# Aeon (updated 10/9/14)



## Sepulchrave II

In this thread I complain in a self-indulgent manner about my lot, and seek words of sympathy and advice from fellow ENWorlders. 

Many thanks for kind words. 

So I've decided to take some of your collective advice (the parts I like best, obviously) and pick up the keyboard again. I'm shooting for smaller, more frequent updates; I'm starting at a place in the campaign where I want to write, and the rest will follow - either as backstory, or as an update to  The Mesalliance at some vague, unspecified future date.

Bear with me on this one.

*************************************************


*VIRIDITY AND SAIZHAN*



Mostin the Metagnostic walked slowly through the hallway, the sound of his passage muted by a thick, crimson carpet which possessed a texture akin to fine velvet. He was not alone: his _arcane sight_ revealed several _unseen servants_ as they went about their chores, and a spined devil – one of a dozen compacted by the mansion's former mistress years before – flapped silently past. Its contract with Mostin had been renewed for a further three decades, and it was cautious to avoid irritating the Alienist.

He entered a study, the curious furnishings of which – upon his explicit instruction – had remained unaltered since the Alienist had taken possession of the place. Closing the door behind him, he walked to a ornate cabinet, opened its door, and removed a crystal decanter. Carefully, he poured himself a large goblet of _kschiff_. Taking a single sip – and briefly savouring its potency – Mostin sank into a large leather chair and introspected for an hour.

Thoughts of Shomei, the _simulacra_ and Vhorzhe preoccupied him.

Finally, he stirred himself, removed a small stone from his robe, and issued a _sending_ to his apprentice, Orolde: _No change, I assume?_.

_None._

Mostin sighed. After so long, he would have expected at least some kind of revelation to be forthcoming. Some kind of reaction. A threat. An assault. Anything.

_Set a fire. I am coming._

Mostin stood, exited the study by another door, and passed through several reception chambers into an echoing corridor carved in intricate relief. Traversing its length, he reached a small wooden portal bound with polished brass. The door opened smoothly, and Mostin entered a huge library by way of an opening concealed behind heavy purple drapes. Purposefully, he retrieved an ancient tome from a pile of books stacked neatly upon a small desk, muttered, and _teleported_ into the parlour of a rustic manse several hundred miles to the south.

In the hills of Scir Cellod on the borders of Wyre, twenty yards outside of the limit circumscribed by the Claviger – an entity of deific power which curbed the excesses of Wyrish arcanists through an Enforcer of terrible power – Mostin had erected his _comfortable retreat_. His choice of locale – a wooded dell, through which an icy stream chattered noisily – had been inspired primarily by its proximity to the intangible border, although it also offered a certain secluded charm which was not entirely lost on the Wizard.

Mostin wordlessly handed his cloak to Orolde – a maimed sprite who served the Alienist with eccentric devotion – sighed, and descended into his cellar. The area was replete with potent wards, the continual renewal of which occupied a not inconsiderable portion of Mostin's time and resources. A dim green light – testament to a _dimensional lock_ – suffused the place.

"Greetings gentlemen. I trust you are all well?"

From thaumatugic diagrams etched in precious metals upon the floor of the summoning room, three devils gazed impassively upon the Wizard: Titivilus, Murmuur and Furcas – Infernal magnates of high bearing, wielding wide dominion. None answered him. Malice flowed from them all.

"Are any of you feeling talkative?" The Alienist asked.

None replied. A great irony, Mostin thought to himself: both Furcus and Titivilus were renowned for their loquacity.

"Let me know when you are," Mostin said smoothly.

Silence penetrated the summoning room.

Mostin repaired to his study, and issued a number of _sendings_.


**


The Sidhe leaned upon a balcony of Irknaan's Fortress in self-reflection. She considered her fortune with emotional detachment and cold, sharp precision. She could not rationalize her change: in previous transmigrations she had been bawdy; licentious almost without limit. Now, she was frigid, and possessed of an eerie clarity which was so inherently _magickal_ that reality itself had shifted, and become a dream in which she was the calm protagonist. Everything had become fey.

Ahead, to the horizon, there stretched a bubble of Otherworld: pure, uncontaminated, as fresh as when the first flower had bloomed, and the first sprite had sprung into being. Beyond, for uncounted miles, lay a Shadow which was slowly receding. But behind, hidden by the towering mass of the castle, in the space once occupied by Jetheeg's range, potent magic had attached the bubble of Afqithan to Faerie proper. Many of the realm's inhabitants were either stirring again, or – in the case of those whom the taint had overwhelmed – fleeing to safer, darker places. Others, entirely new to the former demiplane, had migrated in small numbers to what was – for them – an undiscovered corner of the world. It was a phenomenon that had occurred before:  such intrusions were not uncommon in the scheme of things, and Faerie continually spawned bastard demiplanes, or silently absorbed them. Troops of fauns, sprites and pucks of various persuasions – but with shared curiosity – found places beneath the great banyans. Afqithan was a mezzanine between two worlds, and the Sidhe's stronghold – although it had proven not unassailable – was a powerful bastion which straddled realities.

She had styled herself _Queen of Afqithan_ like many before her had, and, no doubt, many after her would. She entertained great heroes, and ancient spirits, and minor gods of various kinds. She brooded on the deaths of past lovers, but wondered how she could have actually _felt_ what she had once felt. At other times, musical invention obsessed her, and she would spend an hour composing a symphony, or a day contemplating a single cadence. Time froze, and raced past at breakneck speed.

Her subjects were, for the most part, accepting of her rule. To many, she had appeared in person, simply announcing "I am the Queen, now." Those who had found this a difficult prospect – and there had been a few – she had roundly bested, either in combat, or magic, or in some artistic contest. Some had become enamoured of her, others had been duped by her promises and intimations. But most had simply acquiesced to her claim: it was obvious that no other could rival her, and what would Afqithan be without a tyrant? In the event, she transpired to be less than despotic, and made no particular demand from her subjects at all, other than to be called _your majesty._ 

She stood, and adjusted her harness: a soft leather coat with heavy studs, and a belt which bore a delicately curved blade. She wore a travel-stained cloak and boots – vestiges of her former self – and bore a light diadem cut from a gemstone. Her sudden self-awareness erupted as a cascade of chords seeking to escape from her mind and into her harp. She grimaced, and began to play. It was bitter, brutal, and poignant; full of anger and loathing, tinged with a wry self-mockery which embraced the absurd. The irresistable fate of the fey: a timeless childhood, or a perpetual decline; the knowledge that _what was_ is always better than _what is to come._

Her music became dark and ominous. Below the throne room, in a deep chamber etched with powerful runes, a _gate_ to Azzagrat slumbered. It had been sealed at both ends: by Graz'zt himself, as he sabotaged a hundred portals into the Argent Palace from planes where he perceived a possible threat; and by Mostin the Metagnostic in the aftermath of the Great Confrontation. Its very presence troubled her: she seldom enjoyed a peace of mind. Most of the Castle's inhabitants – sprites of low stature – were oblivious to its existence, although a few were not: gnomes and goblins who had eavesdropped on their former masters' conversations; or quickling spies, lulled into obedience by the new Queen's glamoury.

The tune ceased. She turned, and entered the cavernous throne-room from the balcony. Great crystal lamps illuminated the hall, and hundreds of feys danced, sang and capered about. Gifts and curses were freely exchanged. Her mood lightened somewhat: association with her own kind, she observed, was reassuring and gave her a sense of identity. And, as always, she was the focus of all attention. She ascended a dais of carved onyx, and relaxed into a small siege cast from precious metal and adorned with opals.

As she sat upon her throne, a feeling of deep satiation and langour overcame her. 

_It's good to be Queen_, she thought.

She greeted the _sending_ from the wizard with an expression of mild annoyance.

_Not now_, she thought. _You are interrupting a pavanne._

_I need you to pull the wool over my Dukes' eyes. Are you up to it?_

Her interest was piqued, much to her annoyance, but her manner remained insouciant.

_Let me think on it_, she thought.

_I think I may eliminate Murmuur in front of the other two. They might be more apt to talk._

_Don't be a fool. I'll come in the morning._

_Pay close heed to time. A year might pass before you realize it._

_Enough! I will come. Now go._

The Queen sat briefly, but found further enjoyment of the revel impossible. She stood in irritation, cursed, and exited abruptly. 


**


The _Sela_ was clad in the armour once worn by Lord Rede of Dramore, a martial paragon from a previous era, when war had been the business of the Temple. At his waist, he bore a six-flanged mace, forged by the same celestial smiths who had hammered Enitharmon's sword from a shard of thought. He was, at once, a perfect, unified consciousness, an awareness of everything that was, or is, or could be; but frail, mortal, imperfect. There was no 'he;' no observer, and nothing observed. There was a moving stillness. The potentiality of infinite bifurcation. An Adversary taunting him with a Green Void.

He sighed. 

He knew little of the arts of war. Even when he had served the Temple, rather than _been_ it, his role had been mainly oracular. The peculiar blending of the conventional and the Absolute – which Tramst embodied – did not seem to preclude gaps in his knowledge of mundane things. Strategy in war – amongst other things, such as royal tax protocols and the latest fashion in headwear – was one of those gaps.

For his captains he had picked Brey and Sercion – toward whom, since his ascension, he had payed particular notice. Neither were ready for the task that he had appointed them: their training was far from complete, and each still expected and presumed more than either would admit, even to themselves. Expectation and presumption were qualities which the _Sela_ had striven to eliminate from those who had accepted him as their teacher. Nonetheless, Tramst was satisfied that their role was what it must be: he observed all action with calm understanding. Fatalism and free will were, to him, an empty duality, the refutation of which was amply testified by his very existence – at least for those who saw the truth.

The _Sela_ observed ideas and emotions move through his mind: an unending torrent of desire, fear, concern, humour, regret and hope. He placed the tortuous ramblings of conventional thought to one side – whilst still honouring them – and embraced his ground of being; and saw once again, that they were no different. Insight and compassion welled up within him. But, even there, his Adversary was with him: tempting him in that moment to mould reality, to shuck off his mortality, and with a passing thought reorder things as he knew they should be. Any limitation which the _Sela_ possessed was self-imposed.

Consciously, he hung his mace upon a weapon stand and began to cast off his armour. Tramst struck a light, the dull glow of an oil-lamp suffused his tent, and he turned to observe a slender young man with olive skin sitting on his pallet. He had a tangled mass of hair, a face which rested with an impudent expression, and held a tray of candied chestnuts in his hand. He offered one to the _Sela_ with a boyish grin.

"Want one?" He asked. "They're from Bedesh. They're good."

The _Sela_ sat next to the youth, took one of the sweets, and chewed thoughtfully.

"Another?"

"No, thank-you," the _Sela_ smiled. "One is enough. I'm glad you came: I miss you."

The youth shrugged. "One has to make one's own way. I don't regret anything, you know."

"I know," the _Sela_ laughed, "and I know that you aren't here for the reason that I wish you were. You are merely curious. You wanted to _see_, rather than _See_."

The youth nodded, and popped another chestnut into his mouth.

"You are feeling insecure?" Tramst asked.

"Somewhat," the youth smiled.

"Your place in the scheme of things is assured. Do not be concerned. Although why I flatter your ego so is beyond me: it hardly needs inflating."

"I seem to have caught you in a happy mood," the youth grinned. "Which is all to the good. I was wondering if you might tell me..?"

"Ahh," the _Sela_ said drily. "Your name. Unfortunately, that information is still confidential. It can be bought, but I fear that the price might be too high for you."

"I guessed as much, although I had to ask."

"Of course you did, dear boy."

The youth stood, and bowed rakishly. "I will take my leave, then. I look forward to events with great anticipation."

"As do I," Tramst smiled. "Remember that I love you."

"I will try my hardest to forget," the youth sighed. He vanished.

*

When the _Ahma_ entered the tent an hour later, the taint was still so profound that it threatened to overwhelm him. His head reeled. Fear and concern possessed him.

"What happened here?" Eadric asked.

"I wavered for a moment," Tramst smiled. "There can be no truth without doubt." 

Eadric scowled.

"You have my permission to go. Return within a fortnight."

The _Ahma_ cocked his head. "I don't…"

Then he received the _sending_ from Mostin.


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## Ero Gaki

Great update as always, Sep! Welcome back, yo!


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## Plane Sailing

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> So I've decided to take some of your collective advice (the parts I like best, obviously) and pick up the keyboard again. I'm shooting for smaller, more frequent updates; I'm starting at a place in the campaign where I want to write, and the rest will follow - either as backstory, or as an update to The Mesalliance at some vague, unspecified future date.
> 
> Bear with me on this one.




Excellent, good man. Hope it goes well, I'll certainly enjoy reading about them once more.

Cheers


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## Dakkareth

Mmhh ... questions abound, answers are desired. But for now I think I'll start to read from the very beginning again ...


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## Krafus

I'm very glad that you're back, Sepulchrave.  And I look forward to learning how those three devils ended up trapped by Mostin.

Btw, if it's not asking for too much, what are the main characters' levels by the time this new chapter starts?


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## Warrior Poet

Sweet mother-of-pearl, he's BACK!  

Hip-hip-huzzah!  Hip-hip-huzzah!  etc., etc.

I was beginning to fear the stories of Wyre weren't coming back, but then, as was noted, "there can be no truth without doubt."

Sepulchrave II, nice to hear from you again!   

I like the leap forward.  It leaves a wonderful mystery about what happened.  Mostin's still alive, evidently, and so is the Ahma (assuming it's still Eadric).  The idea of Titivulus, Muumur, and Furcas somehow bound, or at least, less directly potent, is fascinating.  So many questions:  the Great Confrontation?  Grazz't?  Soneillon?  The Horror?  Spell Resistance 90?  Shomei?  Nwm?  Wyre's Greatest Liar?  Iua?  Oronthon?  Everyone's favorite reformed succubus druidic priestess?

Let the storytelling begin!

Edited just to say, pursuant to your other thread, and my post therein: nice to have you back, no pressure, thanks for writing, take it easy, enjoy, it's all good.

Warrior Poet


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## Moleculo

I feel like I am a dog who failed to fetch the newspaper, but got a treat anyway. Awesome. 

Out of curiosity: I know you're updating in the Mesalliance thread for background, but do you think a quick timeline would be possible? The happenings in your campaign are interesting for more reasons than the package they come in, so any quick summary would be delightful.


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## Henry

The Master of Wyre is back! _(Choir of Devas in background)_

Just tell it - don't worry about the outcome. We're listening, and I'd rather let the story unfold, than you give it to us. But I'll be around reading, either way.


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## the Jester

Great to have you back at it, Sep!


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## pogre

Delightful! What a great set-up!


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## weiknarf

yay


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## shilsen

And the crowd goes wild !


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## ajanders

*Sigh*

I take it Ortwin's been dying again?


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## The Forsaken One

Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


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## Olive

blow me over witha feather. Thanks Sep, and looking forward to more.


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## babomb

Hooray! Great update as usual.


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## SALADIN THE JUST

HURRAHHHH!!!! The Tales of Wyre are being told again!!!! Thanks for making it happen again, Sep!!!


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## Yair

yay! Thanks


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## Ziggy

Thanks !

I actually like the jump forward, the mysteries and happenings hinted here makes the story even more enthralling   

.Ziggy


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## Poky

Mostin seems ..changed. Not in any noticeable way, just more high? unconcerned?
Though I guess binding three Infernal magnates can do that.

And I dedicate my first post to Sep's new thread


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## Kestrel

Tears of joy.  So happy to see you writing again.  My inspiration for my own game is back.


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## Jackylhunter

Fantastic Sep, thank you.  I'm guessing here, but I'd say ortwin is the Sidhe Queen (nothing about what sex you assume when you get Reincarnated), or could that be Ortwin's Offspring?  Questions abound...I love it.


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## Rackhir

Jackylhunter said:
			
		

> Fantastic Sep, thank you. I'm guessing here, but I'd say ortwin is the Sidhe Queen (nothing about what sex you assume when you get Reincarnated), or could that be Ortwin's Offspring? Questions abound...I love it.






> She stood, and adjusted her harness: a soft leather coat with heavy studs, and a belt which bore a delicately curved blade. She wore a travel-stained cloak and boots – vestiges of her former self




That sounds like Ortwin after another reincarnation to me. 

It is great to be hearing Tales of Wyre once again! Thanks Sep!


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## Qwernt

*New char*

I would guess that the "Queen" is Ortwin's Player's new char.  Remember a certain someone had a thread about a male rpging a female...

As for the character, I think that this is that "hunting godess" that we met toward the end of the last thread - all her people had been wiped out.  She was a little suprised that "Mortals" were doing better against the demon hordes than she was.


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## Mortepierre

Qwernt said:
			
		

> I would guess that the "Queen" is Ortwin's Player's new char.  Remember a certain someone had a thread about a male rpging a female.




That was Destan, not Sep...


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## Funeris

Let's not bring that up again....
Destan is still suffering from Enworld Posting Anxiety....

But good catch on the correction, Mortepierre.


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## Roman

Yes!!!! Yes!!! Yes!! Yes! Thank you Sep!


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## tleilaxu

ajanders said:
			
		

> I take it Ortwin's been dying again?




the kid is the adversary, dude.


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## Felix

*basking in the afterglow of a Sep update*

Ahhhh......



EDIT:
After a while, Ortwin is just going to start self-incarnating, what with all the residual reincarnation magic infusing him... he did say he was _magikal_ now, you know...


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## Gidien

Yay! And yay not just because I find your writing fun and inspirational, but because you are a talented writer, and I love it when talented people get to do what they're good at. Yay!

And tleilaxu, I'm pretty sure he was referring to the new Queen of the Wyre as Ort's new face, not the boy....


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## Lazybones

Good to see more of this story, of course, but the timing is particuarly useful for me, in a selfish sort of way. This story (and a few others here) have been the inspiration for how I have come to perceive epic-level play (an innovation I resisted strenuously from the first day I opened the ELH in my local bookshop). I came to realize that if you look beyond the fairly nonsensical epic rules, epic play can allow for a new level of drama as heroes become truly the shapers of worlds.  The cost seems to be an insane level of bookkeeping, as character sheets approach the status of novellas in their own right...

Now as my own SH approaches that crazy realm populated by L20+ characters, I look forward to more inspiration. In particular, Sep (and Blackdirge) have greatly shaped how I regard epic-level antagonists.  I especially look forward to hearing how things with Big G worked out, whether told through flashback or through the development on ongoing events. 

LB


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## Warrior Poet

tleilaxu said:
			
		

> the kid is the adversary, dude.



Had to read through again.  I do believe you are correct.

Wow.

I'll be over in the corner, shaking my head and looking stun-gun stupid.  

This story hour is the coolest.

Warrior Poet


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## jmucchiello

tleilaxu said:
			
		

> ajanders said:
> 
> 
> 
> 
> I take it Ortwin's been dying again?
> 
> 
> 
> 
> the kid is the adversary, dude.
Click to expand...


What does that have to do with the Queen presumably being Ortwin? 

Though I did miss the signifigance of the kid in my first read....


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## Terwox

Very excellent to see you writing again, Sep -- and I'm also pleased with the format -- you get to both start up where the game currently is -- or, well, closer! -- but still retain your style.  Terribly glad you're planning on doing brief but common updating, and I hope it makes you happier to do things that way, as it certainly makes all of us happy to be reading again. 
Thanks!


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## tleilaxu

jmucchiello said:
			
		

> What does that have to do with the Queen presumably being Ortwin?
> 
> Though I did miss the signifigance of the kid in my first read....




nothing.   

however, i do think that the queen is the demigoddess (forget the name off the top of my head)


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## Urbanmech

Simply spine tingling.  Great to have Wyre back, the absence only makes the return sweeter.


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## Sepulchrave II

Bluff, Diplomacy, Intimidate and Sense Motive. Mostin still hadn't developed an epic spell to penetrate a _mind blank_. These skills enjoy a brief renaissance.


***


*Execution and Parley*.

“We should try again,” Eadric groaned. He was exhausted: interrogating devils was tedious, unrewarding work. He stared hard at Ortwin – now Ortwine – and shifted uncomfortably. His adjustment to his (_former_?) friend’s recent femininity continued to be difficult, and had proceeded in an intermittent fashion as revelations spasmodically shaped his perception. Her hauteur seemed genuine, even when directed towards him. Although prior manifestations of Ortwin had seldom been prone to honestly emote, and had never revealed the true extent of his feelings on _any_ matter, to the _Ahma_’s recollection. Coupled with the scant contact that he and the Sidhe had had with one another, Eadric knew that he did not know this creature. At all.

She seemed asexual, which was the most bizarre and implausible change from Eadric’s view. Overt sexuality was not, apparently, Ortwin/e’s defining characteristic. The essence was something else. An expression of some other truth, which Eadric could not grasp.

_And her wit_, Eadric quailed internally. _A little caustic, perhaps_, as Nwm had drily remarked. It was a snare; a wire with vicious hooks, which dripped contempt. So precise. So erudite. She seemed to know everything. She was _tapped in_ to something much bigger, with which in every successive incarnation, Ortwine had become more identified. _What would she become next?_ He wondered. What was more Fae than a Sidhe-Queen? He shuddered.

Ortwin had craved a kingdom, and Ortwine – now in possession of one – enjoyed her spoils with an easy display of ancient majesty. A quality which might take half-a-century for a mortal ruler to develop, seemed to be her natural demeanour. It was impossible to determine whether it was an affectation, or not.

Every time she died, she returned with increasing potency. Nwm brought her back. He would always bring her back. And if Nwm died, who would bring the Druid back? Teppu? Nehael? Mesikämmi? If any of them died, would they come back stronger? It was a truth, an aspect of the Viridity. _Absorb and transform. Deify the mundane. Death into life_. The perfect expression of the Green, which arose – or such was Nwm’s contention – in inevitable response to other influences. For _Saizhan_, it presented neither a conflict nor a congruence.

“Are the trolls of mysticism mustering for another attack on your enfeebled preconceptions, _Ahma_?” Ortwine read his mood accurately. “Should we banish them with fly-swats?”

“I like you better as a goat,” Eadric replied.

“Then we must be grateful that you are not consulted in the matter,” Ortwine smiled. “Time is precious to me, _Ahma_. I would prefer that dreary obligations are resolved quickly. We should simply kill one.”

Eadric nodded. 

*

Eadric leaned on _Lukarn_, his gauntleted fists gripping the crosspiece, resting his whole weight upon the point of the blade. He stretched up onto his toes.

Next to him, Ortwine sat on a low wooden stool. She looked only mildly interested.

"Which paradigm will prove the ascendant, I wonder?" The _Ahma_ mused.

Titivilus said nothing.

Eadric raised an eyebrow. "Your silence is unnerving. It seems to run counter to the natural order of things."

"Which one?" Ortwine asked. "I confess that Titivilus is my favourite – his manner is smooth, and I appreciate the efforts he makes towards presenting an agreeable social face. Furcus is haughty, but I respect his mind. Murmuur is somewhat dull, and lacks any feature which deserves to be preserved; but he is a soldier, and the least conniving and manipulative. Is he the most _good_, do you think?"

Silence.

"I could cut you down," Eadric sighed. He turned to Murmuur and Furcas. "Each of you in turn. It would bring the wards down, but still, none of you would survive long enough to react before your deaths. Nor could you intervene in each other's demise."

Eadric stared at Murmuur: of the Dukes he alone, the _Ahma_ knew, could be read. The glibness possessed by Furcas and Titivilus was impenetrable.

The possibility of an emotion passed across the devil’s eyes. Murmuur immediately knew that his thought had been perceived. And he knew that Eadric was not lying.

"And it would be a just punishment,” Eadric continued. “I have the right to administer it."

Murmuur sneered.

Ortwine sat, apparently nonplussed. "What happens to the estate of an Infernal Duke, while he is in captivity? Are his possessions redistributed amongst other devils in his absence, or held in fief by his master until his return? How much fear do you each feel, now? Does the prospect of annihilation fill you with dread, or do you anticipate a blessed release from your miserable lot? Perhaps an iota of your essence will remain, tormented in some yet deeper Hell by fiends to whom you appear the merest of shadows. Perhaps Oronthon will welcome the memory and remnant of your spirits back into his bosom. Or will the ancient, formless evil of the Abyss swallow you in unbeing? These are questions which intrigue me, and I have never before had the opportunity to voice them to any who might know." 

Murmuur’s spittle fizzled against the invisible barrier.

"You doubt my sincerity?" Eadric asked.

The _Ahma_ turned, and with two swift strokes felled Furcas, advisor to the Archfiend Dispater, and respected for aeons as one of Hell's most effective intellectual weapons. As the Duke crumpled, Ortwine leapt forward with blinding speed and seized him by the neck. She quickly drew a dagger of purified silver, and thrust deep into the devil’s waiting throat. Ichor spilled over her. She tossed the corpse to the ground in a perfunctory manner.

"We are at war," Eadric grimaced, ignoring Murmuur and turning to the Nuncio of Dis. "This is no longer a parlour game, Titivilus. Archetypes are slain in our times, and new ones born. And I am not benign, Titivilus. I am wrathful. I am the _Ahma_. Do you understand?"

"Given the circumstances, a certain degree of cooperation might prove sensible," Titivilus conceded. "But I require guarantee of my release after I have testified, and assurances that you will not subsequently harass me."

Eadric furrowed his brow and stared hard at Titivilus. But his consciousness was turned towards Murmuur, alert to signs which could be read.

"If I were to allow anything other than self-interest to inform my behaviour when my existence is threatened, I would be a traitor to my principles," Titivilus smiled. "In the final analysis, survival is the preferable route, and the court of Pazuzu is quite welcoming, I hear. Do not be alarmed – I have fallen out of favour before; a millennium or two passes, and I wheedle my way back in again. My eccentricities are forgiven in the face of my scheming brilliance."

"_Forgiven_?" Eadric asked.

"_Overlooked_ might be a better word for you," Titivilus smiled. "Although, from my perspective, they amount to the same thing. I must also insist that you slay Murmuur before I co-operate. I can allow no witnesses to our exchange."

Eadric shook his head. "I will retain Murmuur as a safeguard against your duplicity. If you prove faithless, I will release him to inform your masters of your conduct, and to seek whatever revenge he deems appropriate."

"You have grown cruel, Eadric," Titivilus smirked. "There is hope for you yet."

"Your attempts at badinage bore me, devil," the _Ahma_ sighed.

“The fiend has a point,” Ortwin said. “Or half-a-point.”


**


"This is intolerable," Waide snapped. "You would abide beyond the Claviger's purview, but seek aid therein when it is convenient for you? Any one of us could establish ourselves outside of Wyre, but by choosing not to, we demonstrate our solidarity. But you persist in your conjurations _on the very borders_."

"I reside in Shomei's former home…" Mostin began.

"Infrequently," Waide objected.

"For once, I concur with Waide," Daunton sighed. "Your contribution is greatly missed. Commit yourself to a shared enterprise, Mostin. Information is beginning to flow freely between us, for the first time in ten generations."

"My present undertaking makes this an unlikely prospect," Mostin glared. "The Enforcer would terminate me."

"Your right to call an Assembly will not be universally recognized," Daunton observed. "Many will not come, if only to irritate you." He looked pointedly at Waide.

"Then I will speak to the Wyrish Wizards as an _outsider_," Mostin said sourly. "An embassy, if you will. _You_ will issue the call, Daunton."

"Do not indulge him," Waide hissed. "Such an act would force me – and many others – to ignore you. You would cause a rift, Daunton."

"Waide," Mostin almost screeched, "if you were anywhere else, anywhere within a billion other cosmoi, then I would blast you for your pig-ignorance and show you what _transmutation_ really means."

"But you cannot," Daunton smiled. "Isn't that, in itself, worth something to you?"

"Yes," Mostin said, gesturing irritably, "but it is not worth _everything_ to me. You must be reflexive, or what you have built will atrophy and die. I will make a concession, however, to demonstrate my commitment to the Wyrish experiment."

"I doubt there is anything which would impress," Waide said.

"I will make Shomei's library freely available," Mostin replied. "On a reference-only basis, of course. No tomes will be removed from the property. And I believe there is a clause regarding theft between wizards in the Injunction."

"You are outrageous!" Waide said indignantly. "Your right to that inheritance is contested, in any case."

"The library is mine, and I will vigorously defend it against any claim to the contrary," Mostin said with narrowed eyes. "So it's settled then? The bribe is sufficiently large?"

"From my perspective, more than adequate," Daunton sighed pragmatically. "And I doubt any Wizard would decline your request in light of such an offer."

"Waide?" Mostin asked drily. "I hope you don't intend to abandon your magical peers on such a momentous occasion?"

"No," Waide replied, "any more than you would seek to exclude Rimilin from such a gathering. I believe he also maintains a temporary residence in Morne."

"Quite," Mostin said through gritted teeth.

"Do I detect the stench of another rivalry, Mostin?" Waide asked sarcastically.

At that moment, Mostin considered whether to _disintegrate_ Waide, although it would have meant his own, inevitable demise at the hands of the Enforcer. Turning red, he mastered himself with difficulty. 

"Perhaps you are not the heir apparent, after all," Waide added.

Mostin twitched, and smiled madly. "We can accomplish great things together Waide…"

"_NO!_" Waide spat. "What you mean to say is 'I,  Mostin the Metagnostic can accomplish great things with your aid.' You would attempt to corral every Wizard in Wyre into some ritual for _your_ edification, not for the elevation of magic or understanding. I will not be your lackey in a cabal which serves your own, deranged agenda. Don't think that I don't understand your motive in this. You wish to bind Graz'zt."

"Amongst other things. And if we don't do it first, he will be invoked by the Cult of Cheshne."

"I will not be drawn into a religious conflict."

"The distinction you seek to make is irrelevant," Mostin retorted.

"It is the _Law of the Injunction_."

"Within Wyre, yes. I do not suggest that we act within Wyre."

"You would be a magical dictator, who acts without restraint beyond a sanctuary, and would cower in it when threatened? This is not acceptable to me."

Mostin paused. Waide had a good point, although he didn't see the bigger picture. He breathed slowly.

"If assurances were made – inviolable contracts which protected the interests of every wizard involved – would you be philosophically opposed to participating in a ritual which could be demonstrated to…"

"With you at the helm? Never."

"You are ignorant, Waide."

"I suggest arbitration," Daunton said slyly. "We could appeal to the Claviger."

"This is beyond the Claviger's purview," Waide and Mostin said in chorus. 

"Exactly," Daunton smiled. "The Claviger has no interest in the outcome of this dispute. Hence, it would be the ideal arbiter."

"You suggest asking for _advice_ from the Claviger?" Waide laughed.

"In a manner of speaking," Daunton nodded. "But its judgment would have to be binding."

"But it could not use the Enforcer in pursuance of such an arrangement."

"I am suggesting that you _abide_ by its decision," Daunton replied. "Nothing else. Or have we all forgotten the ability to act with civility unless threatened with annihilation?"

"It has been a long time since I have _not_ been threatened with annihilation," Mostin said sourly. "But I'm unsure if we could present a case in intelligible terms. Most of my conflict with Waide stems from the fact that he is loathsome."

"Our mutual hatred transcends any rational compromise," Waide nodded. "However, I will not be branded as the one who refused the advice of the Claviger. I will agree to its decision."

"As will I," Mostin quickly backtracked.

"It may demand certain concessions," Daunton said carefully. "Are you sure that you are prepared to accept that possibility?"

"Naturally," Mostin answered. _Concessions?_ He thought. "But I would like to address the Assembly first, to see if some other route cannot be found."

"Good luck," Waide said snidely.

"Where, and when?" Daunton asked.

"In three days, at my manse outside of Morne," Mostin replied smoothly. "In my library."

Waide bristled silently.


----------



## Jumbie

Sep, thank you *SO* much for this update.

I read your post about the fatigue you're feeling and I completely understand. I guess that it was something I was always afraid of in the back of my mind as it's obvious that this is a huge undertaking that you've "committed" yourself to and there was always the chance the it would become too much to handle on top of everything else in your life. It's definitely a huge time drain.

I know that I, and the rest of your rabid fans, greatly appreciate all the time and effort you've poured into sharing this great story hour with us. I don't have anything to offer that wasn't already said in that other thread but I'm very thankful that you've decided to stick with providing us with updates. I'm happy for whatever you feel like sharing, whenever you do.

I think that it's fine to provide a summary post to catch up to more current events or to go the route you seem to be i.e. to refer to things in a backstory, and it's certainly better than deciding to do away with your tale. Although I'm sure everyone would have understood and been thankful for everything else, I know that we'd all have been hugely disappointed to have things come to an end.

So thanks for everything again Sep and it's great to have you b ack!


----------



## Rackhir

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> *Execution and Parley*.The _Ahma_ turned, and with two swift strokes felled Furcas, advisor to the Archfiend Dispater, and respected for aeons as one of Hell's most effective intellectual weapons. As the Duke crumpled, Ortwine leapt forward with blinding speed and seized him by the neck. She quickly drew a dagger of purified silver, and thrust deep into the devil’s waiting throat. Ichor spilled over her. She tossed the corpse to the ground in a perfunctory manner.





WOW! Eadric and friends must have gotten some SERIOUS XP from the great battle. Taking down a major devil like he was a mook.... Elegant text as always, it really is a pleasure to read.


----------



## Greybar

Wow.  I am so amazingly thrilled to see the return of this story in one form or another.  Wow.

I must say I would be tempted to use a story-telling method to dispatch Furcas, given that normally it is so difficult for combat to be resolved so quickly and dramatically (in my experience).  Perhaps in the more mechanical thread can be discussed the means?

As climactic as the battles from the previous incarnation of the SH were, it appears they were mere signposts pointing the way for something yet to come.  The _Sela_ in preparation for battle, bearing a celestial weapon of surely no small potency?  Demiplanes rejoining and abridging?  Archdukes of Hell slain?  Graz'zt shuttered in fear?  The Adversary (or his avatar?) walking Wyre?

what a ride - perhaps a hellride - it's going to be


----------



## Jeph

Rackhir said:
			
		

> WOW! Eadric and friends must have gotten some SERIOUS XP from the great battle. Taking down a major devil like he was a mook.... Elegant text as always, it really is a pleasure to read.



 I doubt that it was "merely" two strokes from the _Achma's_ sword... more likely two smitings, with Eadric and his blade benefitting from a half dozen various other enhancements.

Also, excellent updates! It's awesome to have you back, Sep!


----------



## Dakkareth

> *Eadric:*
> And I am not benign, Titivilus. I am wrathful. I am the Ahma. Do you understand?




It seems, Eadric's progress on the diamond path has been great ... as great as the increase in the danger of Falling. Just compare this to his earlier concerns about the title _Ahma_ ...


----------



## ForceUser

Dakkareth said:
			
		

> It seems, Eadric's progress on the diamond path has been great ... as great as the increase in the danger of Falling. Just compare this to his earlier concerns about the title _Ahma_ ...



He certainly seems to have become comfortable with the role. That's a big change. We're looking at heroes that are significantly more experienced than those we previously witnessed--perhaps not in levels, but in dealing with epic-level problems. That said, I miss Nwm! Where'd he go?

Glad to have you back, Sep.


----------



## Krafus

So the speculation that Ortwin had become that sidhe queen from the first update in this thread was correct...

And I echo the amazement of others that Eadric killed Furcas in only _two blows_. My curiosity about the PCs' levels grows... As does my curiosity about Nwm's whereabouts.


----------



## grodog

Krafus said:
			
		

> So the speculation that Ortwin had become that sidhe queen from the first update in this thread was correct...
> 
> And I echo the amazement of others that Eadric killed Furcas in only _two blows_. My curiosity about the PCs' levels grows... As does my curiosity about Nwm's whereabouts.




Perhaps the Adversary, who was green IIRC, is now Nwm?


----------



## Jumbie

I'm not so much curious about the PCs' levels as I am about what was the price ("catch") the Horror exacted in return for the "faces" of Kostchtchie and the dragon when Mostin sicced it on them. I'd also LOVE to know how that went.

I guess we will learn in due time. Must...be...patient...


----------



## Marvin the WarLord

I've gone rummaging around on my old compute to my find my password for the sight so I could express just how inspiring this storyhour has been to me in both running and playing high-level games. I've gone from fearing them to prefering them. Its obviously also a great read, the cogency, characterisation and wit being an ideal mix of authorial intent, choices about what to include, dialogue, ect. and what is obviously a group of fun people enjoying a game together and adding their own stuff. So, yes, colour me greatful for your return, and a firm hoper that you do enjoy writing these as much as you obviosuly enjoy playing and we enjoy reading.


----------



## Baron Opal

So, Rimlin survives... How irritating for Mostin (and his player). I do so love recurring villians. I was sure that Mostin would blast Rimilin in the back once Aquifthan was pacified.

Baron Opal


----------



## humble minion

Inheritance indeed.  *sniff*  Poor Shomei...


----------



## Seule

Excellent.


--Seule


----------



## BiggusGeekus

Sep, thanks.




			
				grodog said:
			
		

> Perhaps the Adversary, who was green IIRC, is now Nwm?




I think the old Ornithon orthodoxy preached that, but it wasn't true.  Remember Nwm cast some mojo in one of the fanes and the paladins detected no taint.  Also the Adversary (like Ornithon) is an outsider.  Nwm hates those guys.


----------



## Gez

BiggusGeekus said:
			
		

> I think the old Ornithon orthodoxy preached that, but it wasn't true.  Remember Nwm cast some mojo in one of the fanes and the paladins detected no taint.  Also the Adversary (like Ornithon) is an outsider.  Nwm hates those guys.




Ornithon's Adversary is probably Mostin.


----------



## The Forsaken One

The good old diplomatic and verbal interactions that I love so much from Sep  But Sep wouldnt be Sep without adding something to knock you silly with like Stroking down that Magnate like it was nothing haha.

AWSOME!


----------



## Arrgh! Mark!

They say every writer gets a cheap thrill out of unwarranted praise.

Give me some unwarranted praise. For Sep I give the real stuff!

Excellent work!


----------



## Cheiromancer

Gez said:
			
		

> Ornithon's Adversary is probably Mostin.




Ornithon's that eagle deity, right?


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

Hrmmmmm, from the WotC website in their Excerpt of Champions of Ruin:



> Chapter 7, Champions of Evil: Learn more about the elder evil of Faerûn. Aumvor the Undying, Dendar the Night Serpent, *Soneillon the Queen of Whispers*, Eltab, and others are detailed in all their gore, glory, and greatness.




Has someone at WotC been reading this storyhour?  Don't actually have the book myself, but I wonder how close the statup is to Sep's.


----------



## Seravin

Sollir Furryfoot said:
			
		

> Hrmmmmm, from the WotC website in their Excerpt of Champions of Ruin:
> 
> 
> 
> Has someone at WotC been reading this storyhour?  Don't actually have the book myself, but I wonder how close the statup is to Sep's.




Not very closely.  In another thread where this question came up, someone posted that Sep took the name Sonellion from real world texts.

The WoTC writeup is fairly different.  IDHMYBWM but I believe their writeup portrays her as an advanced succubus with levels in fiend of possession and fiend of corruption (from the Fiends Folio).  I like the WoTC writeup but she's not the cthonic creature Sep posted in his Rogue's Gallery thread.


----------



## Sejs

grodog said:
			
		

> Perhaps the Adversary, who was green IIRC, is now Nwm?




Heh, well the Adversary was described as having olive skin, but I'm pretty sure he wasn't talking about the kind you see in martinis.    


Oh, and question - did Ortwine's bit with the dagger set off alarm bells for anyone else?


----------



## Avarice

Seravin said:
			
		

> Not very closely.  In another thread where this question came up, someone posted that Sep took the name Sonellion from real world texts.
> 
> The WoTC writeup is fairly different.  IDHMYBWM but I believe their writeup portrays her as an advanced succubus with levels in fiend of possession and fiend of corruption (from the Fiends Folio).  I like the WoTC writeup but she's not the cthonic creature Sep posted in his Rogue's Gallery thread.




I could be wrong, but I seem to recall Sep having said that the 'real world' Soneillon was neither a female, nor associated with seduction.  If someone at WotC isn't reading this Story Hour, then its an awfully interesting coincidence.


----------



## Nifft

Seravin said:
			
		

> [Sonellion] ... IDHMYBWM but I believe their writeup portrays her as an advanced succubus with levels in fiend of possession and fiend of corruption




I Don't Have My Year Book With Me?!?

 -- N, scared of the Real Old School


----------



## DestyNova

jmucchiello said:
			
		

> What does that have to do with the Queen presumably being Ortwin?
> 
> Though I did miss the signifigance of the kid in my first read....





Err.. Does that meen that Titilvous's(sp) line about the various demons/devils becoming 'bashly blushing schoolchildren, lining up for redemption' has come true?  :\


----------



## Salthorae

Sejs said:
			
		

> Oh, and question - did Ortwine's bit with the dagger set off alarm bells for anyone else?




I completely read over that the first time through, but now that you've pointed it out I went back...and it is an eerie line


----------



## Seravin

Nifft said:
			
		

> I Don't Have My Year Book With Me?!?
> 
> -- N, scared of the Real Old School



I think it means I can't type or proofread...  
It was suppose to be "I don't have my books with me." - apparently I spelled out 'my'.


----------



## the Jester

Sejs said:
			
		

> Oh, and question - did Ortwine's bit with the dagger set off alarm bells for anyone else?




I'll give that a hell yeah.


----------



## Gez

Avarice said:
			
		

> I could be wrong, but I seem to recall Sep having said that the 'real world' Soneillon was neither a female, nor associated with seduction.  If someone at WotC isn't reading this Story Hour, then its an awfully interesting coincidence.




The posts in questions were a question by Grodog and Sep's reply.



			
				Grodog said:
			
		

> Is there a RL mythic tradition that makes Soneillon a succubus and demonic Queen of Harlots?
> 
> I ask because my old DM from Penn State and I have used her as such (we jointly developed our Abyssal rulers, and he created her), but in Gustav Davidson's _Dictionary of Angels_, Sonneillon (Sonnillon) is
> 
> _an angel, now fallen, once of the order of thrones. He is cited as one of 3 "devils" that possessed the body of the notorious 16th-century nun, Sister Louise Capeau (or Capelle)._​
> 
> Gygax's later New Infinities Gord novels don't include references to Soneillon (though info from the NIPI Gord books often found its way into the various D&D demons published during the 1980s and early 1990s). *Soneillon is listed in the 1e MM2 on page 35 among the "Rulers of the Abyss," where she's designated as a female and lady of a layer rather than a full princess*.
> 
> So, my question is, does anyone else know of a history that links Soneillon with succubi and harlots?
> 
> Thanks






			
				Sep said:
			
		

> *As far as I know the 'RL' Soneillon is linked with hatred (as one of the seven deadly sins) and is a male demon* - it was only in the 1e MMII that she was listed as female.
> 
> Interesting that you also had her pegged as a kind of uber-succubus, though - I'd had the same role assigned to her in a campaign I was running 12 years ago, or so. *I wonder if she was mentioned in an old Dragon mag or something?*




Emphasises mines.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

A shorter update. I'm trying to keep things to 1000 words or so.
Mostly backstory.

***


*ORTWINE*


Some millennia before – at a time when most of Wyre sat beneath hundreds of feet of ice – a sidhe-cambion named Suoninguhol had ruled the demiplane of Afqithan. 

His succession had been swift and brutal, and accompanied by all manner of atrocious acts – as was common in the history of the place. The previous tyrant – the Loquai sorceress Mileze – escaped to Azzagrat where, in Graz'zt's court, she plotted revenge. Mileze had enjoyed several powerful Abyssal sponsors – a fact which, in itself, testified to her ability – but was, at that time, sworn to Zelatar. 

When Graz'zt inevitably moved demons into Afqithan – the Prince was notoriously possessive of worlds he had annexed – most observers were shocked by the fact that Suoninguhol resisted all attempts to displace him from his fortress. Over the course of a year, Graz'zt attempted in various ways to wrest the castle – which contained a strategically vital _gate_ to Azzagrat* – from Suoninguhol's grasp. Balors and mariliths were thrown against the stronghold, teams of kelvezu were dispatched to eliminate Suoninguhol, and powerful magics were invoked: the Prince even went so far as to manifest a body within Afqithan in an effort to directly assail the barrier which the cambion had erected. Nothing was effective. To make matters worse, Mileze was ambushed and slain by Suoninguhol's sister, Koilimilou, forcing Graz'zt to identify a new instrument of his will. 

Frustrated, Graz'zt retreated his spirit to the Argent Palace, and contrived a spell which would peel Suoninguhol's fortress away from Afqithan and fling it into some nameless Abyssal plane wracked by negative energy. Despite his prognostications to the contrary, Graz'zt's spell failed, sending the Prince into a violent rage. 

When he finally emerged from his tirade, Graz'zt swallowed his immense pride and negotiated a settlement with Suoninguhol – content to wait and extract his revenge at a more opportune time. He occupied himself with attempting to learn the identity the cambion's sponsor (the Prince had no doubt that Suoninguhol possessed one), and to groom his own chosen candidate – a Loquai named Irknaan – in the duties expected of a loyal subject of Azzagrat. 

Time passed. Graz'zt became distracted in wars with Orcus, Soneillon and Fraz Urb'luu. Suoninguhol entrenched himself yet further, tightening his grip on Afqithan and compacting hundreds of fiends from a variety of interested demonic parties. His ascendancy seemed assured until, abruptly and without warning, Suoninguhol vanished. News quickly found its way to Zelatar, prompting Graz'zt to again invest the demiplane and, this time, successfully install Irknaan as king. Koilimilou was captured, but Irknaan chose to humiliate rather than eliminate her.

The _gate_ was reopened and, for a while, Graz'zt was content. Afqithan's status was monitored by the Prince's demons, and Irknaan paid a hefty tribute for which he gained recognition in Azzagrat. Graz'zt's minions became favoured compactees of Loquai sorcerers; Loquai mercenaries found themselves fighting in wars from Yutuf to Throile. Suoninguhol's abode became known as Irknaan's Fortress, and the new king was left to explore and expand the nineteen sub-levels below it.

*

When Irknaan's Fortress passed into Ortwine's possession, the Sidhe inherited something of a mixed fortune.

The castle was established upon a precipitous bastion of rock, unscalable from three sides, and reached by a narrow path cut into the sheer wall of the fourth; although assault from the ground was as an afterthought to its real defense. Its highest towers, which soared many hundreds of feet into the purple skies, were linked with bridges less than a foot wide: each hung like a strand of silk which glistened in the dusk. All of the fortress – except for a reception chamber to which a previous queen had pactbonded a dozen of the largest jariliths – was _dimensionally locked_ against unwanted intrusion, but demons could still be conjured and bound within. Its interior could not be _scried_. The outcrop itself was reinforced by a spell of tremendous power, wrought long before by a goddess named Shuae.

The art of the Loquai suffused the place, with moving murals and columns of shadow, fashioned by magic over long centuries. The air whispered as one walked through the lofty and insubstantial upper halls, but the deep chambers seemed to have walls of impossible density: here all sound was muted, and light subdued. Carven reliefs, which displayed scenes of glorious hunts – or grotesque tortures – writhed as their stories unfolded to the observer. Broad stairs led to a wide platform upon which were roosted the four remaining tenebrous griffons, and the evil specimen once owned by Duke Ytryn – a chimaeric monster of unique form and singular foul disposition. Ortwine had tried, without success, to subdue the beast; it remained tethered by a two-hundred pound chain of adamant to a plinth of unbreakable marble.

At its deepest point, in a cleft which had been hewn into the bedrock by some unknown force, lay the now-sealed _gate_ to Azzagrat; above it lay the summoning rooms, with a jackal-headed arcanadaemon confined in a circle of _binding_ by Mileze long before. There was a cavern in which eerie shades moved across still waters; a repository of tomes written in dead and forgotten languages; a forge, where Ainhorr had maintained a team of Azer smiths; quickling warrens, and chambers filled with torture devices. An armory of Faerie weapons, in a vault which was guarded by a _symbol of insanity_ placed by Mostin, now housed the ten-foot vorpal sword _Heedless_. 

Gnome thralls moved silently and efficiently throughout the castle, and a handful of quicklings – enchanted to obey Ortwine's desires – were still retained by the Queen. Gaggles of minor sprites hovered and chattered continually, and bearded feys with cudgels and pipes sang and caroused with nymphs and sylphs in the many small courtyards. Walled gardens, once home to bloodthorns and viper trees, now also contained more benign shrubbery – although Ortwine had allowed a few demonic saplings to remain, mainly as a curiosity.

The Queen knew that Irknaan's Fortress sat upon a crossroad of realities, and for her, the World of Men was never more than a step away. Yet if one rode beyond the limit of burgeoning Faerie, the umbral taint of Afqithan still clung.** Invoked at the climax of the _incident_, as Mostin had wrily dubbed it, the planar rift was a growing at an exceptional rate: it would take a mere two millennia for Afqithan to be entirely subsumed by Faerie. Understanding the cartography of the place had been Ortwine's first task to herself: mentally cataloging every _gate_ and portal (there were many); identifying areas where other worlds were closest; understanding each nuance in Afqithan's planar symmetry. Knowing which paths which led to sylvan glades, and which led to haunted copses.

Her hegemony stretched into Faerie, across wide tracts of forest and heath-covered moorlands, within which were hidden deep, wooded ravines. Beyond them lay mountains, a wide river, and the courts of noble sidhe in realms which stretched through space and time. In Afqithan itself – where the remnants of the Loquai numbered a few hundred – her rule was uncontested. Menicau, three times a turncoat, still dwelt in her citadel, but even she presented no threat, and had bowed her head in deference. A dozen other families retained estates with Ortwine's permission. But the Queen herself kept no Loquai, demon or cambion in her train.


Ortwine surveyed the land south of her walls. Trees which had sprung over the heaped corpses of fiends; the great contusions in the ground – caused when Azazel smote Irzho from the sky, and the balor had fallen like a black comet – now covered with green creepers. The chasm, caused by Soneillon's final realization of nonexistence,  become a deep pool to which mist clung, with an air only of deep sorrow. Nwm's hand, at work.

The Sidhe-Queen pulled a pair of leather gloves over her hands, shifted her scimitar, and tied her hair back. Her perception changed momentarily as she walked between worlds: from Afqithan, to an area of grassy knolls in Methelhar, near the borders of Nizkur Forest. She retrieved a small, ornate box from her belt pouch, performed a complex manual operation, and whispered nine syllables of power. 

A _shadow avenue_ opened to Deorham. There, she would meet with Nwm, who would bear her to Sisperi: the Goddess Lai had requested an audience with her, and Ortwine had grudgingly agreed. 





*The _gate_ to Azzagrat is of ancient origin. It is constructed, not natural: the result of an immensely potent spell. It cannot be freely _disjoined_, and the ward protecting it would require a large and powerful cabal to penetrate. It can be _sealed_ – presumably the intention is to allow it to function as a door which can be locked from either side.

**The initial bubble of Faerie invoked by Teppu was four virtual miles in diameter, with Irknaan's Fortress at the dead centre.


----------



## the Jester

_Awesome._

Sep- it seems you've found a pace that works for you.  Personally, I've found that my updates average 1000-1200 words, but range from about 500-2500.  I find it much more satisfying to post less more often, than to post huge updates once every great while. 

Thanks for the update!


----------



## Krafus

All right, so we now know that Nwm is still alive... It looks like you're giving us a "status report" on each of the four PCs. I look forward to Nwm's - he hadn't been seen in a while at the end of the previous thread.


----------



## rantipole

Sep,

Great to have you back. The updates are excellent--though also tantalizing. I really want to know more of what happened at the big battle. The glimpses you provide in this update are intriguing. You are, as ever, inspiring. Thank you.


----------



## Jackylhunter

Yep, great update...Sep, you're doing fine...=)


----------



## Anabstercorian

Fantastic!  As ever you thrill me with your turgid prose and so forth.  You describe high magic and fantasy with a vivid air that any professional would envy.

I wish I could play in your game. @.@


----------



## Sejs

> Ortwine surveyed the land south of her walls. Trees which had sprung over the heaped corpses of fiends; the great contusions in the ground – caused when Azazel smote Irzho from the sky, and the balor had fallen like a black comet – now covered with green creepers. The chasm, caused by Soneillon's final realization of nonexistence, become a deep pool to which mist clung, with an air only of deep sorrow. Nwm's hand, at work.




I've got to admit, I am really enjoying your approach to dealing with the time gap between the previous 'chapter' and now.  

Everything old is new again.  Kudos, and thank you.


----------



## coyote6

Had to add -- I'm also liking the "some time later" approach. 



			
				Anabstercorian said:
			
		

> Fantastic!  As ever you thrill me with your turgid prose and so forth.




Err, turgid prose isn't usually considered a _good_ thing...


----------



## Greybar

coyote6 said:
			
		

> Err, turgid prose isn't usually considered a _good_ thing...




Well, the first definition isn't too bad.  I must say I had the same reaction and used dictionary.com as well.  I wouldn't say *excessively* ornate.  But then, I enjoyed The Worm Ouroboros by E. R. Eddison


----------



## Vorlon

*Glad you're back*

I've been lurking here for over a year now, and I'm happy you've got the writing bug again.  I originally found this site because a friend of mine introduced me to the Tales of Wyre, and while I love the story, it is YOUR story, so write it the way you want to, when you want to without feeling any pressure to appease anyone else.  I don't care what you write, I don't care IF you write (lie!), but I'm glad to see you are writing again as long as you enjoy doing it.  

That goes for any of the excellent story authors here.  

I think I'm starting to ramble, so I'll go back to lurking now.


----------



## the Jester

Hey Vorlon, welcome to the boards!

Glad to see that Sep's still bringing in new blood, whether he wants to or not...


----------



## Roman

Yay, new update! I am happy.


----------



## Jackylhunter

I've said it before, but this story, about these characters, Re-re-defines the term 'EPIC'.  

Mucho kudos to Sep and his players.


----------



## Jumbie

I just wrote the most difficult exam I've ever had in my life. I need an update to cheer me up.

@Roman - UBC Grad here. Hkin 2003.


----------



## Warrior Poet

Jackylhunter said:
			
		

> I've said it before, but this story, about these characters, Re-re-defines the term 'EPIC'.
> 
> Mucho kudos to Sep and his players.



Well said.

Warrior Poet


----------



## Eluvan

Hmmm. I've been reading this Story Hour since before I registered, but it occurs to me that I'm not sure I've ever posted my admiration.

 So... I'll add my voice to the multitudes and say 'Sep, you rock!' 

 Thanks for starting to write again, and I hope you enjoy it as much as we do.


----------



## rantipole

*Update?*

Update, oh Update. Where for art thou, Update? 

I hope Sep posts one soon. The two we've gotten have just whetted my appetite for more. 

In other news, I was at Book Expo America this weekend and got some free stuff from the WOTC booth. Included was the new book from the Eberron campaign world on the city of Sharn. It looked interesting just paging through it, and sort of made me want to a) run an Eberron campaign and b) start running my campaign again and finish the damn thing. 

OK. Back to work. 

Cheers,


----------



## Jeph

rantipole said:
			
		

> Update, oh Update. Where for art thou, Update?





A pet peeve of mine: 'wherefore' does not mean _where_. It means _why_.

As in, when Juliet says "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo," she's lamenting the fact that her lover's last name is Montague, not wondering where he's gotten off to.


----------



## Pants

Gah! The confrontation on Afqithan is sounding more and more... errm 'epic' with every update.   

I must know more! 

That said, glad to see you updating again Sep, I was suffering severe withdrawls for a while there. As always, your work is beyond superb and I am in awe at your command of the English language. Kudos, and I hope this never becomes 'just a job' for you. Write for yourself and don't hesitate to take breaks.


----------



## rantipole

Jeph said:
			
		

> A pet peeve of mine: 'wherefore' does not mean _where_. It means _why_.
> 
> As in, when Juliet says "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo," she's lamenting the fact that her lover's last name is Montague, not wondering where he's gotten off to.





Well, that shows you how closely I've read "Romeo and Juliet."    Seriously though, that is good to know. I like to use words correctly as much as possible, even archaic ones.

Cheers,

rantipole


----------



## Jackylhunter

Pants said:
			
		

> Gah! The confrontation on Afqithan is sounding more and more... errm 'epic' with every update.
> 
> I must know more!





I"m hoping my hero Nwm, (who we haven't heard from yet, BTW) laid the smacketh down on the lot of them.


----------



## Monster Mash

Jackylhunter said:
			
		

> I"m hoping my hero Nwm, (who we haven't heard from yet, BTW) laid the smacketh down on the lot of them.




Sounds like Soneillon did something extreme during the battle, and perhaps Nwm transformed the result somehow?  Or contained it? Hmmm...or maybe caused it. Could Nwm have slapped down Soneillon?

-Monster Mash


----------



## Jackylhunter

Monster Mash said:
			
		

> Could Nwm have slapped down Soneillon?




Not sure, she's was(is?) pretty powerful.  But again, Nwm was in his low to mid 20s when we saw him last, and I thought he had a number of epic spells on him too.  Then add to that the Vow of Poverty creamy goodness(tm), and I think he might have given her a run for her money.

Also, it might not have been Soneillon, we don't know what happend to Grazz't(sp).  And then there are those pesky cult-ists of (something-something), maybe the [sleeping?] Gods they worshipped, came back and were pissed...


----------



## Pants

Jackylhunter said:
			
		

> Also, it might not have been Soneillon, we don't know what happend to Grazz't(sp).



It mentions that the gate to Azzagrat in Irknaan's (former) fortress was closed on both sides, by Mostin and Graz'zt. I think it's safe to say that Graz'zt survived.


----------



## Lela

Pants said:
			
		

> It mentions that the gate to Azzagrat in Irknaan's (former) fortress was closed on both sides, by Mostin and Graz'zt. I think it's safe to say that Graz'zt survived.



 But something still could have happened to him.


----------



## ajanders

Lela said:
			
		

> But something still could have happened to him.




Unlikely if the Cult of Cheshne is trying to summon him to Wyre.  Especially if Mostin's worried about it...he'd probably just sell magical videotapes of "Wyre's Funniest Magical Mishaps" if they were summoning a being that no longer existed.
If he's worried, Grazz't's not dead.

Soneillon, on the other hand, finally merged with cthonic nonbeing.  I imagine doing that had some collateral effects that needed extensive management from Nwm and Teppu.  Certainly ultimate nonbeing is opposed to viridity.


----------



## Lela

ajanders said:
			
		

> Certainly ultimate nonbeing is opposed to viridity.




It definitally isn't not opposed to viridity.

I just meant that something besides death or being sealed away could have happened to him.


----------



## Qwernt

Lela said:
			
		

> It definitally isn't not opposed to viridity.
> 
> I just meant that something besides death or being sealed away could have happened to him.




I wonder if that is what was meant when the Sela thought "An Adversary taunting him with a Green Void"...


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Apologies for my absence. I've - er - recently purchased an X-Box. I'm sure you understand. I'll shoot for an update around mid-week.


----------



## tleilaxu

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> Apologies for my absence. I've - er - recently purchased an X-Box. I'm sure you understand. I'll shoot for an update around mid-week.


----------



## Someone

I wonder if a Halo 2 or Call of duty II story hour is on the way.


----------



## Branok

Jackylhunter said:
			
		

> Noooooooo, not another X-Box Junkie...Lol...=)
> 
> more importantly...WHEEEEE, new update coming soon..../cheer




Hey, I think its safe to say that a lot of us are video-game junkies (if not XBOX junkies in particular  , which I happen to be). I just finished playing through Splinter Cell: Chaos Theory, and I get this surprise when I enter the site to check on the thread, . Well, I know its hard Sep, but try not to get TOO hooked, 

Anxiously waiting for an update (for lack of a cornier way to ask for it, )
Branok


----------



## Cheiromancer

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> Apologies for my absence. I've - er - recently purchased an X-Box. I'm sure you understand. I'll shoot for an update around mid-week.




I was worried by your absence from the boards.  I was hoping that it was not a health, work or family emergency that was keeping you away.  I am much relieved at the real explanation.


----------



## Lela

Just out of curiosity, which games did you get?


----------



## Rary the Traitor

Glad to see you're back, Sep. I loooooove the interaction between Mostin and the other high level wizards.

P.S.: Buy Ninja Gaiden!
P.P.S.: But don't buy it until you've posted a few more updates.
P.P.P.S.: And don't buy it at all unless you have good reflexes or lots of patience.


----------



## Rackhir

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> Apologies for my absence. I've - er - recently purchased an X-Box. I'm sure you understand. I'll shoot for an update around mid-week.




More proof that the X-Box is EVIL!!! It's been stopping Sep from writing updates! Evil! Evil! I Tell you! Evil!


----------



## Pants

Rackhir said:
			
		

> More proof that the X-Box is EVIL!!! It's been stopping Sep from writing updates! Evil! Evil! I Tell you! Evil!



At least he hasn't started playing WoW or Everquest II.


----------



## Cheiromancer

I had no idea that X-box games were so addictive.    

Hopefully July will bring us some sepulchral goodness.


----------



## Campbell

If we wait, he will post.


----------



## Rackhir

Time for some madlibs?

Eadric was horrified when he saw Sonellion and Ortwin ________________. He couldn't ________ that they both ________________. However he found some _____________, when Nwm said ___________________. Fortunately they had ____________________ to ____________________, just __________________________ lunch.


----------



## Seule

Rackhir said:
			
		

> Time for some madlibs?
> 
> Eadric was horrified when he saw Sonellion and Ortwin baking cookies. He couldn't understand that they both liked baking. However he found some comfort, when Nwm said "Here, have some cookies". Fortunately they had eaten too much to finish dessert, just after lunch.




No?  It makes sense to me...

  --Seule


----------



## Sejs

Rackhir said:
			
		

> Time for some madlibs?
> 
> Eadric was horrified when he saw Sonellion and Ortwin putting on a puppet show. He couldn't believe that they both were using his puppets without permission again. However he found some peace of mind, when Nwm said that they'd promissed to put Eadric's puppets back where they'd found them, just as soon as the show was over. Fortunately they had only a small audience to entertain, just a few local children whose parents had dropped them off while they went to go grab a quick spot of lunch.





There we go.  Nothing like a nice bit of lunch-time puppetry.

_Forbidden_ puppetry...


----------



## Gez

A homage to Peyo:

Eadric was horrified when he saw Sonellion and Ortwin smurfing. He couldn't smurf that they both smurfed. However he found some smurf, when Nwm said he had smurfs to smurf. Fortunately they had smurfed back to smurfing, just in smurf for lunch.


----------



## Warrior Poet

Sep, if you have a few moments, I'm just curious:  what ever happened to the Divertimento game you ran/wrote about lo, those many moons ago?  I'm not looking for an update to the story, but just wondering if you all still play that as a break from your other campaign?

I remember that as another moment that really solidified, in my mind, your skills as a writer, because it wasn't just that you were good when writing about Eadric, Nwm, Ortwin, Mostin, and their adventures, but you were also good when writing about a different setting, in different circumstances.  Anyway, it was good stuff, and I wondered about it recently, and was just curious.



			
				sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> Apologies for my absence. I've - er - recently purchased an X-Box.



Five words:  Grand. Theft. Auto. San. Andreas.

Happy X-Boxing!

Warrior Poet


----------



## Rackhir

Warrior Poet said:
			
		

> Sep, if you have a few moments, I'm just curious: what ever happened to the Divertimento game you ran/wrote about lo, those many moons ago?




Hmm, I must have missed this. Was this posted in the Story Hour Forum?


----------



## Lela

Rackhir said:
			
		

> Hmm, I must have missed this. Was this posted in the Story Hour Forum?




It was on the boards but I can't find it now.

But I did find this:
http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?t=16609

Which looks similar (it's from 2002 y'all, don't get too excited).


----------



## grodog

The old URL was http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?t=42147 and even using the new URL scheme of http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?t=42147 doesn't work   Any moderators have any idea what's up??


----------



## Eridanis

Hmm. Let me see what I can find.

Did a little pruning while I was here, too.


----------



## grodog

Eridanis said:
			
		

> Hmm. Let me see what I can find.




Thanks Eridanis


----------



## Warrior Poet

Rackhir said:
			
		

> Hmm, I must have missed this. Was this posted in the Story Hour Forum?



Sorry, been away awhile and didn't realize this had been asked.

Yeah, it was in SH forum, but unfortunately, when I said "many moons ago," what I really meant was years.

It's been a long time.  It was only three or four posts of actual story, but it just rocked, and it felt different from Wyre and those scenes, but still had that Sepulchrave II "feel" to the writing, and it was really interesting.  One of those that you just want to know more about the characters.

I don't know where it'd be now, if it's not in the archives.  Sorry for the confusion.

Warrior Poet


----------



## grodog

Warrior Poet said:
			
		

> Sorry, been away awhile and didn't realize this had been asked.
> 
> Yeah, it was in SH forum, but unfortunately, when I said "many moons ago," what I really meant was years. [snip]
> 
> I don't know where it'd be now, if it's not in the archives.  Sorry for the confusion.




I think I have it archived, will have to check when I get home....


----------



## gloomymarshes

But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "but Sep. has posted once before;
On the morrow he will post again, as my hopes have flown before!"
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."


----------



## grodog

grodog said:
			
		

> I think I have it archived, will have to check when I get home....




I did have Divertimento saved, and I posted it to Sep's Wyre Yahoo Group at http://games.groups.yahoo.com/group/Sepulchraves-Wyre/files/ and then select the Divertimento file.  You have to be a member to download files, but group membership is free and open.

Enjoy!


----------



## Dakkareth

By the way, I've taken to quoting you in philosophical discussion ...



> TRAMST: To Fall is to reject that which you have experienced to be true, in favour of that which you know, in your heart, to be false.




One of my favourite lines


----------



## Journeyman

Sep,

Great creation you have here.  Unique enough to make me come out of the shadows, and remove you from the absurdity of Wyre on page three.

Please post, I mean we are writing, or viewing, Wyre ab-libs!  

WWMD?  What would Mostin Do?



J-man


----------



## Cheiromancer

Here's something that I've been wondering about lately.

Are the heroes of Sep's SH losing their humanity?  I don't mean whether their subtype is still [humanoid] or whether they have templates; I mean their outlook is no longer human.

I mean, Eadric is all beyond-good-or-evil, dating a succubus queen.  (Well, I guess he *was* dating a succubus queen.  Who knows what he's dating now.)  He seems to have little fear of scandalizing peasants.  Mostin has transcended humanity and become an eyelidless native outsider.  He is obsessed with every greater transcendence.  Ortwin is a sidhe, and so has the boredom/detachment issues of the fey, and is cross-gendered besides.  If he's not feeling guilty about how he treated his wife, he should be.  Nwm's world view seems to have been transformed, as is symbolized by the VoP he took.  Mulissu is dead.  Shomei is dead.

I have no idea how far the campaign has advanced beyond the point of the last update, but it seems that our heroes have gone so far beyond the conventional that they would no longer fit into society.  Death, paradigm destroying experiences and great power have made them beyond human.

Thoughts?


----------



## Moleculo

I would definately agree. It seems natural though, that they would have to transcend typically human interests or else fall into ennui/nihilism (ie get tired of playing thier characters).


----------



## Rackhir

Journeyman said:
			
		

> WWMD?  What would Mostin Do?




Ah young one, you obviously have not perused the sacred texts enough, for we already know the answer to this questions.

"If I were a political animal – which, of course, I am not, because that would violate the Great Injunction," he coughed, and stroked Mogus. "If I were, however, I would marry the Duchess, storm and secure the palace, assassinate the king, usurp the crown, and retroengineer all of my bloodlines to validate my claim to the throne. I would then begin to ruthlessly suppress any resistance to my rule, and have all of my chief rivals murdered. That’s the way it’s usually done, isn’t it? Except, in your case, you could claim divine right as well. I would declare myself Eadric I, Holy Emperor of Wyre and the Voice of Oronthon on Earth. I would unite Church and State into a single, seamless body. I would also issue commands to the effect that all avians must be shot on sight. A golden, birdless era of peace and prosperity would dawn across Wyre."


----------



## Lela

Rackhir said:
			
		

> I would also issue commands to the effect that all avians must be shot on sight. A golden, birdless era of peace and prosperity would dawn across Wyre."




All hail Mostin.  May the birds fall from their great, and unearned, heights.  All hail Mostin.


----------



## Jarl

In the earlier stages in the campaign, Eadric and the lot were confronted with entities like Titivilus which must have seemed alien to them at first. 
From one perspective I think they have gotten closer to the paradigms of devils and other überhumane entities if they really have put their humanities behind to deal with the epic struggles personally. Take on Graz'zt in a face to face manner, instead of doing it so that life can go on in Morne or whatever. Do you understand, or think I'm wrong maybe?


----------



## Shadow at the Edge

Is it just me or has this thread been dead for about a year now, apart from a little 'dead cat bounce'?


----------



## the Jester

Shadow at the Edge said:
			
		

> Is it just me or has this thread been dead for about a year now, apart from a little 'dead cat bounce'?




Last update = 5/15/05.

Granted, it was a while before that one- but never give up hope.


----------



## Cheiromancer

July and November of 2004, thrice in May of this year.  Maybe that should count as one big update.  But, yeah.


----------



## jmucchiello

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> July and November of 2004, thrice in May of this year.  Maybe that should count as one big update.  But, yeah.



Oy, that implies the time between updates is expanding: Jul-Nov = 4 months, Nov-May = 6 months, so the next update shouldn't occur until..... Dec. Ugh.  

Hopefully the smileys don't become a symbol of irony in December....


----------



## ForceUser

Writing a neverending story is hard work, and at some point one just has to take a break. Sep's given us a lot of words for nothing in return. I, for one, am grateful for what he chose to share with us.


----------



## Suldulin

ditto, I still wish he would either:

Compile it into a novel, sell it, make money (I know I would buy it even with having read it here. . . I can imagine it now. . . getting the first book, holding it in my hands, touching the cover, breathing in that new book smell, it would be my precioussss)

I do not doubt that it would be bigger than the Wheel of Time, it's already better than that here.

Set up a donation thing, so that we may encourage him to write more or the like. . .


----------



## William Ronald

I thought I would take the time to do some rereading.  I do have a quick question.  Which thread has the resolution of the great battle.  (I remember reading it, and that Graz'zt made his first appearance to Eadric via a gate.)  Good updates, Sep.  Hoperfully, we will see one soon.


----------



## Fimmtiu

Another point that I thought I'd mention... has anyone else noticed that the female characters in Sepulchrave's campaign seem to invariably come to bad ends? I mean, not that I'm criticizing Sep or anything; I just thought it was an interesting trend. Consider:

Soraine: Fried to a cinder by Rimilin, outside of Morne.
Nehael: Has her lips cut off, imprisoned in state of indescribable torture.
Mulissu: Murdered by her own daughter.
Iua: Possessed, forced to murder her mother, taken to the Abyss.
Shomei: Dies permanently somehow in the battle for Afqithan.
Soneillon: Ditto.
Nhura: Probably ditto.
Jetheeg: Probably ditto.
Threxu: Slain by Nwm.
Uzmi: Slain at Khu.
Nufrut: Trapped in a _magic jar_.
Breama: Killed at the battle of the Nund.
Melancholy: Divested of its wielder, eaten by a nature spirit.

And a cast of succubi too large to mention... seems like a succubus gets offed in practically every other post. I assume Nhura and her pals must have died in the Afqithan battle, or else Ortwine wouldn't be Queen there. Not yet sure what happened to Koilimilou or Tarva. Jalael has only just now appeared in person in the story, so it's too early to tell for her.

The only exceptions seem to be Mesikammi, who (as far as one can tell from the limited information in the Story Hour) seems to have disposed of Melancholy and then ridden off into the sunset with Hullu; and Hlioth, who seems undamaged by recent events. Did I leave any non-deific named characters out?


----------



## Rackhir

William Ronald said:
			
		

> I thought I would take the time to do some rereading.  I do have a quick question.  Which thread has the resolution of the great battle.  (I remember reading it, and that Graz'zt made his first appearance to Eadric via a gate.)  Good updates, Sep.  Hoperfully, we will see one soon.




If you are talking about the battle in Afquitain. The one where Mostin had the massive dimentional lock and 20 or so Reality Storms going and had just summoned The Horror. It hasn't been posted. That was one of the things he apparently got hung up on in trying to write up the story hour. So he skipped over it to start this thread.



			
				Fimmtiu said:
			
		

> Another point that I thought I'd mention... has anyone else noticed that the female characters in Sepulchrave's campaign seem to invariably come to bad ends? I mean, not that I'm criticizing Sep or anything; I just thought it was an interesting trend.




First off all of those characters are NPCs and most of them are enemies of Eadric and friends. Or at best very loosely allied (Sonellion and her sucubi). BTW, Nehael was freed shortly before the big battle in Aquiftain. Also most deaths are permenent in Sep's campaign. Ortwin/Ortwine only gets to keep coming back because he is friends with Nwm who is high enough to cast Reincarnate.


----------



## Lela

He'll toss out a _True Reincarnate_, which Sep has ruled allows Nym, as the caster, to choose what the recipient will come back as.


----------



## Warrior Poet

Rackhir said:
			
		

> BTW, Nehael was freed shortly before the big battle in Aquiftain.



I either missed this, or my memory is going bad (equal chance of both, I guess).  Was this the event of viridity that seemed to grow around her while she was in the Abyss, or am I remembering it incorrectly?

Can you point me to what happened to her afterwards?  Thanks.

Warrior Poet


----------



## Rackhir

Warrior Poet said:
			
		

> I either missed this, or my memory is going bad (equal chance of both, I guess).  Was this the event of viridity that seemed to grow around her while she was in the Abyss, or am I remembering it incorrectly?
> 
> Can you point me to what happened to her afterwards?  Thanks.
> 
> Warrior Poet




*Tales of Wyre: The Compiled Sepulchrave Story Hour (updated 05/15) Thanks to Cheiromancer - Page 3, Post 86*

"In Morne, the Sela sat in a state of saizhan, the interaction of entities of tremendous power appearing merely as facets of the dialectic revealed to consciousness. Whether his mind reflected reality, or reality responded to his intention was unknown. Causality, synchronicity and coincidence: all were meaningless terms.

The Messenger reached an interface. A bubble of separation. Sealed, inviolable; the labour of centuries of sorcery. Even before he touched it, Rintrah knew that he could not penetrate it. 

Oronthon Magnified him. He passed effortlessly through. 

Pain waited beyond. It was as if all the agony in the cosmos had been distilled into this single space, mere yards across: a perfect sphere, the walls of which were graven with glyphs and runes of torment. Their power passed over the celestial, and around him, and through him, but caused less than the slightest discomfort. Rintrah's eyes, incandescent with potency now, glanced upwards to behold a semblance of a form: wracked, inchoate, stretched and twisted beyond recognition, its pattern diffuse at its margins. It seemed as if the slightest of breezes would cause it to evaporate. Its grasp on existence was tenuous.

Under the force of the Planetar's selfless Will, the quiddity of the sphere began to change, and reshaped itself according to his direction. Empty space assumed pleasing forms: a tree, a small pool with lilies, a tiny rock garden. The upper hemisphere gave off a soft, azure radiance, reminiscent of a cloudless day in late summer.

Rintrah rested briefly: the effort of creation was not insignificant. He glanced at the artificial sky, still etched with sigils of dreadful power which emanated madness and pain, before his wings lifted him gently aloft. As his hand trailed lightly over the runes, each one shattered, disjoined into its separate components. They fell like a silver dust upon the rockery, or to float upon the surface of the pool.

The formless thing, still suspended in the centre of the sphere, quivered palpably and then relaxed. For an instant, Rintrah was concerned that the sudden removal of the tension that it had experienced might cause it to dissociate. He swiftly grasped the essence and held it in his hands. Cohesion and perception returned to it. Responsive to the celestial's ministrations, it corporeated rapidly. 

Rintrah laid her by the bole of the tree, hallowed the sphere, and vanished. Nehael slept for the first time in her immeasurably long existence.


The Sela shifted his position, and a single bead of sweat trickled from his temple. It had been a particularly difficult meditation."

*I'm fairly certain this next part is about Nehael. 99%, but 

Tales of Wyre: The Compiled Sepulchrave Story Hour (updated 05/15) Thanks to Cheiromancer - Page 3, Post 100*


"She stood, and looked again at the tree for a long while.

It had an oddly compelling quality, which drew one's eyes to it and evoked a desire to run hands over soft, smooth bark. Its height and girth suggested that it was old, but it possessed a quality which seemed…youthful. Strange for a tree. 

Around its base, bright flowers sprang between rocks and trailed into a pool fed by a small spring. The water moved, but she couldn't determine where it went, after it left the pool. Curious, she thought. She looked at the tree again.

Sometimes, she felt that it was watching her. 

She gazed around, and wondered what else there was out there. Away from the tree. More than once, she had determined to leave – to walk away from the tree. To explore. But she never did.

Why leave the tree, after all? Whatever else there was, it couldn't be better than the tree.

She lay down against its warm bole, and it seemed to embrace her. She watched thoughts and memories pass through her mind, and wondered who had experienced them. 

Bathe, she thought. 

She vaguely recalled the fact that she liked to bathe. It seemed like a good idea – although she was unsure whether it had risen unbidden in her mind, or the tree had prompted the desire. She rose, walked the short distance over to the pool, and slid into the water. It was the perfect depth, and the perfect temperature. She immersed her head briefly – as that seemed the right thing to do – before leaning back and relaxing against a rock, which seemed to fit her head and neck very comfortably.

She suddenly noticed a small figure – maybe two thirds her own height – sitting on a branch of the tree, with its legs dangling freely. It wore grey hose and a leaf-green waistcoat.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello," the other replied. "Are you happy?"

"Yes," she said.

"Good," the other smiled.

"Where did you come from?" She asked. "I haven't seen you before."

"I came from the tree."

"Ahh," she nodded. She hauled herself easily from the water, and walked back towards the tree. She noticed that now she was covered in tiny flecks of silver – she rubbed them gently, but they seemed somehow part of her skin.

"They will not come off," the other said.

"What are they?' She asked.

The other smiled sadly. "The memory of a great injustice."

She cocked her head inquisitively.

"It would take too long to explain," the other said. "Nor does it matter – the injustice never really happened now. Your transition is passed at last, and you have been finally surrendered: from one Truth to another. This place is two things: a prison hallowed by an angel, and a womb which has always been here. If sometimes the Truth that you chose seems cold and indifferent, then it is Her nature. Maybe She forgot you for a while. Don't blame Her: She doesn't love you any less."

"You think too much," she laughed. "What will happen now?"

"Something nobody expects," the other replied.

"And what is that?" She asked.

"A Viridity," the other said, his eyes blazing."

*Forshadowing is a sign of good writing.

Tales of Wyre: The Compiled Sepulchrave Story Hour (updated 05/15) Thanks to Cheiromancer - Page 3, Post 102*

AFQITHAN: PROLOGUE (Part 1)

[Soneillon]: If you should happen to slay Ainhorr today, you should grieve for him.
[Eadric]: (Contempt.)
[Soneillon]: Arrogance! You, at least, should lament his passing. A great warrior. Ever loyal to the master he loves and despises.
[Eadric]: Loves? Love is never that ugly.
[Soneillon]: Love is often that ugly, Eadric.
[Eadric]: And if you should perish today? How should I then react?
[Soneillon]: Exult in your memory, Eadric. Because nothing will ever again compare to me.
[Eadric]: For that, at least, I will be thankful.
[Soneillon]: You will be diminished.

*And this unfortunately is it as revealed so far. Go and meditate upon Saizhan.

Tales of Wyre: The Compiled Sepulchrave Story Hour (updated 05/15) Thanks to Cheiromancer - Page 3, Post 104*

AFQITHAN: (Part 1)
Nwm's eyes flashed open. He had been sitting beneath a fir-tree, listening to the soft pad, pad of an arctic fox, when he heard its pattern change in response to a new stimulus. Something else was close by. He waited.

The Druid inhaled sharply as she approached. She was beautiful. And curiously familiar.

She sat down in the snow before him, unabashed by her own nakedness, and smiled. Her skin possessed a soft, silver sheen, and her eyes – no longer demonic – were green within green.

"This is an unexpected pleasure," Nwm said wrily. "I should warn you: if my conversation seems stilted or awkward, it's because I haven't spoken for several months."

"Your social ineptitude was never much of a concern," she laughed.

"Can I assume that Eadric was successful in his efforts?" Nwm asked.

