# Aphonion:  Journals of a Licensed Diabolist (Sat. and Wed. updates, last 9/3, 9/10)



## Cerebral Paladin (Apr 14, 2007)

This storyhour is set in the same world as "Aphonion Tales," but this party adventures on a different continent.  The storyhour is first-person and biased.  It focuses on my character in the game and his actions and reactions, without trying to fairly describe the actions of the other characters.  I do add occasional editorial comments in square brackets, either because I think they will amuse or to clarify the storyhour.  I'll also occasionally add sidebars to explain background information that the narrator assumes.  The storyhour is also fairly dark and includes mature content; while the narrator is still LN, I suspect that the story will eventually be of his fall into evil, although what brand of evil is unclear.  But then, that's usually the fate of diabolists.

Setting copyright the DM, 1975-2008.  Storyhour copyright the author, 2006-2008.

*The Journals of Konrad Jagger, Licensed Diabolist*

The regulations of the Holy Temple of Paranswarm, Lord of Orderly Darkness, may He bless us with a place in His Order for the world, require that all licensed diabolists make regular reports to the Society of the Hands of Hell and to the priesthood.  I have been unable to report to either since the fall of my homeland of Caldefor, some seven years previous.   I would present myself for examination, but I do not know where any representatives of the SHH are in the aftermath of the intaking, nor where I could find a priest of the Orderly Darkness in these lands dominated by the followers of Glor’diadel.  Without any better recourse, I keep this journal, that I may record my service to the Orderly Darkness and the service to which I put the fiendish servitors of Lord Paranswarm that I summon from the Hells.  I hope that the Temple will find this record sufficient when I can submit to proper supervision once more.  If not, I shall accept any punishment that the Temple decrees, for any failure must be mine alone. 

My last orders were to defend the lands of Caldefor against the Shadow that surged against them.  We failed, and Caldefor fell to the Shadow.  Indeed, even now it is passing through the Shadow into the Abyss itself.  But our orders to defend the land remain, and so I serve with the Eighth Auxiliary Brigade in our effort to restore Caldefor to the Darkness of Lord Paranswarm.  My companions in the Eighth are:  Buzz and Spring, two xephs; Twang, a kobold; Toby McGillicutty, a most disordered man, so depraved as to follow Whimsey, and yet we must treat him as an ally for now; Lady Gerda von Hollinghoff, from one of the noble families of Caldefor; Kenshir, a retainer of her family’s and a man of many skills [so many that his character changed about three times over the course of the first two sessions]; Cilorean Leafbower, an elf; Stumm, a human man in dark armor who has spent much time in Shadow, but who is also a priest of the Holy Temple; Durak, a young man who has some training from the mighty Hasturs; and Ulrich Lars, a young human man who is more of a peddler than a soldier, complete with a large wagon filled with supplies.  What’s more, nearly half of our number were already dead by this date.  Spring, Lady Gerda, Cilorean, and Durak were all ghosts, still active on our plane thanks to the strange magics in the lands that border Shadow. 

Our officer, 3rd Lieutenant Hedwig von Brief called us together for a briefing before dispatching us on a mission.  Stumm was newly returned from three years spent within the Shadowlands.  He began to report, but when he realized how much of our unit was now undead, he kept his own council.  The Lieutenant commended him for his return and welcomed him back.  I rejoiced as well, because Stumm would be able to confess me after so many years without the Sacraments.  And if he judged it too dangerous to talk freely of what he had learned, that was his right as a priest, for the Temple must often keep knowledge secret when it would be too dangerous to share.  Several ranking officers suggested that he should be put in skin, soon.  Stumm demurred from this suggestion, and again, who was to doubt the judgment of a priest in matters of purity?  I am not one to claim the duties of the Inquisition for myself. 

Lieutenant von Brief called us over to meet with an individual who had intelligence that could lead to an important mission.  The source of this intelligence was a strange dwarf wizard.  He called himself Lankman.  While he had several companions, perhaps the oddest thing about him was his enormous staff, which would periodically speak, but as a baby, saying things like “goo” and “ga.”  I made the sign of the Downward Arrow to protect me from any chaos that might be associated with him.  Still, his information was most interesting, at least if it were true:  he had heard reports that one of the fallen Hastur towers, the former Circle Greenfield, still had an intact “matrix screen.”  I am not certain precisely what a matrix screen is, but I am confident that it is related to the mighty psionic devices that the Hastur use to augment their own considerable power.  The Hastur, of course, maintain the Shadowline, containing the Shadow and repulsing its troops when they venture forth.  Circle Greenfield would be part of the old Shadowline that had protected Caldefor, before its fall.  He wished us to investigate, find out what was living near the tower, and report back.  Actually recovering the matrix would likely be beyond our abilities, he thought.    Circle Greenfield lies on the far side of Caldefor, fourteen days ride through Shadow.  He promised to meet us at Circle Woebegone.  [Where the elves have high Con, the dwarves have high Cha, and all the psions are of above-average power.] 

The Lieutenant indicated that we should take this as orders, but that he would not be accompanying us.  Some of the more disorderly members of the unit thought that we should simply proceed without any sort of command structure at all, but those of us who are loyal to the Holy Faith knew that that was madness.  Without order, our expedition would be doomed.  And the priests always told me that I should follow the orders of my superiors and not try to make decisions on my own, except about technical matters.  How could I follow that instruction without a clear commander in the field?  There was some discussion of making Stumm our officer, as he was a priest and thus suited to leadership, but some people resisted this, for reasons I do not fully understand, although I think they may have wanted to ensure his command responsibilities did not interfere with his sacred duties.  The possibility that Lady Gerda should lead us was also broached, for she was a noble, but she was adamantly opposed:  she wanted an officer to follow, but was more of a knight champion than a noble commander herself.  Finally, Lieutenant von Brief appointed Cilorean as sergeant and second in command of our unit, with Stumm as a sergeant-chaplain, with the same rank but different duties.  We also went to Tower Watershore, the local Hastur tower, to requisition a ten-gallon cask of skin, in case our wounds in the Shadowlands required it.  There was again some discussion of healing Sergeant-Chaplain Stumm, but he assured us that we should save the skin for when it was more desperately needed.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit (Apr 18, 2007)

Interesting start, CP. I've been enjoying Aphonion Tales very much, so I shall keep an eye on this story as well (so even less time devoted to actually working ...  :\ )


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Apr 21, 2007)

Thanks HOHB.

A couple of quick encounters ahead.
----
With our preparations completed, we crossed over from Tarkenia into Shadow.  For three centuries, Shadow surrounded Caldefor on three sides.  The land was mountainous and rocky, less fertile and with a lower population than the other realms that bounded the Shadowlands.  But still, it was alive, with plants and animals, crops and villages.  Now, Caldefor is a dusty wasteland.  We saw the occasional small white plant with red berries, although none of us recognized it, but otherwise, no vegetation was left.  And so we rode on. 

The first day passed without incident.  In the first night, however, a patrol approached us.  The patrol consisted of five figures, each mounted on a nightmare, with four wearing partial plate and the fifth wearing full plate with embedded crystals.  We recognized them as death knights, probably members of the Grand Count of Caldefor’s court, now that the Grand Count has turned apostate and entered the service of the Shadow, willingly betraying his country.  They hailed us in the name of Urlodo and the Count of Caldefor.  We posed as loyal servants of Caldefor, as indeed we were and they were not.  They asked why we were still so close to the Shadowline, now that the assault was over.  They had only participated because Gnnnst, one of the six great servants of Borsh’tro, had forced them to.  They ordered us to return to the nearest fortification, where a black dragon has assumed command.  They then rode off. 

The second day also passed uneventfully, but we were attacked during the first watch of that night.  Yellow eums burrowed beneath our camp and attacked, trying to pull Sgt. Cilorean under ground, where they would surely have eaten him or worse.  The yellow eum are foul beasts, about four foot tall and with mangy yellow fur and a long tail, wearing only a belt.  They can be quite difficult to fight-- while they are not very powerful, their burrowing tactics make them dangerous foes.  But we were able to keep the Sergeant on the surface, and kill enough of the eums to drive the remainder away. 

During the third day of travel, a spirit looked us over and spoke to Spring, mistaking him for an undead servant of Shadow.  The spirit asked him where he had found such a plump group and asked if he was taking us to the dragon or to the Spider Mistress in the fortifications.  Spring said that we were a gift for the dragon and asked the spirit its mission.  It said that it was sent to scout the border on behalf of one of the great death knights. 

We continued to encounter forces of Shadow.  In the fourth day, we met a group of emaciated humans, with spears and partial armor.  They identified themselves as true born.  The true born are one of three pure human tribes maintained by the masters of Shadow.  The true born are the largest of the three tribes, and in Caldefor, but they are weak.  They are more than slaves, but only barely.  We bullied them for more information, and they said that they bring word to the dragon, and that they were loyal.  We also learned that the great monk who serves the Count has come forth from her lair to command one of the fortifications.  We thanked them and sent them on their way.  It pained me to allow forces of Shadow to leave when we could surely have bested them, but the sergeants said that it would be too dangerous as it might draw attention to our mission.  I obeyed their orders. 

That night, a column of black eum-- the reptilian, almost draconic, eum servitors of Gnnnst-- passed by our camp.  They were not a large group, but were taller than the yellow eums and moving as a disciplined unit.  Again, we let them pass, for the black eum are one of the most advanced armies in the service of the Shadow. 

[During the fifth day, a voice on the wind taunted Stumm, saying that he was the only one loyal to Caldefor.  He lost some sanity to the experience, but the rest of us did not know about it.]


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Apr 28, 2007)

The following night, we heard chanting on the far side of a hill that neighbored our camp site.  We went to investigate and saw a human man holding a small boy of perhaps five years on a makeshift altar.  He dedicated the boy to Tarama of the Quenching Flames, one of the Six, who he described as mistress of all she surveys.  At that point, he noticed us and asked whether we wished to join in the ceremony.  Spring said that we did not, lying that we served Gnnnst.  While he kept the foul priest’s attention, Sergeant-Chaplain Stumm closed and then bashed the priest with his mace.  At that, we all joined the attack, and I summoned a lemure and some infernal rats to aid the battle.  The heathen priest was quickly hacked to pieces, and my lemure chewed on his corpse before returning to the Hells.  Thanks be to Paranswarm for granting us victory.   

We took the boy with us, although he caused some further consternation within the Brigade.  The Sergeant-Chaplain and the faithful among us sought to lead him into the Blessed Darkness, but some of the other members of the group were resolutely opposed to his salvation.  In other times, we might have been forced to defend the Faith against those spreaders of chaos, but under the circumstances, we dared not fight amongst ourselves.  The Sergeant-Chaplain reassured me that the manifest truth of Paranswarm would surely bring the boy, called Quickstep, into the Darkness.  We also located a magic ring on the priest’s corpse.  There was some dispute over that as well, but Sergeant Cilorean finally claimed it by right of his rank, and then gave it to Spring to use, who in turn gave it to Buzz. 

On the sixth day, we briefly encountered a quasit.  I think that it sought to become Twang’s familiar, but the kobold knew that consorting with demons, even least demons such as quasits, could damn his soul.  So he sent it away from his presence.  [Actually, Konrad was completely deceived here.  Twang bound the quasit, named Snaggletooth, into service, but then ordered it telepathically to remain invisible at all times so the rest of them would not realize it was there.  The group was completely unaware of this.] 

After dealing with the quasit, there were no further matters of import until the morning of the eleventh day of our travels.  Another group of black eums, this time a squad of five, approached us.  They warned us not to interfere with the maneuvers ahead, where troops have been brought in to strengthen the line.  They also told us that there had been at least two dozen probing attacks launched across the Shadowline.  We thanked them and continued on. 

As we continued our travels, we saw for ourselves that there are demons active in Caldefor.  A small form flew high above us, circling and watching, during the night following the twelfth day of our travels.  Quickstep clearly recognized it, and while he was reticent, repeated questioning finally produced results and we were able to confirm that it was a chasme, one of the foul fly demons.  I would not mind the chance to try my devils against a demon, but the chasme simply watched, and the Sergeant ordered that we not take any steps to draw its ire.  After some time of circling, it flew off.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (May 5, 2007)

Finally, on the fourteenth day we approached the immediate surroundings of the lost Hastur tower.  Before we reached the tower itself, a group of the ratmen approached us.  Three enormous, but not fat, rats led their group, sniffing and scrabbling at the dust.  Shortly behind the rats came two extraordinarily large ratmen, each nearly ten feet tall, and then finally a human-sized ratmen.  All of the ratmen were in brown and green, which I assume but do not know is a sign of tribe or allegiance or so forth.  The human-sized ratman appeared to be in charge and wore a group of tools hanging from its belt.  It asked if we were here to join the army that was assembling, and when we said that we were, it ordered us to go straight to the intake point and report to the tanarii that was in charge there.   We privately resolved to stay far away from the intake point; a powerful tanarii might see through our lies, and that could be disastrous for the mission.  Still, we headed in the direction the ratman indicated until we were out of sight and then began surreptitiously approaching the encampment. 

Twang demonstrated that his sorcerous abilities were not limited to _magic missiles_ and cast a scrying spell to study the encampment and the tower more closely.  [Actually, that’s only what Twang claimed to do.  In truth, he sent his quasit familiar forward as an invisible scout, asking it to report back on what it saw via telepathy.]  In its inarticulate way, the kobold reported that two to three thousand soldiers surrounded the tower in an encampment.  The soldiers were not particularly guarding the tower, however.  They were camped as if ready to move out. Twang said that there was a route that would take us to the tower without approaching many of the troops, and the soldiers left an empty ring immediately around the tower.  We resolved to send a scouting group forward to investigate the tower. 

[End of session 1] 

While we prepared our scouts, we saw two vrocks, the mighty vulture demons, flying north out of the enemy encampment.  Fortunately, they did not spot us.  Someday, if it be Paranswarm’s will, I may be able to summon devils that are sufficiently powerful to defeat vrocks, but I fear that they would have killed us all if they had seen us and attacked.  Still, to be safe we waited some time after they passed before our scouts headed out. 

Our scouting party consisted of Lady Gerda, Kenshir, and Siggus.  [We had a somewhat different party for the second session.  Stumm, Buzz, Spring, Twang, Toby, and Ulrich were not present, while Siggus, a male human rogue, joined us.  Also, Kenshir was rebuilt as a monk-ranger.]  As I did not accompany them, I cannot vouch for their account of what happened while they were scouting.  Nonetheless, I will set out what they reported. 

There was no army presence at all to the south of the tower.  However, traveling too far south to skirt the army would have been as dangerous as passing through the army, because the tower had formed part of the old Shadowline, before the fall of Caldefor.  Beyond that line, most of the land was Deep Shadow, the region of the Shadowlands where the top twenty planes of the abyss overlap with the Shadowland.  Passing through Deep Shadow to reach the tower would have run the risk of being lost in the Abyss forever. 

Our scouts sneaked forward, with  Lady Gerda concealing herself by simply phasing through the ground itself, while Kenshir and Siggus relied on their extensive training in stealth.  They passed through the old village that had surrounded the tower; some of the buildings were occupied, but the cover the buildings provided allowed them to pass through unobserved.  With some care, they reached the tower itself. 

The gate to the tower had been forced open, but there were neither guards outside nor indications that the forces of Shadow were within.  There was a musky smell, which Kenshir interpreted as indicating the presence of an animal within.  With a great deal of care, they edged through the gate and began moving up the stairs.  If the matrix screen were in tact, it would be at one of the top rooms of the tower.  They ignored the doors to the kitchen and proceeded upwards.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (May 12, 2007)

Suddenly, a large cat with tentacles sprouting from its back leapt onto the stairs in front of them, hissing and blocking their path.  Siggus guessed that it must be a creature of Shadow, and tried to reassure it in Shadowspeak and Abyssal.  This had the opposite of the effect that they expected, as the cat unleashed a psionic blast.  Fortunately, none of them were knocked unconscious by the blast of energy.  With no choice, the scouting party attacked.  Kenshir quickly pinned the cat while the others pummeled it until it suddenly stopped moving and dissolved into a cloud of crystalline dust. 

As it dissolved, the tower lit up, with the walls themselves glowing.  Our scouts decided to flee, but a portcullis dropped across the main gate as they headed for it, trapping them within, and they heard a voice inside their heads:  << Creatures of shadow:  Though my masters are long gone, I know your tongue.>> 

That the tower began to glow is the first piece of their description that I can verify personally.  At approximately the time that they could be expected to have reached the tower, a spider web of light crawled up the surface of the tower.  The entire army began moving back, away from the tower, in response, unfortunately moving them closer to us. 

Returning to our scouts’ account:  they apologized profusely and said that they were not creatures of Shadow, but had assumed that the cat was.  The tower instructed them to “advance to the chamber of the Specularum” so that it could perceive them more directly.  They proceeded up the staircase to a large chamber, occupying an entire floor of the tower, near the very top.  An enormous mirror faced out towards what had been the Shadowline, with a huge array of crystals directly in front of it.  When they arrived, they heard the voice in their heads again, stating that it was the matrix of the tower and still guarded the tower, despite the fall of the surrounding lands and the army of Shadow watching the tower. 

Our scouts assured the matrix that we still fought to free Caldefor from the Shadow and that help was coming for the matrix.  They reported that the matrix was pleased by this.  They also said that the matrix told them that if it had someone with the Gift, it could draw on the tower’s reservoir of power to destroy the surrounding army and preserve an area for the light, which would keep it safe until someone arrived who could move it.  Lady Gerda volunteered that we had a wagon, and the matrix said that then we could move it after it eliminated the army.  The tower then used its power to confer invisibility on our scouts.  Again, I can confirm that when they returned to us the scouts were invisible, although I only have their word for the rest of the description.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (May 19, 2007)

Sergeant Cilorean resolved to travel to the tower, and Lady Gerda agreed to escort him so that the matrix would recognize him as an ally.  As they made their way through the army towards the tower, a voice spoke to their minds, identifying itself as the commander of the second unit.  It ordered them to accompany a large dog-headed demon--a glabrezou, I should say, based on their description--to investigate the tower and find out why it was active.  As this gave them an excuse to continue towards their destination, they did not object.  When they were within a quarter-mile of the tower, it rendered them invisible, convincing the glabrezou that they had been destroyed, and leading it to turn back and report.  The Sergeant and Lady Gerda were thus able to make their way to the tower unmolested. 

When they reached the tower, they made their way up to the Specularum, where Sergeant Cilorean activated the matrix’s weaponry.  An enormous amount of psionic energy coursed through the Sergeant, devastating the army with a tremendous blast of psionic energy that began with the right-most edge of the army and worked its way across to the left.  Perhaps a quarter of the army survived by fleeing, mostly from the left flank; the rest were utterly destroyed.  Although I must rely on Lady Gerda’s description of the Sergeant’s participation, I can confirm the effects.  I saw with my own eyes the destruction of the enemy. 

With the army destroyed or scattered, we hurried up to the tower, moving Ulrich’s wagon with us.  As we entered the Specularum room, the matrix broke its connection to the reservoir of power, which poured out into the surrounding lands and caused them to bloom again, for the first time in seven years.  I can only pray that someday Lord Paranswarm will see fit to restore all of Caldefor that way.  We moved the matrix onto the wagon, along with Sergeant Cilorean, who had been battered into unconsciousness by channeling far more energy than his training could handle.  But he was not dead, or, rather, was not any more dead than he had been before hand, and slowly began healing, with additional aid from Durak.  The matrix also informed us of a stock of clingfire.  We could not allow that to fall into enemy hands, but transporting it raised tremendous dangers.  So we loaded it onto my warhorse and led the horse by a long tether, leaving it nearly one hundred yards behind us. 

Our return trip began smoothly.  We did not see anything of note until the second night of our travels away from the tower, and even then, while we saw a large body of black eum marching, they either did not notice our group or considered us too insignificant to investigate.  We had a more substantial interaction with the forces of Shadow on the fourth night of our travels-- a skeletal figure flew up to us on a skeletal wyvern and commanded us to report on what had happened at the tower in the name of Tarama, one of the Six.  Lady Gerda and I were on watch at the time, so we replied that the tower had activated and destroyed most of the army.  We also told the rider that if they hurried an army there, the tower’s defenses would be lower and it could easily be destroyed.  Because we had removed all that was of value at the tower, any resources we could draw off to investigate or even assault the tower would be resources that would not be spent threatening us, the rest of the resistance, or our allies over the Shadowline.  But the rider simply thanked us, informing Lady Gerda and me that it would remember and reward us, and winged away.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (May 26, 2007)

The following day, Kenshir, our lead scout, called us to a sudden halt.  An intense rain of acid had fallen to the ground, not more than perhaps fifty feet ahead of his position, and the rain was accompanied by the sound of tremendous roaring in the sky.  We searched the sky and spotted a most curious conflict:  a tremendously powerful bronze dragon was battling a much smaller black dragon.  The bronze dragon would clearly win, as it was a wyrm, whereas the black was only an adult or so.  We discussed it for a moment and concluded that the only sensible explanation was that the bronze was on its death flight:  many dragons, as they near the ends of their lives, fly on a protracted assault against their enemies, seeking to kill as many as possible before finally being defeated.  The Sergeant, who had regained consciousness while we traveled, decided that we should aid the bronze however we could.  It would win this fight, but if we could conserve its resources, it might destroy yet more of the Shadow forces.  He channeled energy from the matrix to heal the bronze, while I summoned some creatures to harry the black.  The dragon took much healing, leaving the matrix completely unpowered.  Though it could be recharged, we would not be able to call on it for our defense for the rest of the trip.  The infernals I summoned could barely harm the black, but they did serve as flankers, distracting it and making the bronze’s task that much easier.  With our assistance, the bronze quickly finished its foe and landed before us, only lightly injured but clearly old and tired.

The bronze thanked us for our assistance and asked who we were and what our purpose was.  We described our holy mission to save Caldefor.  The dragon approved and asked if we had any intelligence that might guide its flight.  After some discussion, we informed it of the black dragon that we had been told commands some of the fortifications of Caldefor held by the Shadow army.  The bronze seemed almost covetous as it though about the possibility of destroying a draconic commander of the enemy forces.  To aid it in its mission, we offered it the supply of clingfire that we had taken from the tower.  We were unlikely to be able to use it, and even transporting it raised a risk of disaster for us.  It happily agreed-- the clingfire would be tremendously helpful in driving the black out of its defenses, and likely destroying many of its minions as well.  We carefully unbuckled the harness, and the bronze delicately lifted all of my equipage off my steed’s back.  It would not need the saddle, but sorting out the saddlebags with the clingfire would be more effort than it was worth.  I believe the experience of having a dragon lift the saddle off with its claws scared several years out of my horse’s life, but it is a beast, made to serve us as we are made to serve Lord Paranswarm.  Had the dragon needed to lift up the entire horse, it would have been a worthy sacrifice.  With a last word of thanks, the dragon glided away towards its glorious death.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jun 2, 2007)

Several more days passed without event.  Towards the middle of the ninth day, my horse bolted from the rear of the group as a pack of skeletal wolves attacked us.  The battle was long and fierce, less because they threatened us badly, although a few of us had close calls, but because they viewed the pack horse pulling the cart as a juicy morsel.  If they had succeeded in killing it, or even hamstringing it beyond our ability to heal, we would face the unenviable prospect of being stranded far behind enemy lines with a phenomenally valuable asset that we could not move without the wagon.  Even if we could still move the cart, we would have been slowed, perhaps fatally, and abandoning the matrix would not have born considering.  Finally, we triumphed over the last wolf.  The horses were injured, but we were able to heal them and continue on.  [Several additional players rejoined us during this encounter, including the players of Twang, Buzz, and Spring.  At some point, Stiggus may have needed to leave early, but my notes aren’t clear.  This was also the point where Twang had a telepathic conversation with Snaggletooth, his quasit, that led up to him sending it away.  While the quasit was a tremendously useful familiar, Twang decided that the risk that his companions would kill him if they knew about the small demon was too great.]

That night, an emaciated prairie dog began approaching our camp.  Lady Gerda smiled at the forlorn creature, and suggested that it might make a pet for Quickstep, the young boy we carried in the wagon with the matrix.  It was a clever thought, and might have drawn Quickstep towards those of us who sought to convert him to the true Faith, because Lady Gerda is loyal to the Lord of Darkness.  But we failed to plan around the kobold:  when he saw the dog approaching our camp, Twang’s eyes lit up, and he quickly dispatched the poor beast with a _magic missile_.  He did not even use our small fire, but ran forward and began chewing on its still warm body raw.  Despite his small size, Twang completely devoured the dog, while the rest of us looked on in distaste and horror.

We continued on through the dusty, desolate land that had once been our home.  On the morning of the eleventh day of our return trip, we passed near some of the Shadow’s major fortifications.  To our delight, a tall column of smoke climbed into the sky from the fortress.  The bronze had clearly put our clingfire to good use, although we did not investigate more closely to see how badly it had damaged the fortress.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jun 9, 2007)

After nightfall, as we began to rein in our horses to make camp, another pack of those accursed skeletal wolves assaulted us.  This time, there were five of the creatures, and again they posed a substantial threat, although I would say that we would have prevailed unaided.  While my companions battled them with sword and spell, I summoned servants from the Hells of Lord Paranswarm to engage the undead.  Moments after my lemure arrived and I ordered it into battle, however, there was a clap of displaced air as another devil appeared.  She was perhaps six feet tall and looked for the most part like an extraordinarily beautiful human woman, with tiny horns, red eyes, leathery bat-like wings on her back, and a pointed tail.  She appeared to be naked, but with wisps of smoke concealing just enough of her body to make her even more alluring than if she were completely revealed.  I knew at once from looking at her that she was an erinyes and that she must have noticed me summoning a much lesser servitor of Lord Paranswarm and come to investigate.

[What’s that you say?  Black leathery wings sounds more like a succubus than an erinyes, since erinyes typically have feathered wings?  And wouldn’t it make more sense for a demon to notice the summoning of a devil in the Shadowlands than a devil?  Well, yes.  Let this be a lesson about tactics in games with critical failures:  When you as a player have figured something out already, asking for a Knowledge check to confirm is a dubious choice, since you have a 5% chance of disaster.]

The erinyes turned to address me, and I dropped to my knees out of respect for her lofty status.  I should have bowed my head and averted my eyes, as well, but I must confess that I could not stop myself from sneaking glances at her perfect form.  I asked, “How may I serve you, my lady?”

In a mellifluous voice with a certain hardness to it that suggested anger, she said, “Don’t you think it is a little disrespectful to summon a devil here?”

“No, my lady,” I replied.  “I have a license!”

“Indeed?  Show me.”

I drew forth the parchment with the seal of the Bishop and the Master of the Society of the Hands of Hell who had approved me as a diabolist.  “You see, my lady?  I am fully authorized to summon devils and other infernal creatures throughout Caldefor and its neighboring lands.”

She looked over my license and nodded.  “I see.  Most interesting--I had not known that the SHH were active in Caldefor.”  She paused from our conversation and blasted the remaining two skeletal wolves out of existence with a wave of her hand.  “Thank you, Konrad, for your cooperation.  You may go about your business.  I will contact you shortly.”

“Thank you, my lady.  I eagerly await the day and hope that I may be of service.”

The erinyes smiled at that last and disappeared in a renewed blast of smoke.  As she had destroyed the last of our foes, I dismissed my remaining servitors, and we made camp.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jun 16, 2007)

Finally, towards the end of the fourteenth day, we drew within sight of the shadowline.  A mounted force angled to intercept us, closing from deeper in Shadow.  We waited for them to close before taking any action, as we could not be sure at first whether they were friends or foes, this close to the border.  As they drew nearer, we could see that their banner bore the rayed sun of Glor’diadel, and that there were eight horsemen with an officer, along with one prisoner.  Spring hurried forward and greeted them, explaining that they were allies.  They warned us to hurry across the shadowline, as a large body of black eum were in pursuit.  We hurried as much as we could, with the cavalry forming a guard around the wagon when they learned what it contained.  Spring flew up to see if she could see the eum.  She quickly returned and reported that there were about 120 black eum approaching us.  We made the best time we could, although we could see them nearing us as we tried to hurry to the shadowline.  We slipped across the border just before they arrived, although they continued their pursuit.  As they reached the line, however, an elven maiden teleported in, high above us, and began hurling needfire at them to drive them back.  They were far too weak to stand against one of the Hastur, especially one bolstered by the power of the shadowline itself, and quickly broke and ran. 

Safely back in the lands of Tarkenia, we quickly made our way to Tower Woebegone.  The Hastur of that tower reverently lifted the matrix with their minds and moved it into their tower.  Caldefor may still be in Shadow, but we had struck a mighty blow, and will bring it back into the Darkness soon enough.

[End of Session 2-- sessions 1 and 2 were different days of the same weekend.  Session 3 was a year later.]


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jun 23, 2007)

[Session 3]

[I joined this session late, so I only have basic information about our travel into the Shadowlands.  The party consisted of Spring, Durak, and Cilorean, with Konrad joining partway through.  The party was given two ounces of bone water dust, an extremely powerful dessicant that kills almost instantly.  The Hasturs make it a grain at a time, using the resources of entire circles, so the amount we were given represented a substantial investment of psionic resources in our group.  We were also given a barrel of skin, in case we needed it.  Our mission was to head across Caldefor to one of the dragonholds that the Shadow uses to secure its side of the Shadowline and to use the bone water dust to destroy the army at the dragonhold.  By the time I got to this session, we had reached the dragonhold and were hiding in a _rope trick_, while Spring scouted the enemy army (using his undead status as cover.)  We had previously learned of a lord named Bastion, who held a manor near the coast of Caldefor.  Lord Bastion was a vampire who had served the Grand Count of Caldefor before the invasion and continued to serve the Grand Count as a minion of Shadow after the invasion.]

As we peered out at the enemy army, we saw a wide range of different troops.  There were a large number of eums; many undead--mostly unintelligent, but with a handful of free-willed undead as leaders; many demons, ranging from the relatively insignificant rutterkin up to some powerful demons; a host of trueborn, although fewer of them than the other major components of the army; and a tribe of goblyns, although they were camped up on a nearby hill instead of with the army proper.  And, of course, there were the dragon caves:  six great caves leading into the face of the hill.  Taken as a whole, the army would be far beyond our capabilities if we did not have the bone water dust.

