The group reluctantly pulls the drooling Lerxst forward for the doctor.  Strong metal arms pull her gently up to a platform near the ceiling.

”Hey, wait a sec...” says Horbin.

“Just doing some tests!” the doctor affirms happily.  The party can see him lay Lerxst’s form on a bed.  Dr. Tarr then looks in her mouth, eyes and ear, listens to her heart, performs a few magical tests, and frowns.  

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to perform a few more tests,” he announces regretfully.  “I need to keep the patient under observation for a while.”

“How much of a while?” Horbin demands, obviously getting irritated.

Angelfire is nervous about this ‘doctor’ as well, but he has a great deal of faith.  Coila will lead him in the right direction.  So comforted, he casts _augury_.

_Will it be beneficial or baneful to let this doctor keep Lerxst any longer?_

*BANEFUL.*

_Attack!_ Angelfire shouts through the mental link.

Thrush is a blur, and suddenly the doctor has a great rent in his side, from which oils and lubricants begin to flow.

Patyn draws his blade and cries, “Prepare yourself, Doctor!  You threaten our friend and our mission.  Defend yourself!”  And he casts a furious glance at Thrush for attacking without warning.  Horbin nods sagely, fully understanding Patyn’s little speech.  Sybele moves in as well; with both her and Thrush in the way, Angel can’t reach Dr. Tarr; however-

Angel turns and rushes forward at Cyndea, turning partway through the charge to avoid some beds.*  Her falchion slices out, dealing a tremendous wound to the medron, who cries out in pain as her fluids begin leaking as well.  

“Why?” Dr. Tarr cries out as a hail of spells from the L and the Eye blast him.  He swings down on his thick tether and fires a cloud of gas out, which rolls over a few of our heroes. 

Ten Buck Tom inhales some gas, coughing heavily, and falls over, unconscious.

“Tom!” cries Horbin.  

Londo has been hanging back, talking to the Mask he’s wearing.  “What can you do to help us?”

”Why should I help you fools?  You’re weak!”

“And you’re powerful, right?  Or so you say.  But so far it’s all talk.  If you don’t show some signs of your power soon, nobody’ll believe you anymore.”

Cyndea backs away from Angelfire, screaming, “Don’t hurt me!”  She touches herself and some of the damage knits up; but Dr. Tarr is not so lucky.  He shrugs off a _Marius’ deconstruction_ cast by Orbius, but then something terrible happens. 

In the corner, the Mask says to Londo, ”Fine!  You want to see my power?  Step forward, towards the fool from the roof!”  Londo obeys instantly; he wants to know what’s he’s gotten himself into.

The doctor glares as Londo strides forward, but then the Mask cries, ”Now, you fool- I WILL DEVOUR YOU!!!”  And its terrible black maw opens wider, wider, impossibly wide, and in one terrible instant the mouth snaps shut over Dr. Tarr.

And then the tether dangles uselessly from the ceiling.  The Mask is humming, making chomping noises.  A few pieces of metal fall to the ground.  

Shocked, our heroes stare at the Mask for a moment. 

Cyndea screams again.  

“Oh yeah!” Angelfire beams, and turns to finish the medron off.

“No!” Patyn cries, stepping in front of Angelfire.  “She’s done nothing!  I shall protect you, maiden!”

“She’s a machine,” Angel points out, amused. 

“Nonetheless.”

Angel shrugs.

“Yeah, we should save her,” says Sybele.  “She’s just trying to help.”  And over the mindlink, _And maybe she knows something.  Maybe the doctor had some tools we can use to help Lerxst..._


*This via the Psionic Charge feat. 


_*Next Time:*_ The doctor’s tools!


----------



## Cheiromancer

I found this update disturbing.  Can you tell us what would have happened if Lerxst had been left in the doctor's care?


----------



## the Jester

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> I found this update disturbing.  Can you tell us what would have happened if Lerxst had been left in the doctor's care?




Sure!

He would have kept doing tests, and eventually moved to a variety of drug-related therapies... when those inevitably failed, he'd have attempted what amounts to electroshock therapy for a few months... when that failed, he would have tried to persuade someone else to donate some cells to try to flush out whatever was messing her up, and in collecting the cells he'd end up with another patient locked down in the intensive care ward...

Well, or maybe he would've put her in the piece of equipment our heroes will find next update, and- well, you'll see.  That might have changed everything.

 

Glad you're reading, Cheiromancer!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

I am returned! And all caught up!

Glad to see your excellent high standards haven't dropped at all, Jester.


----------



## the Jester

Hey Tallarn!   Good to see you again!


----------



## PallidPatience

Blast! I hate making it to the end of a great story hour! MORE!

Blast but you guys play great games!


----------



## the Jester

Hey thanks, PallidPatience, and welcome to the story hour.  I'll post an update in a lil bit this evening just for you.


----------



## the Jester

Orbius trumps Cyndea back to Var, leaving her in a guest room in Malford’s castle.  While there, he leaves instructions that she is to be treated well and gently.  Then he makes contact with Lester via trump and returns to the chilly towers of Moil.

“Well, what now?” asks Thrush.  The group is gathered around Lerxst.

“Nothing I’ve done has been able to help, but I can try some more stuff tomorrow,” Horbin offers.  

“Maybe the so-called ‘Doctor’ had something that could help,” Angel suggests, but she shrugs, clearly not too concerned.

“Good idea,” Orbius nods, and casts his _mobile scry._  The sensor explores the tower fairly thoroughly, and the Eye tells the others that he’s found... something.

Soon they’re in the room with the ‘something,’ and it’s a fairly impressive something indeed.  A heavy iron cylinder supported by a broad stone base squats in a large chamber.  The cylinder is about 30’ long, with a 10’ diameter.  A small hatch hangs open, revealing a small table within.  Fragments of metal litter the floor beneath the hatch.  Directly above the opening is a square of crystal, dark with a single jagged crack visible in its face. 

After a little investigation, the party discerns that little table within is on rollers; it looks just the right size for a person to fit on.  Horbin, using his _helm of subtitles,_ reads the name of the device from above the cracked crystal: “It’s called the deepviewer.”

“It must be for diagnosis,” muses Patyn. 

“Couldn’t really hurt, could it?” Thrush gestures at Lerxst’s drooling form.

Orbius casts _speak with anything_ and asks the device.  “Put the patient on the table.  The patient will be retracted to the viewing chamber.”

They maneuver the poor Moilian onto the table and it rolls deeper within the device.  The hatch grinds kind of half-closed.  On the crystal display, a silhouette of a body lights up, mostly in green, with some other purplish bruise-like color around it.  Then, suddenly, there’s a loud sound like metal squealing, and the silhouette visibly convulses; suddenly the green is entirely crimson.

“The patient has been severely crushed and is in need of immediate emergency procedures,” comes a flat voice from the device.  The hatch bangs open and the table extrudes.

Poor Lerxst, clearly dead, has indeed been severely crushed.  Her body is nearly pulverized.  

”Aw, crap,” moans Horbin.

“Well, you can always raise her tomorrow,” points out Lester.

Horbin gives the L a look.  “I think everyone’s treating dying a little casually these days,” he says sharply.

***

The group rests in Var.  Horbin moves Cyndea to his halls of healing (under construction) and, while she’s there, she gets a chance to start using her fairly good healing skills and powers for the people of Var.  This makes her very happy indeed. 

He also _resurrects_ Lerxst.  When life jerks back into her, she screams long and loud.  

“Hey, relax, you’re okay now,” Horbin smiles at her, speaking via _tongues_.  She turns horrified eyes on him.  

Clearly, her afterlife is not a good one. 

She too stays in Var; Horbin tells her to try to learn the language.  It’s probably the best piece of advice she could get at this point, and clearly Var is better than staying in Moil.  As she keeps pointing out to herself, what choice does she have?  Learning the language it is, then.

Angelfire casts an _augury_ and walks away from it even more determined to rid them of the Mask of the Devourer.  Grimly, she starts making plans.  The irony hits her full in the face when she feels a twinge of pain in her hands, left over from the Deleter.

Patyn.  She has to approach Patyn.

Orbius, meanwhile, casts a _contact other plane_ and learns the following:

_What would the be the best version of _protection from energy_ to prepare against the darkweaver?_ *Cold.*
_What’s its biggest weakness?_ *Sunlight.*
_Is the darkweaver undead?_ *No.*
_How can we lure it into a place that’s advantageous for us?_ *Extremely unlikely.*
_Will I hurt the wand in that tower if I move it from its pedestal?_ *No.*
_Must we do something to activate the powers of the wand?_ *Yes.*
_Does the answer lie within the tower the wand is in?_ *Yes.*
_What must we do to activate the wand?_ *Touch a panel.*
_What does the symbol on the panel I must touch look like?_ *Sunrise.*
_Will touching any of the other panels harm the wand or anyone who touches the wand?_ *No.*

“Well,” Angelfire says, after Orbius relates his information, “why don’t we go after the wand first?”

“No way!” exclaims Lester.  “We have to get the darkweaver first.  Remember, it’s rule number one in the adventurers’ handbook- kill the bad guys _before_ you take their stuff.”

“That’s a good policy,” Thrush affirms.

Our heroes set out to carry it out.  

The party heads to the next tower.  It is without window or feature save the entrance- unlike the other towers our heroes have so far explored, this one has a door.  Carved in bas-relief on the face of the door is the head of a horned ram.

“Orcus,” breathes Horbin.

Scratched below the stone head, unreadable until the party wipes off some of the ice riming it, is a message.  It looks like someone carved it there with a dagger, scratching persistently at the stone until it gouged out his message.

WARE THE WEAVER IN HER LAIR- D

“Who’s D?” wonders Angel.

“Whoever they were,” says Orbius slowly, “they wrote that in Forinthian.”


_*Next Time:*_ The darkweaver!  Featuring the first _teleport_ mishap we’ve had in quite a while!!


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Playing Jester's Game*

Hey, fellow posters!  Just wanted to say that we've had a great time playing Jester Epic adaptation of the RttToH.  It's been very challenging and, sometimes . . . a bit scary.    

My favorite moement in the campaign is when we had our dual winter wight/Falenga smackdown in the room with the caged Phantom Flyer.  First, we get smacked good by our premier encounter with the Winter Wight.  (Angelfire defeated it by knocking it off its ledge with a frickin' Daeran's Instant Fortress!)  Then, as we pathetically attempted to carve our way through ice and zombies to get Mr. Grab, Falenga attacks out of nowhere!

He got all of us with 2 Horrid Wiltings, but was smacked into the Void by my cohort Orbius' nifty Time Stop-Mord.'s Disjunction combo.  The look on the Jester's face was probably exactly like Falenga's:  utterly surprised and totally pissed!

Jester, you've got to tell us how Falenga gets captured by Acererak.  Talk about embarrasing for Falenga!  You start off as Mr. Tougher-than-a-God lich, then get zapped by a bunch of (not even Epic level!) PCs and lose all of your cool stuff (Templates, maybe?).  Now you are only Mr. Epic, but-not-so-Scary-Besides-my-Insane-Spellcasting-Abilities lich.  Then, you are imprisioned by another lich, and its not even a full lich.  Its only a Semi-Lich!  (Yuk, Yuk!)


----------



## PallidPatience

w00t! This must be Lester! Your character is friggin' awesome, man... and crazy! It's hilarious that he gets into trouble for everything.  You're lucky to be involved in the Jester's games... His SH is brilliant, and I can only imagine what experiencing them must be like...


----------



## the Jester

Angel of Adventure said:
			
		

> Jester, you've got to tell us how Falenga gets captured by Acererak.  Talk about embarrasing for Falenga!  You start off as Mr. Tougher-than-a-God lich, then get zapped by a bunch of (not even Epic level!) PCs and lose all of your cool stuff (Templates, maybe?).  Now you are only Mr. Epic, but-not-so-Scary-Besides-my-Insane-Spellcasting-Abilities lich.  Then, you are imprisioned by another lich, and its not even a full lich.  Its only a Semi-Lich!  (Yuk, Yuk!)





Well, since you ask, I'll try to stick that in a post in here somewhere.  At this point it's obviously gonna have to be a flashback, but hey, 'sall good.


----------



## the Jester

Per Angel of Adventure's request, the next post (coming in a bit here today) will show what happened between Felenga and Acererak. 

To my pcs- enjoy this glimpse at a piece of the backstory...