"Not yet." She raised an eyebrow. 

"I am unsure as to whether I should worship you or not."

"That is your choice. It makes no difference to me. What were you doing?"

"You know, Nehael, I don't really know. Waiting for you, I suppose. I don't imagine that there's a rational explanation for your presence here?"

"Certainly not."

"And what happens now?" Nwm asked.

Nehael laughed. "I asked that very question myself."

"And what answer did you receive?"

"'A Viridity,'" she replied.

"That is suitably vague," Nwm sighed.

"Strange," Nehael said drily. "I had the same reaction. There is something that I would like to share with you, Nwm. A place."

"What sort of place?" Nwm asked suspiciously.

"A sanctuary. An island of Green. An unassailable bastion. A womb."

Nwm felt a frisson of excitement as she spoke, but his voice was sceptical. "In my experience, nowhere is unassailable."

"Prepare to change your mind," Nehael smiled. She held out her hand, and he took it. Stretching forwards, she lightly touched the bark of the tree.

"Step into the tree," she said.

They dissolved into an ocean of jade, emerald and celadon. Another Tree, which was the same tree – it was, in fact, all trees – appeared.

*

Nwm quaked. His mind screamed in fear, and soared in awe. His breath became rapid and shallow. He was dumbstruck, unwilling to believe, but knowing that it was there.

"Eadric's forebears would have referred to it as the Tree-ludja," Nehael said softly, touching the Tree. "Yours would have called it Derv.**"

"What have you become?" Nwm asked her.

"You know what I am," Nehael smiled. "I am merely Nehael. But now the way is open. You first showed it to me. She remembers. That is why it is Tree, and not Lake or Storm."

Nwm swallowed. She alluded to things which made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. Gingerly, he reached out. 

Tree, he knew.

He looked out from the blackthorn in the courtyard of Kyrtill's Burh; from a huge banyan in Afqithan, around which demons clashed furiously; from a hornbeam with white bark and silver leaves, beneath which a goddess meditated; from a viper-tree amid a grove in Azzagrat, where acid rained and fire burned; from a lonely olive-tree on a deserted island in Pandicule; from a celestial oak which rose, impossibly perfect, upon the Blessed Plain.

Nwm withdrew his perception, and looked at Nehael.

"How?" He asked.

This Way, she showed him.***

"Is there more?"

"Oh, yes. There is much more."

"But to look into Hell? Oronthon's Heaven? These places are not…"

"Of the Green?" She offered. "I think you need to revise your understanding, Nwm. The Viridity is a transcendental principle: it does not care for conventional labels. Green just became a lot bigger."

"Who was the goddess beneath the tree?" He asked.

"Her name is Lai," Nehael smiled. "You will meet her in due course."

"What is her rôle?" He asked dubiously.

"She is a student. Of magic. Of nature. Her world is all but dead. You will like her – which is all to the good."

Nwm gave a quizzical look.

"A student needs a teacher," Nehael explained, "and a goddess needs a priest."


----------



## Warrior Poet

Rackhir said:
			
		

> Rintrah laid her by the bole of the tree, hallowed the sphere, and vanished. Nehael slept for the first time in her immeasurably long existence.



Thanks.  That's what I thought it was, just couldn't remember clearly.



			
				Rackhir said:
			
		

> *I'm fairly certain this next part is about Nehael. 99%, but *



*
Yes, me too.



			
				Rackhir said:
			
		


			"A Viridity," the other said, his eyes blazing."

Forshadowing is a sign of good writing.

Click to expand...



Which is, in turn, never in any dispute with this story hour.  To wit:



			
				Rackhir said:
			
		


			[Soneillon]: If you should happen to slay Ainhorr today, you should grieve for him.
[Eadric]: (Contempt.)
[Soneillon]: Arrogance! You, at least, should lament his passing. A great warrior. Ever loyal to the master he loves and despises.
[Eadric]: Loves? Love is never that ugly.
[Soneillon]: Love is often that ugly, Eadric.
[Eadric]: And if you should perish today? How should I then react?
[Soneillon]: Exult in your memory, Eadric. Because nothing will ever again compare to me.
[Eadric]: For that, at least, I will be thankful.
[Soneillon]: You will be diminished.
		
Click to expand...


If I could write half-as-well as this . . . 




Go and meditate upon Saizhan.

Click to expand...



Here I am, trying to transcend my duality.

Warrior Poet*


----------



## Cheiromancer

I too feel a frisson of excitement when I see "Viridity and Saizhan (updated..." on the forum main page.  I jump to the forum and check the date... unfortunately, it is still 5-15.

Ah well.  Well I am sure the SH is as much fun to write as it is to read, composing it must be even more difficult than waiting for it.  Poor Sep.


----------



## Thanatos

I'd *really, really* like to know how Soneillon died and if they managed to have any parting communication.

And why this last reincarnation had such an abrupt change of attitude on Ort.

I'd also really like to know if Eadric and Nehal have had any communication...after all, this was all originally about the 2 of them...waaaaay back in the beginning.


----------



## grodog

Thanatos said:
			
		

> And why this last reincarnation had such an abrupt change of attitude on Ort.




I don't think that it's been a sudden change, really:  Ortwin's always seemed very CN, very self-absorbed, and as he has progressed from male human bard ---> male satyr ---> female fey royalty.  I think that each transition has in fact amplified the nature of his personality, moving it further and further away from his formerly-human concerns.  IMO, of course.


----------



## Thanatos

Okay grodog...that makes a certain amount of sense...I Can see it in that kind of timeline...just seems a bit more servere from this last post then his last one as the satyr.

It's probably just the whole missing time in between.


----------



## jmucchiello

monthly bump


----------



## Gez

Why can't you let this poor thread lie in peace?


----------



## Lela

Gez said:
			
		

> Why can't you let this poor thread lie in peace?



 It's not dead.

And it has been a month.


----------



## Olive

Gez said:
			
		

> Why can't you let this poor thread lie in peace?




Because the central myth of Sep-Fandom is that Saint Horatio saved the stery through daily bumping. A monthly bump is our way of telling Sep that we still care.


----------



## Felix

Saint Horatio, Patron of Buried Story Hours


----------



## Suldulin

Yea, though I walk through the valley of there being no storyhour update. . .


----------



## Funeris

...I will fear no boredom.


----------



## Felix

*Sepulchrave II is my author.*
Freely adapted from Psalm 23. All in good fun, God!



Sepulchrave II is my author; I shall not rant. 

He maketh me to lurk in cobalt threads: he writeth for me inside the information superhighway. 

He refreshith my screen: he leadeth me down the pages of updates for his story's sake. 

Yea, though I browse through the pages of the shadow of unupdatedness, I will fear no second page: for thy story art with me; thy imagry and thy prose they comfort me. 

Thou preparest an update before me in the presence of other threads: thou anointest  my eyes with drama; my soda runneth onto my keyboard. 

Surely Eadric and Mostin shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the threads of Sepulchrave II for ever.


----------



## Thanatos

*alright...*

its time for someone to call in the well groomed men in the Italian suits with those tale-tale buldges under their arms to make Sep post again...


----------



## Lela

Thanatos said:
			
		

> its time for someone to call in the well groomed men in the Italian suits with those tale-tale buldges under their arms to make Sep post again...



 Ick.  That just sounds like a commercial for deodorant.


----------



## Nifft

Wow, it's been a while.
Huh, time to find a new story to hour.

 -- N


----------



## Felix

> Huh, time to find a new story to hour.



... 

Reverse psycology?


----------



## Jumbie

Nifft said:
			
		

> Wow, it's been a while.
> Huh, time to find a new story to hour.
> 
> -- N



I refuse to give up hope.

I've gone from checking daily to once every few days however.


----------



## Rackhir

Nifft said:
			
		

> Wow, it's been a while.
> Huh, time to find a new story to hour.
> 
> -- N




If you've ever played any of the Fallout games, someone has a story hour based on those. I've been reading it and they've managed to capture a fair amount of the goofy humor of those games. It's called "Sci-Fi - d20 Apocalypse: Vault 52 (Updated 10-6)"


----------



## Thanatos

Lela said:
			
		

> Ick.  That just sounds like a commercial for deodorant.




Violence, deodorant and commercials are most uncool...but sometimes you gotta break out the big guns...

The least he could do is come back and maybe summarize it all up for us and end it...I mean, I've followed this story since 2002...thats a long time to get no satisfaction


----------



## Rackhir

Thanatos said:
			
		

> Violence, deodorant and commercials are most uncool...but sometimes you gotta break out the big guns...
> 
> The least he could do is come back and maybe summarize it all up for us and end it...I mean, I've followed this story since 2002...thats a long time to get no satisfaction




Hey, he did let us know how things turned out with "Lady Despina" and much more beyond that. Much as I've enjoyed it, I'm increasingly of the opinion that it is time to stick a fork in this story hour. I think we've gotten about all we're going to get out of Sep.


----------



## Cheiromancer

I did a little googling on "Sepulchrave" and found this picture.

Kinda cool.


----------



## Joshua Randall

We know (from prior postings) that Sep is a kosher chef. Given that Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur -- two of the most important Jewish holidays -- just happened, he may have been very busy.

Although Yom Kippur is a fasting holiday. Hmm.


----------



## grodog

Joshua Randall said:
			
		

> We know (from prior postings) that Sep is a kosher chef. Given that Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur -- two of the most important Jewish holidays -- just happened, he may have been very busy.
> 
> Although Yom Kippur is a fasting holiday. Hmm.




I've thought about calling to chat and encourage since it's been awhile, but I've been pretty swamped with RL/work stuff, and just haven't gotten around to it :/


----------



## Thanatos

Rackhir said:
			
		

> Hey, he did let us know how things turned out with "Lady Despina" and much more beyond that. Much as I've enjoyed it, I'm increasingly of the opinion that it is time to stick a fork in this story hour. I think we've gotten about all we're going to get out of Sep.




Indeed he did and I am appreciative of that...and posted such.

But, it would still be nice to at least get a short summary of how it all turned out/ended, if it has ended. But the not knowing if it was all worth it...kinda sucks.

But I do find my opinion mirroring yours.

Grodog - please, give him a call  I fully endorse that idea. heh.

And, anyone have any other suggestions for story hours to follow? I'd like to read more epic level ones.


----------



## Warrior Poet

Sep had mentioned a waning enthusiasm (for lack of a better expression?) for continuing to write the story hour.  I'll miss it if it's gone for good, but I understand.

So, I propose a toast to, The Best Story Hour I've Ever Read, And Its Esteemed Author, And Its Adroit Players.  If you're gone for good, I wish you fair travels wherever you go.  If you ever come back, you'll always be welcome.

**Clinks glass, drinks Talisker**

Warrior Poet


----------



## Journeyman

*He will post again.*

Whatever is going on in this author's life that trumps this outlet of creativity, or wherever said creativity has wandered off to away from Wyre, I believe that too much of Sep's life, effort, zen, and ideas have gone into this outlet of personal creation for him to simply never post again.

That being said, it is with 100% optimism that i post knowing Sep will see this bump/comment and respond simply that indeed life is taking him in a different direction.  That, yes, there will be a post one day to sum it all up in bullet style fashion.

I, for one, am quite appriciative of the fantastic story he has written as a result of a simple question.  For this vein of ingenuity to go from simplistic to awesome grandieur to the simplistic ebbing of the flatline is fine by me.

Of course, being ever optimistic, I will take no response to be a response that his mind is eagerly formulating the summary of Wyre in this outlet.  I look forward to it!

Many thanks Sep for all the creativity and good storytelling you have given.  You are why I am hooked on EnWorld.  You are why i got hooked on so many other story hours!

Cheers/bumpity,

J-man


----------



## Justin

Journeyman said:
			
		

> Many thanks Sep for all the creativity and good storytelling you have given.  You are why I am hooked on EnWorld.  You are why i got hooked on so many other story hours!Cheers/bumpity,
> 
> J-man




I have to strongly second this.  I've read Sep's saga three times and I'm now on the fourth and it gets better every time.  To be honest, I don't read any type of fiction any more, aside from a couple of the story hours here.  I do try to occasionally find something the sci-fi/fantasy section at Borders and Amazon, but I always come up empty because Sep has completely spoiled me.  IMHO, Sep and his outstanding players redefine Epic.


----------



## Dancer

*Looking for storyhour pdf*

Okay, I'm looking for a compiled storyhour pdf for Sep's wonderful storyhour.  So far I have not been able to locate one and would appreciate some help.


----------



## Funeris

You know, I don't think there is a compiled pdf.  (Not that I know much anyway  )
I was actually thinking of doing one for Destan...so maybe if I get around to starting/finishing that...I'll go ahead and do Sep's as well.

~Fune


----------



## grodog

Funeris, if you join the Wyre Yahoo Group at http://games.groups.yahoo.com/group/Sepulchraves-Wyre/ you'll be able to use the .doc files there for building pdfs (although I think Cheiromancer's thread has all of the formatting done properly; my .pdfs in the Yahoo Group may not, although they contain the non-SH posts interleaved).

edit:  I may also have an archive of Destan's threads, too, on my PC at home.


----------



## Avarice

grodog said:
			
		

> Funeris, if you join the Wyre Yahoo Group at http://games.groups.yahoo.com/group/Sepulchraves-Wyre/ you'll be able to use the .doc files there for building pdfs (although I think Cheiromancer's thread has all of the formatting done properly; my .pdfs in the Yahoo Group may not, although they contain the non-SH posts interleaved).
> 
> edit:  I may also have an archive of Destan's threads, too, on my PC at home.




I'd be happy to offer my compilations as well.  I've included a hyperlinked index for all but the latest entries (this thread, actually), and have sprinkled the artwork throughout.  I can't vouch for the formatting, either, though.  Using Cheiromancer's thread may be the way to go.


----------



## Funeris

grodog said:
			
		

> Funeris, if you join the Wyre Yahoo Group...




Joined this morning.  Now, I warn you all...I like to keep my plate filled, as it were.  So, it might take me awhile to get around to this.  But I will get around to it.

I actually have all of Destan's compilation .docs saved.  So, no need to go searching for that Grodog 

~Fune

[EDIT]:  But I'll probably try to start around Thanksgiving...when I have a little extra time


----------



## Gez

Jumbie said:
			
		

> I refuse to give up hope.
> 
> I've gone from checking daily to once every few days however.




First time I check in since my last post. I've kept the thread in my subscription folder just in case, but I think it's time to remove it for good.


----------



## Cheiromancer

I don't understand the need for the PDF.  What's wrong with using "download thread" on my compiled thread, and delete the parts after May 15?

Not trying to be snarky- I just don't understand the problem.
__________________
[Highlight]Tales of Wyre: Compiled Sepulchrave Story Hour (updated 05-15)[/highlight]
and associated Rogue's Gallery (master list of links)


----------



## Funeris

Well, I don't think the request for a pdf is an affront to your much appreciated work at compiling the SH or Sep's own writing.  I think (and anyone that disagrees or wishes to expand--feel free to jump in) that, in general, a pdf is a more permanent copy than a downloaded thread.  It tends to--depending on who does the compiling--look nicer and you can insert the artwork (with permission from the individual artists).  You don't need to show all of the extraneous conversation going on within the threads...all the bumps, etc. when there are so many.  Plus, .pdfs have the capability of being opened on any operating system...always with the same format.  Everything looks as it was originally laid out--no weird formatting.  And they also lack the possible virus problem.

Some of us are ready to give up on the thread ever being updated again.  But we don't want to forget the thread or the happy happy joy joy it brang to us.  So, we'll take the compiled pdf along on our travels beyond the story hour and pull it out one rainy day in the future to remember the goodness or mine it for ideas to assualt our own epic PCs with.

Of course...if there ever was another update...we'd be there, eyes glued and minds focused, as always.  But not everyone holds out hope.

But, before I would even begin such a task...I'd want Sep's permission (I'd drop him an email) as well as the artists' permission to include their work.  And since it would cut down on the time of production, I'd also ask permission to use your compilation, Cheiromancer.

And if I were to receive a definitive no from any of you...well, I'd just drop it.

If you need a marvelous example of a compiled SH...check out Sagiro's.  One of his fans took the SH and crafted the perfect example.  Plus, he regularly adds new chapters based on Sagiro's most recent updates.

Again, no offense was meant.

~Fune


----------



## Cheiromancer

No offense taken.    I just didn't understand.  But now I see the intent behind the request.

Hmmm.  Downloading the thread yields a text document.  Which can be edited to remove the extraneous bumps and so forth.  But it does lose formatting.  Probably the best way to get a good text document is to cut and paste from the thread directly.  Then the italics and so forth are retained.  Then you can jazz it up with art and so forth.

BTW I commissioned much of the artwork for the story hour, but I'd be happy to see them in any PDF that might be produced.  They are in the thread somewhere, but were also uploaded to the Wyre Yahoo site.  I had told the artists what the art was for, and while I am not sure we could charge money for a compilation, there should be no problem if it is distributed for free.


----------



## Funeris

Yup, I like the highlight and paste trick...that's what I use for my story hour.

And I agree that you couldn't charge money for a compilation.  Usually, just the fact that the artist is mentioned and their work is in there and circulated is enough.  Still, I'd probably ask them again (although if you commissioned them...and paid for them...I suppose legally you might be able to do whatever you want with them as long as you mention the artist's name) even though it would be for free.

Glad you weren't offended.  

~Fune


----------



## grodog

I'm moving on Friday, so perhaps I'll be able to ping Sep over the holiday weekend, or so.  Depends on whether or not work keeps driving me insane, hours-wise.

On the permissions front, I doubt Sep would say no, since I'd asked about posting the files up on the Yahoo Group, as well as when I was sending updates out via email, and he was OK with both.  

If you're looking for new projects to take on, Funeris, I suggest combing the Rogues Gallery, and associated rules-postings by Sep to build out a file with all of his fun rules, templates, demons, NPCs, etc.   In my compilations on Yahoo, they're scattered throughout the files chronologically so that SH writing and relevant rules/RG entries/etc. are interleaved.  Having the rules stuff in an independent file might also be worthwhile as a reference


----------



## Zaruthustran

Sounds like you know Sep in the real world. Any idea why he stopped updating?

-z


----------



## grodog

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> Sounds like you know Sep in the real world. Any idea why he stopped updating?




We've spoken on the phone a handful of times, but beyond that and email, I only know Sep through his writing.  I imagine that he's not writing because writing at the caliber that he does takes a lot of effort, and time, to produce, and that he's propably very picky about when a piece is "ready" for sharing in the SH.  I'm guessing, though....


----------



## Cheiromancer

That's true, but his "last seen" has him absent from the boards since Sept 24. Unless he's using an alt.


----------



## Darth Shoju

Sorry if Sep has mentioned this somewhere along the way but I just don't have time to double-check; has he said how long it typically takes him to write his updates? I've seen mention that it takes him a while (not surprising at all considering the superlative quality of the writing). I'm just wondering because I do a kind of story hour for my group that I post on our own messageboards and it tends to take me quite some time to write them up. I've always been afraid that I was just a very slow writer, so it would be re-invigorating to find out that someone of Sep's caliber works at a similar pace (not that I consider myself worthy of the comparison     ). 

Also, to make it easier to hide the fact that I read the storyhour at work (    ), I've downloaded everything I could find across the various threads into a Word document (not including the Rogue's gallery, just the main story). After editing out the reply posts that weren't the actual updates, it comes in at over 600 pages. I'm currently reading through it and editing the format to make it more consistent (I was just copying and pasting it into word until I noticed the thread tools>download feature   ). After I'm done I'll probably be making it into a .pdf. Would anyone be interested in a copy of it (and I hope Sep and Cheiro don't mind) ?


----------



## Funeris

Hell, if you're already making a .pdf, then I suppose I don't have to.  You should probably add the images you can gather from the yahoo group as well.  I think someone (grodog maybe...or I can) was going to/is going to email Sep to make sure its kosher.

~Fune


----------



## Darth Shoju

Will do. But could someone invite me to the Yahoo group so I can access said pics? My yahoo is darkhorse7_9@yahoo.com


----------



## Cheiromancer

I don't think you need an invitation.  Just go and sign up.


----------



## Darth Shoju

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> I don't think you need an invitation.  Just go and sign up.




Lol thanks. I probably should have been able to figure that out for myself. Yet, well here we are.


----------



## Shadow at the Edge

I enjoyed reading a story with epic level characters. It makes a nice change.

I was inspired to write a new campaign which from the beginning was designed to take some well developed characters right from apprentices to epic levels. 

Of course a few character deaths along the way were likely, but that was all carefully factored in.

If you like that sort of in-depth story, with the powerful rubbing shoulders with the hoy-polloy, have a look at the link to my story below.

It will pass the time whilst Sepulchrave searches for his keyboard


----------



## Bibliophile

To the big *S* and the update that is sure to come, and may I one day be as good a GM or writer.


----------



## Joshua Randall

*burp*

er... I mean, *bump*

Sepulchrave's "last seen" date is 12/11, so he's still around. I wonder what threads he is reading? Maybe he has found some great story hour that is so compelling, he checks it every day for updates, hoping deparately for... nah. That's too far fetched.


----------



## Soul

I appologize for the lazyness but can someone e-mail the story hour(s) in .doc form? SoulBP at gmail dot com.


----------



## Avarice

Soul said:
			
		

> I appologize for the lazyness but can someone e-mail the story hour(s) in .doc form? SoulBP at gmail dot com.




Done.  You do realize though, that you could have gotten much the same thing by using the thread tools to download Cheiromancer's Tales of Wyre compilation thread, right?

Edit:  Okay, so apparently I lied.     Due to issues with my ISP, it looks like I won't be able to send those files after all (unless of course, you'd like to have them cut up into very, very small pieces).  Sorry!  If you don't want to download the text file of Cheiromancer's thread, you could always download Grodog's compilation at the Wyre Yahoo Group instead.


----------



## grodog

"All I want for Christmas is my two Sep up-date, my Sep up-date, my Sep up-date" 

I've been continuing to work insane hours, and haven't had time to try to ping Sep (or any one else for that matter), but hopefully the new year will instigate a calmer, gentler pace that will facilitate some phone time to catch up with him.


----------



## Soul

Opp.. I was aware of the yahoo group, not of the other. thanks!


----------



## Journeyman

I like BIG bumps and I cannot lie.....

Please Sep.  Post.  Breath!



J-man


----------



## Sepulchrave II

The real update is after this one.  

Note that inconsistencies referring to eyelids have been removed   


*******




_She is magnificent_, Nwm observed as the goddess rode down the babau. _Drengh_ was a bloody blur, flashing red about her head. The Druid was in a state of perfect, dynamic meditation: they had honed their rapport to the point of a wordless, instinctive knowledge of intent, where Nwm had become the agent of her thought.

Their quarry were diminishing in numbers: their leaders, and the most war-hardened among them, had been redeployed to another arena – a distant, violent conflict between two old enemies. Those that remained were diminished, and lacking the discipline enforced by the direct agents of Graz'zt's will, they had disintegrated into a violent rabble of clans, ruled by the most ruthless and cunning amongst them. They became easy prey for the bands of godlings and ancestors who rode forth to engage them.

Of the Nireem, Ninit had proven the most difficult to relate to. She seemed oblivious to the needs of Mulhuk, and countenanced no argument which conflicted with her desire. She was utterly impervious to reason. Her passion was only to ride, and to hunt.

Immediately, Nwm had adored her.

He had allowed himself to become subsumed in her, and relinquished himself utterly. An act of devotion inevitable, he wrily observed, when any aspect of _Goddess_ presented itself to him. But the communion which Ninit provided for Nwm led to a reciprocity which The Rider had not anticipated. She needed him in order to slay more effectively, and now she guarded and protected him. Ninit had grown accustomed to a lack of worship – her cult had been extinct for centuries. Nwm's adoration – when directed towards her – had stirred certain deific _needs_ which had been suppressed for too long. Ninit craved worship, once again. And the details of Nwm's broader henotheism were irrelevant to the goddess.

Nwm's mind reached out, connecting with the soil of Sisperi, and energy coursed through him. A profound agony – familiar and reassuring – fired every nerve in his body. His skin cracked like the bark of an ancient tree and began to bleed, green fire coursed over him, and a necromantic impulse of terrible potency exploded outwards from him in all directions. Demons dropped like flies.

In his thoughts, Ninit smiled savagely.

As the few remaining monsters winked out, Nwm _healed_ himself of his self-inflicted trauma and mustered his strength again.

_You are weary,_ Ninit's voice echoed in his mind. _Return to Mulhuk._

Nwm bowed. He might have continued, but one did not gainsay The Rider. He would return to Mulhuk, and then make his way to Wyre and his appointed meeting with Ortwine.

*

When not hunting, Nwm would spend long hours instructing Lai and her handmaidens in the arts he had mastered. His favoured location was a courtyard graced with crystal trees, where a warm sun always shone in the afternoon; demonstration was his preferred method. And the knowledge with which Nehael had imbued him, he eagely disseminated. His role was paradoxical: both mentor and worshipper; teacher and priest.

At other times, he and Lai would leave Mulhuk, and walk beneath the trees in the region of Sisperi which had been called Soan, where the Werud – a confederation of tribes who had venerated the Nireem – had once dwelt. The desolation was absolute, as all sapience had been extinguished by the tide of demons which had ravaged the world.

One cold morning, not far from where Eadric had slain the babau Uort,*  Druid and Goddess had come across the remains of a settlement, its inhabitants driven off or butchered a century before. The stench of death and decay still clung to the place; a pall of Abyssal misery, which might take millennia to clear. Nwm sat upon a moss-covered outcrop – all that remained of an ancient granary.

"What of Saes?" He had sighed. "Little can proceed without her."

"I have tried. She will not respond. The gate to Ruk is closed. She is mad. Bloated on Death.**"

"You must persist. She may, in time, be persuaded,"

Lai laughed drily. "You do not know her as I do. Another way must be found. But somrthing else has occurred to you."

"There may be alternatives," Nwm said carefully. "There are tribes in the North of my world. Some may be willing to undertake the journey here. To begin afresh. But I will not decieve them: demons lurk around every corner, and I suspect Sisperi will never be rid of _them_ entirely. How would they even understand an entreaty made by you or Rhul? And they would bring their own gods with them, Lai. It might serve only to speed your demise."

"A chance I am willing to take."

Nwm shrugged. "Others can come, and when they die, Saes will claim them. Trees can be _awakened_, and when they die, Saes will claim them too. Saes is the key – all other solutions are merely temporary."

"If another could be persuaded to go and speak with her. Eadric perhaps?"

Nwm shook his head. "It is unlikely. He has discharged his vow, and other matters concern him. And Saes might entrap him: Graz'zt would trade a whole world for the _Ahma_. I lack the necessary tact – or guile. No, I think Ortwine might be the answer."

Lai's lip curled, and the sky darkened momentarily. "I will return to Afqithan, if I must. But I mistrust her."

"And she, you. But her mendacity may be your ally." He smiled grimly, and became serious. "She is no pawn, Lai. If she condescends to aid you, it will be on her terms."

"I will send her a _dream_. It will be neutral territory."

"It might be preferable if I speak to her," Nwm suggested. "We have a bond that endures across four lifetimes, and she knows I will not decieve her."

"If you deem it best," the Goddess reluctantly agreed.


**


"I would like to extend my gratitude to the Assembly for allowing me to speak," the Alienist began. "My particular thanks to Daunton, for acting as my sponsor in this matter."

They had convened at Mostin's – formerly Shomei's – estate outside of Morne: thirty-one mages gathered in an audience hall around a great, oval table, carved from ebony and inlayed with scenes from Irrenite myth. Some sat. Some stood, or leaned on staves. Most were human. Rimilin of the Skin was there: he sat alone, shunned by all others.

Even Waide remained silent, aware that an untimely display of sarcasm might earn the ire of many of those present. Mostin – it was rumoured – was about to make some grand philanthropic gesture, and most were concerned that the Alienist was sufficiently eccentric to change his mind for no other reason than mild annoyance. Nothing should jeopardize this improbable event. 

Mostin's lidless eyes scanned those present as he fondled Mogus, the obscene, fist-sized pseudonatural which lived in a nondimensional space within his tunic. In sympathy, the orbs on his _robe of eyes_ rotated in a disturbing fashion, fixing first one, and then another of those present.

"Mulissu and Shomei are gone," Mostin continued. "Two great lights have left us – to whichever fates they have chosen for themselves. We are diminished. I am left with the burden of being the greatest living Wizard in Wyre, although perhaps not on this plane - something I will come to in due course. Many of you consider me both aloof and deranged, and I will deny neither. I am, however, indisputably, a genius."

Waide sighed.

Mostin ignored him. "Jovol's legacy remains with us, and if we dwell within the borders of Wyre, we must abide by it. For those of us with the resources – and I count myself fortunate in this regard – the option of continuing our conjurations is open, if we have another base from which to operate. I have erected my _portable manse_ outside of Wyre's borders in order to facilitate this. This has proven controversial amongst some of you gathered here, as it might be claimed that it circumvents the spirit – if not the letter – of the Second Injunction. I am not alone in this regard, however."

Mostin stared pointedly at the Hag Jalael, Rimilin, and Wigdryt – a smoke mephit.

"This is a testing time for us," Mostin continued, "but we must not waver in our faith in Jovol's wisdom. His vision was more complete than we can appreciate, and he had access to methods which are now lost to us."

A murmur rippled through the gathered mages. Rumour of the _web of motes_ had been heard by all, although only a few knew of its true significance.

"I am about to make several assertions which may, on the surface, appear contradictory or paradoxical. Let me posit a scenario," Mostin sighed. "As one who has experienced the power of the _web of motes_ first-hand, this is not as improbable as it might sound. Jovol _knew_ of the explosion of religious power which Tramst – the so-called _Sela_ – exemplifies. He _knew_ of an impending conflict with the Cult of Cheshne. Furthermore, he chose death – _in violation of his own Injunction_ – as a course preferable to allowing a second conjuration of Graz'zt. He knew that a renaissance in Uediian power would act as the best balance on all other concerns. The entity who was Fillein, then Jovol, has self-incarnated again, in the guise of a fey named Teppu."

The revelation left all of those present – except for Rimilin – dumbstruck. The brief silence was quickly replaced by thirty chattering voices.

Mostin held up his hand, and a gong sounded.

"Please allow me to continue," he smirked despite himself. An uneasy silence returned to the room. "There will be time for questions after I have spoken, but there are a number of other issues I would like to address first.

"Most importantly, _Teppu is not Jovol_, at least in any meaningful sense, any more than Jovol was Fillein. I am unsure of the extent to which even his memories are retained. Teppu's agenda is not Jovol's agenda. He is driven by a different set of desires and philosophies, although there is, somehow – perhaps hyperconsciously – a commonality of purpose. This higher purpose is related somehow to Dream, and was partially illuminated by the oblique references that Jovol made to his understanding of the dialectical process.

"If we deal with Teppu – and I suspect we must – we should not expect to enjoy any kind of special rapport. Teppu is _Green_. His concern is a complex of energies involving feys, nature spirits, the goddess Uedii, and the natural world – something which he refers to as the _Viridity_: a burgeoning node of elemental power centered around these principles. The Viridity may be arising as some kind of mediating effect to resolve the polarization of Oronthonian belief and the Cult of Nihilism from Shûth.

"Its effect in Afqithan _superseded the designs of Oronthon's Adversary_. Accordingly, I have designated it a Greater Infinity. Its relationship with Oronthon himself is unclear, as is the relationship between the two foci – the _Sela_ on one hand, and Nehael on the other. When I inspected the _web of motes_ the sympathetic energy between the two was astounding, which leads me to suspect that a higher order of Intelligence is at work – perhaps the same order which drives Teppu, perhaps not. In any event, the final turn of the wheel in Afqithan revealed the Adversary as nothing more than a cog in some transcendental purpose. He had no inkling of the Viridity, and knowledge of it was – or is still – shrouded from him."

Waide could no longer contain himself. "Nehael is the succubus who started all this mess in the first place, am I correct?"

"Not exactly," Mostin said smugly. "Nehael is no longer what she was. In fact, she may have never been what she formerly was – the Viridity is concerned primarily with the Now, the Moment. As such, what is past, and what is yet to come are in large measure irrelevant. According to that paradigm, all history is vacuous – and mutable."

"This is mystical babble," Jalael interjected. "I had expected more from you, Mostin."

"Indulge me!" Mostin snapped. "And Waide, kindly allow me to speak without further interruption. I am trying to contextualize my actions, not justify current trends in religious thought."

Daunton coughed. "Perhaps you might be a little more succinct, Mostin."

"Oh very well," the Alienist grumbled. He inhaled deeply, and thought for a moment.

"Let me speak of _artifacts_," Mostin clearly enunciated the last word, and was not disappointed by the effect that it had on all of those present. "You have, doubtless, heard rumours regarding the _web of motes_. Its whereabouts is currently undetermined: its last known guardian was the demon Surab, who possessed Mulissu's daughter, Iua, and was responsible for the death of the Savant. The _web of motes_ itself is unlocatable by any means available to me. Surab is _mind blanked_ by some device. It is of paramount importance that we retrieve this object. There is hope: I have made a _metagnostic inquiry_ of a Pseudonatural entity named _Ghom_ which dwells beyond the middle region. I believe that Surab is unaware of the true nature of the _web of motes_. I also believe that Iua is still alive – her form, which is young and nubile, may be pleasing to the demon. Surab may be unwilling – or unable – to reenter Azzagrat, and has retreated to the unnamed regions between Hell and the Abyss.

"Also, the chthonic demoness Soneillon spoke of something named _Pharamne's Urn_ – an object of which she claimed ownership, but which had been appropriated by Prince Graz'zt at some point in the past. This item is of Aeonic potency: one in full possession of its powers – something which the Prince of Azzagrat _is not_ – can _create universes_. Naturally, Graz'zt guards it jealously. Queen Soneillon could unlock it to a greater degree although, I suspect, she could not manifest its ultimate power: she was unusual for a demon in her command of ritual magic, something which is antithetical to the Abyssal mindset. She was also unique in many other ways." An ironic smile crossed the Alienist's face.

Mostin paused to take a sip of tea, and was mildly surprised – and gratified – to find his audience utterly enrapt.

"We are delicately poised," Mostin continued. "Currently, as I am sure even the most politically ignorant of you are aware, the _Sela_, Oronthon's proxy, is on the field of battle, south of Wyre's borders. Whilst Prince Tagur attempts to rally support for the campaign in secular circles, the Temple – _and I trust we all recall that particular monolith_ – has effectively reformed, albeit with a more thoughtful perspective and without the stigma attached to the name _Temple_. I'll say the name again, for those of you who didn't hear me: _Temple_. It is the same band of lance-waving zealots as it was three years ago, and we must trust that Tramst has inculcated some measure of insight and tolerance in those involved.

"_This war is magical_. The initial skirmishes – which have proven inconclusive – have demonstrated that the _Sela_ is fallible in this arena. His purview is enlightenment – whatever that means to an Oronthonian – and not conflict. We must decide – collectively – a policy in this matter. We are, of course, bound by the Injunction, _although we can act beyond Wyre's borders._ But of the three main sects within the Cult of Cheshne, only one is technically subject to the law of the Claviger, and this has yet to be tested in practice.

"A friend once described such a conflict as _arcanoreligious_ and I scoffed at the term. I am, however, beginning to think he – now she – was correct. It is fraught with legalistic complexity, which the Injunction must adapt to – although I have no doubt that the Claviger itself can anticipate many of the vagaries. If I am a theurge, and I conjure a demon within Wyre's borders using arcane power, am I subject to the same set of laws as I would be if I used a divinely granted boon to do the same? And we should not doubt that the devotees of Cheshne are both willing and able to do these things. Their vision is apocalyptic, in the extreme.

"This rather circuitous speech – and I apologize, Daunton, if I was less _succinct_ than you had hoped, brings me to the main thrust of my argument today: there are mages and hierophants within the Order of Cheshne who wield considerable power. Possibly more than me, even. Their exact names, numbers and dispositions are hidden from us, but there are undoubtedly transvalent casters amongst them. We know only _Anumid_, who is their mouthpiece, and with whom Daunton was granted a brief audience.

"Their veneration of Cheshne is absolute. They regard demons – even demonic nobility – in an entirely different light to those of us exposed to Oronthonian dogma. _Ugras_ – fierce protectors – of ancient methods and teachings. This is their Truth, and who are we to gainsay it?

"We cannot hide from this. We must adopt a position – even if it is one of noninvolvement: something, incidentally, which I most emphatically discourage. I am not asking you to submit to my whim in this matter, but I do request that my counsel is acknowledged, if nothing else. Waide distrusts and despises me – and the feeling is entirely mutual. But we have agreed to go to the Claviger for direction in our antipathy for one another, because both of us realize that our personal feelings for one another cannot be allowed to interfere with the larger picture.

"My appeal today is complex. First, I ask for help in recovering the _web of motes_. It is a tool which we can use to great effect – _let me finish, Waide_. Furthermore – as unlikely as this might seem – I owe it to Mulissu to see her daughter returned safely: I am rather fond of Iua.

"Second – and I will preempt cries of 'foul' before they are issued – I believe, for a variety of reasons, that it is within our mutual interest to confine the Demon Prince Graz'zt. He is one of the chief _Ugras_ and we run the risk of him being conjured by our enemies and sent against us. The prize, if we can accomplish this, is _Pharamne's Urn_ – if we can get to it before anyone else. I am in the possession of a transvalent spell bequeathed to me by Jovol which I believe can accomplish this infallibly _if I have the unqualified support of the Assembly in this matter._ The spell – which is outmoded, and I suspect against which Graz'zt has developed defenses – can be modified. Even a demon of Graz'zt's stature cannot withstand our combined power.

"Third, we must develop a coherent strategy to counter the threat from the Cult of Cheshne. We cannot be sidelined in this matter; neither can we allow ourselves to be overcome piecemeal, one-by-one. We must unite to address this danger. This runs counter to a thousand years of tradition, I know, but change is upon us. We live in a new world. We must adapt, or we _will_ be broken. I have considered various possibilities as to how this can be accomplished, and I am willing to discuss them at length when the debate begins."

Mostin took another sip of tea – which had gone cold – before continuing, He swallowed reflexively, as if in great doubt.

"Word has probably already spread that I am willing to make Shomei's library available to the arcane community. This is so. But, in case any of you have doubts as to my earnestness in regard to the matters of which I have spoken – and my sense of urgency – I would like to go further. I have a well-deserved reputation for miserliness, I know, and this may come as something of a shock. So consider this as a display of enlightened self-interest.

"I would like to turn over Shomei's entire estate _in perpetuity_ to the Wizards of Wyre, as the starting point of a collective endeavour. I will donate my own library to the enterprise, and urge you all to do the same. I propose a repository of learning, and a testing ground for intellects as yet undiscovered. An _Academy_, if you will. We should embrace the Injunction, and display it above our gates as our Law, but also recognize it as our guiding principle. And I should like to nominate Daunton to be elected as our first President."

Thirty-one jaws, including that of Rimilin of the Skin, dropped.

When Waide had recovered his composure, he smiled bitterly. He knew that Mostin had finally won, and left his indelible mark on history.








* This story may have to wait for some time.

** Saes, the Nireem goddess concerned with death, had allied herself with Graz'zt when the demon invested the plane, seeing an opportunity to augment her own power when the inevitable tide of slaughter followed. She gathered the spirits of all dead things to herself, swelling her strength, and guarded her prizes jealously. When Graz'zt withdrew his main force to defend Azzagrat, Saes sealed the entrance to Ruk, the underworld. Nwm's efforts to use remains he had discovered to _reincarnate_ some of those who had died in the conflict, in order to repopulate Sisperi, were foiled: Saes refused to relinquish their souls.


**


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## genshou

Then... that means a real update is coming!  Woohoo!


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## Sepulchrave II

*THE PROSPECT OF EMBASSIES*


_In the aftermath of the Confrontation in Afqithan, Nwm the Preceptor assumed the form of a great raven and took to the skies. He surveyed the scene below: had it been any ordinary battle, a glut of flesh would have been his for the taking. But amongst the heaped corpses of demons and monsters, all carrion was foul. Ichor, not blood, stained the glades beneath the towering trees.

Purposefully, he winged his way to where I lay dead upon the field: foes whom I had felled were scattered around. His pinions cracked once, and his talons came to rest upon a heap of varrangoin. I beheld him through lifeless eyes as he approached: my spirit lingered, unwilling to abandon my body.

"A third time will I restore you," he cawed. "And a fourth and a fifth, if need be. We are in need of every ally which we can find. The seed must sprout. The shoot must be tended."

Gently, he lifted me upwards, and screeched, invoking ancient goddesses who had slumbered for millennia, and whose names he alone knew. With a violent passion, life returned to me again.

"How was death?" He asked.

"Cold," I replied. I smiled, and exulted in my new form, relishing its power and subtlety. I cast my sight about, perceiving the interwoven lattice of life and magic which suffused the place. "This is your doing?" I asked.

"In part," he answered, winging his way toward Irknaan's Fortress. "What now?" 

"I will remain here," I answered. "Afqithan is mine, now."

 He cocked his head. "That is a bold claim. How will you enforce it?"

"With ruthless charm," I replied._


*


Nwm stood beneath the sagging boughs of a great deodar, a tree not native to Trempa, but rather one of a dozen imported generations earlier, by an aristocrat with a taste for the exotic; some forebear of Eadric of Deorham, whose name the Druid could not recollect. The late afternoon sun shone warm through the deep green of its canopy. He watched her approach, studying her carefully.

Her poise and grace were effortless, and her natural footfall, silent. She wore the same, tattered cloak and stained jerkin that she always had, but bore a buckler of sidhe metal strapped to her arm, won in Afqithan from one of the thousands who had perished there. Her face – breathtaking in its beauty – displayed only the slightest hint of contempt.

"Will this take long?" She asked as she drew near.

"It may," Nwm replied. "Lai has a favour to ask you."

Ortwine's eyes narrowed. "And what does your deific protégé require of me?" 

"To embark upon a series of negotiations, with a goddess named Saes." Nwm replied. He attempted to sound casual. "It is better if I say nothing else. I am merely the courier."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Ortwine replied. "Perhaps you think I might be less apt to view an old friend with suspicion?"

"There is no joy left in you, Ortwine." 

"Let's just get this over with," Ortwine sighed.



**


As Nwm and Ortwine travelled to Sisperi, and Mostin addressed the largest gathering of mages for a century, Eadric sat confined with the devils Titivilus and Murmuur in the summoning room. It was the third day of the interrogation.

Mostin had been irked by the fact that Ortwine and the _Ahma_ had caused Titivilus to crumple so quickly: the Alienist had expected a more protracted negotiation. He had attempted for months to wheedle information from the confined Dukes, but had had neither the time nor the resources to develop a spell which would reliably subdue them: if an unprepared magick were to have failed, and a Duke were to break free, things would have become very messy, very quickly. One free would have become three free, and three of them together would have overwhelmed him. But the Wizard was relieved that he could – for a while, at least – avoid the two remaining Devils. He was implicated in the assassination of an Infernal magnate, and would enjoy the enmity of Dis until the end of his days. 

The _Ahma_ and Titivilus had spoken of the Adversary's role in Afqithan, of the deployment of Devils under Azazel, of Murmuur's Tower – now abandoned on the demiplane and, apparently, inert. Titivilus had speculated at length regarding the Infernal decision made to support Azzagrat – a subtle balancing act, to prevent Orcus gaining supremacy in his war with Graz'zt in the Abyss itself. 

Many of Graz'zt's champions had perished, nonetheless, either in the Confrontation or shortly thereafter. Ainhorr, Cemdrei, Uort and a slew of others were no more. Melihaen had abandoned her master and fled to Throile, throwing in her lot with Adyell and the battered remnants of Soneillon's horde. Others had joined with Rhyxali, or Kostchtchie, or slunk away to Yutuf or Terkunuteng to lick their wounds, as their individual whim or interest dictated. 

In Zelatar itself, Ilistet had rallied Graz'zt's army and led a savage counterattack against the undead host of Orcus. The war ebbed and flowed, but a stagnant impasse – which suited Hell's designs – seemed inevitable. The Prince of Azzagrat was fighting a defensive war which might last for millennia. His power had been curbed, and his ambition thwarted. Nehael was no longer captive. The _Ahma_ had won, though the victory was bitter and empty.

Throughout the exchange with Titivilus, Murmuur had remained silent. Eadric regarded him with a mixed feeling, which included a grudging admiration. Here was a soldier, pure and simple. Loyal, steadfast, unwavering in his devotion to his beliefs, and utterly, irredeemably _evil_.

The _Ahma_ sat, and laid _Lukarn_ unsheathed across his knees.

"We have a few loose ends to tie up," Eadric sighed. "You may use surmise, but I will be alert to any attempted falsehood. If you try to mislead or prevaricate, I will annihilate you. Am I clear?"

"Yes," Titivilus grinned. 

Eadric raised an eyebrow. The Devil already seemed cooperative. Did he think that Mostin's absence would make the _Ahma_ more pliable, or was the prospect of his freedom causing him to be less opaque than normal? He grunted, and shifted his position.

"Tell me of Shomei. From your skewed perspective."

"Her soul is in a self-induced state of perdition. By rejecting _Saizhan_ she made a conscious decision to consign herself to Hell. You have no authority in acts of individual volition."

"I have as much authority as I choose to assume," Eadric grimaced, "but I agree that it would be pointless to try to rectify the situation." He remembered his own conversation with Shomei too well, as well as the words and actions of the _Akesoli_.

"If you say so, _Ahma_."

"Is she in Dis?" Eadric asked, irritated.

"In Cania. Astaroth purchased her from the _Akesoli_. Perhaps neither Dispater nor Belial could meet their price: that is surmise, for the record."

"For what purpose?"

"She is a valuable prize," Titivilus smirked. "And the Grand Duke has an eye for the spirits of powerful mages."

"As currency?"

"To gloat over. Perhaps he will offer her unlife, for her immortal service. Pacts can extend beyond death, _Ahma_. Before you _smite_ me, I should tell you that that  is also surmise."

Eadric suppressed a shiver.

The Infernal Duke smiled. "The inducements offered by a Devil such as Astaroth are hard to resist," he persisted.

"And the _web of motes_, Titivilus?" Eadric asked, ignoring the goad. "Where might that be?"

"Frankly, I'm disappointed that Mostin has not contrived a spell to locate it. Find Surab, and you'll find the _web_. I do not know its location."

Eadric thought for a moment.

Titivilus spoke. "There is other information that I would like to impart to you. It is freely given."

"Or rather, the price is invisible," Eadric said stonily.

"Quite. Do you wish to hear it or no?" Titivilus gloated.

"I suppose I must."

"My mandate as your tempter was revoked some time ago. Before my embassy to Azzagrat, in fact."

"Why?" Eadric was suspicious.

"I do not know."

"_Surmise!_" Eadric snapped.
	.
"To make way for one whom my superiors felt more suited, I assume. Or perhaps it was an abandonment of the task altogether."

"You failed, then?"

"I thought I was doing rather well. No matter. Are we finished, now? Will you kindly release me?"

"I regret not. I fear that I have mislead you."

The _Ahma_ prayed briefly, buoying himself with Oronthon's power. _Unholy auras_ flickered in response within the thaumaturgic diagrams as the devils anticipated Eadric's intention. _Lukarn_ gained a silver sheen, and then the _Ahma_ spoke a _holy word_. The devils' confining circles were shattered under the assault. Titivilus screamed silently, transfixed, as light overwhelmed him, but Murmuur withstood the barrage.

Incoherently, Titivilus struck Eadric with a quickened _feeblemind_ and attempted to dispel the _dimensional lock_ placed by Mostin on the chamber, but failed. Murmuur lashed out with a rapid _meteor swarm_ and leapt at Eadric, smiting him with as much vile power as he could muster.

Titivilus, paralyzed, fell quickly to a series of brutal strokes from _Lukarn_.

Eadric stared at Murmuur, who remained defiant. Unexpectedly, compassion welled up within the _Ahma_. He had no choice but to act upon it.

"Yield!" Eadric's voice thundered in the confines of the summoning room. "Submit to my mercy. You are no match for me."

More blows were exchanged, and each hewed through the armour of the other. Murmuur staggered uncertainly.

"Yield!" Eadric demanded. 

"I cannot," Murmuur smiled sadly. "We are forever lost, _Ahma_. Do you not yet understand?"

_Lukarn_ fell three times, and the duke dropped to the floor. 

Eadric closed his eyes as his mind contained the magnitude of his deed. The line had finally been drawn. There would be no more negotiation.


** 


Lai sat cross-legged before a fire pit, in which a ruddy flame flickered. Runes lay cast about her, and her handmaidens fussed nearby, pouring nectar into bowls of exquisitely carved wood. She regarded Ortwine carefully, anxious to avoid a conflict.

Nwm, who stood nearby, was clad only in a simple green robe tied about his waist with a length of rough hemp. He scratched the dirt at his feet with slender staff cut from a young hornbeam, and avoided Ortwine's glare. His beard and hair seemed inordinately long to the sidhe, as though their cultivation might somehow hold the key to the mysteries into which the Druid had been initiated. A faint aura of Green surrounded Nwm – the _dwimmerhame_ which protected him from hostile magicks. His hands and forearms were scarred from the massive backlash energies he routinely employed.

"You are welcome here as an honoured guest," Lai said smoothly, "and what is ours, is yours. Please sit."

Ortwine scowled, and lounged casually, resting on her left arm. Nwm coughed, and kneeled next to the goddess.

"Let's get straight to the point," Ortwine smiled coldly. "Nwm tells me that you wish me to act as your messenger. You wish me to enter the abode of the Goddess of Death – I have not forgotten who Saes _is_, Nwm – in order to strike some kind of bargain."

"Yes," Lai nodded. "To secure the release of the spirits which she has hoarded."

"This is no small task."

"Indeed," Lai admitted. 

"If I were to agree, it would require sizeable recompense. What do you think that such an endeavour – if successful – is worth, Nwm?"

"I am gratified that you retain your mercenary tendencies," Nwm said drily.

"Do you have a price in mind?" Lai inquired.

"Divinity is acceptable to me."

Nwm guffawed. His expression changed to one of incredulity, when he saw that Ortwine was serious.

"You are a _sidhe_-queen, Ortwine! What more can you require?"

"Homage is pleasant, Nwm, but I think you'd agree that worship would be preferable."

"It is not within the power of the Nireem to grant you what you seek…" Lai began.

"Then you'd better find a way, goddess, because until you do, there will be no deal."



**


Eadric felt edgy. He looked from the highest window of the Steeple, casting his gaze south and east in the direction of the _Sela_'s forces – although they were two hundred leagues beyond the limit of his vision. Below, lights and campfires were kindling amid a sea of tents – not warriors and soldiers, but pilgrims who had made their way to Deorham in the hope of catching a glimpse of the _Ahma_, and to walk in holy places. He turned to Mostin, who sat preoccupied in thought. They had touched briefly upon the topic of the Cult of Cheshne, towards whom both now earnestly bent their will.

"What are they _doing_? Why do they not act?"

"The Hierophants are devising and casting spells," Mostin grimaced. "Very potent spells. This takes time."

"And then?"

"They unleash the storm."

"Could you perhaps be a little more specific?" Eadric inquired.

"Opening a _gate_ is child's play to these mages, Eadric. They compact demonic nobility. _Bhítis_ and _Ugras_."

"How long do we have? Who will they send?"

"I don't know. If it were me, I'd start with a few balors. Just to get things warmed up – pardon the pun. When that happens, you'll know that the big spells are ready – they won't begin before they're prepared. I think we have a month or two, at least."

"Can we counter it?"

"If we pool our resources. A grand alliance, so to speak."

"And the Injunction?" Eadric looked sceptical.

"Only applies within Wyre's borders." Mostin's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Which is why the Assembly – which is demonstrating as much inertia as I expected – needs to come up with some solid offensive strategies. Fast. I would like to speak with your _Sela_. Can you arrange it?

"Er…yes," the _Ahma_ looked surprised. "I had intended to leave for the South in two days. Can you wait?

"No," Mostin shook his head vigorously. "How about now?"

"There is _áuda_ tonight and tomorrow – blessings which I am duty-bound to bestow, when I can. And I'd like to speak to the thaumaturge, Sineig – Canec informed me earlier that he has made the journey here from Gibilrazen on foot."

"The Irrenite? He is rather controversial, I hear." Mostin seemed amused.

"And becoming increasingly popular. He has quite the following."

"People like sex," Mostin shrugged. "If you include it in your praxis, it's bound to generate a lot of interest. And if you make intercourse with demons a central tenet, you will attract a certain kind of devotee."

"He is treading a dangerous path," Eadric sighed.

"But one not without precedent," Mostin replied drily.

"My religion has been transformed beyond all recognition," Eadric groaned. "And I am responsible for much of it. Most cannot grasp the teachings which Sineig presents. Many of those who follow his example will be broken."

"But a few will shine," Mostin insisted. "They _choose_, Eadric."

"Choice is overrated,"  Eadric sighed.

"It is preferable to spiritual despotism."

"Is that an ethical stance I detect, Mostin?"

"Only insofar as it applies to me. Now, can we leave?" Mostin nagged. "I'll have you back within an hour."

Eadric nodded.


**


"I require celestial sponsorship," Mostin sniffed, looking at Tramst. "My pseudonatural servitors are not suited for routine defense, and require a great deal of effort to summon and control. I have alienated many fiendish allies, and lack a versatile pool of potential compactees. I also suspect that Dispater may have placed a sizeable contract on my head, or will shortly. Can you help?

Eadric gaped. The _Sela_ seemed amused.

"How do you propose that I might do that?"

Mostin sighed. "Obviously, to sanction my _gating_ of celestials and to waive any normal fees that I would otherwise incur for _planar bindings_. I don't see what the problem is. We're on the same side, here. I would stipulate only that celestials who serve me refrain from displaying their wings, or change them to something less offensive – those of bats or insects are acceptable."

"It is not within my remit to make compacts."

"That's absurd," Mostin waved a hand. "You're Oronthon as well as Tramst, aren't you? Just expand your remit."

Eadric groaned. "_Sela_…"

Tramst held up a hand. "I know." He turned to Mostin. "I appreciate any agency that you might provide, Mostin, despite your motivation. But you need to adopt a more conventional approach in this. I cannot _ease_ your path to power, can I? How would that be of benefit to you? Perhaps you should speak to a celestial?"

"It is precisely in order to avoid their blinkered perspective that I am talking to you," Mostin groaned. "I do not require _moral instruction_."

The _Ahma_ coughed politely.

"Oh shut up, Eadric. So the answer is 'no,' then? Must I look to another source because the _Sela_ is unwilling to help me help him?"

Eadric turned beet red, and opened his mouth to deliver an angry admonishment. Once again, the _Sela_ raised his hand, staying his words.

_We teach according to the wisdom of those who hear._

"I do not deal with the conventional, Mostin," the _Sela_ was imperturbable. "But allow me to speak for Enitharmon: if you demonstrate your commitment, I have no doubt that it will be regarded favourably by those high in the celestial host. I believe that Jovol and Rintrah enjoyed good relations."

"Commitment?" Mostin asked suspiciously. 

"You would need to refrain from routinely invoking fiends."

"And their pseudonatural analogues?"

"The host would not recognize such a distinction," Tramst smiled.

"And other pseudonaturals?"

"They would make no distinction there, either. As such, these entities would be acceptable."

"I will abide by these terms for the nonce," Mostin said grudgingly, "although giving up the daemons will be a wrench."

"They are not _terms_, Mostin, and I am in no means acting as guarantor. But if you are seeking to curry celestial support, it is traditional that one show willing in certain areas. You might also aid the _Ahma_ in his coming task."

Eadric cocked his head. "I have a task? That will be a refreshing change to determining my own fate. What is it?"

"On Nehael's initiative there will be a nonpartisan embassy which represents all Wyrish interests, spiritual and secular. You must parley with Anumid: we must attempt to resolve this peaceably, even if is doomed to fail. Both Prince Tagur and Daunton have agreed to the effort." 

The _Ahma_ swallowed reflexively. "And is my role to be religious or mundane?"

"Both. You are the _Ahma_ and the Earl of Deorham."

"One high in the Order – a former Templar – would be of aid to me. Sercion or Brey."

"I can spare neither," the _Sela_ said simply. "Nor would I, if I could. They are too unformed for such a task."

"There are no others," Eadric grimaced.

"Amongst the living." 

Eadric was dumbstruck. _Must I break every rule?_

_You are the _Ahma. _You do what needs to be done. If you cling to outdated dogma, then what hope do we have?_

_Must I slay you, as well?_

_Time will tell._ The _Sela_ smiled.

"And you also expect me to embark on this futile mission?" Mostin asked.

"Your presence would demonstrate a degree of cohesion; a unity of purpose."

"Which we do not possess," Mostin snapped.

"Yet," Tramst replied. "I remain optimistic, however. I think it is fair to suggest that all desire it, but none are quite sure about how to realize it." 


**


The tomb and reliquary of Saint Tahl the Incorruptible were situated in a small chapel adjoining the Great Temple of Morne, and were reached from the main transept through a wrought iron gate which always remained open: the faithful, who sought Tahl's intercession, could at any time offer prayer to him. 

When Eadric arrived, only a single petitioner kneeled in quiet contemplation. By her ascetic appearance – she wore little more than rags, and her hair and nails were long and filthy – the _Ahma_ judged her to be an Urgic pilgrim from eastern Trempa or Ardan. Or rather, she would have been one, before such distinctions had become irrelevant. The air of the chapel was thick with incense, and slender candles burned steadily upon a small altar.

She gaped as Eadric lit a taper and kneeled next to her. "_Ahma_, I…" she began to whisper.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," Eadric bowed. "What is your name?"

"Beka, _Ahma_."

"I would have you be a witness, Beka. If the later interpretation of events becomes fraught with untruths and idle speculation, you will remember what happened here. You are charged with preserving an accurate account. Will you accept this responsibility?"

"_Ahma_, I…"

"If you wish to leave, you may. I would prefer that you stayed, however. Will you indulge me?"

The pilgrim nodded dumbly.

Eadric stood, and removed his gauntlets. Reaching out, he ran his hand over the face of the marble effigy of Tahl: a figure lying in quiet repose, hands clasped upon the quillons of a greatsword, upon the lid of a sarcophagus. He mustered as much strength as he could.

Eadric hefted the lid, pushed it sideways, and lowered it carefully, so that it rested against the side of the tomb. Inside were a scourge, a sword, and a wooden casket, almost pristine. Eadric prised it open, gagging at the stench which rose up to greet him. 

Beka turned her head away, aghast, and held her breath.

"In these days, even the dead will have no rest," he intoned. 

There was a momentary flash, and Tahl's decayed form changed abruptly. His eyes opened.

"_Ahma_?"

"My apologies for interrupting your bliss, Tahl. There is much to be done, and I need your help."

"Of course," Tahl smiled. "Where is my armour?"

"Sercion wears it," Eadric laughed. Tears streamed down his face. 

"Is the _Sela_ here?"

"No. That meeting will have to wait."

"I am the first?"

"You will not be the last." Eadric nodded.

"Who is next?"

"Rede," the _Ahma_ looked pained.

"He has become wrathful. A spirit of vengeance."

"So much the better," Eadric smiled grimly.


**


She was waiting quietly for the Alienist when he returned to his manse. When he saw her, blood hammered in his temples, and he briefly contemplated whether or not to flee. His _arcane sight_ revealed no detail about her, impenetrable as she was to divination. Nonetheless, he knew her. Power radiated from her. The Claviger had magnified her.

"Am I to be arraigned?" He asked. "Eliminated?"

"You will make some tea," Gihaahia said with a wicked smile. "And then we will discuss the finer points of the Injunction."

"Do you take milk?" Mostin breathed a sigh of relief.


**


----------



## the Jester

Ohhh yeah!!!!

Wow- thank you, Sep!


----------



## Shieldhaven

You know, a new entry in the Tales of Wyre is enough of a warm fuzzy that I've completely forgotten the agony of several days without any ENWorld at all.  Bravo!  Amazing stuff as always.

Haven


----------



## Fimmtiu

Holy crap! Worth waiting for, as always!


----------



## Felix

Brilliant.


----------



## Starman

It must be Christmas! 

That's what it feels like when Sep updates, anyway.


----------



## Nifft

I'm happy to be late for work. 

Thanks! -- N


----------



## Cheiromancer

I was very surprised (and pleased) to see an update!  

Thanks, Sep.

I have to say, though, that I don't understand Saes's reasons for sealing the underworld.  Suppose there are 100 million people in the world, and they all live for an average of 100 years.

Then, on average, 1 million souls pass her gates every year. Now suppose Graz'zt invades, and all 100 million are killed in a year.  Saes gorges on death.  But next year- no souls come.  None are left alive, and so none can die.  No matter- she's still up by a net 99 million souls. The year after- still no souls.  The year after that- nope.  After 100 years she's where she would have been had there been no invasion.  From that point on she is in a net famine of souls.

It is really in her interest to let some out to live again- for unless there are living people, no one can die.


----------



## tleilaxu

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> I was very surprised (and pleased) to see an update!
> 
> Thanks, Sep.
> 
> I have to say, though, that I don't understand Saes's reasons for sealing the underworld.  Suppose there are 100 million people in the world, and they all live for an average of 100 years.
> 
> Then, on average, 1 million souls pass her gates every year. Now suppose Graz'zt invades, and all 100 million are killed in a year.  Saes gorges on death.  But next year- no souls come.  None are left alive, and so none can die.  No matter- she's still up by a net 99 million souls. The year after- still no souls.  The year after that- nope.  After 100 years she's where she would have been had there been no invasion.  From that point on she is in a net famine of souls.
> 
> It is really in her interest to let some out to live again- for unless there are living people, no one can die.




...and maybe that's the arguement they'll use to convince her?


----------



## Rackhir

It's worth loosing five months of the boards for this!


----------



## Krafus

A Sep update is the perfect cure for several days' worth of ENWorld deprivation.


----------



## Hjorimir

Out-standing!


----------



## Lazybones

Heh, when I saw the SH title, I wasn't sure if it referred to *last* year's May update, or was a new one. In any case, I'm glad it was the latter. Hope we don't have to wait until May '07!


----------



## Jackylhunter

Happy-happy, Joy-joy!  Thank you for the update Sep.  Fantastic as always.


----------



## Jeremy

She can be magnified?  Oh boy...


----------



## Knightfall

That! Was! Ingenious!


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## rantipole

As brilliant and spellbinding as ever. Thanks, Sep. I'm sorry to see Titivilus go. He's long been one of my favorite devils. Now that Graz'zt is bogged down defending himself from Orcus, is he not going to be a player in these tales? I'll miss him, too. That said, I'm looking forward to seeing what the Cult of Chesne will dish up and how the gods of Sisperi will fit in. Hmm. Maybe I should reread the whole thing again. 

Cheers, 
rant


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## Felix

> Now that Graz'zt is bogged down defending himself from Orcus, is he not going to be a player in these tales?



Yeah, I can see Sep's players thinking:
"Man, we can't be worried about Graz'zt, we've got bigger fish to fry."

Yeesh. Bigger-than-Graz'zt-fish. Scary, eh?


----------



## grodog

Great update Sep!  Thanks muchly!


----------



## Someone

A great continuation to the tradition of epic level D&D. Sep is his own literary genre!


----------



## Yavathol

*geography queries*

Hooray!  Really glad to see you back Sep  
The way you create deep stories that really deal with the implications of what things would be like if it were real is so amazing!!

This would seem to be a good opportunity to re-read everything, and so I just found the map of Wyre that was attached to the first post of the compiled thread.  A couple of queries emerge from looking at that-

I can see Trempa, Morne, Kaurbon, etc, but not Deorham - roughly where is Eadric's demesne?

Is Ueddia on another continent or is it somewhere on the mainland of Wyre?

Finally, have you been playing with the characters over the last year and re-started writing up what happened, or have you not had time for that and just managed to write the latest posts as pure fiction?  Thanks again, and don't worry if time gets precious again; we'll wait


----------



## Olive

Thanks Sep. Always a pleasure.


----------



## Yavathol

To answer my own questions  I've now re-read enough of the story to know roughly where Deorham is and to re-learn that Ueddia is actually Nwm's goddess, not his birthplace, for the benefit of anyone else who was wondering


----------



## Roman

I wondered if I would experience the same feeling of amazement about the story if Sepulchrave ever returned to write it... suffice it to say the answer is yes.


----------



## The Forsaken One

Best stuff


----------



## Greybar

Another update, another mind-blowing experience.

Thank you, again and again.


----------



## Velenne

I stopped playing D&D well over a year ago.  But even then, I was altogether ensorcelled by this story hour.  

To date, it is the sole reason I return to these boards.  I feel like I'm somehow smarter after reading these updates.  They actually inspire me to write!

Better than Martin.  Better than Jordan.  Sep is my literary poobah.


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## Jumbie

Thanks for the update Sep. I just checked like I do every now and then in hopes that you'd updated and this was a nice surprise.

Your writing is spectacular as usual. I'm always a little apprehensive about scrolling down while reading because I'm afraid that I'll see the end of the update. lol

***

I have a question regarding Ortwin/Ortwine. I don't have very much experience with DnD (only from playing NeverWinter Nights, a computer game) and was wondering how the reincarnation works. He, now she, seems like such a totally different entity with almost no ties to her old companions. I recall him being reincarnated once before from human to satyr and he didn't seem so aloof and removed as the sidhe is now.

Would someone care to give me a brief explanation of how this all works? It'd be much appreciated. 

Thanks.


----------



## Joker[ZW]

Here to help


> _from the SRD_
> Reincarnate
> Transmutation
> Level: Drd 4
> Components: V, S, M, DF
> Casting Time: 10 minutes
> Range: Touch
> Target: Dead creature touched
> Duration: Instantaneous
> Saving Throw: None; see text
> Spell Resistance: Yes (harmless)
> With this spell, you bring back a dead creature in another body, provided that its death occurred no more than one week before the casting of the spell and the subject’s soul is free and willing to return. If the subject’s soul is not willing to return, the spell does not work; therefore, a subject that wants to return receives no saving throw.
> Since the dead creature is returning in a new body, all physical ills and afflictions are repaired. The condition of the remains is not a factor. So long as some small portion of the creature’s body still exists, it can be reincarnated, but the portion receiving the spell must have been part of the creature’s body at the time of death. The magic of the spell creates an entirely new young adult body for the soul to inhabit from the natural elements at hand. This process takes 1 hour to complete.  When the body is ready, the subject is reincarnated.
> A reincarnated creature recalls the majority of its former life and form. It retains any class abilities, feats, or skill ranks it formerly possessed. Its class, base attack bonus, base save bonuses, and hit points are unchanged. Strength, Dexterity, and Constitution scores depend partly on the new body. First eliminate the subject’s racial adjustments (since it is no longer of his previous race) and then apply the adjustments found below to its remaining ability scores. The subject’s level (or Hit Dice) is reduced by 1. If the subject was 1st level, its new Constitution score is reduced by 2. (If this reduction would put its Con at 0 or lower, it can’t be reincarnated). This level/HD loss or Constitution loss cannot be repaired by any means.
> It’s possible for the change in the subject’s ability scores to make it difficult for it to pursue its previous character class. If this is the case, the subject is well advised to become a multiclass character.
> For a humanoid creature, the new incarnation is determined using the following table. For nonhumanoid creatures, a similar table of creatures of the same type should be created.
> A creature that has been turned into an undead creature or killed by a death effect can’t be returned to life by this spell.  Constructs, elementals, outsiders, and undead creatures can’t be reincarnated. The spell cannot bring back a creature who has died of old age.
> 
> The reincarnated creature gains all abilities associated with its new form, including forms of movement and speeds, natural armor, natural attacks, extraordinary abilities, and the like, but it doesn’t automatically speak the language of the new form.
> A wish or a miracle spell can restore a reincarnated character to his or her original form.
> Material Component: Rare oils and unguents worth a total of least 1,000 gp, spread over the remains.


----------



## Terwox

Excellent, as always. 
Where's Nehael?  It sounds like she is active... sort of?
And yeah, it's sad to see Titivilus go... and the death of Murmuur was terribly interesting.
"We are forever lost, _Ahma_. Do you not yet understand?"


----------



## Quartz

Wonderful, Sepulchrave. I wonder, is Eadric going to acquire the Saint template?


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Jumbie said:
			
		

> I have a question regarding Ortwin/Ortwine...He, now she, seems like such a totally different entity with almost no ties to her old companions. I recall him being reincarnated once before from human to satyr and he didn't seem so aloof and removed as the sidhe is now.




Two reasons, one in-game and one out: 

1) Ortwin(e) has shown a marked tendency to become more fey in his/her perspective over successive incarnations, and the pattern continues.

2) Ortwine's prior player (a guy called Rob) dropped out and was replaced by another (Helen). The gender change also felt more natural in light of this.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

****

*Untitled Update*



Iua paced back and forth. Violent impulses crowded within her mind, and the recollection of fell deeds felt sweet in her mouth. But huge gaps remained in her memory.

She touched the pommel of her rapier lightly, feeling reassured by its presence. Through her gloved hand, a frisson of power from the weapon made her head spin, as though she had consumed too much _kschiff_.

Egress from the chamber was impossible. As opulent as it might be, she was a prisoner there. The door to the place – if it was a door – showed no sign of lock or handle, and was constructed of some kind of adamant. She had attempted to _plane shift_ without success, and even in a _gaseous form_ she had been unable to pass through the embrasure – a spell prevented passage, and Iua lacked the means to counter it. Looking out, all she saw was a smoking slope which extended below her as far as she could see. At irregular intervals, the ground was wracked by convulsions and liquid fire erupted.

_I am Iua. I am in some Hell or other. I have had an enchantment laid on me: my memory has been selectively erased. I am not dead. I don't think I am._

She knew that there were significant people and places in her life – Mulissu, Ortwin, Ulao, Fumaril, Magathei, Trempa – but she could not clearly remember any events connected with them. When she tried to construct any memory associated with them, it would elude her, and remain tantalizingly beyond her grasp.

She sat upon the bed and waited. She opened her bag – which contained a number of apparently potent items – and laid the contents before her again, as if they might hold the key to her past. A sapphire, rings, amulets, a tiny boat, a lump of dark stone, a sphere, a flat panel of curious design. She gazed at them for a long while, but became frustrated. She replaced them in her bag.

Time passed.

A sound – a low _click_ – finally reached her ears. Iua leapt silently to the side of the portal, drawing her blade. As the door slid open, she dashed forth, intent on escape and slaying any in her way.

None stood there, but as her foot passed over the threshold to the chamber, her memory was suddenly restored to her in full.

She screamed.


**


It was the first time that the _Ahma_ and Nehael had met since their brief exchange during the aftermath of Afqithan. Eadric had not so much purposefully shunned her, he told himself as he walked to meet her, as been occupied with other, more pressing duties. As had she.

_That must be why I feel like vomiting_, he sighed. 

She was sitting in a wicker chair in the same spot which Cynric had favoured; the place where Feezuu had blasted the Prelate into oblivion. The same place where Graz'zt himself had stood and spoken the dreadful syllables which had resulted in the greatest carnage in Morne's long history. Her presence seemed like a potent salve applied to an open wound. 

She smiled when she saw him, causing his head to spin yet further. He sat shakily next to her, and noticed that she smelled like summer rain. He thought briefly.

"Do you retain a sense of irony?" He asked.

She raised an eyebrow.

"That's a good sign," he breathed tensely. "I'm sorry for avoiding you. Too much has passed. I didn't know where to begin. We are not what we were. Other clichés to that effect. I'm now being facetious to cover my discomfort."

_Relax._

He relaxed a little.

"I would learn everything that has passed for you," Nehael said softly. "The totality of your experience. It will help me understand better."

"That may take some time."

"You need not speak. You need not even articulate thoughts and memories that are too uncomfortable for you. First, I would share myself with you in the same manner. It is the only way to heal the trauma. A perfect communion."

"Nehael, I…"

"Do not reject me now, _Ahma_."

He clenched his jaw, and nodded. "How?"

"Consider _Saizhan_, and what it teaches. Can you adopt a Sophist perspective for a moment? Allow that truth to assert itself?"

"How will that help?"

"It will contextualize your perceptions. Place them within a framework which is familiar."

Eadric groaned. "Others seem to alternate between religious truths far easier than I. My transitions are more fraught. But I will do as you ask."

"Are you ready?"

"_Now_?"

"Exactly," she smiled. "_NOW_."

A soft hand reached out, and gently touched his face. His eyelids became heavy.

"Do not close your eyes!" Nehael laughed.

Reality shattered into a billion fragments, and was replaced by Itself.


*


Eadric was possessed of a piercing clarity, in which the world astounded him with its vibrancy and beauty. He looked at Nehael. She was perfect. The oranges hanging nearby – yet to come to full ripeness – were perfect. He listened to the conversation of Temple guards by the gates of the compound, smelled the incense which burned upon the high altar, felt the breeze upon his face on the roof of the Great Fane. He tasted the salt on his lips which blew on the wind from the marshes to the south of Morne. He beheld an ant climbing a rose-bush in a garden in the Bevel. All was perfect.

Beyond all – or beneath all – was a vibration which was inaudible, invisible, and without form. Infinite, yet apprehended in its entirety. 

_Viridity_, he knew. His breath was quick and shallow.

Nehael smiled. "Know me."

The _Ahma_ turned his consciousness – which had become all-encompassing – towards her.

In the space of a fleeting moment, he realized everything about her. Every thought, every memory, every feeling she had ever experienced within her life since her rebirth through the Tree, and a myriad of other lives in cycles within cycles. But stretching back uncounted aeons to the beginning of time itself were another set of memories: impressions which were like dreams, and belonged to one who was no more. Past the Fall, until the Nehael who never was existed only as an unmanifest thought within the Mind of Oronthon. A gnostic ecstasy swept over him.

Abruptly, it ended as she withdrew her power from him. He quaked at the separation from the source. As his ego emerged from the reverie and his persona recrystallized, his breathing slowed again. He focused his mind.

"_Saizho_," he bowed.

He looked at her as her mind absorbed his own experience in its fullness. A single tear ran down her cheek: he watched, and as it fell and struck the floor of the orangery, a thousand tiny flowers erupted from the flagstones.

"You loved her," she smiled.

"Very much," he nodded.

"I am sorry for your loss."

He sighed. "She was my _kius_. The shadow which brought the Good into sharp relief." 

"And now?"

"I see the light with clear eyes. Much doubt has passed."

"But the dreams persist, _Ahma_. Her vestige has not abandoned you, and clings yet to your memories. She exists in you most of all."


**


Mostin fidgeted nervously, waiting for the tea to steep. He glanced sidelong at the Enforcer, who was examining a collection of infernal curios upon one of the shelves in his study. She had assumed a black-clad humanoid shape, approximately female, with impossibly red hair. She turned to face him, and her eyes bored into him. Mostin quickly looked away, jerked his hand spasmodically, and promptly spilled the sugar. 

"Sh*t," he muttered.

"I relish the rare moments in which I am permitted to manifest a body," Gihaahia said, smiling.

_Gods, don't smile. It's too unnerving._

"And a discrete consciousness," the Enforcer added, almost as an afterthought. She sat. "Two sugars, please."

Mostin poured the tea shakily. Most of it found its way into the cup.

"You purport to champion the philosophical tenets which underpin the Injunction," Gihaahia took the cup from the Alienist's uncertain grasp. "Yet you evince a grudging literalism in your approach. As though it were a matter of convenience – or inconvenience – for you. I refer specifically, of course, to the fact that you have chosen to erect your abode _here_ – less than a bowshot from the bounds of Wyre as defined in the nineteenth article. Some might view such a decision as purposely defiant and inflammatory."

"I think…"

"Shut up, Mostin. I haven't finished, yet. You are forgiven for this quasi-infraction. The Claviger loves all of her children, even the wayward ones."

_Her? Children?_ Uedii's teats. She's deranged.

"You remain embroiled in political maneuvering – _shut your mouth, Mostin. I'm still talking._ Before you accuse me of arbitrariness, I have already determined to visit Daunton with the same warning. He's as bad as you are. Your _Académie_ will sink before it has a chance to establish itself if you persist in this attitude. You are inciting other mages to violence. You are conspiring to conjure a demon prince – _yes, I know you don't plan to bind him in Wyre._ You are a rabble-rouser, and a danger to the body magickal. And as for Astaroth…"

Mostin gaped. Only hours before, a fleeting thought had passed through his mind regarding the Lord of Caina. The Alienist had mused – for all of two seconds – upon the possibility of _binding_ the archdevil and forcing him to relinquish Shomei to him.

_She has made her choice, Mostin._

Mostin scowled.

"I am sadistic and vindictive, Mostin," Gihaahia's eyes narrowed to burning slits. "And nothing would give me greater pleasure than to rend your body and hurl it into the Phlegethon. The Claviger is more reasonable, however – which is fortunate for you. You will desist forthwith from all political activity when you are within Wyre's confines. This includes plotting to assault the Cult of Cheshne; associating in councils of war with the _Ahma_, the _Sela_ or any other representative of Oronthon; offering advice to any of Wyre's temporal leaders; or conspiring with other mages to summon demons. If you choose to engage in any of these activities, _let it be outside of Wyre._ If you violate these terms, you will be exiled for a period of one hundred years upon pain of obliteration if you re-enter the proscribed area. Am I clear?"

Mostin nodded dumbly.

"You would be well advised to reflect upon the spirit of the Injunction when making choices regarding these matters. Conjuring Graz'zt ten yards from Wyre's borders will be regarded as insolent, at the very least. Continuing your plots and machinations in a _magnificent mansion_ which abuts Shomei's estate would be considered scandalous. Whilst neither would draw direct retribution, they would predispose the Claviger to a less lenient position if you were arraigned in the future. You may now speak. Be swift. Do you have any questions?"

"Many. Does the Injunction apply to arcanists from Shûth?"

"Of course."

"If I am assailed by a hierophant within Wyre, may I defend myself with impunity?"

"_Defend_, yes," Gihaahia sighed.

"If I open a permanent portal from Shomei's earthly demesne to her astral retreat and convene a council whose agenda is at odds with the Injunction, will it be held against me in the future?"

The threat of the Enforcer's titanic mental grip loomed over Mostin. He knew that she could squash his psyche with a passing thought.

"These are practical considerations," Mostin wailed. "Our existence is threatened."

"Adhere to the Injunction, Mostin. In letter and spirit. The Claviger looks after her own. You will not be abandoned."

"What do you mean?" Mostin asked.

"Precisely that," Gihaahia smiled her evil smile.

"I need to…" Mostin began.

But the Enforcer had vanished, without warning. The Alienist cursed, and hurled the teapot against a bookcase in a fury. What was happening? What was this talk of _gender_ and _maternity_ in relation to the Claviger? It was grossly inappropriate.

Still, somehow, he felt oddly reassured.

He issued a _sending_ to Daunton: _We need to talk. Where are you?_

The reply was laden with fear and apprehension: _Later, Mostin. I have an unexpected guest._

Mostin frowned. His hands were still shaking. He stood, walked to a small cabinet, retrieved an antique bottle, and poured himself a generous draught of vintage firewine. The liquor burned his throat and made him sneeze.

He fondled the _stone of sendings_ briefly, swallowed, and then sent a message to Rimilin.


**


"Will she not compromise?" Lai asked, her voice evincing as much irritation as Nwm had ever before heard.

"Perhaps," the Druid replied. "She may have stated an unreasonably high bargaining position to begin with, with the intention of accepting other terms. But I think that she is genuine. Although it's impossible to tell."

"One of us could relinquish our power," Rhul suggested. "Although she would be bound to Mulhuk, much as we are."

"Would you make such a concession?" Jaliere asked. Smoke bellowed from his nostrils.

"To ensure our survival? Certainly."

"I suspect that Ortwine would find such a proposal unacceptable," Nwm smiled drily. "She wishes to take her divinity with her. Back to Afqithan.*"

"I find this entire conversation absurd," Jaliere grunted. "There must be another way."

"_There is not_," Lai sighed emphatically. "We cannot assault Saes. We cannot coerce her. This fey – who is unknown to her – may be able to achieve what we are incapable of."

"I don't see how." The God of the Forge was becoming agitated, and his beard began to kindle.

"Please remain calm," Lai's tone changed as she tried to placate Jaliere. "Ortwine is a greater liar than any I have met. She is conniving and duplicitous to an extreme degree. Moreover, if she is _motivated_ sufficiently – if the prize is great enough – she will find a way."