After an extended period scouting, Spring returned to the _rope trick_ and reported to Sergeant Cilorean.  He had been within the dragon caves themselves.  While six black dragons, including a wyrm, made their lairs within the complex, only one dragon was currently present.  She seemed to be a scholarly sort, more interested in studying her scrolls than in leading the army.  The dragon was also freakishly meticulous--a trait all the more unusual in a servitor of chaos.  Moreover, while the absence of the wyrm lowered the value of our target, it greatly increased our likelihood of success.  Spring also reported that the dragon caves contained a black eum with strange silver tracery on its chest.  That eum spotted him and had almost created a serious problem, although ultimately it did not.

I explained based on my studies that the black eum was probably one of the eums with a direct connection to Gnnnnst.  Most such eums are powerful witchdoctors.  He would certainly be another threat for us to watch.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jul 9, 2007)

Spring also reported that before he returned to the _rope trick_, he did some more investigation to determine where the commander of the army was.  He spoke to one of the free-willed undead and said that he had a report for the commander and needed to know where the commander’s tent was.  The undead gestured towards one of the large tents within the camp and said that Spring should take the report to the commander immediately, as the commander jealously guards information and would allow no one else in the army to learn of its contents, even if they would have been able to use the information better.  The undead muttered a little about how the new commander was not up to the standard set by his predecessor; based on some of the things he said, we concluded that the previous commander had probably been a marilith, while the new commander was a glabrezou.  Spring lied, saying that he still needed to finish up the last details of his report but wanted to know where he should bring it when he was done.  He promised that he would hurry with the report to the commander when it was done.

With this additional information, we were able to develop a plan.  Both Spring and I quickly hit on the same plan, with minor variations:  if we delivered an “arcane document” to the commander at the same time as we reported to the dragon that the commander was keeping it a secret, we might be able to maneuver them into outright conflict.  Even if they kept their cool, it would almost certainly draw the dragon to the same area as the glabrezou commander, which would allow us to destroy both with a single dose of the bone water dust.  Sergeant Cilorean approved the plan and ordered us to execute it.

I quickly constructed a document that would seem, at first glance, to contain magical writings.  I mixed languages freely, using Common, Infernal, and Abyssal words, and recorded everything in a cipher that would require work to deconstruct before the actual text could be understood, without concealing the diagrams that I drew to suggest extraplanar magic.  I carefully drafted it to appear to involve advanced magic, without actually including anything of actual value.  In the hands of a mage with skills equal to or superior to my own, it would not take long to conclude that it was gibberish.  But to a cursory examination, or to a novice or a well-informed individual without true magical training, it would appear to be an unusual, possibly important magical text.

Spring tucked the text under his arm and descended from the _rope trick_, planning on sending a goblyn whose acquaintance he had made to speak with the dragon while he brought the text to the glabrezou.  The commander had other ideas, however.  As Spring dropped out of the _rope trick_, one of the trueborn awaited him.

We all listened carefully as the trueborn informed Spring that he had orders from the general to escort Spring directly to the command pavilion.  Spring tried to talk his way out of it, saying that he needed to take care of something first, but the trueborn was insistent.  We gestured for Spring to go with the trueborn relying on the fact that the trueborn was focusing on Spring while Spring looked at us.  And so, reluctantly, Spring accompanied the trueborn, without having delivered news of his bait to the dragon.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jul 14, 2007)

Sergeant Cilorean and I discussed how we might best deliver the message to the dragon.  It would be unduly dangerous for either of us to deliver the message directly-- that might reveal the entire subterfuge.  I considered sending one of my summoned creatures, but they would return to Lord Paranswarm’s Hells too quickly, before they could accomplish their task.  Finally, we settled on sending a message via one of the free-willed undead, although not a powerful one.  I would approach one in a _shroud of undeath_, using the scroll that I had been equipped with to assist in our infiltration.  If I could, I would simply persuade the undead to deliver the message.  If that failed, I would use _command undead_ on one of the mindless undead, who cannot resist that spell, and deliver the message that way.

I approached a ghoul, which fawned and gibbered disgustingly as I addressed it.  I informed the foul creature that “our masters” among the higher undead had discovered useful intelligence that we believed could gain the favor of the dragon.  I handed the ghoul a note--very carefully, to avoid any risk of paralysis and the discovery that would bring--and instructed it to deliver the note to the dragon.  The note stated simply, in both Common and Abyssal to be sure the message would be understood, “Powerful arcane writings have been brought to the demonic commander.  He does not intend to share the writings with you, despite your greater mastery of the arcane.”

I returned to the _rope trick_ and therefore have to rely on Spring’s subsequent reports and conjecture for what happened next.  When we were safely reunited, Spring reported that he was escorted directly to the command tent.  The commander himself, a glabrezou referred to as “General Asbog,” questioned Spring about the intelligence he had gained in infiltrating forces on the other side of the Shadowline.  The commander apparently spoke disparagingly of independent freelancers and asked Spring who hired him.  When Spring said he did not know her name, the general described a marilith.  Spring agreed that was the demon who recruited him, and General Asbog used some choice expletives to describe her, making it clear that she was his predecessor.  General Asbog also asked who Spring served, and Spring responded that he was a minion of Lord Bastion.  Finally, Spring reached the point of his subterfuge and gave the general the document we had prepared.  He told the glabrezou that it was taken from a Hastur mage-psion, and that it was likely very important.

General Asbog then dictated a letter, although to whom Spring could not determine, stating that his forces had recovered a magical text of some importance and that it should be deciphered by specialists in Caldefor City.  With the message prepared, General Asbog told Spring to lead him to Spring’s associates so that he could interrogate all of us.  The General left a vrock he referred to as colonel in charge, although he mentioned to Spring as they left the command tent that placing a vrock in a position of command is an act of last resort, but he simply had no other appropriate minions.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jul 21, 2007)

I can verify the next series of events.  The glabrezou and Spring left the command tent.  Spring led them on a circuitous route through the camp, never approaching the _rope trick_.  He also used his incorporeal nature to lead the glabrezou literally through some of the troops.  General Asbog quickly eliminated the troops that showed insufficient alacrity in making way for him.  As they traveled through the camp, the dragon--a black dragon roughly the size of the one we saw a great bronze destroy--winged out of her cave, with the black eum flying behind her with a staff in its hands.  [When the dragon received the message, she refused to touch it, because it had been held by a ghoul, but she had a goblyn servant read it for her.  She was greatly angered by it, but thanked the ghoul for the great service it had rendered and “rewarded” it as best she could:  with a _fireball_ that ended its accursed existence.  She then gathered up the eum, who referred to her as “aunt” and asked if a confrontation was wise, but reluctantly accompanied her, and headed out to discuss matters with the glabrezou.]

The dragon greeted the glabrezou, although somewhat imperiously.  His response was most aggressive:  I believe his exact words were, “Get out of the way, you crazy old witch.  I’m on my way to do something.”

She then responded in kind, insulting the general and accusing him of breaking the chain of command and trying to keep arcane spell books away from her.  Their posturing and insulting continued for some time, until finally the dragon marched up to General Asbog and slapped him across the face, drawing a fair amount of blood.  Spring flew directly upwards in response to this, getting as far away from the battle as he could as quickly as possible.  By this point, the vrock had emerged from the command tent, and four took to the air, while two remained on the ground.

With a horrified expression on his face, the general called out, “You have seen this insult!  Will you allow a power of the Abyss to be insulted by this power of dirt?”  He then attacked the dragon with both claws, and the battle began in earnest.

Upon hearing General Asbog’s words, the vrock began dancing, forming their circle in the air and on the ground.  The rutterkin and other lesser demons began fleeing, seeking to get as far from the battle as they could.  Meanwhile, the eum, still flying, raised its staff, apparently planning on aiding the dragon, but one of the flying vrocks broke from the circle and pounced on the eum before it could unleash any magical power.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jul 27, 2007)

As the main combatants weakened, the army’s officers gathered to watch the battle.  They did not engage, on either side, but simply watched as the dragon and the demon tore into each other.  The human officers called their trueborn warriors into formation, still without any command to engage, while the goblyn encampment and the small tribe of trueborn women, children, and elders both fled.  Neither group stopped until they were safely on the far side of the surrounding hills, where even catastrophic results from the battle would be unlikely to reach them.

The eum witchdoctor managed to kill the vrock it was battling, but the remaining vrock completed their dance of ruin and unleashed a powerful burst of magical energy that hammered the witchdoctor and the dragon badly.  Still, the attack was too little, too late for General Asbog:  the dragon tore him to pieces, leaving only a bloody wreck on the ground.  Moments after the glabrezou fell, the vrock dove from the air and attacked the dragon on all sides.  By this point, even the colonel, the vrock that General Asbog had left in command at the headquarters, had emerged and approached the combat, although he simply tapped his swagger stick and watched instead of joining in.

The dragon killed one more vrock, but not before the other vrock killed the eum witchdoctor.  Finally, even the dragon could not withstand the combined force of their attacks and perished.

With both the dragon and General Asbog dead, the vrock colonel asserted his right to command, ordering the other vrock to settle down.  But while two of the remaining vrock landed and quietly waited, the other two continued flying, clearly insane.  When the colonel flew up to them to order them down again, they attacked him.  In a display of disloyalty that would have been shocking if it had not followed so many others, the two “sane” vrock simply watched while their superior officer battled for his life.  After an intense battle, the colonel killed both of the insane vrock.  They had been injured at the beginning of the fight, but he was also clearly mightier than the average.  Still, the fight had taken a fearful toll on him, and his victory was short-lived.  One of the two remaining vrock casually killed him as he landed.  They then began squawking at each other, flapping their wings, and thrusting their heads forward, clearly in a verbal struggle for dominance and command.  Their voices grew ever louder and shriller, until the inevitable physical confrontation began.

At this, the eum and trueborn officers gathered in council, while their presumptive commanders battled to the death.  After a short discussion, they each returned to their respective units.  They gave a short command, and the troops unleashed their steel javelins at the battling vrock, cutting them down.  It was the only display of discipline that we had seen.  Indeed, the entire sordid scene was a remarkable demonstration of how desperately Caldefor needs the restoration of Lord Paranswarm’s Order.  But with their inability to even maintain an army in camp without destroying themselves, our victory would be assured even if Lord Paranswarm’s backing did not make it inevitable.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Aug 10, 2007)

Here's a double-length post to make up for last Saturday's missed post.

* * *
The survivors embodied chaos less than the demons had, and it appeared that the internecine struggle had ended.  With the core combat troops all gathered tightly around where the battle had been fought, however, the circumstances were perfect for the bone water dust.  Spring opened one vial and poured an ounce of the substance down on the eum and trueborn armies, while Sergeant Cilorean used his control over the air to disperse the dust and spread it over the entirety of their armies.  As the dust touched the trueborn and the eum, they writhed in agony while all of the moisture in their bodies wicked away.  Even though they deserved all that was done to them and I hope they will experience even greater punishment in Lord Paranswarm’s Hell, it was terrible to behold.  The dust also consumed the zombies and other undead with flesh--an unexpected side benefit, as we had not thought that it would affect any of the undead.  By the time the dust finished its work, only the skeletons and the handful of incorporeal undead remained.

The two wraiths who appeared to command the undead--now perhaps the only officers left in the entire army--discussed what they had seen.  They agreed that they could not risk spreading the dust beyond this field, as the punishment that would be visited upon them would be unbearable.  And all of the skeletons were contaminated.  Their very bones glowed with the dust that glistened on them.  The wraiths resolutely ordered the skeletons to line up in tight formations and then ordered each skeleton to smash its neighbor.  When only a handful of skeletons remained, the wraiths ordered them to gather into a new formation and repeated the process.  Soon only shattered bones and glowing dust remained.

The wraiths then discussed their next step.  Their duty was to report to their superiors, but the lords of Shadow would likely hold them responsible for the debacle we had engineered.  They concluded that going rogue offered better prospects, and once more the disorder of the enemy advanced our cause.  With the only surviving parts of the true army fleeing, our attack would not be reported to the enemy high command until a routine patrol visited the dragonhold--and even then, if the patrol was sufficiently incautious, the bone water dust might claim yet more of the enemy.

Spring immediately flew down to scout out the dragon caves themselves.  If the hoards were uncontaminated, they would be well worth recovering.  Additionally, several of the caves contained clutches of dragon eggs that could, with proper training, be used to make powerful forces for the liberation of Caldefor.  Spring returned to the rope trick a few minutes later and reported that two of the six hoards escaped contamination from the bone water dust.  Unfortunately, the wyrm’s hoard had been contaminated--it will be another twenty years before the dust has decayed sufficiently to allow us to recover the treasure of the wealthiest of the dragons that laired at the dragonhold.  The hoard of the scholar dragon who died fighting General Asbog had also been exposed to the dust; since her most valuable assets were books and scrolls that crumbled in response to the dust, her treasure was permanently lost.  Still, depriving the Shadow of those assets was more important than recovering them for the resistance.

Spring hauled the _rope trick_ slowly across the devastated army camp, finally moving it into the dragon caves.  [The DM permitted us to move the _rope trick_ even when we told him that the rules don’t really allow that.  This was just as well, because otherwise Konrad would have been doomed if any of the dust had drifted to the area directly beneath the _rope trick_.]  A small handful of guards and servants, divided between trueborn and goblyns, remained alive inside the caverns, but we were easily able to cow them into cooperation.  We loaded the treasure into the _rope trick_-- a total of 9710 silver pieces, gems worth about 3770 silver, and, most importantly, a collection of magic items.  We only identified a few at the time, but we later concluded that the items were a mask of the skull, which Sergeant Cilorean took to augment his offensive capabilities; a ring of invisibility, which the Sergeant assigned to me; wands of bear’s endurance and find secret doors; a scroll with arcane sight, rage, and heroism inscribed on it; and a collection of potions, including oil of magic weapon and potions of pass without trace and shield of faith [+2].

We also decided to take the best of the trueborn guards with us; we searched them for intelligence, using my detect thoughts spell, and took the best five with us.  They were sufficiently impressed by our power that we could expect them to be reasonably obedient, although they would need to be watched carefully until they had been fully endarkened.  It would take time to make them as orderly as Lord Paranswarm commands.  The remainder would die horribly, either starving to death or entering dust contaminated areas, but there was nothing we could do about that--there was only so much room in our _rope trick_, and we had no other way to transport them out.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Aug 18, 2007)

Having secured the treasure, we discussed our next step.  We all agreed that we should take control of the tribe of trueborn dependants.  If we did not, they would almost certainly be destroyed by the various dangers that now infest our land.  Without any significant combat-worthy guards, it was unlikely to be difficult to bring them into loyal service to Caldefor and Lord Paranswarm.  There was some discussion of whether we should take them as slaves, which seemed most natural to me as they were captured forces of the enemy, or whether we should rule over them without enslaving them, as Spring advocated.  I believe that Spring’s own experience as a former slave makes it difficult for him to understand that slavery is part of Paranswarm’s Order for the world.  I tried suggesting that many of them would likely be able to earn their freedom, as he had, but Spring was unpersuaded.  Sergeant Cilorean did not settle the discussion, and we ultimately left the matter undecided.  There would be time enough to sort out the details of their legal status later.

Spring raised the possibility that we should strike again immediately, heading to another dragonhold before word of our attack spread.  At the same time, we had to weigh that against the need to move the tribe of trueborn, the dragon eggs, and the treasure across the Shadowline to where they would be safe.  Since we were only a few days south of the border and no alert would reach the other dragonholds from this army, Sergeant Cilorean decided that we would head straight north for the Shadowline.  After we had crossed safely and reported, we could head back into Caldefor and strike again.  As long as we worked quickly, we would be able to make our second attack before they were alert to our tactics.

The trueborn tribe quickly accepted our dominion.  Spring flew over them, commanding them to obedience, while I cast minor magics to impress them even further.  Within moments of our accosting them, they had fallen to their knees and were groveling before us.  It would be difficult to find a truer demonstration of Lord Paranswarm’s natural order for the world:  it is the nature of all things to seek order, with the weak obeying the orders and receiving the protection of the strong.  That a group as small as we were could control and protect them only increased their respect for us.  We examined the tribe and found that there were about five-hundred trueborn left in the tribe, almost all women and children but with a handful of elderly men as well.  They traveled remarkably lightly, and though they were emaciated and clearly starving, they still could travel at a reasonable pace, although not as rapidly as we could have traveled without them.  Their scant food supply had been destroyed by the bone water dust--the warriors kept most of the food, and they clung to the army in the hope that the demons would be willing to feed them enough to survive.  Of course, only I travel with rations, as my companions are past the need to eat, and while I had brought enough that I had ten days of rations left, that was a pitiful amount of food for five-hundred.  After discussing the matter with Sergeant Cilorean, I kept one day’s worth of rations, because I would not be able to remain effective on less than half-rations, and distributed the other nine days worth among the tribe.  It was a pitiful amount of food, but they seemed grateful and able to stretch that much more than I would have imagined possible.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Aug 25, 2007)

We traveled north for the rest of the day.  While the trueborn slowed us and made us much more visible, they pressed hard to keep our pace.  I think Sergeant Cilorean was pleased by how far we had managed to travel before the unending shadows and gray clouds of day gave way to night and travel would be too dangerous.  The sergeant and Durak maintained continuous patrols during the night, since they also had no need to sleep, while both Spring and I needed rest to recover our spells.  We agreed that I would sleep first, and then wake for the last watch, while he would sleep.  We also posted a handful of promising young trueborn--children of about 10 or 11 who seemed alert and sensible--as pickets.  The trueborn were obedient and cooperative.  I approached a couple of the most attractive of the women about sharing my camp with me, and they were eager to become the servants and concubines of a subchief, as they seemed to view me.  I will need to consult a priest when I can to be certain that taking on lovers outside orderly matrimony is not a sin, but I do not think it is.  Lord Paranswarm teaches that those who rule are entitled to the benefits of their lesser, and while I am but a common mage relative to the free people of Caldefor, the trueborn are right to view me as a subchief under the command of Sergeant Cilorean, who is now effectively their chieftain or master.  But I must confess that I might have indulged even if it were a sin.

Shortly after I fell off to sleep, one of my concubines woke me.  She looked very apprehensive, although I am not certain why--perhaps she was worried about the threat that had been spotted.  One of our pickets, a boy of about 10, stood nearby, and when I asked him why he had awakened me, he said that he had seen two great metal spirits.  He reported the spirits to Spring, who had said that he had power over metal and had flown from the camp to observe the spirits personally.  As the boy, who I later learned was named Bonepicker, described this, he made it clear that he thought Spring’s actions were foolishness.  I asked him to describe the spirits in more detail, and he said that one was a great serpent with thousands of segments, while the other was a huge puma, and that both had a long line of glowing orange crystals along their backs.  I told Bonepicker to accompany me and began leading him to Sergeant Cilorean, because this matter needed to be reported to the Sergeant at once.

Bonepicker said that the spirits must have spotted our camp and would surely destroy Spring and then attack us, because the metal spirits hate all the servants of the Shadow.  At that I grabbed Bonepicker and forced him to his knees.  I informed him that he now served Lord Paranswarm and would never be a creature of Shadow again.  I think I frightened him greatly with this, but it was worthwhile, because he accepted his endarkening as I made the sign of the downward arrow over him.  Once that matter was taken care of, I told him to return to his feet so we could continue to Sergeant Cilorean.  The boy followed, a little shaken but still obedient.  He added that the metal spirits were fully charged, because all of their crystals glowed, so they must have a charging station nearby.  At that, I finally realized what they must be.  Metal constructs with orange power crystals that hate the Shadow could only be constructs of the Orange Mage.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Sep 1, 2007)

I passed on Bonepicker’s report to Sergeant Cilorean, as well as my conclusion that the constructs were servitors of the Orange Mage.  The Sergeant stated that he would approach them and inform them that we remain loyal to Lord Paranswarm.  I asked what we should do if the Orange Mage’s constructs had gone insane, as their master did, or did not believe him, and attacked him anyway.  He said that we should flee, so with his permission I had the entire tribe roused and prepared for flight.  Gratifyingly, the tribe was ready to run within a minute of my passing the command.  I promised that if he fell I would see to it that the tribe safely reached the Shadowline.

Sergeant Cilorean and Spring later reported their conversation with the metal spirits.  When Sergeant Cilorean informed them that we served Lord Paranswarm, they switched from the language they had been using--Celestial, from what I can gather--and addressed them in Common.  The puma apologized; it had been trying to persuade the serpent that they should attack and kill us all, assuming that we had to be forces of Shadow.  They were very pleased to learn that there were still others who fought to restore Caldefor, and they offered to bring us the “human charging packets” that they had at the charging station.  A little additional questioning confirmed that they meant a supply of preserved food intended for human servants of the Orange Mage.  However, they refused to show us where the charging station was-- what we did not know we could not reveal, even if captured and tortured.  Sergeant Cilorean agreed that was prudent.  In all, they supplied us with about 500 daily rations worth of food-- enough to put our entire tribe on half-rations.  Sergeant Cilorean and Spring also informed them that the Orange Mage still lived, on the far side of the Shadowline, although they omitted the fact that he is still insane.  His constructs were greatly relieved to hear that and agreed to send several of the worker automata with us.  Without the Orange Mage or one of his skilled apprentices, the automata would inevitably break down, so sending them across to the Orange Mage would allow them to best serve the fight against Shadow.

Meanwhile, I had cast _detect thoughts_ to measure the strength of Bonepicker’s mind, because he had seemed intelligent.  His mind was remarkably strong--roughly at the same level as my own.  When Sergeant Cilorean and Spring returned, I asked the sergeant for permission to train Bonepicker as an apprentice.  I would not be able to teach him the skills and arts of diabolism until he has been examined, approved, and licensed as an apprentice diabolist by the SHH and the Holy Church, but I could begin teaching him the general principles of magic that all wizards must know, which would lay an effective foundation for if and when he is approved.  [It didn’t occur to Konrad that between training by a diabolist and watching Konrad’s casting, Bonepicker would surely pick up some of the basics of diabolism without any formal training.]  The Sergeant authorized his training, and I informed Bonepicker that he was now my apprentice.  I directed him to sleep at a place on the outskirts of my personal camp and replaced him in the guard pickets with one of the other youths in the tribe.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Sep 8, 2007)

With the metal spirits dealt with, I returned to sleep.  At the end of his watch, Spring woke me.  I took over his station at a makeshift command post in the center of the tribe, while Sergeant Cilorean and Durak patrolled around the edge of our camp.  A few hours before dawn, one of the pickets came running into camp, screaming “Bone ooze!  Bone ooze!”  We would later learn that she was the second picket to see the bone ooze, but the first had died horribly, engulfed by the ooze without even the opportunity to scream first.

Bone oozes are a freakish effect of a confluence of a large number of bodies or skeletons and substantial abyssal energy.  Under some circumstances, the abyssal energy will infuse the skeletal matter, turning it into a mindless but destructive undead ooze.  Bone oozes seek out life, consuming it when they find it and adding the additional bones and flesh to their form.  Occasionally, a sufficiently large ooze will split, but otherwise they just keep growing and destroying.  Only the most powerful can hope to defeat a bone ooze in battle, but bone oozes move slowly.  Under most circumstances, an alert group can easily escape a bone ooze by simply running.

 I sent Bonepicker to inform Sergeant Cilorean and to request permission for me to attempt to deal with the ooze.  He granted permission while he readied the camp to flee, and I approached the ooze.  I cast _command undead_ and willed the ooze to stop.  The ooze stopped moving, remaining completely still in obedience to my command.  Mindless undead cannot resist that spell, and while the bone ooze was powerful, it was also mindless.

I ordered the ooze to remain in place and returned to the camp to report to Sergeant Cilorean.  He asked how long the ooze would remain under my control, and I informed him that my control would last for four days, but that I could renew it before it failed.  As we were perhaps a day from the border to Tarkenia, we could destroy the ooze before my control of it failed.  Sergeant Cilorean instructed me to send the bone ooze ahead of us to clear our path. It traveled more slowly than the tribe could, but we could give it a lead by starting it moving before the break of day, and the ooze would not tire or need to rest.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Sep 16, 2007)

A few hours later, just before the dim dawning of a new day, we roused the tribe.  We had them all gather and form into lines so we could distribute food in an orderly manner.  We also informed them that the food was a result of Lord Paranswarm’s bounty.  The trueborn all genuflected and swore their devotion to us and Lord Paranswarm.  I believe that the events of the night had strengthened our control over them.  They viewed both the bone ooze and the constructs of the Orange Mage as enormously dangerous.  By dealing with them--and in each case only sending one or two of our number to deal with them--we established that we were enormously powerful.  They will need to be carefully watched to ensure that they remain orthodox in their devotion to the Lord of Darkness, but for now, I believe that they have accepted his dominion over their souls.

We proceeded on in the second day of our journey back to exile in Tarkenia.  We wished to move quickly, since the hope was to reach the Shadowline before nightfall.  Our hope was that the bone ooze would clear a path for us, allowing us to travel without interruptions.  By midmorning, however, one of the pickets that we had sent walking ahead of our main body came running back towards us.  He hurried to Sergeant Cilorean, clearly having figured out who our leader was, and gave a quick report.  Spring and I had hurried over in time to hear what he said.  He reported that a small group of “braxats” was approaching, along with a chaos warrior.  None of us recognized the term “braxat,” and Spring asked for a description.  The boy described goat-centaurs, although he did not use that term.  The Sergeant ordered us to change course, in an effort to avoid them.  It would delay our trip to the Shadowline, but avoiding combat was essential if possible.  However, after only a few minutes on our new course, another of the pickets ran back in and said that the braxats had changed direction as well.  They were probably faster than even the four of us, and they could certainly outrun the trueborn, so we had no choice but to meet them.  The Sergeant called the four of us forward--if it came to battle, we would need to be positioned to defend the tribe.

As they approached, we saw that there were three braxats:  a herald, who unfurled a white banner emblazoned with a black sun that had a laughing face, though the cruelest laughing face I have ever seen; a guard; and the Chaos Champion itself, a third braxat, somewhat larger than the others and with equipment and armor appropriate to its rank and power.  The Champion had an additional laughing mouth in the middle of his torso, although at the distance I could not see if that was an insignia on his armor or an actual part of his chaos-twisted body.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Sep 22, 2007)

The herald blasted a fanfare and then proclaimed, “The Chaos Champion Delorian of Tamara of the Quenching Flame!”

The Champion smiled.  “Isn’t it funny when he does things like that?  Doesn’t it make me sound like a pretentious jackass instead of a goat?”

We all paused, unsure of how to respond.  I had heard of Champion Delorian; like all of the chaos champions, he was a great threat and a powerful servant of Shadow, but he also was known for having a sense of humor.  I laughed nervously, hoping that he had intended that as a joke.  As we forced light laughter, the Champion began guffawing.  He clearly thought that it was uproariously funny.

“I saw you marching forward, and I thought to myself, ‘self, those trueborn march to their destruction.’  And I considered letting you go past, or perhaps even watching your end, but I decided that I would ask you:  why do you follow a path that can only end in your deaths?”

“What do you mean?” asked the sergeant.

“You head into the path of the Lord of the Host of Dust.”

I do not know if any of my companions knew who that was, but I did not.  The Sergeant continued as if he did.  “The Lord of the Host of Dust?  What is he doing in these parts?”

The Champion explained that the baron, though an idiot, has called for the Lord, asking him to scour his lands for elves that had been seen.  I took the references to the baron to refer to Lord Bastion, but for obvious reasons we could not confirm that.  If we asked questions that made us seem out of place, the Champion might realize that we were loyal to the true Caldefor.  The Champion went on to explain that references to elves are the best way to manipulate the Lord of the Host of Dust, and that the baron is concerned, but does not want his master to be concerned.  The Champion cautioned us that the Lord of the Host of Dust would destroy us if we continued forward.  He also asked why we were on this route.

The sergeant thanked him and explained that we had been sent to infiltrate on the other side of the Shadowline.

The Champion looked over the trueborn with us.  His skepticism was obvious.  “Ah, then you have been sent to throw your lives away.  I know, I know.  Who are we to question the commands of whatever member of the Council had this brilliant idea?  Still, I hope that some of you survive, and that you can have your revenge upon them when you return.”

We agreed that that was the way of things, but what choice did we have?


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Oct 1, 2007)

Sorry this post is late.  But on with the story:

* * * * 

At this point the Champion began threatening the tribe in a new way.  He said, “I am but a simple chaos champion.  A simple, *lusty* chaos champion.”  And he began looking over the tribe lasciviously, before crooking his finger at two of the trueborn women.

I was uncertain how we would respond, but Sergeant Cilorean cleared his throat.  “Those are part of my contingent.”

“Are they your women?”

“Yes,” replied the Sergeant, although I do not think he meant that in the same way as the Champion had.

“Then perhaps there are those who are not…”

The Sergeant tried a slightly different tactic.  “I need all of my people.”

“I would not take any of your people away.  I just wish their use for a short time…  And I might leave a gift.”

“Your gift might interfere with our mission.”

Chaos Champion Delorian scowled at that.  “I suppose they might.  One of my spawn might draw attention, interfere with your infiltration.  I will not ask who among the Council had that bright idea… Oh, very well.”  He then shook a finger at Sergeant Cilorean.  “But you will owe me two when you return.  Two sun-kissed wenches… I’ve never had a sun-kissed wench.”

The Sergeant readily agreed, knowing that we could not be bound by any promises to the servants of Shadow.  The trueborn women were most relieved as we gestured to them to return to the body of the tribe.  With that resolved, the braxats bounded off.

Sergeant Cilorean decided that we would cut east for some miles, and then turn north again.  As the Lord of the Host of Dust was traveling west, that would, with luck, allow us to avoid him entirely.  With the Sergeant’s permission, I put on the ring of invisibility and headed directly north, after the bone ooze; if we could alter its course as well, we could still use it to deal with any threats that remained between us and the Shadowline.  Spring accompanied me, in case we encountered trouble.  He flew high above, where he could scout and assist but would be able to avoid engaging any threats.