----------



## the Jester

*Felenga Vs. Acererak!!!*

_A few days ago..._

Felenga stands, puissant and mighty, before the terrible entrance to Acererak’s Fortress of Conclusion.  The composite undead with his phylactery sewn into its chest follows him.  He does not know what to expect, but he is certain that he can handle... whatever it is.

And, equally, he is certain that he can persuade Acererak to aid him in destroying those interloping adventurers.  Rage kindles in Felenga’s cold breast.  Oh, yes; they will die.  The next time he confronts them he will hit them with a _disjunction_ of his own, and a quickened _wail of the banshee;_ those that survive will fall quickly to his vast powers.  Oh, yes.  And if the demilich accompanies him- why, together they can destroy the group quickly and with infinite finality.

The gate into the Fortress of Conclusion is another great green face, but this one’s mouth is an actual gate rather than a void of blackness.  Felenga pushes his way through. 

Awaiting him is a winter-wight, its skull crackling with black flames, the rest of its body sheathed in gritty ice.  “Welcome,” it hisses.  Then it cackles maniacally.  “What an... interesting choice you have made, Felenga!  To come here...”  It pauses dramatically.  “You seek the aid of Acererak, eh?”

“Take me to your master,” Felenga sneers.  “I have little patience, and perhaps less time.  And this matter presses on your master as much as on me.”

The winter-wight laughs again, long and loud.  “My ‘master,’ eh lich?  I think you misapprehend the situation here!”  The ice cracks and shifts as the winter-wight raises a hand and gestures.  Felenga is astounded as the winter-wight lays the sign of the devourer upon the wall.

“_You_ are Acererak?  But...”

“My status is more complicated than you know,” the winter-wight says smugly.  “Come, lich, I will show you something.”

Felenga reluctantly trails along as the winter-wight leads them to a corner and then _greater teleports_ them both into a 50’ diameter circular chamber.  Felenga’s eyes widen in surprise.  

The floor, excepting a walkway around the edge of the room, is cut away.  Utter blackness is evident through the hole- it’s an opening into the Void of the Negative Energy Plane.  Above this, resting on a huge metal tripod that straddles the hole, is a humungous gem.  Felenga instantly recognizes it as some sort of phylactery.  It’s a multi-faceted gem of immense size, and each facet holds a silently-screaming, ghostly form- a soul.

Not quite all the facets- most.  There are three empty ones.

“Tell me what it is that you want,” Acererak the winter-wight chuckles.

His gaze lingering on the phylactery, off-balance, Felenga answers, “There are adventurers of surpassing puissance coming for you, Acererak.  Surely you know this.  They are enemies of mine as well, but they will seek you out and destroy you as well.”

“I have encountered them,” the winter-wight confirms insouciantly.  

“Yes, and they drove you off!  Surely you have had enough of a taste of their power to know how dangerous they are!  And surely you realize just how far along they are in your little gauntlet!”

“Oh, yes.”  Acererak’s skull yawns.  “Get to the point.”

“Together we can destroy them!  We can scry them out, empower ourselves with our mightiest magicks, and _gate_ to them while they sleep.  They will not be able to survive.”

“Fool,” Acererak says flatly.  “Your vision is so limited that you have not looked at what is before you.  I am tempted to destroy you for your short-sightedness.  I will not help you.”

Before another instant passes, Felenga blasts the winter-wight before him to oblivion.  It is clear that things will come to this; it is only a matter of time.  The key is to move first, ruthlessly exterminating the other.  After all, it will be a temporary death of a week or less.  But it will give Felenga time to get his bearings and come to an understanding of what Acererak is _doing_ here.

A quickened _lower resistance,_ a _time stop,_ several volleys of empowered and maximized _seeker missiles_, a heightened _disintegrate_- the winter-wight is destroyed.  Felenga turns his attention to the phylactery.  If he chose, he could destroy Acererak forever.  

“Fool!” comes that same gritty voice.  Felenga turns to see a skull, bejeweled in the eyes and teeth, floating towards him.  It seems to be descending from a hidden area above.  “As I told you, my status is complicated!”

Felenga struggles to retain his composure, but surprise is pounding through him.  How could he have reformed so quickly?  A _magic jar?_  But-

The skull cackles.  “Much as it amuses me to watch the stupefied look on your face, I shall enlighten you, lich.”

Felenga doesn’t wait for enlightenment; he casts.  Several of his most powerful wards spring into place, including a _prismatic sphere,_ but the demilich only talks, seemingly careless of Felenga’s preparations.  The Dark One grows angry.  _I am an Angel of the Apocalypse!_ he rages.  _How _dare_ you treat me so disdainfully?!_

“I seek a grand apotheosis,” Acererak rants.  “You see, lich, my ambitions are higher than your silly desire to destroy those adventurers.  I am _testing_ them- _refining_ them, like a rarified oil.”  The skull cackles, light glinting from its gemstone encrustations.  “And when they get here, they will be the final souls fuelling my apotheosis!”

Felenga think, _Keep talking, fool,_ as he casts a _fire shield_ and a quickened _stoneskin._

“And what _is_ my apotheosis, you ask?” Acererak continues.  “I will join myself with the Negative Energy Plane itself!  My essence, my _being_ will _be_ all of undead-kind!  Anywhere an undead exists, _I_ will be there.  Anywhere I wish to be, I can shift my consciousness into.  As you can see, my goals transcend mere godhood.”

Felenga casts _ghostform_ and another quickened _lower resistance_ at Acererak.  Surely the fool will realize he must fight now!

But Acererak keeps talking, paying Felenga no heed at all, making him all the more furious.  “All I need is three more souls to achieve the critical number- but the souls must be refined, powerful souls- souls of incredible perseverance and ceaseless power.  My entire gauntlet, from the Tomb of Horrors to the City That Waits to my Fortress of Conclusion, is designed to ensure that the souls that make it here arrive prepared and powerful, and ready for absorption!”

Felenga casts a quickened _displacement_ and begins summoning a terrible creature.

“In any event,” Acererak rambles, “as to the apotheosis- if I were to help you to destroy those adventurers before they arrived here, I could not use them as my ‘fuel,’ if you will.  So instead, I will add _you_ to the phylactery.  A powerful lich such as yourself is just perfect, and will certainly add a little flavor.  And, as you’ve probably figured out by now, the lattice of power generated by the Phylactery of the Apotheosis is sufficient to allow me to switch my consciousness into any undead within my Fortress- such as that winter-wight earlier...”

The skull lands on the ground.

Felenga’s mouth finishes, “Or yourself, of course.  And though your fitful preparations to assault me were amusing, if I allowed you to finish summoning something like that, you might actually damage the Phylactery.  And we can’t have that.”

Acererak, firmly in control, aborts Felenga’s spell.  “Now into the phylactery we go!” he says cheerfully.


_*Next Time:*_ All right, where were we- oh yeah!  The Darkweaver!


----------



## Knightfall

Holy crap!


----------



## SeldomSeen

Wow!  I always love to hear about the stuff that goes on in the background we don't get to see.  And I always love to see arrogant punks like Felenga get put in thier place, even if it gets done by the bad guys.  

SeldomSeen


----------



## omrob

the Jester said:
			
		

> “Fool,” Acererak says flatly.  “Your vision is so limited that you have not looked at what is before you.  I am tempted to destroy you for your short-sightedness.  I will not help you.”




Ha SNAP! Take that! _Slaps Felenga open-handed_

Those liches are such egomaniacs.

Too bad Sybele was all tied up when the party met Acererak, I would have loved the deragtory, pedantic ramblings about apotheosis.


----------



## the Jester

*The Darkweaver*

“Well, this is the place,” Orbius says nervously.

_To recap:_

The party stands in the chill black air of Moil, the City That Waits, a demiplane teetering on the edge of the Negative Energy Plane.  The tower of the Darkweaver- whatever _that_ is- is before them.  They must enter it to free the phantom flyer, which will take them to the Fortress of Conclusion where they can fight Acererak, the demilich of the Tomb of Horrors.

Scratched in the stone of the tower’s door is a message in the party’s native tongue.  The people of Moil (our heroes have determined) spoke Abyssal.  Ergo...

“Someone’s been here before us,” muses the Eye.

“Right, well, let’s go kill the darkweaver!” urges Lester.  

“Hold on a second,” Horbin cautions.  “We don’t want to go in unprepared.”

_I hope it’s undead,_ thinks Patyn. 

Thrush draws his sword.

Sybele scratches her butt.

“All right,” Orbius declares, “I’m sending my scry sensor in.  Let’s see... hallway... whoa, it’s dark.  I should be able to see better... hmph.  Something weird’s going on in there.”  He frowns, unnerved, then casts _mass darkvision._  Even so, he cannot see far in the tower.

“All right, why don’t we teleport inside the tower somewhere and try to hit it from an unexpected direction?” Sybele suggests.

“Good idea!” Lester beams at her.  “Orbius, can you _mass teleport_ us?”

“Yes- I’m putting my sensor in a large open space now.  I’ll be able to send everyone else first, but I’ll have to trump in separately afterward.”

“No problem,” says Thrush.  “And then hopefully we can find this thing quickly.”  He grins wickedly.

Orbius casts his _mass teleport_ and sends the party in, but he immediately becomes aware that something’s gone wrong.  His scrying sensor, inside the tower, in the space where the party should have arrived, shows no sign of them.  _A mishap,_ he thinks bleakly.  _Hopefully it’s not too bad..._  He pulls out Lester’s trump but, after a moment’s concentration, discovers that he cannot make contact.

Growing worried, Orbius reluctantly _teleports_ in alone.  He materializes in a black hallway that seems to be choked with tangible strands of darkness and gloom.  Slowly he starts exploring, sticking to the left hand wall.

“Left to live,” he breathes.*

***

“Where’s Orbius?” asks Lester after a time.  “Why hasn’t he made contact yet?”

Sybele says, “Maybe this tower blocks trumps.  Or these... strands.”

The party is in a hallway of black stone.  Eerie strands of blackness, like darkness made manifest, twist in the air like webbing.  Their caress is oily.

Ten Buck Tom says, “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Horbin asks worriedly.

Sybele uses her _control sound_ power to shout, at the volume of a lion’s roar, “ORBIUS!!!”  

“Surely, if he’s nearby, he’ll hear that and try to follow the noise.  We might as well explore the nearby area,” suggests Thrush.  The party has already spread out a little.  Their visibility, even with the darkvision they all possess, is only about ten feet.  It’s _dark,_ unnaturally so.  

***

Orbius does indeed hear something.  It’s clearly a loud yell, probably his name-

He hears something else, skittering towards him, and turns to see a horror from some insane nightmare.  A dark form, spider-like but with horrible tentacles instead of legs, and black eyes everywhere, the darkweaver emerges from the gloom and lunges to attack the Eye.

Orbius screams and instinctively _greater teleports_ away, heading towards the noise.  

***

“What was that?”  Ten Buck Tom looks wary, almost panicky.  

”I heard it too,” confirms Angelfire as she manifests _animal affinity_ to gain the strength of a tiger.

“Me too,” Sybele adds, manifesting an extended _displacement._  “That way!”  She points.

“Let’s go!” Thrush draws his blade and starts moving in.  Lester draws upon his new powers as a contemplative of Malford** and casts _greater aspect of the deity_.  Then he starts moving after Thrush.  The others join them, manifesting and casting a variety of buffs and defenses as they go.  

***

Orbius redirects his scrying sensor.  He still doesn’t see his friends, but he can hear stuff starting to go down back in the direction of the darkweaver.  It’s so _dark!_  He looks in on the lair with his sensor, then summons a huge air elemental.  As it arrives he immediately begins another summoning.

***

Ten Buck Tom casts _daylight_ upon his rapier and moves forward.  It still doesn’t illuminate much of anything, but it pushes the strands back another 10’.  As he moves in he casts a _dancing lights_ and sends them ahead.

The party finds a central area, somewhat larger than the hall, and at about this time Londo first realizes he can’t go backwards.  “Watch out!” he cries, “I don’t think we can go out!”

Patyn cries, “It’s a trap!”

Then the darkweaver strikes, aiming a blow downward at Angel- who is straining to move backward with all her might, and therefore not entirely ready for the blow- from the ceiling.  But it misses, and all of our heroes have been on edge waiting for it.  There is a swift burst of motion as Angelfire’s falchion slices up and strikes it with terrible force, knocking it from the ceiling; and as it drops, Thrush and Lester hack at it.  The force of our heroes’ blows destroys the monster.***

“Whew!” breathes Lester.  “That wasn’t so bad.  Let’s search around and see if we can find anything...” 