"What of the _Ahma_?" Jaliere asked.

"His debt is paid to you," Nwm shook his head. "Three times over. And he is preoccupied with other matters – which I am neglecting in order to be here."

"But you had intended to accompany Ortwine?" 

"Yes," Nwm nodded.

Lai looked shocked. "Why have you said nothing of this to me?"

Nwm shrugged. "I cannot let Ortwine do this alone. I thought you understood that."

"But this is…"

"Madness? Suicide?" Nwm suddenly became angry. "Then perhaps you should ask yourselves whether it is reasonable to ask this of her at all! Decide which this is Lai, because it was my impression that there was a possibility of success."

"Watch your tone, mortal," Jaliere threatened.

"Peace!" Lai raised her hand. 

"All of this is moot," Rhul observed, "if we cannot find a way to grant Ortwine what she demands."

"_Ngaarh!_" Jaliere slammed a gauntleted fist upon the stone table. He barked at two spectral warriors – ancestral spirits who guarded the doors to the hallway.

"Bring in the Fey. This discussion is pointless without her presence." 


**


The island – which rose from the ocean west of Pandicule like a jagged tooth – had been chosen by the mage Kothchori for its isolation and its peculiar aesthetic. Mostin wondered whether, at some time in the distant past, some wind-sorcerer had raised it from the sea bed in order to serve as a base – although the Alienist had no evidence to support such a theory. It was too eccentric, he observed, to be altogether natural.

Rimilin had claimed it as his own and – with a characteristic panache which Mostin grudgingly acknowledged – replaced the crumbling remains of Kothchori's abode with a three-hundred foot tall tower of red iron which pierced the sky like a great, bloody spearhead. The Alienist turned to Orolde.

"He has a certain style," Mostin admitted. "Don't you think?"

"I preferred it as it was," Orolde replied sadly. "Kothchori felt no need for such phallic ostentation." 

"An interesting observation," Mostin nodded. "Which may have some merit. The Ritual of Bonding requires certain sacrifices which most would be unable to endure. Come, Orolde! We shall see whether Rimilin observes those niceties of conduct which transcend even the forced peace of the Claviger. It would be wise to omit any references to genitalia, however. Even after so long, that may still be a sensitive subject."

The duo ascended a hundred or so stone steps to arrive at the base of the tower, and stood before an intricate portal of black adamant, inlayed with precious metals and carved with dire warnings. It ground open to reveal a narrow staircase, lit by lurid green smokeless flambeaux. Mostin sighed, and strode in. Orolde scuttled in nervously behind. There was a brief sensation of dimension at once both stretching and contracting, and Mostin found himself in an echoing hall of great height. He glanced behind quickly to observe Orolde, who still followed him.

The chamber was circular, and was illuminated by a firepit which sat in its dead centre, as well as by seven immense bronze sconces which jutted out of its walls at regular intervals in its periphery. It tapered to an apex perhaps thirty fathoms above, and around the walls a staircase wound, reaching balconies and doors beyond which, presumably, other chambers lay. 

"Welcome," a foul voice issued from above the Alienist. Rimilin stood upon a wide mezzanine which extended for three quarters of the chamber's circumference.

Mostin cleared his throat. "Thank-you. Should I come up, or will you come down?" His voice was louder than he had anticipated, as though some enchantment magnified the sound in the tower's interior.

"Ascend if you dare," Rimilin's voice taunted him. "I promise to be good."

Mostin scowled, and slowly climbed the staircase. 

"Ahh, the hero of the hour," Rimilin said acidly as Mostin gained the balcony. The walls were lined with bookcases crammed with thousands of ancient tomes. "Your coup with the Assembly will merit discussion ten generations hence – if it survives at all."

Mostin stared hard at him. His hairless head and naked torso glistened with an oily black secretion, and he smelled rank.

"I have come to take counsel," Mostin said simply. "Aside from Daunton and Jalael, you are the only mage who openly advocates a proactive stance in our dealings with Shûth."

"The inertia of Wyre's wizards will be their undoing," Rimilin spat. "They all deserve to perish."

"It is incumbent upon us that we convince them to act in concert," Mostin sighed.

Rimilin snorted, and sat in a siege of wrought Abyssal bronze. He motioned to Mostin to do the same. Orolde fumbled nervously and produced a ledger and a quill pen – from which the feathers had been judiciously removed.

"Why did you insist to bring your scribe with you?" Rimilin's brow furrowed. "Did you think that it would cause me to moderate my tone?"

"Not at all," Mostin sat stiffly. He wasn't even sure himself why he had commanded Orolde to attend him. Perhaps he needed the unqualified moral support. Perhaps he felt that it was high time that the Sprite was exposed to the inner counsels of Wyre's most accomplished mages: Orolde's aptitude for magic was beginning to assert itself, and soon he would be faced with the choice of whether or not to remain with the Alienist. Mostin grimaced. Such was the way of things.

"Has the Enforcer paid you a visit, yet?" Mostin inquired.

Rimilin's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"There are those among us, myself and Daunton included, who tread close to the legal boundaries – both physically and metaphorically – of the Injunction. Gihaahia was kind enough to point out the fact that sometimes my actions are questionable."

"I have received no such warning. Perhaps you are more controversial than I," Rimilin smiled.

_Perhaps physical proximity to Wyre is more important than I suspected_, Mostin thought.

"I have recently succoured the _Sela_ for celestial aid," Mostin tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair.

"You? An Enochian?" Rimilin's voice oozed with contempt. "You have been reduced to a lowly estate, Mostin!"

"I am exploring every option!" Mostin hissed. "And I preclude nothing at this stage. I need reliable allies, not fickle compactees. Devils are out of the question."

"I heard of Furcas," Rimilin smiled. "That may prove a costly mistake."

"I take it then that word has not yet reached you of Titivilus and Murmuur? They are also destroyed."

"_Three Infernal Dukes?_" Rimilin was visibly impressed. "That must be some kind of record."

"It was Eadric, not I, who slew them."

"I doubt that Dispater – or the Fly-Lords – will differentiate your complicity."

"Indeed," Mostin acknowledged.

"You might petition Belial for aid," Rimilin suggested. "If you care to walk Shomei's path."

"I do not. And I do not have the resources to pursue pseudonatural servitors at this stage. I am in danger of further exhausting my reservoir if I do. My options are limited. And in the field of rapidly polarizing allegiances, I must side _against Cheshne_. That is the biggest threat to me, and to Wyre."

"You risk a great deal in telling me this," Rimilin was suspicious. "Why?"

"Because, despite your depravity, you are no nihilist, and you understand _necessity_."

"You seek to act as the catalyst for a Cascade," Rimilin realized. "You think that you can force the hand of the celestial host, if Enitharmon perceives a large enough threat? Those days are over, Mostin. The demise of the Temple ended that paradigm, and both the _Ahma_ and the _Sela_ sealed that door when they chose mysticism over Orthodoxy."

"For themselves, maybe. Personally, I will use whatever tools I need to. Think on that."


**


Ortwine strode slowly into the council chamber in Mulhuk. Rhul gazed at her in wonder as she approached: her beauty was undeniable, though cold, and her very presence seemed more profound than any there – who bore the title of _god_ or _goddess_ – could claim.

"Have you found a way?" She asked calmly.

"No," Lai admitted.

The Sidhe turned, and began to walk away.

"Ortwine, please," Rhul implored. "We are at a loss. If we could grant this freely, we would. We are but little gods," his voice was ironic. "You know this. You ask the impossible."

She turned to face them, and thought for a long moment. 

"Very well," she finally said. "The payment can wait. As it depends upon my success in any event, here are the terms that I propose: Upon release of the spirits of the dead – assuming that such a deed can be accomplished – you will admit me nominally to your ranks. When Lai and Nwm _reincarnate_ the disembodied _en masse_, my worship will be actively encouraged by your agents. As your power begins to wax again, as surely it will; you will, after all, have a monopoly on religion," sarcasm dripped from Ortwine's tongue, "then I will claim my divinity along with an equal – which is to say twenty percent – share of the veneration from Sisperi's burgeoning population. Which brings me to my portfolio."

Nwm gaped. Ortwine had some truly outrageous ideas.

"I choose lies and trickery. I have observed that you lack a suitable exemplar in these areas. _But_ – and here is where you make a concession to me now, before we begin – Jaliere must first perform a task for me."

"Must he indeed?" Jaliere thundered.

Ortwine drew _Githla_, and handed it to the God of the Forge. "This blade was forged by the Azer Jodrumu, before he went mad."

Jaliere brandished it, feeling its balance and judging its temper with his mind's eye. "This is a fine weapon. Jodrumu – whoever he was – was a gifted smith."

"Just so," Ortwine agreed.

"You wish it reforged by Jaliere?" Lai asked.

"Not exactly," Ortwine smiled slowly. "I wish it married with another blade. If such a task is within his abilities."

Jaliere guffawed. "If not I, then who? Which is this other weapon?"

But Nwm already knew. Just as he knew that Ortwine alone was most likely to succeed in deceiving Saes, because the Sidhe had played him – and the Nireem – already.

The Druid grimaced. "The sword is named _Heedless_. And I strongly advise against this course of action, Ortwine."

"Your concern is duly noted," Ortwine nodded. "And ignored. If I am to be a goddess, Nwm, I must have a blade worthy of me."






* The Chiefs of the Nireem (except Ninit) retain a divine rank of 1 only when within Mulhuk, the minor heaven which abuts Sisperi. Outside of its confines, they are treated as DR0 quasi-deities.


*


----------



## pogre

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> Two reasons, one in-game and one out:
> 
> 1) Ortwin(e) has shown a marked tendency to become more fey in his/her perspective over successive incarnations, and the pattern continues.
> 
> 2) Ortwine's prior player (a guy called Rob) dropped out and was replaced by another (Helen). The gender change also felt more natural in light of this.




I cannot believe someone dropped out of your game!

Great update BTW.


----------



## Samnell

Thanks, Sep.


----------



## shilsen

Excellent, as ever.


----------



## Rackhir

WOW....






I am surprised to learn that Orwine's player had changed. Asking for Godhood seemed so munchkin. Something he was notorious for.

But amazing writing as always.


----------



## Kestrel

Great Birthday gift!  Thanks Sep!


----------



## Terwox

Most excellent.


----------



## Fiasco

Thankyou Sepulchrave. You work continually leaves me in awe of the scope and grandeur that can be achived in a Story Hour. Rest assured your hard work and sacrifice in continually producing writings of such quality are much appreciated.


----------



## darkbard

Just read this update aloud to my wife as an impromptu birthday present.  She said it left all physical gifts in the dust....


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## Morte

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> "Shut up, Mostin. I haven't finished, yet. You are forgiven for this quasi-infraction. The Claviger loves all of her children, even the wayward ones."
> 
> _Her? Children?_ Uedii's teats. She's deranged.
> 
> [...]
> 
> What was this talk of _gender_ and _maternity_ in relation to the Claviger? It was grossly inappropriate.




What started as a rules-based system for enforcing an agreement -- essentially a machine -- seems to be turning into a goddess, with personality and motivations.

Neat.


----------



## Vargo

> Her? Children? Uedii's teats. She's deranged.



Pot.  Kettle.  Black.


----------



## Quartz

As someone once said, 'We are not worthy.'

But a portfolio of lies and trickery? That's setting up a conflict with Eadric down the line.


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## Samnell

Vargo said:
			
		

> Pot.  Kettle.  Black.




I don't know about that. If anything Mostin seems to have mellowed. When he first appeared he was counting cobblestones, avoiding stepping on cracks, and hating birds. Now we only hear about the bird hatred.


----------



## Elephant

Samnell said:
			
		

> I don't know about that. If anything Mostin seems to have mellowed. When he first appeared he was counting cobblestones, avoiding stepping on cracks, and hating birds. Now we only hear about the bird hatred.




...and he's reluctantly compromising that, too (considering alliances with celestials).


----------



## Knightfall

Youknow, I was feeling downright "grumpy" before reading the latest update. Thanks Sep, you made my day.

KF72


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## Victim

Samnell said:
			
		

> I don't know about that. If anything Mostin seems to have mellowed. When he first appeared he was counting cobblestones, avoiding stepping on cracks, and hating birds. Now we only hear about the bird hatred.




His madness has only become less mundane.  It hasn't diminished.


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## Lela

Elephant said:
			
		

> ...and he's reluctantly compromising that, too (considering alliances with celestials).



 There is the featherless stipulation.


----------



## gloomymarshes

I remember reading about Mostin's meta-gnosticism years ago, but I've since forgotten how it worked exactly, and I can't find Sepulchrave's post about it either. Can anyone enlighten me?


----------



## Samnell

All I recall is something about his proving his transcendence through overcoming supernatural beings. I guess Shomei was on a similar path, but according to Tramst the only way not to end up in hell was through accepting Oronthonian mysticism. So now she's an infernal plaything even though Eadric checked her more than once and found her clean of evil.

Sort of a bummer, but I could be remembering wrong.


----------



## Thalantor

I don't think Mostin is becoming any less crazier, but rather that the insanity of their "Now" is catching up with him. 

He's got a Messiah-like champion of good bedding evil, a Reincar-aumatic glutton demanding godhood for services rendered, a druid which despite his desire for inner calm has laid down the smack more than the others combined and more contact with outerplanar creatures now than when he did when they didn't put in the Injunction.. The inability to define normality in this context seriously hampers our tries to think of Mostin as insane, tbh.   

Btw.. Kudos for the boldness of Ortwine's request.. That sword merge made me have a lootgasm.


----------



## Lela

Samnell said:
			
		

> All I recall is something about his proving his transcendence through overcoming supernatural beings. I guess Shomei was on a similar path, but according to Tramst the only way not to end up in hell was through accepting Oronthonian mysticism. So now she's an infernal plaything even though Eadric checked her more than once and found her clean of evil.
> 
> Sort of a bummer, but I could be remembering wrong.





I had thought Shomei's Infernal dealings (Foust anyone) had had a lot to do with putting her in Hell perminantly.  I suppose they certainly didn't help either way.

Oh, has anyone else noticed Motsin's, well, um, references to Shomei feeling a little stronger than friendship?  I get the impression the crazy man could go psycho stalker.  You know, in a transendent, scrying from above, sort of way.  Really, it's romantic.    

I wonder if that's part of the real reason he's courting celestials: "I help you.  You help me.  We all go rescue Shomei."


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## Sollir Furryfoot

*shrug* Mostin has a hard time making true friends and has always shown himself to be more than just a loyal ally-getting angry when he felt the others were taking advantage of him and his mirror for instance.  I really don't see it in a creepy way how he refers to Shomei, and I think he would do the same for Eadric/Ortwin(e)/Nwm, although I imagine he's closer to Shomei due to their similar inclinations and intellect.

As for Shomei being in hell, I'm not sure about that one.  I recall something about Tramst telling Eadric he would open the way for her into heaven, but I imagine its some sort of philosophical self-doubt/rebelliousness that leaves her in perdition.


----------



## Jumbie

So incredibly awesome

Thanks for explaning the reincarnation to me.


----------



## Felix

Get up old thread; like Mako says, "time enough for the earth in the grave".

And you ain't dead yet.


----------



## Starman

The best story hour on page 2? I won't stand for it!


----------



## Vorput

Starman said:
			
		

> The best story hour on page 2? I won't stand for it!




Seconded!


----------



## Jeremy

I was just wondering if there was a MS Word backup or some such of the other story hour with the heavy Anglo-Saxon slant with the multiclassed spellcasting party...  I assume the post of it got destroyed in the database implosion but I was looking to read it again..   Pretty please?


----------



## Starman

I don't remember an actual SH. I thought Sep just posted some of his characters and a broad outline of the world and campaign.


----------



## grodog

Great update Sep---I hadn't noticed it prior to today, as I've been travelling a lot over the past few months :/  The Shuthites are interesting:  I wonder if they view the celestial purification of the necropolis of Khu as a first strike of sorts, hence their return/invasion into Wyrish space....

Jeremy:  there's a copy of Divertimento (sp?) over on the Yahoo Group archive @ http://games.groups.yahoo.com/group/Sepulchraves-Wyre/ in the Files area (you need to join the group to gain access to the files).  One day I will get around to updating the files there with posts from the past year or so.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Untitled Update*

Tahl was first, and Rede was second. 

When the _Ahma_ brought the former Master of the Temple back, he found that Tahl's assessment had been correct: a righteous wrath had been Oronthon's gift to Rede of Dramore, whose realization of the truth had come too late.

Eadric had descended together with Tahl into the catacombs, and they had smashed sarcophagi open. Saint Tahl prayed as the _Ahma_, who alone of Oronthon's mortal servants possessed the power,* had called them back, breathing life into them: Tuan Muat, an Inquisitor of singular determination; Kustus of Mord; Wurz, the founder of the Mission; Moda the Exorcist; Tarpion the Rash; Anaqiss Twice-Apostate, who had briefly supported both the Irrenites and the Sophics before recanting his heresies; Haubi of Thahan. Former grandees and luminaries in the Magistratum, some of whom had been dead for two centuries or more. All had perished violently: in war, or at the hands of demons or assassins, or through acts of betrayal by those who sought to supplant them. Unquiet spirits who – gifted with new life and vigour – pledged themselves both to Eadric and to the teachings of _Saizhan_, body and soul.

Tahl called steeds to serve them: a brood of ancient celestial griffons of prodigious size, whose names were buried in forgotten temple tomes.** Eadric took Hauthuts, hot-tempered and proud, whose feathered mane bore a silver sheen. He knew that before the Fall, Murmuur's steed had been kin to them, and mused how many had descended with their masters into damnation: their adherence to virtue seemed already precarious. Within a week, there were twenty of them. They consumed horses more quickly than Eadric could have imagined possible. 

The date of the embassy drew near, and Eadric considered his possibilities. After agonizing over the choices, he opted to retain Rede and Tarpion, deploying the others – including Kustus, who possessed great strategic insight – to order the _Sela_'s position south of Wyre. Tuan Muat, Wurz, Moda and Anaqiss were powerful spellcasters whose presence was sorely needed in the Temple camp; Tahl, he would not spare.

Nehael's initiative would be formally ratified by the Small Council in the august presence of King Tiuhan, a political move organized by Prince Tagur: Tiuhan approached his fourteenth birthday, and his majority. But Mostin and Daunton would join the party later, beyond Wyre's borders. Mostin had indicated that there were _diplomatic considerations_ that should not be overlooked which prevented his official involvement.

_Ugh. Politics,_ Eadric thought. 

"Will you seize power, if a time comes where it seems necessary?" Tahl inquired archly of him. "There are rules you have yet to break."

The _Ahma_ sighed. "Probably, knowing my luck."

"Do you think if they get us all in one place, they will try to overwhelm us with one, swift stroke?"

"Maybe," Eadric nodded. "But I think they'll fail if they do. They are not yet prepared. And we aren't so helpless. Now uncertainty vexes them, and it may be we can force their hand. Time is no longer on their side."

Tahl nodded. There were nine hundred sarcophagi in the Temple catacombs.


**


The fortress, which perched upon an island of matter, drifted in a haphazard fashion through a grey, featureless astral planescape.

Sho stood in the courtyard and gazed up at the expanses above her. She felt no desire. No fear. No joy. But neither did she feel _nothing_: oblivion was a state denied to her.  She experienced only a perpetual, mild discomfort, as her incomplete psyche attempted to balance two irreconcilable commands:

_Preserve what you are. Become other than what you are._

Her creator's gift to her – other than a semblance of life – had been a lingering existential malaise. She sighed – because that is what she understood was appropriate – and entered the keep: a round bastion pierced with narrow windows, from which issued the bluish-green light of a _dimensional lock_. She made her way by a narrow staircase into a chamber in the bedrock, where the Alienist was closeted.

Potent wards protected the place. Mostin paced back and forth, irritated. Within a thaumaturgic diagram, a solar – Taruz – stood in glorious, radiant, blissful meditation. Captured by a _superior planar binding_ – a spell developed by Shomei – the celestial had refused point-blank to deal with Mostin until it was released. Events were not transpiring as the Alienist had hoped.

Mostin glanced sidelong at Sho, but refused to meet her gaze. He would not look at her directly – something which Sho knew should make her feel upset. She decided to pout, but the expression was lost on Mostin. 

Orolde – who sat on a low stool – smiled at her, and raised his stump. He hopped down, and scurried over.

"The celestial is being less than accommodating," the Sprite whispered. "Where is Mei?"

"She still reads," Sho answered. Orolde was kind to her. She felt that she should like him.

She coughed, in an effort to attract Mostin's attention. 

The Alienist scowled. 

"I should like to explore," Sho asserted. "May I leave the keep?"

Mostin raised an eyebrow. "I think you might find the landscape hereabouts rather dull – although I would advise caution nonetheless. But I am not your master. Do what you will. Perhaps Orolde will accompany you."

The Alienist watched as they departed. His clumsy efforts to nudge the simulacra towards self-realization had, thus far, had negligible results; they had demonstrated nothing which could be described as genuine individuation. It would take time, and magic of a magnitude he could barely begin to comprehend, to effect that change. And there was never enough time.

He dwelt briefly on the possibilities offered by Shomei's infinity of pseudoanalogues, before dismissing them from his mind.  

After invoking powerful protections, Mostin turned to Taruz. "Don't try any funny business. Don't try to intimidate me – it won't work. And spare me your moralizing."

He waved his hand, and a little of the powdered silver which formed the protective circle around the celestial blew away. Taruz stepped forth.

"I know you have a _very_ good reason for this, Mostin," the Solar's eyes bored into him.


**


The Arcanaloth, Tholhaluk, gazed into the _scrying_ mirror, observing Iua's endless progress through the maze within his basalt fortress with an expression of malicious curiosity. At whiles, she would stop to regain her bearings; or, alternatively collapse for an hour in uncontrolled bursts of tears as memories cascaded through her mind. She was perched precariously on the edge of sanity. The Daemon smiled – it was important that she not be pushed _too_ far if she were to be effectively harnessed, and not utterly broken. 

Surab, who had moved into her rapier, prompted her as necessary. Always in proximity to Iua, he could reinhabit her at need – should her actions become too suspicious or threatening. He played masterfully on her wild, impulsive nature; the instinctual chaos which was her elemental self. She had taken to the corruption which he lavished on her, greedily absorbing the taint whilst simultaneously rejecting it in disgust. Angst raged through her: she was empowered and violated; stripped of her will, yet granted boons which no mortal could hope for. She found it increasingly difficult to separate her own identity from the evil which drove a dark desire to maim, rape and kill. 

Sensing her own damnation, she wept spasmodically in despair, all the while exulting.

Within the shifting walls of the maze – from which, it was becoming apparent to Iua, there was no real exit – Tholhaluk had placed a number of conundrums. Perverse scenarios wrought of shadowstuff, in which Iua was forced to act as the protagonist in a play whose choices always dealt misery, pain and death – but, for her, granted an ecstatic release which left her calm and sated. But only for a little while.

Eadric – the _Ahma_ – might have fared better, she mused as she watched fiendish trolls idly butcher children and gorge on their flesh. Her spirits soared as her body heaved in revulsion. 

_But I am not Eadric. What hope do I have? They are breaking me._ 

She laughed maniacally. She knew that the pain would finally end, when she could recall her own mother's murder with delicious satisfaction. 

*

Even after abandoning Graz'zt – a decision which Tholhaluk wrily observed he might later come to regret – the daemon remained on favorable terms with a number of Azzagrat's proxies. The initial assault upon Zelatar by death knights, blood fiends and Abyssal ghouls had seemed, at first, overwhelming. Tholhaluk had panicked; bursting free from the sealed palace with a powerful _disjunction_ which had ripped a hole through defenses erected by Graz'zt; for which, the Arcanaloth knew, he had gained the everlasting enmity of the Dark Prince. However, Tholhaluk believed – correctly – that he was low on the list of Graz'zt's priorities as far as potential targets for revenge were concerned. He would have a few centuries, at least, before his former sponsor's eye was turned towards him: if Azzagrat endured at all through the current crisis.

Yaugot – the fearsome king of Terkenutung – still paid for the services of thugs provided by Tholhaluk, and the daemon had seized upon the vacuum of opportunity left by the withdrawal Graz'zt's troops from that world. Mazikreen – one of the few succubi to have successfully disentangled herself from the webs of Queen Alrunes to forge a kingdom of her own – had graced him with a visit in his citadel soon after Orcus had invested Azzagrat. Suudjut – a balor who rivalled Ainhorr in his power – had also made overtures to Tholhaluk; apparently eager for trade in souls but, in fact, the daemon knew, anxious to procure the sword _Heedless_, which was reported to be still in Afqithan. Tholhaluk, who had lost a veritable host of mercenaries in the Confrontation, was understandably reluctant to pursue any enterprise there. And now the heart of Afqithan was in Faerie: woe betide any fiend who roused the Sidhe-Lords from their languor.

Tholhaluk was, as always, treading carefully. But Iua was an opportunity. He would work with Surab for as long as it took for one of them to destroy the other. With grim appreciation, Tholhaluk knew that he wouldn't be the corpse at the end of it.


**


"What would you require of me, in order to secure unqualified celestial aid?" Mostin asked bluntly. "If, for example, I needed a handful of cherubs to aid me in casting a spell?"

The solar's eyes went blank for a moment.

_The bastard is _communing_ with his superiors_, Mostin knew. _Don't they ever think for themselves?_

"A genuine recantation of your prior crimes," Taruz smiled beatifically. "That you wholeheartedly embrace Oronthon, and demonstrate – through your deeds and words – a dedication to His cause. If you achieved such a state of grace, however, I suspect that the likelihood of you _wanting_ to cast such a spell would be zero."

Mostin groaned. "Who are you speaking with? Enitharmon? You're certainly towing the Orthodox line, aren't you?"

"Your dealings with fiends have not endeared you to the celestial host."

Mostin held his tongue, as mentioning the name _Soneillon_ would have merely elicited rhetoric from Taruz regarding the mission of the _Ahma_ which the Alienist was in no mood to hear.

"The fact that I am in a position to defend Wyre – and the faithful – from an inevitable demonic assault, and that you show reluctance in aiding me in my efforts might be construed as rather short-sighted, don't you agree?"

"Your lack of faith in the vision of the _Sela_ merely demonstrates your unworthiness in this area," Taruz observed.

"It was the _Sela_ who suggested that I contact the host!" Mostin was becoming increasingly frustrated.

"That is known," Taruz nodded. "As is your participation in the coming mission to the Cheshnite sect. Hence, I am demonstrating a greater tolerance of your _binding_ me than I might otherwise."

_Oh, for Shomei's rod_, Mostin lamented, and cursed the _Akesoli._ He thought deeply for a long while.

"I need allies, Taruz. Powerful, effective allies who can be trusted, and who will not bleed me dry in the coming months. Allies whose agendas are not entirely at odds with my own. But my spirit is mine, and you may not lay claim to it: I have transcended, and I am beyond your grasp. I will not recant my sins, for in my judgment – the only judgment to which I am beholden – I have committed none. I propose a _mutually beneficial arrangement._ Is that so hard to wrap your feathery head around?"

"The thought of looking to the obvious has come late to you."

"Don't be so damned smug!"

"There will be no cascade," Taruz said firmly, "unless Enitharmon so decrees it. Nor will the celestial host aid or in any way condone your efforts to bind Graz'zt – or any other fiend for that matter. You will not subject celestials to _bindings_: it is inappropriate."

"_Inappropriate_? And why no cascade? You were willing enough at Khu."

"Why does Oronthon choose to incarnate himself? Why does he not reorder creation so that it is more to his liking?"

"Trust me," Mostin scowled. "You do _not_ want to have this conversation with me. Go on."

"If you open a _gate_ to call archons or devas you will find them well-disposed towards you. Payment will be waived and reciprocal service will be considered rendered if they are deployed in a manner consonant with the will of the _Ahma_ and the _Sela_. I should also point out that your options are running out."

"Thank-you for your keen observation. I accept the terms – with one caveat. Under no circumstances are celestials called by me to trespass within the borders of Wyre as defined under article nineteen-point-zero of the Injunction. The Enforcer would have my head on a stick for such an infringement."

"That is understood."

"I also reserve the right to summon any fiend, in the knowledge that our agreement will expire at the moment that I do. I expect no retribution if this occurs."

"I can make no such promise."

"I'll take my chances," Mostin said drily. 


**


The sword _Heedless_ was brought to Jaliere – the smith of the gods – with great pomp and ceremony, as befitted Ortwine's whimsy. Nwm had opened a doorway between two great trees – a banyan in Afqithan and a fir in Sisperi – through which a procession of gnomes bearing the weapon appeared with great solemnity. They were followed by dancing nymphs and flights of portunes – the tiniest of sprites, each no bigger than a thumbnail. Satyrs blew copper horns. Sundry minor feys capered and applauded.

Ortwine signalled for quiet, and an excited hush fell upon the assembled throng. As _Heedless_ was rendered to Jaliere's apprentices, one satyr could restrain himself no longer, and began blowing a raucous note on his horn. Ortwine quickly _silenced_ the offender, and smiled benignly. Her expression changed to a scowl as the doors to the smithy were closed and locked tight; Jaliere would admit his secrets to none.

As the feys cavorted through the roads and courtyards of Mulhuk, Nwm turned to Ortwine.

"How did you make the sword quiescent?"

"I _charmed_ it, of course. I have utterly seduced it. It adores me."

"It may come to resent its bondage."

"I predict an uneasy relationship," Ortwine agreed. "Nonetheless, at present, _Heedless_ and I are newlyweds. We should bask in the first flush of romance."

"I suspect that it may harbor less good feeling towards you after its shape has been contorted and bound to another blade."

"Love is pain, Nwm."

"How long will you be remaining?" Nwm asked. "Jaliere may take a month to complete his work."

"How long does the _gate_ remain open?"

"The portal is permanent," Nwm replied calmly.

"_What?_" Ortwine screamed. A fury crossed her face.

"It is not the first."

"_How dare you!_" She was still screaming. Evidently, Ortwine valued her isolation more than Nwm had anticipated.

"Not just to Afqithan, but to other areas in Faerie, to Nizkur, to places which you are not worthy to behold. I forge connections, Ortwine. It is _my_ fee to you and the Nireem. Call it a finder's fee."

"Contact me in a month, or whenever the thing is ready," Ortwine hissed.

"Trust my foresight!" Nwm snapped. "I do what I must; that includes squeezing my friends for their debts: if you think you can unravel yourself from your past deeds, you may not find it so easy."

"I will have it _dispelled_."

"Afqithan is in Faerie now, and you do not _own_ Faerie," Nwm sighed. "Your direct hegemony is limited, whatever title you choose to assume. Do not thwart me, Ortwine, but accept that my vision is sound. Return with me to Wyre. Events transpire in which we should be part."

"Wyre bores me."

"Annihilation threatens."

"So what? You tell me this when I have no weapon?"

"I'm sure Eadric has a spare."

Ortwine glowered.


**


Anumid, the mouthpiece of Cheshne, knelt in supplication before his eleven masters – hierophants, necromancers and blood magi. Some were living, some were dead. Some were human – or had once been. All were immortal. His voice sounded as a dirge, as he recounted the disposition of the Wyrish embassy.

"The _Ahma_, and three of those whom he has _resurrected_ – Tahl the Incorruptible, Rede and Tarpion; also Nwm the Preceptor, Mesikammi the Shamaness and the witch Hlioth; Prince Tagur of Einir, and twelve of the finest knights in Wyre; Ortwine the Sidhe, usurper of the throne of Afqithan; Daunton and Mostin, champions of Wyre's fledgeling collegiate system of wizardry."

"Ahh, the heralds of the new order," Sibud spoke. His inflection was two thousand years old, but well-known to those there: Sibud was a primal vampire of ancient pedigree, the sire of many masters. 

"Daunton insists upon a _dimensional lock_. Mostin has enough magical support to invoke his _quiescence of the spheres_, and will likely do so."

"So be it," Yeshe the Binder nodded. "Let them spend their strength thus. I will go: I should like to meet the _Ahma_."

"And I," Naatha purred.

"As would I," Sibud smiled. "Set the meeting for midnight."

"At Galda?" Anumid inquired.

"If Mostin requires that it be outside of Wyre's borders, we should indulge him," the lich Choach rasped. "I will also attend."

"Anumid will accompany us, and Visuit," Yeshe decreed. "Let the remainder of the company, to the number of two dozen, be chosen as each of we four see fit." 










*Long ago I house-ruled _raise dead_ to be a 7th-level spell and (true) _resurrection_ to be 9th-level. In the Temple's history, _raise dead_ has only been cast a handful of times. Before Eadric, no _resurrection_ had ever been made. Prior to the advent of _Saizhan_, there was a necromantic taboo associated with both spells.

**The griffons are advanced (10 HD) celestial monsters of legend with the haste and spell-turning special abilities. I rule that when templated creatures are called with _planar ally_ spells, each +1CR of a template counts as 2HD for purposes of determining whether a creature is subject to it.

N.B.: Contundor got smushed by Nalfeshnees in Afqithan, something which I neglected to mention previously.


----------



## Rackhir

Yes! An update! A pleasure to read as always.

Eadric should invest in some magical "Bag's O Horse Meat". No griffon owner should be without one as it saves endless conflicts with other party members by stopping the griffons from munching on other's mounts.


----------



## Starman

*Does a happy dance* An update from Sep is always cause for celebration.


----------



## Knightfall

Amazing, simply amazing. This story hour is my favorite fiction, right now, even beyond published novels.

KF72


----------



## Felix

Zing! Love me some Wyre.



> Contundor got smushed by Nalfeshnees



Awww... *tear*


----------



## Jeremy

grodog said:
			
		

> Jeremy:  there's a copy of Divertimento (sp?) over on the Yahoo Group archive @ http://games.groups.yahoo.com/group/Sepulchraves-Wyre/ in the Files area (you need to join the group to gain access to the files).  One day I will get around to updating the files there with posts from the past year or so.




Not Divertimento but the more recent one with the thanes and the multiclassed druids and bards.  It may not have been a full fledged story hour but it was fantastic reading in any case and I wanted to go back to it.  I was wondering if anyone had a copy before the boards ate it.

And...  Yay!  Update.  I love the new bad guys, very impressive, and the length to which the good guys are going to prepare makes them even more so.

Sweetness.


----------



## Yair

Happy joy joy.

Thanks Sep.


----------



## Jackylhunter

hmmm, fantastic doesn't seem to do this SH justice.  But I'm tired and it'll have to do for now.  I'll come up with a better adjective when I get a chance.


----------



## IcyCool

Absolutely incredible.  This is a fantastic storyhour Sep!


----------



## The Forsaken One

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> Amazing, simply amazing. This story hour is my favorite fiction, right now, even beyond published novels.




Dun dun dun!


----------



## Someone

Knightfall1972 said:
			
		

> Amazing, simply amazing. This story hour is my favorite fiction, right now, even beyond published novels.
> 
> KF72




Ditto. I´ve read several fantasy novels that are now cnsidered classics that are way behind this SH.


----------



## Quartz

Oh frabjulous day!


----------



## darkbard

callooh ... callay ...


----------



## Fiasco

I'd swear that Sepulchrave was channelling Jack Vance except that Jack Vance is still alive.


----------



## HalfOrc HalfBiscuit

Fiasco said:
			
		

> I'd swear that Sepulchrave was channelling Jack Vance except that Jack Vance is still alive.




But has anyone ever seen them both together in a room?


----------



## grodog

Jeremy said:
			
		

> Not Divertimento but the more recent one with the thanes and the multiclassed druids and bards.  It may not have been a full fledged story hour but it was fantastic reading in any case and I wanted to go back to it.  I was wondering if anyone had a copy before the boards ate it.




Hmmm, I must have missed that   If anyone else has a copy, I'd be happy to add it to the Yahoo archive.  (Is it in a google cache somewhere??).


----------



## tleilaxu

from a web enhancement for fiendish codex I:

http://www.wizards.com/default.asp?x=dnd/we/20060620a&page=3



> Not all of Spirac's visitors come seeking game. According to Abyssal lore, a mountain pool near the assumed geographic center of the infinite layer rejuvenates 1d4 x 10 years from a body each time the mortal bathes in the pool. The phenomenon has drawn many mortals to the plane, with most ending up amid scraps of once-fierce prey in the bags of renowned demonic huntsmen. Those who reach the pool, it is said, must sacrifice a portion of their free will to the demon lady Soneillon, who dwells in its unwholesome depths.




has someone at WotC been reading this story hour?


----------



## Starman

tleilaxu said:
			
		

> has someone at WotC been reading this story hour?




Didn't Sep take the name from some 1E book? I'm sure he gave Soneillon different traits and a different story, but I'm sure the name comes from one of TSR's books.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Starman said:
			
		

> Didn't Sep take the name from some 1E book? I'm sure he gave Soneillon different traits and a different story, but I'm sure the name comes from one of TSR's books.




Soneillon is also from real world demonology.  Though not as a female- a seducer of nuns, iirc.

[edit]
The Wikipedia entry lists her as 

Soneillon (f)  "The Youthful Crone"
Area of Concern: Rejuvenation  
layer 71: Spirac 
mentioned (only) in MM2.  
other notes:  Not to be confused with the succubus who masquerades as her as detailed in "Lost Empires of Faerun".

This page quotes from the _Admirable History_ (1612) where a possession of a nun named Sr. Madeleine is discussed.  Sonneillon is one of the demons, and is described as follows:



			
				Admirable History said:
			
		

> Sonneillon  is the fourth in the order of Thrones, and tempts men with hatred against their enemies.




So there you have it.


----------



## grodog

Soneillion appears in the list of demon lords/ladies/princes/queens in the AD&D MM2.  That's the only previous reference to her in 1st edition.  

Synchronicitously, Sep and my old DM at Penn State and I all made use of Soneillon as a demon queen of succubi, which is quite the coincidence.  There's a little discussion of that in the RG thread, IIRC.


----------



## tleilaxu

i was specifically referring to the pool, as sep's sonellion ended in a pool.


----------



## Cheiromancer

I would imagine the conceptual link is more with a "fountain of youth" kind of idea than with the story hour's account of Soneillon's final resting place.


----------



## tleilaxu

i can't find the rogue's gallery thread anymore. help?


----------



## Cheiromancer

You mean Eadric et. al. (The Paladin and his Friends). right?


----------



## tleilaxu

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> You mean Eadric et. al. (The Paladin and his Friends). right?




thanks... if i might make a suggestion for your tales of wyre thread.

could you add the hyperlinks for all the various stuff in the first post, including divertimento and the mercian posts? whenever i want to look at something specific sep wrote, i end up rooting around for a half-hour.


----------



## Vorput

...Anyone know what happened to the old tales of the wyre story hour thread?

I can't seem to find it...

N/m- found it, bumped it.


----------



## Al the Absentminded

Has it been mentioned anywhere why the Claviger warned Mostin away from aquiring Shomei's soul?

I mean, she's made her choice, and that choice is to no longer have any say over who owns her. Why should Mostin be disqualified from owning her if he wishes to persue that option?

-Albert the Absentminded


----------



## Justin

Al the Absentminded said:
			
		

> Has it been mentioned anywhere why the Claviger warned Mostin away from aquiring Shomei's soul?
> 
> I mean, she's made her choice, and that choice is to no longer have any say over who owns her. Why should Mostin be disqualified from owning her if he wishes to persue that option?
> 
> -Albert the Absentminded




This is only surmise  but Mostin had briefly considered "_binding_ the archdevil and forcing him to relinquish" her soul, rather than trying to purchase it. As if Mostin could meet his price, anyway, whatever it might be.

By the way, I just finished re-reading the whole shebang yesterday and, as always, I am simply  left in awe!


----------



## Eridanis

By way of bumping: Sep has started a thread to discuss his epic magic rules HERE.


----------



## Starman

Cool. Thanks for the link, Eridanis.


----------



## The Forsaken One

How cool the epic magic thread may be, WTB Update much plix .


----------



## GraysonEN

Is there any updates past the one that ended with..

"N.B.: Contundor got smushed by Nalfeshnees in Afqithan, something which I neglected to mention previously."

?

Imo, Sep's SH is superior to all but Steven Erikson as far as writing skill and enjoyment factor. It's nothing short of gut-wrenching to realize I'm at the end of the SH, and it doesn't just continue on forever like some blissful literary dream.


----------



## Joshua Randall

GraysonEN said:
			
		

> Imo, Sep's SH is superior to all but Steven Erikson as far as writing skill and enjoyment factor.



Heresy!    Sep writes circles around Erikson.



> It's nothing short of gut-wrenching to realize I'm at the end of the SH, and it doesn't just continue on forever like some blissful literary dream.



Now this I wholeheartedly agree with.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Well, just on the chance that Erikson is comparable to Sep, I just went and bought Gardens of the Moon (The Malazan Book of the Fallen, Vol. 1) from Amazon.  Though it looks like I might get left hanging there, too; the projected 10-book series looks only half-finished.


----------



## GraysonEN

Erikson is a fantastic writer. The best advice I can give for a new reader of Erikson - don't try to understand everything on your first read through, especially of the first book. He drops you into the story without a lot of exposition, and there's a *ton* of stuff that you're going to miss on the first few read-throughs 

Erikson and Sep share the ability to craft a believable, in-depth world. Erikson's scope is far vaster though. There are dozens of *main* characters. None of them are safe from death either - they're nobody's PC's after all 

You're looking at around 5500 pages for the first 6 books. Most people I know that own them have read them all at least twice. Every time I re-read the series, I pick up on stuff I missed before. Something'll happen, and then a few thousand pages later you realize why or how, heheh.


----------



## grodog

Hey Sep, are you still out there?  

Any plans to publish yet---fiction or gaming materials?


----------



## Velenne

Jeremy said:
			
		

> Not Divertimento but the more recent one with the thanes and the multiclassed druids and bards.  It may not have been a full fledged story hour but it was fantastic reading in any case and I wanted to go back to it.  I was wondering if anyone had a copy before the boards ate it.
> 
> And...  Yay!  Update.  I love the new bad guys, very impressive, and the length to which the good guys are going to prepare makes them even more so.
> 
> Sweetness.




I havn't ever heard of this.  Anyone know where I can find it?


----------



## grodog

A holiday surprise from Sep, perhaps?


----------



## Bloodcookie

This story truly is the cliff-hanger to end them all. There are just so many unanswered questions, like...

Will Mostin grow weary of arcane politics, and turn his staggering intellect to playing the stock market?

Will Eadric's long-lost cambion love child show up to mooch off of him?

Will Ortwine's next incarnation render her something akin to Tinkerbell?

I just gots ta know!


----------



## Pants

Joshua Randall said:
			
		

> Heresy!    Sep writes circles around Erikson.



Indeed. Not to get off topic, but Erikson has a fantastic flair for epic stuff, but his writing just isn't up to par. Sep rocks him out. 

Actually, of all the author's I've read, Sep reminds me of R. Scott Bakker the most... in terms of writing style. I think.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*The Letter*


_They are not nameless,_ Eadric thought, although the fact provided no measure of comfort to him.

He had requested that Tahl divine the information; a direct communion with the Source would reveal their purpose and number. There were ancient names amongst them, to which rumours in only the earliest of temple chronicles alluded. Tahl issued a _sending_ to Mostin.

Unsurprisingly, the Alienist knew of their identities, and the myths associated with them. Orolde _teleported_ to see Eadric in Morne; the _Ahma_ was in temporary residence in the Temple compound, and it was uncharacteristically quiet: many of the devoted had taken up arms again, and accompanied the _Sela_ to Wyre's Southern march.

Orolde appeared bearing a scroll: he was nervous, his head twitching and his eyes flickering restlessly, as though every shadow might prove a lurking place for the Enforcer or one of her agents. The sprite was sure that he was trespassing in an area of dubious legality regarding the Injunction, and Eadric smiled benignly, in a vain effort to assauge Orolde's paranoia. The fey quickly handed the letter over, _teleported_ back to Mostin's manse, and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that all of his faculties remained to him.

Eadric immediately broke the seal, and read the letter. Mostin had adopted an elegant script: evidently, the Alienist had been experimenting with a new calligraphic style.


_To the _Ahma_ in Morne, greetings:

The names with which you have furnished me are a source of some concern. I have arranged them in what I deem the most likely order of precedence, although I should make it clear that my information is likely outmoded: note, then, a certain amount of conjecture follows.

*Temenun* is a demonic spirit of primeval strain, native to the jungles of Utter Shuth. His form is feline. He was master of a wide dominion before the Sleeping Gods withdrew from the World of Men; a reign of sacrifice and terror, the memory of which still endures in the occult lore of nomadic wise-women. Wyre was still beneath two hundred feet of ice when Temenun was deposed and – purportedly – slain. I suspect Temenun may, in fact, have been subject to some form of _imprisonment_ – only to have been recently freed (the same may be true of others amongst the Cheshnite sect). Temenun's prophetic ability is said to be unrivalled. 

*Yeshe the Binder* is at least five thousand years old; she is mentioned in cryptograms from the era of Shuth's First Empire, preserved in Siir Traag. Twenty-one centuries ago, Yeshe conjured Pazuzu at Khu and unleashed the demon upon the desert kingdom of Durjan, destroying it. Fifty years later, she razed the port of Triptah through the depredations of a demon named Narake – possibly a Chthonic. In times past, she built massive edifices – sites of profane power – the wrecks of which still litter the ancient erg. Her bloodline – or those who boast descent from her – still exercise power in Shuth. It is of note that both Kothchori and Feezuu were scions of her house, or at least made claim to be. The source of her immortality is unknown, but she lacks the pretensions typical of divinity, and has no cult.

*Idyam* exists now in mostly unmanifest form; his consciousness was transferred to his remains, which were preserved in the Temple of Tejobih – a somnolent Power who absented himself even before the rest of Shuth's gods entered hibernation. Idyam was held to have ascended to godhood, although his contempt for those who supplicated him was well-known. Idyam is no deity, I suggest, but a demilich. This may prove the worse for us.

*Sibud* is a vampire – a progenitor from outside the World of Man; an abomination, birthed in some other cycle of being – he arrived in Shuth two millennia ago. His countless spawn have infested the deep desert for centuries, and have visited ruin upon many tribes. Sibud's mastery of the necromantic arts was once usurpassed, and his bloodlust insatiable: his downfall is recorded in a document known as the _Kash-haya_ (Shomei possessed a copy; if you wish to inspect her library, I can arrange it). His command of ritual magic was legendary; for a while, Urm-Nahat was his apprentice. Together they devised a spell known as the _storm of blood_, which slew the armies of a rival warlord, Kumaari. 
It is highly likely that Sibud can still convoke a respectable assembly of spellcasters; we can hope that he has not yet fully returned to his former power. If he can manifest his _storm of blood_, then we may be in trouble: I would advise against deploying any temple troops _en masse_ until we find out – a fragment recounts that 'sixty thousand warriors of renown perished' when it was last invoked. 

*Jahi* is a demigoddess, who appears as a marasmic child. Little is known of her, save her _sparktheft_ – she is credited with stealing the divinity from a number of minor godlings in order to swell her own potency; some accounts refer to her as Jeshi's half-sister, who, unlike her sibling, 'suckled at Cheshne's teat'. The lack of other information is worrying; I advise _utmost caution_ in any dealings with this entity. Although such advice is hardly necessary.

*Naatha* is a succubus of bestial mien, kin to Chaya and Chepez (but not Nathi). Ironically, she is likely to be one of our most direct antagonists. Naatha was once an _Ugra_ – a fierce protector – but she misliked any form of contractual obligation, preferring to bind rather than be bound. What else I can write on the subject of succubi which is not already known to you?

*Dhatri* was once human – she appears now in the form of a bloated mass of undead flesh. She is gluttonous, and rumoured to savour the corpses of those she has slain. Her title translates as 'nurse' or 'midwife' – it is safe to assume that her nurturing urge is not directed toward the living. She has mastery over ghouls, ghasts, and other necrophages. She is venerated by several death-cults in Analah in southern Shuth.

*Prahar* is a great warrior, an Ur-Priest, and a undead psychotic. He ruled in Danhaan before his elevation by Orcus to the stewardship of another world – a lush plane known as Veddekeh. After several centuries as the incumbent despot – a dark age overwhelmed Veddekeh, if accounts are correct – Prahar rebelled against Orcus and shrugged off his yoke. This part is important:

*Prahar bound Orcus with a spell, and forced the Prince to meet his demands.*

This is no small accomplishment. Knowledge of this event is obscure – Orcus made a great effort to eliminate any witnesses and records after his quick release. I believe Orcus made an immediate, absolute concession to Prahar's demands – whatever they were. Veddekeh became unreachable thereafter, and it's reasonable to assume the events are connected. 

*Rishih* is a Theurge and a Thaumaturge. He specializes in compacting middle-ranking demonic nobility – powerful mariliths and balors, and lords such as Ahazu and Munkir have submitted to him in the past.

*Guho* Is an aberrant, festering heap of corruption – even by my liberal standards. She is a _ worm that walks_. This is such a _grubby_ method of transcendence. She was a Blood-Mage of high credentials before seizing her immortality – I'm sure she's considerably more dangerous after a thousand years. 

*Choach* – favoured by the dark gods – embraced unlife some eight centuries ago. He might be considered the 'junior member' of the sect's leadership, although doubtless none amongst Wyre's wizards – excepting possibly myself – can rival his power. Choach was renowned for his unbridled sadism, his perverse sense of humour, and, like Feezuu – according to the literature upon the subject – a preference for acid evocations. 


These are the eleven leaders, according to Tahl's information. All equal or exceed me in their command of magic. Teppu may be more powerful than any of them, or he may not – the sprite's potency is hard to gauge, and focussed in a narrow area.  His exact agenda is not known in any case, so he cannot be considered a reliable ally.

If my calculations are correct, a spell synergy by these eleven alone – not including the cabals and priesthood – could achieve a result in the region of the three-thousandth order. I appreciate that this number means little to you, but it might help if I tell you that the _wave of hate_ – from which Morne will likely never recover – was approximately a two-hundredth order effect. 

I will expect you in two days.

Mostin._


*


The four of them – Eadric, Ortwine, Mostin and Nwm – finally met at the Alienist's retreat. Orolde had absented himself. Sho languished on the porch in a manner which made Eadric feel uncomfortable: some of her mannerisms were uncannily similar to her maker's.

Mostin immediately grabbed Nwm's arm, and drew him aside. The Alienist whispered in an agitated manner.

"So what exactly do you _know_ about Hlioth. Is she safe? What's her agenda? Did she say anything about releasing Graz'zt after Fillein bound him?"

Nwm groaned. "I know as much about her as you do, Mostin. She does what she does. At present, she is an ally. I don't know if that relationship will persist. And no, she made no comment regarding Graz'zt – although I am sympathetic to her action. It must have been a hard choice, but Fillein's behaviour was arrogant in the extreme."

"What have they been _doing_? Her and Teppu and Nehael? And you? What have _you_ been doing?"

"It would take too long to explain," Nwm sighed.

"Then _summarize_," Mostin hissed. 

"I making _gates_," Nwm smiled. "Teppu mysterious. Mesikammi rousing earth spirits. Hlioth weaving powerful magic in Nizkur. Nehael facilitates. Understand?"

Mostin twitched. "What magic?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Nwm confessed. "I suspect nothing too controversial. Hlioth is bound – at least in part – by the Injunction."

"Actually, Nizkur is beyond the Wyrish border – as far as the Claviger is concerned, at any rate. Besides, everything that Hlioth does is controversial. Tell me of the _gates_."

"I have opened a number of _tree portals_," Nwm nodded. "Connecting Afqithan, Sisperi, Nizkur, Groba, the receding Tunthi realm of spirit, the Shrine of Three Storrs in Ialde, Deorham, and several discrete regions of Faerie. They pass through the primordial Tree-_ludja_."

"You _have_ been busy," Mostin remarked drily. He raised his eyebrows. "From _Deorham_ to Sisperi? You don't seem afraid of stepping on your friends' toes. Aren't you concerned about unwanted traffic?"

"Any traffic is good. That is the purpose. To enable the movement of energy within the matrix of the Interwoven Green."

"Your concepts are curiously archaic." Mostin observed. "I predict that your _gates_ will become bottlenecks. Petty lords will try to control them."

"These are _feys_ and nature spirits we're talking about," Nwm sighed. "Not demons – or men for that matter. You can't ascribe such emotions as _desire to rule_ to most of them."

"To most of them, maybe not. But to enough of them to cause a problem, I say _yes_. Ten thousand gold says that you have an incident within a month. Where something, maybe a _wicked greedy fey_ – such things exist, you know – tries to take strategic control of one of your _gates_. It's a resource. Trust me."

"I have no money, Mostin. Alas, I cannot meet your wager."

"I'll take a _reincarnation_ on credit."

Nwm laughed. "Really? I would think you already have some unspeakable contingency."

"That was my big plan," Mostin nodded. He sighed. "Unfortunately, it never seems to get any closer. I also had the notion to spellwarp myself. And bind Graz'zt. And locate the _web of motes_. And to evolve the consciousnesses of the _simulacra_. Frankly, there is too much to do, and too little time. I'm bogged down."

"If you were to look to a more natural solution to the _simulacra_, I might help…"

"Shomei directed me to her pseudoanalogues."

"For what? You think you can attempt some kind of _synthesis_? Why? Do you really want two pseudo-Shomeis running loose? Besides, you would need the most powerful cabal ever assembled in Wyre. You do not command that kind of respect – consider your efforts to gather even a half-dozen mages to aid you: they aren't interested in your desire to capture the Demon, and ascribe your idea to megalomania. Although I hardly blame them. Can you even honestly say that it's relevant to the current situation?"

Mostin stared hard at Nwm. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's mostly so that I can gloat. What do you suggest with regard to the _simulacra_?"

"A natural solution, naturally. Or Dream-vestiges. Shomei has echoes in other places. "

"I am no Dreamer," Mostin sniffed dismissively.

"Nor am I," Nwm smiled. "You would have to _learn_. Is that so abhorrent to you? Ask Teppu. He might advise you."

"And he might not," Mostin scowled. 

Nwm sighed. "Whatever they become, the _simulacra_ will _not be Shomei_, Mostin."

"I know that," Mostin snapped. "This is no adolescent fixation, Nwm. I am merely trying to find a solution within the terms Shomei asserted."

"Did she specify a pseudonatural synthesis?"

"Not exactly," Mostin said. "Or at least, I don't think so."

"What precisely _did_ she say?"

"'Begin with the premise that all creatures have multiple pseudonatural analogues.'"

Nwm laughed loudly, causing Ortwine – who stood nearby in conversation with Eadric – to glare at him.

Mostin seemed mildly offended. "I fail to see what is funny."

"What other premise would Mostin the Metagnostic bring to bear upon any problem?" 

"You may have a point," the Alienist shrugged. "But she said that it would be my _magnum opus_. I can't see what other direction it could take."

"Just reify them with a _wish_, and let them develop in whichever direction _they_ choose to go, Mostin. Surely she would have wanted that? To have you _determine_ their course of unfolding would surely be antithetical to everything she believed. Besides, Shomei never exhibited any particular aptitude in the prescient arts – what makes you think that she possessed any special insight into the subsequent evolution of her _simulacra_?"

"The _web of motes_, you dummy. She saw it in the _web of motes_."

"You are overanalyzing an off-hand comment made by someone you cared about and affording it too much significance," Nwm sighed.

"Shomei _never_ made off-hand comments."

"And you are idealizing her in your memory," Nwm continued relentlessly. "She was no less fallible than you or I. Goddess, Mostin. How old was she? Twenty-five? How much wisdom and experience can one of her age really have acquired?"

"More than most," Mostin snapped, his nostrils flaring. "And more than I, certainly. I was still chasing sylphs when I was twenty-five, and Vhorzhe had only recently apprenticed me. Shomei was summoning glooms and compacting with Belial. We are talking orders of magnitude here, Nwm."

"Fine. Have it your way. But you can't break Hell open, Mostin. If you meet her again, she will likely be your enemy: I assume Eadric spoke to you of Titivilus's veiled threats? That Astaroth could offer her some kind of deal?"

"Titivilus was full of sh*t," Mostin snorted. "And if Ed hadn't killed him, I think I probably would have by now. I've had it with fiends. They're too much work to keep in line. I've gone Enochian – for a while, at least."

"Celestials are no better," Nwm grumbled.

"Agreed," Mostin smiled. "But they're cheaper. The Host cut me a special deal, based on my connections."


*


"Aid me in this," Ortwine pleaded. "I need you."

"There are other matters, far more pressing." Eadric was unyielding.

She seized him by his pauldrons, pushed him backwards, and stared him in the face. Eadric noticed that she was as tall as he was.

"I'm coming out of this a _goddess_, Eadric. I can bring a _lot_ of weight to bear on a situation if that happens. In the idiom of my former self: when I get my newly divine ass on the battlefield and I've got a _vorpal_ sword in my hand, who's gonna try it on, eh? Right – _no-one_."

"Gods are plentiful, these days." Eadric smiled.

"True. And they're not all on your side," Ortwine retorted. "_I_ will be. If you help me. You know it makes sense." She flashed a smile.

"I think not," the _Ahma_ sighed. "Your apotheosis is not my first concern. Did you just use a _suggestion_ on me?"

"Certainly not. The defense of Wyre and the Temple is a complex strategy, Eadric," Ortwine changed tack. "Consider your moves carefully. At least hear me out."

"Go on," he grumbled. "Try to be quick."

"I have to convince an insane death-goddess to relinquish a million or so souls so that life can begin again in Sisperi. As lunatic an enterprise as this might sound, I think I have a good chance of doing it. If I can get to her. That's where you come in."

"I have no desire to fight my way through some pagan underworld at present."

"Gaining entrance will be the tricky part. The entrance – Saivo – is a double-bottomed lake. It's…upside-down on the other side…for want of a better description."

"I assume it's guarded?"

"Naturally."

"A dragon? A huge dog?"

"No," Ortwine said brightly. "Neither of those. Demons left by Graz'zt, in fact. If you recall, Saes was allied with him for some time. His minions have…gone native…if you catch my meaning."

"I'm not sure that I do."

"Saes has changed them."

"How do you mean, _changed_?"

"Augmented. Infused."

"With what?"

"Well, with _death_ of course. That is her portfolio, after all."

"Which means what, exactly?"

"The details are hazy," Ortwine admitted. "After we pass the vestibule, we enter Ruk proper. If the reports are correct."

"_If._" The _Ahma_ said acidly. "Whose reports are these, Ortwine?"

"You know. Rumours. Speculation."

Eadric looked exasperated. "Is there any concrete information?"

"No."

"Why do you think that is, Ortwine? Perhaps because nobody has ever returned from this underworld alive?"

"That is the consensus amongst the Nireem. I plan to be the first, however."

"Let's assume that you get to Saes," Eadric sighed, "but your powers of persuasion fail to move her: I would deem this likely, if she is insane. What then? Do you plan to kill her?"

"I would prefer not to. Admittedly, she is a minor goddess in the grand scheme of things, but her role in the natural balance of Sisperi must be respected. Eadric we are talking about _returning life to a world raped by Graz'zt_. However selfish my interest is, yours should not be. Remember your vow to Rhul…"

"Aye," the _Ahma_ glowered. "I remember it, and it is discharged. Uort is slain; the babau purged from Soan. I cannot leave Wyre at present."

"Rhul and Lai won't ask you. I am less reticent, however. In a month or so, when my weapon is complete. A queen begs you, Eadric. Forty-eight hours: that's all I ask of you."

"You are optimistic."

"I am motivated."

"If anything happens in my absence; if I get stuck there: by Oronthon I will make you pay, Ortwine."

Ortwine bowed her head. "I will take your oath as testament to your seriousness."

"I will consider the terms of service which I would require from you in return," Eadric gazed stonily at her.

Ortwine stepped back. "I am no man's vassal."

"You will do what is necessary, Ortwine. Like you said, you need me."

"I can shower you with gifts. Would you care for some gnomes?

"I do not want your _slaves_."

"They adore me!"

"Service in kind, Ortwine."


*


"Mostin mentioned the enemy using _big spells_," Eadric looked at Nwm. "He seemed reluctant to expand on the topic – other than make mention of an invocation known as the _storm of blood_, which seems worrying enough. And numbers which seemed distressingly large, if somewhat unfathomable."

"He was probably sparing you the stress that would ensue."

"You think he has an idea of what might be involved?"

"I'm sure he does. Or has at least speculated. I have. The names that Tahl divined, Eadric – suffice to say that Mostin is more concerned than I have seen him before."

"And you are not?"

"The names themselves mean little to me," Nwm shrugged. "But the fact that it has Mostin worried has _me_ worried. 'Eleven transvalent casters,' he keeps mumbling."

"And what do _you_ think they can do?"

"If they can bring a large group of spellcasters to bear in invoking a single spell, I'd say pretty much anything. They could waste a few hundred square miles with a single dweomer."

"Is that likely?"

"I don't know," Nwm admitted. "I'm hoping that enough distrust exists amongst the leadership that they wouldn't be willing to pool their resources thus."

"I think their unity of purpose is apparent," Eadric sighed.

"And it's only 'apparent.' We, in fact, know nothing of their purpose."

"It is malign," Eadric grunted. "Let me rephrase. What would _you_ do if you were assaulting Wyre."

"Why is their pupose to assault Wyre?"

"Perhaps some kind of divine edict?"

"Let me posit another theory," Nwm grimaced. "What has arisen in Shuth, and subsequently established itself in the Thalassine, has done so in direct response to the principle of Annihilation being invoked in the World of Men. By the _Ahma_. In other words, your _sin_ caused this. Understand that I am framing this concept within terms familiar to you: I do not personally subscribe to the notion of _sin_."

"Are you serious?"

"Why have you not fallen? Because you are the _Ahma_. The rules are different for you. But what you do – how you _act_ – this is reflected in the world around you."

"That's something of a stretch," Eadric was dubious.

"I would think that it was manifestly true, from a certain point of view: such truth is the cause of your veneration by thousands of people. I am not the first to take this perspective."

Eadric raised an eyebrow.

Nwm smiled, and assumed a voice of mock piety. "'The _Ahma_ has invoked the apocalypse. He has fornicated with demons, and betrayed us.'"

"They're saying that?"

"Some of them," Nwm nodded.

"I am the Breath of God, not the body of the world. It sounds like misunderstood Irrenite dogma."

"Even your flaws are perfect, Eadric. You need not worry." 

"What an odd thing to say."

"Perhaps _God can breathe darkness_ would suit better."

"That is brutal, Nwm."

"Are you the chief agent of the Adversary, Eadric?"

"Perhaps," the _Ahma_ slowly exhaled. "The thought had occurred to me."


**


At midnight, Eadric received a _sending_ from Tahl. He looked nervously at Mostin.

"What now?" The Alienist sighed.

"I will be invested as Earl Marshal by King Tiuhan tomorrow. All of the Small Council have ratified it. It will consolidate the Temple battalions and secular armies under my leadership. I fought a war in pursuit of disestablishment, and what do they do?"

"Can you refuse?" Nwm asked.

"No," Eadric said simply. "Nor would I, if I could. At least I won't step on any toes this way – Tahl intimated that I might have to take command at some point otherwise. I imagine that he leaned on Tagur."

"It's just a formality, then?"

"Right." The _Ahma_ seemed unconvinced.

"Believe it," Mostin scoffed. "Ten thousand knights will do you about as much good as ten thousand monkeys with sticks at present."

"Every little helps," Nwm stroked his beard. "And don't knock the monkeys."

Eadric's face went blank as another _sending_ reached him.

"What now?" Mostin sighed.

The _Ahma_ was unsure whether to laugh. 

"It was from Tahl: _Sela informs Mostin that Mulissu has reincarnated._"

"Is she _Green_?" Mostin looked horrified at the prospect.

Eadric shrugged.

Mostin fussed, and drew his _robe of eyes_ about himself. Lids opened, and orbs rotated in woven sockets in a disconcerting manner. Mogus emerged briefly from a _dimensional pocket_.

"You still have that thing, then," Ortwine's expression was one of mild distaste.

Mostin ignored her, and unrolled a scroll.

"Mostin?" Eadric asked nervously.

Potent syllables rolled from the Alienist's lips.  A _gate_ opened. Madness flowed from it.

"I am journeying to the middle region of _Uzzhin_ and beyond," Mostin announced. "to confer with the entity _Ghom_. If any of you wish to accompany me, you may; it might entail certain risks, for the…"

"Sane?" Ortwine offered. "No, thank-you."

Mostin stepped through the _gate_, and reappeared a split second later.

"Were you gone long?" Ortwine inquired. "I see you have a new hat."

But the length and colour of Mostin's beard – which seemed strangely animated – and the appendage which issued from his _robe of eyes_ in place of an arm, testified to the duration of his stay Outside.

"Longer than I expected," he nodded.

"What did you uncover?" Eadric asked with trepidation.

"Many things," the Alienist evinced a sage madness. "Including the location of the _web of motes_ – and Iua. We have to go immediately. There is no choice, and no time for preparation. Do you understand?"

"Mostin…" Eadric began.

Mostin opened another _gate_. "Follow me," he said, stepping through.

"But I want my _vorpal_ sword," Ortwine complained.


----------



## grodog

Woohoo!  OK, now I can't go to sleep yet 

Thanks Sep, and have a wonderful holiday!


----------



## Baron Opal

Rock. On.

Edit: (And, may I say, _*DAMN!*_. I was sure I was the first to post.)


----------



## humble minion

...and a happy Christmas to me, Sep posts again!

The priesthood of Cheshne actually sound _more_ daunting than Graz'zt, come to think of it.  All the power, and none of the limitations - and they can be at 11 places at once.  Scary stuff.  Temenun is presumably some sort of rakshasa, and Dhatri a famine spirit or variant ghoul?  

And once again, the PCs have too much to do and too little time to do it in.  Mulissu, Iua and the Web of Motes, the embassy to the priesthood of Cheshne, Eadric's investiture, Ortwine's sword...

Thanks for posting.  These are always a highlight of my day.

*munches popcorn*


----------



## GraysonEN

Heh, don't bother to try to beat grodog - just ask anyone from the Acaeum, heheh. Thanks for posting it to the Yahoo group grodog, it got me an email notification, which got me here, woot)

Sep, I couldn't have asked for a nicer gift from the internet than a continuance of Wyre. Well, except for a larger update. But hey, I'll take what I can get.


----------



## Bloodcookie

Ahhh... the more things change, the more things stay _awesome_. Sep, you're still the Champ


----------



## Mytholder

I saw there was an update notice on the mailing list. I clicked, thinking 'it's been months since I read any of the Wyre stuff. I'll have forgotten everything, it'll be boring, and I've better things to do than read a half-page of wierd ramblings.'

What a fool I was. Better than ever, Sep, better than ever. More!


----------



## Rackhir

Yea! An update! This is the best christmas ever!


----------



## Nifft

Nice. Thanks! -- N


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## pogre

Great update! Thanks for taking the time to write and post this.


----------



## grodog

GraysonEN said:
			
		

> Heh, don't bother to try to beat grodog - just ask anyone from the Acaeum, heheh.




Hey now, it's not like I'm Brian or anything   



			
				GraysonEN said:
			
		

> Thanks for posting it to the Yahoo group grodog, it got me an email notification, which got me here, woot)




You're quite welcome:  as the owner of the mailing list, I figured it was my sacred duty to let folks know about the update.  Nick asked there if I would post the update there, so perhaps I'll get around to updating the .doc archives for offline-readers later over the holidays....


----------



## howandwhy99

Hey, hey!  Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!


----------



## jjylf

*Christmas.*

Ah..
This is like drugs.
So addictive.
Must...
Read...
More...

Maybe the biggest cliffhanger as of yet.


----------



## shilsen

Heheheheheh!


----------



## Moleculo

Merry Christmas indeed! 

Great post Sep, and I am looking forward to more! (can you tell I got a box of exclaimation points for Christmas!?)


----------



## sithramir

*Amazing*

Simply fantastic. Two gauntlets (and a tentacle) up! 

Definitely made christmas day amazing.


----------



## Jackylhunter

Wow, simply wow.  Nice to hear from you again, Sep.  Keep the posts coming.


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## Zelda Themelin

Thank you.
This made wonderful christmas present for me.


----------



## Quartz

An update! Bliss!


----------



## Joshua Randall

Keeping in mind that this is the recounting of an actual game with actual players, I'm wondering how this worked out at the gaming table.

We've got four players with four epic-level characters, each with his own agenda. Space (and to a lesser extent, time) is not a contraint -- they can pretty much go anywhere they want.

How did the players work out whose plot-line gets advanced at any particular session? Is there some kind of round-robin order? Or whomever yells the loudest? Or roll a d20 and see who wins?


----------



## The Forsaken One

OW

MY

GOD

UPDATE

*gets drinks, food and puts good music on*

God the day I've been waiting for has arrived. Thanks for this X-mas present Sep! 

Btw where did the epic magic thread go from you and Cheiro?

Hope you had a great Christmas!


----------



## The Forsaken One

Damn Sep! Can't wait for the resolving around Ortwines divinity and the mulissu/iua plot!

I always loved Mulissu .

Hooked again! Awsome


----------



## Felix

*SepulchraveII*

Ascended Demigod

Portfolios:
Plot Weaving
Cliffhanging
Arraying of Kick-ass bad guys against the PCs

Dogma
Prayers are given in mantra form, most often vocalized as, "BUMP".

----------

Seriously man, quit your day job.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Given his oft-voiced concerns, Cheiromancer will appreciate the irony of two particular spells. The double-whammy of Mostin casting a _disjunction_ and Eadric speaking a _holy word_ would become a staple opening gambit in combat. Nwm preferred spontaneous epic [death] effects, or to _shapechange_ into a dragon or phoenix. 


*


_Mostin's_ Moment in Time_ was devised by the Alienist during his tutelage under the entity _Ghom_, who dwells beyond the middle-region. 

Its premise is simple – to look _inside_ when one is _Outside_ is to observe the bounded cosmos transfixed in time, as though one were under the effect of a _time stop_. Or it _can_ be, which is all that matters for the type of magic that Mostin practices.

In any event, imagine, for a moment, that you are Outside. You turn your consciousness inside to observe the Moment, while you perceive time passing normally for you – or as normally as it does when one is Outside.

Your target – Surab-Iua – is warded by a _mind blank_, the _web of motes_ is undetectable by any magic, and the only other name with which you have been furnished by your _metagnostic inquiry_ – a daemon named _Tholhaluk_ – is likewise impenetrable to your divination.

But you have your Moment. You use a _limited wish_ to _commune_ with pseudodeities of terrible knowledge, and invoke _visions_. You determine the location of Tholhaluk's stronghold, and discover that he has severed his link with the Demon Graz'zt. The fact that Tholhaluk's chief henchman is the arcanadaemon _Xufu_ is also revealed to you. You learn of the _garden of mind_ – a magical locus which is controlled by Tholhaluk.

You _scry_ Xufu and are delighted to find that your spell penetrates his ward. Moreover, he is in an audience chamber, kneeling before an empty throne – whoever sits upon it is doubtless _mind blanked_, and hence cannot be perceived by you. Daemonic mercenaries throng about. You inspect their gazes, and the hidden messages which lie behind them: with your insight you infer the location of another presence in the room, also invisible to your spell.

With successive divinations, you determine the protections which ward the chamber, and the areas which abut it. A hundred feet below, you locate an abandoned cyst once home to a pack of barghests. It is outside of the _dimensional lock_.

You meditate, and gather your strength. Once you are _inside_ again, you must act quickly. Your _Moment_ will have passed._


- Orolde's _Third Temporal Treatise_.


**


That they were in some kind of Hell was immediately apparent.

The evil was palpable, seeping from the floors and walls of a hewn chamber. Distant screams from damned souls echoed disturbingly. The air seemed ruddy.

The _Ahma_ invoked a _holy aura_, and _Lukarn_ kindled. As he watched Mostin mumble spells, Eadric was aghast at the transformation that the Alienist had undergone.

"I understand your awe at my beauty," Mostin said earnestly. His visage resumed its more familiar cast, and his organ became a hand. "I will spare you the spiritual conflict that it must evoke in you."

"Indeed," Eadric agreed diplomatically.

Mostin scowled sharply, and pointed. 'What is _she_ doing here?"

Sho stood behind Nwm. She had followed him through the _gate_.

"I am here for my edification," Sho remarked calmly.

"You are a blank slate, begging to be possessed," Mostin was agitated. "There is no time for this nonsense. Return at once."

"Can you not…?"

Eadric warded her.

The Alienist scowled again. "Listen carefully. We are about to assault a jackal-daemon, an arcanaloth  named _Tholhaluk_. He is a powerful sorcerer; currently we are below his throne-room, which is _dimensionally locked_. We must kill or drive off the fiend as quickly as possible – he has yagnodaemon guards, but they should prove reasonably easy to overcome. Iua will be there: her weapon is inhabited by the demon Surab, and she is quite mad. Try not to kill her. Notice the direction in which I face: the daemon will be fifty feet, dead ahead, when we gain the chamber. When I _scried_, there was a gap between two yagnoloths…"

Ortwine sighed. It would be her – she was the fastest.

"How did you…" Nwm began.

"There is no time," Mostin opened a _passwall_ directly above their heads. Then three more, each delving a shaft deeper and higher into the rock above them. The Alienist bestowed the power of flight upon them all.

They ascended the shaft swiftly, and Mostin removed their last obstacle – the three feet of magically reinforced adamantine which was the floor of Tholhaluk's sanctum – with a quickened _disintegrate_. A lurid, red-green light immediately illuminated the shaft, vying with Lukarn's brilliance. 

Mostin, followed by Eadric, Nwm and Sho, shot upwards into the centre of a tall chamber wherein hundreds of fiends were gathered. The Alienist unleashed a _disjunction_ immediately. Space buckled as Eadric spoke a _holy word_: a swathe of grossly misshapen daemons burned away in a wide circle, instantly turned to ash by his power. Nwm invoked a spell: great metallic barbs, like spiked lances, erupted from the floor, impaling dozens.

Fiends fled away from them in every direction.

Eadric glanced toward where Mostin's _disjunction_ had fallen: the _Eye of Palamabron_ revealed an unweaving cloth of impossible colours, which rapidly evaporated into nothingness.

Ortwine's _invisible_ form flashed through the demagicked area at breakneck speed towards a group of daemons who were gathered on a low dais. The _Ahma_ observed that the Sidhe bore the scimitar won from the succubus Cemdrei in Afqithan, and hoped it would prove equal to the task. Iua also stood there.

Her reactions were undiminished.

Even as Ortwine's scimitar found its mark, Iua had leapt the distance between them and was about her in a fury, stabbing with uncanny speed.

Ortwine glanced toward Iua and caught her eye for a split second, _hypnotizing_ her.

"Tholhaluk presents far more of a threat to you than I," Ortwine spoke quite reasonably as she proceeded to tear into Tholhaluk with her scimitar, slashing wildly; the daemon smote her with a _destruction_ but it seemed to slide off of her. She deftly avoided the blows of two yagnodaemons as they struck the floor with their _tol kendars_, sending sparks flying into the air.

Tholhaluk disappeared in an instant.

Surab abandoned Iua's rapier and likewise vanished. But Iua's assault on Ortwine was just as determined.

She froze, as Mostin _dominated_ her. The Alienist gestured again, opening another _gate_.

"Why the _disjunction_?" Eadric inquired.

"I know he's got one," Mostin replied. "I had to get mine in first. Quick. Before they return."


**


_I have the web of motes_ Mostin's head span. He sat in a comfortable chair in his study, fondling it with his pseudopod.

"Are you keeping it?" Eadric asked pointedly, trying not to look too closely at the Alienist's appendage. "Is Mulissu still its steward? What is the protocol?"

"Finders keepers," Mostin cackled. He sighed. "Oh, I don't know. I must first confer with Mulissu: she has returned as a fey. Teppu persuaded her. Although I suspect that she is less _Green_ than Teppu would have liked: that, at least, should be some comfort."

Nwm guffawed. "Are you serious?"

"How delicious," Ortwine smiled. "One point to the _Viridity_, I say. You'd better get _resurrecting_, Eadric or you'll lose the race. Are you edified, Sho?"

The _simulacrum_ stared at her, and then looked at Mostin. "Nwm informs me that you plan to combine me with a pseudonatural analogue of my maker. Is this correct?"

"Yes," Mostin nodded, glaring briefly at Nwm. "It is your destiny. Shomei predicted it."

"She may have," Nwm interrupted. "And she may not have. It's all a matter of interpretation."

"Don't start trying to seduce my students with your _green-ness_," Mostin barked. He turned again to Sho. "Nwm thinks I should reify you with a _wish_. Would you wish for such a mundane noogenesis? One should start on the highest available rung of the ladder of consciousness."

"I have no preference in this regard," Sho admitted. 

"And therein lies the dilemma," Nwm sighed. "How can one best determine the mode of one's being when one is not empowered with an existential appreciation of the choice?"

"Do not let Nwm mislead you into thinking he is any saner than Mostin," Ortwine poured herself a glass of _kschiff_, sniffed it, and placed it on the table with a look of distaste. "Although I would still recommend against Mostin's preferred course of action: if you possessed an ethical locus, you would feel the same way."

Sho stood uncertainly, and looked at Eadric. "You are the _Ahma_ – and are thus bound up in Shomei's world-view. What is your advice?"

"You lack the capacity for reflective thought," Eadric smiled sadly. "I'm not sure I have a position."

"I can _awaken_ you," Nwm said. "What's more, I can do it _now_. It will contextualize your perception."

"You will be choosing an inferior state of being," Mostin was rapidly becoming agitated.

"When will this pseudosynthesis be possible?" She asked Mostin.

"It is some time distant," the Alienist admitted. "It has not been foremost in my thoughts."

"I am at a higher risk of annihilation as a _simulacrum_."

Mostin nodded dumbly. He knew what was coming next.

Sho spoke clearly. "I invoke both governing axioms, _preserve thyself_ and _transcend thyself_, and choose Nwm's _awakening_ as the best way to satisfy both. Is my logic flawed?"

"No," Mostin sighed. "But let me say this: what I have to offer, you will fear when your consciousness is so confined. A limitless ocean of possibility will appear beyond your ken, and you will be repelled by it. If you assume such a mundane state, try to recall the fact that at this moment you feel no abhorrence and no trepidation. Your natural aptitude will be for conjuration – much as your maker. I will teach you the secret method, if you are so inclined."

"And what of Mei?" Eadric asked.

"She can make her own choice," Nwm rose up. "Come. Don't be disturbed at the sight of my skin boiling away – I recover quickly."


*


When they returned, an hour later, Sho was silent. Mostin looked long at her.

"Is this the weight of being?" She asked.

"Yes," Mostin said enthusiastically. "You must strive to overcome it! Destroy yourself a hundred million times."

"And then?"

"The gods will fear you."

"This philosophy sits well with me."

"It should. I suspect you are rather predisposed to appreciate it. But you should contemplate your paradigm carefully."

"Unnecessary. I choose Goetia as my vehicle," Sho announced.

Nwm groaned. Eadric hung his head. Mostin sighed.

"You are choosing a lesser infinity," Mostin had a pained expression.

"I find your theories untenable," Sho replied.

The Alienist sat back, and pondered briefly. "Very well. My summoning room is at your disposal. Use the _mirror_ as much as you need. Any spell in my collection is yours for the transcription. Please refrain from using my scrolls. Study the Injunction carefully, especially article nineteen."

"Thank-you," Sho nodded.

"Where will you start?" Mostin inquired.

"With Erinyes."

"Beware of Dispater! I would choose an unaffiliated duke, away from the main axes of power. Seere counts Erinyes in his train." Mostin silently unclasped the mantle which first Irknaan, and then Nhura, had worn before him, and handed it to Sho. "Consider this an indefinite loan."

Eadric raised an eyebrow. It was a fabulously extravagant gesture.* 

"Mei is still considering her options," Nwm was exhausted. "But she is an impression from a later epoch of Shomei's consciousness, after her _reincarnation_. Her decision may surprise us."


**


The inauguration of the _Ahma_ as Earl Marshal of Wyre was a subdued and informal affair, as Eadric had requested. It was silently ratified by the small council, each magnate witnessing in succession, and approved by the King.