After a short journey, we saw the crater and wreckage that was all that remained of the bone ooze.  It had apparently reached the Lord of the Host of Dust before we reached it, and it did not appear to have been much of a threat to him.  We also saw what we presumed to be the Lord of the Host of Dust’s entourage.  Two elves, both with the house insignia cut off their uniforms, stood at the edge of the remnants of the ooze discussing it.  They were both pale-skinned, implying that they were either elves or Noldar rather than the drow that are more commonly encountered in service to the Shadow.  I assume they must be renegades to have cut off their house-insignia.  The elves had a carriage with them, also without any distinctive markings and drawn by a team of four nightmares.  In addition to the two elves, we saw a handful of human and other servants.  Spring also reported seeing two wolf-headed humanoids in the carriage, also with uniforms that had holes on them where insignia had been cut off.  I did not observe the humanoids directly.

The elves were deep in discussion; we gathered that they were trying to decide whether to continue westward, or whether to investigate where the bone ooze had come from and whether someone was behind it.  Spring and I carefully remained hidden at a substantial distance.  After the discussion, they entered the carriage.  The coachman snapped his whip, and the nightmares pulled it swiftly on, without turning aside from its westward path.  With that, we returned to the tribe and reported to Sergeant Cilorean.  I must admit that I am very glad that they did not choose to investigate, because I have my doubts about both our ability to evade them and our likelihood of surviving if they found us--especially because the Sergeant is an elf, or at least the remnant of an elf.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Oct 6, 2007)

We proceeded onwards, turning from an easterly direction back to north after a few hours of travel.  Sometime after noon, a horned demon appeared directly in front of Sergeant Cilorean.  The demon asked if this was the Sergeant’s herd and complimented him on it after the Sergeant said that it was.  It then said that it hoped that the Sergeant was impregnating plenty of them, on the ground that that would produce better results than if they were allowed to impregnate themselves, in which case they produce more of the same.  The Sergeant simply replied that that was not his mission.  After a short conversation, the demon disappeared.  I hope that someday Lord Paranswarm will grant me sufficient power that I will be able to destroy such creatures whenever we encounter them, but for now we had to be contented with having escaped without conflict.

We continued marching.  With the delay of the detour, it was not at all certain that we would reach the Shadowline by nightfall.  But even before the sky darkened from the bleak gray to a darker shadow, we had another strange experience.  A boy, perhaps thirteen in age, flew over our tribe on a bright orange carpet.  Even more remarkable than that, however, were his eyes, which were completely orange and glowed with a light of their own.  He addressed us, confirming that we were “the sergeant, the magus, and the flighty lord they thought their power word would destroy.”

When we assented, the boy explained that he was one of the Orange Mage’s apprentices, before the invasion.  He had been delivering messages for the Orange Mage when Caldefor actually fell.  Since he would have been about six at the time, I suspect the Orange Mage arranged for the boy to be busy outside of Caldefor to keep him safe.  The boy explained that after Caldefor fell, he crossed back across the Shadowline to help the defense, before retreating to one of the charging stations, where he helps the automata resist and keeps them in repair.

He wanted to know if we were planning on invading, and we informed him that we had already begun the invasion that will liberate Caldefor from the Shadow and bring it back into Orderly Darkness.  He was pleased to hear this and asked if we were planning on using the tunnels.

Spring said that we were, which surprised me, since this was the first I had heard of the tunnels.  He then said that we needed more information about the tunnels--where to enter them, where they exit, and so forth.  The boy said that he knew where they were and could tell us.  He described a large network of tunnels, with entrances on both sides of the Shadowline.  The network connects in three places with what he called the “underfoot”--I’m fairly certain he meant the Underdark--but that even without using the Underdark, the tunnels reach almost anywhere in Caldefor.  He described three major connections between the tunnels and the surface within Caldefor:  one under Caldefor City, one under the coastal dragonhold, and one in the mountains near the Palood, where the deeper Shadow lies.  He also said that there is a major entrance on the other side of the Shadowline, in Tarkenia, and many small entrances scattered about Caldefor, including at most of the charging stations. 

With some additional cajoling, we convinced him to accompany us back across the Shadowline.  Since he could use the power of the Orange and had important strategic information, he was too valuable a resource to risk by leaving in Caldefor at present.  His magic crafting abilities alone would make him tremendously valuable, but he also seemed to know secrets about Caldefor that few others had access to.

The Sergeant asked what the boy’s name was, and he said that he was Teller.  He had been Teller Smithson, but the Orange Mage told him when he began his apprenticeship that the Orange Pool would give him a new surname when next he needed one.  We welcomed him to our group and proceeded onwards.

Because of the delay from the detour, night fell before we could reach the Shadowline.  We briefly conferred, but concluded that the danger of another night in the Shadow outweighed the increased risks of traveling at night, and so Sergeant Cilorean gave the order to press on.  If anything, we tried to pick up the pace, with safety nearly at hand.  The trueborn were clearly exhausted and struggling to continue, but order comes naturally to them, and they did not complain or shirk their duty but obeyed without question.  After about four hours of hard night marching, we finally reached the Shadowline.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Oct 13, 2007)

The border had been fortified; a body of troops and two Hastur greeted us as we crossed.  The Hastur smiled to see us and told us that they had feared we would return the way the elven scouting party did.   Only their heads had returned at all, flung across the border, and their brains had been scooped out before the heads were returned.

One of the Hastur questioned the sergeant about the tribe and was most pleased to learn that we had brought a group of the oppressed people of Caldefor back into the Darkness.  They scanned over the tribe and concluded that approximately 400 of the 500 trueborn we had brought back bore the taint of Shadow.  They began preparations to put all of the tainted in skin so that the taint could be cleansed.  None of them were so badly tainted as to need destruction.  Unfortunately, both of my concubines and my apprentice were among those who would need cleansing, but at least their taint had not yet spread to me.  Spending three weeks or so in skin would not be a very effective way of serving Lord Paranswarm.  We organized the tribe and got it settled on the outskirts of the town that surrounds the Hastur tower.

I asked Sergeant Cilorean for permission to take one of the dragon eggs, as I thought that it could be used as part of an effective offer to bind the erinyes I had made contact with on our last expedition into the Shadow.  The Sergeant wisely told me to ask the Church, as we would turn all of the eggs over to the religious authorities.  The priests would certainly know how to raise the eggs to be loyal servants of Paranswarm, following in the wake of Vitrix-Henoxi, the great two-headed dragon saint.

Shortly after we returned to Tarkenia, we were honored by a most auspicious visitor.  Tarkenia serves Glor’diadel, Lord of Light, and the Holy Church of Lord Paranswarm is all but unknown in its lands.  However, there is a bishop of the Holy Church, nominally without portfolio, who serves as the ambassador from the Holy See to the Glor’diadelian lands of Zest’qua.  The understanding between the Holy See and the Glor’diadelian temple precludes him from engaging in proselytization efforts, but he can minister to the religious needs of the refugees who have fled our homeland.  My understanding is that when Caldefor has been liberated, he will automatically ascend to the office of Archbishop of Caldefor.  We had hoped that he might send someone from his household, but he honored us by coming himself.

We genuflected to him, and he permitted us to kiss his episcopal ring.  We described our efforts on behalf of the Lord of Darkness, and he said that he was most pleased.  He even offered to personally lead a mass for us and to confess our sins.  We presented the eggs to him, which also pleased him.  Sergeant Cilorean also brought up some matters of strategy, and the bishop promised to arrange for a strategist to discuss our thoughts so that our efforts might form part of a more comprehensive plan.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Oct 20, 2007)

After we had addressed the matters of overall importance, I presented my journals to him for review and stated that I hoped to bind an erinyes.  I asked for his permission to use one of the dragon eggs as part of an offering to the devil.  He readily gave his consent, after examining my license to make sure it was in order, and even agreed to a further request to draw the circle against evil that I would use to hold the erinyes.  While I could draw such a circle myself, his would be more powerful and more likely to bind her.  Unfortunately, no condemned prisoners would be available for sacrifice.  As he explained, the Glor’diadelians rarely even turn over prisoners to him to use for the great rituals on the holy days, and of course Lord Paranswarm would have first claim to appropriate sacrifices, long before any would be offered to a mere devil.  For an erinyes, however, animal sacrifices should be sufficient, and my license authorized animal sacrifices without additional dispensations.

The bishop decided that I would attempt the summoning after the mass.  We organized the entire tribe of trueborn to attend, and indeed to undergo a more formal endarkening so that they could fully participate in the mass.  His excellence assigned me penance for my failings, which I performed promptly--may Lord Paranswarm order my actions so that I do not fail so again.  I will say nothing more of such matters for fear of transgressing against the sanctity of the confessional seal.  We then took part in the mass.  It has been so rare to have any masses since the fall of our homeland.  To have a bishop celebrate mass for us was almost beyond imagining.  It served as a lesson that we should never doubt the ability of Lord Paranswarm’s Church to attend to the needs of His loyal followers.

After the mass, but before we attempted the summoning, the Sergeant, Spring, and I discussed artificing with Teller.  Teller happily agreed to make items of power for us, but he could not make a bag of holding, which was what Spring most wanted.  It is possible with Orange magic, but beyond his understanding.  He did agree to make a great war-wagon for us that would propel itself, although he would also make two automata disguised as nightmares, so that it would not be as obvious.  The work would be done of bronze and copper, and we agreed to purchase a forge for him to aid his efforts on behalf of the resistance.  Sergeant Cilorean also procured the crystal matrix from the Hastur that would power the cart.  Unfortunately, it would be some months before Teller could finish the construction.

The bishop and I carefully made our preparations for the summoning.  He carefully drew the circle, leaving a small gap to allow passage.  We set up the egg on an ornate stand in the circle.  I also carefully arranged the implements of coercion and laid out the candles in the appropriate patterns.  When all was ready, his excellence the bishop withdrew to a side of the room to observe.

I lit the candles, slit the throats of the black goats I had purchased for the purpose, and began chanting.  I could not actually call the erinyes, as that was beyond my power.  But I hoped that she would sense my effort and come of her own accord, and I prayed to the Lord of Orderly Darkness for his assistance in that matter.  As I chanted and reached the height of the ceremony, the lady appeared.

A dome of perfect darkness appeared in the room and then vanished, revealing the erinyes standing there.  To be certain, his excellence and I compared her features to those most typically described in accounts of erinyes, and the match was perfect:  she was a beautiful, tall woman, with small horns on her forehead and black wings covered in fine feathers.  Her magical rope coiled around her left arm, ready to be flung to entangle her enemies.  His excellence gave a short nod, confirming that I could bind her.  She looked at me imperiously.  “You wished to see me?”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Oct 27, 2007)

I flattened myself on the ground, genuflecting to her.  “Thank you for deigning to answer the call of one such as myself, great lady.  I wish to offer you the lives of these goats as a gift and in thanks for your presence, with no strings or commitments asked.”

She smiled, reached out her hands, and drained the fading life energy of all of the goats.  “It is a worthy gift.”

“Thank you, your ladyship.  I now wish to offer you a deal.  I have come into possession of a black dragon egg, with some months to go but nearing hatching.  I offer it to you for a price.”  I gestured at the egg.

Greed and desire flashed across her face, followed by suspicion.  “What do you wish in return?”

“Knowledge of your true name, and an agreement that you will view and treat me as an ally and will not seek to harm me or gain revenge for this or any other deal or negotiation we may enter into.”

She thought for a moment.  “That might be acceptable.  Shall I prepare an appropriate contract?”

“My lady, I have already drawn one up.”  I drew forth a carefully prepared vellum contract, with the terms clearly stated.  This was a standard early contract when neither party wished to enter into true servitude, so I was quite confident that it would accomplish its goals.  I knew better than to allow a devil to draft a contract, except under the most desperate of circumstances.

She carefully read over the contract, double-checking the most important clauses.  She paused, considering it, then looked at the egg again, and nodded.  “Very well.”  I passed her a silver-tipped quill, which she used to draw blood from her arm to sign the contract.  She passed it back to me, and I signed and sealed it.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Nov 3, 2007)

“And your true name, my lady?”

“I am Alveera.”  As she said that, I checked and saw that that was the name that she had signed the contract with, as was proper.  “And now, ally, may I claim the egg you promised?”

“You may.”  I gestured to the stand.

She quickly hurried over to the egg and placed her hands on it, rubbing its sides and feeling the power within.  While she was distracted, I stepped behind her and with a few quick strokes added her name to the circle and closed it, trapping her within.

She spun, anger but perhaps also amusement flashing on her face.  One hand remained on the egg.  “What is this?”

I stood up fully and faced her with as much confidence as I could muster.  “We negotiated for the egg.  Now we will negotiate a deal for your release from the circle.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you force me to take more direct measures.”  I pulled aside the velvet covering I had placed over the scourges, firestone, silver dagger, and similar implements.  “You should remember that you were not conjured here but came under your own power.  Even though we are not on your plane, you can lose much if your form here is damaged, and you will not return to your plane unharmed when the time on a summoning runs out.  And you are still bound by our prior agreement, and can take no revenge for this negotiation.”

She inclined her head slightly, thoughtfully.  “So… you have made preparations for this and are willing to make this hard.”

“Indeed, but I have no desire to, if you agree to my terms.”

“Perhaps.  What terms do you offer?”

“You agree to be bound to my service.”  I drew forth the gold summoning ring that the bishop had procured for me at my request and brandished it at her.  “You swear to serve me, loyally and without reservation, now and forever.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Nov 11, 2007)

“Forever?  But…”  That clearly surprised and dismayed Alveera.  I think she considered appealing to my compassion, or pointing out that I could only threaten a short period of torment, but I looked at the implements as if to pick one out, and she chose a different tack.  “Surely you would not need my service forever.  You are a mortal--a powerful mortal, destined for great things,” she flattered, “but mortal nonetheless.  Surely you will have no need of my services after you die.  A term of service-- for your life, or perhaps a century if you prefer a fixed term--would provide you with all the service you could benefit from.”

“Perhaps, but you assume that I will die and be unable to benefit from further services.  What if I become a being like yourself?  It is possible.  And then I would want your service in Hell.  But if I die, I will no longer be able to command you, and you will be able to act as if you were not bound to my will.”  I neglected to mention that I would command her to serve other loyal Paranswarmians after my death.

“So it would be much the same as being bound for the length of your life…  unless you become like me.”  [There was much laughter in Malancet’s court in the Abyss at that.  They had made the succubus appear as much like an erinyes as possible to lure Konrad into her trap, but the thought that she would lead him to become a fellow demon was delicious indeed.  A few even bet on the matter, much as they had previously bet on the terms that the succubus would pretend to accept.  The abyssal bookmakers thought it much more likely that Konrad would join them as a lost soul for torment than as an equal.]  “That might be acceptable.  But if you were to bind me into that ring, you would destroy the value of the egg you traded me.  How am I to gain its worth if I cannot raise the dragon hatchling and train it to serve me?  I cannot bring an egg with me into that ring.  Do you seek to void our previous contract?”

“Never.  We can bind you to the ring, instead of into it.  It will be a symbol of your servitude, and a means to call you, rather than a prison.  Besides, I wish you to raise the dragon, just as I wish you to gain power over other devils and similar servants.  By serving you, they will make you more powerful.  And since you will serve me, that will make them my indirect servants, just as binding you to my service makes you indirectly serve Lord Paranswarm’s will.”

“So I could continue to dwell on my lands on my home plane, except when you call me to your service?”

“Indeed.  You could continue in all ways as before, except that I would have the power to call you to direct service and you would always be bound to act consistently with your service and to serve my interests.”

“What of my other commitments?  I will lose much power if I must break off all ties…”

“You may continue to serve your hierarchy except as that is inconsistent with serving me.  I believe that is a standard arrangement for devils who have been bound.”

The erinyes thought about the offer for a while further.  She looked at me, appraisingly I think, looked back at the implements, and finally gave a short nod.  “I agree to your terms.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Nov 17, 2007)

I proffered the second contract I had prepared in advance.  She read it carefully, but the contract was short and clear, binding her to serve my will completely.  She was reluctant, but finally drew blood again and signed her name on this contract as well.  The ring I wore grew hot as she finished signing and the gold took on a slightly reddish tinge.

With that, I had bound my first devil to service, and with much more favorable terms than I had ever expected.  I had expected her to negotiate on the length of service and would have agreed if pushed to service for a term of years.  I also would have agreed to a more restricted servitude, but she had agreed to everything.

There are few ways to test an agreement that you have written.  Most of the techniques for testing whether a devil has been bound serve to verify the nature of the contract when the devil has drawn it up.  When the diabolist has drafted the contract, there should be no doubt, at least assuming the diabolist’s competence.  Still, I had my doubts.  She had agreed with so little resistance--a little negotiating, but not even insisting that I alter the contract itself, and without even any torment.

I instructed her to lower her resistance to a spell and cast _detect thoughts_.  I had a clear read on her mind and asked her what her opinion of me was.  Her thoughts, or at least her surface thoughts, were dominated by surprise at my audacity, although she also found me impressive and attractive, to the point of wondering whether she could draw my interest, despite my concubines.  I sensed no reservations or secret hatred.  While my spell was only a minor one and could not allow me to read beneath the surface thoughts, it was sufficient to resolve my doubts.

I spoke with his excellence the bishop, who congratulated me on my success and agreed that all appeared to be in order.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Nov 24, 2007)

At that point, I realized a last detail that I had not attended to with the binding.  I hope that Lord Paranswarm will forgive me for being lax on this point, but I sought to make amends as soon as I realized it.

I turned back to Alveera.  “Are you bound to the service of Lord Paranswarm, either directly or through your infernal hierarchy?”

“No, master, except as I serve him through you.”  As she said that, she thought, <<I don’t think anyone in my hierarchy has ever served Paranswarm.>>

“Yet now you serve me, and I loyally serve the Lord of Orderly Darkness.  You must serve Him directly as well.  Kneel.  His excellence will perform the ceremony to endarken you.  I command you to cooperate.”

Alveera was obviously afraid of this command and remained standing.  “But… my superiors will be most wroth with me for this.”  As she said that, she thought, <<I’ll never be able to go home.  They will take my lands and power…>>

“I ordered you to kneel, slave!”  I held forth the binding ring, and she reluctantly dropped to her knees.  I could hear her thoughts running desperately as she tried to think of some way to avoid being bound to Lord Paranswarm.  “You are bound to me.  Why should your superiors object to an additional binding?”

“Bindings to mortals are expected.  It is the nature of things.  But to agree to serve a power within the infernal hierarchy who is not part of my hierarchy… they will view that as a betrayal of the worst kind.”

“Be that as it may, to serve me, you must also serve Paranswarm.”  I prepared to go through with the next binding ritual but then stopped.  “And yet… it may not be worthwhile to draw the anger of the archdevil that you serve in Hell.  I will have to think of this.  Remain here.”

“How could I leave, master?” she asked, gesturing at the binding circle.

“Nonetheless, I command you not to leave even if the circle is broken.”

His excellence and I went for a walk--imagine that, me getting the honor of accompanying a bishop!  I arranged for our route to take us onto the ground he had sanctified for the Mass.  I explained that I did not want to discuss it where her superiors might have been scrying on us, but that I had recalled a way in which we could bind the erinyes to serve Paranswarm without any others knowing.  The bishop agreed and authorized a subterfuge.  And so I returned, informed Alveera that I would not require her to swear loyalty to Lord Paranswarm, and then released her from the circle, all for the benefit of any scrying superiors of hers.

After the next mass, I called her to me while I remained on holy ground.  His excellence rapidly ran through the ritual, anointing her with oil and holy water and then healing the resulting wounds so there would be no physical sign, and I sent her on a meaningless errand-- the ostensible reason for calling her.  She was still somewhat horrified by being bound to Lord Paranswarm, but His will is much more important than ours, let alone hers.  Moreover, the binding was secret-- none would know of it but me, her, and the Church, so she should not lose power in the Hells, nor draw the anger of her superiors towards me.  I cannot be certain that we successfully kept it secret, but I believe so.

With that accomplished, I returned to my studies and found that my power was greatly increased.  Truly, binding my first devil was a watershed moment for me.  For the first time, I had access to spells of the third circle, no doubt because of her magical aid.  [Konrad thus demonstrates the classic logical fallacy of post hoc, ergo propter hoc--because A happens after B, it must have happened because of B.  In fact, he received no bonus XP for binding a demon--he just happened to bind it immediately before hitting fifth level anyway.]

[End Session 3]


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Dec 1, 2007)

[Session 4]

On the 5th of O-Tar:
After the day I spent binding Alveera, our group met to plan our next strike.  I was surprised that neither the Temple nor the rightful government of the Count in exile gave us specific orders, but they must have their reasons.  In addition to myself, the group included Duranic, the strange siblings Buzz and Spring, our kobold companion Twang, and a newcomer, Sideh.  Sideh is a Tarkenian follower of Glor’diadel, not of the Lord of Orderly Darkness.  Indeed, he is even a member of a religious and knightly order, the Order of the Shield of Light.  But while he is among the heathen, he appears to be dedicated to fighting the Shadow and bringing Caldefor back into Orderly Darkness.

We discussed several possible next targets.  While we had been involved in the destruction of two of the dragonholds, three remained.  Striking at one of the remaining dragonholds, ideally before they have had a chance to truly increase their guard, would offer a major victory.  In particular, if we could defeat the forces of Dragonhold Ripgut and defeat Lord Bastion, a vampire noble who betrayed Caldefor during the Grand Count’s apostasy, we would be in a position to permanently liberate a portion of Caldefor along the coastline.  That possibility also raised a second possible target:  rather than striking against Dragonhold Ripgut, we could launch an attack on Lord Bastion’s manor.  Finally, there was some discussion of conducting further operations near the fallen Hastur towers at the far south of Caldefor, hoping to capitalize on the recently restored area surrounding the tower from which we rescued the matrix.  After some discussion, we agreed that we would begin with an attempted strike at Ripgut, to be followed rapidly by an attack on Lord Bastion. 

We pooled the knowledge we had and consulted with the minions of the Hastur to learn more of Ripgut’s defenses.  The five dragonholds were not of equivalent strength.  All were strong, but Blackgleam, the dragonhold destroyed in the bronze dragon’s deathflight, was the weakest.  Ripgut could be expected to be substantially more heavily defended.  At one point the Trodheim, the oldest and most powerful of the doyles, was stationed at Dragonhold Ripgut, but the Hastur informed us that it was recently drawn back.  The doyles are the great worms of negative energy and destruction that serve the accursed Borsh’tro, may he and all his minions be delivered to Lord Paranswarm’s righteous punishment.  The Hastur reported that the Trodheim was drawn back south to the mountains, beyond the historic borders of Caldefor, to guard the doyle young. They told us that that was because of a major event recently involving the doyles, but the Hastur either knew no details or did not see fit to inform us.  Nonetheless, the assumption can be made that Dragonhold Ripgut is one of the more powerful dragonholds, possibly the most powerful besides Talonstrike, which has always been acknowledged as the strongest.  

We asked the Hastur what forces besides the Trodheim were stationed at Ripgut.  They stated that the most powerful defender would be Ripgut himself, the elder dragon in charge of the dragonhold.  Each dragonhold is named after a great elder black dragon.  However, Ripgut might not be present at any given moment.  Rumor also placed a dracolich at the dragonhold.  There are always eum at the dragonholds, of course, and there are sometimes demons, although more often if there is an attack plan.  

The description of Ripgut himself gave us an idea.  Ripgut does his own hunting and thus ranges further from his dragonhold than many of the other great dragons.  Indeed, he favors hunting human-raised food, such as cows and horses, and has been know to cross into the Borderlands from time to time.  The Hastur always respond to cross-border incursions, of course, but have never yet arrived in time to dispatch Ripgut.

Based on this information, we form a plan to lure him to attack great, blessed steer.  We could position a great black steer, ostensibly blessed by Lord Paranswarm with great size and vigor, and lure him to attack.  Ripgut is one of the least intelligent of the great dragons, having survived on raw brute power.  He is unlikely to be able to resist such bait.  There is the danger that his advisors will intervene-- the Hastur could not say for certain who he relies on, but the dracolich is a likely possibility.  Nonetheless, he is likely to believe that a quick raid will go unnoticed.  But if we are prepared, that will allow us to hammer him when he crosses the border.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Dec 8, 2007)

Our first thought was to acquire local cattle, from the villages that support the Hastur towers.  However, Sideh, who has some knowledge of agriculture and animal husbandry, informed us that this would be impracticable.  The towers are at the worst lands of the Borderlands, from a perspective of crops, at the edges of the Shadow where Borsh’tro’s foul influence already blights the land.  To find the best steers, we would need to travel deeper into the inlands of Tarkenia, into the lands that bear allegiance to the local nobles and the Sultan.  

After we finished developing our plan and received the commitment of the Hastur to play their role in it, we headed north to buy a herd of cattle.  Our trip was uneventful.  We met some small-time merchants but had no interest in their wares, nor they in our purposes.  

Once we reached the prime grazing land of Tarkenia, Sideh suggested the right people to talk to about buying cattle.  Though he knew who the right ranchers to speak with were, he seemed to doubt his negotiating skills at first.  I viewed it as obvious that Alveera would be able to negotiate the best possible price for us, so I rotated my ring and summoned her. 

I am not certain how to interpret Sideh’s reaction.  He startled and then stared at her with an odd look to his face.  Perhaps he was overwhelmed by her beauty?  After a moment, however, he asked her, “How are you at negotiating?”

Alveera’s response was perhaps predictable.  “I’ve negotiated with many men.  In almost every case, I have given them their heart’s desire, in exchange for my heart’s desire.”

“Is your heart’s desire fat cows?”

She turned to me at that question.  “Master, is your heart’s desire fat cows?”

I thought for a moment.  It does not do to give a bound devil a careless answer, lest they twist it against you.  Alveera’s contract forbids such treachery, of course, but nonetheless, care is always essential in diabolism.  “Currently, yes.”

“Then that is my heart’s desire.”  She smiled at Sideh.

Our new companion surprised me again by deciding that he would, after all, conduct the negotiations personally.  I do not understand why he made that decision.  Perhaps, as he is a priest, he feared that she would lead his coreligionists towards the Darkness?  If so, then I should have reassured him that I would never breach the agreement the Holy Church entered into to not proselytize in establishmentarian Glor’diadelian realms.  Someday, of course, they will all be endarkened, but as long as the Holy Church tells us that now is not the time, we must simply wait and spread the Darkness in the lands that are loyal to Lord Paranswarm or that serve none of the Ecumenical Alliance’s gods.  Whatever his reasons, we all deferred to his expertise and understanding of local trade norms, and I dismissed Alveera.

Sideh quickly arranged for the purchase of forty cattle, including eight steers.  The steers were large, fat, and well-fed-- while I have no expertise in such matters, they seemed quite extraordinary compared to the animals near the Shadowline.  We arranged to travel with them back to the area near Circle Waterside and arranged for the Trueborn we had endarkened to take care of them.  With that, the preparations for our trap were prepared.

We would position the cattle near the border, with the most magnificent steer prominent among them.  A group of people disguised as scouts would bring news of these cattle to Ripgut-- a role that our detachment would take care of personally.  Ripgut would almost certainly attack the steer, but to prevent him from flying off, the Trueborn would prepare the finest bull by making it eat an immovable rod.  Ripgut would eventually overwhelm the rod’s magic or simply rip the steer off it, but with any luck the effort would slow him down enough to keep him from winging away.  A dimensional lock or the equivalent from the Hastur would foreclose magical escape.  Meanwhile, the Hastur Tower Guard would attack the dragon, to keep him pinned, to harry him, and to net him to further prevent escape.  And then the Hastur themselves, ready for battle and waiting for Ripgut, would finish the dragon with needfire and their psionic devices.  They assured us that they would be ready, and that while they rarely plan subterfuge themselves, they were happy to play their role in our plan.  With their enormous power, against anything except an all-out assault, success would be assured.   With all our plans prepared, we set out for Dragonhold Ripgut on the 7th of O-Tar.  As the Dragonhold is about 100 miles south of the border, we instructed them to be prepared for Ripgut’s raid between 5 and 10 days after our departure.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Dec 31, 2007)

Apologies for the posting delay.  A combination of busy times at work, holidays, and poor net access at my parents' house caused me to miss some posts.  I should be back on schedule for the foreseeable future.

----

After crossing the Shadowline, we passed through the dust clouds that blow continuously across Caldefor and made our way to the tunnel entrance of which we knew.  We entered the tunnel.  A few of the periodic translucent globes still glowed with an orange light, but most were long dead.  The working globes were infrequent enough that we had no choice but to use my lantern.  After three days of travel through the tunnels, we emerged-- still some distance from the dragonhold but much closer than we had been.  The Shadow was darker, both visibly and in more metaphoric ways, now that we were several days from the border.

We passed some few Shadow creatures, but at first everything ignored us.  Our disguises were sufficient that we looked like we belonged.  Finally, as we approached the dragonhold, to the end of the second day of travel beyond the tunnel, something noticed us.  There was very little movement there, presumably because the dragon kills nearly anything that moves close to its hold.  Suddenly, we were surrounded by giant scorpions, giant soliphugids (camel spiders), and giant spiders-- many of them, ranging from the size of dogs to twelve feet tall.  There were about two dozen of them over all, and they seemed to be just pushing past us.

Spring flew directly up and saw someone who was a beautiful woman from the waist up and a scorpion below that.  She was some two-hundred yards away, in the midst of a stream of more insects and scorpions.  We all recognized her strange form as clearly the effect of too much exposure to Shadow, with the taint mutating her, but none of us recognized her specifically.  Spring also noted that she had a beautiful matched set of war-fans, and spiders crawling through her hair.  

Spring returned to the ground, reported, and with a quick spell rendered Buzz invisible.  I also went invisible, using my ring, and Sideh hid, though not particularly well.

The Shadow woman crested the dust dune ahead of us.  Spring settled back to earth, more or less in front of her, and she leapt back onto the top of the dust dune.  Despite her corrupted form, she moved very gracefully.  She snapped both war-fans into the open position, with some sort of metal webbing linking the sharpened spines.  

I have tried to recreate their conversation accurately, although I cannot swear to every word of it.

Spring spoke placatingly. “I mean you no harm.” 

“Ultimately, we all seek to harm one another, but I’ll take you at your word.”