As Lester speaks, the tower shudders ominously.  Fortunately for our heroes, they almost immediately find a lever in the ceiling.  “There we are!” Angel chuckles, and pulls the lever.”

As the tower shudders again, Horbin says, “Let’s get out of here.”  He casts a _gate_ to Var, and the party goes home to rest. About a minute after they leave, the darkweaver’s tower shakes briefly and then collapses into the Void below.


*This is a common invocation in my games.  The players like to always follow the left-hand path.  “Left to live” is the catchphrase.

**As a contemplative, Lester took the Mysticism domain.

***Angel got a crit on it right away, and under my ‘colorful critical hit’ system (which adds special fx to crits without increasing their damage) rolled a knockdown.  When it fell through the L’s and Thrush’s threatened areas and they got AoO’s on it, it was all over. 


_*Next Time:*_ What will happen when our heroes confront the Mask of the Devourer??


----------



## the Jester

Expect a flurry of updates in the next three days, especially in this story hour- we're building to a big phat climax here.

As of the next update (for purposes of levels), the party lineup is as follows:

Rex (dragon disciple 10/ranger 1/fighter 1/sorcerer 1/monk 5)
Sybele (fighter 8/egoist 10/warrior of chaos 2)
Angelfire (psychic warrior 14/cleric 4/templar of Coila 4)
Ulla (druid 7/shifter 10/warshaper 1)
Jezebel (rogue 5/wizard 7 half-dragon)
Londo (fighter 6/cleric 1/blackguard 10)
Horbin (cleric 21)
Lester (elementalist 14/warrior of chaos 4/contemplative 2/divine oracle 1/paraelementalist 1)
Orbius (wizard 7/divine oracle 10/archmage 2)
Sir Maxwell (paladin 12/knight of the chalice 5)
Thrush (fighter 21)
Payton (paladin 8/hunter of the dead 10)

It's rare that all the pcs are there, but good lord!

Granted, there's one genuine npc, one npc/guest player character, and three cohorts, but- good lord!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

That's one seriously nasty set of PC's. And because the players have grown with them, each one will be tactically aware of how good they are. Wow.

It's nice to see that the melee fighters aren't overshadowed by the casters, which is a complaint you often see on the boards.


----------



## the Jester

*The Phantom Flyer*

_Is it beneficial or baneful for us to take the wand that is held in the icy room with us to the Fortress of Conclusion?_

*Beneficial.*

“All right,” says Angelfire with a small smile.  _Now for the really important one._  She casts another _augury._

_Is it beneficial or baneful to destroy or get rid of the Mask of the Devourer before going to the Fortress of Conclusion?_

*Beneficial.*

Angel sets out to find Patyn.  She’s grinning at the irony.  

***

Jezebel, Sybele’s daughter by the steel dragon Kel, shows up at about noon the day after the fight with the darkweaver.  She and her mother embrace while Thrush looks on and smiles warmly.  Then Jezebel turns to Orbius and gives him a big, lingering, tight, close hug that leaves the divine oracle pleasantly flustered.  Sybele winks at him, and he becomes incredibly uncomfortable.  Our Orbius is a little old-fashioned when it comes to the lady folk.

“It’s good to see you!” Sybele gushes, and she and her daughter spend several hours catching up.  When dinner comes, Sybele asks Jezebel if she wants to adventure with them.  “We’re mixed up in some extremely dangerous stuff, as you can tell,” Sybele says (referring to the tales she told Jezebel over the last few hours).  “So it’s very dangerous.  But I’d love to be able to spend some time with you...”

“Um, okay,” Jezebel responds.  She smiles shyly at her mother.  She would like to get to know her better- after all, Jezebel was kidnapped by Marius as a babe and raised in a fast-flowing timestream, so while less than a year passed for Sybele, Jezebel grew into a teenager.  Now they hardly knew each other. 

_Besides, Mom and her friends might be really helpful if any of the githyanki come after me,_ she added mentally.  _And really, how much more dangerous can whatever they’re doing be than githyanki?_

***

Dinner was served at six that evening, and the Queen graced the party with her presence, so they were relatively well-behaved.  She was clearly growing tired of Lester’s ceaseless obnoxiousness, so our heroes found it just as well when the dishes were cleared away and a _gate_ back to Var could be summoned.

The plan was well-laid, and everyone but Londo knew it.  As soon as they got to Moil, on one of the bridges that connected the towers, the party bushwhacked him.  Thrush, Sybele and Ulla all pinned the struggling, surprised Londo to the bridge.  Hands scrabbled at the Mask.  

”NO YOU DON’T!!” the Mask roars, and a great wave of _fear_ rolls out from it, washing over everyone- but our heroes are strong of will.  None falter; none flee. 

Angelfire grins as she reaches for the Mask, and the yawning chasm of its mouth snaps forward to attempt to _devour_ her.  She leaps aside, and the Mask’s maw snaps shut on air alone.  Angel springs back in and grabs the Mask at its bottom, along the top of Londo’s neck.  Londo is struggling, clearly trying to resist it.

Then Angel tears it free, ripping it from Londo’s face- which is torn and bleeding and seems to have lost a layer or two of skin- and hurling it off the bridge.  The Mask wheels and falls through the blackness.  ”NOOOOOO....!” 

Londo grunts.  “Thanks,” he croaks, wiping his bleeding face.

***

The Tower of Morning, wherein the party has seen the Wand of Days, proves not quite empty; the party encounters a Moilian specter, capable of draining their life energy much like the Moilian zombies they’ve encountered.  Indeed, it also has the same characteristic cold aura.  Jezebel, Ulla, Thrush and Patyn all end up momentarily frozen in ice; but Sybele’s _mass concussion_ blasts them free, and Patyn’s undead slaying abilities finish the specter forever.

In this combat Jezebel learns an important lesson.  “I can’t fight your opponents!” she exclaims.  “I’m going to have to focus on helping you fight your opponents.”

They find the room with the panels displaying different times of day and depress the one that indicates sunrise.  Then they return to the icy chamber that holds the Wand of Days and claim it.

“A good day’s work!” Thrush exclaims cheerily.

“Yep, and I’d say it’s time to rest,” Sybele suggests.  “Let’s go back to the Dreaming Tower and take some more lucidaphen!  Maybe we can learn some more information!”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Patyn says.  

“What do you mean?”

“I think that you’re already displaying signs of addiction.  I don’t think this ‘lucidaphen’ is as harmless as it looks.”

“We can take care of ourselves,” says Thrush.  “We appreciate your concern, but we can handle ourselves.”

He shrugs.  “I’m just pointing out what I’m seeing.”

“We appreciate your concern,” Thrush repeats.

As the others take the drug, Patyn and Rex watch from aside.  “At least we can stand guard,” Rex shrugs.

***

A little scouting reveals that the last set of bars (other than the ones that the hourglass they found previously trips) are gone.  Our heroes flip the aforementioned glass, wait an hour and flip it again.  Then they return to the base of the tower of black ice, where they previously fought a winter-wight, and the bars are down.  In the dark alcove, some sort of leathery-skinned, tentacled beast slithers back and forth.

And it wears a saddle, big enough for a dozen men to ride.

“I guess we know what happens next,” says Thrush.


_*Next Time:*_ At last... the Fortress of Conclusion!


----------



## the Jester

Through the eternal night of the Negative Energy Plane our heroes fly on the back of the weird phantom flyer.  Blackness is above and below, and to all sides.  Their conversations are subdued; the plane around them is oppressive with nothingness.

This is the Void.  Lester shudders.

For an interminable period they wing their way through the darkness.  The phantom flyer is silent, tireless, faceless.  After a time our heroes grow tired, and rest; and many of them again indulge in lucidaphen.  They found a considerable supply of it in the Tower of Dreams, but much of it appears spoiled to some extent.  Nonetheless, our heroes continue to consume it, eagerly searching after prophetic dreams.  To some, nothing comes; to some, strange, hard to understand visions.  Ulla and Londo see death and traps, and shiver.  

The flight continues, hour after hour, until our heroes grow tired again.  “A _commune_ I did said that this will take a long while,” Lester tells them wanly. 

“At least we’re protected from the effects of the plane,” Orbius says with a shudder. 

“What would that do?” asks Horbin.

“Suck the life right out of us.”

“...I see.”

***

Days pass, though they are marked by no sun, no light, no clock.  Our heroes are restless; were it one alone, she might go mad from loneliness.  As it is, tempers fray during the journey, but nobody comes unglued.  The fact that they all know that they can escape via _gate_ or any number of other methods is reassuring and helps them keep their minds intact.

Finally, after a monotonous, seemingly-endless journey that sees everyone sleep at least a half dozen times- most doze a lot as well- a distant speck resolves against the utter blackness everywhere around them.  It is directly ahead of them, and clearly, it is where the phantom flyer is taking them. 

Slowly it grows in their vision, until they are close enough to see it; and by that time- by the time that darkvision or lightsources reach it- it becomes apparent that it is another great green face, like the one in the Tomb of Horrors that the party followed to Moil, the City That Waits.  

Only this time, instead of a void, the mouth houses a door.  There are no visible discouragements against taking it; as the phantom flyer settles on the ledge that extends before the mouth like a great tongue.  At the rim of the ledge, before the doorway, is a lantern shedding a dim emerald light hanging on an iron post.  Beside this, on the door itself, is an inscription:

*Fortress Of Conclusion.*

The party stretches and takes a few moments to work the kinks out of their long-immobile bodies.  Then, almost reluctantly, they turn to the door.

“This is it,” says Lester.

Thrush opens the door.



_*Next Time:*_ Desatysso’s Renewing Reward- the most horrible trap of all!


----------



## the Jester

The first door into the Fortress of Conclusion opens to them uncontested; there is no trap, no deadly spell that triggers to cast them into the Void.  

This may be the only door that they shall find so easy...

Almost immediately the Fortress opens up into a 30’ square room.  The plastered walls are covered with weird scenes and glyphs; the floor and ceiling, too, are covered with bizarre art pieces in a disorganized mess of insectoid dragons, long tentacles, ant-like humans, and other disturbing imagery.  Opposite the entry, another arch leads out.  

“Freaky,” breathes Lester.

“Let’s go,” urges Rex, and the group moves through the room without disturbing anything.  Ahead they can see into another chamber- 

“Oh my god,” Sybele gasps.  She, a hardened adventurer, almost vomits.

A 20’ square chamber opens up from a short hall beyond the painted room.  In the ceiling, in the corner, a metal hook has been affixed to the ceiling.  Dangling from this, head down, is a human, battered and thin, with a look of agony on his face.  He wears a tattered robe.  Worst of all, he is sewn up.  His eyes and mouth are stitched shut; his arms have been sewn to his sides and his legs have been sewn together.

Our heroes start as a low, inarticulate groan of pain issues from the figure, and Orbius gasps, “He’s alive!”

The form jerks, as if suddenly aware of them, and a voice telepathically speaks in their heads.  _Release me from this horrible bondage, I beg you!  Kill me!  I’ve lost all track of time, but it seems an eternity since I, Desatysso, entered this most accursed of places!_

Sybele draws her sword.  “Orbius, Horbin- can you get him down from there?”

A few failed spells ensue.

“I don’t know if you should just kill him,” Orbius says hesitantly.  

“He’s in agony, and has been for who knows how long,” Sybele answers.  She steps up and stabs Desatysso through the heart. 

_Thank you... ahhhhhhh...._

Desatysso’s agonized form relaxes as he dies, and for an instant Sybele feels a fierce burning pride at having done the right thing.  

Then the stitches start to move.

“Wait...” she says, but it’s too late.  

They squirm free of Desatysso’s body, then move like bugs to Sybele, his killer; and in seconds they crawl up her body.  She thrashes and screams.

The stitches are quick and horribly efficient.  Sybele jerks and shrieks as her legs are stitched together and her arms are sewn to her sides; and then her screams stop as the stitches reach her mouth, and then, most horrible of all, her eyes; and with a sudden jerking motion she ends up hanging from the hook, head to the floor, in unbelievable agony.

_*Next Time:*_ Can our heroes rescue Sybele from this horrible trap??  Or will all efforts be futile??


----------



## the Jester

*Desatysso's Renewing Reward*

The first door into the Fortress of Conclusion opens to them uncontested; there is no trap, no deadly spell that triggers to cast them into the Void.  