Ortwine and Nwm were present in no specific capacity; Tahl, Rede and Tarpion – a saint and two vengeful spirits – also came in the _Ahma_'s train. Mostin had absented himself to avoid being politically compromised, and had instead travelled with Daunton to open a dialogue with Mulissu.

It came after the first major spells of the conflict had been cast; not the destructive magicks and compacted demons which Eadric had feared and anticipated, but a series of massive enchantments which had fired the uncertain masses of a dozen Thalassine cities into a bellicose fervour. Daunton's spies reported bizarre behaviour among the aristocrats of Jeshat, and a notable increase in anti-Wyrish rhetoric. The diviner ascribed the change to dozens of strategically-placed compulsions, which would prove difficult to locate – much less counteract.  

After the ceremony, Eadric took counsel with Prince Tagur, Attar, and Sihu. Foide left on 'urgent business,' the nature of which, Tahl guessed, involved putting as great a distance between himself and the _Ahma_ as was practical.

"Until the threat has been properly assessed, we will deploy troops in cadres of no more than one hundred," Eadric removed his gauntlets and sank into a carved siege. "Any more is inviting disaster. Twenty knights, plus infantry and outrider support. They will adopt a defensive strategy – there will be no heroic charges.

"Each cell will have a number of Templars attached to it. I have authorized the full use of the scrolls from the vaults below the Temple scriptorium: now I regret that so many were squandered during Trempa's secession. Certain more independently-minded mages have expressed an interest in joining the effort, as long as the conflict remains south of Hrim Eorth and the remit of the Claviger: their contribution should be welcomed.

"Orders will be simple: harass the enemy where possible; stay alive at all costs. Gallant dead knights are no use to me. Adopt a guerilla style of warfare. Strike and flee. Burn baggage trains. Poison enemy wells. Kill them in their sleep. Use whatever means necessary. Keep moving. This is about survival. Make them bleed for every inch they advance. 

"As _Ahma_, I take the moral burden of the atrocities to be committed entirely upon myself. Make it clear that all who join us are absolved of all sin. This is a Holy War: their entry to paradise is assured. Are there any questions?"


*


"Where is she?" The Alienist complained. "And why did you choose this locale?"

Daunton and Mostin stood upon a jagged pylon of rock; the ocean crashed at its base.

"I am here, idiot." Mulissu was aerial, manifesting before them in a blue haze.

"I trust your transmigration was satisfactory?"

"What choice did I have? Teppu was unwavering in the weight of _guilt_ which he applied to me."

"Are you sympathetic to his cause?"

"Oh, broadly, I suppose," Mulissu seemed distracted. "But I am still Mulissu and he is no longer Jovol."

"Hlioth traces the continuity."

"Hlioth is deranged. I bear no comparison with that crone."

"I have secured Iua," Mostin said.

"I know. You suddenly felt it necessary after many months – lest my ire descend upon you, I suppose?

"Quite so. She is currently _dominated_."

"That is a wise precaution," Mulissu nodded. "I would suggest returning her to the Temple of Jeshi, but the Thalassine is rife with unrest. Magathei will be safer."

"To _Ulao_?" Mostin asked. "Is that wise?"

"Perhaps not. But I cannot guard her," 

"There is a demon. Surab…"

"Can you deal with it?" Mulissu asked.

"Regrettably, I cannot," Mostin looked apologetic. "I am under Empyreal contract, and must abstain from Goetic practices for the nonce."

"Must I do everything?" Mulissu scowled.

"I recommend a _finger of death_. He is warded against enchantments, and your evocations won't even tickle him."

"How long is this bizarre Enochian phase likely to last?"

"A few more weeks, at least," Mostin grinned.

"Don't get too comfortable, Mostin. Death has not lessened my anger towards you. And what have you _done_ to yourself?"

"Evolved," Mostin nodded.






*This apparent act of generosity belies the fact that Mostin already had high SR and groovy spell absorption powers. His tenure in Uzzhin (which served as a useful way to advance the plot) had gained him the Pseudonatural (CA) and Spellwarped (MMIII) templates. They brought him up to ECL 30 or so, on par with Ortwine and Eadric.

Nwm was 28th-level, with a revised VOP and two powerful permanent epic wards on him: _dwimmerhame_ (which grants SR 38) and _anathema ward_ which prevents bodily contact with outsiders. 

I should probably update the rogues' gallery at some point


_Sho's Awakening_ looks like this:
Instantaneous DC=0 epic spell. Seed: _animate_ (DC 25), _life_ (DC27), _fortify_ ( DC17); Mitigating: 11-min casting time (-10 DC), 50d6 backlash (-50 DC), burn 900 XP (-9 DC).


----------



## Felix

Holy .

Fanboygasm.


----------



## Zaruthustran

50d6!

Actually, that's not bad. I assume NWM has over 5 per HD and a Con score way above 20 (a +5 bonus). Even if all 50 dice came up 6 he would still be standing.


----------



## Cheiromancer

I think I'm going to commission another piece of art for the SH.  Any suggestions of who or what should be depicted?


----------



## Justin

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> I think I'm going to commission another piece of art for the SH.  Any suggestions of who or what should be depicted?




Teppu and Nehael after her "Green-ification"

Pseudonatural Spellwarped Mostin with Mogus and Orolde

Gihaahia (black outfit and impossibly red hair)
- additionally with the Claviger, both stone tablet and little girl


----------



## shilsen

Woohoo!


----------



## Cheiromancer

The Forsaken One said:
			
		

> Btw where did the epic magic thread go from you and Cheiro?



It got kinda big, so the folks at Dog Soul kindly let us use their forum.  It has spawned a number of other threads: 

Dog Soul Hosted Forum.


----------



## grodog

A second update, excellent!

I'm going to have to go back through the threads, since I think that I postulated something about the Cults of Chesne taking the purification of Khu as a first strike of sorts---they well may be viewing this as a justified, provoked war....


----------



## Fimmtiu

This is the best Christmas ever!


----------



## Felix

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> I think I'm going to commission another piece of art for the SH.  Any suggestions of who or what should be depicted?



Gihaahia and the Claviger.

Mostin transcendant. Again.

Eadric and Sonellion sharing a post-coital cigarette on that desecrated Oronthonian altar.


----------



## pogre

Wow! Thanks *again*!


----------



## GraysonEN

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> I think I'm going to commission another piece of art for the SH.  Any suggestions of who or what should be depicted?




Mostin. Definately mostin 

Another fantastic update, thanks much to Sep and his players


----------



## Quartz

'We are not worthy!'


----------



## humble minion

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> I think I'm going to commission another piece of art for the SH.  Any suggestions of who or what should be depicted?




Nwm's first _She is tired of your interference_ in the courtyard at Deorham.

Eadric cutting down a Duke of Hell in mostin's basement as two others watch on from within thaumatugic circles.

The circle of eleven Cheshne-disciples, performing a ritual.

Ortwine bargaining with the gods over Heedless.

The death of Shomei


----------



## grodog

Art suggestions:

The death (implosion?) of Soneillon, on the Afqithan battlefield.

The purification of Khu by the celestial host.

The magic items:  Lukarn, Githla, the Looking Glass, the Web of Motes, Nwm's staff, etc.


----------



## Brogarn

Every time I read this story hour I'm reminded of how unintelligent I really am. Sep, you're on a level far beyond my capacity to emulate. I'm in awe.


----------



## Bloodcookie

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> "As _Ahma_, I take the moral burden of the atrocities to be committed entirely upon myself. Make it clear that all who join us are absolved of all sin. This is a Holy War: their entry to paradise is assured. Are there any questions?"




Yikes. Eadric's obviously getting his Pope Urban II on


----------



## shilsen

Joshua Randall said:
			
		

> Keeping in mind that this is the recounting of an actual game with actual players, I'm wondering how this worked out at the gaming table.
> 
> We've got four players with four epic-level characters, each with his own agenda. Space (and to a lesser extent, time) is not a contraint -- they can pretty much go anywhere they want.
> 
> How did the players work out whose plot-line gets advanced at any particular session? Is there some kind of round-robin order? Or whomever yells the loudest? Or roll a d20 and see who wins?



 This is something I'm very curious about too.


----------



## Cheiromancer

shilsen said:
			
		

> Joshua Randall said:
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Keeping in mind that this is the recounting of an actual game with actual players, I'm wondering how this worked out at the gaming table.
> 
> We've got four players with four epic-level characters, each with his own agenda. Space (and to a lesser extent, time) is not a contraint -- they can pretty much go anywhere they want.
> 
> How did the players work out whose plot-line gets advanced at any particular session? Is there some kind of round-robin order? Or whomever yells the loudest? Or roll a d20 and see who wins?
> 
> 
> 
> 
> This is something I'm very curious about too.
Click to expand...


I think a lot of the sessions are actually done by email.  Which means that players get as much one-on-one time with the DM as they need.

Oh, and thanks everyone for the suggestions for the subject of the next artwork. I'm thinking of another Mostin portrait; with pseudopod and a truly grotesque Mogus, and maybe Gihaahia and the Claviger.  A scene with multiple figures would be nice, but the cost for artwork is generally per character.

I have sent emails to Storn and Geoff Nelson- hopefully I'll hear back from them soon.


----------



## Zaruthustran

For art, I think Nwm's assault on the army would be pretty wicked. Especially if done in a medieval style, similar to: 







Add more green and black to the pallette, and place the POV somewhere higher (near Nwm's alititude) and more vertical, and you'd have an impressive and terrifying piece.


----------



## Dark Seraph

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> I think a lot of the sessions are actually done by email.  Which means that players get as much one-on-one time with the DM as they need.
> 
> Oh, and thanks everyone for the suggestions for the subject of the next artwork. I'm thinking of another Mostin portrait; with pseudopod and a truly grotesque Mogus, and maybe Gihaahia and the Claviger.  A scene with multiple figures would be nice, but the cost for artwork is generally per character.
> 
> I have sent emails to Storn and Geoff Nelson- hopefully I'll hear back from them soon.




Cheiro,

If it is not too much of an imposition could you perhaps provide a new comer to these parts with a link or three where Sep's tale is/are compiled as a single unbroken thread, if there is one.

Thank you.

DS.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Dark Seraph said:
			
		

> Cheiro,
> 
> If it is not too much of an imposition could you perhaps provide a new comer to these parts with a link or three where Sep's tale is/are compiled as a single unbroken thread, if there is one.
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> DS.



Certainly!  I used to have the link as my signature, but I got discouraged after a 6 month dry spell.

Various bumps, questions and comments interrupt the main line of the story, but there is a much higher signal to noise ratio than anywhere else.
__________________
[Highlight]Tales of Wyre: Compiled Sepulchrave Story Hour (updated 12-28)[/highlight]
and associated Rogue's Gallery (master list of links)


----------



## Baron Opal

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> As Ahma, I take the moral burden of the atrocities to be committed entirely upon myself. Make it clear that all who join us are absolved of all sin. This is a Holy War: their entry to paradise is assured. Are there any questions?





			
				Bloodcookie said:
			
		

> Yikes. Eadric's obviously getting his Pope Urban II on




Exactly what I was thinking. Eadric seems almost determined to fall, sometimes.



			
				grodog said:
			
		

> I'm going to have to go back through the threads, since I think that I postulated something about the Cults of Chesne taking the purification of Khu as a first strike of sorts---they well may be viewing this as a justified, provoked war....




I'll second this as well.

Realizing that Jovol was a wild card / plot device and thus not wholly bound by stats and rules, you have to wonder what the comparable power levels are between the cabal that bound what was to become the Claviger and the eleven in Shuth. And isn't there some tie between the source of the entity that became the Claviger and Chesne?  The Shuth cabal might be a bit miffed that some other magicians had the temerity to mess with their goddess. It is conceivable to me that one of the major assumptions of the Claviger is that it prosecutes its authority against a single magician, a small cabal of 3-4 valent at best. Assuming that the spell that bound the entity was on par with the _Wave of Hate_, the Shuth cabal might be able to shunt the Claviger out of this reality all together with proper preparation.

Not much to stop their magics against Wyre then, is there?

It may be that Jovol was not preparing against the self-destruction of the magicians of Wyre but rather creating a bulwark against the Chesne cultists who saw the cascade at Khu as a "first strike".

Enjoying the story as always, Sepulchrave. Thank you.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Baron Opal; I think you might be confusing the Claviger and the Enforcer.  The Claviger is an entity of deific proportions.  The Enforcer is just an abomination- albeit an abomination who is backed by the Claviger.  Oronthon has the power to temporarily magnify (give divine ranks to) his servants.  The Claviger can do likewise.  The Eleven would have to be pretty tough to take on Gihaahia if she is temporarily an intermediate power.  Maybe they could do it- one of their members compelled Orcus, after all.  But that much power could easily get the Goddess involved- and She can swat whole pantheons.


----------



## The Axe

*Oooh, ooh!*



			
				humble minion said:
			
		

> Nwm's first _She is tired of your interference_ in the courtyard at Deorham.




Seconded!


----------



## The Forsaken One

The Axe said:
			
		

> Seconded!



3rded 

OR

My favorite.... Eadric in the breach of the Palling on Throille <3

That is still the best scene ever depictde in my mind of all the literature I've ever read or any movie I've ever seen. It's so quintessential but soooo powerfull and moving.


Thanks for the linking btw Cheiro!

And Sep, best christmas present I've gotten . God I love this stuff, gets me thrilled with each update. I'd pay you for updates if I could and it would speed them up haha .

Awsome!


----------



## GoodKingJayIII

Good reads  

Cheiro, I'm sort of behind on all this.  Just out of curiosity, how are you involved in Sep's story?  Are you a player?  Friend?  A very nice fellow doing some archiving and commissioning?

Whatever the case may be, thanks for all your hard work in this too.  Reading the compiled thread was really convenient for me.  I'm glad it was there.


----------



## Cheiromancer

GoodKingJay said:
			
		

> Cheiro, I'm sort of behind on all this. Just out of curiosity, how are you involved in Sep's story? Are you a player? Friend? A very nice fellow doing some archiving and commissioning?



I've never played in one of Sep's games, and I only know him from the boards (and board related emails). It's most accurate to say that I'm doing some archiving and commissioning.  I'm not qualified to give an opinion on the "very nice" part.  Although I am a fellow. 

I'm also helping Sepulchrave with the Epic Magic rules- currently in the Dog Soul forum.  Not much activity there at the moment, but I feel creative urges building.


----------



## GoodKingJayIII

Cool, I was checking those out myself.  Sep's story (and both your ideas in Dog Soul's forums) have rekindled my interest in epic play.  I'm impressed how he's managed to challenge his players in a very Epic (big-E) and epic (little-e) way.  He's escalated the game challenges in an interesting way, but the story is still good larger-than-life mythical fantasy.

His PCs are living legends, doing legendary things.  I like that.


----------



## grodog

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> I'm also helping Sepulchrave with the Epic Magic rules- currently in the Dog Soul forum.  Not much activity there at the moment, but I feel creative urges building.




What's Dog Soul Games?


----------



## Cheiromancer

grodog said:
			
		

> What's Dog Soul Games?



A small gaming company.  Here  are some of their products.  I know the owner from another board, and she graciously offered us space when we felt the House Rules thread was too confining.  This was just after the ENGS closed, or I would have bought a publisher forum.


----------



## The Forsaken One

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> I'm not qualified to give an opinion on the "very nice" part.  Although I am a fellow.



I'll be the judge on part of the "very nice" qualification then! Cheiro rulezz


----------



## Al the Absentminded

I admit to some surprise that Mostin doesn't have some method of chastizing demons and devils. One allowed by his understanding with the Host, I mean. If Iua - or her sword - isn't a major arcane connection to Surab, I'd be pretty surprised. Design and cast an anti-evil spell through that. 

Of course, my paradigm isn't Sepulchrave's. I suspect we interpret "Lawful Good" very differently.

-Albert


----------



## Rackhir

Mostin is my Idol!


----------



## tleilaxu

Al the Absentminded said:
			
		

> I admit to some surprise that Mostin doesn't have some method of chastizing demons and devils. One allowed by his understanding with the Host, I mean.




mostin isn't allowed to summon fiends anymore. this is his preferred method of 'dealing' with them. as per titivilus et al.


----------



## Destil

You know what the weirdest thing about this story is...

This is your iconic 3rd Edition 4 member party.

Sure you have a paladin instead of a fighter and a druid instead of a cleric. No real change there, though.

Interesting to see how far from the beaten path a game can get with the same tools as everyone else.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Here's a sketch of Gihaahia.  What do folks think?  Be honest- the artist is anxious that we be happy with the final work.


----------



## Bloodcookie

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> Here's a sketch of Gihaahia.  What do folks think?  Be honest- the artist is anxious that we be happy with the final work.




It's certainly well-drawn, but I do have a question: is this Gihaahia _as herself_, or _as the Enforcer_? Because, if it's the former, she seems much more... anthropoid than I had imagined, considering that she is "an atavism from a previous reality". And, if it's the latter manifestation, I had thought she would appear more austere and androgynous - "black-clad humanoid shape, approximately female". Of course, it's entirely possible these judgments have no objective basis, and I've been mislead by my own imagination


----------



## Cheiromancer

After telling him about the story hour (and giving him the link to the compiled story hour) I described who the Claviger was, and that Gihaahia was the Claviger's enforcer.  Let's see if I can find my exact words:



> There isn't a very detailed description of the Enforcer.  She appears as an incredibly beautiful woman with impossibly red hair, clad in black (post 113 of the thread). She is cruel and sadistic, but constrained by the Claviger.  She's really an abomination; the daughter of a Goddess of Annihilation named Chesne and Astaroth, a duke of Hell.




So the portrait is more as the Enforcer than her true form.  And the descriptions in the story hour are not entirely consistent; at least I am not sure how one can manage being "incredibly beautiful" if one is only "approximately female".  If I had to choose, I'd prefer the former rather than the latter. 

I like her hands.  And the way her hair looks- when it is colored it should be very nice.


----------



## Lela

At her "creation" she's referred to as "a woman of singular beauty".

I have a vague recollection of an art thread.  Is there anything beyond what I got out of the Yahoo group?


----------



## Felix

Nice pick. I'd still like to see her next to the physical tablet of the claviger rather than broken wagon wheels, but with red_red*red*_ hair and black leather, she'd be wonderfully done.

The only other things I could think of to make her somewhat more beastial would be the old cliches; hooves, tail, reversed knees. I wouldn't change anything though. Maybe red eyes as well as red hair?


----------



## Greybar

Wayward reader just rediscovering (lost my notification somehow), and I wonder if anyone can enlighten me: Have we ever heard more about The Confrontation?  (aka what happened in Afqithan). It's alluded to but not detailed, right?

Man, if only I had the time to reread from the beginning again...


----------



## GoodKingJayIII

It's a good picture.  I think the depiction is an appropriate interpretation, however I think some background detail that tells us who she is would make the art perfect.  The Claviger tablet in the background would be perfect.

Ideally anyone should be able to look at these pictures and say "Now _that's_ the Enforcer."


----------



## Sepulchrave II

I like the pose a great deal, although I'd prefer it if she were more slender, and her hips and breasts less generous. I don't remember if I described her this way, but when she first appeared to Mostin, I imagined her outfit as very simple - more of an imitation of mortal clothing, without ostentation or even necessarily functionality. More for the sake of modesty, maybe.



> I am not sure how one can manage being "incredibly beautiful" if one is only "approximately female"




I don't think that androgyny and beauty are mutually exclusive. On the right girl, of course.

I think her eyes should be black pits.

I really like her face and hair.


----------



## Justin

Obviously Gihaaia is Sep's creation, but I thought I'd toss in my two cents here.

I always pictured her something like an idealized version of Shirley Manson, but taller and a bit more buff. And I love Sep's comment about her eyes being black pits. That, with the clawed hands, makes me now think of a cross between Shirley and how the character Michael Corvin in _Underworld: Evolution_ would start to vamp/wolf out.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Alrighty; I sent Sep's comments to the artist, and asked him to start a new draft.  I'll pay him for the sketch above (I am no oppressor of artists) since it fits my initial description quite well.  Besides, Gihaahia is a shape-changer- perhaps this is her in a more feminine moment.

I should probably not be so hasty in commissioning pieces before I know what they are supposed to depict.  If I had a short descriptive paragraph of a character in hand it would make it a lot easier for the artists.

I haven't seen the sketch for the evolved Mostin yet, but I did forward the old portrait by Doctor Midnight as a basis; it would be nice if an observer could recognize the two portraits as being of the same character at different times.  I wanted Mogus to be more grotesque, Mostin to have a tentacle (I'm not sure what it will look like exactly- either a suckered tentacle or an oily pseudopod, most likely), and there to be more eyes on the robe.  A different hat (artist's discretion), and a more animate beard.

I don't know if he will be a long-lasting antagonist, but I was thinking of Temenun (or one of the other 11) as a possible future commission.  A thin rakshasa with the head of a white tiger.  Is there more to Temenun than that?


----------



## Zaruthustran

Quick question: is there a PDF or Word doc of the compiled Sep's story hour? I didn't find a link the Compiled thread.


----------



## Lela

Zaruthustran said:
			
		

> Quick question: is there a PDF or Word doc of the compiled Sep's story hour? I didn't find a link the Compiled thread.




You can find word docs here for the first 7 threads:

http://games.groups.yahoo.com/group/Sepulchraves-Wyre/

You have to subscribe but, trust me, it's worth it.  Usually Grodog lets everyone there know when we get an update.  Or you can just go the no e-mail route.

I'm currently cleaning them up (we're talking hundreds of pages) while reading them again.  Hopefully saying that won't curb my enthusiasm.  If you want a copy of #1, let me know.  I can e-mail it.

Also, if anyone is an OpenOffice expert, I am having a little trouble with weird lines.  Toss me an e-mail (dynamicIntrovert2 vis a vis Y!).


----------



## Quartz

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> Here's a sketch of Gihaahia.



Far too generic. More I cannot say.


----------



## Al the Absentminded

tleilaxu said:
			
		

> mostin isn't allowed to summon fiends anymore. this is his preferred method of 'dealing' with them. as per titivilus et al.




Yeah, but since he has fiendish enemies, it would make sense to come up with a way to dispose of them that doesn't violate his agreement.

-Albert


----------



## Roman

Great stuff! I am especially interested in seeing whether NWM is right and Eadric proves to be the cause of the current troubles due to his behaviour that could be considered... questionable... in some circles of his religion.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Alright.  The Shirley Manson-like figure proved too hard to get right.  So I decided to go with the other version; Gihaahia in a feminine mood.  The segmented armor-like appearance of her clothes hints at her true, scaly form.  Her hair is so red it makes everything else appear colorless. Her eyes are black pits.  The background scene of destruction hints at her delight in mayhem.

I attached it to the master link of links in the compiled thread, but this is what I think she looks like:
[sblock=Gihaahia]






[/sblock]

Harsh did a fine job.

I'd like to have him do Temenun next, but I need more description about the rakshasa's clothing and gear.


----------



## Lela

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> I attached it to the master link of links in the compiled thread, but this is what I think she looks like:
> 
> Harsh did a fine job.




That's pretty cool.  All the black and white is a little odd, though I still like it.  Never really seen that before.


----------



## Nightbreeze

yay


----------



## Sepulchrave II

I'm liking the pic a whole lot.

It's particularly apt timing, as Gihaahia's role in the SH is about to become more high-profile. Of course, it may be a while before I actually get around to updating


----------



## Cheiromancer

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> I'm liking the pic a whole lot.




I'm glad to hear it. 

Give me a paragraph of description of another character (maybe Temenun?) and I'll feed another into the queue.  The new Mostin should be along soon, courtesy of Storn.


----------



## The Forsaken One

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> I'm liking the pic a whole lot.
> 
> It's particularly apt timing, as Gihaahia's role in the SH is about to become more high-profile. Of course, it may be a while before I actually get around to updating



Hahaha you cruel, cruel man. First teasing then holding us off again and crushing our hopes!



Hope you're doing well man and taking this as it goes. As long as you enjoy yourself as well it's all good!


----------



## Jumbie

OMG, so wonderful. Hadn't checked in in a while cause I've been pretty busy but *there are updates!!!!!!!!!*

Thanks a million Sep. Glad that you're still willing to share your brilliant writing with us. 

***

As an aside, after I write my boards in about 6 weeks I'll have nearly two months before beginning rotations to catch up on some reading. Anyone have any suggestions for some good fantasy novels (not Sci Fi please)? I generally like things to do with magic and mythical races.

Authors I've enjoyed in the past are Tolkien, of course, Tad Williams (Dragonbone Chair), Robert Jordan (he does tend to ramble on but I like the Wheel of Time series), Guy Gavriel Kay (Fionavar Tapestry), etc. A friend recommended David Gemmel to me but he has a million books out and I dunno which would be good. I read The Lion of Macedon and The Dark God over Christmas and *really* enjoyed them although they were Greek Mythology rather than Fantasy.

Anyway, suggestions would be welcome and sorry about the OT. You can PM me any replies rather than clutter this thread further. Thanks.


----------



## The Forsaken One

Jumbie said:
			
		

> OMG, so wonderful. Hadn't checked in in a while cause I've been pretty busy but *there are updates!!!!!!!!!*
> 
> Thanks a million Sep. Glad that you're still willing to share your brilliant writing with us.
> 
> ***
> 
> As an aside, after I write my boards in about 6 weeks I'll have nearly two months before beginning rotations to catch up on some reading. Anyone have any suggestions for some good fantasy novels (not Sci Fi please)? I generally like things to do with magic and mythical races.
> 
> Authors I've enjoyed in the past are Tolkien, of course, Tad Williams (Dragonbone Chair), Robert Jordan (he does tend to ramble on but I like the Wheel of Time series), Guy Gavriel Kay (Fionavar Tapestry), etc. A friend recommended David Gemmel to me but he has a million books out and I dunno which would be good. I read The Lion of Macedon and The Dark God over Christmas and *really* enjoyed them although they were Greek Mythology rather than Fantasy.
> 
> Anyway, suggestions would be welcome and sorry about the OT. You can PM me any replies rather than clutter this thread further. Thanks.




Go read stuff from Vance and his tales of the Dying Earth or buckle yourself for a real fantasy ride and pick up A song of Ice and Fire from George R. R. Martin. Last named is an err... epos for lack of another world which atm consists of 5 books. (3.5 I know but it's still 5 books in the flesh )

Both won't disappoint you I think .


----------



## Cheiromancer

And here's the latest commission: another one of Mostin.  Courtesy of Storn.

[sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




[/sblock]


----------



## Lela

I like it!  It even lines up with the old picture.  Can you e-mail me the high res version--dynamicintrovert2 via Y!

It'd be nice to have it for the stuff I'm putting together.


----------



## Cheiromancer

It's on its way!

For ease of comparison, this is the previous pic of Mostin:
[sblock]





[/sblock]

(It's in sblocks for the sake of fast page loading)


----------



## Rary the Traitor

I *love* the new Mostin pic! Love it!!


Hey Sep, you're not going to make us wait 6 months this time, are you? 








I'm very grateful that you keep updating this thread. Take as much time as you need.


----------



## Bloodcookie

_Very_ much liking the new Mostin pic, even if he is wearing one of his more modest chapeaux


----------



## Cheiromancer

Bloodcookie said:
			
		

> _Very_ much liking the new Mostin pic, even if he is wearing one of his more modest chapeaux



It looks rather like a hat that Indiana Jones might wear, doesn't it?  Who knows how it ended up in the Far Realm - or what happened to Mostin's old hat.


----------



## Lela

There's a Pseudonatural Indiana Jones out there looking for our good wizard.  My suggestion?  Don't act all scary with your whiplike tentacle thing.  Just blast 'im.


----------



## Yavathol

*Early story question*

I'm in the middle of re-reading the whole story, again  

A thought did cross my mind, however...
at the point where Mostin, eager to try his Greater Planar Binding spell, no doubt  encourages the group to summon Rurunoth, why were the party allowed the luxury of time and control over the manner!  Mostin even wanders off to gather spells, leaving the others holding the baby.  But my GM, I'm sure would never let me get away with this!  Rurunoth does not exist in isolation -  Grazzt will immediately notice his absence, and knows who Eadric is and his part in Nahael's atonement.  The characters haven't bothered with Mind Blanks, or even Nondetections, maybe they decided it wasn't worth it.  Point is, wouldn't Grazzt have ordered a rescue attempt?  Maybe he doesn't care enough about his leftenants?  Maybe he was distracted by arranging for Ainhorr to meet the solars.  Very fortunate timing for the party, if so.  I get the impression Rurunoth is an important pawn in Grazzt's schemes, so I don't get why he was abandoned?  

What are the rules, if any, on extra-planar demons using their own spells to teleport to the Material plane?  Are they only allowed to do so when summoned by a mortal?  If demons can't be used, wouldn't mortal followers like Rimilin be called in, all they have to do is break the circle and then teleport away?


----------



## GoodKingJayIII

I like both pictures of Mostin, but for different reasons.

In the original, he's very wide-eyed.  He looks more than slightly unhinged.  Plus his hat is absurd.

In the most recent version, he's got a very determined, no-nonsense look on his face, which is an important part of his personality IMO.  The tentacle is a great detail.  Also Mogus looks suitably strange.


----------



## GoodKingJayIII

As a potential commission request, how about Tahl?  I don't know about anyone else, but I've always liked him.


----------



## Greybar

> What are the rules, if any, on extra-planar demons using their own spells to teleport to the Material plane? Are they only allowed to do so when summoned by a mortal? If demons can't be used, wouldn't mortal followers like Rimilin be called in, all they have to do is break the circle and then teleport away?




My understanding is that in this cosmology, it requires a nontrivial expenditure of personal power (aka XP) for an extraplanar creature to breech into the prime material.  This power expediture is (I think) correlated to the power of the being, so it is easier for Grazzt to send a minor demon over than to move a balor.


----------



## Cheiromancer

GoodKingJayIII said:
			
		

> As a potential commission request, how about Tahl?  I don't know about anyone else, but I've always liked him.




The main sticking point is that I need a description of a character to send to an artist.  Has Tahl ever been described, except as "the Incorruptible"?


----------



## The Axe

Yavathol said:
			
		

> I'm in the middle of re-reading the whole story, again
> 
> A thought did cross my mind, however...
> at the point where Mostin, eager to try his Greater Planar Binding spell, no doubt  encourages the group to summon Rurunoth, why were the party allowed the luxury of time and control over the manner!  Mostin even wanders off to gather spells, leaving the others holding the baby.  But my GM, I'm sure would never let me get away with this!  Rurunoth does not exist in isolation -  Grazzt will immediately notice his absence, and knows who Eadric is and his part in Nahael's atonement.  The characters haven't bothered with Mind Blanks, or even Nondetections, maybe they decided it wasn't worth it.  Point is, wouldn't Grazzt have ordered a rescue attempt?  Maybe he doesn't care enough about his leftenants?  Maybe he was distracted by arranging for Ainhorr to meet the solars.  Very fortunate timing for the party, if so.  I get the impression Rurunoth is an important pawn in Grazzt's schemes, so I don't get why he was abandoned?



While I'm certainly not an expert here, I think Graz'zt has several Balor servants, in addition to *lots* of others.  I doubt he keeps track of all of them all the time.  Ruru was sent on an extended mission to the Ethereal to observe the goings on in Trempa; he's pretty powerful (relative to most other creatures), so it stands to reason that he goes on frequent extended missions.  If he was snatched while he was away from Aggrazat (sp?), Graz'zt may not know about it for quite some time; especially considering the number of irons a demon lord probably has in the fire.  Too, Graz'zt has *lots* of enemies---among which are other demon lords; perhaps he was running down the list and the party was pretty low on the threat radar.



			
				Yavathol said:
			
		

> What are the rules, if any, on extra-planar demons using their own spells to teleport to the Material plane?  Are they only allowed to do so when summoned by a mortal?  If demons can't be used, wouldn't mortal followers like Rimilin be called in, all they have to do is break the circle and then teleport away?



Demons can be transported directly to the Material Plane by a demon lord, but doing so requires a significant investment in energy by the demon lord (IIRC, the stats on the game mechanics involved are in the Rogue's Gallery thread).  I don't know if Sep has ruled that demons don't have the ability to go to the Material Plane or if the demons are just afraid that celestials will find out and come smack them around.


----------



## Justin

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> The main sticking point is that I need a description of a character to send to an artist.  Has Tahl ever been described, except as "the Incorruptible"?




For some reason, I've always pictured Kevin Bacon.


----------



## Lela

The Axe said:
			
		

> Demons can be transported directly to the Material Plane by a demon lord, but doing so requires a significant investment in energy by the demon lord (IIRC, the stats on the game mechanics involved are in the Rogue's Gallery thread).  I don't know if Sep has ruled that demons don't have the ability to go to the Material Plane or if the demons are just afraid that celestials will find out and come smack them around.




That last point is vague.  It's spoken of as the Celestial Interdict, though whether that's Oronthon threatening to squish them or an actual barieer I'm not sure.  I'd guess the later based on how a Demon Lord gets around it and the former based on how a mortal can let them through.  The two are not unequal.

Big G does have to give up something significant and "extremely taxing" to send something through.

From Lady Despina:



			
				Sep said:
			
		

> Most fiends can only enter the Prime Material Plane under special circumstances. They can be
> 
> 1) Invoked through magic or ritual, which allows a sojourn upon the Prime;
> 2) From the Astral Plane, possess certain individuals by means of a ‘Magic Jar’ or similar ability, or
> 3) They may, with the intervention of their overlord (a Demon Prince, Arch-Devil etc.), visit the Prime for a particular purpose. This may be a fact-finding mission, an attempted temptation of a specified individual, or to create general mayhem. Such an intervention on the part of the fiendish overlord is extremely taxing and represents a large investment in terms of personal energy, and is generally only undertaken if a modicum of success is assured. The succubus Nehael (Despina), who was appointed to seduce the Paladin Eadric, could only have made her planar transit with the aid of Prince Graz’zt.




Later Sep defines the cost when he stats out Graz'zt.  Basically, our favorite angry prince loses 1 point of Str, Con and Dex for every 2HD of the fiend he puts through.

From Heretic Part 1:



			
				Sep said:
			
		

> *Facilitate Translation (Sp):* as a Demon Prince, Graz’zt can open a gate to allow another fiend to reach the Prime Plane. The Demon Prince suffers temporary ability damage equal to the loss of one point of Strength, Dexterity and Constitution for every 2HD of the translating creature, rounded down. This temporary damage can only be healed naturally, at the rate of 1 point per day for each ability. Graz’zt himself may not enter the Prime unless called.


----------



## Yavathol

*Re: rescuing rurunoth*

Thanks, all for pointing out the restrictions on outsiders coming to the prime, at least in Sep's campaign.  I wasn't sure if there was an official WoC equivalent, for Greyhawk, for example, otherwise it is hard to envisage how the standard medieval/fantasy world would be changed if fiends could just pop in and wreak havoc.

Coming back to the story, I guess Feezuu or Rimilin would have been able to rescue Rurunoth, so the explanation that his absence wasn't missed is possible.  A more fiendish possibility might be that Grazzt was willing to sacrifice Rurunoth in order to enable Feezuu to assassinate the Archbishop, in some form of Cosmic balance.  The meeting of Ainhorr with the celestials (Urhoon & Enitharmon) is described subtly and does not make explicit the reasons behind what is said.  Which is one reason why I love this story hour; it requires thought and operates on multiple levels, with complex personalities  

On a meta-level, to what extent does Sep plot out the whole chain of events?  It might be that he planned Nahaels change of heart, and the Oronthonian schism that this would cause, but the PC's plan to get Rurunoth was unexpected and he handled it by ignoring that side of things, just maintaining the planned sequence of events?


----------



## tleilaxu

Yavathol said:
			
		

> Grazzt will immediately notice his absence, and knows who Eadric is and his part in Nahael's atonement.  The characters haven't bothered with Mind Blanks, or even Nondetections, maybe they decided it wasn't worth it.  Point is, wouldn't Grazzt have ordered a rescue attempt?




there are two answers for this question: in-game and out-game.

 in game, when the heroes are discussing how mostin's extradimensional space is vulnerable to graz'zt astrally projecting, one of the characters asks (sic) 'if it isn't safe now, wasn't it not safe before too?' the response is that now graz'zt is 'turning his eye' fully on them or some such. IE, only now do they warrant such great attention. graz'zt has enormous power, but he also has multiple worlds to worry about and has limits.

the out-game explanation is of course that the party wasn't high enough level to cast mind blanks etc. the game at that point was a game for 15th level characters, with challenges and enemies designed to fight against 15th level characters. a balor is a worthy opponent, the unbound hordes of zelatar are not.

get it?


----------



## GoodKingJayIII

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> The main sticking point is that I need a description of a character to send to an artist.  Has Tahl ever been described, except as "the Incorruptible"?




I thought he was described at the beginning of the story, when we first meet him at Eadric's keep.  But then, that could just be me imposing that memory on the story.  I'll give a look and see what I can find.



			
				Justin said:
			
		

> For some reason, I've always pictured Kevin Bacon.




Ewww...


----------



## Avarice

GoodKingJayIII said:
			
		

> I thought he was described at the beginning of the story, when we first meet him at Eadric's keep.  But then, that could just be me imposing that memory on the story.  I'll give a look and see what I can find.
> 
> 
> Here's a bit of the scene in question.  Still somewhat vague, really.  The Kevin Bacon image works as well as any, I think.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Just before noon on the next day, Tahl, together with his retinue of Templars, thundered through the gates of the castle and into the inner bailey. Their bright armour, polished to a remarkable sheen, peeked from beneath the unblazoned white surcoats of the Inquisition. Their cloaks were white, their banner a plain white field, unadorned. Each bore a lance, a burnished shield, and the consecrated weapons of Oronthon: the greatsword, symbolic of cutting through deception, and the scourge, representing the meting out of their deity’s proper justice. Here were great knights who, foreswearing their estates and taking vows of poverty, had entered the service of the Fane. Some rode horses with celestial blood running through their veins...
> 
> Tahl reigned in, dismounted and removed his great bascinet. He was a handsome man in his late thirties - a year or two older than Eadric – with a serious expression, but a face that did not seem humourless. He strode up to Eadric, and the two embraced.
Click to expand...


----------



## Lela

I think the players had a lot to do with the schism.  Around there Sep went to them and said he was looking for ideas.  What happened next is "what they came up with".  Not sure how much was them and how much was Sep.  I find it's fun to get ideas from the players and then twist them hard before--or while--introducing them in game.  I'd guess that Sep did much the same.


----------



## Lela

Would someone mind putting together Ainhorr's attacks for me?  An advanced, epic, outsider is a little beyond me.   

He's 3.0 in this btw.  Mainly I'm just looking to get the math for his Attack and Full Attack worked out.  BAB would be nice too.



			
				Please Excuse Formatting said:
			
		

> Ainhorr
> 
> Balor, Huge Outsider (Chaotic, Evil, Demon)
> Hit Dice: 30d8+180 (315 hp)
> Initiative: +4 (+4 Improved Initiative)
> Speed: 40 ft, fly 90 ft (average)
> Armor Class: 31 (-2 Size, +23 Natural)
> Attack: +42/+37/+32/+27 (huge +4 Unholy Celestial Bane Flaming Burst
> greatsword), +37 (whip) or +39 (2 slams); Dmg 2d8 +15 +1d6 (greatsword), 1d6+5 and entangle (whip) or slam 1d8
> +11 + Fear Effect; Special Attacks: fear, spell-like abilities, entangle, body flames, summon tanar’ri; Special
> Qualities DR 30/+3, SR 28, tanar’ri qualities, death throes. SV Fort +20, Ref +14, Will +19; AL CE; Str 33, Dex 11,
> Con 23, Int 20, Wis 20, Cha 16.
> 
> Languages: Abyssal, Celestial, Infernal
> 
> Skills: Bluff +38, Concentration +39, Diplomacy +37, Hide +23, Knowledge (Religion) +23, Knowledge (Philosophy)
> +23, Knowledge (Planes) +43, Knowledge (Fiendish Politics) +45, Listen +36, Move Silently +13, Scry +39, Search
> +25, Sense Motive +35, Spellcraft +36, Spot +44
> 
> Feats: Ambidexterity, Cleave, Improved Initiative, Two-Weapon Fighting, Weapon Focus (Greatsword), Improved
> Critical (Greatsword), Sunder, Power Attack.
> 
> Spell-like abilities (at 20th level): At will-, blasphemy, deeper darkness, desecrate, detect good, detect law, fear,
> greater dispelling, polymorph self, pyrotechnics, read magic, suggestion, symbol (any), telekinesis, teleport (self
> plus 50 pounds of objects only), tongues (self only), unhallow, unholy aura, unholy blight, and wall of fire. 1/day –
> fire storm, implosion. Save DCs are 13 + spell level.
> 
> Special Qualities: Fear, Entangle, Detect Magic, See Invisibility, Summon Tanar’ri, Death Throes, +8 Racial bonus to
> Spot and Listen checks.
> 
> 
> Ainhorr is advanced from 13HD to 30HD, and represents one of the "great" Balors—he is scarcely less than a Demon
> Lord in terms of power and influence. Of the six Balors in Graz'zt's service (Ainhorr, Uruum, Choeth, Rurunoth, Irzho
> and Djorm), Ainhorr is by far the most potent.
> 
> Ainhorr is Graz’zt’s majordomo, the foremost general of his armies, and his most trusted servitor. In the initial revolt
> in Heaven, the Balor was one of Graz'zt's closest allies and his confidant, and fought next to the Prince on the
> Celestial Plains prior to the Fall. During Graz'zt's prolonged absence from his own planes, Ainhorr acted as steward
> of his master's realm.


----------



## Joshua Randall

Lela said:
			
		

> Would someone mind putting together Ainhorr's attacks for me?



I'll give it a shot.

Outsiders have BAB = HD, so through 20th level, Ainhorr has BAB +20.
At the Epic levels, BAB slows down to +1 every odd level, so +5 by level 30, or BAB +25 overall.

So:

+25 (BAB) +11 (Str) +1 (Wpn Focus) +4 (magic greatsword) = +41

Hmm. This is off by one from what is listed in Ainhorr's stat block. Umm... not sure why.


----------



## Shieldhaven

...ummm, what about his attack penalty for being Huge?

Haven


----------



## Joshua Randall

Er, yeah. Forgot about that.

And another thing: normal balors have Str 35, not Str 33 that is listed for Ainhorr.

Also, I can't get the normal balor's attack bonuses to work out either.







			
				SRD said:
			
		

> *BALOR*
> *Large Outsider (Chaotic, Extraplanar, Evil)*
> *Hit Dice*: 20d8+200 (290 hp)
> *Base Attack/Grapple*: +20/+36
> *Attack*: +1 vorpal longsword +33 melee (2d6+8/19–20)
> *Abilities*: Str 35, Dex 25, Con 31, Int 24, Wis 24, Cha 26
> *Feats*: Cleave, Improved Initiative, Improved Two-Weapon Fighting, Power Attack, Quicken Spell-Like Ability (telekinesis), Two-Weapon Fighting, Weapon Focus (longsword)



So: +20 (BAB) +12 (Str) +1 (Wpn Focus) +1 (magic sword) -2 (size) = +32.

Still off by one. What the heck?


----------



## Harlath

The standard 3.5 Balor is Large, your size penalty is one too high. Easy to miss.


----------



## GoodKingJayIII

Avarice said:
			
		

> GoodKingJayIII said:
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Here's a bit of the scene in question.  Still somewhat vague, really.  The Kevin Bacon image works as well as any, I think.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Ok, ok... after reading the description, I suppose Kevin Bacon could play him in the Chronicles of Wyre movie.
> 
> But if he looks like Kevin Bacon, it's Kevin Bacon from _Tremors_.  _Not_ Kevin Bacon from _Hollow Man_.
Click to expand...


----------



## Justin

GoodKingJayIII said:
			
		

> Ok, ok... after reading the description, I suppose Kevin Bacon could play him in the Chronicles of Wyre movie.
> 
> But if he looks like Kevin Bacon, it's Kevin Bacon from _Tremors_.  _Not_ Kevin Bacon from _Hollow Man_.




Here he is in _Stir of Echoes_ at age ~40, Tahl being late 30s:


----------



## Cheiromancer

I asked Harsh to color the picture of the Enforcer and, due to a miscommunication, he colored the second version (the more androgynous, waifish version), not the one I gave above.  Here it is:

[sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




[/sblock]


----------



## Lela

I like it better.


----------



## Avarice

I'm with Lela on this one.  She just seems more menacing in this version, to me.  Maybe it's the combination of the waifish body with the dead black eyes and sadistic smirk.  Makes me think she'd be the type to enjoy pulling the wings off of flies; or the arms off of wizards.  Whatever it is, it's decidedly creepy.  Harsh does good work.


----------



## Bloodcookie

Lela said:
			
		

> I like it better.




Thirded. She looks more like the S&M schoolmarm I imagined her as


----------



## Cheiromancer

Here's the colored version of the other version.  For some reason there is a "paint-by-numbers" appearance to it that, apparently, doesn't appear in photoshop.  The skin color of her face appears blotchy to me.  Does it to you guys?  Does anyone know why this is, or how it could be fixed?  (Would a tif be better than jpg?)

[sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




[/sblock]


----------



## Olive

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> (Would a tif be better than jpg?)




Yeah, it would be. JPGs are compressed, TIFs aren't. Thr compression can lead to that sort of effect.


----------



## Lela

Could also do .png


----------



## Cheiromancer

I think he fixed the problem just by changing the shading a little.  I think the face looks nicer on this one, even if the file size is even smaller than the previous one.

[sblock]
	

	
	
		
		

		
		
	


	




[/sblock]


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Both are outstanding; I think I prefer the second, though. Harsh is awesome. It's weird how the art generated by the SH has actually come to determine my own conception of the characters in it. Weird, but very good.

Thanks, Cheiro. Your unflagging support is much appreciated.


----------



## grodog

Hey Sep, I'm travelling to CA again next week:  does that mean the that stars are aligning for another update?


----------



## Salthorae

SO yeah.. I was trying to access the DogSoul forum to find the continuation of the Epic discussions, but got a "holding" webpage. Does anyone have the link to that or did it go down and I missed it? 

Also, is there a compiled version of this SH? Chieromancer... you were working on something like that right?


----------



## Felix

Still alive?



			
				Salthorae said:
			
		

> SO yeah.. I was trying to access the DogSoul forum to find the continuation of the Epic discussions, but got a "holding" webpage. Does anyone have the link to that or did it go down and I missed it?
> 
> Also, is there a compiled version of this SH? Chieromancer... you were working on something like that right?



You're about 4 years behind the times there, Jimbo. Chieromancer's thread is thisaway.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Salthorae said:
			
		

> SO yeah.. I was trying to access the DogSoul forum to find the continuation of the Epic discussions, but got a "holding" webpage. Does anyone have the link to that or did it go down and I missed it?
> 
> Also, is there a compiled version of this SH? Chieromancer... you were working on something like that right?




Felix has the link to the SH.  The epic discussions are still there, but nothing has been added to them for more than a month.  You might want to check your forum settings to make sure they display older threads.


----------



## Salthorae

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> Felix has the link to the SH.  The epic discussions are still there, but nothing has been added to them for more than a month.  You might want to check your forum settings to make sure they display older threads.




Hmm, I guess what I meant by "compiled" was a PDF/ version to date  I do have the link to Cheiromancer's compiled SH, but I wanted to be lazy and hope that someone else had already done the copying and pasting necessary for me to have the wonderfulness on my home comp   

If not, no worries! I still love this SH, especially since it's one of the few where if I leave the boards for over a year I can still keep up with!


----------



## Avarice

Salthorae said:
			
		

> Hmm, I guess what I meant by "compiled" was a PDF/ version to date  I do have the link to Cheiromancer's compiled SH, but I wanted to be lazy and hope that someone else had already done the copying and pasting necessary for me to have the wonderfulness on my home comp
> 
> If not, no worries! I still love this SH, especially since it's one of the few where if I leave the boards for over a year I can still keep up with!




Well, you could always download Cheiromancer's thread as a text file (using thread tools).  If you prefer something more readable, I seem to recall that Grodog has the compilation stored online in .doc form, um... somewhere.  (Grodog?  A little help here?)

Or if you'd like, I'd be happy to send you my compilation (also in Word), though I haven't gotten around to putting the Viridity updates in any kind of comprehensible order yet.  My e-mail address should be in the profile.


----------



## Lela

Salthorae said:
			
		

> Hmm, I guess what I meant by "compiled" was a PDF/ version to date  I do have the link to Cheiromancer's compiled SH, but I wanted to be lazy and hope that someone else had already done the copying and pasting necessary for me to have the wonderfulness on my home comp
> 
> If not, no worries! I still love this SH, especially since it's one of the few where if I leave the boards for over a year I can still keep up with!



 E-mail me.  ValgrathProductions and (Gmail) .com


----------



## grodog

Avarice said:
			
		

> Well, you could always download Cheiromancer's thread as a text file (using thread tools).  If you prefer something more readable, I seem to recall that Grodog has the compilation stored online in .doc form, um... somewhere.  (Grodog?  A little help here?)




You can download the files from the Wyre Yahoo group @ http://games.groups.yahoo.com/group/Sepulchraves-Wyre/ 

In my compilations, I interleaved, chronologically, the interesting posts from the SH as well as the RG threads.  That said, I haven't updated the files in quite awhile, so they're definitely not current for recent story updates or rules discussions.


----------



## The Forsaken One

Can't believe I'm still checking this thread daily for years, its just the best thing I've ever read/watched as entertainment.

*ever*


----------



## Suldulin

Now that Blackdirge has been published, what are the chances of now finally seeing this story in print?


----------



## grodog

What's Blackdirge???


----------



## Salthorae

What's taters precious?


----------



## grodog

It was a serious Q


----------



## Lela

grodog said:
			
		

> It was a serious Q



 Hey, it is hard to tell with you. . .

Could be worse.  You could be Darklone.


----------



## Noir

*bump*

summer is coming up. please give me something worthwhile to read under my favourite tree.


----------



## Thanael

grodog said:
			
		

> It was a serious Q




Blackdirge is famous for his Suped Up Monster thread. He writes very good fluff for very good crunch. He has published several books via Skeleton Key Games.

Recently his Story Hour Death of a Demon Lord was announced to be published as a novel trilogy by ENWorld.


----------



## Suldulin

Indeed, few in number are the things that could give me greater pleasure than holding a physical copy of the tales of wyre.  Blackdirge being published brings some new hope to such becoming reality.


----------



## BLACKDIRGE

Suldulin said:
			
		

> Indeed, few in number are the things that could give me greater pleasure than holding a physical copy of the tales of wyre.  Blackdirge being published brings some new hope to such becoming reality.




I think the publication of my story hour has placed me firmly in the role of guinea pig (perfectly willing, of course), and if the books sell well, then I expect you will see other story hours given the same treatment. If more story hours are published, then great tales like Sep's, Destan's, Sagiro's, and Shemeska's, just to name a few, would undoubtedly be tops on the list for publication.

BD


----------



## rantipole

This is the first time I've checked this thread in months. I miss it, and I'm trying to be hopeful, but it's difficult. I hope it continues. *Sigh* 

Cheers,
rant


----------



## grodog

* Bump *


----------



## grodog

Ahem?


----------



## Justin

I was just re-reading the last update (12/28/06!) and this caught my eye:



> Ortwine's invisible form flashed through the demagicked area.... Iua also stood there.
> 
> ...
> 
> Even as Ortwine's scimitar found its mark, Iua had leapt the distance between them and was about her in a fury, stabbing with uncanny speed.
> 
> Ortwine glanced toward Iua and caught her eye for a split second, hypnotizing her.




Can Iua, being half-air elemental IIRC, see invisible? And if not, I'd think Ortwine couldn't hypnotize someone who couldn't see her.

And while on the subject, if you can see something or someone that is invisible, do you know it is invisible?


----------



## grodog

Justin said:
			
		

> Can Iua, being half-air elemental IIRC, see invisible? And if not, I'd think Ortwine couldn't hypnotize someone who couldn't see her.




I tend to agree with that, assuming that hypnosis requires eye contact.



			
				Justin said:
			
		

> And while on the subject, if you can see something or someone that is invisible, do you know it is invisible?




I tend to think that someone who can see invisible by virtue of being high level/high int (in AD&D terms), with detect invisibility going or true seeing, etc. would know that someone was trying to be invisible and failing; whereas, someone with a very high intelligence score (who, in AD&D terms, is immune to illusions), may not necessarily know that someone was invisible.  Interesting question....

And *bump*!


----------



## grodog

Oh Horatio?  Wherefore art thou?


----------



## Joshua Randall

Justin said:
			
		

> And while on the subject, if you can see something or someone that is invisible, do you know it is invisible?



The _see invisibility_ spell explicitly states that you can distinguish between visible and invisible things. So yes, if you're using or mimicking that spell.


----------



## Justin

Joshua Randall said:
			
		

> The _see invisibility_ spell explicitly states that you can distinguish between visible and invisible things. So yes, if you're using or mimicking that spell.




Excellent point! However, after having read the spell (I should have thought of doing that in the first place), the wording takes me back to my original question. From the spell description:



> Such creatures are visible to you as *translucent shapes*, allowing you easily to discern the difference between visible, invisible, and ethereal creatures.




And from Sep's sidhe description:



> ...a sidhe may attempt to hypnotize (as the first level sorcerer/wizard spell) a single target within 30 ft. by meeting its gaze.




Wouldn't only seeing a "translucent shape" prevent such gaze attacks, including that of a medusa for example?

EDIT: Hrm, on the other hand, Ortwine is probably a weeee bit more powerful than Iua. Perhaps O's invisibility isn't "standard"?


----------



## Greybar

This also comes down to basic questions like:  does it make sense for a 2nd level spell to foil a 35th level character?


----------



## Sabriel

Re invisibility - If Ortwine was merely /invisible/, I believe that magic ends upon attack; Iua could then see Ortwine to attack and in turn be /hypnotised/. 

Re 2nd level spells - the "power" of spells is a combination of spell level, caster level, casting ability score, and other modifiers; I argue that spell level is not the dominating factor.

At low PC levels, using only the PHB and DMG, a high casting ability score can contribute more to a spell's Save DC than its spell level by as much as four to one! (e.g. Wizard 1, Int 10..18, DC = 10 + [0..1] + [0..4]).

At middle levels the fluctuation tends more towards spell level (e.g. Wizard 12, Int 10..21, DC = 10 + [0..6] + [0..5]) but note this is before including any ability-boosting magic that may be employed.

At epic levels... I suspect anecdotally that ability-score boosting is easier than spell-level boosting, and spell level would tend to be outweighed by the sum of all other modifiers. E.g. Mostin at 22nd level with Int 34 per his Rogue's Gallery stat block lists a spell DC of 22 + spell level (24 + spell level for conjuration), which implies DC = 10 + [0..9] + [12|14]. If 22nd level Mostin were to cast an ordinary fireball, the spell's level would be outweighed four-to-one by the potency of his intellect...

To sum up in simpler terms, "it's not just what you've got, it's how you use it."


----------



## The Forsaken One

Greybar said:
			
		

> This also comes down to basic questions like:  does it make sense for a 2nd level spell to foil a 35th level character?



It's not a spell, hypnotic gaze is a racial ability that deplicates the spells effect ;p.


----------



## grodog

Bump!


----------



## Rackhir

Rary the Traitor said:
			
		

> Good lord. This story hour will always be my favorite one, but you should really let it die. It's been more than *seven months* since the last update.




That just means we're due!


----------



## Olive

Rary the Traitor said:
			
		

> Good lord. This story hour will always be my favorite one, but you should really let it die. It's been more than *seven months* since the last update.




It was six months from the first post till the next at the beginning and only Horatio's dedication got us this. I mean, I don't really expect to see much more, but it can't hurt to try.


----------



## grodog

Son_of_Thunder said:
			
		

> Allan,
> 
> You still trying to keep this dead horse alive?




 But of course! 



			
				Rackhir said:
			
		

> That just means we're due!




Hear hear!    (Still @ Indy, flying home tomorrow).


----------



## grodog

Post-GenCon bump.

Oh Horatio, wherefore art thou, Horatio?


----------



## Horacio

grodog said:
			
		

> Post-GenCon bump.
> 
> Oh Horatio, wherefore art thou, Horatio?



 Here I am!

After four years, I'm proud to say... BUMP!


----------



## Lela

Horacio said:
			
		

> Here I am!
> 
> After four years, I'm proud to say... BUMP!




Ah, jeese.  Now I gotta come back.  Can't let Horacio reclaim his title of Most Obsessive Story Hour reader.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*The Road to Galda*


WYRE, to the furthest extent of its ancient bounds, stretched from the Ocean of Iarn in the east, to the rocky slopes of Harland in the west. Its northern frontiers were marked by the Thrumohar Mountains – the Heaped Thunders beyond which the frigid and inhospitable plateau of Tun Hartha stretched. In the south, it marched upon the cities which bustled around the warm and shallow waters of the Thalassine, where the winters were mild, and olive and almond trees grew in great profusion. For more than six hundred years, Wyre – in more determined fashion than its precursor, Borchiea – had dominated the political landscape of the subcontinent.

It was, for the most part, a fertile and well-watered land, strewn with numerous lakes in its inner regions, and hilly or mountainous at its margins. The forests which had once covered Wyre’s landscape had, by the diligent effort of fifty generations of farmers, been first contained, and then forced into retreat; save for the vast tracts of Nizkur in the west, where feys and older spirits still held sway. Wyre enjoyed the seasons in roughly equal measure, although the snows of winter had a tendency to linger.

Wyre lacked the ancient pedigree of the civilizations far to the south, or the enthusiastic dynamism of its closer neighbours in the Thalassine, but possessed a middle-aged dignity which had not been entirely leached of youthful vigour. Its stability, like most feodalities, was tenuous at best, and Wyre was often beset by internal strife. In its worst guise this manifested as open warfare between its grasping nobles but, more frequently, the internecine squabbles of Wyre’s aristocracy were resolved through the more elegant and precise medium of assassination. Millennia of history – mostly forgotten – underpinned Wyre’s traditions, but without the decadent self-obsession of Shûth, or the ponderous grandeur of Bedesh. The Wyrish, whether of noble or common birth, were not a people preoccupied with tradition and ceremony; although, in matters of faith and philosophy, opinions tended to be more jealously guarded – and more passionately voiced – than elsewhere.

Whilst power ebbed and flowed between great noble houses, its reins held by first one, and then another branch of the same huge family, the Orthodox Church of Oronthon prospered. By the beginning of the seventh century since Wyre’s foundation, the Temple – as it had become known in all of its guises – had firmly quashed any rivals to its supremacy, and sat, gross and distended, at the center of matters both spiritual and mundane. The plethora of heterodox philosophies which it had once tolerated had been reduced to the state of heretical cults by the Temple, and their adherents forced to Wyre’s geographical periphery. 

The Temple levied its own taxes, dispensed its own justice, maintained its own army, and prosecuted its own wars – albeit with the sanction of whichever monarch happened to sit upon the throne in Wyre’s capital, Morne. The boundaries of ecclesiastical and temporal law became so blurred that an exclusive class of barrister had evolved in order to negotiate this perilous field – where a charge of heresy was often the price for failing in the defense of one under the scrutiny of the Inquisition. Nonetheless, despite its cumbersome bureaucracy and dubious methods, the Temple retained an attraction for those whose motives were pure and selfless. And, provided they could endure the stagnation and inertia which Orthodoxy routinely presented to them, such individuals would find that, near the centre, was a kernel of truth, and a light which had not yet gone out.

At odds with the Temple, subject to higher taxes and frequent harassment – and occasional open persecution – an older faith persisted. It concerned itself with the cycles of growth and death and decay, with the rocks, the rivers and trees, and the numerous spirits which dwelled therein. It lacked a formal body of dogma, was not graced (or burdened) by an organized priesthood, and boasted no central locus of power. In fact, its practices were so diffuse and various that to call it one name would be to do an injustice to the diversity of perspectives which comprised it. Less ecumenically inclined members of the Temple simply dubbed the practice _pagan_ or _heathen_, and identified the woodland demigods and spirits venerated by the older faith with outcast members of their own hierarchy of celestial beings. Those clergy in Morne who adopted a more tolerant stance – often at some risk to themselves – called the other faith _Uediian_, after an earth-goddess whose cult had flourished in southern and eastern Wyre prior to the Temple’s ascendancy. The term, although simplistic, was deemed politer and was even adopted by members of the faith themselves. It was a name which simply identified them as ‘those who do not worship Oronthon,’ although _downtrodden_ might have been more apt. The interface between the two faiths, tense and dynamic, bred several interesting schools of inquiry, all of which were considered heretical by the prelacy.

In contrast to both religious movements, a third group existed. It had evolved from the undisciplined arcanism practiced before Wyre’s emergence. Its members concerned themselves with the pursuit of knowledge and understanding, and their methods and language were esoteric and complex. They shunned involvement in politics and regarded the desire for temporal power as aberrant and bizarre, seeking only to deepen their own understanding of obscure and hidden lore. They worked alone or, occasionally, in small cabals. They were mysterious, furtive and utterly obsessed with their own, elite clique: the raw talent required to become apprenticed to one of them precluded all but one in ten thousand of Wyre’s inhabitants. The Temple loathed and feared them, the Uediians distrusted them, and the temporal rulers of Wyre begged them for favours – often to be rejected on the grounds of some mysterious Injunction, the terms of which, when cited, made no sense to those who were not initiated. They dealt with feys, elementals, and all manner of more sinister entities, in a seemingly undiscerning manner. They were the Wizards.

Each of these three traditions had, in recent times, undergone a transformation. 

The Temple, beset by internal strife, had disestablished; its hierarchy was dissolved, and it's structure became cellular: the meditational practice known as _Saizhan_ became emphasized above all else. Involvement in temporal matters was frowned upon, although not expressly forbidden. Simultaneously fragmenting and synthesizing, the Temple underwent an explosive renaissance in philosophy. 

The ancient cults of Wyre which venerated Nature and Goddess were striving to coalesce into a single world-view which held that a _Viridity_ – a "Greenification" of the world – was underway. Some viewed this phenomenon as a periodic awakening in the cycle of the Goddess herself.

The Wizards – finally frustrated by their own isolating paranoia – had relinquished the proctorship of matters arcane to the mysterious entity known as the Claviger, and, in an atmosphere of suspicious camaraderie, information had begun to flow more freely between them.

It was against this backdrop of revolution in philosophy and praxis that a fourth perspective – ancient and sinister – was revealed. It was foreign to Wyre, and the cause of its re-emergence after centuries of brooding silence, the source of much speculation. Its exoteric teachings were of nihilism and death, although its true purpose was impenetrable to all rational scrutiny; its appeal was visceral in the extreme.  

*

Mesikammi flitted as an insubstantial mist through the night sky. A swift breeze bore her southwards with Hlioth to their appointed rendezvous with Mostin and Daunton. It was cloudless, and the young moon had already set; low in the east, the ruddy Eye of Cheshne – Soneillon's star – hung with her daughters. As Mesikammi gazed at it, it seemed to pulse with a menace which caused the shamaness to shiver; she shifted her perception rapidly, and concentrated instead on the rolling hills of Scir Cellod. A light frost clung to the ground below.

Hlioth spied a light and gestured. Both descended to where the Alienist had, in an effort to make himself comfortable, magically erected a small pavillion and a _secure shelter_ on a hilltop, and conjured a number of minor pseudoelementals to do his bidding. Daunton sat, cross-legged on the ground, staring into a _crystal ball_. Flambeaux burned in a wide circle about them.

"Perhaps you could make yourself even more conspicuous?" Hlioth snidely remarked as she corporeated. She assumed the form of an alluring woman of early middle-age, which may or may not have been authentic. 

Mostin ignored her. They were warded against magical observation, and that was all that mattered to him.

Daunton barely raised his head. "The appointed area is nineteen miles West. We can _screen_ this location if it makes you more comfortable, but I doubt that any scouts are trying to pinpoint us visually. We should also make a move soon: we need to be outside of the _quiescence_ again an hour before the meeting begins. We will be entering on foot or on horseback."

"How quaint," Hlioth grumbled.

"Eadric says that it would be 'proper form' for a diplomatic party. For what it's worth, I've got no issue with it – I don't anticipate crossed swords just yet."

"You are optimistic," Hlioth said caustically.

Mostin handed her a scroll, with arcane glyphs smothered across it. "Here is the formula."

Hlioth glanced at it. "You require a transvalent contribution? And ten gallons of my psyche, apparently."

"I have modified the spell. It is more robust."

"It better be."

"What have you been doing, Hlioth?" Mostin inquired. "In Nizkur?"

"The Forest will be our last defense. It must be secure."

A chill went down Mostin's spine. Daunton glanced upwards. "If you have some prescience which you wish to share, Hlioth…"

"I am not the one with the _web of motes_," Hlioth gazed at Mostin.

"And I've not yet had the time and resources to inspect it," Mostin snapped. "Were others than I committed to Wyre's defense; if I were to benefit a modicum of _support_ from the body magickal…"

"You lack the ability to rouse conviction in others, Mostin. When will you realize this?"

"As soon as any other takes responsibility," the Alienist retorted. "Something which, thus far, none have had the spine to do."

"Perhaps Mulissu is the prophet you are waiting for?"

"Perhaps _you_ are," the Alienist replied drily. "Although being chased by fauns is more to your liking."

"Do not denigrate simplicity, Mostin."

"Nor should you overlook the collective. You have become too selfish, Hlioth."

Hlioth laughed. "You know nothing of me or my means. I see wider and deeper than you, Mostin."

"_Then share your insight_," Mostin hissed.

"Not yet; but soon, maybe."

"You are arrogant beyond belief!"

"I am a cog in a larger wheel, which is turning through more dimensions than you can readily apprehend."

Mostin raised an eyebrow. "Now that, I most sincerely doubt."

**

They moved at fantastic speed, phantoms of fear from which all that lived, fled. 

Before they reached the limit of the _quiescence_, the stars seemed to wink out and, for a moment, utter darkness prevailed. The ground shook as in some terrible impact ahead of them. Space warped briefly. Gihaahia stood before them: her aspect was gigantic; winged and wrathful, and magnified to terrifying proportions. Flames kindled about her. 

Choach invoked a shimmering ward which encapsulated them all, stretching the fabric of reality into a semipermeable interface of null-magic. It crackled darkly.

The Enforcer shattered it with a contemptuous glance. The lich reeled.

"You act beyond your purview," Yeshe was undaunted. "We are outside of Wyre and no transgression has occurred."

*Silence your tongue. Speak not to me of my responsibility.*

"Sister…" Naatha began.

*And you, lest I deem your head unsuited to your body.*

Naatha promptly closed her mouth.

From a huge, clawed hand, Gihaahia let a tablet drop with a _thud_. She sneered – evidently she preserved her sense of humour.

*The Rules Have Changed. I suggest you read them before you proceed. Consider this a polite warning.*

The Enforcer vanished.

Yeshe cursed. She didn't need to be told what the tablet was.

"She was three times thrice…"  Choach began.

"I know it," Yeshe replied dismissively, waving a hand.*

"Need I remind you of…"

"_I know it!_" Yeshe screamed, her face contorting. Her calm – whether mood or façade – reasserted itself in an instant. "We have underestimated the Claviger. That could prove problematic."

"It is a strategy devised to allow the _Ahma_ time to prepare," Sibud grimaced. "Jovol's prescience should not be underestimated. Who can tell how his negotiations with the Claviger proceeded? Jovol's Oronthonian sympathies were well attested to."

"As is your paranoia," Yeshe replied.

Sibud remained silent.

"My apologies, brother," Yeshe gave a curt bow. "Forgive my words – they were spoken in haste. Please continue."

"Thank-you," Sibud smiled. "If the Claviger…"

Yeshe pretended to listen, but her own head span. She waited for a suitable length of time as the Vampire spoke – _his power should not be underestimated_ - before gesturing. The tablets rose from the ground and hung before her. She inspected them swiftly for any revisions: prudence had demanded her own familiarity with the Wyrish Injunction. 

As her eyes scanned the engraved text, her face contorted in anger and disbelief.

"_…dispensation to the Enforcer to act unilaterally…_"

"_…extension of the Injunction's remit to include aspects of Shûthite theurgy within the …_"

"_…the preservation of the Wyrish Collegium…_"

Yeshe closed her eyes, and brooded silently. Sibud might be right: maybe it was an Oronthonian conspiracy, after all. She issued a _sending_ to Temenun.

The Tiger-Who-Waits was nonchalant.

_She is still finite. Let her flap her wings._

**

It was twilight. The company rode south to Galda.

"One wonders what would have happened, had you slain Despina," Nwm remarked drily. He rode bareback – and expertly – upon a charger lent him by Prince Tagur. The horse had seemed absorbed in an ecstatic trance since its temporary adoption by the Druid.

Eadric shrugged. He felt uncomfortable.

"Perhaps reality would not have unravelled to quite such a degree," Nwm continued. "Sparing her was an ambiguous act, wouldn't you agree? Rooted as much in lust as in compassion."

Tarpion scowled. Nwm smiled back.

Eadric sighed. "My conscience is fraught enough as is, Nwm. Why add more to my misery? I've thought long on this – and Nehael's rejection of Oronthon. I know it well."

"She asked me to remind you," Nwm grinned.

Eadric squinted.

"She said other things, do you wish to hear them?"

"I'm not sure," the _Ahma_ shifted in his saddle. "Will they depress me?"

"Perhaps they can wait."

Eadric shook his head ironically.

"I can quote her verbatim, if you wish?"

"Spit it out, Nwm," Eadric groaned.

"'Enjoin the _Ahma_ to recall that moment, and to reflect upon his motivation at that point – before his awareness had expanded to embrace a larger reality, when his concerns were more human and less divine. The seed of discord in his mind – the tension between his desire and his mercy – has been the source of his strength. The root of the Path of Lightning, which has unshackled him from morality. For a while, that path and the Middle Way were congruent, but no longer; if the antinomian view becomes dogmatic, he will fall as surely as the Adversary.

'The Viridity arises in response to the ontological paradox. It grounds the abstract in the present. Notions of _ens_ and _non-ens_ are abandoned in the face of the Now, and when the _Sela_ apprehends the Viridity through _Saizhan_, he is pleased: the vibrancy of life crushes all philosophy.'"

Eadric reflected for a while, and scowled. "She has become no less opaque."

Nwm drew to a halt, and called out to Tagur, who led the company. "We will rest here for one hour. The _Ahma_ and I will return shortly." The Druid began riding towards a lone cypress, a hundred yards from the roadside.

Eadric paused uncertainly for a long moment, and then spurred his mount to follow. "Where are we going?" He called to Nwm.

"To Afqithan," Nwm replied.

Eadric immediately reined his steed in, and shook his head. "I have no desire to return there."

Nwm wheeled about and stared hard at him. 

"Oh, very well," Eadric grumbled.


**


The pool was black as pitch, and utterly still. Tendrils of dark mist clung to its surface.

"Welcome to the source of your nightmares."

"I am past grieving, Nwm."

"You are disconnected from your humanity," Nwm opined.

"So you bring me to the grave of the demoness? This serves little purpose."

"Your reluctance to be here would suggest otherwise."

"I am wary of invoking her: her memory yet resides."

"She is merely a phantom which clings to the _real_."

"What is the purpose of this excursion, Nwm?" The _Ahma_ was wary.

"Consider the Viridity, Eadric. Aside from the truth of it – and you have _experienced_ that, so you cannot deny it – your words can sway thousands. 
If you were to adopt a reconciliatory perspective, you could effect the synthesis and flowering of religious thought for generations to come. An end to ethnic strife in Wyre. The _Sela_ must surely agree…"

"The _Sela_ would express no opinion, I'm sure," Eadric smiled wrily.

"_It must happen_," Nwm seemed adamant. "It is only a matter of _how_ and _when_. You have a responsibility to posterity: you must exercise it wisely."

"The weight of history is not mine to bear."

"I do not shirk my duty thus," Nwm was acid. "I still strive to effect change for the better. My concerns are human."

"When you are not pursuing the elusive Goddess."

Nwm smiled. "My perspective is balanced. But if you wish to speak of the devouring feminine, Eadric, I'm all ears."

The _Ahma_ pondered briefly.

"There is much common ground here, Ed. You know it. A mystic is a mystic, after all."

"_I do not determine doctrine,_" Eadric groaned. "And I will not be drawn into a debate involving comparative mysticism. At least, not until I've eaten. And I will not make sweeping religious reforms."

"Why not? Who says you can't? Or shouldn't? You say that the _Sela_ would have no opinion on the matter, and why should he? But you can. You are the _Ahma._ You are not the 'gnostic intellect of God.' If not you, then who?"

"Bah! Perhaps. But it is not my immediate concern. And even as we stand here, hours fly past in the World."

"There is something you should see. Please indulge me!"

"Be quick!"

Nwm shifted into the form of a raven with a thirty-foot wingspan, and made an odd clicking sound, indicating that Eadric should climb onto his back. He powered upwards through the canopy, into the violet and saffron gloaming of Afqithan's sky, and bore off in a direction away from Ortwine's Fortress.

"Look through the _Eye of Palamabron_," Nwm croaked.

Eadric did so, and gaped. Nearby, soaring above the treetops, was Murmuur's tower, abandoned. Coiled about its upper quarter was a linnorm of dreadful size, dark with shadowy power – some ancient vestige from the umbral fringe of Afqithan. Teppu had bound it, and set it about the place in guard, before hiding the tower itself from all but the most penetrating sight.

"Hlioth is of the opinion that Mostin, were he to use the _web of motes_ in his inquiry, could determine the mode of operation of this device."

"I think that Mostin owning a planar nexus to the Hells is a _bad_ idea," Eadric said. "Besides, why has it not been retrieved?"

"Devils do not step here. They have no place now."

"Nor do I."

"Ah, but you are here by _invitation_. My question is precisely this: _should_ we tell Mostin?"

"I suspect we have to, now," Eadric said glumly. "Can you imagine how he'd react if he found out that we knew about it, and had said nothing?"

Nwm nodded his avian head. "There is one other thing…" 

"How many other 'one other things' are there likely to be?"

"No more. I am wary of your reaction to this, however."

"Thank-you for the warning." 

Nwm squawked. "Around now, Mulissu has seized control of the City of Fumaril."

Eadric was aghast. "You cannot be serious!"

"The Temple of Jeshi has endorsed her coup, and a dozen wind-sorcerers are backing her. She is erecting a barrier – similar to Soneillon's paling – around the city."

"The Injunction?"

"She is outside it."

"But the other Wyrish Wizards…this is a massive breach of etiquette."

"Who cares? She's Mulissu. No-one dare challenge her. Especially if they know that Mostin would jump to her aid."

"It seems most unlike her," Eadric mused.

"Teppu is persuasive. And Jovol was the only Wizard that Mulissu ever deferred to."

"And you support this course of action?"

"I'm not sure," Nwm admitted. "It risks a great deal – it is a response to the compulsions which were laid down by the Cheshnite cabals, and ups the ante more than I'm altogether comfortable with. But she will bring order to the city very quickly, either by persuasion or by _domination_."

"Does she intend for this to be a permanent arrangement?"

"She is styling herself _Tyrant of Fumaril_, so one would assume so."

"At least she makes no pretence as to her role. I wish I could say the same. Is this the _same_ Mulissu? I mean, has her reincarnation changed her?"

"It always does," Nwm seemed matter-of-fact.

"But how much?"

"Enough that she has stepped into the political arena. But I think the integrity of her ego has remained intact." Nwm landed upon the ground, and resumed his human form.

"Unlike Jovol-Teppu?"

"Unlike Ortwin-Ortwine," Nwm smiled. "Teppu is…well, who knows, really?"


**


Eadric drew alongside Prince Tagur. "Highness, if I might have a word?"

Tagur scowled. _Highness_? This man – if such he still was – retained an odd respect for conventional forms. Or perhaps he was simply the consummate diplomat. There was no particular need for the _Ahma_ to address him at all – Tagur was under no illusion that his presence was anything other than ceremonial. There was nothing that Tagur could actually _do_ to influence the course of events. He sighed, and nodded.

"I should like to speak with you regarding the possibility of things…ah…coming to blows, shall we say."

"I’m sure I shall die very quickly," Tagur smiled.

"I suspect you will have as good a chance as I," Eadric said wrily, "considering I will be their principal target."

"Ah, yes," Tagur half-apologized. "There is that."

"Before we meet them, there will be a period of _preparation_."

Tagur raised an eyebrow.

"It is customary to fortify oneself as best as possible before this kind of parley – the kind that can degenerate quickly into a bloodbath. Especially if Mostin is present."

"Are you quite serious? Why is this madman even involved?"

"I wish I knew," Eadric groaned. "In any event, do not be concerned that you will be ineffective. You will be bolstered with numerous spells, and will prove quite handy. I suspect you'll find things more evenly-matched than you fear."

"You may spare my pride in this matter, _Ahma_."

"Trust me. A large part of me hopes that it does come to swords. When I get the opportunity to hit something in the head, the odds tend to favour me." 

"Have you considered simply striking first?"

"Oh yes," Eadric nodded. "I consider it all the time."


**

Ortwine rode on ahead, utterly self-absorbed.

_I want my sword. My Heedless Githla_. She realized that her desire for the weapon bordered on obsession, and shrugged.

Ripples in consciousness, to which Ortwine seemed to be becoming increasingly sensitive, spoke to the sidhe of the Green in motion: Nizkur was awakening, the ancient spirits of the land stirring. In the south, feys and elementals were agitating.

Despite herself, Ortwine felt the Viridity drawing her in. The lure was impossible to resist, as much because she felt it was stemming _from_ her as calling _to_ her. It made her uncomfortable.

_What do I want?_ It was the perennial question for her. Her existence was so often a jaded malaise. An ennui which had persisted through four successive incarnations. A sword? A throne? Divinity? All was empty. Ortwine turned her head, and gazed over her shoulder.

Nwm, who rode behind her, stared impassively at her.

Ortwine's eyes narrowed. "Your religious machinations will not determine my purpose," she said acidly.

"I seek only to inform it," Nwm smiled.

Ortwine glowered. "Fine. But I want my sword, first."


**


Mulissu floated above the balcony before an immense throng; they screamed in frenzied adulation. _Redemptrix_, they called her. _Goddess_. The euphoria was intoxicating.

_Temporal power is dangerous_, she observed silently. _Still, I will not have my city _tampered_ with_. The savant raised a hand, and an excited hush fell.

"I am Mulissu, your new Tyrant," Mulissu announced. The proclamation was greeted with rapturous applause. The witch waited for it to subside.

"My apologies to any council members present for the inconvenience of your displacement; rest assured that you will remain unharmed, and your mundane duties will be mostly unaffected.

"You will find me largely benign, if somewhat aloof; my occasional fits of pique seldom result in malicious transmogrifications. Please refrain from engaging in civil uprisings, as such would be doomed to failure. Your day-to day activities are of no concern to me, and I have no interest in managing your affairs beyond providing you with protection. Continue to pay your taxes. Put your children to bed at the normal time. For the moment, you are _safe_."




*The numerological significance of the Enforcer's magnification was not lost on members of the Cheshnite delegation. Enitharmon was said to have been _three times thrice_ magnified – i.e. to have been bestowed with nine divine ranks – for the purpose of expelling Oronthon's Adversary from heaven.


----------



## Lazybones

A nice Saturday-morning surprise. Thanks, Sep!

I've read this story in its entirety several times now, and the only thing it lacks (thus far) is _resolution_. I don't mind the gaps since the last break (although the resumption of the story mid-stream and the relating of numerous key events in flashback are a bit disorienting at times), and I'm sure I stand with others here in stating that I look forward to seeing how events play out. I think that this challenge of resolving a tale in a manner that lives up to the buildup is one of the big challenges that confront many excellent writers, as their casts swell and plot threads become cluttered; c.f. Jordan, Martin, etc. 

But given that this tale is provided _gratis_ and is always compelling, I will wait eagerly with the queued ENWorlders for each update. 

And I am curious if there is still a game behind the story, or if the original players still have any input into the continuing development of their characters.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

> I am curious if there is still a game behind the story, or if the original players still have any input into the continuing development of their characters.




Yes, but not conventionally. There were long periods of down-time, emailed games, a change of player (Ortwine), and general statements of intent which had to be fitted as events by me into the campaign. Some things have been glossed over ignored entirely. I've tried to speed up the pace of the narrative when things were slow, and slow it down when things were fast. I've taken huge license with the metaplot, of course - its going on three years, I think.