Spring shrugs.  “I guess that is right, but in this specific meeting I mean you no harm.”

“What zouuvt do you serve?”

Based on my training in demonology, I knew that the zouuvt are demons that raise undead.

“I was killed on the front line and continued to serve.”

“Of course.  Your loyalty to Lord Borsh’tro drove you to continue to serve.”

“What route do you follow?”

“I go to patrol the border.  To wait for the one who challenged my master in his own city.”  Her anger was obvious.  At a further inquiry from Spring, she projected an image of Lankman, the peculiar dwarf we met before our recent expedition to Circle Greenfield.  “He has stolen from my master.  Goods and slaves, who he has taken to the service of the Light.  He is imperious-- he will return.”

Twang interjected, “Who do you serve?”

“My master.”

“And who is that?”

“The Caldefor of Caldefor.  You do not remember me?”

“I am not from here.  Are you?”

“I am.  I am the Marchioness of Uight.”

“Is that part of Caldefor?”

“It is.  It was beautiful farmland.”  The Marchioness appeared slightly disturbed as she said that, as if at some level she still understood the damage she had inflicted on her fief, but she quickly suppressed the response.

There was some whispered discussion about whether we should take a more active approach to the Marchioness.  Some thought that she could be brought back to Orderly Darkness, while another suggested that we could take her prisoner.  Still, without our sergeant present to decide on what we should do, we took no clear action.

Spring asked, “Do the dragons look for this dwarf as well?”

“They do.  Greatclaw in particular looks for him.  The dwarf mated with one of his shes-- one of its mates, in the harem.  Greatclaw seeks revenge for this, as I seek revenge for my master.”

“Why not pursue him directly, then?  Do you not fear his escape?”

“It has been revealed in a divination that he will return soon.  I will not pass the border.  Except for the greatest of us, the pain from crossing the border is very great, and the alarm that would be set off would cause us to be eradicated.”

Twang asked, “What if you could cross without setting off an alarm?”  I still worry about the kobold sometimes.  How can we be sure that he has fully renounced chaos?  Still, I am ordered to serve with him and must not question those orders.

“If that could be guaranteed, there would be no border to cross.”

We exchanged some further pleasantries, and the fallen Marchioness moved on, continuing towards her patrol position.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jan 5, 2008)

The following day, we entered  the area immediately around the dragonhold.  We noted many undead, and small groups of black eums marching in tight military groups, armed with bronze weapons.  They paid us no attention at all.  A few of them looked us over, but after one glance at the undead with us, they ignored us.  We continued marching in to the dragonhold.  About mid-day, we approached the fortification.

This dragonhold was more massive and more heavily developed than Dragonhold Clawfast had been.  The hold itself was built of huge stones, many cemented in place, with battlements, an enormous gate, desultory groups of slaves, and small groups of black eums here and there.  They also had some preparations for defensive alerts, including a gong system to alert the keep during an attack.  In addition to the more usual creatures of chaos, Sideh spotted a group of things that at first glance he takes to be rills, simple little waves in the dust, but one of them moved directly against the wind.  He pointed them out, and we all stared carefully, eventually identifying three total and agreeing that they were clearly acting as entities, not natural phenomena.  Our best estimate was that they were small corrupted elementals-- more likely a sign that the dimensional walls are starting to break down, rather than actual servants of the dragon.  We carefully planned a route to avoid them.  By the time we circumvented them, it is clear that the eum patrols also avoid them.

As we approached the fortification, we noticed another difference from Dragonhold Clawfast.  There were no masses of weak creatures:  a few goblyns, but not any meaningful number, and no trueborn or pureblood at all.  In fact, the undead may be the most significant armed force, with orders of magnitude more than at other dragonholds.  Many of the undead were intelligent; they seemed to assume that Spring was a specter, and they deferred to his precedence.  Out of the army of undead as a whole, we identified mostly skeletons, greater skeletons, and monster skeletons, with a small number of specters.  There were regrettably few zombies, ghouls, or other flesh-based undead, rendering our bonewater dust largely useless.

We also saw a small band of lamia, with a priestess wearing a headdress and led by a huge woman on a large horse, heading off to the northwest.  This could only be a chaos champion and her warband-- more than we could likely handle, and in any event not part of our objective.  We found an area sheltered by a small hill, mostly out of view, and huddled to plan.

[End Session 4]

Since this is a short post, here's a bonus sidebar on eums:


> Eums are called the “common castings of chaos.”  When the Six joined Borsh’tro, they said that they needed servants.  Borsh’tro is not good at creating, but he is very good at changing, so he took captured people and changed them into eums.  Borsh’tro created one color for each of the Council of Six.  The black eums were created from half-dragons that were children of Gnnnst.  But while the first eums were created from captives, once they were changed, they could breed true.  Eums are designed for Shadow-- they need very little outside nourishment.  The six types are:  Orange, called “vein-slitters,” who follow Kartholuna; Green, “soul-flayers,” Borugud; Brown, “blood-sprayers,” Tamara; Yellow, “those who creep below,” the Worm who Bores Beneath; and Black, “howling bounders,” Gnnnst.  The vast majority of all eums are Chaotic Evil.  In addition to the six major types, they also have periodic mutations.  As a result, there are different variants, both individual mutants and entire bloodlines that are distinct from their overall type.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jan 12, 2008)

[Session 5]

12 O-Tar:
We examined the gong system in more detail.  It was a fairly straightforward alarm design.  In all likelihood, if any one point raised the alarm and began beating their gong, the others would pick up the warning to raise the alarm throughout the dragonhold.  We could see three such posts on our side of the fortress, and we inferred that there were probably more on the other side.  

Spring levitated directly vertically to get a better angle on the fortifications.  After he returned, he reported a central command post, surrounded by skeletal beings that had once been people.  One of the skeletal warriors had a horn-- rather pointlessly in light of its lack of lungs or lips.  But while that detail seemed rather pointless, it was part of a general pattern of preparation and organization.  Indeed, our consensus was that the defenses were better organized than any other dragonhold we had seen or heard of.  Based on what we had heard before crossing the border, I presumed the dracolich had instituted the better organization.

We split into two teams.  Twang and Spring were to head into the fortification with the mission of planting the information about the steer, spreading various misinformation, and gathering information about possible faultlines within the enemy that we could exploit.  For our part, Sideh and I were to scout around outside further, trying to see what we could find out by eavesdropping on the enemy.  [Buzz missed this session, so she was not included.]

While I do not have direct information on Twang and Spring’s efforts, I have recorded what they reported doing, seeing, and hearing.  They rushed towards the fortification from our position-- not charging it, but moving openly and with haste.  The eum appeared interested but refrained from investigating, likely for fear of angering Spring.  Twang and Spring approached the entrance on the side of the dragonhold facing us, more or less on the west of the structure.

An incorporeal, floating undead moved to block their path.  “Hold.  What brings you in such haste, cousins?”

“Urgent news for Ripgut,” replied Spring.  “Signs of interesting food.”

“Pass through the first portal.  You will be instructed there.”

They hurried on and were met by a black eum in beaten armor who waited at the portal.  “You bring news?”

“Yes.  There is beautiful, luscious cow.  It is located by the line.  We were able to retrieve two of them, but they did not make it back.”

“Hmmm.  You bring this news for Lord Ripgut.”

“Yes.  We thought he would be interested.”

“What is your name?”

Twang gave his true name, but Spring said that he was called Doc.

The black eum nodded thoughtfully.  “Yes, Lord Ripgut will wish to know of this.”

“Shall we inform him where it is, then?”  pressed Spring.

The black eum laughed, a coarse grunting sound.  “It is fascinating the impulses that survive death.  Greed survives.  Hope survives.  Love survives.  But what, one wonders, would the dead do with such things?”

Twang showed a toothy smile.  “If it makes any difference, I’m not quite dead.”

“You could have fooled me.  Very well.  If you wish to report this directly to Lord Ripgut, in the hopes of some pittance, pass beyond the seneschal dracolich and report there.”

Spring and Twang proceeded into the keep proper, but without any idea where the dracolich might be.  Virtually everything they saw ignored them.  They counted dozens of undead, some even more incorporeal than Spring.  Most of the incorporeal undead were shadows, though once in a while they passed something else.  Here and there, a small group of black eum marched or stood guard.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jan 26, 2008)

Meanwhile, Sideh sneaked up on a group of black eums, while I lurked invisibly nearby to support him.  We overheard conversation among the eums, but it was just meaningless chatter as far as I could tell.  They spoke Shadowspeak-- I could understand a little because of my training in Abyssal, but not all of the details.  We easily figured out the eums’ organization.  Their principal unit appeared to be squads of six eums led by what we referred to as a corporal.  There were definitely also sergeant equivalents, commanding multiple squads, and at least one rank above that.  The eums performed a regular patrol of their area, but there was something odd about their methodology.  We concluded that they were more concerned with watching for other creatures of Shadow than with forces of the true Darkness or of the Light.  In particular, the eums seemed somewhat scared of the incorporeal undead, although they ignored the skeletons.

After observing the patrols for a while, we carefully followed one of the “lieutenants,” by which I mean the eum ranked above the sergeants, to see where it would go.  Once every half-hour, a runner would take a report from each sergeant up to a more grizzled and senior eum.  I carefully copied its rank insignia in my notebook.  After several such reports, the lieutenant entered a spiral stair just inside the gates on the south of the fortress and trotted up the stairs.  While it was much more difficult to continue to shadow it as it entered the fortification, we continued following.

The eum came to attention as it reached the top of a tower.  “All is quiet, commander.  We see no sign of either the Marchioness or of the Chaos Champion coming from the south.”

“Excellent, lieutenant.  We should be particularly careful with the Chaos Champion from the South.  She is aligned with Maliat.  Those who are still on this side of life need to worry about the followers of Maliat.”

“Yes, Commander Zolt.”

“Return to your duties but be watchful.  Our lord is most wroth.  You should avoid him as his anger may spill out onto such as us.”

The lieutenant saluted and proceeded back down the stairs.  As he returned to his post, we withdrew to discuss what we had heard and to await our allies.  Sideh and I recognized the name of Maliat, mistress of postulating disease.  As the Church has long known, her champions  spread diseases on the battlefield that kill the people they are fighting.  The disease cannot spread far beyond the battlefield as plagues because of the Compact, but even if her champions lose their battles, they may still kill their foes.  I of course do not credit the rumor that even clerical cure disease is not reliable against her diseases.  Perhaps the blessings of lesser deities are insufficient, but surely the priests of Lord Paranswarm, and the healers devoted to his Holy Daughter the Weeping Woman, are more than capable of curing any disease.  Nonetheless, I had never heard reports that even the enemies fear her champions.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Feb 2, 2008)

As Spring and Twang proceeded, they encountered great stairs going up and down.  Without any definitive way to tell which direction was correct, they headed down a somewhat broken staircase for a considerable distance before arriving at a bottom landing.  A few guards gave them a cursory inspection but did not question them, and they passed into the lower level.

Below ground, a great many more of the people were alive than dead, although there were some dead, here and there.  Faced with a choice of traveling east, north, or south, Spring and Twang went roughly towards the east, with Spring trying to form a mental map of where they were.  Twang later reported that the east smelled damper than any of the other directions.  After several hundred yards, they emerged into a large room.  A substantial number of black eums and some undead stood, or in some cases floated, at the side of the room they entered on, while a small group of figures, each about 4 feet tall with gray skin and dressed in matched armor, stood across the way by stairs elegantly carved out of the rock and leading down.  A eum hand reached out as they entered and grabbed Twang.  “Now don’t be going out there and be queering anything.”

At that command, Twang and Spring stopped and watched what was apparently a delivery of barrels and crates.  The gray figures looked something like dwarves, but gray and with scragglier beards.  There was discussion, clearly about business, although in a language that they could neither understand nor recognize.  An officer on the side of the dragonhold held forth a bag of loot, apparently as payment.  The eum handed over the bag of old jewelry and ancient coins.  With that, the gray-skinned dwarves carefully ported the barrels and crates into the center of the room.  It was not obvious what they contained-- the barrels did not slosh, as they would if they were filled with ale or wine, and they were plain barrels, sealed with wax.  

In due course, both sides tipped their hats, and the gray-skinned dwarves departed.  The heavily armed ones remained in place until the others were gone, and the heavy doors crashed shut as soon as they had departed.

Twang turned to the eums and asked, in the kobold language, “What is going on here?”

The lead eum officer simply tipped his hat and wished Twang good day, so Spring stepped forward and translated Twang’s question.

“Mushrooms, fresh from the Underdark.  They make fine eating.”

Spring raised an eyebrow.  “I didn’t know that there was Underdark around here.”

“There is Underdark everywhere, is there not?  But that is just a small passage to a minor kingdom, I believe.”

Spring indicated understanding and then continued, “We have an urgent message for Ripgut’s seneschal.”

“You have gone far astray.”

“We are tired from our long voyage.  We have news from the Shadowline.”

“News from the Shadowline?”  From the sudden change in tone and attitude, they could tell that the officer viewed that as of the highest importance, and made them worthy of his actual attention rather than bored smalltalk.  “Head back seven crossings; there is a hidden stair on the right.  Ascend it to the main level.  Take the spiral stair up to the high level.  The seneschal is there.”

“Are we permitted to take the hidden stairs?”

“They are hidden only by disuse.  Those stairs are unstable, but you do not seem heavy.  That route will take you to Lord Dracul.”

Spring and Twang followed those directions, though they thought the stairs were not so much hidden as obscured by a partially collapsed wall.  Twang’s weight posed no risk, but they could see that regular use by eums or other heavier individuals could lead to a full collapse.  At the top of the stairs, they went north to a great stair and further up to a large receiving area, where a group of things received people at tables.  Most were eums, but one was a magnificent half-dragon and another was undead, clearly the dracolich’s seneschal.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Feb 9, 2008)

For the dialogue that follows, I have transcribed it as if the report from Twang and Spring was verbatim.  I rather doubt that it was, but I do not see any better way to record all of the information they provided me as accurately as possible.

Twang approached the seneschal and saluted.  “Big news!  Food!”

“Cows!” interjected Spring.

“Large cows.  Cows.  Many cows.  North.  At Shadowline.”  At that point, Twang lapsed into the kobold language.  Spring translated and explained that there were many beautiful cows just north of the Shadowline.  They bought two from not particularly discriminating merchants and brought them back, intending them as a gift for Ripgut, but they were eaten by the Marchioness when she met them on the way back to the Dragonhold.

The undead nodded thoughtfully.  He was skeletal, but dressed in a robe and clearly intelligent. “You were lucky to escape with your lives, loyal servants.  The Marchioness marches to her own drum and that of the Count of Caldefor.  Anything is possible with the Marchioness.  She is an angry and powerful woman.  You have done well.  What are your names?”

Twang gave his actual name, while Spring identified himself as “Dack.”

“I shall mention the word to my master, Lord Dracol.  How many did you lose raiding?”

“Ten,” said Twang.

“We were the lucky ones.”

Twang pointed at Spring and muttered, “Coward.”

The seneschal’s skull looked back and forth between them-- without any skin on the skull, they could not read its expression.  “You will be rewarded.  The next captives that are brought back, you may choose one.”  It passed its hand over a sheet of copper.  Two words appeared on it; they were clearly in Shadow, and neither Spring nor Twang recognized them.  They each tried to memorize the strange characters-- Spring failed at both, but Twang was able to memorize his own name.

“What should we do about the unruly forces of the Marchioness?” asked Spring.

“The forces of the Marchioness will not respond to us.  If my lord chooses to do something about it, it will have to be something involving force.  However, word has reached us that our cousin in Dragonhold Blackgleam has been eradicated by an ancient and dying wyrm.  It will be months before another of the horde of the blessed Gnnnst can move forward to reestablish the hold, and the methods are such that it will be two or three years before the hold is fully reestablished.  And so our great lord has ordered us to maintain our forces and resist using force as is natural to bolster support.”  The undead paused.  “Your lord and master prefers to keep a certain involvement in the procurement of food.  He may wish to visit this market himself.”

Spring tried another tack.  “Should his greatness be concerned about the Champion’s sparring?  I don’t know if you should call it sparring-- it was a one-sided fight.  Outside with some of the guard.”

“One of the Marchioness’s people sparred with a guard?”

“The Chaos Champion, with the lion things.”

“Ah, you speak of the Chaos Champion Liliana, accompanied with her lamia.  She is our own, and within the Master’s favor.  She takes liberties, but she has received many blessings from the Council.  Best to avoid her when she is in a playful mood.  She has left for some days.  She was sent on a mission.

“She is going to reconnoiter.  There are rumors that a large quantity of clingfire was used on Blackgleam.  That may imply that the Light is moving.  Liliana was once of the light, and when she turned to the Shadow, the Council blessed her greatly.  The lamias will be sent in as decoys, and then she will pass the Shadowline and blend in.  We will know if an army is being massed for an attack.  Liliana and one or two of her chosen will conceal themselves in the countryside and begin to investigate.”

Spring smiled eagerly.  “I hope they do attack.  Our master will be ready.”

“I like the way you think.  It is unfortunate that you are stuck in such a lowly form.  If you continue to do such wonderful work, perhaps Lord Drakhl will summon one of his allies from the Abyss and elevate you to a higher state.”  With that, the skeletal undead turned and headed off to report.  It approached a wall at the back of the table.  The wall shimmered-- almost a grayish white-- and then it passed through.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Feb 16, 2008)

Spring looked around at the other people in the room and checked out their record keeping.  They noted that the magnificent half-dragon had not taken its eyes off them since they left the seneschal’s desk.  In due course, he sent a young slave, dressed in nothing but a grey breachcloth, over to them.  “Lord Varlin demands your attention.”

Lord Varlin was a blue-black humanoid-- half-dragon, half-something else, though Spring and Twang were not certain what.

They gave their names.

“What did you report to Lord Drakhl’s seneschal?

“Big food.  At market across Shadowline.  Lord Ripgut might be interested.”

“My father will be interested,” Lord Varlin replied definitively.

“You hungry, too?” asked Twang

“My father does not take me on such things.  He says it would be too easy for me to be contaminated.”

“Contaminated?  Big man like you?”

“My blood is the result of a moment’s passion.  My father never forgave himself for his lack of control.  He fears that if I were exposed to the Light, it might draw me to it.”  A sense of regret colored his statements.  “Did you have other news to report?”

“We were almost killed by Liliana.”

“She is insane.”

“Is she loyal?” asked Spring.

“My father likes her.  It is not my place to question his judgment.  But she kills more of our people than the enemy does.”

“Will the seneschal keep information from Lord Ripgut?”

“Lord Drakhl will do as Lord Drakhl wishes.  I have no use for him.  He is dead-- not that I hold that against him, but he is mean about it.  Tell me more of your trip to the Shadowline.”

Spring and Twang talked more about crossing the Shadowline.  Lord Varlin seemed envious, having heard of the light and warmth, and the availability of food everywhere, without bartering from the Abyss or trading with dwarves.  Spring and Twang encouraged him to visit the lands beyond the Shadowline himself.  

He opened a bag and handed them each a substantial strip of well-preserved, probably smoked, meat.  “Thank you.  I will hope to speak with you again.”

Twang pushed further.  “If you ever do wish to see the Shadowline, we have been there many time.  We could show you the way.  We are humble servants.”

“You would do this thing?”

“We are but slaves.”

“Where can I find you?”

“We are often sent on missions far and wide by our many superiors.”

He thought and then took out two round stone discs about two inches across, each with runes inscribed.  “When my father next goes out, I will seek you out.  These discs will allow me to find you.”

“Can we know where you are?”

“I am here daily.  But I would not wish to waste time.  When he departs, I will seek you out.   And I will make very certain that you are not eaten.”

Twang and Spring departed and rejoined us.  They stowed the stone discs in a nearby crevice near our hiding place.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Feb 23, 2008)

Based on their description, I had drawn several fairly clear conclusions.  Lord Varlin was almost certainly half-celestial-- probably Glor’diadelian celestial, although that was less clear.  His celestial blood would make it easier to lure him away from the Shadow.  Sideh informed us that Lord Varlin would know Celestial, as part of his blood.  The stones would be locator discs.  Lord Varlin could always know exactly where they are if he concentrates on them.  We considered whether the discs could compromise our security, but they would only work for him.  The potential gain would likely be worth the risk.

I also recognized the description of the seneschal as matching that of a lich-spawn-- a type of undead formed from sorcerers or wizards not powerful enough to become a lich but who were favored servants of Borsh’tro.  Lich-spawn are not exactly liches but are like less powerful versions.  Regrettably, we did not learn its name.

Twang also wrote out his name as the lich-spawn seneschal had written it.  I recognized the writing immediately as Abyssal.

As we waited for nightfall, we discussed the possibility of leading Lord Varlin back to the Shadowline and away from the service of the Shadow.  I saw a possible opportunity to gain a powerful new minion for Lord Paranswarm.  I reached out telepathically for Alveera and immediately sensed her through the ring.  I began by telling her that if we were to travel with Lord Varlin, I would need her to lead him to Lord Paranswarm’s Darkness.  She assured me that she would be able to assist greatly in that.  I explained Lord Varlin’s nature, and she became most interested in the mission.  As a precaution, given the tendencies of erinyes, I instructed her that if it became relevant, she could capture his seed but not carry it without my further orders.  She confirmed her understanding and stated that she would be most interested in his seed.

The shadows slowly darkened, as the dull gray sky turned towards a sickly black-- not the true black of Lord Paranswarm’s darkness, but the darker matte black of the ever-cloudy skies of the Shadowlands.  I asked Alveera, still telepathically, if she would be able to sneak into the fortress and begin luring Lord Varlin to serve the true Darkness.  She assured me that she would, and that she had tricks, including _invisibility_  to prevent them from realizing that they had a devil in their midst.  Knowing that my companions would be suspicious and might oppose an effort to bring Lord Varlin to the Orderly Darkness, I instructed her to obey my mental commands, rather than the verbal commands I would shortly give her.

I suggested to my companions that Alveera might be able to gain additional information by infiltrating and summoned her into physical presence.  I told her to infiltrate the fortress, gaining as much information as possible, and to begin leading Lord Varlin to the Light of Glor’diadel.  I immediately silently countermanded the last portion of that order, and instructed her to bring him to the Darkness instead.  She said, “Yes, my master,” in response to my verbal command, and then telepathically sent back the same confirmation in response to my correction.  I may still need to do penance for pretending to aid the proselytization of a different temple, but I never took any actions that could actually aid their efforts.  I was confident that my orders would be obeyed.

[A few quick dice rolls were made to determine the likelihood of Alveera’s success.  Lord Varlin turned out to be bisexual, but basically completely uninterested in sex. (Orientation 9, Lust 1), thus frustrating Konrad’s effort to ensure that the half-dragon would end up serving Paranswarm.]


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Mar 1, 2008)

Most of the way through the night-- four in the morning or so, by my estimation-- we woke to the thunder of wings as a huge form flew to the North.  We quickly recovered the stones to be ready if Lord Varlin came to us.  Shortly later, a figure, trying to be stealthy but failing, approached.  Spring and Twang greeted him, while Sideh and I lurked farther back.

He had donned beautiful armor that allows his wings to be free.  “Ah, Dack and Twang.  My father has departed, going after some bounty of cows.”

“Cows?  Them’s good eating,” replied Spring.

“Normally, he raids the line, and then spends days near the line.  That was how he captured my mother.”  Lord Varlin paused as if in thought.  “I don’t remember her much.  After I finished nursing, my father consumed her.”

Sideh and I stepped forward and introduced ourselves, although of course we did not reveal our true allegiance.

Lord Varlin responded, “I do not recognize your subgrouping, but it is an honor to meet you.  If you are companions of these men, then you are welcome.  But we should leave the camp while it is still dark.”

I bowed and said, “With your permission, Lord Varlin, there is another that should join us.”  With that, I summoned Alveera back to my side.

Lord Varlin discussed his father’s fondness for succubi, which is what he incorrectly assumed Alveera to be.  From his tone and his uneasy manner, it was clear that he distrusted succubi and would carefully avoid proximity to Alveera-- an unfortunate pattern that would make my efforts more difficult.

Several of us noted that the armor he wore was the best quality we had seen in Shadow.  I compliment him on it.

He seemed pleased by the praise and stated that he had wrought it himself and had an odd knack for crafting things.

That raised several interesting possibilities-- perhaps he was not of Glor’diadelian descent after all.  At least three of the celestial pantheons have orders that create things.  The celestials of Dain the Forger are the most obvious possibility, but the celestials of Eru include a subgroup that work in precious metals and high glass; those celestials are among the greatest crafters anywhere.  And it did not rule out Glor’diadelian descent, as there is also an order of his celestials who are dedicated crafters.  Descent from a celestial of Eru seemed most likely, as he had some elven features-- thin, pointed ears, no beard, and fine skin-- but then, that could all be dragon influence.

Before we departed, Alveera also silently reported the results of her scouting.  The roster consisted of six regiments of black eums commanded by a number of more powerful eums.  Each regiment contained one hundred eums.  There were also 400 skeletal undead and 50 incorporeal undead in the general garrison.  The garrison numbers did not count the immediate court -- Lord Ripgut, the black dragon wyrm; Lord Drakhl, his dracolich seneschal; and their personal households.  In addition to the military forces, the Dragonhold held about 500 slaves
-- mostly goblyns and eums of other colors.

As we traveled, Sideh began his efforts on behalf of Glor’diadel.  He approached Lord Varlin and said, “I hear that you speak a foreign language of the Light?”

“It has always been with me,” replied the half-celestial.

“I have writings that I took from the land of Tarkenia.  Perhaps you could read them?”

Lord Varlin read through the writings, which were psalms, prayers, and other Glor’diadelian scriptures.  “It glorifies their god,” he said.  Then, after a pause, he continued somewhat disingenuously, “I will study it at more length when I can.  Perhaps there is something of value.”

I also spoke with Lord Varlin.  He warned me against associating with a succubus, believing that she would arrange my ruin and carry me off to the Abyss.  If she were a succubus, he would likely be right, but as she is an erinyes I knew that I could rely on my control over her.  Still, I could not admit that to him, so I simply stressed my control over her.  He was incredulous, but then, he does not understand the power Lord Paranswarm gives over his fiendish servants, or the discipline and order that prevails among devils.  

[Interestingly, Alveera went from being amused by the conversation to being worried over the course of it.  She believed that Konrad did not control her and that Lord Varlin’s predictions were true, but the longer and more confidently Konrad asserted his dominion, the more she worried that perhaps he was right because of her oath to serve Paranswarm.  Konrad, of course was oblivious to all of this.]


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Mar 8, 2008)

For five days, we traveled without incident.  Lord Varlin kept reading the writings, a little each day, but he refused to speak to Alveera.  He clearly believed that she was a succubus and distrusted her intensely because of that.  Without Alveera as an effective tool, I feared I would not be able to bring him to the Darkness instead of the Light.

As we marched, we saw great swirling clouds of dust moving from west to east ahead of us.  I wondered if it could be from the wings of the dragon, but my companions assured me that the dragon would be long gone, and that the dust cloud was the wrong shape-- very long, relatively thin.  Sideh suggested that it could be a moving army.

Spring flew up to scout and soon reported back.  He saw that it was a sizeable and rag-tag army, moving west and southerly, towards the destroyed dragonhold.  The army consisted of some 2000 figures all told, perhaps as many as 3000, but no great ones-- major demons or the like-- among them.  It was clearly a shadow army, goblins and eums.  Based on the haphazard structure of the army, Spring suspected that it was probably pulled together from a couple of random tribes and sent to investigate.  The army had very little organization-- the entire leadership was a trio of chaos centaurs.

“Headed to Clawfast,” commented Lord Varlin.

“What is at Clawfast?” we asked, even though we knew what had happened there.

“Nothing that I know of.  They must be reinforcements, but for what purpose?”

“Should we ask?” said Spring.

“Why not?”  Lord Varlin traveled forward rapidly.  “Hail, chaos centaurs.  Whither are you going through the edges of my father’s land?”

The centaurs saluted him in a ragged way.  “We go to Clawfast.  We are ordered there by the Master of the Thronged City.  He says that we must go there as fast as possible.”

We encouraged Lord Varlin to hurry them on-- if they were moving fast enough when they reached the area of the bonewater dust, many of them might be affected and destroyed, although we did not tell him that.  Lord Varlin said, “You must hurry along.  If these rabble dally on these lands, they will have more to fear than your whips.”  The centaurs took the hint and began vigorously applying their whips.  The army lurched forward.

“What is the Thronged City?” asked Spring when they had departed.

“The capital.  The Master of the Thronged City is its mayor, but he has power beyond his city,” explained Lord Varlin.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Mar 16, 2008)

We traveled onwards for three more uneventful days, drawing near to the edge of Shadow.  On the last full day of travel, when we could almost see the tint of light from the Shadowland on the northern horizon, a volley of spears came in out of nowhere.  One of the spears struck me a heavy blow-- had it been a short distance lower, it would have slain me beyond resurrection, but it only creased my skull.

Twang responded first, although he did no more than to move away and cast _mage armor_.  Spring saw them before he acted. Our attackers, which appeared to be goblyns, had sand-colored robes, which partially concealed them.  They were arrayed about 35 feet away, spread out in a 25 foot semicircle.  Spring rushed off to the side and breathed a cone of steam-- I believe he used a spell but I cannot be certain.   The cone caught all of them, though they were effected differently.  One caught the full blast and broiled to death.

The second volley of spears, while some of us were still stupefied, all targeted Spring-- one would have impaled him badly were he corporeal, but passed through harmlessly.

Lord Varlin swept to the side opposite side from Spring and breathed a line of acid, killing one and wounding another.  Already wounded, I activated my ring to become invisible and directed Alveera to seek to gain control over their minds.  She promptly suggested one into surrendering.

Twang yelled at the remainder and remarkably intimidated them into standing up, thus losing their main tactical advantage of disguise.  Spring wounded them with an earth burst, leaving one of them almost dead.

At that point, I would estimate that their morale broke; two fled, while one of them died from the strain of attacking.  Lord Varlin hesitated for a second, and then flew after them and hacked the fleeing one to death.  He seemed both somewhat reluctant to attack a fleeing foe and yet at the same time, utterly brutal in his attacks.  I can only surmise that this represented a conflict between his two ancestral natures.