This may be the only door that they shall find so easy...

Almost immediately the Fortress opens up into a 30’ square room.  The plastered walls are covered with weird scenes and glyphs; the floor and ceiling, too, are covered with bizarre art pieces in a disorganized mess of insectoid dragons, long tentacles, ant-like humans, and other disturbing imagery.  Opposite the entry, another arch leads out.  

“Freaky,” breathes Lester.

“Let’s go,” urges Rex, and the group moves through the room without disturbing anything.  Ahead they can see into another chamber- 

“Oh my god,” Sybele gasps.  She, a hardened adventurer, almost vomits.

A 20’ square chamber opens up from a short hall beyond the painted room.  In the ceiling, in the corner, a metal hook has been affixed to the ceiling.  Dangling from this, head down, is a human, battered and thin, with a look of agony on his face.  He wears a tattered robe.  Worst of all, he is sewn up.  His eyes and mouth are stitched shut; his arms have been sewn to his sides and his legs have been sewn together.

Our heroes start as a low, inarticulate groan of pain issues from the figure, and Orbius gasps, “He’s alive!”

The form jerks, as if suddenly aware of them, and a voice telepathically speaks in their heads.  _Release me from this horrible bondage, I beg you!  Kill me!  I’ve lost all track of time, but it seems an eternity since I, Desatysso, entered this most accursed of places!_

Sybele draws her sword.  “Orbius, Horbin- can you get him down from there?”

A few failed spells ensue.

“I don’t know if you should just kill him,” Orbius says hesitantly.  

“He’s in agony, and has been for who knows how long,” Sybele answers.  She steps up and stabs Desatysso through the heart. 

_Thank you... ahhhhhhh...._

Desatysso’s agonized form relaxes as he dies, and for an instant Sybele feels a fierce burning pride at having done the right thing.  

Then the stitches start to move.

“Wait...” she says, but it’s too late.  

They squirm free of Desatysso’s body, then move like bugs to Sybele, his killer; and in seconds they crawl up her body.  She thrashes and screams.

The stitches are quick and horribly efficient.  Sybele jerks and shrieks as her legs are stitched together and her arms are sewn to her sides; and then her screams stop as the stitches reach her mouth, and then, most horrible of all, her eyes; and with a sudden jerking motion she ends up hanging from the hook, head to the floor, in unbelievable agony.

_*Next Time:*_ Can our heroes rescue Sybele from this horrible trap??  Or will all efforts be futile??


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

That is unbelievably unpleasant! A real _Hellraiser_ moment. Yech.


----------



## Knightfall

Bump?


----------



## the Jester

*Demilich Weirdness*

“SYBELE!” Thrush screams.  “NOO!!!”

“Mom,” Jezebel whispers.

The party stands aghast.  The sight of Sybele, stitched up like a corpse and hung from a hook in the ceiling, makes their collective stomach roil, and when she moans and squirms it’s almost enough to make them heave.  Thrush’s blade is naked in his hands, but there’s no one for him to kill.  He whirls and glares at Horbin and Orbius.  “Get her down, now!!” he cries wildly.

“I’ll do my best,” Orbius says, and proceeds to unleash a tremendous amount of magical power to that effect- but to no avail.  Horbin steps up to try, and Sybele even tries to trigger the _contingency_ that Orbius laid on her* to _plane shift_ out, but the magic that has snared her is beyond the power of anything they can throw at it.

“I’ll use some divinations,” Orbius states grimly.  “Maybe I can determine what will free her.”

Thrush is shaking with rage and grief.  Sybele briefly spasms.  From her sewn shut eyes, tears are falling.  She is in the worst agony she’s ever experienced and can’t even think.

But when Orbius casts _contact other plane_ he is in for a horrible shock. 

_Why has Acererak led us to his Fortress of Conclusion?_ *I seek apotheosis.*

*Eeek!* thinks Orbius, and swallows.

_Will your apotheosis be achieved by sucking my soul alone?_** *Come see.*
_What good-aligned deity has the most to be gained by us destroying you?[/b] *Most of them.*
Where is your phylactery located inside your Fortress of Conclusion? *If you are worthy, you will find it.*
Out of all of us, who do you fear most? *Undead are immune to fear.*
Will a gate allow us to travel to the Fortress of Conclusion from Var? *Yes.*
Why have you trapped Felenga? *To serve my apotheosis.*
Is Felenga trapped within your phylactery? *Yes.*
If we destroy your phylactery, will Felenga be set free? *Depends.*
What must we do to not free Felenga when we destroy your phylactery? *You will fail to destroy my phylactery.*

“Well, crap,” the Eye says grimly, and tells the others of his conversation.

“What about Sybele?” cries Thrush.

“I think,” Horbin sighs, “we have to defeat the demilich before we can free her.”

“Wait a second, let me try a divination,” Lester offers, and casts one.  

How can we get Sybele off the hook?

*Ask Acererak.*

“Right,” the L nods cheerfully.  “Kill the demilich it is.”

“Then let’s go!” Thrush cries.  His knuckles, wrapped around the hilt of his huge sword, are white. 

“He’s everywhere,” the Eye says, his voice a little frightened.  “I cast a locate creature and he’s everywhere here.”  To his perceptions, everything around them if full of demilich.  He concentrates, trying to resolve detail, to see if he can differentiate anything; and he notes two strange concentrated areas, but he can’t quite tell...

“What do you mean?” Ulla asks.

“I’m not entirely sure.”

***

There’s only one hallway leading away from Sybele’s Folly, and Orbius scouts it out with an arcane eye.  “Hmm, get’s incrementally darker... I think there’s another of those dark shadow things down there, like in that one trapped hallway in the Tomb of Horrors!”

“Let’s f**king kill it!” Thrush cries, and gives out a frustrated, angry scream.  

“Right,” Orbius says, “that corridor is probably trapped again, so instead of going to it we’ll lure it out to us.”  And he fires a volley of seeker missiles which streak off down the hallway. 

Then his perceptions, still under the locate creature spell, twist as one of the concentrations he noted earlier vanishes and reappears down the hall.  

Then a meteor swarm explodes around the party.



*Orbius has a custom feat, Bestow Spell, that lets him cast spells with a range of personal as if they were touch spells.  (Metamagic yay!)

**In a lucidaphen-given dream, the pcs saw Acererak achieve some sort of great triumph by absorbing Orbius’ soul.

*Next Time:* Our heroes battle do a lot of battle!_


----------



## Brilbadr

*Notes*

G'day,
I run a homebrew world with Conan rules. Lots of conversion required from 2nd ed.
I was wondering if you could email me those 3.5 "return to the tomb" notes. I have been dropping hints as to the existence of the Bleak Academy for years... 
My website needs updating, it's in it's 3rd format but ...

http://www.users.bigpond.net.au/kos/


Thanks


----------



## Brilbadr

*"*cough"*

Looking back over the thread and at the module, you must have done a fair bit of conversion work. The new versions of some of the monsters are ridiculous...


of course any notes (pretty please) would require an email address...

ashhelen@bigpond.net.au

 ... grateful and unworthy anticipation


----------



## the Jester

No problem, I'll email you notes I have.

It's mostly creature conversions, a few spells and notes... a lot of it got skipped by my pcs (they hardly scratched the surface of the Academy) so I never got to some bits, never got to use some other bits, and did some wholesale changin' to some other bits.


----------



## Knightfall

Another great update, Jester. Sybele is in quite the bind.


----------



## the Jester

*The Amusement of Acererak*

Acererak the demilich is amused.  

They’ve come this far, and there are more than enough of them to finally fuel the Apotheosis- if only they can survive to reach his Phylactery.

It is dangerous, of course; but so it must be.  And they are perhaps the most dangerous ones to come- and they _still_ come, even now that they have seen how horrible Acererak’s curses can be.

Will enough of them survive to the Chamber of the Apotheosis?  He thinks so.

As he senses a _fireball_ blossom around a Dark Shadow, he decides to take a hand in matters.  Better to whittle them down to prevent inadvertently absorbing an unworthy soul.  Only the strongest and most purified must enter the Phylactery.  So he _shifts_ into the Dark Shadow and casts a _meteor swarm_ and is pleased to sense one of them collapsing.  _That unworthy will not soil my Apotheosis,_ he thinks.

Then the Elementalist blasts the form he’s wearing with a _sunburst_ and a _fireball_, and the body is destroyed; but Acererak merely shifts his consciousness elsewhere.  They are worthy, indeed; the one that fell did not die.  Their cleric healed them all quickly.  If they’re smart, they’ve just learned another valuable clue about him.

But of course, they’re _never_ smart enough.  No adventurers have ever been able to truly defeat him- even when they’ve divined his purpose.  Most of the best of them now twinkle in his enormous Phylactery of the Apotheosis.

Acererak looks in on them.  His spirit can look _anywhere_ in the Fortress of Conclusion.

_They’ve figured out that the Dark Shadow’s hallway was a trap, and they’ve found the secret door near Sybele’s Folly.  Acererak renames traps like that as they find new victims.  From Desatysso’s Renewing Reward to Sybele’s Folly.  Yes, he likes that.

They found the secret door, and it leads them into a hallway that almost immediately turns right.  The big fighter, Sybele’s mate, is furious at her fate.  Acererak scoffs at him.  You must be able to stand on your own.  Attachments are weaknesses.

To the right the party passes a large hallway that leads to some sort of vapor-filled chamber.  They halt, listening to a series of groans and cries from within.

“It’s a trap,” Orbius pronounces.  He is wise, thinks Acererak approvingly, and the party apparently concurs, for they keep moving along their path.  Soon the passage opens up into a large hall decorated with artistic splendors of all sorts.  The floors are tiled, the ceiling bears a large number of glowing lights.  Several prominent sections of the wall appear to be painted to resemble demons of various sort.  

“This is obviously a trap too!  We’re gonna touch them and they’re gonna come to life!”  Lester seems a little put out.  They have seen no other exits. 

“Let’s slay them, then,” proclaims Patyn.  

The party arrays themselves for battle, and the L touches one of the portraits, but nothing happens.  “We must have to do something else,” worries Horbin.

A search turns up secret doors behind the panels with the demons on them.  “Well, there you go,” says Rex.  “That’s how we get them to activate.”

“Let’s go,” says Thrush, and he throws open the first secret door.  In a burst of foul-smelling smoke, a terrible monster appears.  Ahh, thinks Acererak, Terristigulth!

Terristigulth is a powerful zovvut sorcerer.  The zovvuts are the spawn of long-dead Orcus, and many of them have greater power than their mere species would warrant because of it.  As much as for his lineage and potential worth as an eventual sacrifice as for his sorcerous prowess- he can cast puncture!- Acererak has employed Terristigulth for many thousands of years, and he has always been satisfied with his service.  It is because of this service that Acererak has given him the girdle of dark might.  With this his prowess is greatly enhanced.  

Terristigulth is a hulking brute, pale-skinned and fat with scabrous feathered wings.  His maw is full of teeth and his claws are as long as a man’s forearm.  He appears with a roar, ready to unleash his furious powers, but the angry Thrush roars back and hacks at him mercilessly, not giving him a moment to respond.  Angelfire rushes in, falchion a blur, and hacks at the demon’s hand.  Rex tears at its wings and back.  A pair of searing lights shoot into it.  And then, without a chance to do more than roar, Terristigulth dies.

Impressive, thinks Acererak.

The party moves to the next door.


*Next Time:*_ Our heroes kick some serious demon ass!


(btw, a quick note to James- I got your msg but my phone is acting up so I can't really talk on it right now... cursed thing!)


----------



## PallidPatience

I love what you've done with Acererak, Jester! Absolutely love it! It's beyond beautiful!

I have a favor to ask. You mentioned something about an Ascendant PrC for those wishing to attain Godhood... If you have it posted here, could you give me a link? If you simply have it written up on your computer, would you be so kind as to email me a copy at fthfulwrshipr1 at aol dot com? Thank you very much in advance. I love the work I've seen so far, both in the story hour and in your RG thread, and cannot get enough.


----------



## the Jester

*Kicking Demon Ass*

The second door brings a marilith to attack them, but it falls before our heroes in an instant.  Driven by their anger and grief over Sybele, the party moves through the demon like a hammer.

“We should just go straight to the demilich,” Thrush urges.  “Right to the heart of things!  And we’ll _make_ him release Sybele!”