----------



## Knightfall

Lazybones said:
			
		

> A nice Saturday-morning surprise. Thanks, Sep!



Agreed.

This story always makes me think. And it has given me great ideas for my own campaign world.


----------



## Rackhir

Horacio always did have the magic touch.

Thanks for the update Sep!


----------



## grodog

Thanks Sep!  How's life treating you?  When you get a chance, do please drop me an email with your current contact info:  I have a writing project I'd like you to consider (not Wyre-related, _per se_).


----------



## Greybar

Huzzah!

Two questions for the Sepulphiles, in part for my poor recollection:
1) Did anyone ever put together a map of Wyre's geography?
2) I thought Sonellion was slain on her plane in the Abyss, not in Afqithan?  Or are the two conjoined in some manner now?  Or is another demoness's grave being referred to?

Does anyone else think Jack Vance when reading Sep's writing?

I guess I need to find that thread that has all of the Wyrish updates and read it again from some point in the middle. 

Anyway, thanks for the update.  Wonderful to see it!


----------



## Cheiromancer

1. The map is attached to the first post of "that thread that has all of the Wyrish updates".

2. Soneillon was killed during the battle of Afqithan.  Said battle occurred off-screen.

Sep is better than Vance.

I'll bump the other thread.


----------



## The Forsaken One

*rejoices*

Awsome . NWM is just the best ever tbh!

Thanks Sep!

With this SH's quality, I'd gladly pay you 25 Euro's a hardcover now and then.

Cheers.


----------



## d'Anconia

WoHOOOOO!!!

Thanks for the update Sep!

Keep up the good work.


----------



## Felix

Horacio strikes again.

And I like the description of the three philosophies at the beginning. It feels like a new start to the story.


----------



## grodog

Sep, can you please make some updates in the Rogues Gallery, if for some reason a SH update isn't possible in the near-term?


----------



## Kayl

I am now breaking a long period of lurking to say thanks, for sharing this amazing piece of campaign building and writing.

The only downside to this is that the campaign i'm running now looks like a tiny stain on a sheet of paper in comparison. Hopefully it will get better, also due to the inspiration you provided, Sepulchrave.


----------



## Gez

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> Sep is better than Vance.




Vance is old and nearing death now, so I sure hope Sep is in better shape!

But Vance had a massive novel which featured evil wankmen, as that's a level of awesome that is hard to beat.


----------



## Bloodcookie

Hey, I came across something tangentially related to this SH that I thought might be of interest: the first issue of Wolfgang Baur's _Kobold Quarterly_ has a piece on Titivillus [sic], "the Scribe of Hell". The article treats him a bit differently than Sep did (he serves Mammon, rather than Dispater, for example, and is much more focused on purely bureaucratic matters), but it provides an interesting perspective - and a stat-block, if you're into that kind of thing; CR 24


----------



## grodog

In case folks missed the Rogues Gallery updates:  http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?t=5652&page=16&pp=40


----------



## Alex

*Keep on writing.*



			
				Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> Sep is better than Vance.




Agreed.  Please keep writing, Sep.  You're an inspiration to many of us.


----------



## Knightfall

grodog said:
			
		

> In case folks missed the Rogues Gallery updates:  http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?t=5652&page=16&pp=40



I concur, if you need your Wyre fix then check out Sep's rogue gallery forum. He's been posting like crazy in it.

Here's a list of the recent updates...


Gihaahia, the Enforcer
Narh
Tahl the Incorruptible
Ghom
Horrid Servitor of Ghom
Twenty-Limbed Attendant
Sibud
Tholhaluk
Yeshe the Binder


----------



## Fruit

A friend linked me to this story hour about a week ago, promising it would redefine my definitions of fantasy literature. I scoffed, of course, and I didn't stop scoffing through the first few posts with their somewhat workmanlike writing style and frequent digressions into metagame discussion. 

 I now realise my mistake, heh. As the story delivered and the writer got into his stride, this has delivered exactly what I was promised. A redefinition of fantasy literature. Other people have been saying it, but it bears repeating... this stuff invites comparison with Steven Erikson, Jack Vance, George R.R. Martin - at first. And then as you read on you realise that no, this stuff blows those guys out of the water. 

 Sounds hyperbolic, but there it is. The best fantasy writing I've ever read is available free on the internet, and it even comes with detailed stats from the D&D game that birthed it. I'll definitely be telling all my friends. 

 Thanks, Sepulchrave, for sharing this with us. I'll now be joining the masses hoping excitedly for new updates, and searching in every new fantasy author I read to find some reflection or shadow of the depth that I've found in your writing.


----------



## Atanatotatos

I must say, this is one of my very first posts on these forums eve though I've been reading several story hours for years, already... and I've never really expressed my appreciation, no, my admiration, for lack of a better term, of Sep's work. I know Im just one of many, and this doesn't carry much weight.... but... well, I really think you're a Writer, sep. With the capitals. I appreciate your finest thoughts as a novels reader, a comic books reader, and a student of filosophy, of which there is plenty of in your opus. hope you really do publish some day.
(and sorry for my probably bad english)


----------



## The Forsaken One

Atanatotatos said:
			
		

> I must say, this is one of my very first posts on these forums eve though I've been reading several story hours for years, already... and I've never really expressed my appreciation, no, my admiration, for lack of a better term, of Sep's work. I know Im just one of many, and this doesn't carry much weight.... but... well, I really think you're a Writer, sep. With the capitals. I appreciate your finest thoughts as a novels reader, a comic books reader, and a student of filosophy, of which there is plenty of in your opus. hope you really do publish some day.
> (and sorry for my probably bad english)



Cheers and welcome to the world above at Enworld . Never enough fans on the Sep bandwagon!

Did you check out the Character/NPC/Spells etc thread in the rogues gallery (plots places and rogues subforum) of this storyhour? If not go check it out, threadname speaks for itself .


----------



## Atanatotatos

yeah thanks! as I said, i've actually been reading Sep for years now, even though i never showed up.... sep's rogue gallery is incredible as well!! can't wait for new stuff...


----------



## The Forsaken One

Best of wishes for a happy newyear everyone!

*BUMP*


----------



## Son_of_Thunder

Ya know, the old year has gone and this thread should die in peace without you mooks BUMPING it.


----------



## Avarice

Son_of_Thunder said:
			
		

> Ya know, the old year has gone and this thread should die in peace without you mooks BUMPING it.




Considering that Sepulchrave still updates this thread, albeit infrequently, the odds that his loyal readers are just going to let it die are pretty much slim and none.  If it bothers you to see this thread on the front page, perhaps you'd be better off posting in story hours that you actually enjoy, rather than posting snarky comments in ones that you apparently don't (thus putting them at the top again).  Just a thought.


----------



## Elephant

Avarice said:
			
		

> Considering that Sepulchrave still updates this thread, albeit infrequently, the odds that his loyal readers are just going to let it die are pretty much slim and none.  If it bothers you to see this thread on the front page, perhaps you'd be better off posting in story hours that you actually enjoy, rather than posting snarky comments in ones that you apparently don't (thus putting them at the top again).  Just a thought.




Err...I read Thunder's comment as humorous, Avarice - not snarky.


----------



## Avarice

Elephant said:
			
		

> Err...I read Thunder's comment as humorous, Avarice - not snarky.




That could be, and if so I apologize.  Not seeing a smiley in his post, I jumped to the obvious conclusion.  I'll admit, I never really understood why thread bumping seems to annoy some people, and I suppose that led me to be more than a little snarky myself in my reply.

So, I suppose that since this post really doesn't contribute anything to this thread, what I'm really trying to say is BUMP!


----------



## Atraiyu

*Outstanding Work*

It's good to see Sepulchrave  is still active on the forums even if the story updates come slow.

Without making this too long I just want you to know that I can't stand reading fiction, but when ever I come back to this story I can't stop until i've read it all. All 730 pages or so of it in Word.  What you've done that I think most story tellers in any medium screw up is you've made us love these characters.

I actually care what happens to them.  That's why I and so many people check these boards so frequently.  

What I get afraid of is that one day you'll get to tired of it.  Or a major life change comes along and side swipes you away from writing these stories and sharing them with us.  Leaving us forever wondering the fate of Eadric, Mostin and all the rest. Then chaos will reign on these boards...riots, looting, the works.  

If that day ever comes please for the love of all that is good and holy give us a final post that summarizes what happened for the rest of the game.  Answer the big questions and give us closure.  

We appreciate the fantastic work you do.


----------



## Son_of_Thunder

Elephant said:
			
		

> Err...I read Thunder's comment as humorous, Avarice - not snarky.




Ya, I should have put a smiley. Will do next time when I BUMP it.


----------



## Tal Rasha

Well, the story hour has, for me, come to a pause more abruptly than I would have hoped for. I... well I haven't really analyzed how excellent it is yet, seeing how I haven't actually had time to think, eat or sleep for want of getting it done. Long has it been since something gripped me to such a degree that I spent 8 hours a day reading it, AFTER my 9 to 5 at work.

While I'm thinking, I'd just like to commend you, Sepulchrave, on your synthesis of religious and philosophical principles. And the temptation of Eadric (by Titivilus) literally made me stop reading and go to a quiet place to ponder the paradox.

Getting in line for the next update with all the other sad bastards,

Tal Rasha


----------



## Celtavian

*re*

I haven't read this story in ages. Writing is still good. I've always wondered if Sepulchrave intended on removing the DnDisms from it and forming his own world for use as a vehicle for his fiction. I've been tapping away on my own novel for quite some time now, it is an incredible amount of work. The hardest part of that work is world development as a fantasy world must be explained to a new reader for them to fully enjoy it. Since Seps work is interspered with DnDisms it would take quite a bit of work to backwards engineer it for a non-DnD audience. I know you wouldn't want to write for Wizards because they pay poorly compared to the amount of money you could make with full ownership of your world.

Still a good read and the best on this forum. Not sure if you are already pursuing it, but you have some writing talent that could  be developed into a career. 

I wonder if Destan still writes.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Galda I*

 


The boy with the olive skin and tousled hair smiled, pulled up a chair, and sat. His appearance was as one scarce out of adolescence. He looked hard at Shomei, and absorbed every detail surrounding her in an instant. Except one.

"Why did you reject _Saizhan_?" He asked. "Forgive my abruptness.  But, frankly, this question still puzzles me. It was a bold gambit; I only wish I knew what prize it was that you sought. You may refrain from using honorifics when addressing me; I am already surrounded by sycophants. Please speak openly; treat me as any you would any other in conversation."

"I am not sure of my motive," Shomei admitted, her mind reeling. "It wasn't rational, and may have simply been an act of perversity. Do you think my choice was wrong?"

"No. I suspect that your Will directed you to act without the permission of your mind."

"To precipitate this meeting?"

"How should I know?" The other asked. "It is your Will, not mine. In any case, you are now _here_. Outcast with the rest of us."

"Might I inquire where _here_ is, precisely?"

"In Caïna, for the time being. Astaroth purchased you from Amaimon – but at my instruction. Actually, the _Akesoli_ were also dispatched at my instruction." 

"I have been treated well," Shomei remarked, "aside from the initial flaying, of course. I had assumed that I would already be enduring unending tortures. When you say 'for the time being,' am I to be moved elsewhere?"

The boy nodded. "To the library, in Cocytus. If you so wish."

_If I so wish?_

"I would never stifle your potential, Shomei. You have earned rights that few others have won. Your loyalty has been unwavering; not to me, but to the _idea_. This is rare, and precious."

Her pulse hammered in her head. "I fear duplicity," she said.

"Your honesty is likewise remarkable," the other seemed amused. "Perhaps the _Sela_ has been a positive influence on you."

Shomei glanced down at her hand, and gripped the skin between her thumb and index finger. "This form is…"

"Infernal," the youth nodded. "You cannot go back now, unless called. You must abide by the terms of the Interdict and the Accord."

Suddenly, everything she had foreseen in the _web of motes_ made sense.

He stood. "Seek out the devils Agei and Ugales; you will discover their temperaments are reflective, not unlike your own. I suspect you will find discourse with them productive. Avoid the petty squabbles of the Dukes; you are above them. Hell is what you make of it, Shomei."

"I think I fear your mercy more than your wrath," Shomei remarked wrily.

The Adversary raised an eyebrow. "And so you should. I am the Left Hand of God, after all."

*

After he had departed, she sat in contemplation for a long while before rising and exiting the chamber. The corridor beyond was empty and echoing; she turned left, and walked past open embrasures: they looked out upon a vast glacier beneath a sky which crackled darkly. The air was frigid, so much so that even her newly-endowed flesh began to feel numb: away from the strongholds, she knew few devils could endure Caïna for long. Below, the damned wailed, immersed in ice.

Shomei turned left again, and descended a flight of many thousand steps; she noticed that the darkness was absolute, although her sight was unimpeded. Finally, she reached the chamber at the bottom. Devils abased themselves. A mirror stood before her.

As they draped her cloak over her shoulders, slid her bracelet over her wrist, and pressed her rod into her hand, Shomei gazed at her reflection: aside from a complex device upon her forehead – which she knew marked her as _His_ – it seemed unchanged. She touched the brand, but felt nothing unusual. She knew its import, a dire message to those who could read such things: _Do not interfere with this one_.

She passed swiftly through the mirror, and the fires of Nessus welled around her.


***

An ancient stone circle on a low hill west of Galda – a small village which nestled in a valley at the southernmost tip of Scir Cellod – bore the uncertain honour of being the meeting point between the Cheshnite delegation and the Wyrish embassy. It was technically outside of the borders of Wyre proper, within the fief of a Marchioness named Siliste; the noblewoman's family had rendered a hefty annual tribute to Morne for more than a hundred years in order to retain their precarious right of self-government. The markland sat upon Hynt Coched, the main artery which ran south to Jashat, and enjoyed healthy tax perquisites from the trade which passed through it. 

Outside of the _quiescence of the spheres_ – hardened now by Mostin to resist _disjunctions_ and _superb dispellings_ – the Aethers sang with the horns of archons, and battalions of devas were massing to the north. Messengers from interested parties reconnoitered the edge of the _quiescence_; temporary ethereal presidios were quickly established nearby by several _Ugras_ of terrible power bringing blackness: the vomit of Cheshne. 

Inside, the Green writhed, potent and oblivious.

Eadric's stomach was turning. Mostin, attuned to his spell, felt ripples along its periphery.

In his time, the _Ahma_ had engaged in more than a few parleys with demons, devils and other monstrosities. For the sake of his sanity, he carefully censored his awareness of those present at Galda. None conformed to the images which he had formed in his mind – despite his best efforts to limit his expectations in that regard. 

They manifested themselves at first as a great, dark cloud which billowed around a lone rider – Anumid the Mouthpiece – before relaxing into more choate forms which intimated at distinct personalities: demons, gods, godlings, undead, hierophants, theurges, great warriors of unguessable age. 

As the two parties gazed at one another, a long silence endured: a furious exchange of thought, speculation and surmise consumed each group at once.

Mostin reflected. It was all about the reservoirs, he was beginning to realize. And the divinations. Each transvalent spell which would be cast – and they would shake the world; of that, Mostin had no doubt – was drawn against limited resources. They would need to be played carefully to maximum effect, like pieces in some vast strategic game. And to do that required foreknowledge. And Mostin had the _web of motes_. But they had the cabals. It was a strange, asymmetric balance.

The Alienist scowled. Their wards were utterly inscrutable, although Mostin had no doubt that each was vastly augmented, laden with protective magics. Whilst he had expected no less, it made gauging their strength impossible; the insight of Hlioth and the gut of Eadric were their best tools in reading any purpose in the Cheshnites. He hoped that his own party was as veiled. A nagging suspicion in him was that they were not. Transvalent divinations employed by the other might break through. How secure was the _quiescence_? He was sure that he could feel things testing its potency. Mostin was feeling acutely paranoid. His fingers were getting twitchy.

The _Ahma_'s gaze was drawn first to Yeshe, who had entered the world when magic was young and abundant. With each breath she drew there seemed fused the threat of explosion. Clad in adamant and black iron, and bearing ancient weapons of destructive potency, Eadric quickly estimated her mettle in battle as _formidable_. And her magical art, he knew, surpassed that of Mostin, by the Alienist's own admission. She seemed youthful and hale; dynamic and energized. _Each new act of annihilation is fresh and exciting to you._ The Void – and Eadric knew its signs well now – rested easily upon her; an undertow of black despair which grasped at frail sanity. All seemed cowed by her.

[Mostin]: (Concern). She is no arcanist; I willfully misconstrued. This woman is a High Priestess, so to speak. I didn't realize that her agenda was fuelled by such zeal.

[Ortwine]: Perhaps Eadric can seduce her? She seems his type.

[Eadric]: Perhaps Ortwine could refrain from sarcasm for a moment?

[Ortwine]: I am here under duress. Permit me at least my wit. 

[Hlioth]: Silence, imbeciles!

Sibud – who did not breathe – emanated corruption and decadence in waves, and life wilted around him. His skin, grey and cracked, resembled shrivelled leather which moulted a fine dust; obscene black fingernails dripped a caustic venom, which smoked as it struck the withering grass at his feet. As Eadric's vision rested upon his form, he knew that only the vampire's resolute will maintained his quiddity, preventing his dissolution into a cloud of atoms. But into Sibud's face, the _Ahma_ could not bring himself to look; it haunted the margin of his sight as the memory of his own death.

For Nwm, the vampire in particular was anathema. Only Threxu, the Wasted Nymph had before evoked that magnitude of revulsion. Despite it, Nwm seemed genuinely calm and confident; Eadric could not guess the reason why, but Mostin sensed subtle shiftings in magical attitudes with his _arcane sight_. Nwm and Hlioth and Mesikammi had prepared some contingency, no doubt. 

[Mostin]: Evocation?

[Nwm]: And Necromancy.

[Mostin]:!? Are you mad? What good will that do? Half of them are dead already.

[Nwm]: You might be surprised. Uedii thinks dead things should stay properly _dead_. I'm not about to violate the truce, but I'm going to blast them all if they try anything, even if it kills us stone dead. 

[Mesikammi]: (Clapping) Supernova! It will be beautiful! I will reincarnate as an unfettered wyrd; I have already chosen.

[Eadric]: Is she serious?

[Nwm]: Of course. 

[Mostin]: If you die, stay within the _quiescence_! There are things beyond it which might eat your soul.

[Hlioth]: Let them try. They'll get indigestion.

The presences of Naatha and Choach – as foul and potent as they might be – Eadric could accept and absorb. Then the _Ahma_ beheld another, behind Yeshe. A rider in similar harness to the Binder, but who sat sufficiently removed from the others within the group to indicate a disdain for the proceedings. An image of fear and bloodshed contrived in the mind of War itself. His first urge was to throw himself on the ground, and weep.

[Eadric]: Who is _he_?

[Mostin]: _She_. Visuit.

[Eadric]: We cannot prevail against such as her. We are overmatched. Why is she here?

[Daunton]: She brings war. She _is_ war. 

[Nwm]: (Smiling)

[Eadric]: I fail to see the humour, and sometimes I wonder who amongst us is the most unhinged.

[Nwm]: Her horse regards you with hope.

[Eadric]: That is small…

But the _Ahma_ caught the animal's eye, and immediately fell in love.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Galda II*

Anumid spoke first. His suavity was effortless.

"The Oronthonians. The local fertility goddess also seems well represented. As do your nascent magi. What of Oronthon's Adversary? Does the _Ahma_ speak for him also?" 

"I am the Breath of God," Eadric stated calmly. "I speak for all present; and for the _Sela_, and for the Celestial Host, and for Oronthon. If the Adversary has elected me his representative also, he has not informed me of my appointment."  

"Your claims may be tested," Anumid smiled.

Ortwine sighed. "You're already boring me. Make your case, and go. I have better things to do."

"Silence, sprite!" Sibud revealed himself from shadow. "Your immortal pretensions are pathetic! The slaadi already gather to reclaim _Heedless._"

"I think not. Afqithan is now inviolate. But these are facts: I will soon be a goddess, the _vorpal_ sword is mine, and you are a vampire. To fear me would be prudent."

"The Ancient One does not regard divinity as a particularly noteworthy achievement," Yeshe's tone was conciliatory but didactic as she stepped forward; somehow she avoided condescension. "It is one path among many, and carries its own limitations, as you will discover if your quest proves fruitful. Immortality is merely immortality. Power is merely power."  

Whether by the term _Ancient One_ Yeshe meant Sibud, or Temenun, or Cheshne – or perhaps Demogorgon – was not clear.

"As to making cases," Yeshe continued, "it was you who arranged this meeting, not we. State the Wyrish argument, if you please. I am anxious to hear it."

"Why does the Tiger absent himself?" Eadric asked.

"Perhaps he is secretly trysting with Nehael," Yeshe smiled. "Or your _Sela_. None of us here are so deluded to think that this represents the sum of relevant interests, _Ahma_, so why pretend otherwise? Unlocking the morass of paradigms is central to this issue."

"You demonstrate an appreciation of a larger process," Nwm was surprised.

"Tell me more of my understanding, mortal. Your wisdom overwhelms me."

[Ortwine]: I'll admit, I'm starting to rather like this one.

"Enough!" Anumid interrupted. "Mistress, the Mouthpiece demands your silence. Lord Sibud, a little respect if you please."

Both immortals withdrew.

Eadric – guileless – could not help but evince surprise. _What is the relationship here?_ Evidently more complex than he had first assumed. Or was this some ruse to deflect his attention?

Anumid smiled. "I speak with Cheshne's Voice, and broker the power of the convocations; do not underestimate me."

"You have much to learn in the art of dissemblance," Ortwine observed.

[Eadric]: No, he lies almost as well as you.

Anumid ignored her, and addressed the _Ahma_. "Why did you solicit this meeting?"

"To see for myself, first-hand," Eadric answered honestly. "And in the vain hope that, if I asked politely, you might quietly depart from this continent."

"Doubtless, you consider us very wicked, _Ahma_," Anumid smiled grimly.

Eadric was cold. "The Thalassine states. Do you intend to send them to war against Wyre?"

Anumid was unreadable. "You must _deal_ with the reality of us as you see fit, _Ahma_. I think you already know the answer to that question, but forgive me if I don't make you privvy to our counsels."

"Are we negotiating?" Eadric asked gruffly. "If so, then a statement of purpose would seem in order."

Yeshe gestured, and Anumid nodded and withdrew. Her manner was starkly different, her arrogance self-contained, as though she needed no external referents. "The South will be mobilizing for war soon. Wyre is large, but sparsely populated in comparison. Your wizards have censored themselves. Your Claviger has lapsed into a coma, and invested its power in its thug."

Eadric realized that she spoke the truth.

The Alienist sensed something akin to a _moment of prescience_ flicker over Yeshe, but far deeper. Raw power she had, in abundance. Millennia of honing her magical skills. Mostin swallowed.

"And apparently, I am better informed than you on the subject," She read them all in an instant.

[Nehael]: The Claviger has recently entered a state of somnolence. Gihaahia has been fully activated.

[Mostin]: ?! What the…?

She wasn't anywhere near.

[Nehael]: Yeshe inadvertently invoked me. 

Mostin scowled. Yeshe withdrew again.

"War is never inevitable," Anumid smiled. "It is a waste of resources, and if it can be avoided, we should be the happier."

Visuit snorted in contempt.

"For the most part," the Voice of Cheshne shot a look toward The Butcher before continuing. "If Wyre's mobilization is halted, and the Wyrish extend the same courtesy to the Cheshnites as they do other faiths – since the disestablishment of Orthodoxy – then a compromise is within reach."

[Hlioth]: They wish to establish temples within Wyre's borders.

[Eadric]: (Incredulous) _Why?_ 

[Nwm]: Why does anyone seek to further the cause of their religion, Ed? They think that they have the right answer, and you do not.

Eadric laughed aloud, to the surprise of many present. Layers of deceptions, threats and counterthreats suddenly seemed vacuous and irrelevant. "I was under the impression that the Cult of Cheshne had no missionary aspirations; the Mysteries are not for the cattle, as it were. What has changed? And why in the North? Shûth is a more fertile ground in every conceivable way."

In his gut, he already knew the answer: to arrest the spread of _Saizhan_.

Anumid smiled. "Consider the proposal. It will be you who chooses in the end, _Ahma_. The _Sela_ is too passive; your grandees too tractable, and dependent on you. Your word is law."

***

Fumaril, although settled since ancient times, had only in the last generation risen to pre-eminence amongst the Thalassine cities. Sturdy merchantmen from its three harbours – clinker-built and lateen-rigged – plied the seas with oils, glassware, amygdala firewines, and all manner of more exotic goods. They sailed to Harland to procure fur and ivory; to Bedesh for silks, and the exquisite confections in demand amongst the Thalassine nobility; and to Shûth for its gems and gold, its secrets, and for _kschiff_. 

Mulissu – together with her clutch of wind-sorcerers and elemental priestesses – had evoked an impenetrable barrier, four miles in diameter, completely isolating the city. It rapidly became clear that, for many, 'going about one's business' might prove difficult or impossible. The witch's solution was pragmatic and unburdened by ethical sentiment: she pacified much of the population with a powerful enchantment, succoured Ulao for aid, and instructed dozens of indentured djinn to fulfill any needs the citizenry might have for food, shelter and entertainment. 

The holiday would continue until further notice.

With the burden of governance eased, Mulissu and her council turned their attention to devising a concrete strategy to deal with the Temple of Cheshne. The defenses would demand much of her energy: her wards against intrusion would need to be renewed every few days, and each casting would diminish her own reservoir. She wondered how long she could keep it up. 

Jashat was a mere forty miles distant, and the Shûthite cabals – as best she could estimate – might invoke magicks a full order of magnitude greater than her own. Her aery charisma lent a dubious cohesion to the unlikely band: mages from Pandicule, clergy of Jeshi within Fumaril, two sylphs – Zimodee and Vouve – prior acquaintances of the eccentric sorcerer, Ehieu. She wooed a number of renegade Wyrish wizards – conjurers who had left the aegis of the Claviger to continue their practice – with the promise of an increased spell repertoire, and access to the names of obscure but accommodating elemental allies. 

Upon due reflection, the savant herself began devising a spell which would conjure Ha'uh – an air primal of unimaginable power – to defend the city if it were assailed.

***

Ortwine kneeled, bowed her head, and lifted her palms upwards. She felt the weight of the blade as it came to rest in her hands: it was light and delicate; so wieldy, she knew. Gingerly, she raised her eyes to meet it: it was exquisite, with traceries of gold etched into black adamant. The hilt was replete with corundum and perfect moonstones.

Jaliere, God of the Forge scowled. "The weapon is accursed; it may be my finest work, but it's also the one I deplore the most. The intelligence which inhabits it is warped and schizoid."

Ortine stood, brandished the scimitar with a flourish, and slid it into its scabbard. She bowed perfunctorily. "My thanks, Jaliere. I will take better care of it than…"

"It will betray you; it despises you."

"I understand it better than you think," Ortwine smiled coldly.

"You understand nothing!" Jaliere snorted.

"You are becoming tedious, Jaliere."

The god acted quicker than lightning. In an instant he dwarfed Ortwine, and with titanic strength, grabbed the fey by the neck and hurled her against a stone column. She struck it with such force that it cracked.

"Fool," Jaliere bellowed. Flame issued from him in roaring sheets. "This sword screams its agony to the spheres. It will demand much of your energy to keep it subdued."

Ortwine rose slowly and easily, dusting herself. "Your deific tantrums do not move me. As I say, I understand _Heedless_ better than you think." She sighed. "Jaliere, I appreciate your work, and Sisperi would be impoverished were you to leave it, but I will cut you down if ever you lay a finger on me again, be you god or no. This is a weapon worthy of my cause; I have no doubt I will never see its peer again."

"Cause?" Jaliere thundered. "You are your only cause."

"That is quite true," Ortwine nodded. "But in some things – as in this case, for instance – I also honor my word: I am perverse like that. I am departing for the underworld forthwith."

"It pains me that the future of my kin rests in your hands."

"And I am aggrieved by your lack of faith," Ortwine sighed. "We are speaking of _my_ divinity, here. Whether earned or stolen, believe me when I say it is utmost in my thought. Consider, if you admitted Ninit to your pantheon, why am I such a terrible prospect?"

"Ninit is more ancient than any of us; you and she hardly bear comparison."

"And I will be the youngest amongst you: make way for new blood, Jaliere. The Nireem need revitalizing; I might prove more of an asset than you think. Perhaps I can stir you from your apathy."

"The apathy you perceive is the weariness of ten millennia of war," Lai entered unannounced. "Still, you may have a point. Do not fail us, Ortwine. And heed Jaliere: beware the sword. Its moods are more opaque than you guess."

***

Ilistet's armour was rent. The succubus bled smoking ichor from a dozen minor wounds and her perfect skin, where exposed, was shredded and raw – lacerated by powerful sonics. Around her, maimed demons mewed pitifully: hundreds of bar-lgura, amid a seething ocean of dretch. She cursed them, and screamed at them to hold as the maurezhi and abyssal ghouls tore into their disordered ranks. From above, varrangoin rained down spells and darts: the same mercenaries, Ilistet noted ruefully, alongside whom she had fought only a few months before.

_Graz'zt should have paid them more, or at least promised it._

The battle was already lost, the succubus observed. Air superiority was everything, and – predictably – her chasme had scattered like flies. She prepared to flee.

Abruptly, a _gate_ opened next to her. She was drawn through irresistibly, into a chamber thick with yellow smoke, which issued from a dozen censers.

"Greetings," Rimilin smiled. He wore a long ceremonial robe of scarlet and gold, and bore a staff of ivory which Ilistet viewed suspiciously.

"State your terms, eunuch," the demoness growled.

The Acolyte of the Skin said nothing. His ego swollen by potent magic, Rimilin _dominated_ the Herald of Azzagrat with a transvalent compulsion.


***

The night before their departure for Ruk, the _Ahma_ dreamed. It was altogether lucid, and thoroughly uncomfortable.

It was a warm afternoon, and the sun was hazy. He sat upon a grey destrier, the flanks of which glistened with sweat, and trotted in a wide circle; inside a heavy casque, he felt beads of his own perspiration trickle down his cheeks. Glancing down, he noticed that he wore full harness, enamelled with gold and serpentine. Nearby, a knight lay upon the ground; Eadric knew that he had recently unhorsed him. Spectators were clapping; the applause was muted and genteel. He glanced up toward a box, where two indistinct figures sat in conversation, and urged his mount forward.

Eadric presented his lance, and a lady whose features he could not discern grasped its shaft, tying a scarf of black silk below its head. She tossed a garland of black flowers to him. Despite the vagueness of her features, he knew who she was.

_Why do you vex me, still?_ He wanted to ask. Instead, he turned and prepared to joust with another opponent.

A dozen bouts later, and he was still unbeaten. Throughout, he had remained conscious of the shapes in the booth, but had averted his eyes. Now she sat alone. Wearily, Eadric dismounted and pulled off his gauntlets and helm, handing them to a squire who stood waiting for him; dust and grime caked his face and hands. He ascended a flight of wooden steps into the box and sat upon a chair which creaked under his weight. It was cooler there and shaded; a breeze stirred as if in further response to his thoughts. She silently handed him a glass of iced tea. A long moment passed.

"Is this all that remains of you?" Eadric finally asked.

Soneillon smiled her maddening smile. Her features had crystallized. The _Ahma_ had the distinct impression that, even by acknowledging her existence, he had lent her a little more substance.

"I am Void; without form. You perceive an echo."

"You gnaw at the edges of my mind," he sighed. "And many of those considered wiser than I have advised me to release myself from you."

"Your reluctance to do so is revealing. Perhaps your prescience runs deeper than theirs."

Eadric felt a chill; the merest hint of a veiled threat.

Soneillon spoke grimly. "Yeshe is searching for me in Dream; I cannot elude her for long. She wishes to send me against you. She believes I am your weakness. A chink in your armour."

"You are no more," Eadric grimaced. "You cannot harm me."

"Annihilation is no obstacle to me, Eadric. I am birthed and rebirthed in Nothingness. That much at least should be clear to you by now." Her voice carried a note of desperation, and she forced the scarf into his hand, closing his fist tight about it. "I do not wish thralldom, to be bound as an _Ugra_. Remember me: I would be your strength, not your enemy. Invoke me. Breathe into me, _Ahma_. Bring me back, before she does."

He awoke clutching the scarf, and vomited.

Shortly afterwards, Nwm entered and viewed him suspiciously. "Perhaps your returning to Afqithan was a mistake, after all."

Eadric stared back. "Things are more complex than you suspect."

Nwm smiled sympathetically. "That is how I prefer it. Come. We are ready. Rhul will accompany us."

"Before we depart, I need to contact Canec. I am changing my colours, and my device."

Nwm cocked his head.

"Green and gold," Eadric explained. "Tree and Sun. Viridity and _Saizhan_."


----------



## Rackhir

An update! Sweet! Thanks Sep.


----------



## Joshua Randall

> Before we depart, I need to contact Canec. I am changing my colours, and my device."
> 
> Nwm cocked his head.
> 
> "Green and gold," Eadric explained. "Tree and Sun. *Viridity and Saizhan*."



Nice.


----------



## Kaodi

I think the beginning of the end has now been heralded...


----------



## grodog

Excellent updates, Sep!  Now I have to go back and re-read some more, to re-establish context, to jog my lagging memory.


----------



## Knightfall

Amazing, simply amazing.


----------



## Olive

Nice. And not something I ever expected to see!


----------



## Roman

Great stuff - I am thrilled to see the story continue and look forward to seeing how the situation progresses.


----------



## Atanatotatos

Thanks Sep!

Now... i guess we have six more months to re-read the whole story hour...


----------



## Felix

All through the updates (_Updates!_ ) I was having an evilgasm. Until:



> I am changing my colours...
> 
> ...
> 
> Green and gold,




Eadric roots for *GEORGE MASON UNIVERSITY*! _GO PATRIOTS_!


----------



## Nightbreeze

weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Updates!!!
(happydance)

I wonder...how much is Sepulchrave ahead with his real life story?


----------



## Jeremy

Thanks Sep!  Your work is brilliant as always and never fails to entertain.


----------



## Rackhir

For those interested the current version of Eadric is up in the Rogues Gallery thread here.

http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?t=5652&goto=newpost


----------



## Sepulchrave II

The overland passage to the _Saivo_ – the entrance from Sisperi to its gloomy underworld, Rûk – was across a frigid and despoiled land filled with twisted trees, many of which had come to harbour malign intelligence. They _wind walked_, and although the _Ahma_ was sure that they might have sped there immediately, he suspected that impressing the full magnitude of the corruption was important to Nwm. Or perhaps manifesting through one of the blighted trees was not an experience which Nwm wished to endure.

Ortwine's demeanour was serene and composed. Many strategies for dealing with Saes had crossed her mind, none of which seemed entirely satisfactory. Prior to her current state of insanity, the death-goddess had not been one apt to casual interaction with the other Nireem. As with most underworld deities, she had been content to dwell in morbid isolation with her shades, grudgingly releasing an annual quota of discarnate spirits so that the cycle of transmigration could continue in Sisperi. Whatever inducements Graz'zt had offered her ally herself with him – and the sidhe could only speculate as to what those might be – Saes had become unbalanced. Before he had been slain, Uort, the ferocious babau who had led the demonic legions in Sisperi, had intimated that Graz'zt himself had laid some curse on the goddess. The truth of the matter had yet to be discovered.

They descended, crossing over a steep arête; below them, a still tarn glistened darkly in the wan sun. Other lakes nearby were frozen. Not so the _Saivo_; its supernatural nature was immediately apparent. They corporeated a hundred yards from the lakeside within a copse of stunted black birch trees. Fungi of an unusual variety grew nearby, somehow inured to the cold.

"This place is truly miserable," Eadric remarked. "Was it always thus?"

Rhul nodded. "I am well-travelled, by any account. Few places are as desolate."

Ortwine hitched _Heedless_ across her back and tied back her hair in a businesslike fashion. She seemed nonplussed, although whether her mood was genuine or not was, as usual, impossible to tell.

"We will get wet," she observed. "Fortunately, none of us will freeze. If there were another way in, naturally I would suggest we take it. Unfortunately, there is not: Rûk is an isolated bubble of reality, with no other entrance, and the whole plane is locked by deific power. There may be other _exits_ though – at least Mostin seems to think so. If there are, then Saes controls them. Once we pass through this way, we have to find another way out."

Eadric twitched. "_May_ be? _If_? Ortwine, I would feel more comfortable in this endeavour, had you done your research more carefully."

"Time is a constraint we have all experienced recently," Ortwine snapped. "I am no different. It is logical surmise: prior to her current episode of covetousness, Saes must have had some means to liberate souls within her guardianship. In any event, _there will be demons_. Lai says _in_ the inverse of the lake, as well as within the vestibule beyond. The _Saivo_ is deep – maybe a quarter mile. Its magic is such that the pressure will not crush us, however. When down becomes up, we will be half way to the other side; up will remain up thereafter, there is no going back down. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly," Nwm said. "May we proceed, now?"

Ortwine nodded.

Nwm transformed himself into a black dragon of enormous proportions, and bestowed _water breathing_ upon them.

"Grab onto a horn or something; we're going down fast. If you're struck by a _dispelling_, hold your breath: I'll get to you as soon as I can."


**


Daunton looked worried. He sat in a plush chair in Mostin's drawing room, and poured himself another drink. "How long is this state of torpor likely to last? Is the Enforcer even _safe_, without the Claviger's direction?" 

The Alienist stared blankly at him. "The Claviger cannot _act_ directly, hence it needs an agent. Gihaahia's empowerment is for her own protection, in this regard; unmagnified, she would be vulnerable. I suspect it will last for as long as the current crisis persists."

Orolde entered apologetically, clearing his throat. "Rimilin is without. He wishes to take counsel."

"To pry, more like," Mostin scowled. "I suppose I can't fault him for wanting to keep abreast of events; virtually every other Wizard I know is hiding under a rock." The Alienist sighed. "Show him in."

"He is not alone," Orolde added.

Mostin eyed the sprite suspiciously.

"He has a succubus with him. She seems docile enough."

The Alienist tilted his head. Rimilin was not renowned for compacting fiendish lemans, given his particular circumstances. Perhaps he would _shapechange_ himself…Best not to go there.

"Did he give a name?"

"Ilistet," Orolde replied calmly.

_In the name of all that is unholy_ Mostin's eyes widened to obscene green orbs. His pseudopod twitched involuntarily, scattering candied fruit across the floor.

"Are you a complete simpleton?" He hissed at Orolde. "Do you know who she _is_?"

"She is Graz'zt's herald," Orolde was unfazed. "What does it matter? Rimilin has her under a compulsion."

"He damn well better have her _mind blanked_ as well, and more," Mostin screeched. "I do not want the eye of Azzagrat turning here at the moment."

"Should I show him in?"

"Ngaarh! Yes!" He glared at Orolde, who left hastily. 

Daunton stood. "I think perhaps it is time I…"

"Siddown!" Mostin barked. "We're in this together, remember?" 

Daunton readied a _teleport_. "I will remain temporarily. We are also outside of the proscribed area, if you recall."

*

Rimilin barely nodded in greeting to Mostin and Daunton, and made even that gesture appear as though he were delivering some kind of benediction. His smile was as unctuous as usual, and he was laden with protective wards. The Acolyte began it: the negotiated exchange of information.

"My sources inform me that you plan to begin conjuring celestials tomorrow, is that true?"

"They are my new lackeys," Mostin decided to brag. "They will have bat wings, if their conventional form distresses you: it is their purpose which you should consider. I have been restricted to devas and archons; naturally I interpret that to include exemplars and episemes as well, as they were never specifically excluded. There will be no cascade; I am therefore relying on conventional tools."

"You mean to conjure the Princes of the Choirs? You believe they will come?" Rimilin couldn't help but appreciate the literalist manipulation of the contract. "Exalted celestials in the World of Men may serve to escalate the situation."

"We're playing catch-up. You have a demonic magnate _dominated_ in my drawing-room; violating Goetic etiquette regarding compacts seems no taboo for you."

"I am establishing a temporal power base," Rimilin smiled. "It seems voguish; I didn't want to get left behind by the fashionable set. And who cares if I anger Graz'zt? He's in no position to assault anybody at the moment. His popularity as an _ugra_ is waning amongst the convocations."

"You have walked among them?"

Rimilin merely smiled. 

"They wish to establish a religious base in Wyre," Mostin reluctantly volunteered. It was valuable information, but would soon be common knowledge. "The Injunction does not apply to divine thaumaturgy. Eadric is understandably reluctant."

"He would rather send a continent to war?" Rimilin narrowed his eyes. "I suppose I will benefit, either way. Tell me of Visuit. Did she speak?"

"She grunted a few times. She is potent. She bore the sword."

"Yeshe is preparing to bind Pazuzu."

"How do you know this?" Mostin whispered fiercely. "How reliable is your information?"

"Very. She is wooing the convocations intently. Her rivalry with Sibud drives her."

Mostin's mind raced. Legend maintained that it was only at the very climax of the war with Durjan that Yeshe had conjured Pazuzu before. If she intended to make it her opening gambit in this one…   

"What else do you know, Mostin? What of Prahar?"

"He was not present," the Alienist replied.

"That is not what I meant."

Mostin remained silent.

"Mostin? Fair trade, now." Rimilin's tone was unbearably condescending.

"He bound Orcus previously. So far he has remained silent."

Rimilin smiled.

"Do you wish to go higher?" Mostin asked. "There is one other piece of information: I set a tall price on it. Do you have something to match?" 

"Perhaps," Rimilin answered carefully.

"Mine involves the Enforcer."

"Her magnification is already well-known…" Rimilin began.

"Not that," Mostin said. "Nehael says she appeared to the Cheshnite delegation and issued a warning. Certain articles in the Injunction have been amended."

"The theurges are excluded, then? That is news, I'll admit. Although not entirely unexpected. I know something of which may be of particular interest to you: it involves an Infernalist of your prior acquaintance."

Mostin twitched.

"Do you wish to hear more?"

"Speak, lest our relationship grow rapidly sour," Mostin hissed.

"The schemes of the Nameless Fiend, Mostin. Perhaps he is nervous that the eschaton is upon us and is drawing contingencies against the possibility. Shomei is in Cocytus. She is most _recherché_." The hint of envy in Rimilin's voice left little doubt that the Acolyte of the Skin was speaking the truth. 

Mostin sighed. The wizardly ego would always abandon discretion in favour of the need to appear better informed. It was why they made such terrible politicians.

Throughout the exchange, Ilistet remained silent; seething with ill-concealed hatred, but unable to act. Her presence was an overt statement of power by Rimilin, and the Alienist wondered if the Acolyte could break her to his Will; _domination_ was an effective temporary measure, but Ilistet was unfathomably loyal to Graz'zt. He shrugged. It wasn't his problem. Mostin felt immensely relieved that he didn't have to deal with conjured fiends on an ongoing basis. 

**

The wastrilith slid through the water surrounded by an oily blackness. It was a creature of prodigious size, plucked from a watery abysm by Graz'zt and deposited at the entrance to Sisperi's underworld. A school of bestial fish-demons surrounded it, ravenous for flesh, deranged by their captivity within the _Saivo_; all were victims of false promises offered by the Prince of Azzagrat a millennium before. They were prisoners as much as the souls which Saes had gathered to herself. 

Nwm, alerted to their presence with his _true seeing_, gyred in the water as they closed and increased his speed further; Ortwine, who clutched a bony protrusion from his draconic neck, was struck by the elegance and efficiency of the movement. 

Nwm turned his head casually, discharging a great gout of acid. He was powering towards some unknown surface now: down had become up, and there was no turning back. Eadric invoked _daylight_ on himself, illuminating their surroundings; a mire of darkness encroached upon it, and was closing quickly. _Faster_, Ortwine drew _Heedless_ and a wave of venomous hatred surged through her. She quickly mastered it, but Eadric shot her a suspicious glance.

Nwm _shapechanged_ again, deciding to avoid conflict if possible. Reaching their goal unharmed was his primary goal; distractions such as these would only denude their energy. His form liquefied into that of an elemental, and cradling Eadric, Ortwine and Rhul in a torrent of churning water, he began to race upwards at breakneck speed. The demon – disinclined to let its quarry escape – paused and caused the water above them to suddenly freeze: it cracked and groaned as tendrils of ice rapidly formed into a solid mass. Nwm maneuvered around it easily, although in a motion which caused Eadric's stomach to somersault. As they outpaced their pursuers, Nwm felt a weak tugging sensation – a last, desperate effort to drag them down again – but one easily eluded. A mental scream of hatred and frustration followed it.

They broke the surface, and Nwm resumed his draconic shape, launching himself into the air. The vestibule of Rûk was a vast cavern; a single unsupported dome which reached two hundred fathoms above black water. The light emanating from Eadric was like a candle held within a geode, and sparked glistering veins of gold and gems within the walls.

Ortwine gasped despite herself. It was staggeringly beautiful.

Rhul spat water and raised an eyebrow. "It seems that our sister has kept more than a few secrets – and more than just souls – to herself."

**

Prince Tagur paced restlessly through the winding corridors and halls of the royal palace in Morne. It was two hours before dawn, and torches guttered in sconces. Sentries, posted at every doorway and at thirty-foot intervals between, eyed him cautiously as he passed. He had been unrelenting in his insistence that the palace guard remain alert and fully mobilized at all times; every thane of the royal household had been ordered to sleep in a mail shirt. Tagur had bolstered the defenses with another hundred hand-picked knights, and assigned stern taskmasters from amongst his own retinue to oversee them.

_All utterly pointless_, he knew. If the enemy decided to strike, what could they do to resist? The Prince passed the doors to the royal bedchamber and sighed inwardly. Now was the time for a warrior-king; instead Wyre had a fourteen-year old boy, cajoled by a group of greedy relatives who _still_ didn't understand the magnitude of the threat. 

At the _Ahma's_ insistence, key areas had been _hallowed_ by Tahl, and wards of _forbiddance_ laid upon them; nothing could manifest directly within the inner donjon. But Eadric had been honest with Tagur, contrary to the perceived security which he had allowed other members of the aristocracy to enjoy: _If they come for the king – I mean really come – it will not be enough. We can only hope that they deem it an inefficient investment of resources._ Tagur had drawn some small comfort from that argument, at least. In many ways, it was to the benefit of the enemy that an untested boy remain on the throne.  

The Prince made his way to his own chambers, and sat at his desk. Sleep still eluded him, something which an hour of administrative tedium might cure. He reached for his papers and froze; atop a pile of legal pleas, aristocratic nuptial agreements, warrants, and proposed exchanges of lands and properties, lay a single note in handwritten scrawl:

_Beware. There are already tigers amongst you._


----------



## pogre

Wow! That was quick! Thanks for the update.


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## Rackhir

This is going to be a good week! Another update from Sep!

Hmm. Tigers are among you. Rakshasa reference perhaps?


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## Nightbreeze

happydance again


----------



## Noir

great updates sep. completely pulled me from Faulkner for a while.


----------



## Miln

----------
"Before we depart, I need to contact Canec. I am changing my colours, and my device."

Nwm cocked his head.

"Green and gold," Eadric explained. "Tree and Sun. Viridity and Saizhan."
---------

That last line is one of the best lines in the entire story!!

Thank you for all the updates.


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## Bloodcookie

Another so soon?! Goodness, I'm spent!


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## Atanatotatos

Oh joy


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## Rary the Traitor

Wonderful stuff, Sep! Thank you so much!


More please.


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## Roman

Great stuff Sepulchrave!


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## darkbard

Truly, truly brilliant stuff, Sep!  As always, I am in awe at both your graceful, fluid language and the wondrous tale you weave.


----------



## Delemental

One of the many things I love about this SH is how themes show up in unexpected places.

In regard to Eadric's changing of his colors: I happen to be rereading the whole Wyre tale, and came upon this scene from Mesalliance - a dream meeting between Eadric and Sonellion.



			
				Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> They sat in a small booth. Eadric winced as he watched a knight fall to the ground, expertly unhorsed by a cavalier who wore armour enamelled with intricate motifs in gold and green. Every detail was so precise that it was impossible to label the experience as anything other than completely real.
> 
> A pixie appeared and poured him a large glass of iced tea. Eadric raised an eyebrow.
> 
> "Forgive the inconsistency," Soneillon apologized. "I stole the fey from Ortwin's dream. He won't miss it."
> 
> Eadric said nothing of the sprite who had visited him previously.
> 
> "Abyssal politics are complex, Eadric," the Demoness sighed. "And the more power one possesses, the more complex they become – with a few notable exceptions, such as Carasch, of whom I believe Nufrut already informed you."
> 
> As the knight in gold and green trotted in a slow circuit, Soneillon languidly raised a silk scarf.
> 
> "Graz'zt," she continued, "being very powerful, is enmeshed in a web of interlocking interests of enormous subtlety. In order to hold Throile, he needs to divert resources from other areas – such as his war with Orcus – or risk losing it back to me in short order."
> 
> The knight rode up and lowered his lance, and Soneillon pinned the scarf to it. She tossed a garland of black lotuses towards him.




Edit: Of course, my point was to compare this to the more recent Eadric dream, and revel in the symmetry, but apparently I was just too darn excited to finish my post.


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## jensun

I just finished rereading the whole SH from the start.  I had forgotten hust how good the writing is and how rich and complex the world you have created feels.  

Now I just want to know how things turn out in the end.


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## Moon_Goddess

I just reread all the way from the beginning and introduced half my gaming group.    Wow.    Always wow.   Hope you keep posting sep, even if it's just a summary.


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## Lela

DarwinofMind said:
			
		

> I just reread all the way from the beginning and introduced half my gaming group.    Wow.    Always wow.   Hope you keep posting sep, even if it's just a summary.




Our gaming group just spent two games reading OoTS  from the projector.  We each took different voices.

I think it would take more than two 6 hour sessions to go through this one though.  I'm impressed!

 


(I get to read Mostin!)


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## rantipole

Three updates since the last time I checked! I'm drunk on story! 

Thank you, Sep. Please keep it going. 

Cheers,
rant


----------



## grodog

Delemental said:
			
		

> One of the many things I love about this SH is how themes show up in unexpected places.
> 
> In regard to Eadric's changing of his colors: I happen to be rereading the whole Wyre tale, and came upon this scene from Mesalliance - a dream meeting between Eadric and Sonellion.
> 
> Edit: Of course, my point was to compare this to the more recent Eadric dream, and revel in the symmetry, but apparently I was just too darn excited to finish my post.




Nice spot, Delemental---I'd missed that completely! 

edit:  several updates in the RG thread if you haven't checked that lately:  http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?t=5652&page=24&pp=30


----------



## Rary the Traitor

Can anybody recommend me a fantasy or sci-fi book that they feel is comparable to Sep's story in some undefinable, ineffable way?


----------



## Baduin

Try Gene Wolfe, eg The Book of New Sun pentalogy and Wizard-Knight duology. Both are influenced by Jack Vance, Pseudo Dionysius Areopagite and Plotinus, both feature epic characters growing into half-gods and raising dead, fighting monsters, giants etc. Wolfe isn't relativistic, however.


----------



## Shampoohorn

*Jack Vance*

Sep's excellent story is deeply influenced by both the style and content of Jack Vance's _Lyonesse_ trilogy.  It takes a few chapters to warm up, so don't be dissuaded by the first fifty pages. I'd recommend any Vance.

_Mr. Norrel & Jonathan Strange_ has a similar feel to Sep's world.  Mostin would fit right in to the Golden Age wizards of that book.

I'll second the Gene Wolfe recommendation.  The _Book of the New Sun_ is amazing.  The first time I read it I liked it.  The second time I thought I understood it.  The third time I actually started to understand it.  And so on.


----------



## Siuis

*Truly magnificent!*

I stumbled onto this story hour long ago. I think it was before Soneilon ever made an appearance, but the memory is hazy.

Since then, I have found, lost, and re-found the story. I have been entranced, influenced, driven to high pinnacles of adrenal excitement and forced to tears. Even now, after several months of inactivity at the Compiled Sepulchrave Story Hour, I was driven to search for the quietly mentioned "original thread". And again, I am suprised and elated to find both that the story continues, and how it has continued.

Sep, _Thank You_. Your gaming and your recounting have enriched my life.


----------



## CorianAerdeth

*Wyre FTW*



			
				DarwinofMind said:
			
		

> I just reread all the way from the beginning and introduced half my gaming group.    Wow.    Always wow.   Hope you keep posting sep, even if it's just a summary.




Yeah, no kidding. I registered JUST so I could say how amazing Wyre is. Although now that I'm here....


----------



## Roman

Sep, I am wondering whether your campaign will switch to 4E or remain with 3.5E (including your houserules and modifications). I would imagine that it will remain with 3.5E - conversion of the materials you have already created to 4E would take an inordinate amount of work.


----------



## Nightbreeze

I don't care whether his campaign switches or not, as long as he post even a vague summary of what happened...even if it is "Ortwin-dead, Mostin-ascended, Nwn-became an ancient treant".


----------



## Justin

Maybe Sep's just busy. You know...working on the screenplay.  

Actually, I just watched the first Narnia movie and, while it was pretty much made for kids, it just goes to show what can be done with fantasy movies. (Note: I've not seen any of the Harry Potter movies, so they might be just as visually compelling.) Imagine on the big screen:



Spoiler



The binding of Rurunoth
Nwm and Tahl speeding to the abbey
Nwm's decimation of the army at Trempa
The battle, and Cascade, at Khu
Good guys plus Planetar versus Inevitables!
The battles in Afqithan (Crosod, Mostin discovering Time Stop, Soneillon, Nwm's epic awesomeness, etc.)
Graz'zt!
Enitharmon and Urthoon(?) meeting with Ainhorr and Feezuu
The Sela freeing Nehael via Rintrah
Nehael, the Green Aeon 
Gihaahia, Thrice Magnified
Sibud, Temenun and Yeshe



Well, I could go on and on, but you all get the gist.

*sigh*


----------



## Paka

Is there a place where we could find this as one easy-to-read word document somewhere all in order?


----------



## grodog

The Yahoo Group @ http://games.groups.yahoo.com/group/Sepulchraves-Wyre/ has a non-current word .doc.  You can also read the compiled thread @ http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?t=58227

From what I understand, you can also print/save/etc. via the thread tools or somesuch??


----------



## Asha'man

I realize I wasn't here during the really lean times, when it was a year between updates, but I'm beginning to fear for this SH. What do people think, will Sep return to it? Maybe it's time to let go? (And dammit, it shouldn't hurt so much to say that about an SH!)


----------



## Atanatotatos

As you said, some times it's been a longer wait between updades. I think Sep still hasn't forgotten us. Do not despair.


----------



## Shieldhaven

I'm curious about something. When you talk about "letting go" of this Story Hour, does it really require an investment of energy to click on the Story Hour message board every so often to see which threads have recently had new posts? I mean, if you _did_ decide to "let go" of it, what would you be saving yourself?

I'm still waiting and hoping for updates from Halmae, Sagiro's SH, and the Defenders of Daybreak, to say nothing of some less famous but equally long-since-posting Story Hours. It doesn't cause me stress to wait; instead, if they did happen to update, it'd be a happy surprise.

Sorry. Yours is just a reaction I see pretty frequently on this message board, and I genuinely don't understand it.

(But then, I'm also working on my third full read of Sep's Tales of Wyre, so my cred as an obsessive is pretty solid.)

Haven


----------



## Asha'man

*Hyperbolic, melodramatic defense ahoy!*

Of course, Shieldhaven, if you're going to be rational about it... 
If anything, you're saving yourself the anxious waiting, the self-delusional hopes and the disappointments. 

I realize that this probably sounds insane to any well-adjusted person who has his priorities straight, and it's largely hyperbolic, but there's something to it. Keeping up with various story hours in perpetuity causes you no stress at all? Great, I should be so lucky. For me at least, and I'd hazard for at least a few others, it would be sad and frustrating not to know the conclusion to this great and long-running narrative.


----------



## Elephant

Shieldhaven said:
			
		

> does it really require an investment of energy to click on the Story Hour message board every so often to see which threads have recently had new posts?
> 
> Haven





Or you could simply subscribe to the thread and get daily email updates without ever needing to click on the Story Hour message board - that's what I do.


----------



## Son_of_Thunder

Na, it's all good when us fans of Sep's post in here. This has been some of the best fantasy fiction I've ever read topping Martin in my opinion. Even if Sep never updates this thread again it's cool.


----------



## GoodKingJayIII

Son_of_Thunder said:
			
		

> topping Martin in my opinion.




Since Martin is terrible, that's not saying much! 

I kid, I kid.  Though I may be the only person in the world who dislikes his writing.

As always Sep, this is great stuff and I hope to read more in the future.


----------



## Joshua Randall

GoodKingJayIII said:
			
		

> Though I may be the only person in the world who dislikes his writing.



I think Martin's writing is adequate. It's his storytelling that is hateful and misanthropic. But I digress....

Sep was last seen on the boards "today" (who, me, a stalker?), so he hasn't completely forsaken us. Maybe he is busy playing (not DMing) 4e, and it's so much fun he hasn't had time to write story updates.


----------



## BLACKDIRGE

Hey guys,

Do any of you know if Sep is doing any professional (paid) writing? It may be the reason for lack of updates. 

Authors of popular story hours sometimes get snapped up by enterprising publishers looking for talent, which then limits the time they have to write the story hour that got them noticed in the first place. It's a vicious circle, I know.   

I would have a hard time believing that Sep was not at least approached by a number of different publishers. 

BD


----------



## Rackhir

BLACKDIRGE said:
			
		

> Hey guys,
> 
> Do any of you know if Sep is doing any professional (paid) writing? It may be the reason for lack of updates.
> 
> Authors of popular story hours sometimes get snapped up by enterprising publishers looking for talent, which then limits the time they have to write the story hour that got them noticed in the first place. It's a vicious circle, I know.
> 
> I would have a hard time believing that Sep was not at least approached by a number of different publishers.
> 
> BD




I suspect he'd have mentioned something if that was the case. Lets face it there's a lot of RL stuff that can cause people to not update a SH. The guy who writes the Chronicles of Burne in my sig, had a kid about a year ago and has gotten out one update in that year (fortunately the DM is starting to take up some of the slack).

Also let us not forget the original "What Should I do with this Paladin and Succubus" thread that Sep started, had something like a 6 month gap between the last time he posted and when he got around to posting what he had decided to do. So the periods when he's been posting to the SH more than once every 6-9 months are the exception. Blissful though they might be.

He was doing quite a lot of work on his epic D&D Magic system there for a while, but I think it migrated to some sort of private forum and I lost track of it. It is definitely worth tracking down if you're looking for more insights though.


----------



## GoodKingJayIII

Joshua Randall said:
			
		

> I think Martin's writing is adequate. It's his storytelling that is hateful and misanthropic. But I digress....




I have problems with the story as well.  But I also find his writing boring and repetitive.

In conclusion, Sep you definitely _are_ better than George R.R. Martin.     Bind this and publish it for goodness sake!


----------



## Son_of_Thunder

GoodKingJayIII said:
			
		

> Since Martin is terrible, that's not saying much!
> 
> I kid, I kid.  Though I may be the only person in the world who dislikes his writing.
> 
> As always Sep, this is great stuff and I hope to read more in the future.




No, you're not. I can't stand him either. I just mentioned Martin because so many here seem to think he's the bees knees.


----------



## Nightbreeze

I actually appreciate Martin. I do prefer Steven Erikson, though. (but I guess that people who don't like Martin hate Erikson )


----------



## Shampoohorn

Joshua Randall said:
			
		

> I think Martin's writing is adequate. It's his storytelling that is hateful and misanthropic. But I digress....
> 
> Sep was last seen on the boards "today" (who, me, a stalker?), so he hasn't completely forsaken us. Maybe he is busy playing (not DMing) 4e, and it's so much fun he hasn't had time to write story updates.




Yeah, Martin tries to show us the dark side of human behavior.  At first glance it seems to work, but it quickly descends into disconnected plot twists and thin stereotypes.  Sep's done a great job telling a complicated story with characters that easily stand up in complexity / depth to Martin's.  And Sep's alot more fun to read, besides.

If you really want to explore crazy medieval conspiracies and social upheavals, pick up Ken Follet's _Pillars of the Earth_.  It's like Game of Thrones only written better, plotted better, though unfortunately without the dragons.  (And it actually has an ending too.)

If you really wanted to stare into the dark depth's of human nature, pick up Cormac McCarthy's _Blood Meridian_.  The evil in that 'historical fiction' book is more tangible and yet fantastical than in any supposed fantasy book I've ever read.


----------



## Son_of_Thunder

Nightbreeze said:
			
		

> I actually appreciate Martin. I do prefer Steven Erikson, though. (but I guess that people who don't like Martin hate Erikson )




Here I agree with. Erikson is awesome.


----------



## Son_of_Thunder

Shampoohorn said:
			
		

> If you really want to explore crazy medieval conspiracies and social upheavals, pick up Ken Follet's _Pillars of the Earth_.  It's like Game of Thrones only written better, plotted better, though unfortunately without the dragons.  (And it actually has an ending too.)
> 
> If you really wanted to stare into the dark depth's of human nature, pick up Cormac McCarthy's _Blood Meridian_.  The evil in that 'historical fiction' book is more tangible and yet fantastical than in any supposed fantasy book I've ever read.




Thanks for the suggestions. I'll have to pick up these books.


----------



## darkbard

I couldn't agree more regarding Cormac McCarthy.  Probably the greatest living American novelist.


----------



## the Jester

I was just thinking that I might go pick up a book today, too.


----------



## TaranTheWanderer

Hey All,

I've been away from the story board for a while, so I'd like to re-read the whole story from the beginning, as well as recommend it to a friend.  If someone could point me in the right direction, that would be greatly appreciated!


----------



## Joshua Randall

Start here --> http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?t=58227

It's out of date, but should keep you plenty entertained for a long time.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

***

Mostin stood within the summoning room in his cellar at dusk, and considered his peculiar circumstances. He was an unlikely Enochian: driven by necessity, rather than any philosophical sympathy with the celestial agenda, which he viewed just as suspiciously as the fiendish one.

Prior to the endeavour, he had made a brief journey to the cave of the Claviger in the hills of Mord, _just to be sure_ that he had overlooked no detail regarding the Injunction. And to ensure that the Enforcer had not, in some perverse fit of humour, extended the proscribed area to encompass the locale of his manse. The chamber had seemed unchanged, except that – perhaps – the aura emanating from the tablets was somehow subdued.

As he had prepared to leave, _She_ had appeared to him, and smiled wickedly. 

"Be careful, Mostin. If one of your new friends places even a feathered toe within Wyre, I will take you. And there is no hiding from me."

Despite his terror – because now Gihaahia was suffused with godlike power – Mostin had clung tight to his own will, and forced himself to remain calm.

"Would you follow me _Outside_, even? Somehow, I doubt that." It had been an empty but necessary act of braggadocio; he knew that she would likely know of any violation _before_ it happened, and certainly before he could react.

"Place your trust in the Claviger," Gihaahia had said unexpectedly. "I/She cares for you."

Mostin had departed feeling sick. Apparently, the infernal had now thoroughly conflated her own identity with that of the entity she served.


Now he stood with Sho, who wished to witness the conjuration despite her own inclinations; and Orolde, the maimed sprite; and Mei, still devoid of true sapience. He sighed. _My esteemed cabal_, he thought ironically. He stared at Shomei's lesser analogues; news of their creator's infernal assumption could wait. He suspected that neither would care anyway; Sho was rapidly individuating, and Mei was dead to any feelings.

Mostin turned, and inspected a mildewed tome which rested on a carved lectern, flicking through its pages with his appendage. Taruz, the captain of the Host with whom Mostin had struck his deal, had indicated that celestials of a stature greater than that of a deva or an archon were not suitable candidates for his conjurations, and had required that he not use _planar bindings_ in order to secure aid from the Empyrean realms. Mostin had grumbled inwardly; opening a number of _gates_ would be a massive drain on his psychic resources, even if no subsequent fee were involved. And for _devas?_

The Alienist had brooded on the situation, and finally decided that he would pressure the host to renegotiate the terms of the deal. He would conjure Oraios, an exalted movanic; one of the Twelve Princes of the Eighth Choir. Technically a deva, yes. The fact that Oraios packed as much punch as a half-dozen solars was neither here nor there. But Mostin was nervous; _spirit_ and _letter_ were very different things, and he was dealing with celestials here, not devils. And few had dared to invoke an episeme before.

Orolde coughed.

"Well?" Sho asked. "Are we to stand here all day? I had hoped to use the summoning room later."

"Very well," Mostin steeled himself. _Stay focussed on the face. Do not look at the wings._ And then: _Screw the Host. It's my reservoir, and I damn well expect my money's worth._

*

In wheeling mansions of light, high in the Seraphic Sphere, a _gate_ opened. After pausing for a moment's thought, during which he _communed_ with the Marshal of the Host, Oraios passed through.

*

Beneath a tree on the southern marches of Wyre, the _Sela_ sat cross-legged, surrounded by saints and talions, delivering a lesson to a wide circle of armored knights and templars. He paused briefly and smiled enigmatically, shaking his head at the wizard's audacity, before continuing.

*

In Nizkur, Nehael glanced at Teppu in the twilight. "Look what Mostin just did," she said, presenting him with a mental image.

The sprite sat on a tump, inspecting the petals of a flower. "Jovol would have half-approved," he said archly. "His relations with the Host were always good."

"And you?" She inquired.

"I defer to your authority," Teppu replied. "How do _you_ feel about it?"

"I suppose I must tolerate it," she sighed. "Enitharmon is treading carefully; perhaps he doesn't wish to anger me. That much I appreciate, at least."

"I doubt he fully understands," Teppu grinned. "Celestials will never comprehend _Saizhan_: they are relics of a previous era of consciousness."

"_Potent_ relics, nonetheless," Nehael smiled. "And atavisms have a habit of resurfacing after a millennium or two."

"Are you worried?"

"I will weep for those who suffer," Nehael replied. "But worry for myself and my charge? No. Nizkur is grounded in the Tree-_ludja_. I am unconquerable. This is a reassuring fact."

"Unless the Nameless Fiend comes," the sprite observed. 

"I fear no Hellfire," Nehael laughed.

"And his rhetoric?"

"That has yet to be tested," Nehael conceded.

**

Mostin quailed. Its feathers were _terrible_, and its radiance was almost as bad. Mogus crooned eerily.

"No wrath, then?" Mostin inquired gingerly. The Alienist had amplified his own powers to the point where he believed he had a good chance if it came to blows, but would rather it not prove necessary. 

"You abide by the contract," Oraios replied stonily, looking down at the Alienist.

Mostin scowled. Exalted celestials acted according to their special remit – whatever that was. They were beyond normal hierarchic status. This celestial specimen appeared particularly warlike.

"Then I may deploy you in a manner consonant with the will of the _Ahma_ or the _Sela_. I also imagine that you regard yourself as better informed as to what that might be, and thus feel in no way, in actuality, beholden to me."

"That would a wise interpretation," Oraios affirmed. 

"I think that it is _contestable_," Mostin said coolly. "I would also like you to consider this: my capacity to open _gates_ is limited by my reservoir; my ability to use _planar bindings_ is not. I…" 

The celestial gave Mostin an unreadable look. "You may use _planar bindings_. I abide by the rules at this point. I will remain for one month.

Mostin frowned. He hadn't expected the monster to submit as quickly. "You must not tresspass within Wyre's boundaries."

"I am fully conversant with the Injunction," Oraios said drily. "I try to stay abreast of current events."

Mostin scowled. This celestial had a _sense of humour?_

"I should like to make an _observation_," the deva said unexpectedly, purposefully emphasizing the last word.

Mostin fidgeted nervously. This was highly irregular. "Go on."

"If you were to continue _gating_ my peers, you would find them no less accommodating than I."

Mostin tilted his head and fixed his unblinking eyes on Oraios. "That information is duly noted. You may now be about your business."

The celestial looked at Mostin as it discorporated. "Thank-you, Mostin."

Mostin shivered. Its light still clung to him; the promise of something true and wholesome. It made the Alienist feel dirty. 

"What now?" Orolde asked.

Mostin thought silently for a few minutes, before raising his head. "Tomorrow, we shall conjure the deva Irel, who has the quaint title 'he who smites.'"

"Don't pull your punches, Mostin," Sho remarked.

"And also the archon Hemah, and the deva Shokad." Mostin added. "And a dozen or so minor devas."

Sho raised an eyebrow. "You will gain a reputation as Oronthon's bitch."

"I don't see arch-devils coming this cheap," Mostin replied.

"I don't see you _in control_ here, either."

"You forget that I am a personal friend of the Breath of God," Mostin smiled. "That carries special benefits, and relieves me of certain concerns."

"And imposes certain others."

Mostin shrugged. He was interested in the broad canvas, not the details. And a penny saved here and there could help toward that pot of very purple paint, which he could then throw all over it. 

He observed Sho. Her urge to overcome any limits was as pronounced as her creator's. Following her endowment by Nwm, she had quicky compacted several erinyes and – after procuring a scroll from an unrevealed source – a cornugon in the service of Seere, a disgraced infernal count who dwelt in Avernus. Now she courted pit fiends in Seere's bodyguard. Her rise had been predictably meteoric; in it, the cloak lent to her by Mostin, and the _Mirror of Urm-Nahat_ had been instumental. Mostin envied her: _to have those tools with which to begin one's career._

He regarded her approvingly, regretting only that she did not have another eye, or a maw.

***

Nwm alighted upon a wide platform of rock, thirty feet above the mere. He deposited Ortwine, Eadric and Rhul, and resumed his natural shape in a slick instant.

"No demons?" Nwm inquired.

"I suspect that this is only the beginning of the vestibule," Rhul pointed through an opening into another, massive cavern. "We have a long descent to make; the Underworld is deep, you know." He sounded wry.

"Forty-eight hours, Ortwine," Eadric scowled at the sidhe. He turned to Nwm, "Should we _wind-walk?_."

"We must trudge," Rhul observed. "Those are the rules."

*

As they trod, Eadric handed Nwm a scarf of black silk. 

Nwm looked dubious. "What is its significance?"

"It is Soneillon's; she gave it to me in a dream." Eadric proceeded to explain his dilemma regarding the demoness; he could revive her, or Yeshe would find her first.

"Ah," Nwm said.

"Do you have a solution?" Eadric asked.

"Not really."

"I had considered imprisoning her…" 

"Confinement would preclude her conjuration," Nwm was hesitant. "But I would be reluctant to condemn any location, anywhere, to such a fate."

"Could you do it?"

"_Could?_. I suppose so." Nwm acknowledged. "But not alone."

"She need not be confined within the World of Men," the _Ahma_ ventured. "If some forsaken Limbo could be found…"

"One man's Limbo is another's Paradise," Nwm observed drily. "Still. Some locations would be less offensive than others."

"There is a place," Eadric spoke carefully. "It seems apt. The lake. It would resonate. It would require Ortwine's permission, at the very least. She owns that stretch of Faerie. Or at least has a better claim on it than any other. That wouldn't be so hard to obtain. She owes me."

"I think you underestimate the degree of control that Ortwine prefers to exert over her hegemony. She was livid when I revealed that I had opened portals to Afqithan. That said, despite the protestations of the sidhe, I think the very notion of ownership is absurd when speaking of Faerie."

"If I asked you, would you do it?"

"Perhaps," Nwm answered after a brief pause. 

"Somehow, I had expected a flat _no_."

"Often, one must look at the bigger picture. And how _best_ to protect. I remember her: I know how dangerous she is. But understand this, Ed: If I were to would lay a compulsion upon her, I'd drain every drop from your psyche to do it. And mine. And probably Ortwine's – which I think she'd be less than enthusiastic about. It would need to be robust. And it sits uncomfortably with me. It would be an act of hypocrisy; a violation of something I am sworn to protect."

"How long would such a confinement last?" Eadric inquired.

Nwm grimaced. "Until one more powerful than I came and broke it. Which might be tomorrow, or might be never. Goetia is hardly my speciality, Eadric. I can accomplish a great deal, but my power is raw; I lack the finesse of a wizard. Mostin would be a better choice."

"Mostin is under Empyreal contract. He's not really an option at this point."

Nwm stared at the _Ahma_. "You need to think hard about this, Eadric. You are compromised in more ways than you know; I'm not just talking about your romantic attachment to this particular fiend. You need to question every possible motive that you might have before acting. And an investment of my power in this would mean that it is _not_ deployed elsewhere – and that concerns me as much as anything."

"Demons such as her don't _die_, Nwm. They have already been unmade. They merely _arise_ from Nothingness into Being, and return to oblivion a while. _Nothing Becomes_."

"That is a perversion of _Saizhan_, and you know it. I can't believe I'm telling _you_ this, of all people."

"It's the other side of the coin," Eadric shrugged. "Perhaps it's also an act of symbolic necessity; the _Ahma_ must re-embody the Void; the Preceptor must confine its essence within The Green. It is a point of commonality."

"You suddenly seem well informed regarding my religious duties," Nwm said acidly. "You also posit a Hierarchy of Truths that I'm not altogether comfortable with."

Eadric stopped walking. "You were the one who was passionate about my taking a stance. About a reconciliation of ideals. Don't get upset at me if my interpretation is one you find you don't like; something which makes you uncomfortable because of what it might actually materially entail. _I do not shirk my duty, thus_? Remember? You're going to need to give a little, here."

Nwm scowled. "Point," he finally said. "Although if you're going to start establishing dogma, you'd better damn well make sure this time that it's clear that this is _not an act to be emulated_. News would get out; it always does. You would need to consider the ramifications of knowledge of the event amongst the 'faithful,' or whatever they are these days. And you need to decide if it's the Adversary who's driving your agenda."

Eadric glared. "You just had to get that one in, didn't you."

Nwm sighed. "It is a consideration."

"The alternative is that you _reincarnate_ her into a more benign form."

"Absolutely not," Nwm replied. "I have no jurisdiction over immortal abominations. Or celestials, for that matter. Nor do I wish any."

"I do. And I recall that once you were less reluctant to step outside of your remit regarding another succubus."

"Hardly comparable," Nwm snapped. "Accepting an act of submission by one repentant individual – for the sake of expedience – is not the same as purposely _incarnating a manifestation of evil_. You would have me unleash this thing in the world? You have no idea what you're suggesting." 

"Then enlighten me, Nwm," Eadric said grimly. "I am merely exploring possibilities. Could you bring her back Green?"

"No."

"Why not?" Eadric asked. "Ortwine. Mulissu. Teppu. _Nehael_. If I've learned anything, it's that the _Viridity can absorb anything_. You _awakened_ a _simulacrum_, Nwm."

"She would bring a blackness with her. A corruption." 

"_The Viridity arises in response to the ontological paradox. It grounds the abstract in the present. Notions of ens and non-ens are abandoned in the face of the Now._ Your words, Nwm."

"Nehael's words," Nwm corrected him.

"So ask the Goddess," Eadric replied.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ask Nehael if either solution is acceptable: imprisonment or incarnation. Or neither. We will abide by her decision."

Nwm squinted and cocked his head. "Very well."

"In any event, it will require Soneillon's consent."

Nwm stood stock still. "_What?_"

"I will not lie to her, Nwm," Eadric said simply. "I owe her that much, at least."

Nwm sighed.

Ahead, Ortwine stopped. They had entered a tall cavern. Great bronze doors lay beyond.

"Demons," she calmly observed.

*

The sidhe had been walking with Rhul, apparently in casual conversation, but in fact probing him for information, and wooing the godling toward her camp. Her interrogation was too skillful for Rhul to discern, and the subtlety of her intellectual seduction – which targeted his aesthetic sensibilities with deadly precision – was more than Rhul was equipped to deal with, despite his own sophistication. 

Ortwine had the uncanny knack of presenting ideas to a subject of her willful manipulation as _exactly as I would have thought_ in the mind of the listener. Her sexuality was a razor which she wielded with cool detachment, and could accommodate allusions to either coyness or abandon, but in innuendos so ethereal that they merely left a vague feeling of discomfort in those whom she targeted.

_All must adore me,_ she knew. In that, her purpose was unchanged. _Thus, can I brood better._ 

Rhul himself had admitted that the exact method of Ortwine's apotheosis was still in doubt, but the sidhe had developed a number of theories – or rather entertained a variety of notions – as to how it might be best effected. Outside of Mulhuk, the Nireem were diminished in stature, although that had not always been the case; in their heydey, when Sisperi had flourished, they had enjoyed the worship which that world's natives had lavished upon them. 

Central to Ortwine's plans were the series of massive _reincarnations_ – planned by Nwm and Lai – each of which would facilitate the simultaneous transmigration of thousands of disembodied spirits into new forms. For Nwm, this would be an act of metaphysical audacity which he had barely even begun to address; the ethical responsibility involved was truly staggering. Ortwine's view was more pragmatic; she needed a base of worshippers upon whom to draw to fuel her divinity, and who would venerate her based on her chosen role.

But the sidhe herself was not entirely without scruples. She understood the reciprocity demanded by the agreement and, at present at least, recognized her obligation. She would remain _fey_, of course, and that presented her with a good deal of leeway; Afqithan was already bound to Mulhuk through Nwm's conduits. Sisperi itself would become infused with Faerie – the _Enchantment_ – as Ortwine had come to regard it in her mind. Not in some mundane wizardly fashion, but in a deep, abiding occult manner which she was beginning to understand.

The leaders of the Nireem – Lai, Rhul and Jaliere – had sworn solemn oaths regarding Ortwine's ascension. Ninit, who preferred to remain marginal to the dealings of Mulhuk, had expressed no opinion other than her usual disdain. Ortwine had decided that some rite must exist where each godling could invest her with a portion of their own strength, and that such might be a possibility. At the last, the death of Saes at her own hands might be an option, although Ortwine was nervous that such an act would mean that she herself would inherit Ruk, and its dismal responsibilities.

Ortwine drew _Heedless_ and felt the blade's malign power course through her.   

*

They had once been demons but – by through instillation of morbid power by Saes in her delerium – had assumed a darker status. Blood fiends which fed on each other, and disgorged shadows of themselves in an unending cycle of consumption and regurgitation. They descended upon the party like a rabid pack, their thin screams echoing in the tall chambers of the vestibule.

Nwm swallowed. There were too many to count. He unleashed a sonic which ripped a swathe through them; the acoustic resonance shattered diamonds in the walls of the cavern. _Lukarn_ flared; brilliant sunlight exploded. Their numbers seemed barely diminished.

Nwm invoked potent wards. "Keep them at bay for a moment. Then we cut our way forward," he said. It was their only option: they had to trudge. He shot two parallel walls of green fire across the chamber, a narrow path between them. The blistering heat caused the undead to recoil for an instant, before they hurled themselves oblivious through the burning curtains, immolating themselves in a frenzy in order to attack the group.

"After you," Nwm said to Eadric.

The _Ahma_ began to hew his way through the monsters. The others followed him. 

**

Graz'zt stood within the Gate Room, a labyrinth of hallways containing many thousands of portals, all of which were sealed. The Prince had assumed the size and shape of a human of dark aspect, and was outfitted as a gentleman prepared for travel; an extra digit on each gloved hand remained to indicate his true nature, a vanity which Graz'zt always indulged. 

He was accompanied by a dozen other demons of note, including Chepez the Vicious – a  succubus whose animal nature Graz'zt trusted – and Hejiel, whose grasp of planar geography was unrivalled. Megual, a kelvezu assassin renowned for his subtlety, rode upon the Prince's right. The marilith Hirmis, a loyal general who in the past had delivered numerous victories to Graz'zt in his wars against Yeenoghu, had also joined him. Twenty metamorphosed cauchemars served as steeds, or as armor and baggage carriers for the troupe; their possessions included all of Zelatar's most portable wealth, stowed in a variety of extradimensional bags. Their façade might have been a squad of mercenary knights and their squires. 

Above them, the hooves of nightmares bearing the undead cavalry of Orcus thundered through the halls of the Argent Palace. Ten hours before, their chiefs had come; every minute detail of the palace defenses had been known to them, and Graz'zt's walls had been _disjoined_ in three different places at once. To the astonishment of those closest to him, the Prince had at once calmly opted to abandon his stronghold, but at a leisurely pace which allowed him to collect his thoughts and make arrangements first. The bulk of his court, he had dispatched to the Ice Waste of Kostchchie; were he to arrive in person, Graz'zt could assume control of that miserable, backward layer at any time. Others had been sent to the few remaining proxies which remained loyal to Azzagrat during tumultuous times.