We looted the dead and got little more than a few strips of lousy meat.  They had some badly formed weapons, but the leader had a scimitar that was well-enough made to be worth taking.  I detected magic, but the only equipment besides our own that was magical was Lord Varlin’s equipment.  I noted that in addition to the powerful dweomers on his armor and weapon, he clearly carried several potions.

We interrogated the surrendered goblyn,  which revealed that there were a half-dozen similar bands in the area.  It also said that a mighty one passed over several days ago, but had not yet returned.  If our plan succeeded, it never would.  We brought the goblyn with us.  Upon my instruction, Alveera quietly commanded the goblyn into serving the Darkness, and it immediately obeyed.  Truly, one of the signs of how much greater Lord Paranswarm is then the false Shadow gods is that His servants will die rather than betray Him, but their servants quickly rally to the banner of the Lord of Orderly Darkness.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Mar 22, 2008)

We pressed on toward the border, but we would have had to travel deep into the night to reach it before the next day.  Traveling at night for any appreciable distance would be riskier than spending a short amount of additional time in the Shadow, and so we rested.  Suddenly, we each realized that there was another presence among us.  I cannot say how I knew, except that I felt it in my bones.

Spring spoke quietly.  “Lord Varlin?  Something is here?”

“There is a mighty one among us.  I can feel him.”

We heard a voice, although even with my experience, I cannot say whether I heard it with my ears or with my mind.  “Such an interesting group.  Such an interesting place for this group.  Do you even realize you’re dead, boy?  I’ll take your silence for a no.”  The voice seemed to be speaking from all around us.

“Are you talking to me?” said Twang.

“Of course.  Who but you would I be speaking with?”  Something about it had the feel of the Hastur to it, but corrupt.

“No, I don’t know that.  Everything still works.”

Laughter, like the laughter of a young woman and the noise of rocks rolling into a crevasse carried across the plain.

“Who are you?” asked Twang.

“I have a number of names.”

“So do I.  That number is one.”

“You may call me Pale Night, if you wish.”  The voice focused its attention on me.  “And you.  You have hope of bringing these lands back to the side they once were.  That is good.”

I did not speak aloud, but thought back, <<Lord Paranswarm commands it, and it will be done.>>

We heard more laughter.  “One can but hope.  This ridiculous play on behalf of the Council wastes resources of the Abyss that could be better used.  Who are you?” I felt her riffle through my mind.  I fear that she gained all the information that she wanted.  “You amuse me.  All of you.  I do not care about this war.”  We felt fingers run down our spines, and a single hair plucked from each of us.    “I will keep my eyes on you.  And I will bet with other disinterested nobles of the Abyss.  I will bet for you.”

“Do we get something if we win?”  said Spring.

“Audacious.  Yes.  I will promise you something if you win.  But you will have to win to find out what.”  With that, the presence departed.

I did not recognize the name Pale Night, but when I asked Alveera, all that she would say was that Pale Night is the Mistress of the Maze of Bone, and older than the demon lords.

Later that night, Sideh summoned a celestial dog to tell Lord Varlin not to worry, that he was watched and guarded, and would find salvation in the things he reads.

Shortly after the celestial dog disappeared, we saw a group of dim globes of light drifting against the breeze through the night air.  Lord Varlin hurried us behind a nearby dune.  “Those are possessors.  They can take over a body-- possess it-- use it.  They must have sensed the presence of something from the Light.  Oh.  We might be convenient to them.  It is not us that they search for.  We have nothing to worry about.  They must have a specific goal.  I am quite sure that they do.”

We stayed hidden, and the possessors passed on.

After a half day of travel in the morning, we came to the line.  From the other side, it is a wall of shadow, but from within the Shadowlands, even within occupied Caldefor, it is a wall of light shining brightly.

Lord Varlin stepped forward holding out a hand towards the Shadowline.  “That’s it!  That’s it!”  After a moment, he stopped himself and affected a calmer attitude.  “I mean, we’re here.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Mar 29, 2008)

Session 6:

We approached the Shadowline.  The goblyn was cringing, while Lord Varlin appeared excited but calm.  We saw the usual shimmer of the energy line that travels along the Shadowline-- the watchful eye of the Hastur.

Spring flew across before the rest of the group, and reported back that we were in visual range of Circle Waterside, although far enough away that the land was rock and dust, not reclaimed land yet.  He heard the sound of excited and happy people on the other side of the Shadowline-- Spring later confirmed that he had cast a _ghost sound_ to try to ease Lord Varlin’s way across.

Buzz tried to convince Lord Varlin to cross with her; the goblyn, Sideh, and I hung back.  Lord Varlin clapped excitedly, then took her hand and headed across the line.  When they were perhaps 15 feet away, the speed of the light that represents the watchful eye of the Hastur increased greatly.  He, or us, or both, had drawn their attention.  As Lord Varlin touched the Shadowline and passed through, a small detachment of tower guards came riding out towards us, riding tough desert ponies.  A tower monitor-- not a Hastur, but with some psionic ability-- led them.

The goblyn shook violently, terrified by the Shadowline.  I put my hand on its shoulder, both to steady it and if necessary to force it forward.  As we passed through, a sparkly light crossed over the goblyn, but it did not focus on him, which would have meant death.  

I told him, “The Lord of Darkness protects his loyal servants.”  

The goblyn agreed, but perhaps with more doubt than a proper Paranswarmian should have.  Still, he had passed through the Shadowline and was beginning to relax, and that would be a first step towards his loyal service in Darkness.

The Monitor welcomed us back and informed us of an altercation to the west-- presumably the battle involving Lord Ripgut, although we could not confirm that.  At his urging, we went to the Tower, where a Hastur joined us.  “You have brought guests-- new ones.  Bring them in, bring them in.  Set a table-- but lightly, they will not be used to eating to satiation.”  The voice of the Hastur continued in my mind.  <<Has he been deloused?>>

<<Certainly not,>> I thought back.  <<He will need to be shaved and scrubbed.>>

<<Yes…>>

<<He is but a lesser servant of Lord Paranswarm.  If it would be best to exclude him for purity purposes, that would be completely acceptable.>>

There was a pause, as if the Hastur Keeper was considering this, but her mental voice was resolute when she continued.  <<We have always welcomed those who return from Shadow.  We then delouse them afterwards if necessary.  We will follow the tradition.>>

Spring quietly raised the issue of Lord Varlin with the Keeper.  She thought about it, and then reassured us.  “Soon enough he will enter shock.  I see his dragon blood.  I assume he is the child of one of the dragonhold lords.  I also see evidence of celestial blood, although I am not sure of what type.  He will soon learn that everything he has been taught about this side of the Shadowline is a lie.  To learn that everything you have built your life on was a lie would be stressful to anyone.  We will need a skilled healer.”

Spring suggested summoning a celestial, and the Keeper said that she would look into having an ally join us.

We also asked the Keeper what had happened with Ripgut.  She informed us that the dragon wreaked more havoc than we had hoped, but was ultimately eliminated.  We all rejoiced in this great victory against the Shadow.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Apr 5, 2008)

While we spoke quietly with the Keeper, Buzz sought to keep Lord Varlin occupied.  They discussed the psionic crystals embedded in the walls.  Lord Varlin commented that the crystals were very large and had some personality, and Buzz discussed them with him and also introduced her psicrystal, which is quite talkative.

When Lord Varlin judged that he and Buzz were out of the elf Keeper’s hearing, he spoke urgently.  “We are in a Light tower.”

“Yes, we are.  Are you okay?”  Buzz adopted a soothing, calm tone.

“They don’t know who we are?”

“They may be confused as to who you are.”

“Are we safe here?”

“I think so.  If they wanted to harm us, they could have as we crossed the Shadowline.”

“I just worked out what the arcane writing says.  It is in my mother’s tongue.  It is a curse against those who despoil the tower.”  He paused.  “I assume that someone will shortly want to kill us.”

“Do you intend to despoil the tower?”

“I couldn’t despoil this.  That’s a Hastur over there.”

“Clearly they can tell that you have good motives.”

“They can?  We do?  But… surely they will not let us live to leave if they know who we are.”

“Then we had better not let them know who we are.”

“They do not take prisoners.  If you fight against the Hastur, you either triumph or you are destroyed.  And those destroyed at the line do not even leave ashes to be eaten.”

“What do the rumors say about people who cross the line without destructive intent?”  At Lord Varlin’s confused expression, Buzz clarified.  “Without immediate destructive intent?”

“We might be the first people to cross the line without immediate destructive intent.”

“Then maybe the rumors don’t apply to us.”

“Maybe,” said Lord Varlin doubtfully.

They continued speaking about the crystals.

After a little while, Lord Varlin said, “It is like I can hear them, but that is ridiculous.”

“It might be an inheritance from your mother,” replied Buzz.  “I can also hear them muttering.  Can you make out actual words?”

“I think so… They are talking about the structure of the tower, and the structure of the line.”

“That is what they are here to do.  Have you heard this before?”

“Nothing talks like that over there.”

The Keeper approached Lord Varlin and rather casually ran her fingers over a pearl necklace. Sideh later informed us that it was clearly a holy necklace--possibly a low-level artifact, but definitely holy.  I have my doubts as to whether it was truly holy.  I suspect that it was simply consecrated to Glor’diadel, not infused with the power of the Lord of Darkness.  Abruptly, bright light swirled out from the necklace, and a winged female form with feathery wings and an elegant, gold covered coif appeared.  Lord Varlin fell over backwards as soon as she appeared.  His eyes rolled up in his head, and he started getting into a fetal position.

I held my holy symbol carefully.  I doubted that associating with a celestial of the god of our allies would offend Lord Paranswarm, or that the celestial would harm me, but it was not like a servant of the Darkness.  I thought it was prudent to be ready and to demonstrate that my allegiance was not in doubt.

Buzz commented on Lord Varlin.  “He doesn’t seem to be doing so well.  I think you surprised him.”

The celestial blessed the Hastur and Sideh.  I was glad that she did not try to bless me.  She then addressed Lord Varlin.  “Now, lad.  I intend you no harm.  Your mother was a cousin of mine, after a fashion.”  She very cautiously advanced, extending her aura over him.  He whimpered.  “I think we should try this again tomorrow.”

With that, the Keeper arranged for Lord Varlin to be taken to a room for recovery and dismissed the celestial.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Apr 12, 2008)

We informed the Keeper of the presence of the Chaos Champion and her lamias as infiltrators on this side of the Shadowline.  We considered this to be intelligence that might meaningfully affect the Shadowline’s security.  Any further losses to the Shadow would, of course, greatly interfere with our efforts to regain Caldefor.

The Keeper thanked us and informed us of some circumstances of particular relevance in light of that threat.  She said, “There is more clingfire coming in a train from the Holy City, to reinforce the Towers.  It is very slow to create, and it was felt that we did not have enough.  An attack on that supply train could cost us dearly.”

Sideh asked if we should reinforce the supply train.

The Keeper shook her head.  “Probably not.  Even if you could reach it in time, you would be unlikely to materially increase its defenses.  However, you have told us two things of great importance.  First, we must contact the train and have it pull off until its guard can be reinforced.  Second, there must be a leak in the Holy City.  They would not have taken this risk if they did not have some information already, and news of the clingfire shipment is by far the most likely to have drawn them.

“You have been very helpful.  I will send your names on with this dispatch, to make it known who has done such a service.  But you should also go to the site of the battle with the dragon-- you may find things that would be useful.”

We eagerly headed off.  As we traveled, we discussed how best to cause internal strife within Dragonhold Ripgut.  After some consideration, we concluded that we should leak back reports of Lord Drakhl having betrayed Ripgut to his death.  From what we knew, that seemed like a plausible rumor that would likely turn all of the other forces against Lord Drakhl, who we believed to be the most dangerous remaining foe associated with the Ripgut.  We planned on leaking the news to Liliana, the Chaos Champion.

My initial suggestion was to have an obvious messenger carry a message describing a betrayal, so that she would ambush the messenger and then carry the message back across.  The others, especially Sideh, were adamantly opposed to this idea.  I am not entirely certain why.  They focused on the fact that the Chaos Champion would kill the messenger.  For what we gained, I thought that would be a completely acceptable cost.  We could use a condemned prisoner or someone else of low-value-- perhaps someone who was destitute and would be interested in earning their survivors a pension.  Even with that clarification, the others would not consider the idea.

After some further discussion, we decided that we would spread rumors among the soldiers and militia.  They would be obvious targets for the Chaos Champion’s spying efforts, and she would also likely consider them to be a reliable source of information.  We decided that Sideh, Alveera, and I would take principal responsibility for spreading the information.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Apr 19, 2008)

I have developed a backlog of written storyhour that I haven't posted, and the backlog is growing rather than shrinking.  So I'm going to switch to a twice per week schedule-- Saturdays and Wednesdays-- at least for the foreseeable future.

------

We approached the site of the battle.  Several human bodies were laid out by the side of the field. The battle was clearly messy.  The actual drovers we positioned to guard the cattle had fared poorly, and all of the cattle had died.  These losses were of course acceptable but still reduced our resources.  Our Hastur allies had also lost some troops, although none of the Hastur themselves.  I made the sign of the downward arrow over the Paranswarmian dead.  Some locals were gathering parts of cow, clearly trying to recover as much useable food as possible.  More importantly for our purposes, parts of the dragon lay scattered about.  My estimate is that about half of the dragon’s body had been disintegrated.  The largest part left was the left fore-leg.  Spring investigated the dragon corpse, while I began sweeping the area in a grid with <i>detect magic</i>.

Sideh approached surviving soldiers to get an account of the battle.  The battle proceeded mostly as planned.  As the dragon attacked the cattle, the Hastur dimensionally locked the area and engaged with spells, psionics, and troops.  He was powerful and inflicted fearsome damage, but it could not stand against a well-prepared Hastur ambush.  As Ripgut went down, he hurled a small casket from himself, apparently trying to get it away from himself.  

[Durak joined the session at this point.]

We located several interesting items and remains.  A handful of Ripgut’s scales seemed to be embedded with a grayish-black, glowing powder.  The powder detected as vaguely magical, with a transmutation aura.  Upon further examination, we concluded that the scales emanate a form of obscurement.  They made Ripgut’s aura appear neutral.  Carrying one would probably obscure  auras offensive to the Shadow in reverse.  We recovered about a half-dozen and distributed them out, with each of us taking one.

We also located the landing site of the casket.  Our assessment, based in part on the fact that it ended up wedged four feet in the ground, was that Ripgut tried to conceal it by flinging it away from himself.  We kept our distance, and I summoned a lemure to investigate the casket.  The lemure trudged over to the casket and slowly dragged it out of the divot it had made in the field.

We were unable to magically detect anything about its contents because of the lead inlay.  The casket bore complicated Abyssal runes-- I recognized a series of protective spells and a couple of obscurement spells.  It was sealed shut by a single lock at the hasp.  At closer range, we noted a grayish metal that we could not recognize as well as the more familiar lead.  The main protective spells warded against breakage.  Except for the locking spell, all of the spells seemed to be directed outward.

We discussed the casket extensively.  All of us were nervous, almost scared, because of it.  Our leading theories included that it was something Ripgut did not dare leave behind, that it was a weapon he wanted to bring across the Shadowline, or that it was part of a separate plan.  After much consideration, we decided to leave it unopened.

Spring, Durak, Buzz, and I harvested some dragon parts:  scales, intact internal organs, and glands.  I concluded that their principal use would be for summoning black abishai, or for sale to others who would use them for the same purpose.  A supply sufficient to summon one abishai would probably sell for 1000 silver in a good market, although more like 700 in a bad one.  

While we gathered the parts, Sideh went to a small, stockaded reclaiming village to get a cart to carry the casket and the dragon parts.  Based on his report, the residents greeted him and happily hired a cart out.  The mules were extraordinarily mean and nasty, but Sideh picked out the most curious one, gave her some feed, and got her to like him, at least for the moment.  The carter told Sideh that the reclaiming village had been up for five years this time.  This was the third time that it had been rebuilt.  He said that the last raid almost got them, but somehow the soldiers seemed to know it was coming--clearly a reference to the ambush we had arranged.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Apr 23, 2008)

While we waited for Sideh to return with the cart, we talked with the soldiers and also fed the information about the betrayal to them.  As we spoke, one of the soldiers spotted some bony hands dragging the casket back towards the Shadowline.  Spring shot the ground near it with his needfire crossbow.  The splash of needfire destroyed some of the bones.  I attempted to control it with a <i>command undead</i> spell, but the undead were already under mind control and I could not overcome the pre-existing compulsion.  Spring’s second needfire attack destroyed the bones.  Durak and I searched the area, but Alveera pointed across the border and squeeked.

On the far side of the Shadowline, a hunched, robed, bony figure stared towards the casket with red, unblinking, flaming eyes.  We began preparing if it attacked, but Alveera put us at ease.  “Oh, it won’t be coming.  It could not get to this side.  It would be destroyed.”

I identified it as probably a quasi-lich.  I explained to my companions that true liches can create quasi-liches out of willing, living participants.  They exist to serve their true lich masters.  Based on a quasi-lich’s presence, I hypothesized that the casket might contain the dracolich’s phylactery.  We also knew that we would need to proceed with care.  The least powerful quasi-liches can wield spells of the fifth circle, far above our capabilities.

Spring fired a needfire bolt across the border.  It flashed white as it touched the border and became pure energy.  The energy splashed the quasi-lich, but at a cost:  dark sparkly bits swirled on the Shadowline.  Needfire can, in shadow, attract the attention of other things.   The quasi-lich hunkered down and cast _shield_.  Spring fired again while we loaded the casket onto the cart.  The quasi-lich glared at us, and we could see a desire to strike back on its bony, barely skinned face.

As we worked, a cluster of lesser demons also gathered near the border.  We loaded the cart as quickly as possible and traveled on a parabola away from the border and back to the tower, arriving on the tower grounds near midnight.

A much older elf, with almost transparent skin, appeared.  Her hair was elaborately coifed in a vertical style, extending perhaps nine inches above her head.  She looked over the contents of the cart carefully.  “Fascinating.  The casket of the essence of one of the great liches.”

“Do you know what lich it belongs to?” asked Spring.

“A dracolich,” she replied, “but I cannot identify it more specifically than that.”

Spring gestured at the casket.  “Do you want it?”

At almost the same moment, Sideh asked, “Can it be destroyed?”

“Yes, it can be destroyed.  If we take it, our tendency will be to destroy it,” she replied.

I asked, “Would that destroy the lich?”

“No, but it would discomfit it for several months.  It might be forced to flee.  If the dracolich were discorporated first, it would not be able to reform if the phylactery were destroyed.”  She paused while we considered that, and then slowly continued.  “However, it is also worth noting that most liches will do almost anything to regain their phylactery.  I hesitate to mention this-- deals with any Shadow creature are dangerous.  But you have Paranswarmians among you, and our Paranswarmian allies have often been more willing to engage in negotiations with the Shadow to gain advantage than the forces of Light.  It seemed amiss to not raise the possibility.”

We all discussed the possible uses of leverage over a dracolich.  We quickly focused on the possibility of using the dracolich to destroy the remaining forces at Dragonhold Ripgut, but the Keeper rejected that idea.   “It is unlikely that he would do something as utterly self-destructive as to destroy the Dragonhold.”

“What about attacking Lord Bastion?” I asked.  He was not one of our main objectives but still represented an obstacle to restoring Caldefor to the Darkness.

“That might be something he would be willing to do.”

We discussed the matter further and developed a more complete plan.

I spent the night in the town and checked on those we had brought into the Darkness.  As their masters, we have a duty to supervise them and make certain that they prosper, that they may provide us with greater services in the future.  I also had been on the road for a long time and wished to enjoy the comforts of our home in exile.  I found that the Trueborn fared well.  They had learned that if they worked hard, they would get a sufficient amount to eat.  This was novel to them and inspired both loyalty and devoted attention to their duty.  It underscored the tremendous waste of resources inherent in the Shadow’s methods.  The goblyn was still just getting used to living beyond the Shadow, but he had been deloused, shaved, and scrubbed.  A pinkish color now shone through under his gray.  I believe that with sufficient time, he, too, would become a loyal servant of Lord Paranswarm.  Indeed, perhaps we could use him as a leader to bring other goblyns into the Darkness.

We also had further discussions with Lord Varlin.  A second Hastur--this one rather less stable, as far as I could tell-- joined the first Keeper and us for breakfast.  His strange ramblings and confused ways troubled me.  We depend on the Hastur for a chance to bring Caldefor back to the Darkness.  Indeed, we will need their Shadowline to keep Caldefor endarkened after we triumph, unless Lord Paranswarm or His Holy Church choose to devote more power to the protection of our homeland than He has in His Wisdom done thus far.  And yet, it is difficult to not perceive a certain whiff of chaos in the Hastur.  Does their descent into madness show that they are not truly aligned with the forces of order?  A troubling thought, but if that were the case, I cannot fathom why they would make common cause with us.  Our Glor’diadelian allies are comprehensible.  Though their god is weaker than Lord Paranswarm and unworthy of service, Glor’diadel is a lesser god of law.  The enmity between Glor’diadelians and the Shadow is as natural as the Church’s declarations that the Shadow is anathema.

I cannot discern a similar reason for a force of chaos to battle against the Shadow.  To be sure, chaos wars within itself-- one of the many demonstrations of its inherent inferiority.  But while we have manipulated parts of the Shadow to our ends, we do not recognize any true alliance with them.  The relationship with the Hastur is different.  Perhaps they are best understood as tools that gradually break after long service.  If they devote themselves to the Law in principle but are made disordered by the great forces they must contend with, our alliance is logical.  Then they would be worthy of pity for their sacrifice, giving up their own internal order as a sacrifice to the greater Order of Lord Paranswarm and His lesser allies.  I remain troubled and will consult with a priest when I have the opportunity.  Still, it is clear that the Church and the rightful Count regard the Hastur as allies, and I would never question their authority.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Apr 26, 2008)

One of the Hastur made an announcement at the breakfast.  “Honored lords, ladies, guests, and friends, we are pleased to announce the failure of a raid intended to capture the clingfire currently en route from the capital to the towers.  The Chaos Champion is currently falling back, though not in open flight.  Our forces are remaining set in case this is a feint.”

The other Keeper, who we were now becoming familiar with, spoke gently to Lord Varlin.  “Do you wish to meet your distant cousin this morning?”

He looked at her suspiciously.  “You do not intend to kill me and consume my brain, do you?”

“No.  The thought had not crossed my mind.  In fact, I hope that no matter how senile I get, that thought will never cross my mind.”  A worthy sentiment on her part, but another acknowledgment of the chaos that overtakes the Hastur’s minds over time.

“I do not understand you,” he replied.

“That is acceptable.  Understanding takes time.”

“Then I will meet my cousin.”

“It will be like a family reunion,” commented Buzz.

“Then who will die?” asked Lord Varlin.

“Does that always happen at family reunions?” she asked.

“I have only been to two.  Both were arranged so that someone would be killed.”

Buzz had no reply that could assuage Lord Varlin’s fears.  A few minutes later, the winged figure reappeared.  Lord Varlin and the celestial talked-- this time Lord Varlin, while clearly frightened and awed, did not suffer a collapse.  We withdrew to our day’s duties as they continued their discussions.

Before implementing our plan with the phylactery, we attended to some routine business.  We sold approximately half of the dragon organs we had recovered.  Due to the limited nature of the market in which we sold them, we were only able to get 350 silver.  We kept the other half, which I estimated as enough to summon three black abishai.  Spring asked for the materials to summon one, and I was allocated enough to summon two.  Because Spring had raised the possibility that he would begin engaging in diabolism in the future, I stressed the fact that he would need to apply for a license from the Church.  He promised that he would secure a license before any summoning.  While we dealt with the magical supplies, Sideh took the dragon scales he had harvested to a skilled leatherworker, who promised to make him a fine suit of armor.

With those matters dealt with, we returned to where we had seen the quasi-lich.  We drafted a missive on a scrap of parchment, carried it forward to the Shadowline, and threw it across the line, taking care to not touch the Line itself for the sake of keeping our identity vague (and to remain beyond the quasi-lich’s power).

Our first message read, “We have your master’s phylactery.  We want to negotiate.”

By this point, the quasi-lich had a small army of little demons and minor undead with it.  One of the minor demons, a manes, crept up, picked up the letter, and carried it to the quasi-lich.  The quasi-lich took out a black stone, concentrated, and then wrote back.  The manes carried the quasi-lich’s message back to the Shadowline and carefully pushed it across using only one toe.

“We are also willing to negotiate.  What do you wish from the great and mighty Lord Drakhl?’

“We wish to replace Lord Bastion.  We wish Lord Drakhl to eliminate him for us, while keeping his manor relatively intact.”

The quasi-lich paused a long time, concentrating on its black stone, before sending back the next message across.  “Lord Bastion is a weakling, worthless for the defense of our land.  You are clever.  You will do better with his minions.  What guarantee can you offer that you will not continue to hold the phylactery over Lord Drakhl to blackmail him in perpetuity?”

Buzz took out a white pebble and stared at it.  While we feigned communication with some absent master, we discussed our next response.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Apr 30, 2008)

Session 7:

After much discussion, we agreed on a response, wrote it out, and sent it across.  “It would be too dangerous.  Someone would kill us to take it or torture us for the information about its location.  We’re not interested in pushing our luck by holding onto it too long.”

After a longer delay of staring at the stone, it scribbled on a scrap of parchment, “The mighty and magnificent Lord Drakhl is willing to perform this act, but there must be one of you ready to take charge of the fortifications when they fall.”

We discussed that as well.  Whoever we sent could easily be used as a hostage, yet there seemed little choice but to accept--anything else could easily destroy the negotiations.  “That is acceptable.  The person we choose will bring servants appropriate to manning the mansion.  When will you strike?”

“The magnificent Lord Drakhl departs for Lord Bastion’s mansion as we speak, with 500 eum.  I will lead you there when you are ready.”

I should note that Twang glared at the demonic servitors of the quasi-lich, terrifying them completely.  I do not know what to make of this.  Perhaps he was trying to support the ruse, or perhaps he simply wishes the forces of Shadow to fear him if there is a later battle.  His actions seem rather disordered to me, but the alliance with him has worked well thus far, and so I decided to not raise an issue out of his oddities.

With the negotiations completed, we returned to the Circle for our final preparations, again following a parabolic route away from the Shadowline so that the quasi-lich would be unable to observe where we went.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (May 3, 2008)

Upon returning to the Circle, we asked to speak with the Keeper we knew was sane.  When she met with us, we asked if the Hastur would be willing to cross the Shadowline to engage Drakhl.  It would not be without risk, but if he could be lured to the edge of the Shadowline, while we still possessed his phylactery, we would have an opportunity to destroy him permanently.  

The Keeper thought carefully and then nodded.  “We will take part in this plan.  In particular, Drakhl might attempt to cross the Shadowline to rescue his phylactery.  If we were caught unaware by such an effort, the dracolich might succeed.  But if we are ready, he would surely perish.  If he is not willing to cross, we will take the battle to him.  I see a chance, in the prolipses, of actually freeing Caldefor.  That is worth hazarding a certain amount of risk.”

“We will be moving troops down to Bastion’s manor,” I added.  “Are there additional warriors that we could use to augment the Trueborn we will bring with us?”

“Few of your people continue.  Most of those who escaped as refugees have resettled over the years.  However, an offer of land and status might well get you some bands of hardy, though undisciplined, warriors.”

Some of my companions spoke favorably about this idea, but I noted a problem.  “We would need to speak to the Count in exile.  The lands are not ours to offer-- they belong to the Count, and to any of his nobles who have remained loyal and joined him in exile.  We could not presume to offer his lands as a reward.”

“There may be some who would serve for the offer of loot without land, although they will be fewer and you will need to work harder to recruit them.”

Buzz raised the issue of how long it would take Drakhl’s army to reach Bastion’s manor.  That would determine how long we would have to gather troops of our own.  The Hastur said that it would take the Eum four days to make the trip from Dragonhold Ripgut to the manor.  The rest of us had a more realistic estimate:  it would take a minimum of a week, and possibly substantially more time, for the eums to force-march that distance.  [In fact, Konrad botched an Int check here.  The Hastur’s estimate was correct.]  That would leave us substantial time to recruit mercenaries.  We agreed that Sideh and Spring would guard the phylactery, both while we recruited mercenaries and while we traveled to the manor to take possession.

The Hastur spoke again.  “Since I have taken an interest in this, I can transport you and any mercenaries you recruit.  Would you be interested in nonhuman troops, from the place of Passing?  Rapa would be particularly convincing, although chuliks might be better in a fight.”

“What are they?” we asked.

“They are creatures that pass into our plane from beyond.”

“Are they reliable?”

“We have hired a few for previous purposes.”

We agreed that we would travel to the place of Passing to recruit troops.  I also sent Alveera to recruit warriors as well-- I figured that she would be able to find many soldiers interested in work.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (May 7, 2008)

A short while later, another Hastur, his hair arranged in an elaborate corkscrew, descended the stairs.  “My dear lady… going out after a twelve hour shift?”

“I believe I am.  I’m taking these young people, living and dead, to the place of Passing.”

She gathered us together and touched a bracelet.  A moment later, we were standing in wind-whipped mountains.  The area was strange-- the mountain valley appeared natural, but the large town within the valley contained every shape of hut imaginable.  All of the huts were gathered around a spot where a blue light flickered about, seemingly randomly.  The place of Passing lies in the middle of the Barrier Mountains on Drucien-- several thousand miles away from Caldefor.

“Ah, Elder, come thee here,” said the Keeper, before carefully introducing us to a white haired man-- the only human outside our group that we could see in the valley.  “They are looking for warriors.  What has come through the gate recently?”

The Elder bowed respectfully.  “Many Pachak, and some few Rapa, have passed in.”

“Do they look for employment?”

“The Pachak… who can say?  The Rapa always seek employment, great lady.”