“If we leave a bunch of demons behind us,” Rex warns, “Acererak will just bring them to fight us when we attack him.  We should clean up this room on the way.”

Patyn nods.  “But we’ll find a way to get her free, Thrush.”  He claps the man on the shoulder. 

Ulla giggles as she shifts form into that of a marilith.  She scoops up the destroyed demon’s six blades and practices with them for a few moments.  The power of the form is exhilarating- _six arms!_  She grins to herself, ready for whatever challenge comes next.

The next door summons a horrid demon with the aspect of a boar mixed with a horrible, ape-like body.  Tiny soiled wings sprout from its back like feathered warts.  It’s huge, which simply allows more of our heroes to assail it at once.  Ulla slithers forward, blades crashing into the monster, and Rex and Patyn leap to the fore as well.  The nalfeshnee (whose name is Felgunnt) roars, enters a rage, and tears into Patyn, slashing and biting at the hunter of the dead viciously.

As the battle rages, Angelfire wonders, _What’s behind these secret doors, anyway?_  She glances at the party- they seem to have things well in hand, here- and then _dimension doors_ 5’ past the secret door painted with Felgunnt’s fearsome visage.

Just a 10’x20’ empty room.  Directly behind her, obvious from this side, is a door.  She opens it and finds herself directly behind the demon.  

_Perfect,_ she thinks, _hasting_ herself from her _boots of speed._  Then she strikes forward, _smiting_ the demon, and incandescent Abyssal blood fountains all around it.  Felgunnt, countless millennia old, is extinguished.

The final door is painted with the image of a powerful-looking vrock.  The vulture-demon is depicted holding several tiny human forms in its fists.  As soon as they touch the panel, Apok the demon appears, and immediately battle breaks out.  Thrush dashes forward, hacking at the monster’s leg, but his blade turns from its tough skin.  Londo springs forward and smashes its foot with his flail, crushing several toes so completely that they separate from Apok’s body completely. 

Apok looms half again as large as a normal vrock.  He gives out a shrill scream as his toes are crushed and turns his angry red eyes on Londo.  As the demon draws back to strike, a huge cloud of spores puffs out from his body, and all of our heroes gag and cough.  Then the demon’s great claw slices down, ripping across Londo’s chest.  Gouts of blood splatter as his other claw tears across the blackguard’s shoulder and right arm.  “Aargh!” cries Londo, and then the huge beak slams into him as well.  He staggers and collapses to the ground, crawling while he groans and leaks his vitae on the tiled floor.  Dizzily, he pulls out a wand and starts curing himself.  

“Leave him alone!” Angelfire cries sternly, and her falchion flashes at unbelievable speed, hacking at the demon.  Apok roars a mighty challenge and returns Angelfire’s full attack in kind.  Blood sprays everywhere in copious amounts from both of them.*  Patyn leaps in and aims a high blow at the vrock’s face, while Thrush attacks it like a lumberjack working on a large tree.  Finally, Angel deals the final blow, and Apok falls, crashing down onto the ground and shattering many tiles. 

Breathing hard, our heroes pause to heal.  As Horbin begins casting healing magic, however, he discovers that it is difficult to cast at all- and its effects are dampened by the negative energy here.**  “We’ll have to be careful,” he says worriedly.

“Let’s return to Var to heal,” suggests Orbius.

“No!” Thrush barks.  “We aren’t leaving Sybele behind!”

“We don’t have a choice,” Patyn says tiredly.  “If we wish to rescue here, we must face the demilich with our strength, not weakness.”  He shakes his head.  “We will rescue her, Thrush.  But not if we’re killed trying.”

“Uh-oh,” says Lester.  He’s frowning as he regards his trump of Var.  “Here, you try,” he mutters, passing the card to Orbius.  Rex and Ulla exchange glances.

It proves to be difficult but possible to establish trump contact from the Fortress to Var.  “This won’t work for a quick escape from here,” Orbius sighs.  “We should keep that in mind.”  The group steps through a rainbow and returns to the palace in Var.  In a few moments Horbin’s healing powers have mostly repaired everyone.

“Well, I’ve got some stuff to take care of,” Angelfire says.  “I’ll see you guys later at the Three Rubies.***”  She then heads into town to seek legal advice.

After seeing Sybele fall, Angelfire has decided that it’s time to file a will.

Orbius and Lester _greater teleport_ to see Anvar and the forces of the Temple of Elemental Good that he’s arrayed.  It turns out that they’ve been having some difficulties with giants and orcs.  The L offers to return them to Var, but his followers are proud, and Anvar is perhaps prouder still.  “We’ll take care of it,” he insists.  “We’re fine.”

That afternoon, when Lester and Orbius _teleport_ back to the castle, they are confronted with an angry accountant tendering Lester a bill for damages he’s inflicted on the castle at various points.  “Sure, sure,” Lester mumbles, glumly handing over a bag of coins.  Mere minutes later, he stumbles into the Queen, who reproaches him for certain instances of past carelessness that have led to extensive repair bills or inconveniences.  

It seems that with Malford out of town, Lester is falling out of favor. 

Fortunately for him, however, that evening at the Three Rubies he meets a very interesting lady.


_*Next Time:*_ Lester meets a lady!  More divinations!  And make ready for... Conclusions!


*Each of them dealt well over 100 hit points of damage to the other!

**In game terms, all healing was minimized in the Fortress of Conclusion.

***An upscale tavern our heroes like to frequent.


----------



## the Jester

PallidPatience, I'm searching for that old thread but the boards are sluggish, I may not be able to find it just yet and will be out of town til next week.  If you sort the threads in the House Rules forum by thread starter and look for it, I believe it was titled 'How to Become a God' or something like that.  (I started the thread.)

Edit: aha, finally!  The Ascendant.


----------



## PallidPatience

w00t! Thanks, Jester, for the great update (with massive demon-slaying action!) and for the link to the Ascendant. If you don't mind, I'm going to copy-paste it to a text file on my own computer.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

I love the way your PC's go through high level demons like a chainsaw goes through a melon. Marvellous stuff.


----------



## the Jester

*Lester Meets a Lady*

_*Twenty-two years ago...*

Lester, Sunsi, Thimbleton, Hobbes, Stone and Rinardo were leading a group of Malford’s men across the ruins of the town of Morval.  It wasn’t the first ruin they’ve been to, but it will be the last before they reach the broken remains of the city of Var, where Fuligin drove them forth in abject defeat a century ago.

Now they were at last ready to face him, and they needed to reclaim territory as they went.  Rinardo had not yet gained the Mantle of Gaea, and the devastation was obvious everywhere.  Burnt trees; a few scraggly plants here and there; bones on the road, unburied bodies left to dry and become buried by the blowing grit of a continent raped and scourged bare of life.

_Man, woman or child- bird or beast or plant- if it’s not evil, kill it._  That was the order that Fuligin had given to the hordes of evil outsiders he had somehow conjured.  And they had obeyed.  The destruction was complete; even the emperor of Wotan could not stand before the fiendish armies.  Those Dorhausians that survived did so by fleeing- or by becoming evil themselves.  An entire continent had to be abandoned before the savagery of Fuligin and his forces.

But now heroes had returned- the same heroes Fuligin had defeated to take Dorhaus in the first place.  A hundred years after they were supposedly slain by the forces of evil, they had come back to destroy their enemy at last.  He would be weakened by the Master of Darkhold’s actions, they knew- or hoped. 

But for the moment, they were clearing ruins on the way to Var. 

Several soldiers led the way into the ruined town center, and the group moved to explore the area.  There were no signs of fiends or undead; but a sudden scream from within one of the buildings caught the attention of the heroes and their henchmen.

Sunsi of the Black Turtle Clan moved faster than anyone else, springing through the open doorway into the ruined building’s remnants, but Hobbes was fast behind him.  The tabaxi’s blood sword was naked in his hand already.  Lester’s bat wings flapped with remarkable strength, carrying him after them.  

Before the heroes was a nightmare of giant spiders and a terrified man-at-arms, caught in a web and already swelling from a toxic bite.  He screamed again as the spiders skittered close to him.

Sunsi leapt forward, his bare foot smashing into the lead spider with amazing force.  The creature’s head collapsed.  Hobbes charged forward yowling, swinging his scarlet blade, and the battle was on.  

Lester moved up to the injured man, swiftly uncorking a _potion of sweet water._  “Here,” he said, pouring it on the man’s wounds.  “This should save you!”

By the time the L could turn his attention to the battle, it was over.  Shrugging, he sliced the trapped man-at-arms free of the web.  The main babbled his gratitude, and Lester just nodded and smiled dismissively.  The man left, and Lester forgot his name within a week.

*Now.*_

With a sigh, the L tips back his stein of beer.  Good gnomish beer; the Three Rubies always has a nice brew available.  Smacking his lips, Lester leans back in his chair and contemplates the lack of castle breakfast that he’s facing.

Lester is one of those people who seems  to go through periods of extreme fortune.  It’s never a little good or a little bad; it’s always _a lot_ good or bad.  Fortunately for him, he’s in a good period.  That night his luck carries him a good long way.

“Hi,” she says when she walks up to him.  “You’re Lester, right?”

The L knows that his afro, his bat wings, his shades reveal his identity to anyone who has lived in Var for more than a week or two, so there’s no point denying it.  Besides, she’s beautiful- probably no older than twenty, human, with skin like dusk and dark wavy hair.  

“That’s me,” he replies cautiously.  “Why?  Whatever it is, I didn’t do it!”

She gives out a low chuckle.  “Yes you did.  Years ago you saved my father’s life.  I’ve always heard so much about you- I’ve wanted to meet you forever.”

“Oh!  Well, I guess I did do _that..._”

Reina is her name, and it soon develops that not only does she practically worship Lester, she’s _rich._  Truly, the dice have fallen in his favor tonight.  When she offers to show him and his friends her house, they cannot refuse; and the mansion, as it turns out to be, is quite impressive.  Not as nice as Malford’s palace, but nearly so.  Ulla is especially pleased by the extensive orchards and gardens.

That night, Lester is easily seduced.  Why fight such a gorgeous opportunity?  Although, truth to tell, he doesn’t even remember the incident she’s speaking of.  But hey, he’s saved a lot of people in his time- he can’t be expected to remember every one!

While Lester is dallying with Reina, Orbius’ ever-seeking eye is wide open.  The divine oracle casts _commune_.

_Am I speaking with Boccob?_ *Yes.*
_I open my mind for you to take all knowledge I have accumulated.
Will an epic show of strength free Sybele?_ *Not strength.*
_Do I possess the right magic to free her?_ *No.*
_Does Horbin?_ *No.*
_Is it possible that someone extremely dexterous could free her?_ *No.*
_Can she will herself off the hook?_ *No.*
_Would a _stone shape_ around the hook work?_ *No.*
_So _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_ won’t work?_ *No.*

The Eye curses inwardly.

_Not even if I bestow an _antimagic shell_ on Sybele?_ *Unlikely.*
_Can Acererak hold Felenga more than a week without any intervention on our part?_ *Uncertain.*
_Given sufficient time is Felenga likely to escape?_ *Yes.*
_Is Felenga’s phylactery within 100’ of Acererak’s phylactery?_ *Yes.*
_Is Acererak trying to lure us towards his phylactery?_ *If you are worthy.*
_Am I speaking with Acererak?_ *No.*
_Just making sure.  Do we possess the proper magic to eliminate the fog we saw in the Fortress of Conclusion?_ *Yes.*
_Will a _greater dispel magic_ work?_ *Possibly.*
_Do I possess magic of a lower valence than _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_ that will get rid of it?_ *Perhaps.*
_Will Malford easily triumph over the giants he’s facing?_ *Yes.*
_Are the giants likely to find Lester’s temple’s encampment in the next five days?_ *No.*

For a few long moments the Eye frowns and mulls what he’s learned.  Then he casts a _vision,_ and it hits him like a blow.

_He can see it, a huge gemstone suspended over a pit to the Void; gleaming from trapped soul-stuff within; in some sort of tripod-like device.  It blazes before him, and Orbius memorizes every contour of the chamber.

That’s what I want,_ he thinks grimly.

_In the morning, I’ll do a few more divinations.  But then it’s time to _end_ this thing._


_*Next Time:*_ A few more divinations, and then... it’s on!!