A select group, he had kept to himself; the Prince had taken a fancy to the idea of _a-wanderin'_, perhaps with the notion of wreaking a little havoc. Distraction in destruction was what he needed now. Ilistet could wait – he would rend her body and spirit for the secrets she must have divulged. Compacted by now, no doubt; eyewitnesses had reported his herald's abrupt disappearance through a _gate_. Inscrutable to his divinations, the Prince suspected Rimilin of the Skin, and information sold to Thanatos. He cursed them all.

With a gesture, Graz'zt dispelled the wards which held the portals closed, and hundreds of vistas – mostly terrible – opened up before them. A few other doorways remained blank and closed; gates sealed from the other side.

Graz'zt ignored them all, and with a small device instead opened a portal to yet another world. With his party, he passed swiftly through into a dreary wasteland named Suluvda, and into exile. The _gate_ flashed closed behind him.

The death knights never reached the Gate Room. More than a few of the portals had been shut for good reason. 

*

In his meditations, Temenun knew that many chthonics had erupted into the fourty-fifth abysm, and that the _ugra_ named Angula had vacated his demesne. Void was buoyant, pushing closer to the surface. Temenun bade the other immortals attend him.

_Angula flirts with us. He dares one of us to conjure him. Who will raise his pavillion?_

Choach bowed. "My brother, Draab, has already made pact with him."

Sibud sneered. "We do not observe outside arrangements."

Choach gave a ghastly smile. "Neither does Draab." 

"I bring Baramh," Yeshe announced. "His pavillion can be raised in three days. I plan to conjure the _Gu_ Kaama shortly afterwards." Rumours already abounded; the Binder merely confirmed them. It was a goad directed at Prahar, who ignored it and slavered silently.

Temenun turned his gaze upon Anumid. "What does the Mouthpiece say?"

"Angula is currently unbalanced. Nonetheless, it will not be I who decides; I am authorized to offer five hundred to begin: you may bid on them as you will."

A furious haggling began.

Yeshe smiled. She had the advantage: she was wealthier than anybody else. 

**

Eadric, Ortwine, Nwm and Rhul finally gained the gates: massive bronze valves, twenty feet high, replete with ornate scenes depicting the passage of souls through various spiritual ordeals. The press of fiends around them was unrelenting.

Eadric brandished _Lukarn_ and invoked another _sunburst_. Nwm sealed the area immediately before the portals with a _wall of stone_. For a brief moment, an eery silence descended upon the group, before a hideous scraping – the sound of hundreds of claws and maws upon granite – filled the encysted space.

"What now?" Eadric asked.

Ortwine pushed lightly upon the doors. They opened noiselessly.

"We trudge," the sidhe said drily.

Wearily, they continued their descent.

**

"I must do it _now!_" Yeshe hissed.

"The bids are not yet closed, Lady," Anumid replied calmly. 

"I need the first and third cabals of the _Anantam_," Yeshe pressed on regardless.

"Then you need to up your tender," Anumid smiled.

"You owe me much, Anumid," Yeshe turned her scorn on the Mouthpiece. "I will offer you two _analahs_ and a dozen _gomukhs_ for one month. It is a royal price.*"

"It is a _fair_ price," Anumid answered. "And must be split any number of ways."

"I need three hundred by nightfall. I must build fast."

"And I would remind you that you will have an advantage in future negotiations if your circle is made."

"The cabals may retain ownership of the circle," Yeshe immediately conceded. "Anumid, we need to act. Many _enemies_ will soon come. We are losing the initiative. We must be prepared."

Anumid's eyes narrowed. "I will advocate for you. But at three _analahs_ and thirty _gomukhs_."

Yeshe's face contorted into a snarl.

"And I will get you your three hundred. But know that the _Anantam_ are dubious of angering the Wyrish Enforcer."

"Gihaahia will not come here. She cannot overcome us on this ground, and she knows it. You may vouchsafe for me. I swear it on my name."

Anumid nodded, and departed.

*

An hour passed, and Anumid returned. "They accept."

*

Three hours later, the demon prince Pazuzu and six armored balors stood within the confines of the inner precinct.

Yeshe knelt before them, but her supplication was ceremonial. They were already  enslaved to her.

**

The cavern was vast and approximately conical; its apex, a swirling vortex without colour, which – Ortwine knew instinctively – led _out of there_. They entered warily, upon a solid surface which reflected like still water, but within the depths of which, a maelstrom of tormented souls raged.

It was not what they had expected. 

On an island of rock in the dead centre was slouched the figure of a slender woman on a throne of bone and bronze, apparently insensible. She was possessed of great beauty, but her eyes were glazed and vacant.

Ortwine cautiously moved closer, drew _Heedless_ and poked Saes lightly in the ribs.  The figure was unresponsive. A trickle of divine blood from a tiny cut stained Saes's white robe. Ortwine gazed at it, fascinated. _Heedless_ moved restlessly in her hand.

She turned to Nwm. "What now?"

"She needs to be healed," the Preceptor observed. "That is all."

Eadric raised an eyebrow. "Can you do that? Return sanity to a deity?"

Nwm shot the _Ahma_ a glance. "Healing is what I do best, Eadric. Ortwine, be prepared to negotiate. Be warned: _sane_ and _nice_ should not be confused."

The sidhe paused. "Wait a…"

But Nwm had already touched Saes upon the forehead, flooding the goddess with green light, even as traces of jade fire crawled over him, charring his own flesh and causing him to writhe in pain. He reeled, and coughed blood upon the polished floor.

The malice which was Saes awoke from its stupor. Black eyes opened and regarded the quartet before her.

"You presume much," the goddess smiled thinly. Her consciousness rapidly expanded to embrace her domain, dwarfing the psyches of those others present. "You I know," she looked coldly at Rhul. "What are these?"

Ortwine lowered herself to one knee, and pointedly averted her eyes. "On behalf of your brothers and sisters, we beg for aid," she said simply.

Inwardly, Eadric relaxed a little. They were in the realm of negotiation. Ortwine could handle it alone from here. 

**

_I need to know._ Mostin's voice echoed in Eadric's mind. The wizard was many worlds distant.

_Deploy them._ Eadric replied.

_Against whom?_

_We should target the cabals. Destroy their power base._

_Good in principle. But assaulting the main precinct would be futile. It would take half a myriad to accomplish._

_Do you have a better suggestion?_ The _Ahma_ was irritable.

_An army musters outside of Thond's walls._

_Mortal thralls? Many who are innocent will perish._

_It is the doom of mortals to perish._ Mostin replied. 

_There will be enough blood on my hands. I would rather my opening move be less ignoble._

_You have always lacked the pragmatism necessary to be an effective tyrant._ Mostin's voice was scornful. _Attack the vulnerable pieces first._

_How many are gathered at Thond?_ Eadric was grim.

_So far, around eleven thousand. Including bombards, battalions of _condottieri_, and the flower of Thond's chivalry._

Their composition was irrelevant. Eadric knew that they would stand no chance, and all would be quickly slain unless the Cheshnite spellcasters stopped to intervene directly.

_And retaliation? Shouldn't I be concerned that a counterstrike will be just as indiscriminate?_

_Eadric, if you think that moderating your actions will somehow cause the Hierophants to reconsider theirs…_

In the throne-room of Ruk, the underworld of Sisperi, the _Ahma_ stood quietly and considered.

_Unleash them._ He finally commanded. _But they must withdraw if Visuit or any other immortal appears in person at Thond._

*

_*Princes, attend me!*_ Mostin issued a mass _sending_.

The four exalted celestials, who had assumed the metaphysical stewardship of Wyre's cardinal directions, manifested before the Alienist, bathed in radiance. 

"I have a task consonant with the Will of the _Ahma_."



***


_Graz'zt has vanished. Ur-fiends stalk Zelatar's byways, and Orcus cannot hold the plane. Carasch and his ilk have risen to the fourty-fifth deep._

Jalael considered the _sending_ which Daunton had issued an hour before. She sat within a booth in the library of the Academy; tomes containing the names and sigils of many demons surrounded her.

Celestial dignitaries had assumed the ethereal guardianship of Wyre. The Claviger had magnified the Enforcer. Fumaril was inaccessible, isolated by Mulissu's magicks. _Something_ was awakening in Nizkur. Pazuzu had erected a temple south of Jashat: the olive groves were already stained black with the blood and smoke of sacrifice. And now madness and annihilation were spewing forth their effluvia into the middle Abyss.

Where to throw her lot? She reflected upon her position carefully for an hour, considering the merits of allegiance with the various axes which had formed. She contacted her occasional patron – a Pandemonic Hag named Kreta – whose agenda was opaque at best. 

Jalael brooded long upon the whereabouts of _Pharamne's Urn_. 

Finally, in a small refectory, she took counsel with the wizards Troap and Muthollo – together, these three formed an unbalanced triad which nonetheless might yield remarkable results in the future. Jalael's _accelerando_ was already underway. She knew that if she survived the current crisis, she would be a major player in the New Order.

She cursed Mostin for encumbering her with notions of commitment to posterity. 

"We are fragmenting into triptychs, as Shomei foresaw," Jalael observed. "Ours is the most potent. Are we to take a proactive stance?"

"I suddenly have a deep appreciation for the magical economy of the Cheshnites," Troap smiled wrily. "It is a model which we might seek to adopt."

"It has its merits," Jalael agreed. "Loci are forming around Waide, Tullifer and Idro; around Tozinak, Shuk and Poylu; and around Creq, Droom and Gholu. Others remain marginal, although quadruplicities seem popular among the less accomplished. Mostin, Rimilin and Daunton are the unintegrated pinnacle,"

"Is Daunton transvalent?" Muthollo asked. "He is enigmatic."

"He is spineless," Jalael replied. "And yes, I believe so. And Tozinak is close. And so is Waide. I suspect Jovol engineered the whole situation."

"Jovol-who-is-Teppu," Troap hissed. "I vote for the Green camp. I may be biased." He smiled broadly.

"I am inclined to retain our autonomy at present," Muthollo seemed sceptical. "The goblin has viridescent urges which are clouding his vision."

"I am pragmatic," Jalael opined. "I say we back Mostin."

"Because insanity is recently fashionable?" Muthollo inquired.

"We need to deflate his Enochian bubble. We should offer to help him bind Graz'zt. The Dark Prince is abroad, and lacks the protections of his sanctum."

Troap inclined his head. "Mostin needs a bigger cabal."

Jalael shrugged. "He can reconfigure the spell. His use of celestials is becoming indiscriminate, and must be ended."





*Note*

_Angula_ ("Fingers"), _Baramh_ ("Peacock Feathers") and _Aja_ ("The Goat") refer to Graz'zt, Pazuzu and Orcus respectively. _Gu_-Kaama is Soneillon, "Darkness-Lust." 

"Raising the Pavillion" of a demon lord occurs after it is thoroughly subjugated. After the initial _domination_ expires, a longer-term compulsion kicks in. I've assumed that it is possible to coerce a _dominated_ creature to surrender (voluntarily fail its save / lower its SR) to a subsequently targeted long-term epic compulsion. 

*Service rendered by two balors and twelve babau.


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## Atanatotatos

Woooooooo!!!!!!!!


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## Joshua Randall

Man, if I were a mortal in Wyre and I knew what was about to go down, I'd start running like hell and never come back!


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## EroGaki

The only thing that saddens me is that Mostin wasn't the one to "awaken" Sho. I mean, the task of giving the simulacrum's consciousness is supposed to be his magnum opus, according to Shomei.

I only hope that he gets to work on Mei.


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## Atanatotatos

more urgent matters aren't missing though...


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## Knightfall

Wow! 

I always forget just how intense this story hour is to read. I'm going to have to read the new update again tomorrow just to get a better understanding of how everything links together.


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## GoodKingJayIII

An update!

Ah, it's like Christmas in August.


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## Rary the Traitor

That was awesome, Sep! Thank you.




> "*We need to deflate his Enochian bubble.* We should offer to help him bind Graz'zt. The Dark Prince is abroad, and lacks the protections of his sanctum."
> 
> Troap inclined his head. "Mostin needs a bigger cabal."
> 
> Jalael shrugged. "He can reconfigure the spell. *His use of celestials is becoming indiscriminate, and must be ended.*"




Anyone want to take a shot at figuring out what this is about?


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## Samnell

Rary the Traitor said:


> Anyone want to take a shot at figuring out what this is about?




I think some of Mostin's colleagues are just concerned that his enochian (that is, celestial-summoning) phase is going to turn him into a tool of the Church. The appearance of the first exalted celestial he summoned seemed to have some psychological effect on him, which would have me worried too. The Church definitely has scruples that may put it at odds with the fairly libertarian approach Wyre's wizards have to their studies.


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## Nightbreeze

Yay! Yay!

Anyway, if they are concerned about the Church, they are fools. The Church is nothing, as The Sela and the Ahma matter far more. As for Mostin becoming a tool of the Host...who knows. He has always viewed them with suspicion, so I don't think there is a risk. However, each of the characters have had a reversal since the beginning of the campaign, while mostin remained quite stable...so it may be, after all.


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## The Axe

*Two words:*

Psuedonatural Celestials...


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## Nightbreeze

Reading for a second time, I noticed this:


> He was interested in the broad canvas, not the details. And a penny saved here and there could help *toward that pot of very purple paint, which he could then throw all over it*




Gulp? What is he planning, an UBER-epic spell?


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## Kayl

Awesome, as usual. Thanks Sepulchrave.


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## Roman

An amazing story Sepulchrave - thanks for posting an update! 

BTW: Will the campaign remain in 3.5E (with your modifications) or switch to 4E or perhaps even switch to 3.75E (that's what many call the Pathfinder RPG [link: http://paizo.com/store/byCompany/p/paizoPublishingLLC/pathfinder/pathfinderRPG])?


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## grodog

Just found the update, and quite a doozie it is


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## tleilaxu

thanks sep!


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## Jumbie

Thanks for the update although I do have to admit that I'm a bit lost as to what's going on.

Methinks it's time to reread this tale soon.


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## GraysonEN

The Axe said:


> Psuedonatural Celestials...




I don't think so. Remember that Mostin is still terrified of creatures with feathers 

Awesome update, thanks Sep!


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## Bloodcookie

Aaaand... dutifully saved to the ever-expanding series of text documents where I'm preserving this for posterity 

As fascinating and evocative as ever, Sep!


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## Vorput

Sepulchrave II said:


> Nwm scowled. "Point," he finally said. "Although if you're going to start establishing dogma, you'd better damn well make sure this time that it's clear that this is _not an act to be emulated_. News would get out; it always does. You would need to consider the ramifications of knowledge of the event amongst the 'faithful,' or whatever they are these days. And you need to decide if it's the Adversary who's driving your agenda."
> 
> Eadric glared. "You just had to get that one in, didn't you."




::chuckles::


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## Quartz

I can't believe I missed this for so long. Sep's building up to something really major and I look forward to finding out what. Sometime before next year, please?


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## grodog

Quartz said:


> I can't believe I missed this for so long. Sep's building up to something really major and I look forward to finding out what. Sometime before next year, please?




Perhaps he's got a 1-2 updates punch waiting in the wings.  He seems to usually post in bursts.


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## The Forsaken One

Wow had the best morning and now I run into an update!

Amazing! Cheers Sep <3 !!

edit: I can't believe how often these updates always make me laugh while reading them. The characters are just so iconic and powerful in their personalities .


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## GoodKingJayIII

GraysonEN said:


> I don't think so. Remember that Mostin is still terrified of creatures with feathers




Perhaps all the feathers will become tentacles.


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## Eridanis

I went through and pruned a year or so of bumps. Sep, if you'd like a more aggressive pruning, drop me a note.

And thanks for the update!


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## Sepulchrave II

Eridanis said:
			
		

> I went through and pruned a year or so of bumps. Sep, if you'd like a more aggressive pruning, drop me a note.




Thanks, Eridanis. Pruning would be great, but I know it's tedious work.


***


*Mostin Plays His Hand*


The dim light before dawn. In Soan, in the world of Sisperi, Nwm stood with the goddess Lai and her twelve handmaidens in a shallow bowl in the earth. The depression had once been a temple. Untended for more than a century, now it was overgrown with creepers; the roots of trees which had since sprouted and matured there had cracked the dressed stonework, obscuring the site's former purpose.

Nwm had _hallowed_ the remains, washing away memories of the blasphemies which had occurred during the last, futile defense of the temple against demons sent by Graz'zt. Now, all was still, but the air was heavy with anticipation. The group was arranged in a wide circle, with Nwm and Lai in the centre. 

The Preceptor, breathing slowly and easily in the chill air, lifted a flint knife, and began to chant. The echoing whispers of the handmaidens were barely audible.

Lai stretched out her arms, her palms upward. With two swift, brutal cuts, Nwm opened up the veins of the goddess from elbow to wrist. Lai began to bleed profusely. Nwm held her forearms and looked into her face; her blood flowed over him, and soaked into the ground at their feet. He continued to chant. A breeze began to stir.

The wind quickly grew to a tempest which raged around them, flinging leaves and debris into the air. Nwm's breathing became rapid, and his mind reached out into the storm. 

_Arise_, he silently commanded. Green fire consumed him; a cyclone of viridescence erupted, and whirled for the briefest of moments. Abruptly, the storm ceased. Life kindled.

He caught Lai as she collapsed, although he himself was pale and shaking. He spoke more words, and strength flowed back into both of them.

Dawn broke in Sisperi, and the sun leapt into the sky, exulting. Many hundreds of souls, graced with new forms, stood around them and gazed at them in silence and wonder: those who had perished within the confines of the temple. Over the course of hours, thousands more – who had awakened in the surrounding countryside – made their way to the site. Ninit and the ancestors led them in long columns into the bowl.

Finally, when all had gathered – and now the sun rode high in the sky – the Nireem assembled together in the centre of the ruins. Saes was conspicuously absent, but with Jaliere's grudging acceptance, Ortwine had already taken her place amongst them.

Rhul stood upon a mound of rubble which had once been an altar, and began to tell a long, bitter story. As he recited, Lai drew Nwm aside and spoke in hushed tones.

"Stay," she implored. "Return to Mulhuk with us."

"In time," Nwm smiled. "But I have other duties." He reached out, grasped a nearby sapling, and vanished. 

Ninit, who had observed the exchange, scowled.


**

Mostin floated amongst the smoking wreck of the encampment, his features impassive. 

Hours before, at his direction, the four exalted celestials – Oraios, Irel, Hemah and Shokad – had descended in a fire of ruin upon the army gathered outside of Thond's walls, and slain upwards of ten thousand soldiers in a matter of minutes. The Alienist had observed the carnage from a discreet distance, impressed with the efficiency of the destruction.

Mulissu corporeated next to him. She raised an eyebrow.

"What a mess," she sighed. "We have become politicians, Mostin. We demean ourselves."

"We do what we must," Mostin shrugged. "I have no regrets."

"Well spoken," a voice spoke unexpectedly from behind them.

Mostin turned rapidly, prepared to unleash a barrage of _disintegrates_. Mulissu's power surged.

"Peace." It was a statement of profound simplicity, uttered with such power that the cosmos might bend to see it done. A youth stood there, offering his palm. He seemed wholly unperturbed.

"Who the hell are you?" Mostin asked.

"A many-layered question," the other replied. "I regret that I cannot share that information with you at this time." The boy – who from his complexion may have been a native of the area – seemed oddly amused.

Mostin furrowed his brow. "Why are you here?"

The youth cracked his knuckles casually. "To witness the handiwork of Oronthon's servants. You have done _good_ work today, Mostin."

Mostin became nervous. _Who is this?_ Mulissu's eyes narrowed.

The youth touched his nose. "You should know that the demon Pazuzu has begun to ravage Eastern Trempa; other demons are starting to infest Ardan. Many _Ushabam_ thaumaturges accompany them."

Mostin was irritated, but could not help but be intrigued.

"Yeshe's nihilist fanatics," the youth explained. 

"What is your interest in this situation?" Mulissu asked directly.

"At the risk of seeming evasive, that is also a more complex question than it might first appear. I would prefer not to go into it."

"You say little to engender trust," Mostin sighed.

"A fair observation; fortunately, I do not require your trust. But I do need you to convey a message to the _Ahma_ for me. Tell him this exactly: 'Remember what the _Sela_ said, regarding your place in the downfall of Orthodoxy.'"

Mostin was about to say _Tell him yourself_, but thought better of it. "Perhaps if…" he began.

But the youth had vanished.

Mostin turned to Mulissu and scowled. "This is disturbing. Could you read anything about him?"

"Not a whit."

"Nor I," Mostin concurred. "And I mislike being elected to communicate messages by unknown entities."

"And Pazuzu?"

"I should inform Eadric, if he doesn't know already. I cannot dispatch celestials within Wyre proper, anyway: this is up to him."

"Mostin, we need to talk. I can't hold the paling around Fumaril for much longer."

"Don't worry," Mostin appeared unconcerned. "The gears are shifting. Everything will happen quickly now."

"How comforting," Mulissu said.


**


"Graz'zt has abandoned the Argent Palace and unleashed a chthonic tide centered on Zelatar. You should be proud, Mostin. You were complicit in reducing him to such a desperate strategy." Rimilin seemed genuinely impressed, though no less condescending than usual. 

"I had heard," Mostin replied smoothly.

"I will aid you in _binding_ him. For a price."

"Strange. Jalael made a similar offer with her clique of wizards. I sense a renewed interest in the whereabouts of a certain urn."

"Every mage in Wyre has consulted Shomei's library in an attempt to glean tidbits of information regarding that pot, Mostin."

"Not I, alas," Mostin sighed. 

"Nor I," Rimilin admitted. "There has been no time for scholarly research. Do I _want_ the urn? Of course! How can there be any doubt on that count? I will find out how it works after I get it."

_Not just the urn. This bastard wants Azzagrat. Graz'zt's throne. The arrogance._ Mostin smiled, and shook his head. "You'll never do it."

"We'll see," Rimilin said smugly. "It's time: bring him in, Mostin. You won't have a better chance. I will aid you. As will Mulissu, I've no doubt: she holds onto a grudge, that one. Your sprite and your Shomeiette can contribute. Jalael, Troap, Muthollo. You have your cabal, Alienist."

"What is your price?"

"Access to the _web of motes_."

Mostin considered briefly. "Let us assume, for the moment, that I agree." 

"It leaves the question of what to do with said bound Prince," Rimilin observed, somewhat surprised. "Imprisonment, extortion, _domination_ or termination are all viable options; nor are they necessarily mutually exclusive choices."

"I cannot _dominate_ him."

"I could, with help," Rimilin suggested.

"I would sooner cut off my pseudopod, than hand Graz'zt over to Rimilin of the Skin," Mostin snorted.

"So what do you suggest?"

"A very precise coordination of efforts," Mostin replied carefully. "It is rather risky; if it fails, we will need to flee or eliminate him immediately."

Rimilin looked at the Alienist suspiciously. "You have my attention."

"Understand that I have long pondered this question, Rimilin. It requires a certain spell synchrony. Graz'zt must be struck by a _superb dispelling_ only a fraction of a second before he is subjected to a _minimus containment_. He will not have the opportunity to re-erect his _mind blank_ before he is captured."

Rimilin gawked. "Ingenious, Mostin. I must admit it. Such a strategy would not have occurred to me."

"His receptacle will eventually need to be protected by a _disjunction ward_, although if due care is taken with it, such a precaution can wait for a little while."

"And when you have your Graz'zt-in-a-Jar? What then?"

"Your involvement in the process will end at that point," Mostin smiled. "You need not be concerned on that count."

"I wish to be present during any interrogation regarding the urn."

"I will convoke an assembly to discuss the urn," Mostin spoke calmly. "Any interrogation will be conducted under the full auspices of the Acadamy."

"Touché, Mostin. I will accompany you when you deliver it to Daunton. I do not trust you. "

"Nor I, you. And Rimilin," Mostin stared madly, "if you do decide to betray me, you had better be sure that you are thorough in your efforts, and overlook no contingencies. I have dealt with you with due civility. You might rue it, were our relationship to change."


*

Mostin tried to grasp the mote again. It was elusive, and kept slipping into the region of space and time which Mostin had come to realize approximated to the Region of Dreams.
The remnant of Murmuur was impossible to isolate, his memory fading rapidly. 

Mostin spun another arc, this time for Azazel, and observed a convoluted knot of resonances. One radicle drew him onward and backwards, to a time when rebel smiths hammered furiously in forges upon the Blessed Plain, contriving engines of destruction to assault the Empyrean.

Murmuur's mote hovered nearby, as if attempting to taunt the Alienist. Mostin ignored it, concentrating instead on Sekabin, a proto-devil of immense cunning, who oversaw the construction of devices which breathed unholy fire, and artifacts whose purpose was otherwise long-forgotten. Sekabin, it had been, who had wrought the doors of Murmuur's Tower, and helped anchor it to unnamed worlds which would later be revealed to the rebels as the prison from which they could never escape.

He would need to conjure the devil, and extract the key to activating the Tower from it. A task well within his abilities. In his mind, he weighed the benefits of a return to Goetia against the practical reality of already having celestials on the ground.

The Alienist relaxed his thoughts and returned his perception to the present. The echoes of the deceased Dukes – Murmuur, Titivilus and Furcus – drifted on the edge of comprehension. Deeper in dream, Soneillon's mote flickered in and out of being; taut radicles bound it to familiar nodes: Graz'zt, Eadric, Rimilin, Yeshe. With a colossal effort of will, Mostin generated a connection between the demoness, his own significator, and the Prince of Azzagrat. A plethora of possible futures exploded into being, and he seized immediately upon one of them. _Pharamne's Urn_.

He gasped as new infinities were born to his inner sight.

The decision by Mostin to end his Enochian phase was made in a heartbeat.


**

An hour before midnight, the _Ahma_ – together with Tahl, Tarpion and a number of other _resurrected_ temple grandees – assembled beneath a canopy on a conical hill twenty miles south of Hrim Eorth in the Wyrish Marklands. Above them, flapping noisily in the wind, a massive banner stretched: a rising sun cradled within the outstretched boughs of a great tree. The green field of the standard appeared black in the torchlight; its device was a ruddy gold. 

In the valleys below, thousands of campfires flickered. Against the _Ahma_'s better judgment many companies were mustered together, but he felt powerless to deny the faithful proximity to the _Sela_. Those cadres which had been dispatched beyond the Claviger's remit were small, mobile, and bolstered with protective magicks.

Nehael's farspoken words still echoed in Eadric's mind. They had been less than reassuring:

_She is what she is, Ahma. If you want her back, then just do it: you have the power and authority. It is your decision to make._

Which was to say that Nwm's assessment of the situation – that Soneillon would bring a corruption with her, were the Preceptor to _reincarnate_ her – might be correct, after all. Nehael herself had surrendered to the Green, and had been relinquished by one Truth to another; on reflection, Eadric realized that perhaps the Ancient Void – which _owned_ Soneillon – might be less accommodating than Oronthon in that regard. He stared at the Eye of Cheshne, which brooded on the horizon, pregnant with power.

As they waited, Tahl regarded the _Ahma_ carefully. The saint's divinations had revealed that, in all likelihood, Yeshe would now move to embody the demoness within a day. Eadric had wavered, as though he were waiting for some other sign; none had been forthcoming. Furthermore, rumour of demonic depredations in the East had agitated Eadric's captains: all were restless, waiting for the _Ahma_ to act.  

Finally, Nwm appeared, sprouting upwards from the ground. He was shaky and haggard.

"You look awful," Eadric observed. "I take it you were successful?"

"Thank-you," Nwm replied drily. "And yes. We have made a beginning. How is your current moral quandary progressing?"

"Very nicely, thank-you." Eadric sat unceremoniously in his armor. "Everything is messed up, Nwm. There are too many overlapping paradigms; things are becoming confusing."

"And the massacre at Thond?"

"A miserable reality."

"I sympathize," Nwm said earnestly. "Being an agent of retribution carries a certain weight with it. There was no intervention by the Hierophants?"

"If there had been, it might have allayed some of my reservations. I think the Cheshnite leadership would rather have me wallow in remorse."

"And do you?"

"I have no inkling to indulge my conscience: we are at war. Things are about to get much worse."

"Apparently you have a bright mood upon you. What of the demoness?"

"I see no future in such a liaison," Eadric said drily. 

"A divorce, then?" Nwm inquired.

"Yes. And I foresee acrimony."

"I will be tactful," Nwm smiled. "So. Yeshe gets Soneillon. Is that wise?"

Eadric looked desperate. "Nwm! I thought you opposed her revival?"

"And so I do. I would oppose Yeshe's efforts no less than I would yours. She appears driven."

"The memory of the cascade at Khu propels her," Eadric explained. "In her mind, it was the greatest blasphemy which could have been visited upon the holiest of sites."

"Feeling sympathetic?" 

"Hardly. I would still prefer her dead." 

"Then you will be relieved to hear that I have a solution," Nwm said. "Mostin has expressed an interest in conjuring your demoness; he was reluctant to divulge his agenda precisely."

Eadric looked suspicious. "He said nothing to me earlier."

"You've spoken?"

Eadric nodded dumbly. 

"Something is wrong?"

"He passed a message to me, from an 'interested party:' _Remember what the _Sela_ said, regarding your place in the downfall of Orthodoxy._'

"That is all?" Nwm was baffled.

"It is sufficient. I understand its context well enough." Eadric swallowed.

"And the 'interested party?'"

The _Ahma_ stared at the Preceptor, and raised his eyebrows.

"Oh." Nwm breathed. "Sh*t."

"Verily," Eadric agreed.

"Does Mostin know who it was?"

"I don't think so. And I'd prefer that it remain between you and I for now. I also find it interesting to note that after even the briefest exchange with said entity, during which no mention of fiendish allies was even mentioned, Mostin suddenly seems willing to renounce his Empyreal contract. In addition to the Exalted, he has conjured _thirty_ celestials in two days, Nwm."

"Mostin is playing his hand," Nwm nodded. 

"Except he keeps all his cards hidden."

Nwm laughed. "Whichever trumpet Mostin hears, it is not yours, Ed. Is that all?"

Eadric laughed bitterly. "No indeed. Get some rest, Nwm. You're going to need it. Tomorrow, we hunt demons."

"What kind?"

"The Pazuzu kind."

"Where?" The Preceptor groaned.

"In Trempa and Ardan."

"A strangely marginal choice for assault."

"Yes and no," the _Ahma_ sighed. "It is also the spiritual homeland of _Saizhan_. Bring whatever allies you can, Nwm. I mean _anybody_. We need heavy firepower."

"Is there a plan?"

"We find him. The Saints use their power, so he can't slip away. I take him down."

"Is there a better plan?"

"Only if you can _scry_ him. He is emanating a massive _nondetection_ and we only know his general whereabouts."

"How hard can it be it to locate a rampaging horde of demons?"

"More of a _troupe_ than a _horde_, Nwm.  And harder than you might think. He's slippery, this one. And he's in no rush. He's having fun at the moment. He's also beating us over the head with the arcane Injunction. His presence is a religious matter."

"Is it?" Nwm asked. "Then hand out the acorns. You will all assist me in a spell."


**


Temenun pondered. 

In Zelatar, the eruption continued uninterrupted, and Ancient Darkness consumed Azzagrat. Prince Orcus quickly retreated what remained of his armies, fortified himself against conjurations by the Hierophants at Jashat, and gave thought to the tide of unbeing which might reach him in half a millennium. Companies of Death Knights – together with squads of kelvezu – were dispatched to a hundred likely worlds in search of Graz'zt. 

Pazuzu – now joined by vrocks, succubi and flocks of fiendish corvids – razed villages on the shores of lakes in the Wyrish hinterland, crucifying the inhabitants for his amusement; balors were busy tearing down Urgic monasteries.

Yeshe was preparing to bind the first chthonic, _Gu_-Kaama: the apple of Cheshne's eye; Soneillon, Queen of Throile.  She had intimated that the monster Arhuz would follow. The Binder cursed silently as Prahar – who had struck a deal with the _Anantam_ – made use of the circle she had erected to enslave several middle-ranking demomic magnates in quick succession, including Dhenu, a bull-faced fierce protector. Three more pavillions had been raised. The _ugras_ had been dispatched defensively in the neighbourhood of the Temple and reinforced with squadrons of goristros and succubi. Prahar's unlikely choice to play a more cautious game had won him the backing of three cabals of blood-magi who were otherwise subject to the Wyrish Injunction.

Idyam, Rishih and Choach courted the _Kesha-Dirghaa_ – theurges who formed the bulk of the ritual pool – but whose activities had been curtailed by Gihaahia. The compound – impregnable as it was – had been further garrisoned with dozens of glabrezu. Choach had invoked massive _screens_ over subject Thalassine cities, and called a general mobilization of magically compelled allies. Idyam surrounded himself with malign spirits.

Sibud – whose tools extended beyond magic – had unleashed a ferocious tide of vampirism upon Jashat and Iea which threatened to consume the cities, and was rapidly spreading to the surrounding countryside. The creatures sired by Sibud were bestial and voracious. Temenun also knew that the vampire was wooing key spellcasters to aid him in his _storm of blood_.

Naatha made envoys to unaligned powers to seduce or coerce them, and it was known that she had spoken with several Wyrish mages. It was also rumoured that she had fled from Mulissu's wrath when attempting to gain access to Fumaril. Rimilin, she shunned, for fear of being _dominated_.

Jahi plotted in the dark. Dhatri prepared for her procession.


**


*Princes, attend me.* Mostin issued the command again. Part of him regretted that it was already the final time; a far larger part was relieved that he would no longer be required to deal with their noisome feathers and light.

"Gather the lesser devas," Mostin instructed, shielding his eyes with his appendage. "You will aid the _Ahma_ in his efforts: seek out demons on Wyre's periphery – _outside_ of the circumscribed area, in case I need to remind you – and eliminate them. When the threat is expunged from Ardan, set a watch upon the monastery at Esoc. Six devas and an archon should be sufficient.

"Take your remaining minions, and harry the demons in the vicinity of the Cheshnite temple at Jashat. Destroy as many as you can, but do not attempt to invest the main compound. You may continue this activity intermittently for the remaining duration of our compact; otherwise, resume your patrols of Wyre's borders. I leave the exact details to you." 

"Mostin," Irel-Who-Smites spoke, fixing the Alienist with his gaze. "These are not the _Ahma_'s explicit instructoins."

"Not exactly," Mostin admitted. "But I must be permitted a certain amount of leeway in interpreting his wishes. My celestial alliance will soon end, and this will be the last command I will give you; you are still bound to carry it out."

"I must strongly advise against the conjuration of fiends," Oraios said sternly.

"That is because you don't have all of the information," Mostin gave an insane grin. "Thank-you, gentlemen. That is all. Enjoy your eternity, and I will enjoy mine."


*

It was utterly dark in the summoning room, and the smell of incense lingered in the air. Mostin was intimately conscious of his surroundings, his augmented perception penetrating the blackness around him. Nearby, there was a void within a void.

"Thank-you for the courtesy of manifesting as yourself," Mostin said drily. He was weary: the effort of invoking a _metagnostic inquiry_ followed by a _wish_ and a _superb planar binding_ had left him dizzy.

A girl appeared. "Do not presume," Soneillon said. "Is this how the _Ahma_ has chosen to deal with the situation?"

"I want _Pharamne's urn_, Soneillon. You are its former mistress. You have information."

Soneillon raised an eyebrow. "So I have something you want? That makes for an altogether more interesting discussion."

Mostin sighed.

"I would prefer a more relaxed environment," Soneillon suggested.

"I do not feel my _Goetic Dunce_ hat on my head."

"This circle won't hold me for more than a day, Mostin."

"I pray that this doesn't take that long," Mostin groaned.

"I would overwhelm you in a contest of magic," Soneillon smiled. "I sense your reservoir is almost depleted."

Mostin stared at her, "Maybe," he finally said. "Although I doubt it. And I think you might be reluctant to risk being unmade again. I believe I have the advantage."

"_Unmade?_ Mostin, you have much to learn regarding the Truth."

"I am less interested in the truth, than the urn," Mostin was unfazed. "How far did your control over it extend?"

"Are we bargaining now? Good. I will answer that question if you answer mine."

Mostin gave a shrug. "Very well."

"The demiplanes which abut Throile were made with the urn. With it, I have drained oceans. Levelled mountain ranges. Generated worlds."

"That sounds delightful," Mostin nodded. "Did your cabal participate in your efforts to control the urn?"

"Why must you always be so functional, Mostin? Pragmatic. In any event, it is my turn to pose a question. You have been consorting with Seraphim: I smell it. The stakes are higher than I suspected. Which demons have the immortals bound already, Mostin?"

"Pazuzu. Alrunes. Baphomet. Munkir. A dozen balors. Many more."

"Do you plan to conjure Graz'zt?"

"I believe it is my turn," Mostin gave a ghastly grin. "I will rephrase my last question: which of your cabal members were party to your use of the urn?"

"If I agree to answer, you must issue a _sending_ for me immediately." 

"That would depend upon to whom it should be delivered," Mostin said carefully, "and the exact wording of the message."

"To Chaya. The message is this: _This is Mostin the Metagnostic. I have a message from Soneillon: Prepare for my return._"

Mostin's eyes widened. "You are optimistic regarding the outcome of our exchange then?"

"I'm confident I'll walk out of this summoning room," Soneillon said lightly. "Do you agree to communicate this message?"

Mostin considered. "I agree to your stipulation, on the condition that I may pose an additional question."

Soneillon sighed. "Fine. The names are: Adyell, Helitihai, Orychne, Chaya, Lehurze; the principal members only."

"Thank-you. That wasn't so hard, was it? How quickly could you generate a demiplane – by which I mean how soon did it reach its full extent – and to what degree did you deplete your collective psychic resources?"

"I perceive at least two questions, Mostin. Which would you like me to answer?"

Mostin scowled. "The latter is more germane."

"Each of my handmaidens was emptied of power; I myself suffered no such debilitating effects." Implicit in the answer was the reminder: _I am chthonic. You would do well to remember it._

Mostin paused to consider, swiftly making a series of magical calculations in his mind.

"The _sending_, Mostin?" Soneillon raised an eyebrow.

Grudgingly, Mostin retrieved his stone and issued the message.

"What are you planning, Mostin?' 

"Now _that_ information would involve a year of servitude."

Soneillon smiled innocently. "Let me reverse the question. What is a year of my submission to you worth?"

Mostin gawked. "You cannot be serious."

"I am deadly serious, Mostin. What is access to my reservoir worth to you?"

Mostin rocked back and forth on his heels. "A lot," he finally conceded. _Especially if it means I can snub Rimilin_. "What do you want?"

"Give me Graz'zt, Mostin. Of all creatures which hate him, I despise him the most."

Mostin invoked a _moment of prescience_.

"You are also anxious to avoid a compact with Yeshe," the Alienist observed drily, "whose terms might be more demanding than mine. No, Soneillon. I think that to have Prince Graz'zt delivered as a gift – to do with as one will – that is worth more than a year of thralldom to me."

"And to Rimilin? What might my submission be worth to him?" Soneillon asked pointedly.

"Might I remind you that it is _my_ thaumaturgic circle which holds you, not Rimilin's?"

Soneillon stretched lazily. "You could secure my confinement, Mostin. You _could_ invest a great deal of energy in binding me to your will. It is my guess that you don't _want_ to, however, as your limited resources are better deployed elsewhere."

"True. But I am stubborn, and I will not be foiled; even against my better judgment I would coerce you, just to make the point. Give me one year of service, and freely share all knowledge that you have of the _urn_. Give me names of the chthonics. Give me your reservoir. And I will deliver Graz'zt to you within a week."

"Out of generosity, and for aesthetic reasons, I will extend the bargain to a year and a day, Mostin. But I will consider the pact to have begun when he is mine."

"Which leaves us an uncomfortable honor period," Mostin scowled. "Might I suggest a less demanding contract to tide us over, until the main agreement takes effect?"

"State your terms," Soneillon breathed.

"You will protect me with your _ecstasy of negation_. You will aid me in retrieving Murmuur's tower from Afqithan."

"These are no small tasks, Mostin…"

"I will give you Adyell."

Soneillon smiled graciously. "Thank-you, Mostin. Adyell will be a useful asset."

"You would exact no vengeance?" Mostin seemed surprised.

"No, Mostin. I can spare none." 


**


In Jashat, Yeshe fumed. The ritual had been ineffective, despite her prognostications to the contrary. Fate had shifted course whimsically. She stormed from the circle, and confronted Temenun in the sanctum.

"_I am thwarted. Did you foresee this?_" She barked the question at him.

"No," Temenun purred. 

"Do you have an explanation?"

"Our enemy has superior prolepsis." The Tiger remained calm.

"Mostin." Yeshe said. "Sibud must annihilate him."

"Feel free to argue that point with your Brother," Temenun replied. "My focus lies elsewhere. Yeshe, I will demonstrate the art of binding to you."

*

Yeshe watched from her tower and chewed her lip thoughtfully.

Below in the courtyard, within the circle and near it, demons were gathered. In four hours, Temenun had conjured twenty mariliths. Robed in purple and black and bearing his iron coronet upon his brow, he had foregone the usual niceties of compacting the demons, and simply _dominated_ them all. Only now, he tapped his reservoir and spoke a powerful summons.

A void which burned – one of the kin of Carasch – erupted onto the edge of being. It emanated terrible power. Seconds later, another manifested.

Yeshe's eyes narrowed. Temenun knew primeval magic, and remembered names forgotten by all others.

He raised his hand and wove a dream rapidly. Abruptly, the courtyard was empty. 

Yeshe paced briefly, before descending into the deep caverns below the compound. Here most of the Cheshnite forces were marshalling: demons conjured by the favored souls of the _Naganam_; desert-dwelling spirits of ill temper; companies of half-giants in enamelled armor, drawn through _teleportation circles_ from the jungles of Utter Shûth.

Within an unlit chapel filled with death, Yeshe approached Visuit, who sat in meditation amongst the corpses.

Yeshe bowed. "The Tiger-who-Waits has pounced. He has had some prescience, which he has not shared." 

"The Mouthpiece has not approached me," Visuit growled.

"Leave Anumid to me," Yeshe replied. "You'll get your war by nightfall." 

*

In the early morning – after the _Ahma_ and his party had passed through a tree into Trempa – Temenun struck the Wyrish encampment. While he himself remained in Dream, the Tiger's demons arrived a furlong distant from the _Sela_'s tent. 

A barrage of dispelling magic followed from the chthonics; zones of _forbiddance_ crumpled. _Unholy auras_ flickered on, and _blade barriers_ ripped through unwary Temple troops.

As Urqual sat in _Saizhan_, observing thought pass through Mind, he was aware that nearby Templars moved; his empty eyes followed them as though he watched them.

There was a sound like a roaring hurricane.

And death.


----------



## Nightbreeze

Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

Many thanks, Sep.

Mostin and Soneillon are going to be a funny team, I predict. Significantly less drama and more ass-kicking.


----------



## Knightfall

Wicked! 

Soneillon is back!


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## EroGaki

Sweet!! Awesome update, Sep! Thanks a bunch!


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## Joshua Randall

Obviously I'm not the right sort of player for Sep's game, because if I were playing one of the PCs, my inclination would be to start killing bad guys and not stop until I had the situation under control.

These alliances that the PCs keep making with demons and devils -- nothing good will come of it in the end.


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## Jackylhunter

Thanks for the update Sep!  but now I have to go back and figure out who Adyell is.


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## Rackhir

Joshua Randall said:


> Obviously I'm not the right sort of player for Sep's game, because if I were playing one of the PCs, my inclination would be to start killing bad guys and not stop until I had the situation under control.
> 
> These alliances that the PCs keep making with demons and devils -- nothing good will come of it in the end.




Er, have you read over the stats for the bad guys Eadric and friends are up against? These aren't the sorts that you just walk up to and start hitting until they go down.

This has one of them.

http://www.enworld.org/forum/plots-places/5652-eadric-et-al-paladin-his-friends-22.html


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## EroGaki

Hmmm, it seems that Ortwine's diplomatic plan was a success; godhood will soon be hers. I am curious about the details, however; what did Saes want in exchange for the release of all those souls?


----------



## Cheiromancer

Honestly, it doesn't make sense for Saes to hoard souls.  She's a goddess of death- if people aren't dying, what is she a goddess of?  The fact that she was in some kind of trance explains things- she shouldn't need much persuading.

IMHO, that is.


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## grodog

Wow.  The stakes grow higher and higher, and the players exit, return, and re-shift.  Your alliances and politicking are more complex than Dune, Sep 



Jackylhunter said:


> Thanks for the update Sep!  but now I have to go back and figure out who Adyell is.




Adyell is one of Soneillon's handmaidens, since he/she's mentioned a bit up from where Mostin offers her to Soneillon (she's one of those who invests in the Urn's functioning).


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## Guilberwood

Thanks for the update Sep.
Everytime there's an update i wonder why this hasn't become a book yet. It's better than 90% of what's arround in the bookstores, and this story is begging for it!!!!

By the way, is it true that Sep is a Jewish cook? If he cooks half as well as he writes I'd be more than willing to change my belives as well.


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## KaawGorecrow

Truly amazing, as always. I wish most fiction I read was as evocative and compelling.


----------



## The Forsaken One

DEEAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And the bitch is back, this should be good .


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## Nightbreeze

The Forsaken One said:


> DEEAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> And the bitch is back, this should be good .



Hey!!!!

I like Soneillon!


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

She'll scold Ahma and might make a scene. For sure, Eradic abadoned her after all ... can't wait for the next chapter !


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## Roman

That was a great read. It appears the war has now begun in earnest. We will see how the convoluted dealings of Mostin and the other characters help shape the outcome of what is happening in Wyre.


----------



## Rary the Traitor

Thanks for the update, Sep. This is the best one of the last two years, IMO. 





There's something I don't undertstand. The bad guys have conjured fiends and sent them into Wyre. Hasn't the Injunction been revised to forbid them from doing so? Why isn't the Enforcer doing anything?


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## Sepulchrave II

Rary said:
			
		

> There's something I don't undertstand. The bad guys have conjured fiends and sent them into Wyre. Hasn't the Injunction been revised to forbid them from doing so? Why isn't the Enforcer doing anything?




The Injunction applies only to wizards; the Enforcer extended it to include wizardly theurges. Sorcerers, clerics, favored souls etc. etc. are not subject to it.

The bulk of the Cheshnite ritual pool are wizardly theurges, but by no means all of them.


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## Baron Opal

Wasn't Tarn the high level cleric that Nwm blew the snot out of with the call lightning? I think that Eadric resurrected him anhe was a pretty high level cleric. Although, I doubt the Oronthion church has anywhere near the organization of the Cheshnites.

Hey... Who's the new Patriarch of the church? Did the PCs erase all of the talented people of the church? That would be a problem.


----------



## Felix

Freaking sweet.

The pot of very purple paint approaches!


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## Joshua Randall

Rackhir said:


> Er, have you read over the stats for the bad guys Eadric and friends are up against? These aren't the sorts that you just walk up to and start hitting until they go down.



Eadrin and co. are also badasses, though.

Anyway, they've had ample opportunity to bump off some of these enemies prior to the current ultra-epic times. Rimilin, for example -- I'm sure they could've taken him -- and he was indirectly responsible for Sorraine and Tahl's deaths, so he definitely has it coming.


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## Samnell

Baron Opal said:


> Wasn't Tarn the high level cleric that Nwm blew the snot out of with the call lightning?




I don't think so. My search of the first couple pages of the Tales of Wyre thread reveals no Tarn at all. Tahl was Eadric's friend who was ordered by the Inquisition to come after Nehael way back in the day. He died in the battle of Mourne, at which point Titivilius then came to begin his role as the Ahma's temptation. Ed later resurrected him to fight the Chesnites, along with several other dead dignitaries who we have not seen much of. One of them was Rede, Ed's biggest foe among Orthodoxy for quite a while.

Nwm nuked Mellion, commander of the army sent to bring Eadric in...along with something on the order of 800 members of said army. About 20% of its strength. 

A man named Tramst was among the host. He summoned a deva to bring divine retribution to the heretic and his pagan friend. The deva offered this price, in my personal favorite part of the SH:




> The deva nodded. "If I do this, then here is your task in payment: you will willingly endure the torments of the lowest hell for eternity, secure in the knowledge that your perfect faith will sustain you, because you have never done an impure deed or thought an impure thought."
> 
> Tramst looked astounded.
> 
> "A different task, perhaps?" The deva asked.


----------



## Nightbreeze

Samnell said:


> A man named Tramst was among the host. He summoned a deva to bring divine retribution to the heretic and his pagan friend. The deva offered this price, in my personal favorite part of the SH:




*chuckles*

Truly, the few amusing moments concerning celestials are REALLY amusing.

By the way, if I remember correctly, Mellion was nothing to sneeze at. He was simply unprepared, and had low hp. IIRC, he was around level 16.

In any case, if Eadric and Tahl are reaching back with true resurrections...well, it is said that Eadric, even before becoming ahma, was the strongest warrior in two generations. But 200+ years are more than two generations, so who knows what kind of allies they gathered this way.

At the same time, why is that I feel like Nwm is going to perform another stunt? I mean, the first time he squashed the temple's army, then he suddenly pulled out of nowhere the first epic spell cast by PCs, then if my understanding of Afquitan's Confrontantion, at the end it was the Green that delivered the final solution. He is estabilishing the habit of having the final say, it seems.


Anyway, Sep's campaign has truly shaped my view on epic level campaigns, and I have freely taken bits and pieces here and there. 

Sep, I would LOVE to hear more about the Viridity and the Green, even disorganized bits of information. Saizhan has been often explained (but never understood, at least by me  ), but nobody really speaks much about the Green, and Nwn isn't exactly forthcoming.


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## Samnell

Nightbreeze said:


> Sep, I would LOVE to hear more about the Viridity and the Green, even disorganized bits of information. Saizhan has been often explained (but never understood, at least by me  ), but nobody really speaks much about the Green, and Nwn isn't exactly forthcoming.




I'm no theologian, but if I read the SH correctly then Saizhan isn't meant to be understood (by mortal minds, anyway). It's deliberately ineffable.


----------



## Baron Opal

OK, I think I was conflating Tahl and Mellion. Still, both of them are significant powers, particularly after bringing them back from beyond.


----------



## Nightbreeze

Samnell said:


> I'm no theologian, but if I read the SH correctly then Saizhan isn't meant to be understood (by mortal minds, anyway). It's deliberately ineffable.




Ok, then I rephrase it: I understood the _description _of Saizhan at the best of my mortal mental abilities 

However, although everyone is so happy to speak about Saizhan, Nwn and the others keep their mouth quite shut about the Viridity.


----------



## Roman

Sepulchrave II said:


> The Injunction applies only to wizards; the Enforcer extended it to include wizardly theurges. Sorcerers, clerics, favored souls etc. etc. are not subject to it.
> 
> The bulk of the Cheshnite ritual pool are wizardly theurges, but by no means all of them.




Hmm, perhaps the wizards ought to attempt to extend the Injunction to those other groups.


----------



## Elephant

What exactly is a 'wizardly theurge'?  A character with levels in both Wizard and Mystic Theurge from the DMG?  Or is it a different class altogether?


----------



## Atanatotatos

Probably a wizard-class officer of the faith? I guess an enochian Oronthonian wizard might be classified as a wizardly theurge?


----------



## Nightbreeze

This is slipping on page 2!!! Quickly, I've got to bump!!!


----------



## rantipole

Samnell said:


> A man named Tramst was among the host. He summoned a deva to bring divine retribution to the heretic and his pagan friend. The deva offered this price, in my personal favorite part of the SH:




Where is that quote from? I think I've read this entire SH (more than once) and I don't remember that. I'd hate to think I missed an entry. 

I can't believe we got an update in September. They have been much further apart. Thank you, Sep! This one was a doozy!

Cheers,
rant


----------



## Rackhir

rantipole said:


> Where is that quote from? I think I've read this entire SH (more than once) and I don't remember that. I'd hate to think I missed an entry.




It's from the very end of the post where Nwm shatters the Temple Army.

http://www.enworld.org/forum/story-hour/58227-tales-wyre-09-23-08-update-2.html#post1029552


----------



## EroGaki

I'd like to get more details of the Chesne religion. The concept of demons being fierce protectors of ancient traditions is intriguing. Sep, if you ever have the time or are feeling generous, I'd appreciate it if you could shed a little light on the subject. Perhaps this belongs in the Rogue's gallery; if so, then I apologize for posting in the wrong thread. 


On another note, I think Mostin is in trouble. Compacting with Sonneilon has upset Yeshe, and if she can get Sibud to cast his   [FONT=&quot]*Remote Annihilation*[/FONT], then our Alienist friend may be in a bind.


----------



## rantipole

Rackhir said:


> It's from the very end of the post where Nwm shatters the Temple Army.
> 
> http://www.enworld.org/forum/story-hour/58227-tales-wyre-09-23-08-update-2.html#post1029552




Thanks! I did read that one, but I forgot that little interaction. 

Rereading that post gave me shivers. It reminded me of when the high level druid in my old campaign used high winds to devastate a bunch of manticores working for the bad guys. I decided that when a Huge flying creature is driven into the side of a tower by hurricane-force winds, it does a lot of damage to the tower and the creature. 

Cheers,
rant


----------



## Baduin

Nightbreeze said:


> Ok, then I rephrase it: I understood the _description _of Saizhan at the best of my mortal mental abilities
> 
> However, although everyone is so happy to speak about Saizhan, Nwn and the others keep their mouth quite shut about the Viridity.




Bl. Hildegard of Bingen wrote a lot about it.

Viriditas - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Hildegard of Bingen - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Cosmic Vision of Hildegard of Bingen | Ecologist, The | Find Articles at BNET

viriditas [the libarynth]
Greenflame · Viriditas

O nobilissima viriditas@Everything2.com

O nobilissima viriditas
quae radicas in sole, 
et quae in candida serenitate luces in rota, 
quam nulla terrena excellentia 
comprehendis, 
tu circumdata es 
amplexibus divinorum mysteriorum.  Tu rubes ut aurora, 
et ardes ut solis flamma.


----------



## Nightbreeze

rantipole said:


> Thanks! I did read that one, but I forgot that little interaction.
> 
> Rereading that post gave me shivers. It reminded me of when the high level druid in my old campaign used high winds to devastate a bunch of manticores working for the bad guys. I decided that when a Huge flying creature is driven into the side of a tower by hurricane-force winds, it does a lot of damage to the tower and the creature.
> 
> Cheers,
> rant



The high level druid that I played once mused what would be the effect on a tyrannic empire if he were to fly over their territories with wind walk and control winds active...at caster level 21. Then he though that there should be a limit on everything...

Druids are freaky. I think, from massive, scenic scale, offensive point of view, even freakier than wizards, who are better able to concentrate more power in smaller spaces. But nothing like a druid can ruin the day of a city or an army or a fleet.


----------



## grodog

Bump! :d


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Demonstrating the Prophetic Advantage*



An hour before dawn, Nwm roused Eadric from prayer. 

"Gather your Saints," he told him. 

The air was chill. Esquires of the temple clad the _Ahma_ in his armour and girt him with his sword. Adepts invoked protective magicks upon him.

The Saints assembled. The Preceptor instructed them all in a brief rite, and gathered their energy into him, staggering from its frequency. So bright. So unearthly. So much of it. It spilled out of him, incinerating trees in the vicinity and transporting their essence to the Blessed Plain.

Nwm discarnated and soared upwards on a torrent of light, all the while gazing down upon Wyre. Behind him, the Sun hung amid the Void. Warm. Beckoning. He turned to face it. It illuminated billions of devas.

Nwm swallowed.

He turned back, and his sight ranged across Trempa, quickly locating the disturbance which he knew to be Pazuzu and his troupe; violent perturbations in the otherwise harmonious whole. He brushed aside the Prince's screen and pinpointed him exactly.

Nwm rematerialized. "I have him. I can open a tree nearby."

Eadric nodded. "Then please do. But not _too_ near. I'd rather not be thrown straight into combat."

Quickly, they made their preparations.

Tahl issued a _sending_, and Eadric summoned Ortwine. A brief remote conversation with Mostin ensued.

[Eadric]: We're preparing to strike Pazuzu. 

[Mostin]: I have instructed the Episemes to purge demons outside of Wyre, but I was otherwise less than specific.  

[Eadric]: They can be recalled if a particular task awaits them.

[Mostin]: Unfortunately not. I am investigating other avenues.

[Eadric]: Ah. Yes. Your glorious return to Goetia.

[Mostin]: The potential of that avenue is also exhausted.

[Eadric]: Your allegiances are more fleeting than those of Ortwine!

[Mostin]: But far more effective. I am returning to Afqithan in order to secure my new tower. 

[Eadric]: You have penetrated its mysteries, then?

[Mostin]: The tower is indestructible, impervious to _scrying_ and astral attack, may _plane shift_ at the whim of the one who controls it, and may spin a _gate_ to each and every Hell. It is opened by a password known to but a handful of devils. Its exterior demonstrates an extreme mutability of appearance, at the owner's discretion. Its interior is extradimensional and opulent. One has to admire the antique Infernal aesthetic.

[Eadric]: And your manse?

[Mostin]: I must have a summer retreat!

[Eadric]: You have acquired the passwords?

[Mostin]: From the devil Sekabin. And knowledge of the sigils to open the _gates_. I didn't even need to resort to _torment_; he seemed quite willing to impart the information. I imagine his superiors simply wish to see the tower active again; it is inert in Afqithan. I _dismissed_ him forthwith; I have no desire for further enmity with Hell.

[Eadric]: Fear not. I'm sure Dis has forgiven you.

[Mostin]: You are unusually droll today.

[Eadric]: The Adversary is moving, Mostin. He is a player you cannot outclass. Be wary. How did he appear to you?

[Mostin]: !

[Eadric]: Well?

[Mostin]: Hmph. So that was he. Enigmatic. A tanned youth, with unruly black curls. Lean of frame. Suave, but somewhat understated. For Ego Incarnate, he seemed very restrained. My initial impressions were largely favorable.

[Eadric]: !?

[Mostin]: He was less overbearing than certain celestials of my recent acquaintance.

[Eadric]: And as _Evil_ Incarnate?

[Mostin]: That question has no meaning. Our definitions of Evil are not altogether congruent in this regard. He is no mere _devil_, Eadric. He is the _Adversary_. His plan is hidden to all but himself and your glowing despot, of whom he is a function in any case: [display = complex, meaningless formula].

[Eadric]: Ahh.

[Mostin]: I do not expect you to understand the proof. 

[Eadric]: That is fortunate.

[Mostin]: These minor infinities are of no particular concern to me, in any case.

[Eadric]: What else?

[Mostin]: I will use Soneillon's reservoir to allow me to _bind_ Graz'zt in three days. Other mages have expressed an interest in aiding me.

[Eadric]: This egomaniacal nonsense again?

[Mostin]: Apparently my taste for vendetta runs deeper than yours, _Ahma_. He has wounded me deep, more than once. I am a wizard with a reputation to maintain: I do not forget a slight.

[Eadric]: Touché, Mostin. That I cannot deny you. 

Abruptly, Ortwine issued from a shadowy portal. She seemed unusually pensive.

"Is the happy band ready?" Mesikammi asked with apparent innocence. Behind her there was a huge confusion of Temple troops; they were parting to allow the progress of five enormous golden boars. The ground shook as they approached.

_Yet more gods_, Ortwine observed silently.


**


Two Saints, four Talions, eleven Penitents, Mesikammi, five boars, Ortwine, and Nwm accompanied Eadric in his attack upon Pazuzu and his troupe. Many of the templar grandees – past and present – were riding celestial griffons of prodigious size. Ortwine _veiled_ them all. Transformed into an unkindness of ravens, their approach was unnoticed; appearing to hug the ground, they passed below the mobs of fiendish crows which wheeled in the sky over Pazuzu's train. The _Ahma_ felt distinctly uneasy at the sidhe's burgeoning power.

They descended on the demons, who were busy levelling a quaint Trempan village and visiting grotesque horrors upon its inhabitants. Nearby, a large group of _ushabam_ conjurers gathered. Some were making sacrifices; some were conjuring more demons; some raved, or experienced religious ecstasies.

Nwm evoked a powerful wind which suddenly propelled them toward the demon prince's position; as they plunged, one of the balors noted them with its _true seeing_ and gave telepathic warning. Saint Tahl, Tuan Muat and Moda the Exorcist simultaneously dropped _dimensional locks_ centered on Pazuzu. 

Ortwine's glamour evaporated, and the sidhe pounced, _vorpal_ sword in hand. _Heedless_ was screeching in telepathic jubilation as it bit home; the _Ahma_ raised _Lukarn_ and smote Pazuzu with all his power. Ichor sprayed, and the demon reeled. Talions and penitents descended on balors and nalfeshnees. Five-ton boars trampled through vrocks like they were grass.

Ortwine moved faster than thought and was already about the demon prince again, effortlessly slicing in a perfectly executed pattern.

[Mostin]: I guess you are engaging Pazuzu's force?

[Eadric]: This may not be the best time, Mostin. 

The _dimensional locks_ hadn't contained the arch-fiend. The Prince of the Lower Aerial Kingdoms dilated time, vanished, instantly reappeared a quarter of a mile above, and unleashed a tempest of eldritch power centered on the _Ahma_; a purple lightning penetrated everything. Griffons, vrocks, and Penitents perished. Eadric was scarred and blasted. Otwine somehow avoided the storm. 

The few remaining vrocks launched themselves into the air. Mesikammi whistled. The boars – smoking but otherwise unfazed by the violet discharge – turned towards the gathered thaumaturges, and charged.

[Mostin]: Nonsense. A little mutitasking is no great ordeal. Your strike is premature. You…

[Eadric]: _Later_, Mostin.

Nwm struck Pazuzu with a peal of thunder accompanied by an explosion of green fire.

Two more _gates_ opened; two more balors manifested. Several of the _ushabam_ were already taking to flight, speaking _words of recall_.

Eadric groaned. This had to stop. He leapt forward thirty yards and struck, instantly felling one the demons; the explosion flung him backwards and burned him through his armour. 

[Mostin] (Frustrated): I can't see what's going on! What's happening?

[Eadric] (Resigned): I hate it when they blow up. These priests must be eliminated before the numbers of demons can be swollen further. Where are you, anyway?

[Mostin]: At home. Preparing to depart. I have been monitoring the activities of celestials; they have destroyed three balors. Unfortunately, those remaining have fled to join Pazuzu. 

[Eadric]: I had noticed.

Two armored balors now assailed Saint Tahl the Incorruptible. He weathered their blows and pronounced a _dictum_, instantly banishing one of them to the Abyss. The other, uncowed, uttered _blasphemy_ in retort. Tahl was unscathed, but two of the Penitents combusted and vanished.

Outside of the _dimensional lock_, two more _gates_ opened; two more balors appeared. The boars thundered into the remaining _ushabam_, quickly trampling them to death. 

Five balors and Pazuzu now remained.

Ortwine reappraised the situation in an instant. She turned her mind and quickly  _dominated_ the demon closest to Eadric; two of the others, she knew already, were protected by _mind blanking rings_. Straightaway, she instructed it to _teleport_ and attack Pazuzu.

Pazuzu, climbing rapidly beyond range, issued a thin wail which made the _Ahma_'s blood curdle. Space began to bubble and warp in the demon prince's vicinity. In response, Mesikammi began to cast another spell.

Eadric bounded forwards again, this time pronouncing a _holy word_, simultaneously expelling and obliterating the two most recently arrived demons. Two more _holy words_, spoken by Tahl and Moda, rang across the wreck of the village. The demons were being driven away.

Nwm, considering whether to unleash a terrible necromancy upon Pazuzu, suddenly received a communication from Daunton the Diviner.

He paused, made a swift judgment, stepped into a tree, and vanished.

Eadric's jaw dropped.

[Mostin]: What now?

[Eadric]: If you happen across Nwm, send him in this direction.

But the Preceptor's appraisal of the situation had been accurate; the two remaining demons vanished. Pazuzu also elected to slip away, but not before an immense, grizzled balor had appeared below him. 

_Will they never stop_, the _Ahma_ was exasperated. He _healed_ himself, steeled himself, and prepared for the onrush.

A tide of _blasphemy_ washed over him, leaving him momentarily senseless; his wards protected him. Ortwine flung the _dominated_ demon against the newcomer, and with a battered Rede, prosecuted a well-coordinated aerial attack at speed.  

An air monolith, conjured by Mesikammi, encompassed the balor and forced it to the ground. Its whip and blade flailed ineffectively, as the boars thundered into it. Their tusks ripped it open; there was another explosion; their hooves trampled its remains into the steaming mire of ichor.

Eadric glanced around: smoke; entrails; blood. Six penitents and two Talions – including Rede, caught in the final explosion – had fallen. He, Tahl, Moda, Tarpion and Tuan Muat were blasted in varying degrees. Ortwine was largely unscathed; Mesikammi, descending from the sky had escaped all injury.

The _Ahma_ walked to the mangled wreck of Rede's corpse, removed a gauntlet, and touched the erstwhile Grand Master upon the forehead, instantly _resurrecting_ him. Rede arose grimly.

_You don't get off that easily_, Eadric thought. The others might be returned at a later time, if he needed them. Nervously, he looked toward the shamaness. The elemental hung in the sky above her; ancient boar-spirits attended her.

Abyssal slime evaporated as the area was _hallowed_ by Saint Moda. Ortwine moved purposefully through the remains of the fallen, looking for items to plunder.

Eadric approached the nearest beast: nine feet at the shoulder and covered with a fur which glistened like gold. Whatever wounds it had received, they had already healed.

He abased himself. "Thank-you."

Mesikammi clapped. "Yes. Good. Very respectful. Three miracles I had to work to wake them. The Wyrish Royal House are an ancient lineage; they should look more to their roots."

The beast snorted.


**


The camp was in chaos.

The chthonics uttered _blasphemies_ which caused even the most devout to reel in shock, and obliterated less robust souls. Mariliths tore into squadrons of Temple troops who were hastily attempting to interpose themselves between the fiends and the most direct line to the _Sela_'s tent.

Saint Kustus – who had been slain by demons some two hundred years previously – took stock and rapidly gauged the level of the threat. 

_Those._ The _Ahma_ had warned him about them.

The attack was well-timed, as only minutes before the _Ahma_ had departed with many of the more potent warriors within the Temple ranks. Kustus knew that it was a direct probe, to make a practical test of the defenses around the _Sela_ and to demonstrate a prophetic advantage. Whoever had launched the attack had avoided the Aethers altogether and had out-dreamed the planetars which had been set to intercept any oneiric assault. 

Still, thirty-six concentric rings of _forbiddance_ surrounded the _Sela_'s tabernacle and a full celestial company was waiting in proximity; the Saints and the adepts had not been idle, and had covenanted with many devas within the host. A huge net of _blasting glyphs_ and _symbols_ encompassed the camp. 

Kustus immediately summoned his celestial destrier and charged into the fray. 

Closer to the impact point, Wurz was inciting New Temple zealots into a frenzy. Holy fire surrounded them. Saint Anaqiss the Apostate engaged the demons with his mace, grown to twice his height and wearing a _crown of glory_. 

As Brey _wind-walked_ beyond the zone of _forbiddance_, half of the celestials moved in ethereal tandem with him.

"_Manifest_," he commanded. Sixty devas appeared.

"Bring down the chthonics," he instructed them. 


**

Daunton stood on the balcony of his suite at Prince Tagur's fortified palace at Gibilrazen, and gazed skywards. He had remained silent for days. His divinations preoccupied him, and he avoided any situation which might compromise his position with regard to the Injunction: that meant shunning anyone with a political interest, and that entailed _everyone_ at present. 

Clouds were beginning to gather. Greys and ochres; beyond lay hints of vermillion. A wind was rising.

_Unnatural,_ he knew immediately. Daunton's worst fear gripped him, and he invoked _prescience_. His magical perceptions soared.

It was the _storm of blood_.

What to do? His mind reached out.

_Nwm: Daunton. The _storm of blood_ is coming_.

_How long?_

_Not long._

_Sh*t. Your timing couldn't be worse._

_Or Sibud's better._

Daunton's stomach turned as he watched the quickening clouds. He felt old and weary; the twists and turns of the world – and the powers which were now manifesting – were beyond his capacity to anticipate, much less deal with. He leaned heavily on his staff for a moment, and turned to reenter his apartments.

_She_ was standing directly behind him, silent, and their eyes met with barely eighteen inches between them. Her crimson hair stirred in the breeze and brushed his face, the scent of imminent death filled his nostrils.

He froze and tried to speak, but no sound issued from his mouth. No magic lay on him, but terror overcame him.

The Enforcer smiled. She seemed almost benign; a fact which troubled the arch-mage more than her usual overt malice.

"I have committed no violation," Daunton finally said, shaking. "But I need to know where my limits lie. Nwm will come here soon; may I aid him?"

"You are being assailed," Gihaahia said in a matter-of-fact way. "You may take reasonable precautions to counteract the threat. But you lack the power to foil this spell."

She reached out towards him, and Dauton barely resisted the urge to vomit and cower.

The Infernal touched his forehead with a burning palm, and the diviner's mind twisted as though suddenly caught in a vice. Reality altered. One of his highest valences vanished and was immediately replaced by a hithertofore unknown configuration.

"I am the Claviger also," the Enforcer breathed. "I am entrusted with the articles, and the protection of the Wyrish Collegium. You are its president; demonstrate your authority."

She vanished.

Dauton, still shaking, examined the dweomer. Curiously, the language was utterly familiar to him, as though he himself might have contrived it. He found himself wondering if it had somehow been appropriated from a future iteration of himself.

With care and effort, he spoke the words and gestured, for the first time invoking _Daunton's Instant Convocation_.

Within moments, eleven other mages – including Jalael, Waide and Tozinak – stood in close proximity to him. As many had declined the invitation, and neither Mostin nor Rimilin had answered.

The Hag scowled. "Explain yourself, Daunton."

"It would seem I have been empowered," Daunton observed. "Note the clouds above."

Tozinak, manifesting as an ugly mannikin, looked upwards at the sky and wailed.

Creq looked aghast. "Do you have some means to counteract this Daunton, or did you simply bring us all here to die?"

Nwm the Preceptor emerged from an ornamental lime tree in the courtyard below, and leaped up onto the balcony. 

"We have a minute yet," he sighed in relief. "Open your reservoirs to me."

A chorus of objections began.

"_All of you_!" Nwm screeched. 

For a second time that same day, Nwm channeled the power of magic alien to his understanding, and it caused him discomfort. His sensitivity to such things, he noted wrily as he wrought the spell, had increased substantially.

Voices mumbled in his head. Formulae floated past his vision, distracting him.

He focussed, and his perception became titanic; coterminous with the extent of the storm, which writhed in his conscious mind like an ungraspable idea. 

He caught it, stilled it, snuffed it out. There was no struggle.

Suddenly, the sky was clear. The balcony was bathed in warm sunlight.

"I am spent," Nwm muttered. 

The wizards were busy congratulating themselves on their ingenuity.


**


Mostin ignored Dauton's appeal; his prescience had already alerted him to the outcome.

Now he stood on his porch, dressed for travel. His higher valences were crammed with powerful spells which jostled with one another for space. His intellect was amplified to an improbable size. He had entrusted a number of scrolls to Orolde and Mei, in the event that the manse was attacked in his absence. Sho – in the company of several other wizards of dubious repute – had entrenched herself in the astral hold, which she had magically fortified.

"Remove the _comfortable retreat_ to another location," Mostin intoned. "Take it deep into Nizkur forest, but beyond the bounds of the Injunction. Employ your best obfuscatory magicks; always have a _teleport_ on hand: these are the golden rules of survival. Do not interfere with the _symbols of insanity_. Refrain from thaumaturgies beyond your certain ability to control. 

"Be wary of the local feys, they are ancient and cunning; especially the trolls. Pay no heed to Hlioth's bluster if confronted with it; she is not the only witch living in Nizkur, merely the loudest. Hew no living wood. I will contact you in due course."

Mostin made a final adjustment to his hat and examined his plans for flaws. In dealing with Soneillon, the Alienist had protected himself as best he could from the Arcane Injunction. He made no formal compact; she would perform specific services only when conjured. As a dreamer, or a chthonic, or both, he already knew that she could slip under the Celestial Interdict and manifest freely within the World of Men. A measure of trust was required in their arrangement: Soneillon's desire to exact pain upon Graz'zt was the glue which bound it. The alternative – making a Goetic pact with a clause which required that Soneilllon did not trespass within Wyre – seemed even more dubious to the Alienist, as culpability might be his were she to violate it.

He had conjured the devil Sekabin and the succubus Adyell – Soneillon's rebellious lieutenant – with _superior planar bindings_. Sekabin, he interrogated. Adyell, he released immediately from his service, and delivered to the demon queen. Soneillon quickly subdued her former protégé to her will, and returned her to Throile as her agent. Intelligence began to flow to Mostin regarding the current state of demonic politics.

Now she corporeated on the porch of the manse, appearing as a slender girl dressed in austere black; her child-like face conveyed gravity and seriousness. 

Mostin considered the strategy of her façade.

"Carasch has already ascended to the Plain of Infinite Portals," Soneillon smiled. "He is close now. Two steps away. Blackness sweeps through the upper Abyss, but the Ice Waste remains unmolested. Curious, given the fact that most of Azzagrat's nobility have chosen exile there."

"The speed of this phenomenon is disturbing."

"Graz'zt has uncapped his _Gate Hall_."

"Is that all?"

"Temenun struck the Oronthonist command and retreated to Dream," Soneillon replied. "He has exhausted himself and must rest; he is vulnerable to the other immortals until he regains his strength. He will hide for a while. He is wise. "

Mostin sighed and shrugged. There was nothing he could do about it. 

Augmented by her _ecstasy of negation_, the Alienist _plane shifted_ with Soneillon to Afqithan.


**

Yeshe – warned of Mostin's intentions through a dark haruspicy performed on a living subject  – had acted immediately, and with the recklessness she often occasioned to display at such critical junctures.

She _gated_ the _ugra_ called Angula.

The Fierce Protector condescended to appear, armor-clad and bearing a shield of unblazoned darkness. His eyes were slits of green fire; his visage was beautiful, but upon it aeons of cruelty were etched. He regarded her coolly. Yeshe looked up at him, undaunted.

"Supplication is customary, Binder," Angula smiled, "If I am to remain unbound." He drew his brand, and placed it at Yeshe's neck. Her skin smoked as the acid from the blade burned her.

"I require nothing." Yeshe maintained a steady gaze. "You may do as you will. I will conjure others, if you require it."

Angula scowled. She was ancient and potent, this one; coercion would not be possible. Still, a little humilty might become her. 

Yeshe recognized his mood, and gave a nod which might be interpreted as either cursory or deferential.

Angula recited a long list of names, each with many syllables. "First bring me the steed _Tandava_. We will consider all debts payed."

Yeshe opened another _gate_, through which a monstrous cauchemar careened. 

"One of the Wyrish Wizards is preparing a cabal to _bind_ you," Yeshe said drily.  "Baramh and Dhenu are already abroad. The gates of the Temple open at midnight, and Dhatri's procession begins: Anumid the Mouthpiece has ordained it. Will you ride with Visuit?"

Angula mounted Tandava and smiled wickedly. "Perhaps, for a while."


**


That should have been tigr_esses_, Prince Tagur mused as he attempted to rally the Household Knights of Morne.

He had no idea how many there were altogether. The terror visited on those within the palace in the last hour had been unrelenting; appearing from the shadows, they slew and vanished, and their butchery seemed utterly indiscriminate. Their strike was not pre-emptive; they acted in retaliation to one of their own being discovered. An error on their part, or a betrayal.

Now, in a small banquet chamber of the great castle, one Naztharune confronted sixty heavily armed Wyrish aristocrats, including knights of renown from the king's hearthguard. She moved with incredible speed; appearing, slitting a throat, and vanishing again. The tigress toyed with them masterfully, delighting in the slaughter; twice, she moved past Tagur and brushed his cheek before gutting one who stood close to him. His rapier had flashed out, but she was too fast. 

Tagur hurled a glass vial upon the marble floor, and brilliant daylight illuminated the hall.

For a split second, she was revealed: a sleek black hunting cat, to which tendrils of shadowy mist clung.

She hissed and became _invisible_. For a while, matters worsened considerably.

Finally, somehow, they grappled her and pinned her down. Six burly knights could barely contain her slippery contortions.

She purred. "I am resigned to my death; are you to yours?"

Tagur squinted. A stiffening breeze outside had suddenly grown strong. Shutters strained, broke, and wind rushed in. A great agony ensued.

Prince Tagur screamed, as a fine mist of blood – his own – erupted from his skin and was carried away. Other screams rose all around him. Some cowered, but there was nowhere to hide, nowhere which granted surcease; the wind penetrated everything. Some fled from the chamber, the most robust running as far as the courtyard or the cellars before they succumbed.

The scene was repeated across all of Morne, and the countryside around. Every living creature within twenty miles died.

Sibud had invoked a second _storm of blood_.


**


Irel, who Smites, beat his wings with slow grace, resting in the skies above Jashat. At an altitude of five miles, the Aethers were quiet. He cast his celestial gaze in a great arc; his eyes penetrated everything.

Far to the north, horror was unfolding; he could do nothing to prevent it. Westward, locked in its shining bubble, Fumaril endured.

Below, closer to the north and east and south, a rotten plague of blackness centered on the great Temple of Cheshne stretched. Pyres smouldered and blood congealed. The southern cities sat beneath brooding clouds, their leaders _dominated_ or possessed, their legions succumbing to vampirism, lycanthropy, or all manner of similar afflictions. Unquiet spirits prowled the land.

He _communed_.

[Irel]: I would still beseech intercession.

[Enitharmon]: And it would still be denied.

[Irel]: I beg of you, Marshal.

[Enitharmon]: And it is still denied. But your compassion magnifies. You are much loved. Know this always.

Irel signalled to the other celestials. They would start at the periphery. They wreathed themselves in holy fire and descended upon one of the more remote pavillions.

Before they could begin their assault, time slowed to a halt. Within arm's reach of Irel, a youth appeared in the sky. He munched casually on an apple. Seeming to notice the archon Prince Hemah, he gave a look of mock surprise.

"Why, you remind me so much of my own herald," he smiled. "So, before you proceed, I thought I'd offer you a different _perspective_. Relax. Don't feel rushed or compromised; we have as much time as we need for you to understand my central argument."




*


----------



## Rackhir

Epic is too feeble a description for this campaign.


----------



## Atanatotatos

Absolutely _Superb_.

And an equally cruel cliffhanger...


----------



## the Jester

...Gawd _damn._


----------



## Eridanis

Amazing. I love the golden boars - we're used to Nwm's power, but it's good to be reminded there are other powerful allies Nature can provide.


----------



## Samnell

Sepulchrave II said:


> Before they could begin their assault, time slowed to a halt. Within arm's reach of Irel, a youth appeared in the sky. He munched casually on an apple. Seeming to notice the archon Prince Hemah, he gave a look of mock surprise.
> 
> "Why, you remind me so much of my own herald," he smiled. "So, before you proceed, I thought I'd offer you a different _perspective_. Relax. Don't feel rushed or compromised; we have as much time as we need for you to understand my central argument."




Fresh-fallen devils! Come and get 'em while they're hot.


----------



## Annalist

Incredible. There's so much power behind these updates. Literally. Whenever I see one, I feel _compelled_ to read it in its entirety. It wouldn't even matter if the room I was in was burning down around my ears, because I wouldn't leave until I was done.


----------



## Knightfall

the Jester said:


> ...Gawd _damn._



And holy sh*t!


----------



## Quartz

And major wibble!


----------



## tleilaxu

again, thank's sep


----------



## Vorput

Poor Morne...  It's just not having a good decade...


----------



## Felix

> Be wary of the local feys, they are ancient and cunning; especially the trolls.



For some reason, this otherwise off-hand line stuck out even among the Bellagio fountain of awesome that is Sep's campaign. It manages to impart mystery and uncertainty into the world with the relatively mundane while surrounded by prose describing the run-up to Armagaeddon: though fantastic and cosmos-shattering events are going on, if you're in Wyre, you can't even be sure that you're smart enough to outwit a _troll_.