He led us off towards a couple small encampments outside the village.  The mix of creatures in the village was amazing-- mostly things I had neither seen nor heard of before, but some few that I recognized.  I had to wonder if such diversity of forms could be consistent with good order, but we needed troops, and they did not seem Abyssal in origin.  The Elder brought us to a large encampment in the trees and gestured at a small encampment on the ground some distance away.  “The Pachak are above.  As for the Rapa, their encampment is over there.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (May 10, 2008)

We approached the Pachak first.  The Elder clambered up the trees with surprising dexterity, and we began following.  Buzz simply walked up the side of the tree, using one of her psionic abilities.  As she climbed, a group of monkey-like people, wearing leather armor and with hands on the ends of their tails, clambered down.  They seemed fascinated by her climbing and stared at her feet in curiosity.  I threw a rope up to Buzz and climbed up after she had tied it off.

An elderly female of the monkey people, who we inferred were the Pachak, spoke, but not in any language we recognized.  We responded by greeting her in a rapid profusion of languages-- Common, Abyssal, Infernal, Draconic, Kobold-- I even tried the Paranswarmian Church language.  She did not appear to understand any of the languages fluently, but finally said in accented and unclear Common, “Hello.”

Buzz bowed slightly.  “Hello.  I am Buzz, and these are my friends, Twang and Konrad.”

“Choktarcrichet,” responded the elder.  She waived all three of her hands at all of the others of her kind and said, “Pachak.”

Twang asked, “Pachak from here?”

Choktarcrichet shook her head and pointed at the blue light in the village.

Twang continued, “Want place to live?”

The elder thought and then nodded, “Village.”

“Yes, village home,” said Buzz.

I added, “Better village.”  We were all being careful to try to keep our words and concepts simple.

Twang moved on to the next point. “Need work?”

“Warriors?”

“Yes, warriors.”

“Varedoiny,” said the Elder, pointing at Buzz.

That lost us completely.  Buzzed turned to the Hastur for help.  “Can you determine, with her permission, what she means by that?”

“I should be able to,” said the Hastur.  They stared at each other for a while.  “Ah.  Servantum.”

The elder and all of the other creatures nodded vigorously at that.  She came over and stroked Buzz’s foot and kissed her toes.

The Hastur explained.  “Apparently, their world has two types of mind-walkers:  the Servantum and the Varedoiny.  The Servantum cure the sick and protect people.  The Varedoiny use their power to take whatever they want.  I explained that you were Servantum.”

The elder looked at us again.  “Village for warriors?  Good land?  Trees?”

That presented a slight difficulty.  Lord Bastion has some small areas protected from the Dhoyles, but most of his land has had the life sucked from it to become dust.  The only way we know of to restore the land is to use fertilizer, and then to grow binding plants that bring the dust back into usable soil.  Over time, the land becomes fertile again.  However, it could easily be a ten-year process before the land would support trees.

Twang took it upon himself to explain this.  In his broken Common, he explained that there is some land, but that all the good land is claimed.  The Pachak could have land, but it will take work and will need to be reclaimed.  The Choktar, for we figured out that that was a title, not a name, asked clarifying questions while Twang tried to explain.  With neither of them truly fluent in Common, the process was nigh interminable, but three hours later, Twang had finally gotten the message across.

While Twang and the Choktar talked, Buzz and I started some sparring matches.  If we were going to use these Pachak as warriors, we would need to know how able they were.  I summoned a lemure.  Almost immediately, the Pachak all drew weapons and targeted them at the lemure.  “For spar,” I said, gesturing to try to communicate the idea.  Finally, one of them screwed a vial on a stick and sprinkled water on the lemure and Buzz.  Based on their behavior, they probably thought that the water was holy, but it did not burn the lemure as I would expect.  I am not certain why not.  [It is holy water, but the Pachak’s god is from a plane too far from Aphonion to grant divine magic.  While the weakest clerical spells still function, based on faith alone, higher level magic and the consecration of holy water is impossible.  The PCs have not yet learned this.]

The Pachak distributed wooden swords and formed a line.  The first one bent its knees outward and bobbed its head and then held its sword up in a salute.  The Choktar rang a bell, at which point the lead Pachak whirlwinded forward.  Buzz and the Pachak whacked each other simultaneously with the wooden swords, while a second wooden blade whizzed by Buzz’s head.  The next Pachak stepped up, and Buzz and the Pachak each struck resounding blows with the wooden weapons.  The Choktar rang its bell and sent them aside.  I gestured the lemure forward, and it engaged its foe.  They each hit struck once, with the lemure whacking its opponent hard.  The Pachak attempted to step back, but the lemure pursued.  I was forced to dismiss it to prevent an incident.  

Meanwhile, Twang and the Choktar were drawing pictographs in the dirt by this point, desperately trying to get their messages through.  Finally, the Choktar nodded and accepted the offer on behalf of the entire group.

Based on the sparring, we estimated that the Pachak were elite to ultra-elite troops [about 4th-5th level], and incredibly disciplined.  The military orders of Paranswarm are the only forces that I have seen that are as well-disciplined.  Our estimate was that they were an army unit.  They included roughly 400 warriors, all male, with perhaps 40 camp followers and about 60 illegitimate children.

Buzz mentioned that those numbers might be too small to set up a permanent community-- they would become badly inbred over time.  I suggested that we might give them some of the Trueborn.  They might not be able to breed together, but it would be worth the attempt.

Buzz asked, “Rapa?” and shrugged.  If they were enemies, we would not want to trigger a conflict.

They pinched their noses.  One poured water off the platform.  Not a positive response, to be sure, but not an indication of hatred either.  We decided to seek the Rapas’ aid as well.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (May 14, 2008)

The area around the Rapa encampment had a vile odor.  They had stomped the area completely flat, like ostriches do to make a nest, but as far as we could tell, they deposited their waste right next to where they live.  The Rapa themselves, about fifty in number, looked a great deal like underfed, weaker vrocks.  They have vulture-like feathers, red and black bands on their necks, and light feathering.  They are effectively humanoid, without functional wings, and armed with javelins and very thin whip-swords.  One of them, wearing bangles, hopped out to meet us.  

“Yes?” it cried in a strange, bird-like voice

“Want to work?” asked Twang.

“What kind of work?”

“Fight, build, tear-down, kill.” he responded.

I offered some silver and sought to clarify.  “Fight, build, defend.”

The Rapa grew excited.  “Fight!  Kill!  Shinies!”

It squawked to the other Rapa, who immediately began packing up their camp.  We tried to negotiate a firm rate, but the Rapa did not seem to have a concept of numbers, just shiny objects.  My conclusion is that the key is to give them enough when the fighting is finished.  They think in terms of enough and not enough, without a concept of in between.  We also noted both males and females among them, roughly evenly divided, but, unlike the Pachaks, they all carried the same weapons and wore the same baubles.

As they finished breaking down their camp, the Rapa leader returned to us and cried, “Kill the enemy!”

Twang enthusiastically responded, “Kill the enemy, take their shiny things.”

“Yes!” it responded.

While I appreciated their enthusiasm and lust for battle-- good characteristics in mercenaries, who so often hold back to collect their pay without truly facing danger-- I also had to wonder about their wildness.  I fear that their resemblance to the vrock may be more than just outward experience.  We confirmed that they do not radiate evil or strong chaos-- they are not demons or the spawn of demons, despite their appearance.  But they may be more naturally inclined to chaos than to order, and unless we can rectify that, they will ultimately prove something of a liability.

With our recruiting finished, the Hastur opened another gate.  We gestured our new troops to proceed through.  The Pachak marched through the gate in perfect ranks, with the Choktar last, and then the Rapas cascaded through in a disorganized mob.  We traveled last and reappeared back at the Circle, with all of the troops milling around.

We estimated that it would take three days to reach Lord Bastion’s manor.  As soon as they arrived, the Pachak began digging trenches and putting up an earthwork rampart, in a very disciplined and military style.  They may not have accepted Lord Paranswarm’s dominion formally yet, but they are natural followers of His, with Order inherent in their beings.  Twang organized some of the Pachak to dig a proper latrine for the Rapas.

While the rest of the Pachak worked on the construction, the Choktar approached the Shadowline and pointed up at it.  “Verdoiney?”

Twang nodded.  “Oh, yes.  Verdoiney.”

The Choktar bared her teeth and averted her lips.  Twang mimicked the expression.

[That night, far away, deep in Shadow, beyond Caldefor, in an ancient hoary keep, a figure looked up from a board across which many playing pieces lay scattered, and a smile crossed its face.  “Lord Drakhl’s phylactery is missing from across the land.”]


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (May 17, 2008)

The following morning, we concluded our recruitment efforts for human mercenaries.  Two bands of mercenaries were eager to fight against the Shadow, and we agreed to pay them with a share of the loot that we would take.  A third band was more hesitant and negotiated heavily on price, although they became more interested once we told them that we would be traveling with a group of approximately 500 women.  We ultimately agreed on pay of one silver piece per day per mercenary, to be supplemented by combat bonuses.  All told, we ended up with about 120 human mercenaries.

We mobilize all of our troops and followers and headed across the Shadowline.  We had some 600 combat-ready troops out of more than 1000 total.

“Hail and well met,” said the quasi-lich.  “It is interesting creatures you bring, a powerful garrison I’m sure.”

Buzz replied, “It is in everyone’s interest for a strong garrison to replace Lord Bastion’s.”

“Indeed.”  The quasi-lich summoned a nightmare.  “Let us go.  My lord is well on his way towards the enemy.”

We traveled peacefully for three days.  By the time we arrived, the aftermath of a massive battle was under way.  The manor had been taken.  Eum troops were busily dismembering their former enemies and storing the meat.  The eums had also impaled several people or things-- we inferred that they had been Lord Bastion’s favored servants.

The attack caught the manor by complete surprise.  Approximately 300 of the eum also died-- an added benefit of reducing our foe’s strength.  The surviving eum dismembered their dead fellows as well, but more ritually.  They spoke to the dead and explained what their flesh would do to sustain others.  The whole approach was surprisingly orderly for creatures of chaos.

The quasi-lich gestured at the manor.  “The property is yours.  Inspect it.”

The damage to the manor was largely restricted to the battlements and towers.  The outlying towers were not in very good shape-- they looked like something large had landed on them and stuck in its claws.  As we walked towards the manor, a eum commander approached.  I recognized him from Dragonhold Ripgut as Commander Zolt.  He looked us over carefully for a chaos champion, then for any sort of leader.  After a moment, he approached me.  He had noted the “succubus” I had as a follower, for that was how Alveera had disguised herself.

The eum saluted.  “The grounds are secured.  We are still mucking the tunnels.  Lord Bastion has been destroyed.  The Master awaits you.”

“Are you confident that Lord Bastion has been completely destroyed and not just forced to retreat?”

“My lord Drakhl himself has eliminated Lord Bastion.  The destruction was total.”

Twang stepped forward. “Give us grand tour.”

“You wish to see everything?  Very well, we will start with the nightmare stables, then the abyssal dog kennel, and work our way up through all of the rooms.”  He took us through the manor, pointing out the libraries, the kitchens, and the other chambers as we passed.  

“Are there surviving minions?” I asked.

“Yes, we corralled those who surrendered in the courtyard.  Obviously, they are weak, so you may wish to destroy them, but that is your decision.”

“They will likely make adequate slaves,” I replied.

The eum nodded.  “As slaves, weakness is all that one can expect.”  He gestured at a heavy door as we walked past.  “We have not breached the treasury.  Frankly, since they are to be yours, I did not want to waste men breaching the traps.”  He led us past the armory, the solarium, which obviously had not been used recently, the summoning chamber, the private chambers, the slave chambers, and the private torture chamber.  In the torture chamber, Twang petted the instruments, drawing a grim nod from Zolt.  Commander Zolt also pointed out several secret passages that they had forced open.  “The tunnels are almost clear.  We will finish that task before we depart.”

“Do they connect to the Underdark?”

“No, they are local surface tunnels.  They exit about three miles away from the manor.”

As we finished our tour, I made a decision to try for a further advantage.  I reached out with my mind to Alveera and had her relay a telepathic message to the eum commander.  <<You should know, Commander Zolt, that Lord Drakhl and the undead of your garrison were responsible for Lord Ripgut’s death.>>

Commander Zolt blinked slightly but showed no other sign of recognition.  As he finished the tour of the manor, he bowed to me with more respect.  “There is the remains of what used to be the village when this was human, down the ridge.  There are wells that draw non-poisoned water, which is useful for an encampment.  Not that it will remain non-poisonous for long, with that number of half-demons among your garrison.”  He nodded towards the Rapa, clearly believing them to be half-vrocks.

We thanked Zolt and dismissed him before turning our attention to defending the manor.  We ordered the Pachak to begin repairing the towers.  Buzz and Twang joined them as they mortared the towers back together.  Twang began installing traps and casting _mending_.  Buzz slowly learned a few words of the Pachak language, all having to do with masonry.  They also noted that there appeared to be no rogues among the Pachak-- they recognize traps, but do not seem to have any use for them.

I spent my time examining the summoning chamber and the library with a few Rapa as guards.  The summoning chamber was extremely elaborate and very well stocked, although many of the supplies were things I have never heard of using for summoning.  I verified that there would be nothing improper about using the chamber to summon devils, despite the fact that it had supplies specific to summoning demons and was missing some of the standard implements for devils.  It would take me some time to fully adjust it back to proper diabolist standards, but when that task is complete, it will be a useful resource.

My examination of the library was more eventful.  The third book I looked at attacked me.  It stunned me somehow and tried to pierce my skin with a proboscis.  I struck the book with a magic missile, and one of the Rapa grabbed it and tried to slam it against the wall unsuccessfully.  The book had some holes in it by this point that were oozing a black liquid. It attacked the Rapa, extending a long thick tendril towards its neck.  The Rapa slammed it twice into the wall, squawking at it authoritatively.  I cast _Detect Thoughts_ and sensed a snarling and snapping mind in the book with a great sense of hatred toward me, based upon my devotion to the Law.  The Rapa finally finished the book off.  It went limp and then changed to look even more like a book.  Using my spell, I was able to locate several other books with minds.  I had the Rapa grab and bind all of the intelligent books.  One of the books stood out with complex thoughts and lots of knowledge.  It was also chained to its shelf.  Once we secured all of the thinking books, I examined the one that had attacked.

The dead book was a description of the six courts of the dreaded Lords of the Council of Borsh’tro-- not exactly a religious book but not exactly a book of conjuration either.  It listed the hierarchy of the people under the Council, their positions, and what favors the truly foolish could bargain for from them.  Even without its mind, it was a dangerous book, although we did not destroy it because it might be useful in gaining intelligence against our enemies.  The other most notable books were a couple of major works on demonic conjuration.  Lord Bastion’s spellbooks were not present-- tracking them down would be an important task in finding the hidden treasures of the manor.

We posted the Pachak on watches that night so the rest of us could all sleep.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (May 21, 2008)

The following morning, we performed a few last checks to make sure the manor was secure before going to meet Drakhl.  The latest round of Pachak guards reported that all was well.  It is perhaps worth mentioning that because they reported in their language, not ours, there was some possibility of error in our interpretation, but they did not seem agitated.  The eum commander also reported that his troops had finished clearing the tunnels and were withdrawing.  As we looked around, we could see that the eum had burned the bones of their own people but left the bones of the enemy for animals, goblyns, and whatever else might want them.

We set out in the direction of the dracolich’s camp.  We made some effort to make ourselves look as Shadow-like as possible-- in addition to my companions, we brought five of the Rapa and Alveera, in her succubus seeming.  From what I gather, Alveera was very convincing-- she reported later having heard some of the eum suggesting that her presence meant that Malacat, the accursed Queen of the Succubi, had taken an interest in the war.  As we walked, a very small group of undead approached--the quasi-lich, some skeletal commanders, and the dracolich itself, from whom we could feel an aura of fear radiating.

Drakhl turned his skull to face us.  “Hail, mortals.  I trust that you find the keep to your satisfaction.’

“Excellent job,” replied Twang.  If Drakhl was bothered by the tone, he covered it well.

“I know that the phylactery is not with you, because I would sense its presence.”

“We thought that bringing it across the Shadowline would expose it to those who would wish to take it,” I said.

Drakhl’s skull rotated up and down on its neckbones.  “There are those who would wish to see me destroyed or enslaved again.  You were wise to leave it where it is secure.”

“We should make haste.  The Hastur will notice eventually,” said Buzz.

“What of your minions?” I asked.  “We have followers we would like to install.”

“The eum will withdraw.  I will send them back to Dragonhold Ripgut while we march.”

We gave the orders to our people on how to secure the manor, leaving explicit instructions that no-one was to test the magical defenses and traps of the vault until we returned.  Once that was taken care of, we marched on with Lord Drakhl’s small company.  The three days of travel back to the Shadowline were uneventful.  I suspect that none of the creatures of Shadow dared to move close enough to the dracolich to be noticed.  

We crossed over immediately upon reaching the Shadowline.  It was clear that Drakhl did not trust us, but he had no choice but to let us go to fetch the phylactery and we had no choice but to leave him just on the Shadow side of the Line.  Almost immediately upon crossing the border, a wave of mental force slammed into us.  We did not even try to resist and were immediately rendered unconscious.  I later heard reports that described what happened next.  Following our plan, the Hastur appeared at the Line, ready for battle.  Drakhl frantically tried to decide what to do, but before he could take clear action, the entire force of black eum fell on his company from the rear, with their allies from the Dragonhold.  The eum succeeded in disembodying him, sending his soul rushing towards the barrier and his phylactery.  When his soul reached the Shadowline, however, the Hastur Lady happily incinerated it with a gesture of her hand and a thrust of her mind.  While the lesser undead slew a few of the eum, and the desiccating spells from the quasi-lich were fierce, the eum had a surrounding position and ample missile weapons.  Lord Drakhl’s company was completely annihilated.

We awoke to a bizarre scene.  The Hastur were throwing a party, with wine glasses and bottles of champagne, some distance back from the Line.  They had clearly moved us back along with their   Twang joins the party.  The Hastur noted that Drakhl’s destruction would leave a window while Dragonhold Ripgut is empty-- without a commander or some being that could act as a semblance of a commander, the undead there would be ineffective.  It could take months for a new lord of Shadow to arise.

Twang suggested trying to recruit the eum, and we began discussing possible next steps.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (May 24, 2008)

Session 8:

We discussed with the Hastur the consequences of moving the Shadowline.   The Keeper informed us, “If the Shadowline were moved past Ripgut, in the absence of a powerful necromancer, the lesser undead would all perish, and the greater undead would be driven back into Shadow-- either south or east towards Greatclaw.  There was an old Circle, called Circle Treehaven, to the south that could be used as a node to shift the Shadowline.  The area around that circle has been less devastated by the Dhoyles and Demon Lords  than most of the areas in Caldefor.”  The Keeper paused, lost in thought.  She continued quietly.   “Before the intaking, there was an even an ent that made its home there.”

“What happened to it?” I asked.

“We do not know for sure.  When it was last seen, it was still fighting, but that was at the time of the intaking.  By now--who knows?  It could have gone crazy.  If it still lives, it might even be tainted, but I can’t imagine that it still lives.”

“What would be necessary to reactivate Circle Treehaven?”  asked Buzz.

“The Great Matrix of Treehaven was withdrawn during the retreat, but the lesser matrices remain.  One would need to transport the Great Matrix to the Circle, remove the faux from the apex, and put the Great Matrix back in its place,” answered the Hastur.  “Once the Great Matrix was restored, we would be able to aport to the Tower and reassert both its defenses and the Shadowline.”

We discussed this possibility and agreed that we were ready to move the Shadowline.  The Keeper gave us an “Instructor”-- a small psionically active sphere that would be able to activate the Great Matrix once it was in place.

At that point, one of the staff of the Circle approached the Hastur.  “Shield Mechanic Twiddletoes with a report, m’lady.  A small group of the eums have crossed under the line, and seem to be scouting the town-- not more than a half dozen.  They have not taken any offensive action yet.”

“Probably looking for us,” said Sideh.  “They would be grateful for our assistance in destroying the dracolich but concerned that we were captured by the Hastur.”

“Then we should let them ‘rescue’ us,” said Buzz.  “But how would we do that without risking the lives of guards?”

“Gibbets,” I said.  “If we are suspended in gibbets as if we were being left to die of exposure, they could plausibly leave the area unguarded at night.  It would be foolishness for actual guards to leave prisoners undefended, but I think that the forces of Shadow will accept it.  They will then presumably sneak in to release us.”

The others quickly agreed.  Fortunately, this Keeper was one of the most sane and sophisticated we had dealt with.  Most of the Hastur, from what I understand, would be incapable of following a plan of deception such as this, but she understood what we planned and ordered her captain to make the appropriate preparations.  And so that evening, the guards locked us in suspended steel cages and then left us unguarded.  The cages were old and worn-- I suspect that they had not been used in about fifty years.  Sometimes our Tarkenian allies reveal how soft they are.  But they still had functioning locks, and the guards locked them closed and removed the keys.  They carefully positioned a wheelbarrow, the Great Matrix for Circle Treehaven, and our weapons and equipment in a nearby shed.  Then they left us dressed in rags, the cages swinging quietly in the wind and as we shifted, as night began to fall.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (May 29, 2008)

Not long after dark, a figure faded out of the shadow next to the cages.  The eum, for that is what it was, slipped discreetly over to our gibbets.  One at a time, the eum carefully unlocked each of the cage doors, taking about ten minutes total.  He then backed up and gestured to us.  We quietly dropped out of our cages, and Twang gestured to the storehouse.  The lock took him a while, but eventually he opened it.  We hurried in, grabbed our equipment, and put the blackened filigreed mithril matrix screen in a wheelbarrow.  He lead us back to where the rest of the eum were hiding-- another six, including one we took to be some sort of leader, as he had previously been seen hanging by Zolt.  The officer or shaman had tiny dragonscales by the muzzle.  They gestured at a small tunnel under the Shadowline, with one of the eum leading the way through either to reassure us in case of danger.  We pushed the wheelbarrow across the line above ground-- it is inanimate and could not set off any of the defenses-- and then wriggled through ourselves, crossing the way that foul creatures of Shadow do.

The Eum shaman breathed a deep sigh of relief once the last of the eum had crossed.  He carefully picked out in clear but stilted Common, “Zolt said we should help.”

“Thank you,” said Twang.

“You help us.  We help you.  It is the honor of the Dragon.”  The shaman looked back at the Shadowline, clearly unnerved by its proximity.  “We must draw far from the Light-Dark.  Come.  Zolt is of two minds.”

They led us off towards their camp.  The main body of eums had drawn back about a mile from the border and set up a very well-defended encampment.  We saw a rare sight in Shadow:  the eums were carefully tending their wounded.

I asked the shaman, “Do all black eums treat their wounded?”

“Of course,” he responded.  “It is the way of the Dragon.  We are not like others.”  He said that last sentence with almost palpable distaste.  He then pointed to a command tent.  “Zolt be there, with his lieutenants, plotting.”

At the tent, two black eums stood guard outside, but they bared their teeth and then held the tent flap up as we approached.  As the shaman had said, Zolt and three others of the largest of the black eums had a huge map spread out on the table.  He clapped his hands when he sees us.  “Good.  You live.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Yes.  The Light-Dark is not a place to go willingly, but by leading him there, you allowed us to punish him for the destruction of our Lord.”

“We were happy to help with your revenge.”

“Not revenge,” Zolt said.  “Justice.”  Zolt directed our attention to the map, which showed Dragonhold Ripgut and the disposition of undead forces within and around it.  “We must discuss how to reach the leaders of the treacherous undead-- there are twenty who are dangerous.  We can destroy them, but only if we can develop a plan to reach them without being bogged down fighting the lesser undead.”

“We help!” said Twang, baring his teeth.  

Zolt bared his in response, pleased.  “That is good.  If we cannot find a way to destroy them, we will swear allegiance to you.  We would not throw away our lives for something that cannot be retaken.”

Ironically, had we truly been of Shadow, that might have made us want to fail to find a viable strategy in the interest of adding the eums to our forces.  As it was, however, destroying the remaining forces at Dragonhold Ripgut remained a key step in redeeming Caldefor.  And while I was beginning to ponder whether the black eums were less naturally chaotic than other eums, such that they might be converted to Lord Paranswarm’s service, we still believed that pressing the attack on the Dragonhold outweighed any other goal.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jun 5, 2008)

Sorry for the delay-- real life got a little complicated.  Posts should be regular from now on.

------
Zolt pointed at a high chamber on the map.  “Here is where Lord Drakhl used to stand.  His under-liches and-- more importantly-- his vampire knight will gather there.  We must enter the compound and reach the third level with our numbers intact.  The vampire in particular is very powerful.”

“How many would you send in?” asked Sideh.

“Myself, the shaman, and half of my knights,” answered Zolt definitively.  “The rest would hold the line against the lesser liches.”

“Can we lure the vampire out?”

“The vampire will not leave the chamber of command now that his master is dead.  The lesser lich with Lord Drakhl had time to send a message before we slew him.”

“Does the vampire have a casket that he would defend?”

“Casket?”  Zolt looked blank.  “I do not know.  Call for Abedoc.”

One of the lieutenants stepped out of the command tent and returned a short while later with the shaman.

Zolt looked at the shaman.  “The vampire?  Caskets?”

“Of course, my lord.  They must have such things.  It is their nature.”

“Why did I not know?”

“You did not ask.”

“Where are his caskets?”

“I do not know fully, my lord.”

“With them, we could manipulate him.”

“I know that he keeps one in the antechamber next to his chamber of command.  I do not know where the others are.”

“How could we find out where his others are?”

“He could have up to four, my lord.  No one knows where the others are.”

Zolt scowled at this and stared at the map, as if he could divine their locations through concentration alone.

I asked another question.  “Do they know Lord Drakhl was destroyed and not driven to the phylactery?”

“Probably not,” replied Zolt.  “They would need to have known that his phylactery was still on the farside of the Light-Dark.  I do not know how they would have known that.”

“Then if your army has the phylactery, they will have to sally forth to meet you.”

“Yes, but the phylactery is still in the bright lands.”

“We know where it is.  We should be able to recover it and bring it back to your army.”

“Ah.  Good.  Then you will go and bring the phylactery across.  We will then draw the vampire forth with its master’s remnant.”  Zolt gestured to one of his guards.  “Here.  Take these vials—they will help.  One sip will render each of you invisible for twenty minutes.”  The lieutenant gave one vial to Twang and one to me, and we set forth towards the Shadowline.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jun 9, 2008)

While we were back on the Tarkenian side of the Shadowline, we procured some supplies that would be helpful in assaulting the Dragonhold.  Twang located a wand of fly, and we sent Alveera to try to procure the wand on the Hastur’s credit.  She bluffed the merchant perfectly, convincing him that she was entirely righteous.  She seemed slightly aggrieved to have failed to completely seduce him, but she did persuade him to sell her the wand on credit at less than she should have paid in cash. Spring also bought a scroll of resist energy.

With our preparations completed and having regained the now meaningless phylactery, we dashed back to the Eum army at full speed.  We then traveled steadily towards Dragonhold Ripgut, along with the Eums.  We decided not to fetch our army or this operation—the combination of the risks inherent in delay and the danger that our army would interact poorly with the Eums rendered it too dangerous.  

Without much difficulty, we reached the outskirts of the Dragonhold.  It took us five days to get there.  We cast some divinations on the march, partly to confirm some of our suspicions.  The black Eums did not detect as chaos; indeed, about a third of them detected as lawful to varying degrees.  The shaman was particularly lawful, and Zolt shone with the same aura of Law as a paladin would have.  Each night, they opened up a case with every representation of a dragon they had ever managed to find.  I looked carefully and spotted a holy symbol of Vitrix-Henoxi, the great two-headed dragon saint of Lord Paranswarm, in the box.  I asked if I could worship with them, as they venerated a saint that I also know to be holy, and they happily agreed.  I read the holy stories of Vitrix-Henoxi from my Lives of the Saints.  I also sent Alveera to toss a written message across the Shadowline asking for a priest of Vitrix-Henoxi to be sent across to try to convert a group of largely lawful Eum followers of Vitrix-Henoxi who did not serve Paranswarm.  With their natural veneration of Order and their devotion to one of the Lord of Orderly Darkness’s saints, they would make natural converts, and that opportunity was worth quite some risk.

We held up about a mile outside the fortress proper, while Spring and a spell cast by Twang scouted the Dragonhold.  [This is inaccurate.  In fact, Twang sent his familiar, Snaggletooth the quasit, forward as a scout.]   Our scouting revealed no sign of the Chaos Champion or her lamias—indeed, we detected no sign of anything alive in there anymore.  The fairly substantial number of living servants and slaves prior to Ripgut’s death now appeared to be missing.  Twang noted that here and there the shadows and wraiths lay interwoven with a piece of physical material.  Lesser undead occupied the scouting positions, facing out from the fortress.  The courtyard showed the signs of sinister activity. A group of banefires—purplish-tinged, pale white illumination sources that consume no fuel, usually powered by a link to the negative material plane-- had been placed around the periphery, and a large vat of a pale white fluid bubbled in the courtyard’s center.  

Spring thought that fluid was dilute bone marrow, which is used for various necromantic rituals although neither of us knew what specific ritual this might be.  The vat was about a quarter full.  He did not spot any new undead outside the fortress, but if the vat really contained dilute bone marrow, any undead created from the same people would be incorporeal.  Their bodies would not have survived the rendering process.  Spring flew around the inside of the much less occupied fortress.  A couple of larders had been rehung with deboned goblyns.  He did not see a single living thing.  He did note a slightly larger number of incorporeal undead, mostly shadows and a few wraiths, with a goblynish cast to their features, but the increase was not significant.  

Spring approached the command center on the top level of the central keep or tower, a large square room where Ripgut dwelt before.  Drakhl’s room was outside it.  Now, in its center, a humanoid figure stood, or perhaps floated.  The figure was fairly elegant, dressed in evening wear, with a long slender dueling blade hanging at his waist.  Spring recognized him as Sir Irving Totten, a well-known duelist who killed at least twenty men on the dueling circuit.  He had an intense look of concentration as he communed with something-- a much more intense look than Ripgut had ever had, which may have indicated that Sir Irving was having more trouble with whatever he was doing.  Four of the healthiest looking goblyns were chained against the wall.  A flutter of noncorporeal undead came and went while Spring watched, and four doughty looking undead stood by the wall-- with flesh, weapons, armor, but clearly undead.  Periodically, a figure much like the quasi-lich we saw passed in, talked briefly, and then headed out.  Spring identified one of the noncorporeal undead as a ghost, but the rest were wraiths.  He also concluded that some form of abyssal spirits were bound to the structure, giving Sir Irving reports.