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Nice Post, Jester!*

I am happy to say that this last post contains 3 of my characters from over the years in Cydra.  I played Sunsi mostly during 2e Skills and Powers days, and mostly during Lester's incarceration.   (I take the 5th of that . . .    )

While Lester easily has the most HPs of anyone and the most insane damage oriented spells, I think that our party benefits more from Orbius' meta-magic hoopla (mass and bestow spell) and Arcane Reach.  Put them together and you have some truly epic (small "e") spellcasting.  My current favorites are:

Bestow True Strike - 3rd Lvl
Mass *Far Strike* - 6th Lvl
Mass *Elasticity* - 8th Lvl  
Mass Stoneskins - 8th Lvl

and 

Mass-Bestowed Mirror Image:  Lvl 8
19 miror images bestowed on you and those you choose

Jester, you should post those Custom Cydra spells and feats soon . . .


----------



## PallidPatience

> Is Felenga’s phylactery within 100’ of Felenga’s phylactery? Yes.




I certainly should hope so, Jester... That's probably a terrible typo, or Orbius was asking the wrong questions.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

I am looking forward to this final battle with some anticipation! Should be great - I can imagine it's not the sort of thing you hold back from...


----------



## the Jester

PallidPatience said:
			
		

> I certainly should hope so, Jester... That's probably a terrible typo, or Orbius was asking the wrong questions.




Oops, typo!   Will go fix...


----------



## the Jester

*Prologue to Conclusion*

The sun throws the morning’s first rays of light across the ramparts of Malford’s castle.  They scintillate as they catch the stained glass of the Cathedral of Dexter and enter the main fane of the building.  The day’s light grows, orange and gold, as the sun rises higher and its beams reach the buildings surrounding the New Quarter of Var.  The New Quarter is mostly undeveloped; it’s only recently been cleared of the debris and ruins of the older iteration of the town.  The new town is much smaller, in terms of population, than the old one was; it doesn’t yet fill out the ruins.  So the New Quarter was cleared, to allow room for new streets to be laid, new structures to be erected, new people to move in.

Not that Dorhaus is swimming with immigrants, yet, but Queen Moira has an idea on that subject.

Adjacent to the New Quarter, on the eastern side, is Drelvin’s Avenue.  Named after the famous archer (who is snoring happily in his bed in the castle), the road is populated by a combination of ruined building, reclaimed buildings and newly-built buildings.  One of the more impressive old estates that has been reclaimed and rebuilt is where most of the party sleeps.  This is Reina’s home- claimed by her father two decades ago, about a year after he almost died and was saved by Lester.

The L is reflecting on the way the little things come back to help you out sometimes as he opens his bleary eyes.  He smiles fondly at the young woman sleeping next to him.

“Sorry, honey,” he murmurs, kissing her gently, “but adventure awaits.”  He rolls out of bed and pulls on a robe.

It’s time they finished some liches off once and for all.

But not everyone wants to get to it as quickly as Lester.  Orbius insists on performing a _contact other plane_ first, and Angelfire and Londo take their sweet time getting out of bed.  They are enjoying every moment of what they all know might be their last time together.

Ulla moves through the morning shifting from form to form.  She is inconstant, pacing, nervous.  She’s not so sure that attacking the demilich in its lair is a good idea, but she also fears that it will come after them if they don’t destroy it.  As usual when dealing with terrifying undead beings of epic power, there are no easy answers.

Orbius sits alone in his room, sealed away from all distractions, as he sends his mind to a distant plane, seeking contact with a fantastically powerful mind.   He feels something terrifyingly powerful snatch at him, and he’s caught up in a torrent of divine power as he makes contact.

_Will a _shatter_ spell cast upon Acererak harm him?_ *Yes.*
_Which of Patyn’s abilities will be most effective against Acererak?_ *Positive energy burst.*
_What is the most effective attack against Acererak’s phylactery that we possess?_ *Sonic.*
_What effect will the _wand of days_ have in our battle with Acererak?_ *Possible victory.*

Orbius’ heart almost stops.  

_Is Acererak likely to cast defenses on the phylactery to ward it against sonic attacks and/or the _wand of days? *Cannot.*
_Is it within my means to take us to Acererak’s phylactery?_ *Not from Var.*
_From within the Fortress of Conclusion?_ *From the right room.*
_Show me an image of the room from which this is possible._ *Don’t know.*
_Is it possible to _teleport_ into that room?_ *Probably.*
_What direction and distance is this room from the entrance?_ *Don’t know.*

Immediately, the Eye relates what he’s learned.  “The _wand of days_ seems to be the key,” he finishes.  “If we can plan this right, we can take Acererak’s phylactery out and then nail Felenga!”

“Good job, Orbius,” Lester says.  “Now we need to find out where the room we can teleport to the phylactery from is!”  And he impulsively casts _commune._

_Has anyone claimed the Mask of the Devourer?_ *No.*
_When we fight Acererak, is he likely to have allies?_ *Unknown.*
_Will a _Mordenkainen’s disjunction_ cast at the skull prevent him from sucking souls?_ *As a counterspell.*
_If we counterspell his scream, will it be reflected upon another creature in the room?_ *No.*
_Does Acererak know we have the _wand of days? *Unlikely.*
_Will a _sunray_ help destroy the phylactery?_ *Yes.*
_If Angel strikes a mighty blow upon the skull, will she be able to physically harm it?_ *Yes.*
_If Ulla transforms into an undead, can she avoid the soul sucking?_ *Yes.*
_If Orbius _polymorphs_ into an undead, will he avoid it?_ *Yes.**
_Will antimagic help avoid it?_ *Yes.*
_If we’re undead, will Acererak be able to control us?_ *Yes.*
_Is the way to the room we need to reach in order to teleport to the phylactery through one of the doors in the room with the demons?_ *No.*
_Is the way through the chamber with the moaning mists that we skipped past?_ *No.*
_Are there any other beings in the room that we can _teleport_ from?_ *No.*
_Are there any secret doors down the hallway where we fought the dark shadow?_ *No.*
_Have we overlooked any secret doors?_ *Yes.*
_Is this secret door in the room with the mists?_ *No.*
_Is it down the hall from where Sybele’s hung up?_ *Yes.*
_Will the room we can _teleport_ from have strange paintings on the wall?_ *Some.*
_Will our various knowledge skills help us determine the room?_ *No.*

Upon coming out of his trance, Lester immediately relates what he’s learned.  “Art, huh?” asks Thrush.  “Sounds like the room we killed those demons in.”

“We can certainly try it,” agrees Orbius.  “But we need a plan.  And I think I’ve got one.”  He pauses grimly.

“First of all, whoever’s using the _wand of days_ is bound to be Acererak’s first target.  If it brings us possible victory, he’s bound to recognize it and move to stop it right away.  We need to make sure that individual is buffed up to the maximum extent we can manage, with _death ward_ and whatever else we can come up with.  Patyn, don’t mess around with anything else- use that positive energy burst!  It never misses and Acererak can’t resist it.”

“And it probably won’t work too well in that inkwell of negative energy,” the hunter of the dead says, voice rife with disgust.

“Nonetheless, it’s the best we’ve got.  Maybe Londo can help distract Acererak or something, but that will be all it is- a distraction.  Everyone else focus on the phylactery.  Lester, use _sunray_-type spells as much as you can, I think it’s vulnerable to sunlight.  And sonics, people.  I’ll be making a trump contact with Var so that we can get the hell out of there in a hurry, and I’ll be _wand of days_ backup- when the first one goes down, I’ll pick it up and take over.”

“Just who do you intend to use the wand at first?” Angel asks suspiciously.

Orbius sighs.

***

“Hey, how’s it going, buddy?”  The Eye grins at his _simulacrum._

“Pretty well,” nods the other Orbius.  

“Listen, I need your help.  You don’t have to...”

“Of course.”  The _simulacrum_ stands up.  “What do you need?”

Orbius swallows sadly.   


_*Next Time:*_ CONCLUSION!



*Of course, you can’t _polymorph_ into an undead anyhow, unless you already are one.


----------



## the Jester

*CONCLUSION (pt. 1)*

Sybele moans around the stitches keeping her lips together.  She jerks once, in horrible agony, but is so exhausted that that is all she can muster.

If only her eyes were not sewn shut, she would see the sudden slash of silver-blue light that appears in the air next to her, then tears open to form a _gate._  On the other side, she would see the warm sun over the atrium in Lester’s new girlfriend’s house.  As it is, she scents a fresh breeze and she hears Thrush’s choked voice.

“Sybele,” he groans, his heart as heavy as lead.

“Come on,” Orbius says softly, laying a hand on the fighter’s arm.  “We can’t do anything for her here.  Our best hope is to destroy the demilich.”

Thrush knows the Eye is right, but he lingers a moment longer, regarding his woman with aching heart.  He hasn’t felt so helpless since his former party and he were trapped inside Bile Mountain, with no escape.

_She saved me, I’ll save her,_ he tells himself firmly, and hurries after the others.

Angelfire glances at Patyn bemusedly.  This may be their last fight on the same side; she wonders whether, when all is said and done, Patyn will stay with them or leave, or whether he will demand she face him in a challenge.  Well, if it comes to that, so be it- but she’ll kill him without any remorse.

_After_ they do for Felenga and Acererak.  Until then, Patyn’s vital.  _I don’t want to face them again after this,_ Angel thinks.  _This will be the _last time.

Quickly, the group makes their way back down to the chamber from which the demons emerged.  “There’s a lot of art here,” Orbius muses.  “This might be the place we can teleport to the phylactery from.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Ulla asks.

“Let’s find out.”  Orbius smiles and casts a _divination._

Moments later, they all gather round as Orbius employs the _helm of knowing movement_ he obtained long ago from Felenga in order to _greater teleport._*  He’s seen the place in a _vision,_ and though it might not be quite accurate in terms of the environment and features, it’s enough.

Suddenly they’re there.

The room is a 50’ hemisphere.  Dominating it, glowing with a scarlet radiance like blood, is a huge crystal, multifaceted and gleaming with sullen incarnadine radiance.  The facets pulse and shimmer, but clearly within almost all of the facets are features- faces, contorted in silent agony.  

All the souls that Acererak has sucked into it.  All those that have gotten this far before our heroes.

A great tripod of black iron holds the chamber above the floor.  Below it- no floor at all, but merely a hole in the floor that opens to absolute blackness.  The Void.  The Negative Energy Plane.  

There is no sign of the demilich.

“That’s it!” cries Orbius.  “That’s the phylactery!”  The party moves into action instantly.

The _simulacrum_ of Orbius points the _wand of days_ at the great red crystal and cries out, “Kindle!”  There is a tremendous flare of light, like the rising sun, and the crystal is bathed in a glare of solar energy unlike anything our heroes have seen before.  Lester fires a _sunray_ at it, and the two blasts of energy leave the crystal marred and cracked.  Scorch marks trail over it.

Thrush attacks, screaming in his rage and frustration.  He hacks mightily at the phylactery, gritting his teeth as slivers of crystal shatter off and explode about him.  He sees Angelfire casting a spell from the corner of his eye, but whatever she’s doing doesn’t seem to work (and she frowns).

The real Orbius slinks back into the shadows and pulls out a trump.  Almost immediately, however, he realizes that something’s wrong.  The contact won’t come; it’s like trying to see clearly through a cloudy glass window four feet thick.  _I can’t make contact.  If I have time, I might be able to do so..._ 

And then, as our heroes begin their assault, a terrible mocking laughter comes echoing down from above, and they realize that there is some sort of ledge above them.  And floating down comes a terrible sight: the skull of the demilich.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!”

Our heroes pause in their assault as the dreadful knowledge that they face Acererak himself comes crashing in on them.  Acererak, the ancient demilich so terrible that even the hunters of the dead denied his existence.  Acererak, builder of the Tomb of Horrors and center of the Black Academy.  Acererak, the Devourer.

“Through hazard and danger you have made your way here,” crows the bejeweled skull, “surpassing challenges both martial and cerebral!  The journey was a hard one, but with each test you bested, your souls were further purified, until you stand before me now with empowered, shining souls visible to those with the eyes to see.”  The rasping voice of the demilich pauses for an instant, then goes on gloatingly.  “I have use for such souls.  _You_ will provide the final catalyst for my union with the Negative Energy Plane itself!  *Let the Apotheosis begin!!!*”


_*Next Time:*_ I think I’ll take a few months off from story hour writing.  Seeya around, guys.


*This is a lot like the 1e/2e version of a _helm of teleportation-_ instead of letting you _teleport_ a couple times a day, it lets you cast all your prepared teleportation spells an extra three times.