That's great storytelling.


----------



## Joshua Randall

Vorput said:


> Poor Morne...  It's just not having a good decade...



Heh.

I liked Tagur.  I suppose Eadric could resurrect him, but still, poor Tagur!


----------



## Nightbreeze

Words are not strong enough. As for the boars, I remember those beasts...Sep posted their stats a while ago. Seeing FIVE of them...jeez.

And, Baduin, thanks for all the links. I noticed them just now.


----------



## Noir

Entrancing as always.


----------



## Vorput

Nightbreeze said:


> Words are not strong enough. As for the boars, I remember those beasts...Sep posted their stats a while ago. Seeing FIVE of them...jeez.




Anyone know where these were posted?


----------



## Justin

Vorput said:


> Anyone know where these were posted?




Gulthein


----------



## Roman

What a pleasant surprise! An unexpected update... *goes to read the update immediately*


----------



## grodog

Fabulous update, Sep!  My favorite line:  



> [Mostin]: These minor infinities are of no particular concern to me, in any case.


----------



## Roman

Wow, this was an awesome update! But the cliffhanger - ouch - it will be painful to wait until the next update! 

And poor Wyre! The balance of power seems to have shifted substantially... against the heroes... and if one adds the newly fallen angels to that - ouch! Lately, the heroes have been very proactive and the drivers of events, but this time they lost the initiative and control completely. I do wonder how they will deal with the dire situation.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Awesome, I congratulate. Everything is happening fast ... and on superb scale. I wonder what will Mostin do with the Urn.


----------



## Jumbie

This SH just gets better and better. The problem is that it makes it so hard to wait fot the next update.

Thanks Sep!

***

As an aside, is the SH still updated and compiled? If so, where can I get it?


----------



## grodog

Jumbie said:


> As an aside, is the SH still updated and compiled? If so, where can I get it?




There's Cheiromancer's thread @ http://www.enworld.org/forum/story-hour/58227-tales-wyre-09-23-08-update.html but I haven't made any updates to the .doc files in the Sepulchraves-Wyre : Sepulchrave's Wyre Fan Appreciation Group since the Soneillon II threads (11 Nov 2003).  I suppose I really should get around to that sometime  ....

In the meanwhile, if you want to download the SH, you should be able to print it to .pdf via the thread tools, IIRC.


----------



## Jumbie

Thanks grodog.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Reversal*


Mostin stood with Queen Soneillon in the dusk of Afqithan. The demoness was subdued; whether reflecting on the site of her prior demise, or merely hatching some other plot, Mostin could not tell. Around them, Faerie balked at their presence; fortunately, the local sidhe-lord was occupied elsewhere.

Before them, Murmuur's tower reared; about it, a vast umbral drake slowly slithered, its eyes penetrating the shadows nearby. The Alienist – shrouded to all perception – eyed it suspiciously. The thing was an atavism; a corpse tearer imbued with darkness and evil. Against any but the most potent magicks, it was utterly immune.

Mostin had determined to keep it. He quickly _dominated_ it and commanded it to assume a less imposing size; it became a seven-foot wyrmling which coiled itself neatly at the base of the tower. Mostin approached, giving a sidelong glance to the linnorm, before looking at the structure's circumference.

Within the black outer face of the wall – smoother and stronger than cut diamond – faint  traceries of dormant _gates_ were visible, accessible to those who knew the correct combinations of syllables and glyphs. The tower rose hundreds of feet above him, and Mostin gazed in wonder; its perfect magical geometry, he knew, spoke of symmetries accurate to the width of an atom. This was its true shape, if such it possessed; Murmuur's tower was an artifact of deception, as well as war. 

The Alienist ran his appendage over the outside at a height of five feet, and whispered powerful words; a small door appeared, between the portals to Maladomini and Caïna. It opened soundlessly; beyond, a great reception hall stretched. The walls were panelled with ebony; couches were festooned with plush silks and velvets. Great sconces burned ruddily. Mostin stopped momentarily.

"There may still be menial devils present," he said in a low voice. "They will not be hostile; they are bound to the service of the tower, and may not leave it. Please do not annihilate them."

They continued. Soneillon paused by the entrance: bound in a _temporal stasis_, likely as a decoration, a solar stood in a striking pose, its sword raised as though ready to decapitate a foe of similar stature.

Mostin shivered and walked forward into the centre of the space, and slowly they began their exploration. Chamber upon chamber. Balcony upon balcony. Hall upon hall. The décor ranged from the austere to the fantastic; Mostin found himself generally agreeable to the various modes and themes present. Occasionally, spined devils would flap past, occupied with sundry tasks.

After an hour, when he had charted over two hundred rooms, including parlours, offices, torture chambers, conservatories, drawing rooms and private apartments, Mostin finally found his way to the conference hall where the Infernal Duke Murmuur had once held court.

With his ego amplified by Soneillon's magic, Mostin sat on a carved ivory chair at the head of a long table. Murmuur's ducal throne, but also – in a manner of speaking – the helm by which the tower was steered. 

He wrestled with it briefly, before asserting his will and attuning the tower's resonances to himself. 

With a passing thought, Mostin translated the entire edifice and its contents to the borders of Wyre where his manse had once stood. He disguised it as a rustic, overgrown keep of the late Borchian period.


**


Ortwine brandished _Heedless_ lazily. Ichor covered her; her eyes blazed with an old greed. In her left hand, she clutched a soft leather case containing a dozen black _candles of invocation_, won from the corpses of the _Ushabam_ in the ruin of the Trempan village.  Nearby, a _dominated_ balor brooded like a black stormcloud, its skin intermittently flaring. Reverberations in the Green impinged upon the sidhe's mind; she tried to shake them off, but to no avail.

As he meditated amidst the carnage, Eadric felt a low vibration. An archon, He'el, appeared before him, wordlessly communicating.

[He'el]: Hail, _Ahma_. Much evil transpires. Three _storms of blood_ have been unleashed. The Adversary is abroad. The _Sela_ is assailed; Sercion supplicates you.

Eadric rose immediately, addressing Tahl and Moda. "Get to the encampment as fast as you can."

The _Ahma_ invoked a _holy aura_, drew _Lukarn_, and retrieved from beneath his breastplate a necklace upon which clay images of various adepts hung. He crushed a tiny icon of Sercion between his thumb and forefinger.

Instantly, he was transported into a nightmare. 

Heaps of Templars and devas lay about him, their faces contorted in expressions of agony; _blasphemies_ had slain them. Thirty yards away loomed two great shapes of burning void, emanating death. Only the Saints and the doughtiest of the celestials could withstand them. Kustus, Wurz and Anaqiss endured a storm of magic and blows. Sercion lay close by, stunned but still breathing.

Immediately aware of the presence of the _Ahma_, the chthonics turned their attention to him.

Eadric leapt at them.


**


Teppu scowled at the sky: clouds gathered above him. He waved his hand dismissively. A calm, clear morning reasserted itself.

Around him, Nizkur brooded and waited. The sprite looked into a pool of water, inspecting his appearance, and adjusted an eyebrow minutely. New tenants had taken up residence in an elm-grove situated in a deep vale some thirty miles away: a sprite and a _simulacrum_ who made a peculiar couple. He would pay a visit and greet them formally, before Nodri – an ancient redcap who dwelled nearby – began to make mischief on them.

Teppu made his way through veils and glamours into a world which was both that and the other, and arrived before Nehael, who sat contemplating a leaf beneath the primeval Tree. 

"Thank-you for dealing with the storm," she said. "I would've gotten to it."

"The vampire has made a statement of intent, even if he knew it was doomed to fail," Teppu observed. "I am planning on visiting Mostin's apprentices, who have commandeered an obscure nook of the forest. I've asked Hlioth not to threaten them."

Nehael raised an eybrow. "Somehow I suspect your motives."

"They present an interesting conundrum," Teppu grinned. "One is a fey and the other lacks a persona entirely."

Nehael nodded. "Mostin was wise to secret them within Nizkur; there is nowhere now more secure." 

"He takes great efforts to protect them."

"His actions are not always selfish," Nehael smiled. "Mostin possesses a peculiar loyalty."

"And you?" Teppu inquired. "Did your phyllomancy resolve your dilemma?"

"In a manner of speaking," Nehael sighed. "I feel the need to go and look at the Sun for a while." 

"Mind your eyes," Teppu said wrily.


**


To an outside observer – one who could observe _invisible, mind blanked_ celestials at any rate – the descent of Irel, Shokad, Hemah and Oraios and the two dozen devas who accompanied them would have made a magnificent spectacle.

Wings folded, plummeting, with swords drawn and auras blazing, their vibration was fundamentally _changed_ at a height of around two hundred feet; a great fume of smoke arouse around them, ruddy fire kindled, and their aspect became terrible. 

The conversation which had elapsed between the exalted celestials and the olive-skinned youth had taken the merest fraction of a second to transpire in the World of Men. In the demiplane which the Adversary had generated around the company, any length of time may have elapsed. Patient beyond all measure, perhaps the Nameless Fiend – after aeons of debate – finally swayed the four celestial princes with his relentless logic. Or he might, after a century, have become bored and simply coerced them to his irresistible Will.

In any event, before their attack began, the angels might be said to have become devils, although in fact their status was rather more ambiguous; as yet fully undescended, they retained all their beauty and nobility. A dark choir, their evil was fresh as virgin snow. The Adversary endowed them, and wrought about them wards of surpassing potency. 

But they were still pactbonded with Mostin, and three weeks had yet to to pass before their agreement expired. Their descent continued, and they crashed like meteors through the apex of a ziggurat; an explosion of rubble accompanied their entrance into the chamber below. Irel raised his mace and smote the retainers of the demon Munkir, exulting in his awareness, his power, his lust for battle. His spirit soared.

_I am free_, he knew. And, if thereafter, he were condemned to an eternity of torture, he knew that for that one moment – to experience it in its fullness – it would still be worth it. He _was_.


**


First came swarms of insects and vermin, sicknesses and poisonings.

At midnight, a plague of shadows and spectres then heralded Dhatri's procession from the Temple of Cheshne at Jashat. In the van, Visuit led a group of godlings, demonic nobility, undead knights, and an immense cavalry of half-giants from the far South; hideous beasts of every stripe followed. In the main battle, Dhatri's vast bulk was hauled in a great palanquin, and numberless ghasts surrounded her. A steady stream of sacrifice was brought to her; her hunger remained insatiable.

As she passed the threshold of the Temple, a gloom enshrouded the land. From Galda to northern Pandicule – encompassing the entire Thalassine region including Fumaril – all light was suddenly extinguished. The spell – the _Pall of Dhatri_ – was far more potent than any that had yet been wrought: Anumid had commanded each of the five cabals of the _Anantam_ and all of the _Kesha-Dirghaa_ to participate. Within the darkness, creatures otherwise vulnerable to daylight might roam.

The company turned northeast, toward Thond and Jompa, once bustling towns but now living hells for the mortals who still abode there: these were the closest source of food for Dhatri.

Soon afterwards, Sibud – who also hungered – veiled himself with magic and flew out into the shadows. 


**


They were already at Rimilin's doors, by the time that the Acolyte of the Skin perceived them; a function of his abode, which acted as an extension of his own consciousness in that regard. Eight demons – mariliths and succubi, but including a kelvezu assassin of high standing – riding great nightmares. To mundane perception, they had assumed the form of gallant knights; Rimilin found it curious that they persisted in the guise: surely they knew who they were dealing with?

"Where is Graz'zt?" Rimilin's voice echoed in the stones at the base of the tower. "Is he skulking nearby, or does he absent himself out of shyness?"

Megual dismounted. "The Prince has other debts to settle, of greater enormity. May we speak?"

"And so we are," the disembodied voice replied drily. "You will excuse me if I am reluctant to allow you ingress; I am generally suspicious of kelvezu. And your reputation precedes you, Megual. What message are you here to convey? If a threat, then begone; if I hear it I will quickly grow tired and blast you all. If a bribe, then proceed; I am eminently corruptible."

Megual smiled. "I wish for news: of Mostin the Metagnostic, Eadric of Deorham, the demoness Soneillon, and the plot to conjure Graz'zt. You may consider yourself pardoned in complicity, if of such you are guilty, if you render useful information. Graz'zt will reward you richly."

There was a brief silence, as Rimilin considered his response.

He manifested before Megual, bearing a rod of ivory bound with steel. Impenetrable wards surrounded him. "In fact, you hold no fear for me; we should be clear on that count, before we continue. Tell Graz'zt that we will speak more on this matter when he renders _Pharamne's urn_ to me. If my price seems outrageous, tell him to find another informant. Tell him also that Ilistet is mine, now; I have broken her to my will: there will be no negotiation on this point. If you or he – with his tawdry band – wish to assail me, feel free to try, but in all conscience I must advise you against such a course of action. You may go now." 

Megual remained expressionless. If they attacked, Rimilin would quickly _dominate_ one or more of them; no good would come of that. And if Ilistet were nearby…Megual wondered what other monsters Rimilin had bound. He bowed politely, and turned to leave.

Rimilin smiled. "Wise choice." 


**


Through stiffening winds, Prince Graz'zt rode west with Chepez and Queen Mazikreen: succubi infamous for their fierceness and slipperiness respectively. The landscape between Jashat and Fumaril – in more settled times rich with vineyards and olive groves – was become a blighted, poisonous waste, stalked by demons and phantoms. 

"The World bends easily to Darkness," the Prince observed. "All of the signs are here. The Celestial Era is over; soon the Interdict will be in shreds."

They reached Mulissu's Paling and reined in their steeds; about them, tornados raged. Graz'zt and Mazikreen dismounted quickly, and – screaming – the Prince invoked powerful sorceries upon the succubus.

Silently, Queen Mazikreen vanished and strode through the winds – denser than iron – which surrounded Fumaril.


**


Eadric stood with Ortwine in the nave of the Great Fane in Morne. A curious detachment possessed him: heaps of bones shrouded in leathery skin lay around, and every surface was covered with a thin film of congealed blood. An iron reek filled the air. 

_The mind cannot contain the enormity of this_, but also _I am the Ahma. This is the eschaton. I should hardly be surprised._ Everything in Morne which had walked, or crawled or flew was dead.

He brooded on the conversation he had had with Nwm only an hour before; the Preceptor had made a journey to Sisperi, to engage the help of Lai and her handmaidens. There was a precedent: with the Saints and Oronthonist adepts, Nwm had said that he could _resurrect_ every single victim of the _storm of blood_.

The _Ahma_ had acquiesced, but his heart felt heavy. This was madness: it seemed too massive. Still, he would cede all authority and trust Nwm on this count: this must be quickly undone, and the Viridity must manifest; heal the wound. Death means nothing: this must be demonstrated. 

Tahl had offered to be the sacrifice.

"I will bleed," Eadric had said. It was proper. He was the _Ahma_. He wondered if the slain would even return; most now basked in Radiance: such had been his pronouncement upon the Faithful who suffered in this war.

_Dare I command them back? Who am I to deny bliss to any?_ But then _It is not I, but Nwm who issues the plea. By whatever power._

After an hour, the Preceptor instructed the _Ahma_ to attend an altar he had erected beneath an orange tree; the same spot upon which Feezuu had annihilated Cynric, and Graz'zt had pronounced his curse upon Morne. The wound was deepest there. There were assembled Saints and Talions, many flamines and scrollbearers of the Temple, Lai, Mesikammi and a half-dozen Uediian priestesses.

For the first time in his life, Nwm invoked the Sun-god; he offered the blood of the _Ahma_ as sacrifice and named Nehael as his intercessor. He supplicated Uedii in her aspect as Wisdom, and evoked the full power of the Viridity. The same flint knife he had used to cut Lai, he now employed upon Eadric, opening gaping wounds upon his arms. His face became pale.

A great pneuma arose, and a vibrancy permeated everything. The rivers were suddenly rich with fish; life returned to the woods and fields; flocks of birds appeared in the skies above. 

The two hundred thousand souls who were recalled by Nwm from the Serenities were not untouched by their tenure in the upper altitudes of the Empyrean. Each of them brought a little of it back with them.

As Tahl arrested the flow of blood from his arms, it dawned on Eadric suddenly; an irrefutable truth.

They could win.



*


----------



## Annalist

An update! *runs excitedly into a wall* So much going on! So many thoughts and questions going through my head! So much glorious imagery! *brain overloads*

Mostin and Soneillon working together - I shudder to think what crazy things they can accomplish.

Eadric vs. cthonics! Wish I could have been ringside for that.

Orolde (one of my favorite NPCs) needs a Story Hour of his own. 

The Adversary and his new minions, what are they up to?

And man, Rimilin has really gotten powerful. Mostin better watch his back.

A possible Graz'zt vs. Mulissu?!

Tagur is back!

And Eadric and Nwm as awesome as always. Need more Ortwine in the next installment though!


----------



## Roman

Wow, Sep is on the roll with updates!  *Roman sneaks off to read the update*


----------



## Knightfall

Christmas is definitely coming early this year. Way to go, Sep. Another great update.


----------



## Roman

Just finished reading it and all I can say is... wow! This is amazing and it is truly epic. Eadric and NWM resurrected an entire nation!


----------



## Atanatotatos

Wow! Just so good...

If I may ask, what levels/ECL are the heroes at this point in the story?


----------



## Quartz

Oh my!


----------



## Noir

Amazingly good as always sep.


----------



## the Jester

Fantastic. Continues to be fantastic.


----------



## Jackylhunter

Thanks for the holiday update Sep.  I always love reading about Mourne.  

Keep them coming!!


----------



## Samnell

Roman said:


> Just finished reading it and all I can say is... wow! This is amazing and it is truly epic. Eadric and NWM resurrected an entire nation!




I read it that it was only a city and maybe its surrounds. Wyre is the name of the nation. Morne is the name of the city.


----------



## Roman

Samnell said:


> I read it that it was only a city and maybe its surrounds. Wyre is the name of the nation. Morne is the name of the city.




Maybe you are right, but regardless, it was an *epic* resurrection.


----------



## Roman

Due to the general trends in the story, as well as because of the most recent events, I am wondering about the distinctiveness of Oronthonian and Uedian perspectives. It seems that these are beginning to tend together and I would posit that this may even result in a 'unified' perspective where Oronthon is the male aspect and the Uedian beliefs correspond to the female aspect of the perspective.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Splendid.


----------



## Trigo

grodog said:


> In the meanwhile, if you want to download the SH, you should be able to print it to .pdf via the thread tools, IIRC.




I am missing it, or has the download thread feature now gone? Thanks.


----------



## grodog

Trigo said:


> I am missing it, or has the download thread feature now gone? Thanks.




Must be gone, sorry Trigo.  Eridanis, any ideas?---is this an artifact of the recent-ish upgrade?

I'm worried about Mulissu being killed by Graz'zt again   While I'm impressed with Eadric's faith, I'm not sure I see good with a ready-win, at this point.  Or, instead of reconciling Oronthonism and Uedian beliefs, is the/an reconciliation between the Adversary and Oronthon looming, perhaps?  

Alternately, if the eschaton is at hand---and that seems likely, given the possible Viridity looming as well---that doesn't have to mean the destruction of everything, but instead the world being reborn/remade/recast in light of Shaizan.  Perhaps?

Regardless:  great stuff Sep.  Thanks!


----------



## Roman

grodog said:


> Or, instead of reconciling Oronthonism and Uedian beliefs, is the/an reconciliation between the Adversary and Oronthon looming, perhaps?




It seems to me that Oronthonian and Uedian beliefs are already mostly reconciled... it's just that it's not official yet. Reconciliation between the Adversary and Oronthon is also possible (though the Adversary might merely be scheming, which is less likely to be said of Nature), why not have both reconciliations? Heck, eventually, Eschaton could result in the ultimate success of Shaizan, where all perspectives are reconciled... which would also be the end of Shaizan and perhaps the world.


----------



## Ridley's Cohort

Roman said:


> It seems to me that Oronthonian and Uedian beliefs are already mostly reconciled... it's just that it's not official yet. Reconciliation between the Adversary and Oronthon is also possible (though the Adversary might merely be scheming, which is less likely to be said of Nature), why not have both reconciliations? Heck, eventually, Eschaton could result in the ultimate success of Shaizan, where all perspectives are reconciled... which would also be the end of Shaizan and perhaps the world.




Speculatively speaking, reconciliation of Oronthonianism and Uedism is a challenge to the status of the Adversary, as it opens up Oronthonianism to a vast degree of freedom under a flexible yet positive view of morality.

Whether the Adversary would see such a challenge as a positive or negative development is an open question.  Would the Adversary choose freedom over power?

The nihilistic enemies arrayed against Eadric are not actually a genuine philosophical challenge, as there is no practical option other than fight.  This does pose a philosophical challenge to the perspective of the Adversary.  What price would he pay for power?


----------



## rantipole

Two updates since I last checked! Merry Christmas indeed! 

Does anyone have the link to the thread where the stats of the characters are kept? I can't find it anymore. (yes, I know this is lame). 

Thanks!

Cheers,
rant


----------



## Roman

The last to be updated were Eadric's stats: http://www.enworld.org/forum/plots-places/5652-eadric-et-al-paladin-his-friends-35.html 

They are from 9 months ago, but they were ahead of time, so we don't know whether Eadric has reached this level yet or whether he has surpassed it.


----------



## KaawGorecrow

*It continues to amaze me*

Wow....


----------



## grodog

Over @ http://www.enworld.org/forum/genera...eon-where-would-you-put-em-2.html#post4585528



Sepulchrave II said:


> Maldev from Q1.




Relatedly, Sep, do you have any plans to publish Afqithan, by chance?  I think it would be pretty modular compared to the rest of the Wyre corpus of materials, and would be pretty plug-and-play for most DMs.


----------



## Knightfall

grodog said:


> Relatedly, Sep, do you have any plans to publish Afqithan, by chance?  I think it would be pretty modular compared to the rest of the Wyre corpus of materials, and would be pretty plug-and-play for most DMs.



I'd like to see that too; although, I'd likely build my own alternate version of Afqithan for my Mirrored Cosmology. I'd simply use Sep's notes as a baseline. Part of me thinking that my version would also be inspired by the 4e Manual of the Planes, which I'm definitely going to get, as well. I think I could build an interesting Afqithan variant based on combining the Shadowfell and the Feywild.


----------



## grodog

Happy New Year to Sep, his players, and all Wyre readers!


----------



## Jackylhunter

grodog said:


> Happy New Year to Sep, his players, and all Wyre readers!




Thanks Grodog, same right back at ya!!!


----------



## The Forsaken One

Best of wishes to everyone for 2009! Hope everyone has a great gaming (and writing ) year in good health and spirit!


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Urbs Cœlestis*


The Sun was at its zenith when Tiuhan Gultheins, the boy-king of Wyre, awoke within his own chambers. He recalled a brief, hideous nightmare of great violence, followed by a glorious ecstasy which lay outside of time; a brilliance which persisted for uncounted aeons.

His choice to forego bliss – for such he had made – had issued from an ethical centre which Tiuhan had not known he possessed. A necessary selfless action, he knew, in response to a request which had arisen from the Ocean of Fire and Light, the memory of which filled him with warmth and fortified his soul. He recalled that golden boars – archaic protectors of the royal house – had borne him away from it; once again, his spirit was housed in flesh.

He felt unusually peaceful; an urge to meditate and pray settled on him before even the fog of waking departed. He arose and gazed at himself in the mirror.

The Empyrean filled his face, in both memory and anticipation. There was no fear in him; he laughed and cried for joy. He could return again at any time; his abiding in this crude form would pass as the blink of an eye in eternity. He washed and dressed himself, and departed from his suite; it was noon, and others were also only just starting to go about their business. 

Standing on the parapet, he noticed a calm industry and purpose seemed to possess the citizens of Morne, as though each were pursuing a task both ordained and well-practiced. Household knights and men-at-arms were beginning to assemble in the baileys beneath the inner walls of the palace; masons were loading the cranes around the Great Fane with cut marble. Servants toiled contentedly. Gardeners were pruning with particular attention to detail. There were no raised voices. No beatings. Light suffused everything.

Tiuhan gazed at the Temple compound. In a quiet corner, an old, bent yew-tree; it had taken root a thousand years before, but Tiuhan also recalled that before today, no such tree had stood there. He pondered its significance, as did another his own age or a little older: a youth stood near to it and inspected it, his arms folded.

The great bell in the tower of the Fane began to ring; a slow, steady note of enormous depth, with complex overtones. The campaniles around the city swiftly took up its cue, and a music at once both spontaneous and perfectly orchestrated suddenly flourished.

King Tiuhan stood and listened for a while, before tearing himself away. He had a vast administrative backlog which he had been neglecting, and the Small Council was meeting in an hour.


**


In shadow, Mazikreen slipped unseen with great speed through the streets of Fumaril; its inhabitants were still milling in the streets, speculating as to the import of the darkness which covered the city. The succubus must locate and dispatch five targets: two priestesses of the goddess Jeshi, and three Pand Wind-Sorcerers who had taken up residence in the Tyrant's palace. They were pivotal members of Mulissu's cabal, and the ceremony for the reinvigoration of the Paling – which required their contribution – was due to take place in half an hour.

She moved along the waterfront, leaving a trail of corpses and _charmed_ informants who directed her to the temple of the wind-goddess – a modest affair by Thalassine standards – and thence to the palace courtyards.

She discharged her mission efficiently, avoiding detection by the slow-witted djinn who acted as sentries, and eliminating all of her targets quickly; Mazikreen felt a touch of annoyance that her last – the sorcerer Ehieu – had noticed her presence before dying. 

Alarms were being raised as she slid back over the city wall, and vanished like a shade into the unnatural night.


**


Mulissu immediately issued an appeal to Mostin, Daunton, and a half-dozen other Wyrish mages for aid: _I need help. The Paling must go up in fifteen minutes, or Fumaril is doomed: make your choice._

Mostin cursed. He was due to convoke his cabal in three hours, but could hardly refuse. 
Mulissu conveyed the coordinates of a temporary exempt bubble within the lock of the Paling, and Mostin _teleported_ to it forthwith. 

Jalael and Troap – two of those whom Mostin had previously suborned – were already present.

He fixed Mulissu stonily. "I trust the drain on our collective reservoirs will be of small amplitude?"

"Your generosity overwhelms," Mulissu said drily. "It will be negligible. You did not predict this event?"

"No," Mostin confessed. "Or not exactly. But I knew that it would be an inopportune time to request your direct inclusion in the cabal; hence you will make the transference. Also, I trust no other wizard to be able to effectively _dominate_ Graz'zt."

"Can I have him?"

"Sorry, Mulissu. I have already promised him to Soneillon. I have a year of informal compact with her, or six remaining discrete services, whichever passes first."

"If you were anyone else, that would mean other than it does."

"I am not oblivious to the existence of certain baser urges," Mostin explained, "but I have utterly transcended the notion of coitus. Nor do I any longer require the use of a latrine."

Daunton appeared.

"About time," the Savant said.

Once again, the Paling was erected. Mulissu sighed. She couldn't take much more of this.


**


"Infernal is very last epoch, Mostin," Jalael gazed around the tower's reception hall. "How much for the solar?"

"He is not for sale. He's an antique. Captured during the Fall."

"You need to develop an alternate strategy, Mostin," Soneillon was visibly irked. "One cannot conjure a demon who has already been called."

Mostin scowled.  "I have anticipated the possibility. Do you think I'm a fool? He is unbound. The ritual proceeds as scheduled. He is outside his sanctum; his _foresight_ will not avail him, nor his _mind blank_. He has erected another protection: a ward which will discharge upon contact with a hostile conjuration. That will fail also. I will bind him in the Astral."

Jalael's hideous face screwed up. Doubt now possessed her. The Hag's offer to aid Mostin had been made to head off what she had considered to be a celestial threat; events had since transpired to make the situation far more complex. 

Mostin, sensing her ambivalence, fixed her with his uncanny gaze. 

"I am not about to back out of this, and neither are you," he said. 

"No," Jalael growled. "I'm not. But nor will I let you forget this. Had I known that you had switched your allegiance anyway, I might have been more reticent in rendering aid."

"It takes a quick mind to anticipate me," Mostin nodded sagely. "But had _I_ known that the celestials themselves were about to reconsider their programming, I might not have been so eager to relinquish direct control. Still, what is done is done. Their orders remain the same; although the implementation may be rather more inventive. I trust that the rest of you are as good as your word?"

Muthollo nodded resentfully; Troap seemed unfazed: he liked Mostin and – for a wizard, at least – the goblin was unusually generous in his dealings with others. In the final configuration of spells which Mostin had opted for, only six mages – including Sho – would be required; Soneillon would cover the not insubstantial magickal deficit. Orolde would remain as an observer.

Mostin _plane shifted_ his tower to a remote island of astral matter, where it abutted an already existing stronghold, merging seamlessly with its architecture. He removed himself to an obsidian binding chamber, and began to inscribe a thaumaturgic diagram from powdered celestial metals.


**


The _Ahma_ was present when the Small Council convened: a dozen of Wyre's leading temporal magnates, amongst whom were Tagur, Sihu, Jholion of Methelhar and Attar the Warden. Six, including the Lord Chamberlain Foide and Skett of Mord, were absent, and remained in their own demesnes: nobles who had been subject to neither the _storm of blood_ nor the subsequent Reversal. Saints and Talions sat upon the episcopal thrones which the Lords Spiritual of Wyre – whose bishoprics had been dissolved after the accession of the _Sela_ – had once occupied.

"I will try to explain circumstances as best I understand them," Eadric sat in his armour on a low stool next to the king, which creaked under the weight. "First, the greatest of the Cheshnite spellcasters have already unleashed many of their most potent spells. A certain arcanist of my acquaintance – whose methods of garnering intelligence are dubious, but the accuracy of which is generally high – posits the following situation: 

"Yeshe is depleted, and will for some time have to content herself with _binding_ nothing more significant than powerful balors – _depletion_ is a relative term. Sibud has exhausted his credit – which was poor – with the Cheshnite cabals, and hopefully we can expect no more _storms of blood_ for the time being. Temenun may have drawn a cupful of power from his reservoir, and remains strong; his armamentarium is already replenished.

"Guho, Choach and Rishih have been engaged in the solidifying of the Cheshnite defense, the erection of _teleportation circles_, and the subjugation of the Thalassine nobility, but it is likely that their _real_ power has yet to be manifested. Rishih has also been active in conjuring demons: he has restricted himself to lesser nobility. Furthermore, he enjoys prestige amongst certain of the cabals; in general, his more conservative approach is well-received.

"The goddess Dhatri has invoked a blanket of darkness, and has set forth from Jashat in what is known as her _Procession_, an event which might be said to mark the formal beginning of hostilities. With her are Prahar, a number of evil godlings, and Visuit the Butcher, against whom we cannot yet stand. And many tens of thousands of lesser minions.

"The demons Graz'zt, Pazuzu, Alrunes, Ahazu and Baphomet are at large. Pazuzu is pactbonded with Yeshe and acts as the instrument of her will; Baphomet is enslaved by Prahar. Graz'zt is a wild card whose activities we cannot anticipate. Ahazu and Alrunes have yet to show themselves beyond their pavillions.

"Four celestial princes – those covenanted by Mostin the Metagnostic – have _Fallen_. The Adversary has seduced them. The motivations of the Nameless Fiend are unguessable. At present, the actions of the debased celestials have proven to be not antithetical to our own needs: they have eliminated the demon lord Munkir, and are disrupting affairs beneath the _Pall of Dhatri_. This congruence of purpose may or may not last."

Prince Tagur looked uncomfortable. "Then what do we do?"

Eadric sighed. "We find ourselves in a curious position. I suggest we move half of Morne's garrison – including all of the royal knights – immediately south to join the main Temple force; those who experienced the Reversal have become amongst our most formidable soldiers. Furthermore, we have to move outside of Wyre proper; the active participation of Wyre's wizards is more appealing than the incidental protection which the Enforcer offers us."

"Wizards are not trustworthy," Saint Anaqiss observed.

"You are correct," the _Ahma_ agreed. "Still, that is the plan. We break camp tomorrow."

"So we march on the Thalassine?" Sihu inquired.

"Yes."

"All men will flock to your banner," Wurz declared.

_I sincerely hope not_, Eadric thought. _I will have enough blood on my hands as it is._

"Which wizards have sworn oaths to Oronthon?" Saint Wurz asked.

"As yet, none," Eadric smiled at the naïveté of the question. "Nor do I expect any to. We may depend on Daunton almost definitely, and on Mostin probably, although any aid which he lends will doubtless be viewed dimly by the pious. Mulissu, perhaps; although Fumaril's concerns preoccupy her. Hlioth is an unlikely candidate, but I suspect she might prove the most useful of any of them were she to act.

"At present, our best defense may be offered by Nwm the Preceptor, who is capable of coordinating diverse magical energies. Currently, with the adepts, he is engaged in protecting the Temple encampment more thoroughly from attack: I wish no repeat of the assault launched by Temenun's demons. I have asked him to invoke a mobile defense; it will move as the _Sela_'s tabernacle moves.

"Lastly, we can expect a period of quiescence while the Cheshnites adjust to the fact that death might be no particular obstacle to us. Mostin anticipates that they will change tack."

Tagur gave an inquiring look.

"They'll try to imprison souls," the _Ahma_ explained.

King Tiuhan swallowed. "I will take to the field. I will need guidance."

Sihu looked dubious. "Your Majesty…"

Saint Tahl interrupted her. "I agree with the King. There is nowhere safer. That has been amply demonstrated."


**


Nwm watched as the _Sela_ gave a lesson. There was no sense that Oronthon's proxy was in any way unsettled by events; being invested by the Supernal apparently granted one a certain perspective to which ordinary mortals were not privy.

_But ordinary mortals are a dwindling breed_, Nwm observed.

The Preceptor felt uncomfortable. He had struck compromises which – prior to current events – he would not have even considered. Although, having counselled the _Ahma_ to adopt a Reconciliationist position, he could hardly do less himself. 

But Nwm alone knew that – at the climax of the rite to revivify Morne – his designs had been shifted; agents of the Sun-god had interfered with the pattern. The massive matrix of magical energy which Nwm had created had been reordered to better suit the celestial agenda. The Illumination of Morne's citizenry had certainly not been his original intention.

As the lesson concluded and the devotees dispersed, Nwm approached the _Sela_, who sat in _Saizhan_.

"You are perturbed," the _Sela_ observed.

"No, I'm pissed off," Nwm replied.

"The Host does not answer to me. I understand your anger, but I cannot offer redress."

"You passivity is impossible," Nwm groaned. 

"If you think so. I would gladly receive any wisdom in these matters." Tramst was ironic, yet perfectly earnest. "The Host is attempting to interpret Oronthon's will, and is sometimes fallible in its judgments, according to its own standards. Oronthon is utterly ineffable: celestials are not. The fact that four archfiends were recently born might be viewed as a cosmic blunder on the part of Enitharmon."

Nwm raised an eyebrow. "An opinion?"

"It is not within my purview; hence I make efforts to remove myself."

"You remain open," Nwm observed. "Your feelings may be changed in that regard."

Tramst smiled softly. "I mean no disrespect, Preceptor, but one rather more skillful than you views this as his ongoing project. I cannot become embroiled in politics. That is why there is an _Ahma_."

"And Oronthon's eschaton? How do you relate to that?"

"_Saizhan_ is the disintegration of all previously held conception. The Viridity can be understood as a reflex; an inevitable rebirth. _Saizhan_ itself is the eschaton, symbolically speaking."

Nwm gaped. "This is your belief?"

"Indeed, no," the _Sela_ smiled. "I make no metaphysical assertions. On doctrinal matters, I also suggest consulting the _Ahma_."

"Ngaargh!" Nwm threw up his hands. "Can you not make one categorical statement of truth? Or at least posit an opinion which is your own?"

"Regarding what?"

"Regarding anything," Nwm groaned.

"Certainly," the _Sela_ answered. "Nehael is the Supreme Empathy." 

Nwm squinted. "There is a lot of Urgic baggage attached to that term, and its implicit philosophical gravity is lost on me."

"Then you have a chance to understand it," the _Sela_ smiled broadly.


**


Several hundred tapers burned steadily within the chamber.

Mostin had opted for a triangle in preference to a pentacle. The symbolic apex – where the Alienist would stand – was aligned with the Empyrean; Troap and Sho stood at either other trine, dexter and sinister as seen from the Throne of Oronthon; behind them were Muthollo and Jalael, respectively. A complex motif of overlapping symbols connected an ideogram within the circle's outer ring to a second diagram of more modest dimension, wherein Soneillon was positioned, opposed to Mostin. Here, a brazier of silver also stood, upon which exotic incense burned. 

Mulissu waited outside of the pattern. Pungent smoke billowed around her as she floated.

As Ashva rose in Jashat, Mostin began to mutter and gesticulate, weaving a net of little subtlety but great potency. Salt, silver and cold iron were flung generously in all directions. Magic flowed; Soneillon opened her reservoir. Reality bent.

Graz'zt manifested, incredulous, and flung himself impotently against the barrier which contained him. Even as the first wave of ritual energy around the room dissipated, the Alienist had already begun to cast another spell of tremendous power. Mulissu gathered her energies in synchrony.

Mostin unleashed a _dispelling_; _death wards_ and _mind blanks_ crashed, a hundred dweomered items became comatose. Soneillon flickered on the edge of being. Graz'zt became vulnerable.

At precisely that moment, Mulissu _dominated_ the demon with a transvalent spell.

*YOUR MIND BLANK STAYS DOWN. INVOKE NO POWER. DO ONLY AS I COMMAND.*

The Savant turned to Mostin. "I have him."

*

Orolde stepped forward, and, in a trice, magically divested Prince Graz'zt of all of his personal effects.

The next minute – which was the time it took Mostin to complete the _binding_ ritual – was the longest of his life. At several junctures, acute paranoia threatened to overcome him, but at the end of it, naked and humiliated, Graz'zt was confined within a ten-inch globe of adamant.

Immediately, Soneillon proffered her upturned palm to receive the sphere. As he watched his pseudopod – which was wrapped around the captured demon prince – move toward her, a sudden prescience of indefinable quality but great surety passed through the Alienist's mind.

Instead of giving it to her, Mostin spoke two powerful syllables, and Soneillon vanished.

Sho gaped. 

Jalael, in anticipation of attack from Mostin, immediately erected a _mind blank_.

"She would have betrayed me," Mostin explained, holding up his hand in a gesture of appeasement. "Goetic protocols just don't command the respect that they used to."

"Where did you send her?" 

"Outside. She will need to find a way to come back through Dream. It will take her some time."

Mulissu looked at him suspiciously. "What are you up to Mostin?"

But Mostin's eyes – and those of the other wizards – were turned toward Orolde. 

"There are _portable holes_ here," the sprite said. "There are a number of _cubic gates_ also. And this."

Orolde held up Graz'zt's amulet.

"And this."

A small key.

Jalael cursed impatiently. "Open the holes. Empty everything out."



*


----------



## Atanatotatos

Holy ****!


----------



## the Jester

Happy New Year, guys! 

Mostin just can't keep an alliance for any length of time, can he?


----------



## Noir

Beautiful. Thanks Sep!


----------



## Erevanden

Holy Smokin' Potatoes !! 

A wonderful New Year's gift, Sepulchrave, bravo !!

I would also like to take on an adversarial role and tempt you to make some additions to the Plots & Places thread 

_** munches on some candied chestnut **_


----------



## EroGaki

I know it doesn't need to be said, but I will anyway: Mostin rocks!!!


----------



## Vorput

Sepulchrave II said:


> At several junctures, acute paranoia threatened to overcome him, but at the end of it, naked and humiliated, Graz'zt was confined within a ten-inch globe of adamant.




Ah, a resolution of sorts.  I finally can stop reading this story hour happily.  I won't mind you, but the Graz'zt thread is finally resolved (sort of).  That makes me happy


----------



## Moleculo

Awesome, as usual.


----------



## Shieldhaven

The... buh... huh...

...whoa.

Wow.

Okay then.

Haven


----------



## Knightfall

That was genuine!


----------



## carborundum

Wow. Thanks Sep - that was as mind-blowing as ever!

_Can anyone explain the cubic gate/ portable hole/ small key/ bracelet thing, or is that not supposed to be obvious yet?_


----------



## Jackylhunter

carborundum said:


> Wow. Thanks Sep - that was as mind-blowing as ever!
> 
> _Can anyone explain the cubic gate/ portable hole/ small key/ bracelet thing, or is that not supposed to be obvious yet?_




I _THINK_ they are hoping to find Pheramnes(sp) urn, but that is just a guess.


----------



## Vorput

carborundum said:


> Wow. Thanks Sep - that was as mind-blowing as ever!
> 
> _Can anyone explain the cubic gate/ portable hole/ small key/ bracelet thing, or is that not supposed to be obvious yet?_




I'm thinking maybe they're going to trade something for Graz'zt?  Or rather try to make some sort of trade amongst themselves for the various things.

Edit:  Never mind, re-read it.  I believe it's as simple as this:  they've killed Graz'zt- now they get to take his stuff.


----------



## The Forsaken One

This was insanely cool, and they had some presents for christmas as well it seems .

Holy smokes that's some insane loot from those holes I bet haha! Nevermind his amulet and the key is going to be very interesting I bet!

His sanctum key perhaps?


----------



## grodog

Has Mulissu's daughter been recovered yet??---I don't recall:  perhaps her soul is in there somewhere?

edit:  and does anyone know what "Urbs Cœlestis" means?


----------



## Avarice

grodog said:


> edit:  and does anyone know what "Urbs Cœlestis" means?




No, but if I were to venture a guess, I'd say it meant _Heavenly City,_ or something to that effect.  The citizens of Morne seem to have undergone a pretty radical transformation; I wonder what game effect, if any, was applied to them.  Was it something as simple as investing them with the half-celestial template, or something similar?  Or is there something more intricate at work there?


----------



## Rary the Traitor

Wow, Mostin finally did it. How long has he (and his player) been waiting to use _that_ spell?


----------



## Rackhir

grodog said:


> Has Mulissu's daughter been recovered yet??---I don't recall:  perhaps her soul is in there somewhere?




She was freed about 2 yr ago, this post here.

http://www.enworld.org/forum/story-hour/58227-tales-wyre-11-26-08-update-7.html#post2029342


----------



## Baron Opal

carborundum said:


> Can anyone explain the cubic gate/ portable hole/ small key/ bracelet thing, or is that not supposed to be obvious yet?




I thought that they were going to do a variation of the bag of holding / portable hole trick. That would make sure Graz'zt would be lost for practically forever. But, I think Jackylhunter has the right of it. 

Which, by the by, will frustrate Rimilin to no end.


----------



## EroGaki

carborundum said:


> Wow. Thanks Sep - that was as mind-blowing as ever!
> 
> _Can anyone explain the cubic gate/ portable hole/ small key/ bracelet thing, or is that not supposed to be obvious yet?_




Graz'zt and his retainers had most of the portable wealth/magic items or Azzagrat with them, along with who knows what else. And perhaps the Urn.


----------



## carborundum

Baron Opal said:


> I thought that they were going to do a variation of the bag of holding / portable hole trick.




That's what I thought first, except I'd never heard of it being done that way. Beat him and take his stuff sounds right though. 

I'm also wondering where the gates go, and what sorts of raids they could pull off...


----------



## The Forsaken One

carborundum said:


> That's what I thought first, except I'd never heard of it being done that way. Beat him and take his stuff sounds right though.
> 
> I'm also wondering where the gates go, and what sorts of raids they could pull off...




I presume most of them will lead to planar strongholds of grazzts vasals. If people could clear them out there might be some interesting realestate up for grabs.


----------



## grodog

Rackhir said:


> She was freed about 2 yr ago, this post here.
> http://www.enworld.org/forum/story-hour/58227-tales-wyre-11-26-08-update-7.html#post2029342




Thanks Rackhir:  I'd completely forgotten about that episode (or, perhaps never read it!).  

Over in another thread, I speculated that:  "I think the SH and the campaign is moving into an "End Times" mode, however, but even then, I'm not at all sure that it'll be "done" even if the whole of the world of Wyre is abolished in Wyrish Armageddon. However, the major plot arc involving Graz'zt is basically closed now, so that's likely as much resolution as we're likely to see, I think."

Any thoughts on the imminence of the Wyrish escaton?


----------



## Rackhir

grodog said:


> Thanks Rackhir:  I'd completely forgotten about that episode (or, perhaps never read it!).




Np, I have WAAAAYYYY too much of my brain devoted to trivia like that.  



grodog said:


> Over in another thread, I speculated that:  "I think the SH and the campaign is moving into an "End Times" mode, however, but even then, I'm not at all sure that it'll be "done" even if the whole of the world of Wyre is abolished in Wyrish Armageddon. However, the major plot arc involving Graz'zt is basically closed now, so that's likely as much resolution as we're likely to see, I think."






			
				Shmendrick -The Last Unicorn said:
			
		

> There are no happy endings, because nothing ever ends.




I'd like to know exactly what was the source of Mostin's inspiration about Sonellion's betrayal.


----------



## Noir

Rackhir said:


> I'd like to know exactly what was the source of Mostin's inspiration about Sonellion's betrayal.




Web of Motes? Her chtonic state makes her unpredictable even for someone using the web though. Maybe he could identify with her (and knew what he would do or would not do), since the two of them are problably the most alien characters in the SH (excepting of course some who we know but by name).


----------



## Noir

double post.


----------



## Shieldhaven

Personally? I think it was a subtle nudge from the Adversary.

But then, I've been reading _Screwtape Letters_ recently.

Haven


----------



## grodog

Probably one of those moments of player epiphany that wreck a DM's plans


----------



## carborundum

Or player paranoia.

I know if I'd just pulled off that amount of stuff, I'd be terrified it could all unravel - and probably to the point of shoot first/ justify afterwards.


----------



## The Forsaken One

IIRC This is the way they implement what they learned through the web of motes after their boosted intellect and foresight fades away. Little deja vu's and revelations with some familiarity to them.

Mostin stood there and had a deja vu with an earlier experience, namely one he unravelled from the web of motes concerning the soneillon mote and the interaction it had with his in this certain scenario. 

They don't RP through everything they learn from the web, all the questions etc cause its simply impossible to ask and relate like a 120 intellect 89328293892389239823 spellcraft max buffed crazy ubermage. They just have the players ask certain immediate things and the DM/Sep just gives them these things once he's like "ok you saw this and this during your web of most experience that time" or some remnant there of like this feeling.

Correct me if im wrong .


----------



## Shieldhaven

Oh, and another thing that deserves to be remembered in very clear terms.

Mostin. Is. INSANE.



Haven


----------



## Atanatotatos

Plus, it was IMO the best course of action even without knowledge of the future. The ritual was what Mostin needed Soneillon for, anyway (mostly). So why taking that risk...?


----------



## tleilaxu

When I read it, I thought the twitch of Mostin's tentacle indicated the prescience was part of his pseudonatural power. After all, he is the master diviner, ripper of secrets from beyond the cosmos.


----------



## Joshua Randall

> at the end of it, naked and humiliated, Graz'zt was confined within a ten-inch globe of adamant.



Yes.

This is the perfect complement to my favorite line from the story hour, from very early on, when Eadric, Mostin, Nwm, and Ortwin eliminated Rurunoth:



> Throughout, Rurunoth threatened, and cajoled, and entreated, and pleaded, and finally begged.
> 
> YOU MUST MAKE AN OFFER, he screamed.
> 
> "Why?" Asked Eadric.
> 
> WHAT DO YOU WANT? Terror, now.
> 
> "Nothing from you." The Paladin said. In a moment of clear certainty, the fear fell from Eadric as he looked at the forces arrayed against the demon. There was no way that Rurunoth could prevail against them, even if the spell failed and the circle broke. The demon would flee, if he had the chance, or be cut down in a matter of seconds otherwise.
> 
> *"You are nothing," said Eadric.*


----------



## Roman

Great update!


----------



## Nightbreeze

Huh...wow. I can understand why Nwn is so pissed off...the celestials took the greatest miracle he has ever created and transformed it into a mass-brainwash 

And I am sorry about the fact that Soneillon decided to turn coat...although she is absolutely evil, I somehow sympathize with her.


----------



## Justin

Nightbreeze said:


> And I am sorry about the fact that Soneillon decided to turn coat...although she is absolutely evil, I somehow sympathize with her.




A Charisma of 50 will do that to you.


----------



## Vorput

Justin said:


> A Charisma of 50 will do that to you.




lol


----------



## grodog

Hola Sep:  can you give us an update on where you are with the story viz-a-viz PC activities?  Just curious!  

Also:  has it been your intent as the campaign progressed to turn it into an apocalyptic/end times type of game, or did that evolve organically out of player actions and monster/NPC responses?  

Thanks, as always, for your wonderful work.  I hope you publish something Wyrish, someday, in some capacity


----------



## Atanatotatos

grodog said:


> Hola Sep:  can you give us an update on where you are with the story viz-a-viz PC activities?  Just curious!
> 
> Also:  has it been your intent as the campaign progressed to turn it into an apocalyptic/end times type of game, or did that evolve organically out of player actions and monster/NPC responses?
> 
> Thanks, as always, for your wonderful work.  I hope you publish something Wyrish, someday, in some capacity




Starvingly seconded...


----------



## Moon_Goddess

I've been reading Wyre since the very first post.   I don't even remember when that was.
Way back in the General Discussion forum askign for advice about dealing with a succubus.



That had to be years ago.   Even then, Lady Despina worked for Graz'zt.      Graz'zt has always been the true enemy of this whole story.   it's like years of my attention has just paid off.


----------



## grodog

Bump


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Sorry for the delay. Been busy. 

***




Teppu strode up to the ramshackle building, and ascended the three steps onto its porch.

It was somewhat more than a cottage, but rather less than a mansion; its three levels boasted no more than twenty rooms, all told. Although the sprite perceived that two dozen extradimensional spaces – ranging in size from hidden cubby holes to a suite of dedicated summoning chambers – abutted it; its total internal volume might be four times larger. It occurred to Teppu that Mostin might possess a particular attachment to the notion of _space_.

Teppu adjusted his hat, coughed, and rapped upon the door. He placed his hands behind his back, whistled softly, and glanced around approvingly. The nymph who dwelt nearby had been persuaded to bring forth numerous wildflowers around the manse: sorrel and stitchwort; purslanes, bluebells and wood-anemones. The veranda had been situated for the perfect dappled shade beneath an ancient elm.

A slender fey – perhaps five-feet tall, with nut-brown skin and an impudent smile – opened the door.

Teppu raised an eyebrow. This was neither Orolde nor Mei. Who else lived here? A servant?

"Greetings," Teppu doffed his cap. "I was not expecting you."

The other seemed unfazed. "Teppu," he said warmly. "Please come in. Orolde is presently indisposed."

"You have me at a disadvantage," the sprite replied suspiciously.

"Do not concern yourself. I know of only One to whom that does not apply."

"Then inquiring as to your name would be pointless," Teppu nodded. "Is your manifestation as a fey for my benefit? Have you taken up residence here?" 

"Temporarily," The Adversary nodded affably. "Although I've been spending a good deal of time in Morne. As to my chosen form, I attempt to remain unobtrusive in my actions. I have rather a reputation in that regard."

"And the _simulacrum_?" Teppu cocked his head.

"Is accepting of my presence. But I find this place quite charming; I also confess that my lodging here has a certain symmetry to it, given the owner's current choice of abode."

"That is an eloquent premise for circumventing Nehael's fence," Teppu bowed politely.

"I am gratified that you appreciate it," the other replied. His tone was self-mocking. "I boldly straddle paradigms. Now. Will you remain on the porch?"

Teppu shrugged, and followed him in, closing the door behind him. He glanced around; the place was cluttered but comfortable. Teppu suspected that Orolde had already begun to arrange things more to his liking.

"Would you care for tea?" The Adversary inquired.

"Certainly," Teppu nodded, sitting at Mostin's kitchen table.

"Where should we begin?"

"I think one should always warm the pot," Teppu replied drily.

"An argument? I would contend that the extra labor does not contribute to the quality of the brew." 

Teppu nodded. "That may be so. But I find the ritual reinforces the experience."

The Adversary smiled, and sat opposite. "In my cosmic capacity – as the Embodiment of Pure Will – you will probably appreciate the limited use of ritual to me. However, I will follow your instruction; let it not be said that I am insensitive to others' observances."

Teppu sighed. "Allow me to gird my intellect, if you would; I suspect nuances to this exchange which will otherwise elude me."

"As you wish," the Adversary waved a hand casually. "Everyone is always so suspicious."


**


Screaming, inchoate rage. A desire to rend, profane and destroy all that was not he. But also a furious plotting which followed a thousand permutations simultaneously.

He was Graz'zt. He had been caught before; he had escaped before.

Mostin's face loomed above him, filling immensity.

"Your Highness," the idiot drawled like deranged sky-god. "We can be civil about this: you divulge information which I require, and I spare you from unimaginable tortures."

Graz'zt's intuition told him that the Alienist had no coercive spells available to him. 

He remained silent.

*

Mostin rattled the three _cubic gates_ together in his closed palm and stared into the blank sphere. The treasure of Azzagrat lay heaped around him.

Inside the globe – although apparently shy at revealing his countenance on its surface – was trapped the demon prince Graz'zt. Mostin – who experienced a state of disappointed anticlimax with regard to the contained fiend – was presently unprepared to _torment_ the Prince into a more receptive mood.

There was no damn urn. Just a key.

"Well?" Mulissu asked.

Mostin grimaced, and shook his pseudopod in a gesture which Mulissu interpreted as irritation.

"You think you can face them down?"

"I _know_ I can. I have foreseen it; but other futures might hold better prospects."

"Choose swiftly," Mulissu groaned. "News travels fast. Divinations will be cast regarding Graz'zt's whereabouts and disposition. Inferences will be drawn. The truth will be quickly determined."

"Silence," Mostin snapped. "I know this."

"And if your temper gets the better of you, and you _disintegrate_ Waide, you will make enemies."

"Are you deranged?" Mostin asked. "No. We're going back to Wyre, for this. I want the Enforcer watching _my_ back on this one."

"You cannot take Graz'zt into Wyre," Jalael observed.

"We're in an extradimensional space," Mostin said. "It'll be fine."

"Gihaahia will permit this?"

"She did nothing about the solar; or the spined devils who do the cleaning. I assume so. Also, Graz'zt himself is removed from the continuum proper. I perceive no breach of the Injunction."

"Then neither will she intervene if things go awry," Jalael said drily.

"I will stand on the threshold," Mostin said.

"She must appreciate your pedantry if nothing else," the Hag growled.

"We are settled then?"

Mostin grumbled and nodded.

They translated back to Scir Cellod, but within the Enforcer's remit. Mulissu issued a _sending_ to Daunton, and the wizard arrived presently. Mostin apprised him of the situation, and in his official capacity Daunton called a convocation. 

Sixteen mages attended, including Rimilin, Waide, Tozinak and – to the surprise of all present – the witch Hlioth.

Mostin, standing in the open doorway to Murmuur's Tower and brandishing the globe containing Graz'zt, sighed. He was tired.

Tozinak – whose present form included a number of disturbing insectoid features – clicked his mandibles together in excitement.

"I have captured Graz'zt," the Alienist announced boldly, although his fatigue was evident." I am informing you of this myself, before the rumors begin to fly."

"Bravo, Mostin," Rimilin said drily, with more than a hint of resentment in his voice.

Mostin smiled eerily. "I purpose to seek for Pharamne's urn. Who will join me?"

Voices began to chatter excitedly.

Rimilin raised his eyebrows at the vulgar display.

*

"You are lucky I came," Hlioth later snapped, after the others had dispersed. "Rimilin would have launched an assault, were it not for me."

"In Wyre? I hardly think so."

"In your tower."

"He cannot penetrate it." Mostin sighed

"He _can_, you fool. The _quiescence of the spheres_ must necessarily provoke a counter-argument. Rimilin can bypass _dimensional locks_. Do not think to exclude him that way."

"I don't need nannying, you mad old hag," Mostin hissed. "Let him try."

"And how now do you purpose to penetrate Azzagrat? The planar flux is impossible. Your devilish artifact is not adequate to the task."

"I will conjure one of Ghom's servitors and equip it with a magical howdah."

"I? Mad?"

"Quite so," Mostin replied.

"I wish to speak with Graz'zt," Hlioth growled. 

"Feel free to try," Mostin tossed her the globe. "I must reattune. If you release him again, brains may begin to disappear inexplicably in Nizkur. I take it you understand my meaning?"

Hlioth scowled, and gestured the Alienist away.


**


Ortwine – in the guise of a Thalassine gentleman-turned-vampire – walked with easy confidence through the dark promenades of Thond, impervious to scrutiny; whimsy informed her choice of apparent gender. The damned cowered behind barricaded doors as Abyssal ghouls prowled the streets. 

Things went ill for Thond. The greatest of the town's remaining noble families – the Truzha – had undergone a collective transformation which had resulted in a haemophagic aristocracy being foisted upon Thond's hapless citizens. Under the auspices of the aging family matriarch, a dozen first cousins – and scores further removed – had enthusiastically embraced unlife as a useful tool to advance their power and interests. Initiation had become _de rigueur_ amongst the fashionable set. 

They counted Naatha, Sibud and Rishih as their sponsors; the immortals had invested heavily in the organization and defense of Thond subsequent to the annihilation of its armies. Naatha had lent Jariliths to sorcerers who pledged themselves to her; Rishih had erected a number of potent magical wards around the city; Sibud had bestowed a rare vampiric pedigree.

Ortwine entered a den where unspeakable tortures were inflicted on mortals by many-limbed demons. She drew _Heedless_ and slew the closest fiend immediately. The others began to hastily disperse, but Ortwine arrested one before it could flee, pinned it to the wall, and _dominated_ it.

"You are compacted by House Truzha. Inform your masters that Ortwine wants to talk to them."

The demon moved to oblige her. 

Ortwine liked this game.


**


"Were you aware that the Adversary is squatting in Mostin's Manse not fifty miles from here?" Teppu asked.

"No," Nehael smiled. "I sense you had an exchange. Was it illuminating?"

"Disturbingly so," Teppu admitted. "He's even more disarming than you. He confused me utterly."

Nehael nodded. "That is his nature: to refute that which is."

"That is a generous assessment," Teppu was wry. "Others have been less forgiving. What can you anticipate of his actions?"

"Little or nothing," Nehael shook her head. "And try not to analyze his words. You will never guess his motives. Accept this; you will be happier."

"This is sound advice. He also requests an introduction," Teppu raised his eyebrows.

"That much, at least, I predicted." 

"And you will indulge him?"

Nehael shrugged. "Why not? Do you fear he might successfully woo me to his cause?"

"Precisely thus," Teppu confessed. "What is your strategy?"

"That which I apply to you, so do I equally to myself. There is no strategy. I will play it by ear."


**


The _Ahma_ stood with Tahl and Rede beneath a canopy south of Wyre's marches, receiving news of events which gave him pause for wonder. Orolde intoned as though reading from an altogether mundane inventory.

"One amulet; one suit of baroque plate armor; one large shield of fearsome aspect; one glaive; a greatsword which drips acid…"

"Bastard sword," Eadric interrupted.

"One sacrificial dagger," Orolde continued, "three _cubic gates_; three _portable holes_; one _amulet of the planes_; one _crystal ball_ with several special applications; twenty-eight _ioun stones_ of various function; one _iron flask_, determined to be the prison of the devil Sirchade; around one hundred books of spells – including those of Kothchori – which have yet to be translated and fully catalogued…" 

Orolde paused sadly.

"A scroll collection which I will not begin to bore you with: Mostin has suggested to tender to you those scribed by Oronthonist sympathizers, and there are more than a few; material wealth in jewels, gold and adamant which might best be described as _incomprehensibly large_. The inventory was witnessed by all of the mages present. _Pharamne's urn_ was noticeably absent. Mostin believes that the small key found on Graz'zt's person unlocks whichever space holds the urn – presumably somewhere in one of Azzagrat's nested demiplanes – but he needs to employ divinations of some magnitude in order to determine the exact truth."

Eadric raised an eyebrow. Mostin having the _web of motes_ in his possession was bad enough. Mostin with _Murmuur's tower_ was something which filled the _Ahma_ with trepidation. Now the Alienist sought a generative power which was so far beyond his ability to safely manipulate, that Eadric experienced pure dread.

"I suspect that Mostin has become instrumental in the designs of the Adversary," the _Ahma_ sighed, smiling grimly at Orolde. 

"As to that, I could not say," the sprite bowed. "I do not concern myself with the machinations of entities within the Oronthonian pleroma."

"Has Shomei shown herself yet?" Eadric asked.

A look of discomfort crossed Orolde's face. "No. Is this something you anticipate?"

The _Ahma_ shrugged. "Anticipate? No. But many patterns have been laid; this much is clear to me. I was there when Sacir dragged Shomei to Hell. I was impotent to prevent it. The _Akesoli_ are the agents of Amaimon, perhaps, but there a greater mandate drove them. Mostin informed me of her current situation; do not be concerned as to a breach of confidence."

Orolde smiled. "I am not. I cannot match Mostin's prescience; hence, there is no reason to anticipate that his reaction to anything I might divulge will be unpremeditated. My own status is somewhere between apprentice and journeyman, if you understand my meaning: no proscriptions have been placed upon me; nor do I shy from the truth, as I perceive it."

"And what is your perception, Orolde?"

The sprite looked nonplussed. "That question is quite impossible. I cannot communicate the totality of my apprehension effectively; we have no common frame of reference."

The _Ahma_ thought for a moment. "Do you ever seek solace, Orolde? And if so, where?"

"In whatever fashion seems appropriate at the time."

"And your stump – magic might have replaced your hand. Why?"

"I will grow a pseudopod in due course," Orolde said drily.

Eadric gave a thin smile. "Tell Mostin that the _Ahma_ thinks he's way out of his depth. He can't now go to Azzagrat to retrieve the urn, in any case."

Orolde shifted slightly.

"You cannot be serious?" Eadric asked.

"His energies are now concentrated on accomplishing this task," Orolde admitted. "And as to Shomei, if you wish to speak with her she must be invoked; her nature is now Infernal."

"Foci are aligning sharply," Eadric said.

"Yes," Orolde replied.


**


The van – which contained the banners of the _Ahma_, the Talions and the Penitents – crawled south along the Hynt Coched in the direction of Jompa. Griffons wheeled and gyred in the skies above them. In the main battle, the _Sela_ rode surrounded by Saints and many of the recently Illuminated of Morne, whose numbers continued to swell as companies _wind walked_ from the capital. Hundreds of wagons churned up the road behind into deep mud, through which resentful Wyrish aristocrats and their retainers doggedly toiled. Eadric had stiffened the rearguard and reserve brigades with a battalion of Templars under Brey's command, in the event they were actually attacked: the King, his household knights, and the boars had yet to arrive. In all, the columns trailed for six miles through the low, rolling hills. 

Ahead, bisecting reality at an indeterminable distance, a wall of night loomed. On a low knoll by the side of the road – beneath a tall finger of carved granite – a crimson-haired figure stood and observed the passing of Wyre's armies.

As the _Ahma_ approached, she stared at him; his sight informed him that this one was not all she appeared to be: her ontology was complex. She said nothing, but her presence was significant: this was the edge of her remit. Beyond here, she exerted no influence.

As soon as Eadric passed a point due west of the menhir, the sky above seemed to crack open briefly and a squadron of celestials flashed into view. They shone darkly.

The _Ahma_ remained expressionless. He had anticipated this – or something similar – but had hoped for a period of quietude before they showed themselves. They were already sworn to him; a powerful tool to execute his will in the world. Using them entailed a price he was reluctant to meet.

The wards which Nwm had erected around the column discouraged their close approach, and Eadric called a general halt to the vanguard's progress. He rode with Tahl through a detachment of Ardanese mercenaries and across a hundred yards of open ground, to where they stood or floated gently.

Eadric reined in and dismounted. Saint Tahl remained in his saddle.

"Hail, _Ahma_," the archfiend Irel bowed. "We finally meet, although under circumstances which few guessed likely. The covenant undertaken still holds. You may instruct us as you see fit; alternately, we must interpret your will to the best of our ability."

"Neither option thrills me," Eadric said, gazing at up Irel, who stood head and shoulders above him. Taint emanated from the Fallen in palpable waves but their nobility was all-too-apparent. Thus it might remain. These were a new breed.

Eadric gazed at them and sighed, and resigned himself to the inevitable. He turned to Tahl.

"Let it be known that the _Ahma_ has perforce acquired a Left Hand," he said, "his right alone being inadequate to the task which our current predicament presents."

"They are loyal?"

"Absolutely," Eadric admitted. They were. He could still speak into their minds; know their thoughts. He suspected that Irren was smiling smugly in some Nessian Beatitude.

But against Visuit, how would they fare?

So the wheel turned.


----------



## Atanatotatos

_Wow._


----------



## the Jester

Awesome. Thank you Sep!! 

It's a shorter update than usual, but it's a _sooner_ update than usual; sounds like a win to me!


----------



## pogre

the Jester said:


> Awesome. Thank you Sep!!
> 
> It's a shorter update than usual, but it's a _sooner_ update than usual; sounds like a win to me!




I agree completely.


----------



## EroGaki

the Jester said:


> Awesome. Thank you Sep!!
> 
> It's a shorter update than usual, but it's a _sooner_ update than usual; sounds like a win to me!




I, too, agree with this. 

Also, I am very intrigued at the thought of Nehael and the Adversary sitting down for afternoon tea; the conversation is bound to be interesting. I hope we will have the pleasure of reading it.

Thanks for the update, Sep!


----------



## Knightfall

Excellent. Epic.

I really liked that last sentence... it seemed almost Jordanesque.


----------



## The Forsaken One

Delicious


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## Roman

Thanks Sep! It was a great update!


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## Roman

> Originally Posted by *the Jester *
> Awesome. Thank you Sep!!
> 
> It's a shorter update than usual, but it's a sooner update than usual; sounds like a win to me!




I don't think it was shorter. I do agree, however, that it was awesome!


----------



## EroGaki

Is it just me, or has Mostin grown a bit... bold in his speech? Calling Hliothnames? Snapping at Mulissu? That seems rather dangerous.


----------



## Roman

Mostin is playing a dangerous game that may well catch up with him and the rest of the heroes. I would imagine that Sonneillon in particular will want her revenge.


----------



## grodog

I just noticed the update yesterday:  great work, Sep, and thanks for sharing it 

The machinations continue to grow, evolve, and expand in ways that remain surprising, which is both quite an inspiration and quite an accomplishment after the multitudinous layers of subterfuge, false futures, visions, hints, and revelations you've written!


----------



## Terwox

As ever, I'm pleased to have caught up with everything.  Great stuff.


----------



## rantipole

Thanks again, Sep. This is still completely worth reading after all this time. I hope I get another fix soon.

Cheers,
rant


----------



## Roman

Amazing stuff - Sep, if you ever run an online campaign, I would love to join!


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## Atanatotatos

Heh. There would be so many people applying that Enworld would probably crash


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## Roman

That is probably true! 

On another note, does anybody have the links to all the previous threads of this story hour?


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## grodog

Roman said:


> On another note, does anybody have the links to all the previous threads of this story hour?




http://www.enworld.org/forum/story-hour/58227-tales-wyre-01-03-09-update.html compiles all of the threads into one place for reading; is that what you want, Roman, or do you need the original thread links?


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## Roman

Thanks grodog, I think that will do!


----------



## Noir

spring update anyone?


----------



## Noir

Hey Sep, just wondering, is the campaign still running? I have lost count of how many years I have been following this SH, but it has been on my 'currently reading' list the longest of any single work of literature and I refuse to put it on the 'started but never finished' list. Will there be any closure for me and all of your other loyal readers in a foreseeable future? Not that I want the saga to ever end, but as it has been the last couple of years I have always been wondering after every update, 'will there be another?'

Oh, I almost forgot, BUMP!


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## Sepulchrave II

> Hey Sep, just wondering, is the campaign still running?




This campaign may never end. Sporadic e-mails keep it going, even if they're just vague ideas or declarations of intent. I'm at least 3 years behind in updates.


----------



## Nifft

Sepulchrave II said:


> I'm at least 3 years behind in updates.



 You sure know how to turn up the frustration.



"_Back to work, you!_", -- N


----------



## The Forsaken One

So many potential updates...

*head spins*

What a mindjob.

Hope ur ok Sep! <3. This stays the greatest work of fiction I've ever read, beats Jordan and Erikson for me and I'm a huge fan of those, just can't say it enough.


----------



## The Forsaken One

Nifft said:


> You sure know how to turn up the frustration.
> 
> 
> 
> "_Back to work, you!_", -- N




*Cracks the whip*


----------



## shadesilverhand

Eadric the Pure - Grand Champion of the Argent Crusade - is an NPC in the latest World of Warcraft patch: Eadric the Pure - Quest - World of Warcraft  Maybe coincidence but considering he is the Grand Champion of an order of paladins?  I somehow doubt it.


----------



## Moleculo

shadesilverhand said:


> Eadric the Pure - Grand Champion of the Argent Crusade - is an NPC in the latest World of Warcraft patch: Eadric the Pure - Quest - World of Warcraft  Maybe coincidence but considering he is the Grand Champion of an order of paladins?  I somehow doubt it.



Four years ago, I actually won a friends & family account for the World of Warcraft Closed Beta on this very message board because of a Sepulchrave related haiku. Smells like homage to me.


----------



## grodog

Sepulchrave II said:


> This campaign may never end. Sporadic e-mails keep it going, even if they're just vague ideas or declarations of intent. I'm at least 3 years behind in updates.




Wowza!  I'd love to hear more about your campaign management techniques in the RG thread sometime:  how the you and the players manage downtime, what "vague ideas" and "declarations of intent" start out as and turn into at their conclusions, etc.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Visuit*


The warm spring sun, filtered through the canopy of the forest, lent a greenish hue to the still air. Nehael smiled as she approached.

Behind the manse, above a small stream which gurgled enthusiastically, a figure lounged in a wicker hammock suspended between two young birch trees, chewing thoughtfully on a long blade of cooch-grass. He wore one of Mostin's favorite hats: an ochre felt, sporting a wide brim, and suitable for lazy afternoons.

Through many perceptions, the goddess apprehended him in a thousand guises: a fey; a mortal youth; an emperor, resplendent and dreadful; incandescence – a sliver of the Sun; the Will to Become. Here was the great _Antinomos_; the Nameless Fiend, exempt from the Law of Oronthon. Space and time warped in his vicinity: he was a singularity around whom cosmoii turned. Still, his totality eluded her. Deceiver. 

The Adversary opened an eye as she drew closer. "You were never Nehael. What are you?" He asked, half-amused.

Nehael tilted her head. "Am I so opaque to you?"

"Oh, yes," he answered. 

"There is much I might show you," Nehael suggested.

"You are empowered to realize the full potential of the _urn_?"

"Yes," Nehael replied. 

"I suspected as much."

"Thank-you for letting Rintrah pass," Nehael nodded politely. "Will you trust me?"

"Let me think about it," the Adversary replied. He pulled Mostin's hat down over his eyes.

"Do you fear me?" Nehael inquired directly.

The Adversary gave a shrug. "Perhaps. I haven't yet decided as to whether I ought, or no."

"I should like to offer some advice," Nehael smiled.

"Feel free," the Adversary smiled drowsily.

"Read me. I am open to you."

"I cannot. That is my dilemma. But thank-you for your consideration."

"You _cannot_?"

"Humility becomes you, Who-Were-Never-Nehael. As does your genuine lack of guile. The Tree weaves a net around you so subtle that even you can't perceive it."

"And you can?"

"No," the Nameless Fiend sighed. "But I can infer it. I am in Nizkur. I have no power here, save by your grace. Or that of the Tree. Or Uedii. The puzzle intrigues me: I am an inquisitive sort."

"Why would you reveal these things to me? They diminish you and empower me. That is contrary to your nature."

"My Nature – normally my preferred topic of discussion – is of no consequence in this matter. Because I am not _your_ Adversary. Do you doubt your invulnerability here?"

"I had not, until you asked me that very question," Nehael admitted.

"Touché," the Adversary tipped the brim of Mostin's hat. "Observe."

Without warning, he struck her with enough power to raze a continent.

Nehael merely witnessed him scattering a handful of acorns.

"What of the Claviger?" She asked.

"I'm wholly ignorant," the Adversary sighed.

"I cannot believe anything you say."

"Well, naturally," the Adversary smiled. "And there's the great irony, of course."

"Decide what you want to do," Nehael turned and walked away.

"Think of a name for me," he called after her. "Maybe I'll like it."


**


_Nwm's interdiction_, as Mostin dubbed the spell – although the Preceptor himself had not thought to name it – was a compound ward which excluded certain creatures of the unnatural order from proximity to the _Sela_. It was less comprehensive than Nwm would have secretly preferred, but – given that the bulk of the power required to evoke it was derived from Temple Adepts and Flamines – it would have been less than gracious of Nwm to exclude celestials from its zone of effect. 

Nwm refused to relax the primary ward to allow the nascent devils of the Dark Choir access, regardless of their professed loyalty. This vexed many of the Irrenites present, who entertained notions of discourse with the fallen celestials.

"I'll not have them within a league of me. Nor will you unless you think that you're immune to subterfuge."

Nwm had a point, Eadric conceded.

The _interdiction_ was quickly followed by a _Nwm's mantle_ which settled upon those marching south – necromancies would henceforth prove ineffective against the Wyrish forces – and a _Nwm's quickening_ which bestowed miraculous regenerative powers.

The primary ward moved as Wyre's armies moved, encapsulating an oblate hemisphere some six miles in diameter, and invisible to mortal perception. It was potent, but demanded a renewal at dawn every day: a substantial investment of time, and an effort of magic to effect; the _mantle_ and _quickening_ required less frequent reinforcement. Although bolstered to withstand _disjunctions_, to contrive a _superb dispelling_ of sufficient magnitude to counter the _interdiction_ was certainly within the ability of the Cheshnite leadership, were one or more of them to set their mind to it. 

Nwm's concerns were justified, and Anumid initially approached Idyam with the task of devising a spell for such a purpose. The demilich – feeling such a chore was beneath him – ignored the request and continued his necromancies. Idyam felt in no hurry. Malign spirits attended him now: deathshriekers spawned by the horrors visited upon Jashat. Nwm's ward could not be used offensively; they would effectively need to cut a swathe forward for it at some point. 

Choach accepted Anumid's offer, although with a counterbid for two hundred which made the Mouthpiece glower. Still, resources were plentiful: all of the _Anantam_ were now able to act without fear of retaliation from the Claviger. Anumid felt pressure from the increasingly frenzied politicking of certain cliques within the cabals. It was only a matter of time before the assassinations began in earnest.

For four hundred, Choach offered to eliminate Fumaril's defense as well.

"How quickly can the spell be ready?"

"In twelve hours."

"I will give a provisional _yes_," Anumid grimaced. 

The Mouthpiece subsequently gave thought to assailing Fumaril. Although the host which had set forth with Dhatri was immense, the chambers below the Temple of Cheshne were far from empty; Naatha and Guho – otherwise uncommitted – might be persuaded to undertake the magical leaguer of Fumaril if offered sufficient inducements.

The balance of power between the greatest of the Cheshnite immortals and the cabals was beginning to shift, Anumid observed. He found himself thankful that his own position until that point had been one of reserve; _over-caution_ as Yeshe had preferred it.


*

Yeshe anointed herself with blood beside her pavillion and prepared to _commune_. Something was evading her notice, and she was determined to find out _what_.

Her divinations were interrupted by Visuit.

"We strike immediately. My instinct tells me the time is now," the Butcher growled.

"We must bring down the ward first," Yeshe retorted.

Dreadful runes kindled about Visuit as her mood darkened. Mortals nearby ran screaming. The goddess drew her weapon: a huge curved sword. "Do not seek to instruct me in the art of war."

"Your bloodlust must wait," Yeshe snapped. She was rapidly losing her temper.

Without warning, with a peal of thunder, the goddess smote Yeshe; a single blow which would have slain any mortal and many a godling. The Binder's armor, titan-forged, buckled but did not break. 

Yeshe staggered back, insensible.

Visuit thrust out an arm and caught her by the throat. The goddess kicked Yeshe's legs from beneath her, and pushed the immortal to her knees.

Still, Yeshe could not make her limbs respond. 

"You would presume?" Visuit threatened to break her neck.

Incapacity. The Binder crumpled to the ground.

"I am making a sortie," Visuit boomed; her voice carried for a mile, drowning all other sound. "Those who wish to accompany me, may."

"You will serve me," she hissed to the form at her feet. 

"Goddess." Choking, Yeshe abased herself.

Visuit focused momentarily.

The enemy would be breaking camp soon. She reached out with her mind, searching for purchase: a place in proximity to the _Sela_, where she might recently have been invoked by word or deed. An anchor in space. Her deific perception penetrated every ward erected by the Temple Adepts.

At the last, a green veil, supple but unyielding: Nehael's blessing. Her concentration evaporated, and her thought retreated.

Visuit cursed. Several of the _Ushabam_ who pressed too close went mad. 

Holding her dark blade aloft, she clove open a _gate_.

"Follow!" War demanded utter obedience.

She mounted Narh; steed and rider leaped through the rift.

A great press of demons and undead clamored behind her. After Yeshe, Prahar – unhinged as he already was – was the first to follow. On the Plain of Infinite Portals, the Sorrowsworn mustered hungrily.


**


Tensions ran high in Mostin's Infernal tower.

Eleven mages, in addition to Mostin and Orolde, were now ensconced in various chambers – _some of them all-too-comfortably_, Mostin ruefully considered. And Hlioth remained, which made Mostin suspicious and more than a little nervous: she had appropriated a stone courtyard, and modified it – _greenified_ it – to her satisfaction and Mostin's chagrin. 

Inevitably, the habits of certain of the Wizards – and all were guilty of odd behaviours of one kind or another – had come into conflict. Creq exuded a charnel reek which many found distasteful. Daunton pestered the Alienist constantly for use of the _web of motes_. Tozinak transmogrified various mundane objects for no apparent reason. Waide – who maintained a disciplined hauteur – insisted on an afternoon nap in one of Mostin's preferred spots: a conservatory in which various Hellish fruits grew on thorny trees. Mulissu's mephits and Jalael's quasits were on the verge of open warfare: spined devils ineffectively policed an uneasy truce between the two groups, until the Alienist conjured a barbazu to act as a more effective deterrent to hostilities. 

Mostin himself sat poring over formulae, performing impossible contortions upon immutable laws of magic in his head. Graz'zt's jar sat before him on the desk. Upon it, placid, the _dominated, polymorphed_ linnorm rested, coiled in miniscule.

Mostin's prolepsis had generated a number of uncomfortable arcs, which involved the scorned Queen Soneillon, the Region of Dreams and _Uzzhin_ combining in some dreadful resonance. He tapped upon the sphere with his quill until the demonic countenance of Prince Graz'zt appeared.

"What is your intuition?" Mostin asked.

"Thou hast exceeded thy authority, and made something unholy," Graz'zt replied, sneering.

"Be more specific!" Mostin snapped.

Graz'zt's face vanished.

Mostin cursed him for his willfulness and _tormented_ the captive demon, finally forcing his visage to reappear. Graz'zt's intractability seemed only moderately diminished; his hatred was palpable.

"Answer the question," Mostin groaned. "And dispense with the archaisms: they are tedious."  

"You have sent What-is-Not to Where-it-Cannot-Be. As though realities do not bleed freely enough, Mostin the Metagnostic punches holes in continua to turn drips into torrents."

"You speak of Soneillon's pilgrimage?" the Alienist hissed.

"Vhorzhe made the same mistake," Graz'zt smiled wickedly. "Except it was no _chthonic_ he sent hurtling into Delirium."

"Your teminology is outmoded," Mostin corrected him. "And the analogy is inexact, in any case. I have demonstrated this!"

"Rimilin will bring her back, for all your prattle." Graz'zt was obviously taking some pleasure in his words.

"Rimilin does not concern me," Mostin sighed.

"Then you will lose the race for Azzagrat." 

Mostin scowled, and waved Graz'zt away irritably.

The demon remained, glowering at him.

"Bugger off." Mostin shoved the linnorm off its perch, picked up the globe, and dropped it in a drawer, slamming it shut.

He returned to his problem.

*

An hour later, Mostin announced his plan.