Spring concluded that most of the quasi-liches were necromancers, but relatively minor ones.  The remaining quasi-liches appeared to be wizards-- Spring searched around trying to find their spellbooks.  Within their private chambers, he actually witnessed the deaths of the last wave of the goblyns.  The quasi-liches ritually slaughtered them, preserving the meat, removing the bones, rendering the bones for the marrow, and then performing a ritual while adding it to the vat.  They had a great book, intelligent and malevolent, open and were following its instructions.  The ritual spontaneously created a few incorporeal undead, but its true intent was clearly to open a temporary gate to the negative material plane to bring forth one of the great beasts that live there.  They sought to bring across a negative material lord—at present, they did not have enough marrow, but even a minor lord would give them clout to counter the loss of power from the destruction of both Ripgut and Drakhl.  The necromancers were discussing luring in a tribe of Goblyns or Trueborn to supplement their prior victims.  

Neither Spring nor Twang’s scouting showed any sign of Lord Ripgut’s succubi or other demon types.  The succubi may have been bound to him but then returned to the Abyss when he was destroyed.  In any event, that was one threat that we would likely not need to deal with.

Back at the army, Twang told Zolt and the shaman that he could make the strike team able to fly.

Zolt was suitably impressed.  “The blessings of the Dragon are with us if you can give the gift of the Dragon for us to fly to them.”

Zolt put the casket with the phylactery in a cart, with flag bearers carrying two tattered dragon banners.  He carefully opened the casket, so the phylactery itself was visible inside.  The Eum army drew near and paraded the phylactery.  The undead almost certainly recognized the trap, but they almost had to fall for it.  They fired some boneshard cannons to soften up the army, and then the entire horde sallied forth to meet us, led by the knight with the ghost in tow and his immediate guard with them.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jun 11, 2008)

Both sides fought fiercely in the large, pitched battle.  The Eum shaman rebuked the undead, while the rank-and-file Eum engaged the foe in a grand melee.

The vampire knight led the undead charge, rushing straight towards the phylactery.  Zolt and some of his most enthusiastic knights met the enemy in a brutal fight—even with the vampire having rushed into battle without adequate preparation, his capabilities outmatched Zolt’s.  I snuck close to the fight and cast a Maximized Extended _Demon Dirge_.  [This is probably a broken combination—the combination of Sudden metamagic feats and a spell which has two numeric variables resulted in an attack that inflicted 12 hp/round for 11 rounds.]  Several of my companions also pressed the vampire knight with energy missiles and magic missiles.  With the support of our spells, it became clear that we would prevail.  

The ghost hurried in to try to assist its master, but Spring was able to lure it off by shooting it with needfire from his crossbow, which could still harm an incorporeal foe, unlike most of the Eum weapons.  The ghost then charged at Spring, a fatal mistake.  He was able to lead it further away, whittling away with _magic missiles_.  A budding Eum sorcerer adopted the same tactic while Sideh lobbed in holy water—consecrated to Glor’diadel, not to the Lord of Orderly Darkness, but still effective against a Shadow creature.  Finally, Sideh’s last vial of holy water destroyed the ghost.

Meanwhile, after more than a minute of battle, the vampire fell to Zolt’s sword and our spells.  It dissolved into dust and a flick of light through the surrounding shadow as it departed.  All of us except Spring and Sideh pursued the gaseous vampire while Zolt and his Eums concentrated on the remaining corporeal undead. Somewhat surprisingly, it did not head towards the Dragonhold.  We followed and followed, out into the countryside as the form entered a cleft in the rocky ground.  It traveled down quite far—about 300 feet-- to a casket at the bottom of the chasm.  We carefully lowered ourselves down and forced open the casket to find the still body of the vampire.  We chopped off its head, burned the head, and then buried the ashes.  Based on my knowledge of the undead, that should be sufficient to destroy it permanently.  We then returned, by which point the Dragonhold had fallen to our forces fully.

The Eums had been outnumbered nearly four to one, because there were only about 150 Eums left at the beginning of the battle.  Nonetheless, they were much more disciplined and stronger than the corporeal undead.  The battle inflicted heavy casualties on our erstwhile allies, but they had triumphed completely, leaving the undead mostly dead and with any survivors routed and scattered.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jun 15, 2008)

As we returned from finishing the task of destroying the vampire, the Eum shaman approached Sideh, while Zolt stood nearby.  “It is said you are holy.”

“Yes.”

“You will help with the vat?”

“I will.”

“Many are unquiet that this thing has been done.  Such things should not be.  It is good that their master betrayed the great Ripgut that he might be destroyed.  There are no cleansing words that I know to the dragon that are enough.”

Sideh nodded.  “I think that a burial ritual would be enough to quiet most of the dead and to lay to rest the undead spirits that wish their bodies attended to properly.”

The shaman turned to his commander.  “Mighty Zolt.  I agree with the foreigner.  If we bury them, and show them the honor of the dragon for what they have undergone, they will leave us in peace.”

“Let it be done, then.”

The shaman turned back to Sideh.  “Can this wait for the morrow?  I would like to treat the wounded first if we have time?”

Sideh thought carefully before answering.  “Before the morrow would be best, but it can wait while we treat the wounded.”

“It would be best to do it at night, anyway,” I pointed out.  After all, Lord Paranswarm’s influence on the world is strongest at night.  The twilight hours offer too much possibility to the Shadow.

While the shaman began healing the surviving Eums, Zolt approached our group.  “We cannot hold this place.  But we must take the supplies, and empty the armory, before we go.”

“Where will you go?” asked Buzz.

“I do not know, but we cannot stay here.  We are far too weak to hold this place.”

Seeing an opportunity, I spoke up at that moment.  “If you will serve Vitrix-Henoxi fully, we will protect you.  This path will not be easy, but if you follow it, you will find strength, protection, and a clear place in which to live in order.”

“Vitrix-Henoxi?” Zolt called over the shaman.  “What is this Vitrix-Henoxi he speaks of?”

“It is an aspect of the Dragon they favor.”

“Indeed.  Vitrix-Henoxi is the mightiest and most holy of all the dragon saints.  If you will accept him as your patron, we will be able to ensure your safety.”

Zolt paused and then spoke definitively.  “Very well.  We will enter your service and pledge ourselves to that aspect of the Dragon.”

Truly, I rejoice in having been given the role of guiding a small army of Eums into the service of the Orderly Darkness.  They will be a formidable force to redeem Caldefor.  They also offer the possibility of serving as a wedge to draw in ever more of the black Eums.

We began the process of ransacking the Dragonhold—an effort made more difficult by the fact that there were only 40 able-bodied Eums left, although over a hundred wounded still survived.  The armory was well appointed, but entirely mundane-- 500 swords, 450 crossbows, 600 pikes, and 400 sets of the worst armor we have ever seen, probably intended as armor for Eums.  Among the more interesting mundane equipment were two field portable catapults, along with 10 spheres for each catapult.  The spheres contained a white gas that would cause severe cramping and then death.  We also recovered 20 decent shields, each bearing the arms of one of the Caldeforian great houses.  Finally, we recovered a huge number of bolts from the armory-- something like 3000, although we did not have the opportunity to inventory them precisely.  The bolts were decent in quality.

A more interesting haul waited for us under a secret floor panel in the room where Ripgut sat.  One of the Eums opened the panel, revealing an enormous treasure-- a grand total of about 25,000 silver and four massive pieces of jewelry, the values of which were far beyond our ability to even estimate.  We also found an enormous bandoleer with four vials in it.  Each vial contained a potion, with one a potion of biding—a most useful elixir, traditionally used by conjurers to bind a more powerful creature than the wizard could usually control—and another a potion of prismatic spray.  The prismatic spray potion was the most powerful I had ever seen; after drinking it, it allows its user to vomit forth a prismatic spray, with all of the destructive capability of the spell, although if it is not discharged within half an hour, it will discharge in the user’s stomach with almost-certainly fatal results.  We could not identify the other two potions, but if they are anything like the first two in power, they will be most useful.  Off to one side lay a carelessly placed bracelet set with five massive amber stones, each of which glowed in a subtly different shade.  Buzz recognized that as a testing bracelet-- it tests for each of the five guilds of psionic power. 

We searched the treasure chamber carefully and found a secret door hidden in one corner of the treasure chamber.  As soon as we touched that panel, a sudden roar of presence filled the room and three squat, runny figures appeared in front of us.  I recognized them at once as nupperibo, sometimes referred to as least demons, and commanded Alveera to kill them.

We all blasted away at them with our weapons and magic, and a few moments later they had been dispatched back to the Abyss.  Sideh did suffer a nasty gash on his arm that showed some signs of infection, but nothing that could not be healed readily.

Spring tried to poke his head through the panel but had difficulty putting his head through, despite his incorporeality.  He then signaled for the rest of us to stand well back and carefully opened it using his ghost-touch gloves.  As it opened, a horde of coin-sized spiders poured out and ran through his form.  Spring flew straight up away from them and unleashed an elemental burst where he had been, wiping them out.  He then reached into the small compartment and found one of the most lovely tooled leather pouches we had ever seen, with runes in a strange language none of us could recognize worked across it.  We also found a sealed scroll embedded in the abdomen of a spider and a short adamantine rod, which glowed softly.  We added these to the items we recovered from the vampire—a fine masterwork sword of an adamantine and steel alloy, but not magicked, presumably because that would violate dueling rules, along with a cravat of graceful movement [that adds 4 to the user’s Dex for 10 rounds/day].

We recovered several spellbooks.  The dracolich’s spellbook was the easiest to locate because of its 3 foot by 5 foot size, but the others were not well concealed.  As a final step, we scanned through the whole fortress using detect magic effects and were rewarded with a Ring of Prescience [that adds a +1 insight bonus to attack rolls] and a jar of Keoughtum’s ointment, with 2 doses.

While we took care of that search, the Eums stripped the keep.  Everything they could not carry was slashed or assembled into great piles in the courtyard and burned.  They also began sapping the walls—a fast process from the inside.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jun 18, 2008)

Session 9:

7 Vaen

We spent the night in the Dragonhold.  The able-bodied Eums sapped the walls while we slept, and we demolished the hold in the morning.

As we prepared to travel, the Eums made preparations to move all of the wounded who could survive, placing them on sleds for easier transportation.  I helped some of the badly wounded survive the travel by casting _False Life_ on them.  The shaman euthanized the Eums that would not be able to survive, including the dozen or so with taint. In an impressive display of discipline and devotion to Order, none of the Eums, even the tainted ones, resisted being killed.  We burned the bodies of the Eums with taint, using tapestries and furniture from the Dragonhold as fuel.

Over the next four days, we made the journey back to the manor we had seized from Bastion.  The Eum army was still large enough, even with the casualties, that nothing approached our group closely enough to spot on the trip.  We arrived on 11 Vaen.

Our people continued to occupy the area around the manor, but none of them had entered the manor itself.  However, the day before we returned, a strange tent had appeared among the Pachak without warning.

The pavilion stood out obviously as we approached.  Rather than being one of the Pachak’s tents, or one of the rough, thrown-together style of tents often seen in the Shadow, this was a large, elaborate purple tent, of a thick material, with glowing stars on the outside.  The pavilion had an awning, which sheltered two rubbery-looking, mostly naked men with long-swords slung over their back.  The two “men,” although I surmised that they were actually demons, looked like harem guards.

A large steel table also stood under the awning, set with crystal, a decanter of wine, and enough chairs for all of us plus one.  We approached the table and sat.

The decanter floated upwards and poured a rich-looking wine into each glass.  A woman, remarkably beautiful except for the black, leathery wings sprouting from her back, stepped forth from veils behind the awning. She minced over to the table, her thin silk clothing swaying in a way at once revealing and concealing.  “A toast to your success.”

I recognized that she was, without question, a high-ranking succubus.  The harem guards suggested that she was not a noble in her own right but was instead the wife of an Abyssal power.  I also inferred from the stars on her pavilion and some of her accoutrements that she was a sorceress, but I could not identify her specifically.  I mimed drinking but was careful to not actually touch any wine from a demon.

“Your victory is an inspiration to us all,” she added as she sat in the head chair.

“So what brings you to our camp?” asked Spring.

“To celebrate your victory, and the additional victories you will have.  It will set back the predilections of some of the local lords.  Trying to conquer this plane is folly-- we have six-hundred-sixty-six of our own, and this plane will continue to supply us with souls without our dominion”

“We are surprised to see you here, nonetheless,” I said.  “You rarely take such a direct interest.”

“Indeed.  The 469th layer is very far from here.  We are rarely called on to supply troops, and even more rarely to provide supplies.  Still, in light of your successes, it seemed worthwhile.”  The succubus’s voice became more business-like, although it retained the dangerously seductive undertone.  “Be forewarned:  Sargeantanis has seen your actions.  He is coming.  He believes that by capitalizing upon your actions here, he can displace utterly the forces that presently hold this territory.  Not the capital or the inner part, of course, but the area where we are sitting.  He even believes he can win the loyalty of Sarconis the Chaos Champion.  I do not know if he can, but he believes so.  He has gathered his army and marches.  It would be to your advantage to establish that pesky little psionic barrier before he has established control of the territory.”

Alveera whispered to me, as if in my ear, “She is Urkobona, the wife of Urkobach the Tyrant.”  [Konrad did not realize there was anything amiss, but Alveera struggled with her divided loyalty before aiding him—his binding proved stronger than her loyalty to the Abyss.]

“That is useful intelligence, Urkobona,” I said.

She smiled in response.  “Ah, so you did recognize me.  I am glad—it would have been so tedious to have needed to report that you did not.”

“Who would dare to not recognize the consort of Urkobach the Tyrant?”

“Indeed, he does get so angry at such slights.  Since you know who I am, perhaps you would like to visit my library at some point?  You would be most welcome.”

“I cannot.  It is forbidden to consort with such as you.”

She waived her hand airily.  “Such a tiresome ordnance.  You might find things better—certainly more exciting—if you looked beyond it.  I could grant so much in exchange for your souls, or even a portion of your souls.”

“No.   I have a prior commitment.  And the Church does not suffer to live those who would sell you even the tiniest portion of their souls,” I added in case any of my companions might waver.

She rubbed a fingernail across Sideh’s cheek.  “And you, my quiet priest?”

“Yes?”

“Well, you know there is knowledge to be gained of the divine, of hope as well as of fear, and there is the deepest knowledge to be gained, the knowledge of yourself.”

Sideh stiffened and refused with a firmness that approached my own.

[For the next month, Sideh’s dreams would be tormented by visions of her, and he would suffer a -1 to all Will saves due to exhaustion.  He would get another save in 30 days.  Despite himself, he was totally distracted and besotted.  Konrad did not notice at all.]

Urkobona rose from the table.  Her people packed up the tent carefully but rapidly.  She also flirted with Sideh outrageously at every opportunity.

“I hope the information I’ve given you will help you all.  We must return now to my husband’s court, but I will be… no, I won’t be praying for you, will I?”  Her smile was damnably insidious.  “But I hope you succeed.”  They strode off and she brushed past Sideh as she went.  Within twenty feet, she had shimmered out of the plane entirely.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jun 21, 2008)

My companions and I discussed what to do in light of the information Urkobona had provided us.  Both Sideh and I recognized the name Sargeantanis.  We have heard him listed among the many bastard offspring of Gnnnst; according to legend, Sargeantanis’s mother was a black dragon.  He is about the equivalent of a demonic knight, although we could not be sure how much of that status was a courtesy because of his birth and how much was a representation of his true power.

Even if Sargeantanis was at the bottom of the plausible power range we could estimate for him, he still represented a serious threat to our efforts to establish an area of Caldefor beyond the Shadow.  If he were in the area that would be beyond the new Shadowline, especially if he had an army with him, we might be unable to move the Shadowline at all.  After some discussion, we agreed to head directly to the Circle.  Breaking into the treasury at Lord Bastion’s manor could wait, whereas we now had a pressing need to reach the Circle before Sargeantanis reached the remnants of Dragonhold Ripgut.  We also decided to bring the fifty Rappa, and three of the Rakshasa—the paladin, the wizard, and a redactor, as well as all 120 of the human mercenaries and the wagon with the matrix.  We left the Pachaks and the Eums at the manor, along with the Trueborn and the priest and a redactor from the Rakshasa to cure the surviving Eums.

We made the best speed we could manage en route to the fallen Circle.  We met no difficulties for the first two days, but forces of Shadow attacked us without warning on the third day.  Some of the humans at the edges of the column suddenly started sinking into the ground.  We had operated in Shadow long enough to be able to infer what that meant:  a yellow eum attack.  Sideh rode over to the area of the attack, giving orders to the rest of our troops, and yelling back to us that he estimated that about 100 eums had attacked.  I summoned a fiendish dire weasel and sent it down one of the holes.  It would not be able to kill many yellow eums, but it was one of the few things I could do that had any likelihood of working.  The Rappa grabbed some of the sinking mercenaries and began flapping their wings, hauling them up despite the yellow eums.  By this point it was clear that we were under attack from both sides.

Spring then cast an impressive _Major Image_.  He created the illusion of a large school of thoqqua burrowing through the ground to attack the eums.  About three-quarters of the eums on that side released the people they were attempting to pull down.  Most fled, but we later found the unmarked corpse of one of the yellow eums—apparently, Spring frightened it to death.  The Rakshasa psion engaged the eums on the other side, unleashing a powerful a mind blast directly through the ground that concealed the attackers.  He killed one eum outright, another three continued dragging their victims down, and otherwise complete quiet reigned on that side.  With only a handful of eum still attacking, we could concentrate our efforts on hauling the rest of the people up.  The ultimate butcher’s bill was not bad, especially in light of the size of the force we faced.  Two men were carried off, and about two dozen more had been injured.  The redactor checked for taint and found that five of the human mercenaries were tainted.  With a redactor and a supply of skin, it would be trivial to remove the taint once we reached an area where we could rest and wrap them in skin.  The paladin and Sideh were able to heal the rest, at least to the point where they could continue without delaying us.

In the middle of that night, the Rakshasa paladin relayed a report to Spring.  “It is reported to me, esteemed one, that we are being watched from without the camp.”

“By?”

“Apparently green eums.  A small band-- a scouting party, I suspect.  There are reports of four, roughly at the cardinal points.”

“But that’s just what we have seen.  Might there be more waiting?”

“The Rappa have reasonable night vision.  I see no reason to doubt their report.”

Spring ordered the rest of us awakened.  Sideh and I explained that the great danger from green eums is the spread of disease.  They are the servants of Orugub, but they carry the diseases of their mother, Malya.  In most of the world, the Compact limits their threat, but in Shadow, they can cause a plague.  If they returned with a substantial force, we would be all but doomed—even if we slew them, they would likely infect enough of our troops to destroy our force over time.

We headed out to ambush one, while the Rakshasa guarded the other directions.  If we could pick them off individually, it would likely be easy enough

Spring shot our target twice with his crossbow before it could respond at all, although Sideh missed twice with his bow.  The eum hurled a thin triangular object at Spring—his throw would have had deadly effect against most people, but passed right through Spring because of his incorporeality.  The fiendish ape I summoned appeared a moment after the eum’s attack and finished it off.

Unfortunately, the other three eums saw the engagement-- they twirled and ran off.  Sideh shot one, and our wizard followed up with enough magic missiles to kill it.  I ordered the Rappa to overfly the remaining two and to attack with javelins.  They could not possibly survive an attack of nearly two dozen javelins each.  Fortunately, we killed them all without any wounds or melee.  We ordered all of our troops to remain in camp and to not approach the corpses.

The rest of the night passed peacefully.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jun 29, 2008)

The following day, while we were on the march, one of the Rappa scouts returned to inform us of a column moving perpendicular to our path.

“A column of what?” I asked.

“The dead that walk.”

“How many?”

“A foot of foots of foots of foots.”  I checked quickly to confirm that Rappa have five talons on each foot, and then calculated that total as 625—well more than we would want to fight if we could avoid it.

“How close will they pass?” asked Sideh.  “And how quickly are they moving?”

“Two hops,” squawked the scout, which based on the Rappa’s flight patterns would be about 100 to 120 feet.  “They plod steadily-- they will be here soon.”

We quickly gave orders to find hiding places and crouched behind dunes to wait for them to pass.  Spring flew up to watch.  He later reported seeing a collection of skeletons and zombies, stiffened with some ghouls, lurching along in an organized column.  Several wraiths floated above them.  Spring counted seven wraiths before one of them headed towards him.

“Hail, cousin,” the wraith rasped.

“Hail.  Where are you headed with these things?”

“We are crossing the waste, passing into the mountains, returning as it were to the Count.”  Spring interpreted that, along with his observation, as indicating that they were heading eastwards.

“What mission were you on?”

“We cleaned up a small band of resistance, near the old laboratory, southeast of the fallen place we do not name.  There are still insect warriors here and there, with their insect jewels.  We lost many-- 400 of us fell. But a full star of them won’t rise again.”  

That description implied phraints who owed allegiance to the Orange Mage.  A star would be a commander and four drones.

“Do you know your way to Dragonhold Blackgleam?” asked Spring.

“Yes.”

“You should reinforce that area to prepare for a counter-feint.  They may have been trying to draw you out of position.  They have already moved at Ripgut.”  Because Dragonhold Blackgleam had fallen to our bonewater dust, Spring hoped to send the undead to their destruction.

The wraith sneered.  “That fool Ripgut might fall, but Blackgleam demonstrates more commonsense than Ripgut has ever had.  He will not fall to such as they.  Word will be sent to him to watch the North.  We will report this to the Seneschal as well.”

“Who is your immediate superior?”

“I answer to the Seneschal via the Chaos Champion Sudenay.”

Spring nodded and remained where he was as they continued on.  As they passed, he noted a dozen shadows among the wraiths.

After narrowly avoiding the undead army, we traveled for two more uneventful days, bringing us to within a day’s travel of the Circle.  That night, a sense of chill settled over the camp.

Spring cast _see invisibility_ and flew up over the camp.  As he flew, he felt the chill increasing.  A female, diaphanously robed, pale figure watched the camp, floating in the air.  He noted that she was watching primarily the humans.  Occasionally her eyes flipped over to someone else, but she ignored the Rappas entirely.

Spring concluded that she was a ghost and caught her attention.  “What brings you here?”

“I watch your companions.  They are warm.  I ponder why you are here.”

“Why are you here?”

“This is my place.  This is where I was slain.  This is where I am bound.”

“Who killed you? Do you wish to leave?”

“Rest is not for I.  Not until the fall of all things, or the fall of Shadow.”

“Will you help us bring about that rest for you?”

“Do you have any idea of the price for failure?”

Spring shrugged and gestured for her to follow, leading her to meet with the rest of us.  “Perhaps the end of your binding is closer than you think.”

“Your group is so warm.  It distracts me.”  The ghost appeared tormented.  “Helping would cause nought but pain, pain so exquisite that it could not be endured.  And yet…”

“We would ease your pain if we could,” replied Sideh.

“There is a beast within the tower.  I know what lies covered on the cart.  But I will tell no-one that it is here.”

“What beast?” I asked.

“A thing that devours all comers.”  She paused.  “It is mighty.  I could slay it, but then if you nonetheless failed, they would know it was I.”

“We would not fail,” I said resolutely.

“How would they know it was you, anyway?” asked Spring.

“There are those who know its name-- if they came by, they would know.”

“How would you kill the beast?” I asked.

“By my word-- the same way that I would destroy your army if I were not uncertain.”  She looked over at Sideh.  “You are a priest?”

“Yes.”

“Of what god?”

“Of the Lord of Light, Glor’diadel.”

“Will you swear that you will find my remains and lay them to rest?”

“To the best of my ability, I will.”

“Then I will use the word that I gained in my death to destroy the beast.  After that, it will be up to you.”

She directed us to a small stone manor house nearby.  She describes the beast, part human, and part demon.  Sideh guessed that it might be a cambion, but her description implied that it was very powerful in any event.  We found the manor easily, and quickly found what we took to be her bones-- she apparently died defending a crib.  A small body lay in the crib with an ugly curvy dagger stabbed through it.  Sideh solemnly buried both sets of bones, intoning funeral rites as he did so.  They were not proper Paranswarmian rites, but it was well that the bodies received some requiem.

The ghost spoke again.  “Thank you.  I will go now.”  We later learned that even her mighty power only sufficed to half-slay the cambion, destroying part of its nature but leaving the rest for us.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jul 6, 2008)

A long post to make up for the delay:

Session 10:

17 Vaen

We proceeded directly onwards to the tower of Circle Treehaven.  The ground rose slightly as we approached from the northeast.  After we crested the small rise, we could see the Tower along with various walls, buildings, and other supporting structures.  Immediately around the Tower, a substantial amount of greenery still grew, consisting entirely of the familiar bushes with small red berries that seem most resistant to Shadow and last the longest.

All of that was as we expected, but we also saw a substantial encampment of perhaps 50 small tents surrounding a pavilion in a cleared area near the tower.  The encampment looked recent—I estimated that it had been established within the past two days or so.  Several banners waved over the various tents, all showing variants of a wyvern as heraldry.  The wyvern banners almost certainly indicated that this was Sergeantanis’s force, and a personal banner next to the pavilion suggested that Sergeantanis was there in person.

Our force was too large to hide, and we had been approaching too directly.  Shortly after cresting the ridge, we saw some activity in the encampment, and an armored figure rode out on a skeletal horse.  The figure had a knightly bearing and looked as much like a true member of an organized military as any one we had seen in shadow.  He drew up his horse in front of us and looked us over.

Twang stepped forward.  “I am the mighty Lord Twang and these are my companions.”

While Twang’s title was entirely fictitious, presenting a bluff of being a powerful Shadow force seemed most likely to displace Sergeantanis without a fight we could easily lose.  I glowered at the knight.  “Lord Twang does not appreciate those who intrude in his lands without permission.”

“Wait here.  I will summon my lord to speak with you directly.”

A large scaly humanoid emerged from the main pavilion and mounted a nightmare.  The nightmare’s back sagged under the enormous weight, but it resolutely cantered forward.

The huge warrior held up his hand.  “Hail Lord Twang, Butcher of the Weak.  You have destroyed the Devourer of Souls?”

“Yes,” said Twang.  We were not certain who the Devourer of Souls was, but denying responsibility would have been a mistake.

“And the sorcerer as well?”

“Yes.”  Twang pulled his lips back to show a feral grin.

“Well then.  Do you intend to hold both the dragonhold and the manor?”

“I intend to hold the manor.  I have not decided on the dragonhold yet.”

Sergeantanis, as we presumed the rider to be, nodded.  “Let us have wine and discuss these things.”

We brought out wine and food, and he dismounted to the visible relief of his nightmare.  I detected magic to evaluate his power, and concluded that at least his equipment was mighty.  The armor was not dwarven work—in fact, it reminded me the most of Lord Varlin’s armor—but I would estimate that it was the equivalent of dwarven heavy fortification plate.  Sergeantanis’s principal weapon, a dangerous looking, three-headed horseman’s mace, radiated very powerful magic, perhaps even more so than the armor.  He may have also had some minor items, but I think they were lost in comparison to the greater auras.

“Now, Twang the Butcher, you have done a great work in strengthening our forces outside the border.  I salute you.  But I suggest we move forward together.  The manor is of no interest to me, the hidden vault beneath it is of no interest to me—besides, no sorcerer who has tried to reach it has survived.  The dragonholds, however, are a different matter.

“Another dragonhold still stands, ruled by a sycophantic dragon.  It would be too powerful for you to take and hold, I think.  But I will take Dragonhold Greatclaw; if you agree to ally with me, you may keep the manor, and we will split Ripgut.”

“What of this area?” asked Twang.

“You want it?” Sergeantanis asked in surprise.  “I thought to take the beast’s essence for my own, but otherwise it is of little interest.”

I spoke up to avoid raising suspicions.  “Lord Twang has interest in the laboratory for his mystical studies.”

“Ah.  I would not object to you taking that, as it has no worth to me.  But can I take the essence of the beast, for my father’s purposes?”

“Yes, that would be acceptable.”  Twang pushed forward.  “Who would be in command at Dragonhold Ripgut?”

“Are any alive who once served Ripgut?”

“They now serve me.”

“Exactly.  Let one of them command.”

Twang smiled.  “Are we then agreed?”

“Upon the blood that I carry, we are agreed.”

“I swear on the living blood of my grandmother,” responded Twang.

He nodded.  “Strong she is, if she yet lives.”  They each cut their hands, allowing the blood to mingle as it dripped upon the ground.  The directness of this deal with a creature of the Abyss concerned me, but I took no action as it seemed necessary to serve the greater purposes of the Darkness.  I hope that my conduct will be judged acceptable when I can again submit to examination.  I stand ready to serve any penance the Church orders.

Sergeantanis vaulted into his nightmare’s saddle, nearly breaking its back in the process, and rode hard back to his camp.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jul 19, 2008)

Posts may be unreliable for the rest of the summer-- my family is in the process of preparing for a big move to California.  I'll try to post on the usual schedule, but the problems may continue.

-----

Sergeantanis bellowed in Shadowspeech, beat his breast, and stalked around the Tower.  Eventually, a figure emerged from the Tower mounted on horseback.  It looked to be a human, but seemed drawn and weak, no doubt from the ghost’s powerful attack.  Based on the description, we had little doubt that this was the remnant of the cambion.  I doubt it would have met Sergeantanis at all, except that it functionally had no choice.  Failure to meet him in battle would invite a revolt of its troops, and Sergeantanis would simply force his way into the Tower eventually regardless.  