----------



## omrob

the Jester said:
			
		

> "Through hazard and danger you have made your way here,” crows the bejeweled skull, “surpassing challenges both martial and cerebral!  The journey was a hard one, but with each test you bested, your souls were further purified, until you stand before me now with empowered, shining souls visible to those with the eyes to see.”  The rasping voice of the demilich pauses for an instant, then goes on gloatingly.  “I have use for such souls.  _You_ will provide the final catalyst for my union with the Negative Energy Plane itself!  *Let the Apotheosis begin!!!*”




Y'all knew it had to talk teh smack. Personally, I was expecting a lot more  

BTW I believe this climactic session was attended by only 2 of up to 7-8 players. Albeit the most powerful ones.


----------



## Knightfall

the Jester said:
			
		

> _*Next Time:*_ I think I’ll take a few months off from story hour writing.  Seeya around, guys.




*DON'T YOU DARE!!!*


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> *DON'T YOU DARE!!!*



I'm with him. 

Although I can imagine that The Jester is just funning with us. Remember, mate, I think I know people who know where you live!

(not a great threat, but it's all I can come up with right now!)


----------



## the Jester

*CONCLUSION (pt. 2)*

The Phylactery of the Apotheosis, dominating the chamber above the hole to the Negative Energy Plane, gives off a sullen blood-red radiance that casts everyone in the chamber into ghastly relief as the demilich, gems in its teeth and eyes gleaming, descends towards the party.

Then a flash of brilliant pure energy emanates from Patyn with a high crackling sound!  Smoke rises from the many small cracks on the great crimson gemstone phylactery.  The demilich himself gives off a cry of displeasure.  Patyn is frowning fiercely and sweating- it’s difficult to channel his burst here, but by focusing all his concentration it seem he can make it work!  

Acererak ignores the hunter of the dead.  The yellowed skull pivots in the air to regard Angelfire, who is watching it grimly, and then the gem in the right eye socket gives off a flash of dizzying brightness.  Angel cries out and reels, shaking as her very soul starts tearing loose from her body!  Visibly, her soul stretches away from her body, desperately trying to retain its connection- and then, with an almost audible snap, Angel staggers back as Acererak’s attempt to trap her soul fails.  Staggering, Angel hesitates.  Her hair has gone white, her skin pale as a cave fish.  She’s shaking and cold to her very bones, but _she’s alive._

Dragging her falchion from its scabbard, she wobbles towards Acererak.

Thrush springs forward at the demilich as well.  To ignore the demilich now would be to allow it to kill them all.  He’s filled with a cold determination as he approaches it; and he cries, *”FREE MY WOMAN, DEMILICH!!!”*  His sword cracks down, actually inflicting some damage on Acererak!

The L’s great bat wings carry him forward as he casts another _sunray_ at the phylactery.  He sees one Orbius firing another brilliant blast from the _wand of days_ and another still desperately focusing on the trump, and there’s no shimmer around him; no contact.  _We’re stuck here,_ Lester realizes.  He grins fiercely.  _This guy’s tough, but I’ve faced bad guys as tough as him before!  Fuligin, Mezzoloch, E-Krektor, Master Control- this guy is gonna be just another name on my list soon!_

The demilich shrieks with anger as the _wand of days_ fires another pulse of shattering sunlight into his Phylactery of the Apotheosis.  Gnashing his gem-adorned teeth, the demilich fires off a quickened _cone of cold_ that shatters the _simulacrum_-Orbius into a thousand bits of snow as well as catching and damaging Lester.  Then one of Acererak’s teeth flashes with light, and Lester screams as the most horrible pain he’s ever experienced grips him and tears him.  “AH!!! GNAARGH!!!” he shrieks as his spirit is drawn towards the glinting tooth.  “NOOOOO!!!!”  Setting his feet, the L struggles with all the considerable might of the elements within his body lending him weight, and slowly he manages to fend off the soul-ripping power of Acererak.  Collapsing onto one knee, wheezing, his afro now sports a white streak down the middle.  Shaking, feeling frozen, he tries to stagger back up to his feet, but falters.  His clothing looks as though it has been bleached for a thousand years.  His swarthy skin, normally dark, looks pasty and wasted.  He barely notices as Patyn triggers another sizzling energy burst.

Orbius curses to himself as his _simulacrum_ falls.  _The trump contact- too hard, can’t make it work!  And there’s no more time, now...

Time stop_ it is, then.  As everything slows down he _teleports_ to a good position, then uses a _limited wish_ to bring the _wand of days_ to him.  Drawing a deep breath, he readies himself, and as things speed up around him again, he firings another blast of effulgent sunlight at the phylactery.  The brilliant golden-white light sends shards of the scarlet gem cascading through the chamber and tumbling down through the gap into the Void.

Orbius knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he’s next.  Holding the _wand of days_ makes him the demilich’s primary target.  He prays that he can withstand the soul trapping of Acererak’s gems, but in his heart he knows how unlikely it is.

Thrush and Angelfire are flanking the demilich in the air, and Thrush hits it again, making Acererak’s form wobble in the air.  Angel’s falchion hisses through the air but deflects away from the skull as if pushed away.  Acererak’s left eye gem begins gleaming as it stares implacably at Orbius.  

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.  

The only sound, for a moment, is the panting of our heroes’ breath.

Then they’re cheering, congratulating each other, hugging, high-fiving!  Could it be that they’ve destroyed Acererak for good?  Is it possible??

“Wait a second,” the blind Orbius says grimly.  “Let’s make sure.”  And he casts a mighty divination.

And then grins.  And then whoops!

_”We did it!”_ he cries.

“But it’s not over,” interrupts Thrush balefully.  “We still need to free Sybele.”

“Hey, what about Felenga?” the L puts in suddenly.


_*Next Time:*_ Strange pilgrims!  And Felenga!  It’s not over yet!!!


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Short but nasty, as such fights tend to be!

Any in-game information for us? What was the DC for the soul trapping effect, for example, and just how much damage did Thrush have to do to hurt him?


----------



## the Jester

Tallarn said:
			
		

> Short but nasty, as such fights tend to be!
> 
> Any in-game information for us? What was the DC for the soul trapping effect, for example, and just how much damage did Thrush have to do to hurt him?




Soul trapping DC was 36. 

The demilich had DR 20 which I don't think anyone was bypassing, though Angelfire's Falchion could knock off the first 5 points of it (being made of coal steel, which has certain properties similar to adamantine- it's a partial bypass, sort of).

The phylactery itself was huge and resistant to harm; it had an AC of 20, hardness 12, hp 350 and SR 50.  Each leg of the tripod on which it rested has AC 9, hardness 10, hp 144.

Touching the phylactery- which nobody did- required a Fort save, DC 48, to avoid soul trapping.  Once Acererak had soul trapped the three most worthy victims he would have moved to directly above the phylactery and initiated the Apotheosis.  Once this had begun, only the destruction of the phylactery would have had any effect on the Apotheosis.  The pcs would have had only ten rounds to destroy it or the Apotheosis would have been completed and Acererak would have joined with the negative energy plane, thereby enabling him to shift into any undead anywhere, at will, and rendering him truly invincible (unless _all_ undead could somehow be destroyed).


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

OK, now I'm even more impressed with the victory!


----------



## the Jester

*CONCLUSION (pt. 3)*

Our heroes stand amongst the ruins of Acererak’s plans.  The shards of the Phylactery of the Apotheosis glimmer a fading red all around them.  The chamber is now dominated by the gaping hole in the floor opening into the Void.

“I wonder if he had any treasure?” Rex says aloud.

“Hmm, good idea,” says Angelfire.  “We should search.”

The group looks around.  There is another door out of the chamber, and above them they can see a ledge of some sort- no doubt it was there that the demilich had floated down at them from.  Rex spreads his wings and flies up, followed by Ulla (who shifts into the form of an eagle for the ascent before fluidly changing into an air elemental).  Indeed, the ledge has some treasure.  Quite a bit of treasure.  “Holy crap!” exclaims Rex.

The group hauls it down to the floor and counts it up.  It’s an impressive haul, resplendent with gems and magic.  Grinning, the group puts it away for later division.

That’s when the door opens and a silent troupe of figures enters.  The leader is one of those mysterious blue-skinned beings called _ethros_, and he is followed by a quartet of strange ram-headed humanoid beings.  Without a word, moving with a strange air of reverence, they begin spreading slowly into the chamber.  There is an almost ritualistic quality to their motions; each of the ram-headed beings carries some sort of small, diaphanous net-like thing.

“Hey!” exclaims Ulla.

Thrush’s blade is naked in his hand.  Angel’s falchion scrapes free of its scabbard.  “Who are you?” cries Sir Maxwell, pulling his silver hammer out.

The ethros slowly turns to face the party.  His deep azure eyes seem to drink them in for a moment.  His expression never changes from one of great solemnity.  “We are but simple pilgrims,” he declares softly.

“Pilgrims!” exclaim Patyn and Sir Maxwell together.  Then, Maxwell: “Pilgrims of _who?_”

The ethros shakes his head.  “We serve no god or power.  We merely study.”

“Study what?” Rex demands suspiciously.  Thrush glowers at the ethros balefully.

“Death,” the blue-skinned figure intones.

Sir Maxwell checks for evil, and Patyn for undeath.  Maxwell frowns- the ram-headed things are _very_ evil- but Patyn ascertains that none of the strange pilgrims are undead.

“What is it that you want?” asks Angel.  “Did you serve the demilich?”

“We wish to study,” repeats the ethros.  “As I said, we serve no one.  Something happened here moments ago that caused _ripples_ throughout the entire Negative Energy Plane.  It was strong with death.  We wish to study the phenomenon.”  Holding Angelfire’s eyes for a moment, the ethros’ face remains in its same aspect of solemnity.

“What’s your name?” 

“Remilino,” the ethros answers after a flicker of hesitation.

Angelfire nods.  “Are you a wizard or sorcerer?  Or a cleric?  We have a friend in trouble...”

“Sybele!” groans Thrush.

“If you can help her,” Angel continues, “we won’t interfere with your studies here as long as you don’t interfere with us.”

“I am unwilling to go on some adventure for you,” the ethros answers, distaste evident in his voice.

“She’s here, in the demilich’s fortress,” Sir Maxwell says.  “She’s caught in a magical trap.”  And the group relates the tale of Sybele’s Folly.  After a moment’s contemplation, the ethros offers to try, but warns that his best may not be enough.

“Try anything you can,” Thrush demands harshly.  He grinds his teeth.

“Let’s get moving,” Rex says.  “We still have to deal with Felenga- and find and destroy his phylactery.”  He pauses, then adds grimly, “I hope he’s not active in a new body...”  The group forms up and begins to ready to go out the door and explore.  

Angel has a shard of the demilich’s skull.  She quickly casts _know age_ on it.

Acererak was 46,973 years old.  Damn.

Stuffing the piece of bone in her trophy pouch, she hurries towards the front of the party.  The group files out of the hemispherical room, finding themselves in a wide hallway with a number of openings along the left wall.  Strange devices surrounded by sheaves of paper scribbled with magical notation, a room full of books- they move quickly.

And, quickly, Orbius’ prediction that they would find the phylactery within a short distance of Acererak’s is bourn out.   It’s Rex who spots it first- a disgusting, composite undead, made of bits of many different creatures sewn together like a flesh golem and then animated.  “There!” he cries, pointing, and activates his _boots of speed_, trying to get within striking distance of it.  Unfortunately for him, not only is the room it’s in is full of bookshelves, making it crowded and cramped and difficult for him to get through, but Thrush, Patyn, Jezebel and Angelfire are all closer than he is to it, and block several of his approaches!  He finds himself frustrated and stuck between shelves a short distance away after zigzagging all around the room.  Thrush and Angelfire both manage to unload major damage on it, but then it _dimension doors_ away before they can do more.

Rex looks around for it, but though he doesn’t see it, through an opening into another hallway on the far side of the room he sees something horrible.  The hallway is literally piled with a bunch of writhing forms, but they aren’t alive- they’re _parts._  Heads gibber, torsos with legs but no arms or heads, humanoid bodies missing components- but all still somehow maintaining animation.  Rex grimaces, and then he opens his mouth and breathes out a blast of force.  The force tears into the pile of writhing undead bodies, destroying multiple ones and sending putrescent matter spraying over the area.  