The two embodiments of chaos battled fiercely.  The cambion cast occasional spells, which Sergeantanis mostly brushed off.  Sergeantanis gave no indications of the ability to wield magic, although his wounds closed unnaturally fast—if he does not have a magic item that confers regeneration, he must have that power inherently.  With the cambion weakened, Sergeantanis inevitably cut it down, seeming surprised at the ease with which he triumphed, although the battle lasted a meaningful amount of time.  Our assessment was that, given our current power, we could not possibly have vanquished either Sergeantanis or his cambion foe.  Clearly, Sergeantanis’s demonic rank is not merely a courtesy to his father.  With the battle won, Sergeantanis roughly chopped the cambion’s corpse into pieces and fed the pieces to his favored followers.  His forces immediately began striking camp and departed shortly thereafter, heading directly towards Dragonhold Greatclaw.  

We discussed whether to double-cross Sergeantanis by sending Alveera to warn Dragonhold Greatclaw.  We wished to see Greatclaw destroyed, but we needed to hedge against the possibility that Sergeantanis would be a more dangerous foe in possession of the Dragonhold than Greatclaw had been.  We ultimately decided to warn the Dragonhold—a pitched battle between two factions of Shadow would be more likely to leave them weakened than a surprise ambush.  I ordered Alveera to disguise herself as a succubus, ostensibly sent on behalf of Urkobach the Tyrant to warn Dragonhold Greatclaw.  As always, her disguise was impeccable.  [An easy task because of her true nature as a succubus.]  I instructed her to blame Sergeantanis for the fall of Dragonhold Ripgut in an effort to cause him the political trouble he had mentioned fearing.  I also ordered her to flee as soon as she delivered the message.

We advanced to the gate to the Tower.  Sergeantanis’s troops had left behind a large bloody patch around the weapons of the cambion.  Sideh detected evil on the items, a great sword and a spiked shield.  Both detected as evil, the shield more strongly than the sword, although he did not perform the more important check of whether they were infused with chaos.  The shield radiated clear magic, but the great sword did not appear enchanted.  I believe that the sword was forged of Abyssium, the metal found only in the Abyss. We knew very little about Abyssium—we knew that it was not well suited to holding enchantments but could be particularly effective for certain types of magic, such as anti-divine enchantments and control of the dead.  Supposedly, it sometimes contains tortured souls.  Fortunately, it is if anything easier to break than steel.  Buzz picked up the sword, using oiled cloths as grips and taking care to not touch the metal directly, and put it in the cart.

Twang picked up the shield.

[Konrad did not hear what happened next.  Twang immediately heard a voice in his mind.  <<Master, whom shall we devour?>>

<<No one right now.>>

The voice reluctantly responded, <<I was made to serve you.>>

<<How can you serve me?>>

<<We can chew upon our enemies together.  I can devour flesh and blood and bone.>>

<<That is good, but you must wait. What is your name, child?>>

<<I am Chewer, the render of flesh.>>

<<Good name.>>

<<We shields are not very creative, but we are consistent.>>  In addition to its other powers, the shield had a +4 total bonus with no arcane spell failure chance.]

Twang slung the shield.  “It might be useful.”

Sideh responded.  “It might, but be careful.  I would not use it myself.”

“That might be wise.  But I am sometimes in need of protection.”

Under the circumstances, I did not feel that we could argue with Twang’s decision, but he bears watching.  Between his self-aggrandizement and his willingness to seize possibly chaos-tainted weapons for his own use, he shows worrisome signs of sliding into the Shadow.  And of course, he is a kobold, and not a servant of the Orderly Darkness.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jul 23, 2008)

We planned for our assault on the occupied tower to split any defenders, while also concentrating the risks on our least important troops.  The Rappa flew in at the top of the tower and began battling their way down, while we planned to enter through the bottom of the tower with the human mercenaries after the Rappa had attracted the enemy’s focus.  As the mercenaries were expendable, we arranged them in the vanguard, although Sideh insisted on joining them, perhaps to ensure that the mercenaries would fully engage in the fight.  The rest of us followed from some distance behind.

While we were still carefully advancing up undefended stairs, a blood Rappa flew back.  “They hold us at the third landing below,” it croaked.

“What are they?”

“At the third landing below,” it repeated in confusion.

“No, what kind of creatures are you battling?”

The Rappa squawked its understanding.  “Like most here, they are dead.  It is hard to kill the dead, master.”

“Bone or vaporous?” asked Buzz.

“Only one is vaporous.  We flee from it when it appears.”

Sideh described the ghost from before and asked if the vaporous undead matched that description.

The Rappa flapped its wings as it thought.  “No, this is more like a black mist with jeweled eyes, like to be plucked from the air.  What it touches dies, but our weapons will not touch it, master.”

Sideh nodded, and enchanted the weapons of some of our strongest warriors, as well as his own sword, right before we rushed up the stairs.

We rushed forward and up, passing through several layers before meeting any opposition.  We could hear the clash of weapons above us as we moved.  Eventually, a small group of armored skeletal warriors emerged into the stair well and engaged our first rank.

Sideh called on his deity to repulse the undead while Buzz unleashed augmented fire missiles,  destroying a couple of them and injuring others.  One of the skeletal creatures fled from Sideh’s holy symbol.  More importantly, some other things that we had not seen also shrieked and retreated.

The undead counterattack was uneven, but the least damaged skeletal figure—perhaps a greater undead of some sort-- emasculated one of our mercenaries.  He fell and quickly bled out before we could save him.

We focused our attacks on the undead commander, hitting it with numerous spells.  Buzz’s energy blasts continued smashing the lesser undead, but the leader appeared immune or nearly so.  Fortunately, a fiendish ape that I called to service savaged it fiercely.  At that point, the undead commander flung a small jeweled item at the ground.  It shattered and enveloped the entire first rank of our troops in a blast of acid.  Several of our troops were badly hurt by the acid, and Sideh sustained worrisome wounds as well.  One of our soldiers even collapsed.  Fortunately, the acid blast was large enough to encompass our enemy as well, and the skeletal commander and one of the two remaining skeletal warriors clattered to the ground as well.  With the fight nearly won, Twang brandished his wand to draw the skeleton’s attention and then bashed it with his new shield.  His shield was impressively effective, ripping the undead’s bones apart.  The shield chewed on a bone afterwards like a feral creature enjoying a kill.

We sent the next squad of soldiers leapfrogging forward while Sideh treated his wounds and those of the most badly hurt mercenaries that survived.  I also ordered the fiendish ape forward.  They rushed up to the next landing-- the fourth landing from the bottom—and into a room off to the right from the stairs.  The room had an oddly medicinal, almost bleach-like odor.  A large frog-like humanoid, loped at a leisurely pace across the landing and towards the stairs.  I recognized it as a hezrou and quickly ordered my ape to attack it.

The ape traded savage blows with the hezrou, but could not stand up to it in melee—after only a few exchanges, the demon drove my minion back to Hell.  Twang, Buzz, and I all attacked with spells or psionic powers, but the hezrou ignored our attacks.  While not possessing the protections of the greater demons, even a hezrou can be difficult to ensorcel without more practice than we had yet gained.  Our troops were most ineffective—I assume they were simply unfortunate, but I have to wonder if they might have lost their nerve in the face of a demonic assault.  If so, they will either stiffen soon as they gain experience battling the Shadow, or we will have to develop ways to encourage them.

Sideh joined the battle, rushing straight up to the hezrou and wounding it.  The hezrou’s response was fearsome, gashing Sideh badly.  At that point, an odd bit of luck went our way.  Twang summoned a fiendish dire rat using his wand.  The dire rat essentially ripped the hezrou in half, clawing and ripping at a wound until the demon collapsed and dissolved away.  Rarely has so petty a minion dealt such a grievous blow.

Twang was the first of us to reach the stairs up, and could see part of the battle raging on the floor above, along with seeing a steady stream of blood running down the staircase.  He quickly threw a _web_, catching as many undead as he could.  Ultimately, it would turn out that six of the remaining undead and two Rappa were in the web.

I summoned my fiendish ape again on the far side of the web, and we mopped up, winning a considerable victory.  The Rappa took severe casualties, with about twenty of the original fifty down.  Sideh saved a few of the critically injured Rappa with scrolls of cure light wounds.  But the important point was that we now held the tower, although the wraith, if we correctly guessed the incorporeal undead’s nature, remained nowhere to be seen.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Jul 26, 2008)

As soon as we had secured control of the tower, we began moving the matrix up, although with additional precautions to deal with a potential attack by the wraith.  Sideh and the best of the mercenaries stayed at the top of the tower, while Twang, Buzz, and I guarded the group of mercenaries that we ordered to carry the matrix up.  As we expected, the wraith rushed one of the soldiers who were carrying the matrix as we neared the entrance to the tower.

The wraith embraced its target killing him instantly.  The other mercenaries showed good discipline and attacked after placing the matrix on the ground, but their weapons passed through the wraith harmlessly regardless of their skill.  Twang and I assaulted it with spells, Twang blasting away parts of its essence with his magic missiles while I cast a maximized, extended _Demon Dirge_.  By that point, Sideh reached the bottom of the tower, having run the four flights of stairs at the first sounds of combat.  He banished the wraith into the wastes by invoking his god, and the _Demon Dirge_ burned away the rest of its essence until it was destroyed.

After that battle, we carefully decapitated the dead soldier and the Rappa dead and burned their heads.  Sideh and I agreed based on our studies that that should be sufficient to prevent the creation of additional wraith spawn.

With those matters dealt with, we finally had the matrix in position, complete control of the tower, and everything in readiness to move the Shadowline.  Sergeantanis’s forces posed an interesting problem, however.  If we moved the Shadowline while his forces were in the area that would now be outside of Shadow, we would inadvertently unleash a sizable Shadow army that could then assault villages, Hastur Circles, or whatever else it would choose to.  Moreover, if he doubled back to Circle Treehaven, he could likely retake the Tower from us and undo all our gains while also capturing a matrix and possibly even killing some of the Hastur.  We decided to wait for Sergeantanis to clear the new Shadowline in his trip towards Dragonhold Greatclaw.  We estimated that he would be beyond the new line in three days, but we decided to wait four days to install the matrix, just to be safe.

That night, almost immediately after nightfall, Alveera returned.  “I have notified Dragonhold Greatclaw, Master.  They were inclined to believe that I was indeed from the Tyrant because of the great size of his harem.  They will be ready when Sergeantanis arrives, and there will be a great bloodletting.”

Perhaps an hour later, a different woman strode boldly up to the tower.  I slept through the entirety of her visit, but I received reports from Alveera later.  By purely physical appearance, the visitor seemed almost human, but she did not seem quite like a true human—perhaps a succubus who had concealed her wings.  A panther stalked behind her, and she carried a crystal wedge in her hand.

“Ho the tower and the inhabitants therein.”

Twang went to the battlements and called back.  “What news do you bring to Lord Twang?”

“There is one that will soon be here.  Do you wish me to turn him away?”

“Of what nature is he?”

“He is a chaos champion.”

 “That might be well.  Do as you please.”

“Do you wish them turned aside?  I know that I could do so.  But I will claim a portion of the strength of five of your men in exchange.  I will not take their souls, nor even partake of their flesh.  But I must have my due if I am to turn them aside.”

Twang said to Sideh and Buzz, “Her offer sounds reasonable to me.”

“I am loath to ask any for that,” replied Sideh.

“We could ask for volunteers,” said Twang.  “Some of the troops might be quite willing to give a little of their strength.”  He returned to the battlement and said, “What strength do you require from our men?”

“A bit of their essence of masculinity.”

“Will it regrow over time?”

“Of course!  The point is in the quest for men’s masculinity, not to take it permanently.”

“And the procedure?  How will you take the essence?”

“Any who wish to give it in the traditional manner, may do so.  Otherwise, a kiss will suffice.”

After some further discussion, my companions asked for volunteers among the troops.  Many of the mercenaries were willing, even eager, to agree, heedless of the peril in which they placed their souls.

Eventually, Twang selected four of the mercenaries by lot, choosing himself as the fifth volunteer.  He kissed her and lost some of his strength—a small matter, as he does not rely on physical prowess.  The more worrisome aspect was Twang’s continued willingness to deal with the forces of Chaos.  Kisses such as that carry a far steeper price than their mere physical effects.  But, doubtless because they knew that I would object, none of my companions saw fit to consult me before entering into a deal with a demon.  If I have failed in my duties by continuing to associate with them, I will seek penance from the Church.  But the chaos champion did not approach the tower, if indeed the chaos champion existed at all as more than a bogeyman to coerce a deal.  

[In fact, a chaos champion had been heading towards the tower, having detoured from his previous plans.  The succubus approached him and accepted his advances.  She kept him occupied for the entire night, and when the morning broke, he turned aside from the tower, lacking the time to continue on a diversion from his duties.]

In the middle of the third day, we noted a steady but rapid movement of a vast number of goblyns, running in sight of the tower.  They headed roughly northwest, coming from the southeast.

We sent out a scout who asked them from whom they fled.  

A goblyn answered, still hurrying by, “We do not flee.  We go, commanded by the mighty one who drives us before him.”

“Who is the mighty one?”

“We are not worthy to speak his name.  He is too mighty for such as we to speak of him.”

They ran by for the whole day, four thousand or more goblyns in all.  We pulled all of our troops back into the tower and doused the lights.  Whatever drove them forward would almost surely be something that we did not want any contact with.  Finally, a carriage made of interlinked bones rolled by, pulled by monstrous zombies the size of giants.  The tower likely looked abandoned or inactive, and the carriage rumbled on its way without stopping.

End of Session 10


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Aug 27, 2008)

Session 11:

21 Vaen

The rest of our wait passed uneventfully.  I discussed a possible plan to build a loyal base of infernal abishai with Spring—if I implement the plan, it would be best to have the use of the additional components for summoning abishai that he took in our initial division of loot.  We did not reach a definitive agreement, but time is not pressing—I would not attempt my plan without access to the sorts of superior chambers for summoning that we have back at the manor we reclaimed from Bastion, and he cannot perform a summoning without a proper license, so the components will not be used until later regardless of whether we can reach an agreement.

Having waited long enough to make it as likely as possible that Sergeantanis and his army would be beyond the area we intended to redeem from the Shadow for the Darkness, we were finally ready to attempt to install the matrix.  My companion Buzz took the principal role, assisted by Sergeant Cilorian Leafbougher.  We carefully moved the matrix into position in the heart of the specularum at the top of the Tower.  Fortunately for our long-term position, the windows of the specularum remained intact with crystal panes showing the surrounding area in all directions.  Buzz and the sergeant carefully hoisted the matrix up onto its pedestal, but it failed to balance correctly.  The matrix slid off, slamming into Sergeant Cilorian and smashing him to the ground. If he were living, I fear he would have been badly concussed or worse.  As it was, he still remained insensible for the better part of an hour.   Fortunately, the matrix itself appeared unharmed.

When he recovered, they moved the matrix back into position atop the pedestal.  This time, it balanced, but Buzz informed us that the matrix had not seated itself correctly—while it would not fall, it was not positioned to integrate itself into the Tower’s structure.  After a pause to regain their composure, and in Buzz’s case to regain her breath, they attempted to position it a third time, twisting it around the other way but still not aligning things perfectly.

At this point, I heard a whisper in my mind in the same voice as the succubus noble we had recently met.  “Try to hurry your companions along.  I cannot distract them from your actions for much longer.”  This was a most worrisome message, for a host of reasons, and yet I did not bring it to the Sergeant’s attention.  My magical studies have made me quite aware of the delicacy of certain operations, and I believed that an awareness of the time pressures would make them more likely to fail, rather than more likely to succeed quickly.

Sergeant Cilorian and Buzz tried again, and the matrix finally settled into a groove on the pedestal, clicking into place.  My psionic companions nodded with satisfaction, confident that the matrix was ready to be powered.

They appeared on the verge of relaxing—while the work had not appeared particularly onerous, it clearly took more attention than an untutored eye would notice—and I spoke urgently, “Can we activate it?  We have been warned that time is running out.”

Buzz sighed, consulted the instructional crystal the Hastur entrusted us with, and then put her hands on two specific points on the great matrix.  Her body suddenly became rigid and her head swung back.  The matrix flared into life as her skin took on almost a grayish cast and sweat poured down her face.  [In game terms, the matrix absorbed all but one of her power points.]

Through the observation windows, we saw a barrier flash up as the Shadowline shifted to beyond our point.  In less time than it would take to blink, two great flying figures appeared just on the other side of the barrier in what remained in Shadow.  But the Shadowline held, and for the first time in years, sunlight shone in this part of Caldefor.  I regret that the return of a portion of Caldefor to the Darkness was not accompanied by the actual darkness of night, but Lord Paranswarm’s dominion over the land could no longer be denied by any.

A moment later, two Hasturs aported into the specularum and carefully eased Buzz out of position.  One of the Hasturs carried several large crystal capacitors and began emptying them into the Tower’s power reserve.  While they attended to the psionic defenses, most of us looked over the forces of Shadow that had appeared on the far side of the line, although Twang hid in either cowardice or an effort to avoid revealing his true loyalty.

The closer figure, by a small margin, looked like a pegataur, with a human-like torso, head, and arms, an equine body and legs, and large feathered wings.  He carried a long bow of some odd black material with twisted, agonized faces on it.  The bow appeared to be strung with poison ivy.  He also wore at his belt a horribly deformed blade shaped like a druid’s sickle.  Faces on the blade screamed in pain or anger, although we could not hear their words, or even if they made a sound, from this distance.  As we examined him, a somewhat more distant version of the succubus’s voice whispered, “Lord Sarkany,” although neither I nor any of my companions recognized the name.

The second figure was much larger, appearing to be an enormous giant man, carrying a gigantic sword slung over his back.  He shook his fist angrily at the Tower and the Shadowline, clearly regretting that his inattention had allowed us to redeem a portion of Caldefor.  Ice dripped from various places on his body.  The voice whispered again, “Lord Hisiii, a warlord in service to Malia.  Memorize them well, for they have memorized you, my sweet.”  

In addition to the demoness’s overly familiar words, we all received a vague distant picture of her mincing out of a feast hall, surrounded by her entourage, and across the dimensions.  Two overturned chairs had fallen beside the one from which she had been reading aloud from a golden book-- the Book of Apples, also known as the Book of Temptation, a vile text of the most insidious demonic ideas and imagery.  That book is widely bandied about among those of Borsh’tro’s demons determined to conquer the Prime.  The implication that she had distracted Lords Sarkany and Hisiii to assist our efforts was clear, but I hope that as we had not requested her aid, no taint will have fallen on our souls.  I will of course make any penance that the Church deems appropriate once I have access to a confessor once more.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Aug 30, 2008)

After completing their initial defensive preparations, the Hastur turned and addressed us.  “An armed force of four-thousand men hurry in this direction to help us establish the border with troops on the ground as well as the energy barrier.  Until they arrive, I hope that you will be able to assist here.  Your work here has been extraordinary.  This is the largest piece of Shadow that has been retaken in many decades.  I will commend you to our Council myself.  Much of the Council will be impressed.  The others do not notice many things.”

Sideh asked whether there was anything of note in the village around the Tower.

The Hastur spoke with regret.  “There is not much of the village left.  There was a temple of Glor’diadel there, once.”

I immediately inquired after churches of the True Faith.  

The Hastur replied, “There were none in the village, but in the great towns, beyond the village, there were many temples to Paranswarm.  The village around the Tower was mostly families of our Guard and others who would support them, and they incline more towards the Light than towards the Darkness.”

“I trust that there is no disagreement that Caldefor has been restored to the Darkness?” I asked, as I felt it vital to establish the Holy Church’s rights.

“Of course,” replied the Hastur.  “Such is how it has always been.  The Archbishop of your archdiocese has been informed and is sending priests and settlers to retake the land.  In the meantime, however, you should make preparations to defend the victory you have won.  If the enemy comes, they will come here.  We are further from allies than any of the other Circles, and we do not yet have the support of our armies.”


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Sep 4, 2008)

In keeping with the Hastur’s request, we began efforts to fortify our defenses.  Our first step was to send for the pachak to help us defend the tower.  We left the Eums at the manor we took from Bastion, as we feared that their traditional association with Shadow might reassert itself if they were tasked so soon with defending the Shadowline.  [At the manor, the vast majority of the Eums remained firm in their conversion.  However, one group, consisting of about a sixth of the total, panicked in response to the sudden appearance of sunlight and fled into the basement of the manor to hide, refusing to come out into the light.].  The Rakshasa paladin that had accompanied us went to the border and taunted the enemies on the far side of the Shadowline, apparently in an effort to induce a premature attack before the enemy had fully gathered its forces.

[Sideh turned his initial attention towards restoring the Glor’diadelian temple in the village.  Most of the village’s buildings had simply decayed, but the temple was the object of a great degree of rage and suffered badly.  The Shadow broke the structure down nearly stone by stone.  They also pounded on the altar, a huge granite block, until it split.  Sideh’s examination of the altar showed a serious crack, graffiti, and sigils of various demon lords carved on and around it, but he was fairly sure that it could be restored with effort.  He began by cleaning it thoroughly over the course of the next three days.  On the third day, Sideh resanctified the altar.  When the holy energy surged through the altar, much, but not all, of the holy protections on the temple resumed.]

A steady stream of forces gathered by the demon lords’ pavilions across the Shadowline.  By the end of the second day, the goblyns and the coach from whom we had hidden before restoring the Shadowline returned to the area.  A tall, robed, slender figure approached Lord Hisiii as the goblin set up a pavilion for him as well.  We could see that his robe was covered by marks, but while I recognized some symbols as minor demonic lore, I could not discern the meaning of the whole.  The figure also carried a staff made of bones that had been carved and screwed together.  I could not identify the creature’s nature, but Buzz asserted confidently that it was an undead goblyn, probably a lich.  I was familiar, of course, with the rumors of goblyn liches among the court of the Master of the Thronged City, in direct service to the traitorous Count.  If I believe the stories, the goblin liches command special hordes of highly disciplined goblyn troops—or at least as highly disciplined as Shadow forces can be—that serve as Borsh’tro’s arm in enforcing discipline.

By dawn of the fourth day after we had restored the Shadowline, the forces ranged against us were fearsome.  Our estimates were imperfect, but we counted roughly 4000 goblyns, 2000 green eums, about fifty lesser demons, all vrock or below in power, and the two demon lords and the goblin lich.  Without the Shadowline, we would be utterly unable to withstand their assault, but even with it, if they were willing to take the chances involved, we would be at best hard-pressed to stop them.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Sep 11, 2008)

A great consternation disrupted the demon encampment that evening.  The demon lord Sarkany rose up on his wings, staring towards the northeast.  Within moments, the goblyn lich emerged from its pavilion, tossing a book into the pillows as it walked.  The lich looked off towards the northeast as well before touching eight of its guards, each heavily armed and armored, and disappearing with the eight in a teleportation.

We heard kettle drums booming in the distance, along with trumpets sounding.  The sounds were muffled, but impressive nonetheless—they were the only sounds we had ever heard through the barrier.  Indeed, I had not thought that it was possible to hear anything across the Shadowline.  Lord Sarkany continued looking only to the northeast, while Lord Hisiii paced around like mad, occasionally stopping to stare off in the same direction.  We only watched the enemy directly for a short time, but even within that time we saw Hisiii bite the head off a goblyn that approached too near to him.  He continued chewing on the rapidly collapsing head nervously.

Sergeant Cilorian and I immediately climbed to the Specularum, hoping that we would be able to see the commotion to the northeast.  The sergeant reported the odd experience of the window turning into the lens of a telescope.  The distant landscape appeared much closer, and he could scan the far land, but he saw nothing of note beyond several more small groups heading to join the enemy.  Sergeant Cilorian stated that he intended to see how far his vision would reach through the windows of the Specularum.  He could focus to a range of about 150 miles, and he could see less clearly even beyond that.  He finally noticed a battle at the Dragonhold, presumably between Sergeantanis’s army and that of the great wyrm that ruled the hold.  The Dragonhold was at the extreme reach of the sergeant’s capabilities, and he could not focus on it, but he did describe a battle in the courtyard, along with a lifeless pile of bodies that had fallen and the goblyn lich with his eight guards hanging over the battle.  The lich occasionally struck downwards with a line of purple energy from his staff.

My companion Spring apparently capitalized on the distraction to cross the Shadowline invisibly to reconnoiter the enemy camp.  [Buzz said to where Spring disappeared, “Don’t be too stupid, and try to come back in about one piece, okay?”]  After crossing, he used _ghost sound_ to create another clamor to the east, with a more hurried drum beat, and slipped into the camp.

Buzz joined us in the Specularum after a moment and determined that she could also use the lenses to magnify her powers at distance.  She touched the lens next to Sergeant Cilorian’s and activated a clairaudience effect out to a range of 90 miles.  She then activated the Sergeant’s window and they both reported hearing as well as seeing the battle.  The Sergeant relayed what he heard, describing the clash of weapons and the bellowing of the lich, to the extent its magical voice could support a bellow, saying,  “Listen to me.  I invoke Ramal, the Master of the Thronged City.  Here me!  You must stop this.  An eighth of the land of Caldefor has fallen to the enemy.  And you are slaughtering each other over control of a hold!”  Buzz then unleashed an energy missile through the connection.  The lich ignored the electric blast, but Buzz knocked two of its guards clean out of the air.

[Meanwhile, Spring made his way into the lich’s pavilion.  Right at the entrance, he saw silk cushions, a lute, a bottle of perfume, and a book.  He grabbed the book and the perfume, and then cast invisibility on the tent.  That caused a certain additional disruption within the camp, but he again managed to evade notice, thanks to his invisibility and skills at stealth, and quickly crossed back across the Shadowline.  Spring began reading the book at the base of the tower, but he quickly noticed two things.  First, a magical defense of some sort attacked him but without any effect.  Second, the book itself appeared incomprehensible.  The natural 20 on his Will save indicated that he was immune to the symbol of unendurable agony inscribed in the book, greatly disturbing the embedded pain demon.  He also noted that the perfume smelled wonderful—it had a value of approximately 500 silver.]  

With Buzz’s assistance, Sergeant Cilorian established both sight and hearing links for me as well.  By this point, the battle had essentially concluded, with a very bloodied and battered Sergeantanis victorious.  The dragon lay dead.  The goblyn lich, chanted the name of the Master of the Thronged City over and over again, holding both hands lifted above his head on his staff.  We were familiar with Ramil, of course, who has the reputation of being right on the edge of the transition from being a mighty lord of the Shadowland to being a Tanar’ii lord.  He has control over acid and poison, and we suspected that he had given his servant immunity to both of those.  Buzz therefore sent a fire missile when she attacked again and Sergeant Cilorian projected burning hands through the Tower’s defenses.  They burned the lich’s guards badly, but not enough to kill them.  The lich broke off his chant long enough to order, “Spread!” and then resumed chanting.  The Sergeant and Buzz quickly found themselves without reasonable targets.

Spring brought the book to me for further examination.  Based on his warning, I checked it for magic, detecting a strong dweomer.  I tried to bypass its defenses by opening the book to the middle, but it snapped open at the front and inflicted enormous, devastating pain on me, worse than any I have ever previously felt.  [Konrad lost 10 points of Constitution as a result of the trap.]  I regret to admit that I collapsed, trembling nervously from its force.  Realizing that the book was a tome of exceptional chaos, I sought to protect my allies from it.  I tried to cast Summon Monster III twice, followed by a Demon Dirge, but I was in so much pain that I failed in my efforts.  Not one of my spells functioned at all, and I could not destroy that accursed book!  Spring quickly carried the book away.

I warned both Spring and Buzz about the extreme danger the book poses.  Even if Spring remained too inclined to focus on its potential value, I hoped that his sister would prevail upon him to destroy the book.  Spring acknowledged the danger and said that he would destroy it if it became a threat, but also raised the point, regrettably true, that it might contain valuable information against the enemy.  I believe that I convinced him of the threat—I can only most fervently pray that I did, for if the book is as I fear, it threatens not merely his safety and that of Redeemed Caldefor but his very soul if he reads from it further.


----------



## Cerebral Paladin (Sep 21, 2008)

Sideh later reported having completed most of his preparations in the village to slow and harass the enemy should they break through the Shadowline.  His efforts were not without some cost—a large creature that he described as nine foot tall and four foot wide erupted from the earth while he was constructing traps, and tore one of the mercenaries in half before crouching and growling in a menacing manner.  Sideh believed that it was a bear tainted with chaos, although he was not certain.  Fearing that it would kill more of the mercenaries, Sideh calmed the beast down and redirected it toward the Shadowline.  In the best case, it would destroy some of the enemy, and in any event, it would no longer be a threat.  The beast carried off a potion of the mercenary’s carcass with it. 

Sergeantanis ultimately won the battle at the Dragonhold.  Unfortunately for our purpose, the slaughter was not as complete as we had hoped-- the lich quieted the remaining fighting and forced the survivors to agree to serve Sergeantanis.  The lich then hunted down and killed the people we had warned.  We realized that they had fled, rather than preparing for the battle with Sergeantanis.  We believed that Sergeantanis did not realize that we sent word warning his prey, and he thus remained likely to look the other way from our future efforts.

More troops arrived later on the fourth day.  On our side of the line, the pachak joined us, and we quickly set them to work guarding the tower and preparing against an assault.  Within an hour or so of the pachak’s arrival, a cavalcade of great hairy spiders, mounted by wild human women with significant chaotic features, rode up to the demonic camp.  The spider cavalry were led by a female drider-like creature, though she had the body of a scorpion rather than that of a spider.  The demons treated her as a great leader of Shadow-- even Lord Hisiii grudgingly nodded profound respect for her, while the others in the encampment, including Lord Sarkany, rushed over to give reports to her.

[Meanwhile, Spring cast _comprehend languages_ and read the book.  The book was a list of names.  He concluded that each was the name of a demon that could be summoned using the book.]

The following day, roughly four thousand troops joined our defense in the evening.  They were well-disciplined and equipped and were accompanied by several priests of Paranswarm, as well as a single minor priest of Glor’diadel.  That tilted the balance decidedly in our favor, even after a squirming horde of yellow eums joined the enemy army.  Now confident that it would not endanger their troops, the Hastur also opened a small gate and brought through one hundred of their power guard.

The Hastur Lady called us together.  “I am not certain if they will cross or not.  If they do cross, it will only be after a major demon arrives, for only they can drop the barrier without great loss of life.  However, the yellow eum may cross and raid, for the soil is perfect for them.  You should be on your guard.”

End of Session 11


----------