Thrush, enraged and frustrated and tormented by thoughts of Sybele, rushes forward- made _greater invisible_ by Jezebel- and hacks wildly, sending up a spray of reject undead parts and gore.  He screams.

Angelfire, seeing no sign of the phylactery where the others have gone, moves back into the first hallway.  _I seem to recall that it made a left turn... if it goes far enough, it probably intersects with that one..._  As she rounds the corner, though, she has a sudden surprise.  Something slams into her with bone-jarring force, knocking her prone and almost lighting her very soul on fire!   “Winter-wight!” she shouts, then shakes her head to clear her eyes and looks at it.  

“Winter-_toad!!”_ she screams, correcting herself.

Londo, a few dozen feet behind his mistress, rushes forward, flail at the ready, pulse pounding.  

Ulla turns into a stone golem.  Then she moves up next to Rex, and halts briefly when she sees the rejects.  Gulping, she keeps moving forward and starts pounding at them.  They’re undead, right?  They’re bound to be dangerous, right?  And they’re _certainly_ unnatural.  And besides, that phylactery-undead composite thing is nowhere in sight.  Still, just touching the rejects is almost enough to leave her nauseous.  They’re... _profane._

The party spreads out, looking for any sign of the phylactery.  If they can find it... if they can destroy it...!  _Felenga will be destroyed!_

Angelfire screams as the black flame catches on her soul.  The skeletal toad, encased in ice, its skull blazing with blightfire, presses its vicious attack on her.  It’s the size of a normal human but it hits as hard as a giant.  She cries out as it tears into her.  She can feel herself weakening.  Desperately, she casts _timeslip_ on the defensive, and vanishes out from under it.

Rex, meanwhile, throws open a door, cries, “HERE!” and springs into the room.

Too slow.  

The phylactery steps through another _dimension door,_ vanishing only to reappear next to Londo, who immediately turns on it, leaving the winter-toad unopposed for the moment.  The toad takes advantage, moving to flank him, and both it and the phylactery pound on Londo heavily.

Confusion is rampant.  People are running this way and that; Rex is shouting something about here and there; the horrendous rejects are impeding progress.  Londo is bracketed by bad guys, caught in a _cone of cold_; suddenly Rex bursts out another door, and he spots the phylactery again, and he’s shouting again for everyone. 

Thrush rounds the corner- the two hallways actually wrap around the rooms in a blocky “C” shape- and finds himself with the winter-toad before him.  A death grin comes over his face and he begins to hack savagely.  The undead creature whirls, clawing and biting at the fighter, and Thrush’s soul catches fire.  

_Where the hell is everyone?_ wonders Londo.  Little does he know that, thanks to the efforts of Jezebel and her pseudodragon familiar Smacky, Thrush, Payton and Rex are now _greater invisible._  He groans as the phylactery strikes him again, and he falls senseless and bleeding to the floor. The composite undead turns and swings a meaty fist into Patyn, smashing his jaw and nose badly.  

But our heroes have not been idle.  Rex swings, smashes, headbutts and kicks the composite undead, sending it staggering.  Ulla casts _call lightning_ and zaps it with a bolt; and then Rex tears into it again.  And the phylactery falls to the floor, unable to sustain any more damage!  Ulla then casts _cure light wounds_ on Londo, stopping him from bleeding out.  With a groan, the blackguard heals himself.

The winter-toad is still a threat, however.  Patyn unleashes a positive energy burst, but it almost completely ignores the blast and tears into Thrush.  The fighter sucks it up and then returns the favor.  He’s still on blightfire, but it’s flickering lower with every passing moment.  Sir Maxwell moves up and lays hands upon him, trying to keep Thrush from falling, while Patyn grimly moves in, channeling and smiting and flanking, and lands a serious blow to the toad.  

Suddenly Angel returns.  The flame on her has gone out, she’s mostly healed and she’s ready.  Her falchion sings as she slices into it with deadly ability.  But it’s still going, and it tears into her in return!  

_This is ridiculous,_ thinks Ulla as her _call lightning_ blast sluices off the winter-toad like water.  _It’s a toad!_  She wants to laugh; she wants to cry.  This ‘toad’ is tearing them up.

Londo, meanwhile, staggers to his feet.  He glances at the felled phylactery nearby, glances at the battle with the toad further off.  _They can take care of it,_ he thinks of the winter-toad, and sets to searching the phylactery.  He wants to be _sure._  After a few moments, his probing fingers find something hard in its chest.  He pulls forth a dagger and after a little work he extracts a heart-sized gem.

“Oho,” he says cheerfully, and lays the gem on the floor.  With a rare smile, Londo pulls forth his flail again.

Meanwhile, the winter-toad is surrounded, flanked on all sides, and severely assailed.  Finally, Patyn gives it a final smite and it shatters into chunks of ice and bone.  Breathing hard, our heroes look around in time to see Londo pounding on the heart stone.  Immediately realizing that this must be the true phylactery, the others join in.  It is Rex who actually smashes the stone; and from it, a weird shade seems to rise, an image of a tall human before he became undead; a mere man, at one point, before he gave over to madness and the following of Tharizdun; and as if an image in smoke torn by the wind, Felenga tears and shreds.  There is the faint suggestion of an echoing voice crying out, pleading for mercy, and a last, fading, gibbering, _Nooooooooo......._

And then Felenga is gone forever, just like Acererak.


_*Next Time:*_ Thread’s almost over, folks.  Next time is the epilogue!  After that- a new story hour thread for the epic party!


----------



## Knightfall

Awsome!


----------



## Greybar

Wow.

Definitely a big "where do you go from here?"

I can't wait to see...


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Celebrations to the death of Felenga and Acerak!

Any details on that fine and funky treasure they dug up? I'm always intruiged to see what gifts you come up with for your players. And any character sheets that can be posted between threads would be great!


----------



## the Jester

My favorite piece of loot from this was the _cloak of dramatic speech,_ which lets the wearer deliver a dramatic speech, stopping the action til he or she is done.

"Evil Villain Cloak of Exposition..."

I don't keep copies of the pcs' character sheets these days, so- although I'd love it if the players would post 'em- I unfortunately cannot do so.


----------



## omrob

the Jester said:
			
		

> My favorite piece of loot from this was the _cloak of dramatic speech,_




Now we need to make all the "Acererak your bony *ss is dust!" shirts ? ! ? 

with a similar epithet for the back side that covers Felenga


----------



## Dakkareth

Whoa! Great stuff!


----------



## Knightfall

*Epilogue? Epilogue! Epilogue!! Epilogue!!!*


----------



## Angel of Adventure

*Somewhere deep in Lich Hell . . .*

The shadowy former-selves of Falenga and Acererak meet at the water cooler for a break between toture sessions:

Falenga:  Dude!  I tried to tell you those adventurers were bad news.  Why would you ever lure them *to your phylactory*?  That was stupid!  (I did everything I could to hide mine!)  They squashed us both like bugs and . . .

Floating Skull of Acererak:  Shut up!  My thousands of years of planning may have been aburptly thwarted, but your still my b#$%#!  Here, put this in your prison pocket . . .


----------



## the Jester

*epilogue*

The ethros, Remilino, wears an impassive face.  “Your friend’s condition is unfortunate,” he states.  An understatement if ever there was one.

Sybele moans behind the stitches that keep her mouth shut, her eyes closed, her limbs torturously sewn to her body.

_”Help her,”_ Thrush grates.  His voice is dangerous.

The ethros begins, and the party watches as he casts a succession of odd and unique spells, beginning with divinations and ending with a sequence of abjurations and evocations.

To no avail.

“Please,” Thrush whispers.  “Please...”

“There is one more thing I can try,” the ethros announces, “tomorrow, once I can prepare the proper magicks.”  He turns to Thrush.  “But the odds are against you.”  And he turns on his heel and walks back towards the painted room.  Back towards his death pilgrims.

***

Sybele’s eyes have run out of tears.  She aches, her head feels bloated with blood from hanging upside down, her limbs are weak and shaking.  If she could only pass out, even for an instant!  If the agony would let up, just for a second!  A small whimper escapes her shut mouth.  If only she could... just... _die._  Just end it...

She has no idea that she’s hung there for days.  It seems an eternity.  Then, suddenly, as if a great weight had been lifted from her, she feels it all _stop._  The pain recedes to a rational level and she can faintly hear her friends talking- what are they saying?  

Suddenly she lifts, twists, rotates.  Sybele’s head swims; she feels as though she’s spinning.  _What’s happening?_  It feels as though she’s upright... her head feels light, she doesn’t understand... but she’s so weak, can barely groan.  She’s dying.

A voice she doesn’t recognize says, “I will do my best to remove the stitches without killing her.”

Horbin: “I can heal her-“ 

“Not until I release the spell.  And I cannot do that until the stitches are... safe.”

Then Sybele feels a knife digging at her thighs where they’re stitched together.  She jerks, whimpers.  Delirious, her head lolls to the side, and at last her consciousness lets go.  She swims down into a blessedly painless darkness.  She sighs.  She’s content.  She could stay here forever.  It’s safe here.  Ohhh, the pain- she doesn’t want to think about it- but it’s too late.  She jerks back into consciousness, a splinter of red-hot agony in her calves where someone’s slowly excavating the stitches. 

She tries her best to hold still, but when he comes to work on the stitches on her face, she can’t help but let the untapped depths of her tear ducts flow.  

And she passes out again.

***

“Now,” the ethros says at last, nodding to Horbin.  The knife in his hand is crimson with Sybele’s blood, but he has managed to do minimal damage to her, save for one eye.

And Horbin the Holy steps forward, placing his hands upon his friend, and the power of Dexter flows through him; and her color deepens, her wounds close, and slowly her breathing steadies.  And Sybele opens her eyes.

Anxiously, Thrush cries, “Are you all right, honey?”

Sybele takes a deep, shaky breath.  And nods.

And our heroes’ victory is complete.



*THE END*

of _To War Against Felenga....



but not of our heroes’ adventures!_


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## Knightfall

*Yaaayyy!!!*

That is definitely one of the best wrapups to a Story Hour thread I've ever read. Can't wait for the Epic thread to begin. Hmm, what's next? taking on lords of  darkness directly.

Oh wait, there's still the Temple of Elemental Evil, right? and a few remaining Bile Lords, right? Maybe a confrontation with a Aspect of Bleak, as per the Aspecs in the Miniatures Handbook. A trip to the city of Union in the Outer Planes would be quite humbling for the PCs.

Oh wait, I'm giving the Jester too many good ideas. I'll stop now.

Heh.

Cheers!

KF72


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## the Jester

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> *Yaaayyy!!!*
> 
> That is definitely one of the best wrapups to a Story Hour thread I've ever read. Can't wait for the Epic thread to begin. Hmm, what's next? taking on lords of  darkness directly.
> 
> Oh wait, there's still the Temple of Elemental Evil, right? and a few remaining Bile Lords, right? Maybe a confrontation with a Aspect of Bleak, as per the Aspecs in the Miniatures Handbook. A trip to the city of Union in the Outer Planes would be quite humbling for the PCs.




Thanks, Knightfall1972!  High praise...

As to your speculations there...

The Temple of Elemental Evil: In destroying Felenga, the party destroyed the bindings that stopped the elemental princes of evil from attacking one another... the new thread follows up on this somewhat.  More interesting, prolly, is the death of Imix and its repercussions!

Bile Lords- Return to Bile Mountain is well underway. 

Aspect of Bleak- don't have the MiniHB, so I doubt I'll be doing that.  You never know, though.

Union- meh, I don't really dig on Union.  I'd rather see the party go to Kseethee (epic flying city in my campaign) or Sigil (I've been looking at lots of PS stuff lately, though never played/run any before.)

Oh yeah: here's a link to the new thread, Great Conflicts.


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## the Jester

*Play by Post*

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

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

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


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## Sandain

Thankyou Jester, that was fantastic!  I wonder if you have time to email me your RttToH notes?  my address is daniel.blake AT waiariki.ac.nz


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## the Jester

Sandain, I'm afraid I've been having serious problems accessing my email account lately, but I'll see what I can do... I'll be out of town the next few days, but when I return I will (once again, argh) perform hours of disinfection and see what I can do.


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## Eridanis

Six-and-a-half-year-old thread necro...

Got pointed here by the recent Tomb of Horrors thread, and I really enjoyed the read! Can't wait to read the epic thread and read your Rogue's Gallery thread with the crunchy goodies.


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