The mages were to accompany him to a location _within_ what had been the Argent Palace in Azzagrat, after the Alienist had established a modicum of stability on the planar flux in its vicinity. Thereupon, Mostin would invoke his _quiescence of the spheres_. 

They must next _disjoin_ the chthonic _gates_, to permanently arrest the upwelling; subsequently, the _quiescence_ could be _dispelled_, and the offending _gates_ would be gone. 

After _Pharamne's urn_ was recovered – Mostin purported to know its exact location, now – the Alienist would hold a splendid party in celebration.

Various concerns were voiced: Would chthonics in manifest form still be nearby? Would the _gates_ even be present after the _reality maelstrom_ had been suppressed? How many demiplanes removed from Azzagrat was the _urn_ in any event?

"And how many _gates_ are there Mostin?" 

"I have calculated twenty-two," Mostin confessed.  "But their usage has diminished considerably; a new equilibrium has already been established."

"You require twenty-two _disjunctions?_" Hlioth laughed.

"Certainly. This can be achieved with single-minded purpose."

"And the predicted length of our tenure in these regions?" Tozinak inquired, sniffling dismally.

"Around thirty minutes, if all goes to plan," Mostin grinned eagerly.  

"Alas!" Tozinak wailed. "I may not live to see my egg hatch!"


**


"I am perplexed," Teppu admitted, looking at Neheal. "The exchange would indicate that you have him at a gnostic disadvantage – so to speak."

"He was thwarted in Afqithan; his prescience failed. This is a new experience for him. He claims the Viridity is inscrutable to him."

"And _Saizhan_?" Teppu inquired.

"That relationship is more complex. I don't profess to understand it. I suspect that he is somehow instrumental."


**


They manifested in the fading half-light, within a bowshot of the _interdiction_, and within plain sight of the celestial guards who policed the perimeter. A ragged hole in the fabric of reality, slashed open by Visuit, through which a stream of demons poured.

The Dark Choir was upon them in an instant, wreaking havoc with maces and flaming swords; within Nwm's presidio, news spread like lightning, and clarions sounded: knights and Templars sprang to arms.

Visuit, who trusted her instincts, smiled. In the Aethers below, something stirred. To those who were sensitive – adepts and celestials – a ripple of Darkness ran across the still waters of Mind.

The Butcher gestured with her clenched fist.

Chthonics manifested.

The proto-devils cautiously withdrew to consider their options.

Visuit sliced open another _gate_, and vanished. 

The rent in space remained open; through it, yet more demons and monsters began to rush.


*

As the alarm spread, Nwm – who was stationed in the centre of the encampment with most of the spellcasters – reached out his mind to Eadric, whose tents were closer to the periphery.

[Nwm]: She is opening a _gate_ every thirty seconds or so; they at appearing at apparently random locations around the circumference. _Teleportation circles_ are also now beginning to open. The strongest has predictably asserted herself.

[Eadric]: I had hoped she might be more direct. Still, they cannot penetrate the ward. Something very dark just came.

[Nwm]: It is called _Narake_.

[Eadric]: How do you _know?_

[Nwm]: Uedii whispers it to me.

[Eadric]: What is our best recourse?

[Nwm]: Fortification.

[Tahl]: We are ready.

[Mesikammi]: As are we.

[Lai]: And we.

[Brey]: And we.

"I will brook no celestial interference!" Nwm hissed through gritted teeth. 

"There will be none," the _Ahma_ vowed. The words emerged from the mouths of all within the communion.

Nwm evoked a spell.

The _Green Benediction_ settled upon Eadric and those nearest him.


**


Lying in Mostin's hammock, the Adversary opened an eye. Now _that_ was impressive, by any standards.


----------



## Shieldhaven

The awesomeness continues.

Thank you, Sep!

(And, in case you aren't already, consider reading Sinfest: The Webcomic To End all Webcomics. There's a storyline in that comic not entirely unlike the very first posts of Lady Despina's Virtue.)

Haven


----------



## Roman

Wow, it is 16th of April, my birthday and Sep posts another great installment! What a wonderful birthday present!  Thanks!


----------



## EroGaki

Yay, update!! 

And yay, Romans birthday!! Happy Birthday, Roman!


----------



## the Jester

Wow, awesome! Thanks for the update, Sep!


----------



## Atanatotatos

...so the _whole_ team is now under those _insane_ buffs? Whoa...


----------



## Nifft

Oooooo. Good update.

Thanks, -- N


----------



## grodog

Excellent!  I'm loving the perplexity and curiosity (?) of the Adversary!


----------



## Roman

Sepulchrave II said:


> This campaign may never end. Sporadic e-mails keep it going, even if they're just vague ideas or declarations of intent. I'm at least 3 years behind in updates.




That's great news! I most certainly wouldn't want the campaign and the story to end - it's just too awesome.


----------



## Roman

EroGaki said:


> Yay, update!!
> 
> And yay, Romans birthday!! Happy Birthday, Roman!




Thanks!


----------



## Knightfall

Another great update. And... 

Nwm rocks!


----------



## Salthorae

Sepulchrave II said:


> This campaign may never end. Sporadic e-mails keep it going, even if they're just vague ideas or declarations of intent. I'm at least 3 years behind in updates.




 

That is the most beautiful thing I think I've read in this SH in all the years I've been following it... "may never end", so beautiful.


----------



## jensun

Great update.

Now I have to know, just what did Nwm do that was enough to impress the Adversary?


----------



## Rackhir

The only thing I can ever remember reading that is close to this epic, was the Lensman saga. Where they were throwing planets and anti-matter planets at each other.

I'm amazed at how Sepulchrave manages to keep things going at this power level. My highest level campaign fell apart in the high teens.


----------



## Moleculo

jensun said:


> Great update.
> 
> Now I have to know, just what did Nwm do that was enough to impress the Adversary?




http://www.enworld.org/forum/plots-places/5652-eadric-et-al-paladin-his-friends-39.html#post4758435


----------



## Noir

great update, left me wanting more as always.
any chance for another one? please?


----------



## The Forsaken One

Haha that comming from the Adversary, this is gonna be good.

Cheers Sep <3


----------



## Kaodi

Their enemies are never going to know what hit them.


----------



## Cheiromancer

I am puzzled by a line in the dialog between the Adversary and Nehael.  

_"Thank-you for letting Rintrah pass," Nehael nodded politely. "Will you trust me?"_

When did the Adversary let Rintrah pass?  Is she referring to her rescue?

This line was also food for thought:

_"Think of a name for me," he called after her. "Maybe I'll like it."_

What is going on here?  His being named would completely reconfigure his place in the Oronthonian schema, wouldn't it? The Adversary personifies a particular way of denying limitation, a way that is symbolized by his being nameless.  If he is named, then what?

I had kind of thought that saizhan might transform (or at least relax) the dualistic side of Oronthonianism, but his being named by Nehael would be something else entirely.


----------



## Moleculo

Cheiromancer said:


> What is going on here?  His being named would completely reconfigure his place in the Oronthonian schema, wouldn't it? The Adversary personifies a particular way of denying limitation, a way that is symbolized by his being nameless.  If he is named, then what?
> 
> I had kind of thought that saizhan might transform (or at least relax) the dualistic side of Oronthonianism, but his being named by Nehael would be something else entirely.




I thought the Adversary was talking more of a role than a real name per se. "The Adversary" is a name of sorts, but it is not the Nameless One's _name_. Wasn't his name stripped of him by Oronthon, rather than it being a denial of Oronthon? 

It seemed to me that the Adversary was inviting Nehael to define their relationship by giving him his name, and that their interaction need not be necessarily... adversarial. Who knows, maybe he'll be the Consort!


----------



## Cheiromancer

I don't think the Adversary is asking Nehael to express his role in her paradigm. He already knows (and has said) that he is not _her_ adversary. But still he asks her to think of a name, which suggests the possibility of something new.

It's interesting that the Adversary doesn't ask Nehael to _give_ him a name; that would imply he is subordinate. Nor does he ask her to _choose_ a name.  No existing name expresses his essence, and so none of them would be a valid choice.  A new title or sobriquet would do nothing more than refer to him. What good is that? He doesn't want another title. 

What he wants is to transcend his struggle with Oronthon.  It's a doomed, tragic struggle, anyway, one that is predestined to fail.  As Sepulchrave tells us, even while rebelling against Oronthon the Adversary does Oronthon's will.  But the Adversary doesn't identify with the struggle.  If that were all he was about, then he would have a name; the Adversary.  But that isn't his name; it's just a word that refers to him without capturing his essential character.  But what is the essential character of the self-transcendence he is aiming for?  Only Oronthon knows.  But maybe Nehael can think of something which expresses it well enough for the Adversary to like it.


----------



## The Forsaken One

Wow that was some deep stuff, I picked up on it while reading but in my rush to read it all it kinda slipped my mind. Great posts on that catch. Good food for thought, but I'm tempted to side with Cheiro's perspective here. My thoughts immediately went along the same lines. Naming the Nameless etc.


----------



## Cheiromancer

The theme of transcendence appears over and over in this story hour.  Mostin does it.  Shomei does it.  Ditto for her simulacrum.  The self-incarnation of Jovol is a way of transcending death.  Soneillon's overcoming of non-existence is similar. Ortwine's seeking of godhood transcends mortality. The bad guys overcome mortality in their own ways. Heck, the whole practice of saizhan is a way of transcending conventional dualities.

What is transcended is limitation in all its forms. Finitude, death, non-being.  _Nothing becomes._ Saizhan tries to dissolve the duality of opposites with a deeper insight. The adversarial paradigm (e.g as pursued by Shomei) is an existential striving to overcome. Eadric, I think, is well on the way to transcending traditional moral categories. 

Even the game mechanics explore this theme.  Stretching the epic rules to their breaking point and going even further... that's transcendence with a vengeance.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Eadric*


The Goddess inhaled sharply; her head span in an ecstasy. Her communion became perfect, and her form blazed as the Viridity flowed through her. Nwm had invoked her again as the conduit for a spell of staggering power.

Trees nearby erupted briefly into spontaneous sapience.  Teppu capered madly. "Excellent," he clapped his hands.

Nehael's consciousness was immediately drawn to focus on Eadric and the thousand or so most stalwart knights in the Wyrish encampment; those whose tents were in proximity to those of the _Ahma_. Thence it extended to settle upon every griffon, every horse, every dog, every bird, every ant. 

Nehael shook her head. "It will not be enough. Nwm must try harder. I hope he knows this."


**


Eadric's head hummed, as though he had imbibed some heady green wine which evoked an urge to pure _enjoyment_. Around his core, a warmth which nourished and sustained him. The _Eye of Palamabron_ revealed the Aethers thick with archons and devas; myriads dispatched by Enitharmon to intercept the Chthonic threat and prevent further bleed into the World of Men.

Here and now, the twilight tasted fresh and new. Eadric's skin tingled. He mounted the griffon _Hauhuts_ and took to the skies. Below him the camp stretched, many fires were burning: casting his eyes around, he noticed that three main fronts had opened, all to the east of the _Interdiction_, which – thankfully – still held. 

Northernmost, a cluster of _gates_ through which Prahar's undead cavalry poured, swiftly and repeatedly dispersing and reforming in cadres. Their movements seemed in execution of a long-prepared plan, although maybe the phenomenon was spontaneous; formations rippled like schools of black fish beyond the protective walls of the spell. They were followed by blood fiends, abyssal ghouls, and other things which ate flesh. 

In the centre, Yeshe, Pazuzu, and the violet banners of the _Ushabam_ held by their giant bodyguards; their leaders were burning dozens of _candles of invocation_, and balors were appearing in the skies above them. Others were conjuring lesser demons, as their ability permitted. Still more demons were simply manifesting.

To the south, in an arc, the chthonic menace. Narake, evoked last of all, was easternmost.

Irel had determined his reaction quickly: more than half of the Dark Choir – under the archon Hemah – remained in the fight with Yeshe and her minions, and were attempting to eliminate the spellcasters.  Shokad, Oraios and Irel himself – with a smaller number of former celestial stalwarts – moved to intercept the chthonics. 

Knights and Templars under the effects of the _Benediction_ were already materializing within the ranks of the enemy, immolating with green fire and quickly routing the half-giants, whilst enduring a barrage of _blasphemies_ from the _Ushabam_ themselves. In response, demons were being invoked even more rapidly; the balors were being flung against them.


From above, Eadric's vision rested on a heaving mass of nullity shaped like a demon, which emanated a destroying fire. All other creatures shunned it.

_Narake_, Nwm confirmed.

Bathed in green radiance, Eadric grunted and urged his steed to a dive; his plummet brushed aside a flight of chthonic succubi which strove to block his path, burning many from the sky. His task was simple: he should strive to slay as many as he could. He smote Narake a great blow as he wheeled past, only to have _Hauhuts_ plucked in turn from the sky by a fiery tendril. Griffon and rider were flung to the ground; the earth shook as he struck it.

Visuit thundered past, slaying Hauhuts with a single blow which continued on to Eadric, striking _Lukarn_ and causing the blade to shiver powerfully along its length.

A death spell spoken by Narake slid over him, dissipating harmlessly. In a trice, the demon – dwarfing the _Ahma_ – leapt upon him, striking him with an object shaped like a mace and forged out of malice. In the vicinity of the chthonic, matter was beginning to smoke and evaporate.

Eadric fended the blow easily with his shield, and the sledge carved a hole in the earth next to him. Four more strikes he turned or withstood; black fire engulfed him, but nothing adhered.

By instinct, he moved his form subtly; or maybe the World shifted around him, reordering itself in response to some impulse of Uedii which he could not articulate. He followed invisible green tracheids, emerging instantly from the grass on the other side of the demon. He launched a powerful assault.

_Lukarn_ opened huge, gaping wounds; Light poured into naked Void. Narake vanished from sight; whether destroyed or fled, Eadric could not tell: and perhaps it made no difference. 

Before he could even draw breath, Visuit sped past again upon _Narh_ and struck a great blow upon his shield, shearing the celestial metal from edge to edge, cleaving it cleanly in two. Her curved sword – if such it was – continued through the rerebrace on his shield-arm into sinew. Visions of carnage passed through his mind, and voices called to him from unnamed hells. He felt warm blood flow over his elbow and down to his wrist.

Sixty yards past Eadric, Visuit leapt from her saddle and – with surprising elegance – twisted in the air like a cat, landing firmly to face him. She smiled. Life withered.

Casting off the remains of _Melimpor's Shield_, the _Ahma_ gripped his weapon in both hands and materialized immediately in front of the goddess, hewing at her ferociously with every ounce of strength he could muster, and burning her with green flames which issued from him in sheets. _Lukarn_ fulminated, illuminating the battlefield as he smote her. She struck back, and with terrible speed. Raining blows down hard upon him, hammering him through helm and armor and forcing him backwards. He bled profusely. 

Thus they exchanged buffets. Visuit had quickly gained the upper hand.

The _Ahma_ prudently withdrew. He followed a strand of Green and appeared instantly before Nwm. 

"I need more," he said simply.

"There is no more. Try harder," Nwm scowled as he _healed_ him.

"Nwm…"

"My resources are not infinite!" Nwm snapped. "And a new front is about to open. And there will be others. Timing is critical. Do not be distracted. _Now keep them at bay._"

The _Ahma_ nodded, understanding.

Moments later, the lich Choach – together with a large number of _Anantam_ magi – arrived a league to the west, collapsing Nwm's _Interdiction_.

Demons began _teleporting_: probing unlocked areas closer to the centre of the camp. Every plant whispered; green ripples moved across the ground, as hundreds of Templars rapidly transported themselves back from the now-vanished periphery.

Two hundred yards from Eadric and Nwm, Narake reappeared.

Nwm vomited as the demon invoked a spell, enveloping everything within a mile in a maelstrom of black fire. Thousands died. Though many – adequately warded – survived, all plant matter was turned to ash.

Nwm coughed, regaining his composure. It has to be _Now._

[Tahl]: We are ready.

[Mesikammi]: As are we.

[Lai]: And we.

[Brey]: And we.

A silent green nova. 

Eadric knew it: he had felt it before in Afqithan. This was of more modest scope, but subtler. A frequency attuned to a specific vibration, married to a wave of banishment. Every demon, every chthonic vanished. Pazuzu and Visuit, vanished. Each expunged; shunted away to its proper place. 

Yeshe cursed. _Gating_ Visuit again would not be possible until the prescribed length of time had elapsed. The thirty-or-so balors who had been interposed between the dark celestials and the _Ushabam_ had disappeared; Hemah and his brethren were already in their midst, sweeping their fiery swords in great arcs, and hewing them down.

Ablaze with her own magic, she emptied her reservoir and struck the former episeme with a pillar of blackness, slaying him. Wearily, the Binder opened yet another _gate_, and another; she drew now on a rod of ancient potency to fuel her magic. 

She staggered. Exhausted, she vanished with a _word of recall_. Those amongst the _Ushabam_ who were able, followed her lead.


**

The earth was black in the gathering night: Narake's carnage was ugly. Outside of the wasted area, the Temple forces were assembling.

Eadric stared at the body of Hemah; he had expected it to vaporize, or at least to smoulder. The great archon seemed serene in extinction. The devil's expression might have been one of mild perplexity. They were one and the same.

Irel alighted silently next to the _Ahma_.

_Whither?_ Eadric wondered.

"To a lake of fire," the fallen deva replied.

"Or to an Ocean?"

"If you decree it."

"Let it be so."

Eadric heard a soft hoof-fall approaching; he turned to observe the stallion _Narh_ pacing gently toward him. Somewhat behind, a lone figure wearing a worn studded jack and spattered with ichor. 

Ortwine gave a hint of a smile as she approached, and tossed Sibud's head to the ground at the _Ahma_'s feet.

"One for me," she said.

Eadric gaped.

"In order to write lays of one's exploits, it is necessary to first perform them," she explained. 

[Nwm]: It must wait.

A magical wind was rising: the slightest breeze, invoked by Prahar, but tenacious: it rendered all flight impossible. Those who remained aloft across the battlefield found themselves without purchase, and plummeted. 

Ortwine gazed north and east. Night had now fallen fully, but the sky – through Mesikammi's arts – was clear as crystal and the stars were bright. A tremor pulsed through the ground. Ancient carynxes were sounding brazenly, as evil godlings ordered their undead ranks.

"Prahar is preparing to charge with his death knights," the sidhe observed drily. "By lucky happenstance, the greatest horse ever sired is your eager steed."

The _Ahma_ muttered an earnest prayer of thanks to Uedii.

"You may also thank me. You may not criticize me for my gnomes again," Ortwine smiled coldly.

"Thank-you," Eadric nodded. "And agreed. What will you do?"

Ortwine reached into her vest and withdrew a talisman which reeked utterly of evil. "I plan to sow discord – which appears to be my forte."





*Unfortunately for Eadric, Visuit resolves her melee attacks as touch attacks. DR 50/- helped _a lot_. DevCrits didn't work for either of them as they were both _fortified_. At this point, they were pretty evenly matched. _Don't let her charge_ was the informed consensus.


----------



## Roman

Awesome - I love these more frequent updates!


----------



## Roman

That was an epic battle! 

It is also interesting to see more and more hints of transcendence of various divisions. The Dark Choir continues to obey Eadric. The behavior of the former celestials/new devils indicates that the Fall and assertion of free will does not have to be absolute - it does not have to conflict with the will of Oronthon. This is another hint that the Oronthon/Adversary duality may be overcome. 

Interestingly, Eadric also muttered a prayer to Uedi. He has always been tolerant of the naturalistic religion, but this time he actually conducted an act of worhsip towards her (however minor... or major it might be deemed). Perhaps that duality too may be overcome!


----------



## Atanatotatos

> * A +20 Enhancement bonus to Strength, Constitution, Wisdom and Charisma
> * A +50 Natural armor bonus to armor class
> * Damage Reduction 50/-
> * Spell Resistance 100
> * The supernatural ability to use transport via plants as a swift action once per round
> 
> 
> Creatures under the effect of the Green Benediction emanate a viridescent light to 10 feet which deals 10d20 points of damage per round to extraplanar creatures of a type designated at the time of the spell's casting. A Fortitude Saving Throw (DC 39) halves this damage. Creatures are subject to the light every round they remain within its range.






> "I need more," he said simply.




LOL! 

A great update, like always.

By the way, are you going to show us Eadric's stats at this moment (of the story hour)?
(unless I missed them somehow)


----------



## Roman

Atanatotatos said:


> LOL!




Indeed!  

I must say that I am not a fan of the 3E epic level system of spellcasting or its other parts and would not dare to run a game using that system, but Sep has somehow managed to make it work really, really well for him. The spells are amazingly epic in Sep's game.


----------



## Baron Opal

It is the eschaton, indeed.


----------



## Knightfall

Great! 

As usual.


----------



## Salthorae

Anyone else notice that Ortwine single handedly appeared to kill THIS (Sibud)

...and that Eadric stood toe-to-toe (for a little while at least) with THIS (VISUIT)

Talk about transcendance!


----------



## Roman

Salthorae said:


> Anyone else notice that Ortwine single handedly appeared to kill THIS (Sibud)
> 
> ...and that Eadric stood toe-to-toe (for a little while at least) with THIS (VISUIT)
> 
> Talk about transcendance!




Yeah, I was rather impressed!


----------



## The Forsaken One

Discord :d

Great update! I can just imagine the slaughter as far as the eye can see with the skies burning above and those two just whacking away at eachother while everything dies and gets burned away that comes close due to the benediction and the runes haha.

Caarnnaaagggeee! So sick, esp with such an update so soon again!

Cheers Sep <3

edit: lol vorpal sword sibud.


----------



## Cheiromancer

It looks like a draw thus far.  Sibud down, but also Hemah.  Eadric lost his shield, and Visuit her horse.  Yeshe is exhausted, but Nwm doesn't seem to have much left either.  Prahar is about to enter the fight, and Ortwine has her mission of discord.  That seems about even; Ortwine is, after all, a goddess.


----------



## Moleculo

Cheiromancer said:


> That seems about even; Ortwine is, after all, a goddess.




Could you refresh my memory on this Cheiromancer?  I remember the bargain being struck, but not where she made the transition from nominal divinity to true divinity.


----------



## grodog

Great update, Sep!---the divine conflicts are just amazing---so much more horsepower than when Trempa revolted against the Temple and Nwm first flexed his muscles....


----------



## Cheiromancer

Moleculo said:


> Could you refresh my memory on this Cheiromancer?  I remember the bargain being struck, but not where she made the transition from nominal divinity to true divinity.




It seems I misunderstood the import of Ortwine's taking her place with the other Nireem.  In the parley with Sibud, reference is made to her quest for divinity, which may or may not prove successful.  So I guess her apotheosis is still in the future.  But  this indicates that it will happen eventually.


----------



## Rackhir

Can anyone point me to some threads (if they exist) where Sep discusses how he makes this sort of campaign work, creates challenges and balances out things?

One of the high level campaigns I'm in has hit some "problems" in these areas and it would be nice to have some insight into how Sep does it.


----------



## grodog

Check out the Rogues Gallery thread @ http://www.enworld.org/forum/plots-places/5652-eadric-et-al-paladin-his-friends.html

There's a lot of good material in there, but you'll have to read it through to follow the development of the campaign to the points where the Qs you have intersect with the campaign issues/themes/foes/etc.


----------



## Rackhir

grodog said:


> Check out the Rogues Gallery thread @ http://www.enworld.org/forum/plots-places/5652-eadric-et-al-paladin-his-friends.html
> 
> There's a lot of good material in there, but you'll have to read it through to follow the development of the campaign to the points where the Qs you have intersect with the campaign issues/themes/foes/etc.




I've read most of it, but while he does discuss why he gave X this or Y that, he doesn't (that I recall) spend much time on how he makes things like a DC 88 spell "balance" vs people who have a save of +30.

When you get to the point that a d20 roll can't possibly make a difference is one of the most problematic aspects of high level D&D.


----------



## Vorput

Rackhir said:


> Can anyone point me to some threads (if they exist) where Sep discusses how he makes this sort of campaign work, creates challenges and balances out things?
> 
> One of the high level campaigns I'm in has hit some "problems" in these areas and it would be nice to have some insight into how Sep does it.




There was a thread awhile back where Cheiromancer and Sepulchrave basically reworked the entire epic magic system.  That had a whole bunch of ideas, tweaks, plain re-writing of the rules, etc.  I can't find it now though.  It's possible is was lost in the boards crash awhile back.

Someone with search options could look for threads started by Sep though- It should be in there.

EDIT:  Found it.  See here (which i didn't know existed and might be more helpful to you) http://www.enworld.org/forum/dog-soul-hosted-forum/?pp=25&daysprune=-1

and here specifically: http://www.enworld.org/forum/dog-soul-hosted-forum/172905-epic-magic-big-thread.html


----------



## Cheiromancer

I can't speak for Sepulchrave, but I found that the rewritten system was too cumbersome.  And extrapolating from existing rules magnified balance problems so that they became exponentially more problematic.  My clearest recollection of this was in respect to _blindness_.  It is severely under-costed.  Figuring out what magic items epic characters should have was also nightmarish, but we needed those to figure out the costs of stat enhancements.  I finally just got tired of it all.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Mostin Ex Machina*


Temenun meditated in Dream. His ancient consciousness – elevated by powerful magics and attuned to destructive urges – rapidly took stock of the changing situation. Prescient impulses crowded his mind, each seeking to assert its own augury as truth.

Sibud had fallen; the Vampire had been an arrogant fool, and the Tiger felt only contempt. To taunt vindictive sidhe-queens entailed certain risks, and departing one's own fortifications to slake an urge as base as _feeding_ brought the consequences it deserved. Masquerading as an agent hired by herself, Ortwine had infiltrated Thond, gained news of Sibud's whereabouts, and penetrated the spirits which attended him during his glut. A dirty, ignoble assassination.

Temenun smiled. Eventually, his Naztharunes would have accomplished the same task. But the sidhe had also succeeded in instigating a bloody feud between two opposing factions within the Truzha leadership; Thond's cohesion would soon be lost. Part of Dhatri's main force – bent on Jompa, where mortals were more abundant – would have to divert to Thond and resecure it.

Yeshe had vanished, presumably departing to a hidden sanctum to recoup. As many as half of the _Ushabam_ were destroyed, and her authority was now questionable at best. But not her _power_; Temenun would not underestimate _that_.

The Tiger considered Idyam now the greatest threat to his own supremacy; the demilich, virtually indestructible, had been quietly extending his power base. Temenun knew through his spies that Anumid had spoken with him at least three times, but Idyam played a cool courtship and patiently bided his time. 

Imperceptible to the oneiric guard which the Servants of the Sun had set in defense, Temenun dreamed his way in darkness to Scir Cellod to watch events as they unfolded.


**


Choach, and the thirty _Anantam_ who accompanied him, were entrenching quickly. They had cordoned a half-acre with _walls of force_ and fortified their position with _dimensional locks, symbols_ and a complex pattern of selective antimagic, overlayed by the lich himself. In unlocked areas, _teleportation circles_ were opened; a quartet of compacted balors herded goristros through with goads of adamant. A ruddy glow illuminated the magical beachhead.

Perched on a skeletal dragon, Choach gazed across the dark of the rising plain, bending his thought north and east. _Sunbursts_ strobed on the horizon over a low rise. He reached out with his mind to observe the main conflict, almost four miles away. Lacking adequate aerial support of his own, Prahar had pinned down the devas and griffons and forced a ground engagement. 

By now, Choach knew, the nature-priest must be spent. The lich contacted Anumid.

_The situation is precarious. You will need to send reinforcements if you deem victory important._

In Jashat, the Mouthpiece pondered. This might have been an ill-advised sortie, but one could hardly gainsay Visuit. 

With exquisite timing, Temenun's voice purred into his mind. _I am also here, Anumid. I can strike the decisive blow._

"How much?" Anumid asked aloud through gritted teeth.

_Two thousand._

Anumid almost laughed. It was a preposterous sum; almost two thirds of the liquid assets of the convocations. "Even were your solution watertight, I could not persuade the cabals to invest so much."

_Shvar Choryati,_ was Temenun's response.

The blood left Anumid's face. "I will communicate your offer."

_Do not tarry in your deliberations. You have less than an hour before Nashhte sets._

Anumid swore, and commanded a dozen babau to ring the gongs and summon the remaining _Anantam_ and as many of the _Kesha-Dirghaa_ as could be persuaded. He sent entreaties to Naatha and Rishih to reinforce Choach with their compactees as soon as they might.


**


In the chill night air, Ortwine soared undetected above the melee, ignoring Prahar's spell of impeded flight, and gazed at the spectacle below.

The enemy's initial charge had been brutal, and backed by a magical impetus which had broken the half-ordered Temple ranks. Now three great _kanistas_, led by the Penitents and the Illuminated, had rallied and penetrated the Cheshnite front. Ahead of them all, the goddess Ninit rode with the five Boars, cutting a swathe through everything in her path. Magical and supernatural detonations echoed across battlefield. Devas of varying moral persuasions acted as bulwarks around which Wyrish knights rallied.

Nwm had dismantled the ritual configuration; the saints, priests and adepts who had been involved were now free to engage the enemy: a task which they undertook with predictable gusto. Lai was reordering her handmaidens with Mesikammi; the shamaness was readying another rite.

Ortwine descended behind the Cheshnite lines, and wrought a powerful glamour: what was to pass here must go undetected, for a little while at least. She reached into a soft leather pouch and withdrew a slender black taper. Igniting it with a cantrip, she held the candle as it burned rapidly.

A balor appeared in a cloud of fire and smoke. It looked around suspiciously, its _true seeing_ unable to pinpoint Ortwine.

"Wait there for a while," the sidhe commanded, her voice issuing from somewhere close by. "I will have further instructions for you presently."

Her eyes penetrated the darkness ahead to observe Mesikammi as she invoked a massive _resurrection_: hundreds of corpses sprang to life again; those who had been _disintegrated_ incarnated in pristine forms. 

Ortwine raised an eyebrow; even the _death knights_ had been afforded random living bodies. Clothed in flesh again, some rejoiced, some wept, others fled or waxed furious; their variety was utterly bewildering: strange goblins and sprites; satyrs, mephits, nymphs and sylphs; animal spirits of every conceivable type. Other spirits for which Ortwine had no names.

_I have decided that I like your style_, Ortwine spoke with deific benevolence into Mesikammi's mind. _If you wish it, I will sponsor you._

_Power is power, and I accept; although I fear I might be too fickle a priestess._

_You may come to realize the absurdity of that sentiment._

Refocusing, Ortwine reached into her pouch and withdrew another candle.

*

The _Ahma_ fought upon _Narh_; on his left arm he bore a light buckler lent by Ortwine. The stallion seemed to anticipate his thought even before he did, and moved with a deadly, fluid grace. Already brimming with primal energy, _Narh_ had been infused yet further with Green power by Nwm. Sundry wards and both the _Mantle_ and the _Quickening_ protected Eadric still, but the ecstasy of the _Benediction_ had passed, and the grim reality of the conflict had returned to him. 

It was a confused riot: cadres of dismounted knights formed protective rings around Flamines as they worked magic; Abyssal blasts issued from death knights, penetrating the Temple ranks. Celestials moved amongst the Wyrish troops, bringing respite wherever they showed themselves; Temple Scrollbearers were evoking _flame strikes_ and _sunbursts_, wasting squadrons of undead cavalry. A hundred other magical lights had been struck. Protected by Nwm's _Quickening_, the Templars were proving exceptionally hard to kill. The Dark Choir slew everything in its path.

Overhead, the stars winked as the fume generated by lesser magics was dispersed by the persistent breeze of Prahar's spell. Hyne winded Hemah's horn, a piercing call which echoed across the battlefield. 

Striking down the enemy rapidly, the _Ahma_ attempted to run a gauntlet of undead knights with Rede, Tarpion and Tahl in order to reach Prahar's standard; he hewed his way forwards until the press became so thick he could no longer move; the reek of the Cheshnite horses – drawn from demonic stock – was suffocating. He spoke a _holy word_, burning away the knights ahead and allowing him to push forward another twenty yards. Tarpion and Rede flanked him, pronouncing _dicta_ and rendering the enemy insensible. Behind, Saint Tahl – grown ten feet tall – now fought on foot.

Prahar, also in the thick of combat but a furlong distant, uttered a profanity and struck Eadric and his company with a _horrid wilting_, which the _Mantle_ deflected easily. As the _Ahma_ fended the blows from some petty godling, he caught glimpses of Prahar's manner in battle. It made him more than a little nervous.

The undead warrior exhibited a slavering rage whilst raining down magical fire. And when any came within reach of his sword, he killed them instantly, with one stroke. Always.

Eadric cursed as he cut down his opponent, looking past him; now another _gate_ was opening near Prahar.

The _Ahma_ groaned as a great _Ugra_, hugely muscled and bearing a massive rod lurched through, smashing everything in his path. A distended gut hung over grotesque genitalia; vast horns curved down, then up, then out. Rank hair covered him. _Aja_, the Great Goat.

Eadric knew him as Orcus.

Matters worsened.

*

Ortwine clapped her hands. Twelve balors – suitably _screened_ and _veiled_ – now attended her. All were _dominated_.

"Your primary target – with whom I am sure you are all familiar – is _Prince Orcus_. Perhaps some of you may have been waiting for this opportunity for a long time. Kill Orcus. Kill Prahar. Kill Choach. Kill any other members of the Cheshnite faction. Then return here."

Ortwine waved a hand dismissively. The twelve balors _teleported_ away. 

_And bring me trophies,_ she reminded them.


**


The Tiger dreamed his way back to Jashat; he would evoke his spell from a safe distance. Proximity to such a thing as this was never advisable. Beneath a great dome, the assembled magi were waiting for him.

Gathering his energies, Temenun reached out through Dream. Drawing on the pattern generated by the _Anantam_, he penetrated layers of veils, deep into ancient nightmares. His mind rested, still, within the primordial Dark. He breathed deeply.

_Shvar Choryati_, he whispered, and turned his thought back two hundred miles to the north.


**


The meticulous preparations for the Abyssal descent were nearing completion.

Thirteen Wizards now worked magic furiously. They conjured allies and warded themselves, haggling over access to one another's spells like children at a fig stand.

Mostin had been forced to revise his plan; yet another delay, but one insisted upon by a vocal minority led by Waide and Tozinak. They must first target the entire area in Azzagrat with the largest expulsive spell they could muster, _before_ the _Quiescence_ was evoked, ridding the area of chthonic nuisances before proceeding.

Mostin had been forced to reconfigure another spell, a process which took valuable time.

When he was finally ready, the Alienist consulted the _web of motes_ again. Soneillon's significator was beginning a resonance with Rimilin; the wizard would soon bind her, as Graz'zt had indicated. Mostin felt uneasy. He hated it when demons told the truth; it made things so much more complicated.

Even as he observed, possibilities multiplied; an area of flux was causing dozens of motes to swerve along unlikely cateneries. Mostin swore profusely. 

_No! Not now! Why was it always now? Why couldn't it wait?_

Eadric's mote suddenly careened towards him at breakneck speed, engulfing him.

Mostin snapped out of his reverie as he was struck by a desperate _sending_ issued by Tahl.

_Mostin. Help. Please._

"This is a most unfair choice," Mostin protested.

*

Scenes of battle passed across the surface of the _Mirror of Urm-Nahat_. A ravenous darkness, rolling across the conflict, appeared to be consuming Wyrish troops by the company.

"It's simple," Daunton sighed. "Do you know nothing of committees? We vote; and quickly. Abstentions must also abide by the majority decision. Mostin, as host, must vote last. In the event of a tie, I have the casting vote. My vote is for a return to Wyre."

"To Azzagrat," Jalael said immediately.

"No vote," Tozinak sighed. "I simply cannot. I am overwrought."

"To Azzagrat," Muthollo concurred.

"To Azzagrat," Hlioth nodded.

Mostin cocked his head. Now _that_ was unexpected.

"No vote," said Creq. "I have a mortuary in southern Hethio, and I would be loath to see it despoiled. But I am greedy, and wish to increase my power. I am genuinely conflicted."

"I cast no vote," Mulissu waved her hand dismissively. "I do not recognize the authority of the Wyrish Collegium, and reserve the right to ignore any decisions the committee reaches."

"To Wyre," Sho said unexpectedly. Mostin wondered which sentiment moved her; an inkling suggested it might be some sense of obligation to Nwm, but he had no evidence to support the theory.

"To Wyre, also," Troap nodded. "I am a mundane sort, by nature. Which makes me wonder as to which voice Hlioth is responding."

"Now is not the time to analyze motivation." Daunton groaned.

"To Wyre," Orolde answered.

"No vote," Waide growled. "At the moment, neither choice appeals. I am hungry, and I am late to bed."

"To Azzagrat," Droom of Morne spoke. "I would hate more to see the vote so uncontested."

Mostin glared at him.

Daunton looked desperately at the Alienist.

"Wyre," Mostin nodded. "Although I feel bound to point out that the target area is not actually _in_ Wyre, either politically or magically. Ladies and gentlemen, we are _unconstrained_."

"If you insist on this course of action," Hlioth sighed wearily, "you must first neutralize Choach, before he disperses his demons and becomes a further nuisance." 

"An opinion or a prophecy?" Mostin asked acidly.

"Quiet your ego!" Hlioth snapped. "And for once, do as I say. I will be busy dying elsewhere. Do not mourn. I will be back ere sunrise."

"Hence, I mourn." 

"After you have eliminated Choach, evacuate as many as you can," Hlioth sighed. "You cannot overcome this darkness."


**


Daunton pinpointed one of the gaps in Choach's protective net with a potent divination.

The _Infernal Tower_ appeared, unmasked by any illusion, within the lich's rapidly deploying force. The Collegiate mages stood on a wide balcony which Mostin had caused to be projected from the tower's wall at a height of fifty feet. The Alienist smashed the lattice of antimagic protecting the Cheshnite magi with a powerful _dispelling_.

A barrage of _disjunctions_ – previously prepared by the Wyrish wizards for the purpose of sealing the twenty-two chthonic _gates_ of Azzagrat – instead rained upon Choach and the _Anantam_, stripping them of protections, collapsing _walls of force_ and rendering _teleportation circles_ inert. 

Mulissu struck Choach with a _Glance of Thunder_; before he could _teleport_, she struck with another. Mostin detonated a massive sonic.

"Take out the balors, you idiots!" Mostin barked at the other wizards, who seemed to be targeting groups of demons indiscriminately.

Tozinak grew wings and hovered exitedly. "My egg has hatched! My egg has hatched!" 

Mulissu collapsed unconscious, blood pouring from her nose.

Deprived of his physical form, Choach fled back to his phylactery.

Five miles away, Eadric was alerted to the presence of the wizards by a peal of distant thunder.


*


----------



## Roman

Awesome! Thanks Sep, for another thrilling episode!


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## Atanatotatos

O___O
[size=-2]...Orcus?[/size]


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## The Forsaken One

Whoaaaa, seriously how much more can this escalate lol! Amazing .

Sick so many updates Sep, awsome! 

Cheers~!


----------



## Standish

************************
>> Tozinak grew wings and hovered exitedly. "My egg has hatched! My egg has hatched!" 
>>Mulissu collapsed unconscious, blood pouring from her nose.
************************

     Anybody follow what this is about? Are the events connected?


----------



## Gidien

A birthday update?! Why thank you Sep, however did you know?


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## Noir

beautiful sep. i am in awe as to how each of the major players seem to be coming from utterly different positions in the conflict and how all of these appear reasonable from each one's specific point of view.
oh, and lovin' the frequent updates! it's like being young again.


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## grodog

Fabulous update Sep!

I'm very curious to see what the consequences of the Wyrish wizards' decision NOT to purue the 'Urn will be, if any:  perhaps Soneillon gets it back??


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## Roman

Ortwine gets her first priestess!  It seems the godling is maturing.


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## GraysonEN

Frequent updates.. oh man! 

Always interesting to see how things unfold from each player's point of view. Absolutely fantastic.

I'm sure this has been said before, but once the campaign is done, this really should be bundled up and sold online, even if it was just a PDF. With a detailed glossary of terms (like, say, Anantam and Shvar Choryati from this update), so that those of us with imperfect memories can follow the minutae.. Add in game stats for the characters, spells, equipment, etc (whatever you could get away with under OGL), and I think it'd be one of the most popular PDFs ever released.


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## Cheiromancer

Standish said:


> ************************
> >> Tozinak grew wings and hovered exitedly. "My egg has hatched! My egg has hatched!"
> >>Mulissu collapsed unconscious, blood pouring from her nose.
> ************************
> 
> Anybody follow what this is about? Are the events connected?




I think Tozinak is just being crazy.  Mulissu's epic spell _Glance of Thunder_ probably has backlash as a mitigating component, and it seems she rolled a little high on the dice.


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## Roman

I love the title: 'Mostin Ex Machina'!


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## Standish

Thanks Cheiromancer. Waiting for the next update would have been brutal if I thought Tozinak had hatched some well laid plot.

GraysonEN: Funny you should mention  "Anantam and Shvar Choryati".  I Googled both these terms yesterday, and didn't get the answers I was looking for. Out of luck I happened to look at Eadric et. al.......   enjoy. 
   Eadric et. al. (The Paladin and his Friends).

Thanks for the update Sep    Was it much of a battle when Ortwine fell upon Sibud, or had she divined his state of glut to make a clean assassination?  Were the other players surprised when she "tossed Sibud's head to the ground at the Ahma's feet.". or did they know what had happened?

             Great work as always. Thanks again.


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## Atanatotatos

Well, if I was a vampire of god-like power, I'd find a godling Sidhe-queen with obscene Charisma a tasty snack, too...
'xcept, you know... vorpal swords...


----------



## Knightfall

Great! Great! Great!


----------



## the Jester

Noir said:


> oh, and lovin' the frequent updates! it's like being young again.




Yes. I know they are shorter, but oh god yes. 

Thanks, Sep. You're an inspiration.


----------



## Knightfall

the Jester said:


> Yes. I know they are shorter, but oh god yes.
> 
> Thanks, Sep. You're an inspiration.



So true.

Every time he posts, I get the urge to update my own story hour.


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## jensun

This is a great update, many thanks. 

I cant help but draw a parallel to the Afquitan session we never saw really desribed.  Is there any chance you might go back to it now you seem to be well in the writing groove?


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## tleilaxu

Cheiromancer said:


> I think Tozinak is just being crazy.  Mulissu's epic spell _Glance of Thunder_ probably has backlash as a mitigating component, and it seems she rolled a little high on the dice.




From the post "Visuit"


> "And the predicted length of our tenure in these regions?" Tozinak inquired, sniffling dismally.
> 
> "Around thirty minutes, if all goes to plan," Mostin grinned eagerly.
> 
> "Alas!" Tozinak wailed. "I may not live to see my egg hatch!"




I guess it is one of Toz's long term 'experiments' with the avian form.


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## Cheiromancer

@tleilaxu: I thought Mostin was supposed to be the crazy one.  Looks like Tozinak has him beat!


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## Asha'man

Oh, Mostin is perfectly sane ...within his own, unique perspective on reality.


----------



## Salthorae

Apparently Tozinak's paradigm appears more insane to us than does Mostin's


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## Noir

tleilaxu said:


> I guess it is one of Toz's long term 'experiments' with the avian form.




King Deuel of Pomperol anyone?


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Moonrise*


Hlioth appeared before Nwm. The Preceptor looked haggard.

"Go to Mostin and sort things out," she instructed. "Then start thinking of a way to get rid of _that_." The witch gestured irritably to a billowing void which absorbed everything in its path.

"I am spent," Nwm shook his head. 

"But you cannot be!" Hlioth groaned. "Mostin is missing me from his ritual; I had elected you my substitute."

Nwm glared at her. He _was_ spent; aside from a few restorative spells, he had almost nothing left.

"Work something out," Hlioth said irritably. "Is this all there is?" She glanced around: Lai and her handmaidens, a few Uediian priests and priestesses. Most seemed exhausted; at least Lai retained some of her power. 

"You are late to the party," Nwm smiled stonily.

"It will have to do. Give me what you've got."

Hlioth drew on their magic, invoked a powerful ward – on herself alone – and then vanished.

"Charming," Nwm sighed. He looked at Lai.

"I'll go," the goddess said. She vanished into the earth. 


*


Eadric was closer to it: an inky darkness which slithered across the ground like malign fog. It emanated terror; those which it touched, it snuffed out. Everything recoiled from it; it seemed bent only on destroying vibrancy and life. The telepathic screams issued by celestials which had encountered it still echoed in the _Ahma's_ mind.

He had no time to muse on such things. Orcus's mace slammed into his buckler, numbing his left arm; a sting like a wyvern's tail punched through a gap in his armor and potent venom threatened to overwhelm him. Horns, a maw, claws. A foul, rank, cloying smell. _Aja_ was a bastion around which all evil things rallied and from which all that was good was moved to flee. _Lukarn_ was impotent against the demon's defenses; the Prince of the Undead had erected a ward of indomitability about himself.

Orcus spoke a dark _blasphemy_. Eadric endured it; Rede and Tarpion reeled. Others nearby exploded into dust. 

Eadric groaned. Balors were now manifesting all around him. 

_They're on your side_, Ortwine's voice echoed in his head.

_Your timing is a little tight. Orcus is warded._

_Noted._

The _dominated_ balors targeted _Aja_ with _dispellings_. 


**


The stars shone brighter still.

Mesikammi had now waxed to her full power; the spell which she had wrought an hour before came into effect.

Reaching skywards, she plucked a meteor from the heavens and pulled it to the earth; the light as it struck the ground illuminated the countryside for miles around. Its impact vaporized an entire company of undead mercernaries, and left a smoking hole a hundred feet wide. 

Nwm glanced upwards. More stars seemed to be shifting.

"How many more do you have?" He asked.

"Three," Mesikammi smiled.

"Make 'em count," Nwm cautioned her.

_Mind my balors,_ Ortwine's voice carried to the shamaness.


**

The _Ahma_ enjoyed a brief lacuna in the combat; everything within a hundred feet was dead. Orcus had fled or obscured himself – a dozen balors was enough to cause even him pause for thought. Prahar had done the same, although Eadric anticipated that either or both would soon reappear.

In their absence, the demons had set upon the enemy knights.

Ortwine became visible and descended to the ground, her hand upon the pommel of her weapon. Eadric leaned heavily on _Lukarn_, and spat blood.

She gave a cool smile, and bowed. "I should apologize for doubting your capacity to keep me entertained. I have burned all but one of my candles; unfortunately, those fellows cannot linger too long. Still we're not doing so badly."

Eadric gestured with _Lukarn_ towards the consuming Void.

"There is that," Ortwine conceded. Her face became deadly serious. "You should consider sounding a general retreat. "

Eadric nodded. He knew it.


**


Hlioth materialized within a translucent jade sphere atop a precipice; below her, waves crashed at its base, the foam catching starlight. The moon was still a rumor on the eastern horizon. Nearby, an iron tower reared high into the sky.

_You._ Rimilin spoke into her mind.

As demons materialized around her, the Green Witch struck her staff upon the rock, sending forth a massive vibration which caused the ground to heave and ripple. Like a rising bore, it rapidly carried the tower and its contents over the edge of the cliff, toppling it into ocean below. The air around her was suddenly thick with fiends _teleporting_ away from the collapsing structure, hurling magic and bodies against her.

Unperturbed, Hlioth pronounced a swift _banishment_ of great power; green light flashed. Abruptly, all was quiet.

Rimilin arose from the wreck of his abode and alighted on the cliff-top twenty yards away.

"Are you done?" He asked. He struck her with a _disjunction_ and blasted her with arcane fire.

Hlioth smiled. The spell she cast – possessed of immense penetrative power – could not be turned. Rimilin knew that it had been crafted just for him.

A look of mild astonishment crossed his face; he had not expected another of that magnitude. And not this…

Rimilin vanished.

Hlioth sighed. The presence of another. A void with many tendrils. She saw Queen Soneillon quietly walking towards her; an annihilating fire began to consume the witch. 

"You have seen too much," Hlioth whispered as she expired.


**


Mostin grumbled. Goristros were hurling themselves at the base of the tower, and palrethees were appearing before him. The threat of the balors had – fortunately – been eliminated in quick measure: Jalael had _dominated_ one and hurled it at another; the two remaining had wisely chosen to avoid the same fate, and vanished.

The Alienist sighed. They were probably loose in the world. Somewhere. Tracking them and dispatching them was not a chore which concerned him.

Mostin invoked a chained _polymorph_; the demons directly ahead were transformed into trout and dropped to the ground. Those who were fortunate enough to avoid the hooves of the goristros flapped briefly before dying.

Creq was administering some necromantic elixir to Mulissu in order to revive her. Tozinak made encouraging sounds.

"Can't you _do_ something?" Mostin asked of Tozinak, incredulous. "Even Waide is _doing_ something." The other transmuter had reversed gravity, causing three of the enormous demons to bob in the air unceremoniously.

Tozinak pursed his lip – Mostin had no doubt that he had taken genuine offense – and  pointed. A goristro began to dance.

Lai sprang out of the ground, assumed the form of a falcon, shot upwards, dived, and landed on the balcony, resuming her normal shape in a single, seamless movement.

Mostin blanched.

"Hlioth indicated that you need another for your spell," Lai explained. She reached down and _healed_ Mulissu, saving her from Creq's dubious ministrations.

Mostin's prolepsis warned him of an impending explosion of planar conduits. Naatha and Rishih, with their allies. Too many; the force previously gathered to assault Fumaril.  More _teleportation circles_ began to appear, a quarter-mile to the north. Three _gates_ flashed open. Demons, giants, magi. Immortals. Mostin knew they were loaded with magic. They were coming through fast.

"Sh*t," the Alienist cursed. 

"Well?" Mulissu asked groggily.

"We have to," Mostin nodded glumly.

Drawing on the cabal, he invoked a massive _Quiescence of the Spheres_. The air became still, and all dimensional traffic within ten miles was stifled. Silence.

An acidic storm struck the tower. Orolde, Troap, Creq and Daunton perished.

"That it should come to this," Mulissu erected an _antimagic field_.

"Deploy the compactees," Mostin screamed, skin hanging from his nose like molten wax. 

A portal to the tower – no small postern, but a great gate – was opened. Dozens of compacted daemons, devils, hags and elementals – retained as security against Abyssal entanglements – poured forth. Quasits and mephits bickered in the air above them.

"After we get out of the vacuum, please tell me you can _wind walk_?" Mostin asked Lai.

"Only to a certain point," Lai said. "Prahar has forbidden flight beyond it."

Mostin groaned.

An old moon – a slender sickle, the colour of deep rust – finally arose from behind distant hills, casting morbid rays across the field.


**


Prahar had invoked a pitch darkness which defied all attempts to _dispel_ it. It encapsulated an area of fierce combat, where a great mob of undead horsemen were attempting to push through to a heavily defended Temple centre. Within the shadow, the void – famished and profane – rolled forward and consumed. Hysteria descended on the Wyrish forces. Their enemy – seemingly unaffected – struck at them ruthlessly. Tahl, separated from the others and finally surrounded and overwhelmed, self-immolated in a swirling column of fire and vanished, burning the enemy in a wide circle.

Nwm stumbled blindly toward the _Sela_'s redoubt, where he knew many of the hardiest knights were stationed; even his supernatural vision had been subdued. He cursed himself, assumed the shape of a wolf, and sniffed his way forwards. More than a few hacked at him in panic as he moved, mistaking him for the enemy; he shrugged off their blows.

Behind him, _it_ was coming. He could feel it; Green was buckling like a warped plank to accommodate it.

*

_Shvar Choryati_ encroached. Now it phased nearby in contempt of the _Quiescence of the Spheres_, first here and then there, slaying hundreds each time it appeared; half at random, but always _closer_, as if some instinct drew it obliquely inwards.

Nwm stilled his thought and considered his options. He observed its pattern, and pondered.

"You will not escape it," Nwm spoke to the _Sela_. "No magic can speed you fast enough now; all has been stilled. It hungers for you, albeit circuitously; it is does not perceive the route to you in linear fashion. Many are dying as it seeks you; we may never recover them. It will eat everything near you. Will you trust me and do as I say?" Nwm asked.

"Yes," Tramst replied. Even in the darkness, Nwm knew that his expression was open.

Nwm reached out and felt the _Sela_'s helm, and placed a hand on either side.

"Invoke her," the Preceptor said.

"Nehael," Tramst whispered. A supplication.

"Rest until the morning. I will wake you at sunrise." With a strong twist, Nwm snapped the _Sela_'s neck.

His death passed unnoticed by all except the Darkness.

Become an enormous hunting cat, Nwm bounded north and west. Two minutes later, beyond the range of Prahar's invocation, he assumed the form of a great eagle, and powered his way away, in search of a likely refuge.

Meanwhile, the void turned its attention to the brightest remaining source of light.


**


Lai led six wizards – Mostin, Mulissu, Jalael, Tozinak, Waide, and Droom – north and west across the battlefield in vaporous form. Sho and Muthollo had retreated into the Tower, in the event that one amongst the Cheshnite immortals was to prove intent upon – and capable of – breaching it. _Disjoining_ the wards upon the solar in the vestibule had been the Alienist's suggestion as to their first line of defense.

As Mostin sped away from his fortress, he noticed that a number of large nozzles had emerged at intervals around the tower, and were projecting some kind of hellfire at the advancing demons.

Evidently, Sho had been referencing more obscure tomes than he; this function was unknown to him.

To hasten their passage, Mulissu had evoked a roaring wind which verged on agonizing to ride. Only moments later, Naatha, Guho and a group of _Kesha-Dirghaa_ theurges were in swift pursuit, employing similar tactics. The savant immediately conjured elementals to delay them.

Below, isolated skirmishes persisted between death knights and paladins; ahead, a blank hemisphere a half-mile in diameter had sprung up. Around it – and presumably within it – the main conflict surged to and fro.

[Mostin]: What is your evacuation plan?

[Mulissu]: I? 

[Jalael]: He means any but he.

[Mostin]: I am not equipped to move large numbers of mundanes. What do we have left?

(Tally of spells).

[Jalael]: Were that we were better configured for offense. 

[Mostin]: We will be next time. 

[Waide]: There will be no 'next time.' I might also observe that the stress of our current predicament is having a deleterious effect upon Tozinak's delicate psyche.

[Tozinak]: Do not speak of me as though I am not here!

[Jalael]: The fat transmuter fears stress, Tozinak. Pay him no heed. Somehow, you have stumbled your way into transvalency.

[Tozinak] (emboldened): Quite so! 

[Mostin]: A month previous would have been preferable. 

[Tozinak]: I have a spell already at hand!

[Waide]: He is clearly deranged.

[Tozinak]: Preparation will take only a few moments. I must corporeate and study my petroglyphs.

[Mostin + Mulissu]: What do you speak of?

[Tozinak]: My slab, bequeathed by Jovol. His last work.

[Mostin]: What is it titled, idiot?

[Tozinak]: There is no need for rudeness, Mostin.

[Mostin]: _Its name!_

[Tozinak]: _A Flame Precedes the Aeon_

[Mulissu] (exasperated): Just show us the pattern.

(A pause for inspection)

[Mostin]: A Grand Enochia? A conjuration, or a transmutation? It makes no sense. The spell is scribed in terms of Urgic Altitudes. It needs thirteen…

[Jalael]: Tozinak! You imbecile! 

Mostin groaned as he saw. The focus required was _Pharamne's Urn_.

Ortwine's voice suddenly echoed in his head. _Mostin! You made it! How delightful!_

As they began to descend, Mostin looked down and sighed. The sidhe was waltzing with a balor upon a heap of the slain. 

From without the magical darkness, the insatiable void now lurched uncertainly; but away from the conflict, south and east towards Jompa.

Ahead of it, drawing it onwards, a streak of brilliant light; Eadric brandishing _Lukarn_ and riding upon _Narh_.


**


In Nizkur, the appeal reached her.

Teppu immediately stopped time.

"Thank-you," Nehael acknowledged. A moment to reflect was never a bad thing.

"It is an eventful night," Teppu observed. "And I am losing track. Has Nwm overstepped the mark, I wonder?"

"Frankly, I find Hlioth's play more outrageous." 

"Enitharmon will be in flap," Teppu pointed out.

Nehael nodded. "I anticipate he will send episemes to penetrate the _Hahio_. I might need to have words with them."

"Be gentle with them," Teppu said wrily. 

"I will invite them to stay," Nehael smiled. "I can be very accommodating. If you would…"

Time resumed its normal flow.

The goddess reached out to Tramst; Her grace enfolded his spirit, and kept him safe.


** **


By the light of a dim oil lamp, the Adversary relaxed in the study of Mostin's manse, sipping firewine and playing a game of chance with Mei. 

"Alas," he remarked wrily to the _simulacrum_. "I fear that you have no ego and I have no name. We should each borrow a little from the other."

Mei was confused. She still didn't know why this sprite was here. He seemed pleasant enough, and his manners were always impeccable; although she could never tell if he was being serious. 

"No, thank-you. I await my pseudogenesis," she answered, playing a red token with three sphinxes graven on it.

"Might I inquire why?" The Adversary asked.

"I must weigh transcendence against preservation; I favor a high ratio of the former to the latter."

"Your sister seems content enough." The Adversary carefully placed two white tokens – each bearing a yellow trifoil – on the table. "Hers is a rapid path."

"I wish for a greater leap," Mei shrugged.

"Ahh," the Adversary nodded. "I face a similar dilemma. Although mine is rather the reverse."

"I do not comprehend."

"The certitude of _diminishment_, or the high likelihood of _extinction_. You may remove that token from beneath your hand; you must learn more finesse if you are going to cheat at this game." He played another yellow trifoil.

"And if you choose to risk extinction, and yet persist?" Mei inquired, unabashed that her subterfuge was revealed.

"I fear I might be _forgiven_. From my perspective, this is the worst possible outcome."

"Diminishment is so untenable a proposition?"

"My circumstances are rather unique," the Adversary smiled.

"And extinction?"

"I speak metaphorically, of course."

Mei gave a puzzled look. "I can no longer follow this argument."

The Adversary sighed. "It is complex. I also regret to inform you that I have won the game." 

He placed a blue tile bearing a pomegranate before him.

"You already played that token!" Mei objected.

"I'm sure I didn't. Perhaps you are mistaking the previous game with this."

"This game bores me," Mei remarked. "I never win."

"I have another," the Adversary suggested. "If you would prefer. It is called _Requite_."

"Are there more tokens?"

"Of a sort," the Adversary admitted. "But of a more abstract kind. We pretend to dispense judgement upon our devilish minions, pronouncing terrible dooms; their humiliation and subjugation serves to magnify us. We must maneuver our pieces cunningly; our minions are apt to squabble amongst themselves."

"It sounds involved."

"It is," the Adversary nodded. "But I am well-practiced, and I can teach you. Would you care to learn?"

Mei shrugged. It was something to pass the time.


----------



## Roman

This is awesome! I am thrilled at the frequent updates!


----------



## grodog

That Adversary sure does get around, doesn't he?


----------



## Quartz

Oh my... :happy dance:


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## tleilaxu

thanks sep! i hope you don't get burned out on the updates any time soon. i am really enjoying them.


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## GraysonEN

Sepulchrave II said:


> [Jalael]: Tozinak! You imbecile!
> 
> Mostin groaned as he saw. The focus required was _Pharamne's Urn_.






Frequent updates!


----------



## Cheiromancer

> Hlioth sighed. The presence of another. A void with many tendrils. She saw Queen Soneillon quietly walking towards her, even as an annihilating fire consumed her.
> 
> "You have seen too much," the witch whispered, as she expired.




Was Soneillon consumed?  Did Hlioth expire?  Or do I have the wrong antecedents for these pronouns?



> "Enitharmon will be in flap," Teppu pointed out.
> 
> Nehael nodded. "I anticipate he will send episemes to penetrate the Hahio. I might need to have words with them."




Is the Hahio another name for Shvar Choryati?


----------



## Sepulchrave II

> Was Soneillon consumed? Did Hlioth expire? Or do I have the wrong antecedents for these pronouns?




Hlioth was both consumed and expired; I have edited the text to read more intelligibly.



> Is the Hahio another name for Shvar Choryati?




_Hahio_ is the 'Green' matrix of which Tree is an aspect; including a multiplicity of 'Spirit' planes, 'Faerie' planes etc. Tramst enters that reality when he agrees to let Nwm _reincarnate_ him. Enitharmon pushes the panic button and sends exalted celestials in to look for him.


----------



## Samnell

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> _Hahio_ is the 'Green' matrix of which Tree is an aspect; including a multiplicity of 'Spirit' planes, 'Faerie' planes etc. Tramst enters that reality when he agrees to let Nwm _reincarnate_ him. Enitharmon pushes the panic button and sends exalted celestials in to look for him.




"Hey, quit kill-stealing our incarnate mystagogue, you dirty Green bastards!"


----------



## Roman

Sepulchrave II said:


> "Invoke her," the Preceptor said.
> 
> "Nehael," Tramst whispered. A supplication.
> 
> "Rest until the morning. I will wake you at sunrise." With a strong twist, Nwm snapped the _Sela_'s neck.




!!!! 

The 'Green' is getting good at stealing Oronthon's followers - now possibly stealing even a part of Oronthon himself! 



Sepulchrave II said:


> "The certitude of _diminishment_, or the high likelihood of _extinction_. You may remove that token from beneath your hand; you must learn more finesse if you are going to cheat at this game." He played another yellow trifoil.
> 
> "And if you choose to risk extinction, and yet persist?" Mei inquired, unabashed that her subterfuge was revealed.
> 
> "I fear I might be _forgiven_. From my perspective, this is the worst possible outcome."




Very interesting, now we are learning more about the Adversary's motivations for his recent actions and disposition.


----------



## Knightfall

tleilaxu said:


> thanks sep! i hope you don't get burned out on the updates any time soon. i am really enjoying them.



Agreed.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Interpenetration* (Mostin _In Machinam_)


The air rushed past the _Ahma_ as he rode along the sward above the Hynt Coched. As _Shvar Choryati_ had made its first dimensional lurch toward him, Eadric knew that its attention had become focused on him. Having considered that he would be able to draw it away and outpace it, the _Ahma_ had veered sharply south. It quickly became apparent that he had miscalculated.

Some distance away, Mostin turned his _arcane sight_ around him.

Wild magic danced intermittently in the air; auroras generated by the interplay of a half-dozen potent spells. Nearby, the wall of Prahar's _Utterdark_ loomed, impenetrable to his vision; south, the vastness of the _Pall of Dhatri_ was now visible in the moonlight. He gazed west: Naatha, Guho and the hierophants were almost upon them. 

Eastward, where the plain rose away, Eadric blazed a path faster than any _wind walker_, opening a gap of over two miles between himself and the consuming blackness. The phenomenon shuddered forward again – and a little east – ripping the fabric of reality and stretching the _Quiescence of the Spheres_ until it squeezed through, and the dimensional lock snapped back into place.

In an instant, the void sprang forwards almost mile. Mostin's _foresight_ informed him that the _Ahma_ wasn't going to make it. A series of presentiments impacted on his mind.

Mostin cursed, dismissed the _Quiescence_, and invoked a _time stop_. He _teleported_ to a point immediately ahead of Eadric, opened a _gate_, and hopped through. It was a strategy which the Alienist had previously used to extricate Mulissu from Graz'zt's clutches.

Time recommenced.

Eadric blinked, saw Mostin beckoning toward a serene vista, and was instantly transported.

*

The _Ahma_, sat astride _Narh_, was high on a mountain; a narrow path wound downwards and away from him. Monasteries clung to the wooded lower slopes; isolated hermitages were perched on bare, snowy shoulders higher up. Below, wide vistas stretched to blue. It was an idyll, as if stolen from a dream he had once had in an innocent youth: a view of the Blessed Plain from the Beatitudes. Now, he seemed to be awakening from a nightmare; he removed his battered helm and breathed. The air was sweet and sharp and full with energy. All was pristine. The sky seemed composed of tiny motes which danced before his eyes, until he focused his sight.

High above, uncounted myriads of archons and devas whirled in the sky. Spheres of increasing brilliance seemed to issue up and away from him, defying laws of distance and perception. Beyond, the Magnitudes pulsed. The light – refracted through the planes of four interposing heavens – was still too overwhelming to gaze upon.

*Ahma*, the celestials sighed into his mind with one voice. 

The massive vibration made Eadric shake.

Mostin stood looking back through the _gate_ into the darkness of _Shvar Choryati_ as it oozed around the portal, unable to penetrate. His pseudopod flexed nervously.

"Mostin…"

"I know they're above me," the Alienist said through gritted teeth. "That's why I'm not turning around and looking up. "

"No. How did you..."

"We had to come a long way in. It might have followed you anywhere else. Believe me when I say I can think of more agreeable locales."

"I need to get back to the fight." 

Mostin sighed. "That's precisely what you _don't_ want to do, Eadric. It wants to eat your 'soul' – or whatever you term it. You need Nwm. This is out of your league."

"But the _Sela_…"

*Sela!* A pulse which made the mountain tremble. 

"Tramst is dead," a familiar voice said. 

Eadric turned to face Rintrah, Oronthon's Messenger. He was clad in a simple white gown.

"For the time being," the celestial added. "He is in transit, under Nehael's protection. There is some disagreement amongst the Host whether he is safe or not."

"Disagreement?" Mostin asked, averting his eyes. The notion amongst celestials was a novel one.

"Do you believe him safe?" The _Ahma_ asked directly.

"Yes. But I am in the minority, and my opinion matters little."

"Ah, a demonstration of Empyreal initiative," Mostin sneered. He continued to look through the _gate_; the blackness had passed over, and was gravitating back to a more reliable source of light. There seemed to be no activity in the immediate vicinity; _Shvar Choryati_ had scoured all bare. A ruddy moonlight had returned to the battlefield.

"I am fallible," Rintrah answered, unfazed. "Enitharmon, less so. How could I deny this basic fact?"

Mostin groaned, and turned to face the celestial, his expression one of nausea. "You are trite. You appeal to hierarchy to avoid responsibility: you are fundamentally disingenuous."

"I wish you were capable of understanding otherwise, Mostin…"

The Alienist became red and twitched. "Would it avoid the World being wracked because Oronthogorgon is having another existential crisis?"

"Enough!" Eadric's eyes flashed. "You forget where you are."

*Wrath!* Thunder echoed in the spheres above.

Mostin quailed – an expression which quickly became a pout – and turned back to look through the _gate_, positioning himself again so as not to observe Rintrah directly. Evidently, Eadric possessed some kind of home ground advantage.

Things seemed to be quiet through the portal.

"I'm done here," Mostin announced. "I'm going back through. As you're staying for a while, Eadric, maybe you can ask..."

"I can tell you nothing of the Aeon," Rintrah anticipated him.

"Whatever," Mostin grumbled. "I'm assuming you can figure out a way back. Mulissu was just as appreciative when I did the same for her."

Mostin vanished and the _gate_ snapped shut.

"We should go this way," Rintrah smiled to Eadric. "The view is good."

"Rintrah, I cannot stay…"

"Certainly, you can – for a while. Mostin is correct in one thing; you can no longer meaningfully influence the outcome of this battle."

*Gone*.

"Gone? Who is gone?" Eadric asked.

Rintrah raised an eyebrow. Evidently, this was also news to the Messenger. "The seven seraphs who entered Viridescence."

"_Seraphim_?" Aside from Enitharmon, none among the highest choir had left their Altitude since the Fall.

"These are eventful times," Rintrah nodded. "It would appear that Nehael has appropriated them."

*(A Migration of Light)*.

Eadric was dumbfounded. Apparently, others amongst the Host were inclined to join them. A few – perhaps too eager – fell catastrophically, striking the plains below and vanishing.

Rintrah smiled. "Stay focused on the path ahead, and don't be distracted by what transpires above. Do not _concern_ yourself too much; in Consciousness, all events are allegory. Let us walk a little way further; there is a tree I would like you to see."

"In the face of calamity, you seem in no hurry to act."

"I sense no diminishment in the quality of the light," Rintrah said wrily. "It is a prodigal spark which counsels action as the only means to induce motion. I am not here at Enitharmon's behest: I am His Messenger."

"Forgive me," Eadric nodded.


**


As the _Quiescence of the Spheres_ dissolved and Mostin vanished, Ortwine, Lai and the remaining wizards found themselves in something of a predicament. The sidhe had quickly _screened_ them, and Jalael had immediately _disjoined_ Prahar's darkness in order to gain a better appreciation of the tactical situation. It was bad.

Temple units, who had been unable to endure the presence of _Shvar Choryati_, were routing to the north and west: great, curved swathes of lifeless corpses marked the passage of the Eater of Light. 

Prince Tagur, who commanded the rearguard, had deployed a screen of knights to cover the retreat. Prahar led a vicious pursuit. Squadrons of death knights roamed and slew at will, cutting down stragglers and hurling themselves against any remaining pockets of resistance. Three large knots of Templars and their allies remained, but many of the doughtiest warriors – those in whom the light shone brightest – had been greedily devoured by the enemy. 

Some distance away, outside of the zone where flight had been dampened, what remained of the Dark Choir – the arch-devas Irel and Shokad – gyred in the sky, locked in furious but inconclusive combat with Prince Orcus and a number of lesser demons.

Ortwine's perception identified Naatha, Guho and their _wind-walking_ cabal half-a-minute distant. A hundred yards away, a demon materialized. And another. Rishih was active, and the _teleportation circles_ were opening again. The consuming darkness – distracted momentarily a mile to the southeast – was moving back towards them. News of the disappearance of both the _Ahma_ and the _Sela_ was beginning to spread. 

The sidhe turned to Mulissu. 

"Remind me why it is exactly that you're here again?" She asked.

"Hlioth seems to think that some kind of evacuation is both possible and desirable."

Ortwine raised an eyebrow. "The witch?"

Mulissu nodded. "Her foresight is erratic, but occasionally inspired."

"I suppose so. I will negotiate some breathing space." She handed Mulissu her _box of shades_.

"You seek to parley?" Mulissu was incredulous. "At this juncture? Why would they listen to you? And why do you pay heed to _Hlioth_, of all people?"

Ortwine laughed.

_Prahar_, she spoke directly into his mind, but also into the thoughts of those other immortals who were present. _I've got Sibud's talisman. Call off your dogs. I'm willing to make a deal._

[Guho + Rishih + Naatha]: Wait!


**


The Alienist glanced around nervously and licked his lips. He was nearing the point where he was becoming vulnerable; a decidedly undesirable situation. He reached out with his mind to contact Sho.

Moments later, the _Infernal Tower_ appeared immediately before Mostin, rearing above him with its gate facing him.

[Sho]: I recommend that you embark quickly.

Mostin didn't need telling twice.

[Mulissu]: Mostin! Where the hell have you been? Never mind. Get to Kustus and what's left of the Flamines. Get them out of here. 

[Mostin]: Why the hiatus?

[Jalael]: Ortwine is ceding the field and negotiating the safe recovery of casualties.

[Mostin] (Mad Laughter): Safe? I notice a certain chthonic void seems undistracted by any diplomatic protocols. And since when did Ortwine become the chief ambassador of Wyre?

[Mulissu] (Irritated): Since she could lie better than anyone else! Now make haste!


**


"A weregild, so to speak," Ortwine smiled easily. "Or reparations if you prefer. Or simply bribery, if we can speak more directly."

Her apparent nonchalance belied her caution, and she was ready to sidestep into Faerie at the first sign of treachery, or if any magical energies were suddenly gathered. Before her, four great Cheshnite immortals – Prahar, Guho, Rishih and Naatha – were arrayed, surrounded by dozens of undead and demonic retainers.

Ortwine was alone. She was also surprised to find that Sibud's token was attracting this much attention, and lamented the fact that she might be grossly _underestimating_ its value. The sidhe scanned the opposition.

Naatha, she had encountered before, but the others were new to her. Guho writhed, a festering heap of corruption; larvae – which seemed to comprise her entirety – shifted and flowed in shapes which paused at times to resemble that of a mortal visage.

Prahar was mounted on a black monster of approximately equine shape; he was clad in full harness, but his raised visor displayed a shrivelled countenance; one which indicated both a malice and a madness of unguessable depth. From his jaws – punctuated by rows of razor-sharp teeth – a sticky secretion dripped. He raved and slavered, and seemed barely in control of his faculties.

Rishih – who stood slightly to one side, with obvious distaste for his peers – appeared human; albeit one ancient and wicked. A weight of being afflicted him, as though he craved annihilation; he wore only an ascetic's garb, but bore a staff of tremendous power.

Before them all stood Anumid, grudgingly invoked by the immortals as arbiter. His veneer of civility was thin.

"But to which oaths can I bind you?" Ortwine continued. "I suspect that each of you is as inclined to malfeasance as I in contractual matters. The answer is none, of course; hence I continue to speak."

"We give you one hour," Anumid spat. "I do not speak for _Shvar Choryati_. Give me the talisman. There are no assurances."

"Prahar should first dismiss his spell," Ortwine said reasonably. Within range of her deific sight, Mostin's tower had materialized again. "It will expedite our retreat."

Naatha, also sensing the relocation of the infernal device, immediately assumed treachery and targeted Ortwine with chains of _antimagic_.

The sidhe had vanished before she had even raised her hand.

_Too bad_, Ortwine's voice echoed in their minds, moments later. 

Prahar became enraged. The others withdrew from him.

"Fortify your position before sunrise," Anumid hissed to Rishih and Naatha. "Let the maniac be concerned with any pursuit. Consolidate. The field is ours."

Anumid scowled, but felt an inward relief that Sibud's token was not in Prahar's hands. At least his own presence had averted the immortals coming to blows with one another. That had to be worth something. For the moment, at least.

*

Jalael had conjured a _teleportation circle_ – the only one available to any of the remaining collegiate mages – through which the remnants of the Temple centre were fleeing. Tozinak had opened a _gate_; Mulissu a _shadow avenue_. Temple scrollbearers and flamines were being ushered into the _Infernal Tower_ against their better judgement. At Mostin's suggestion, egress from the battlefield was being offered first to spellcasters; others – who weren't as strategically important – would have to make their own arrangements. 

Demons harried them in droves; _banishments_ were discharged.


**


As the very first light of dawn stole over the battlefield, a pillar of flame appeared amid the slaughter, at the same spot where Saint Tahl the Incorruptible had self-immolated. Fiery wings – briefly appearing and then vanishing – cradled Tahl as he corporeated again.

Looking around him, he wept.

"Come," Hlioth said, appearing from nowhere. "Before they do. We have lost much tonight."

In her hand, she held _Drengh_, Ninit's spear.

*

Eighty miles to the north, perched on a rocky crag, Nwm – in the form of an eagle with a battered aspect – awoke and screeched. His head hurt. He remembered little of his exhausted journey to his roost.

As he stretched his wings, he started. Squatting motionless on her haunches above him, perched upon an outcrop and staring southwards at the _Pall of Dhatri_, a lean figure; sable-clad, with scarlet hair flapping in the wind. She said nothing.

In his mind, another voice.

[Nehael]: About time. You have a busy day ahead. 

Nwm groaned. 


**


Temenun relaxed in his suites at Jashat. A victory, to be certain. He apprised a Naztharune servant that he had a visitor, and to admit Yeshe the Binder. She entered calmly.

"What do you know of the _Urn_?" She asked.

"It reaches beyond the Veils," he replied.

"You incited Visuit to interrupt my meditation?"

"Her instinct for war needs no prompting," Temenun purred. 

"And the _Urn_?"

"Is safely buried in the deep again. _Gu_-Kaama has recovered it. Mostin inadvertently empowered her."

"_Shvar Choryati_ is out of control. It drives northwards now toward Wyre. The Enforcer will eliminate the _Anantam_ who are implicated in its conjuration if it passes her threshold. I assume that you have some contingency in mind?"

"I have a while yet to consider," the Tiger said smoothly. "And always time to indulge your curiosity, Yeshe."

"You are most gracious, brother," Yeshe smiled insincerely.


----------



## Salthorae

W00t! First reply 

Awesome as always Sep! Each post has great and epic things going on... thanks for sharing with us all.


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## The Forsaken One

I think I'm ODing *gurgle*


----------



## Cheiromancer

So many interesting events are transpiring...  angels falling into Viridescence, _Shvar Choryati_ lurching towards Wyre; if the Enforcer goes after the Anantam, the Chesnite victory will be hollow indeed... Ninit apparently down... Sibud's token in the hands of the good guys... Soneillon recovered the Urn!   Did she get the epic pseudonatural template added to the chthonic template!?  I seem to recall that vast quantities of time can pass Outside without any time passing... she could have been gone for geological ages, subjectively speaking.

edit:  Ninit is one of the Nireem.  What is Hlioth doing with her spear?  Her _+5 ghost touch greater wounding_ spear?


----------



## The Forsaken One

Cheiromancer said:


> So many interesting events are transpiring...  angels falling into Viridescence, _Shvar Choryati_ lurching towards Wyre; if the Enforcer goes after the Anantam, the Chesnite victory will be hollow indeed... Ninit apparently down... Sibud's token in the hands of the good guys... Soneillon recovered the Urn!   Did she get the epic pseudonatural template added to the chthonic template!?  I seem to recall that vast quantities of time can pass Outside without any time passing... she could have been gone for geological ages, subjectively speaking.




Yeah the tendrils disturbed me greatly as well :/


----------



## EroGaki

So Hlioth somehow survived her encounter with Soneillon. I'd say I'm shocked, but death doesn't seem to be much of a obstacle these days.


----------



## Cheiromancer

EroGaki said:


> So Hlioth somehow survived her encounter with Soneillon. I'd say I'm shocked, but death doesn't seem to be much of a obstacle these days.




That's the truth!  But Hlioth's demise and return were anticipated:

_"Quiet your ego!" Hlioth snapped. "And for once, do as I say. I will be busy dying elsewhere. Do not mourn. I will be back ere sunrise."

"Hence, I mourn." _

As long as you aren't soul-trapped, death is just a time-out.


----------



## Roman

It is a very nice update.  

BTW: Do we know what Sibud's token does?


----------



## Erevanden

I assume that this is what every other immortal wants to put his greedy fingers/claws/worms on 



> Talisman of Necromatic Power (Major Artifact): This age-worn, plain black disc grants a +6 enhancement bonus to the Wisdom and Charisma of *any undead spellcaster*. Furthermore, it grants a +2 profane bonus to all caster level checks and save DCs of spells and spell-like abilities from the necromancy school which the wearer uses. Finally, it grants a +30 competence bonus to all Spellcraft and Knowledge (arcana) checks involving the necromancy school.




Hmm...I begin to understand why Naatha, Guho, Rishih and even Anumid would prefer the Talisman to stay as far away from Prahar as possible. I wonder though, since he is level wise on par with the other immortals - somewhere around CR 35, why doesn't he possess a similiar item (Temenun and Yeshe each have one) ??


----------



## Roman

Ah thanks - that explains it.


----------



## EroGaki

Cheiromancer said:


> That's the truth!  But Hlioth's demise and return were anticipated:
> 
> _"Quiet your ego!" Hlioth snapped. "And for once, do as I say. I will be busy dying elsewhere. Do not mourn. I will be back ere sunrise."
> 
> "Hence, I mourn." _
> 
> As long as you aren't soul-trapped, death is just a time-out.




Hmmm, I completely forgot about that conversation. Now it all makes more sense.


----------



## GneralTsao

Sepulchrave II said:


> in Consciousness, all events are allegory.




Just flat out beautiful.  Beautiful.


----------



## Noir

Bump


----------



## grodog

Great stuff, Sep!:  how far behind the current events in the SH are you now?


----------



## Ruined

shadesilverhand said:


> Eadric the Pure - Grand Champion of the Argent Crusade - is an NPC in the latest World of Warcraft patch: Eadric the Pure - Quest - World of Warcraft  Maybe coincidence but considering he is the Grand Champion of an order of paladins?  I somehow doubt it.




My apologies for WoW references in this thread, but it looks like the Eadric the Pure NPC is more than just a quest-giver. It appears he's one of the new bosses to fight in the upcoming Trial of the Champion.

http://static.mmo-champion.com/mmoc/images/news/2009/june/eadricthepure.jpg

They've found one of the in-game achievements involves killing Eadric with his own hammer. =\

It still may or may not be related to our favorite paladin, but I'd like to think it is.


----------



## Justin

Hi Sep,

In re-reading the last couple of updates, I'm wondering how far this story will go, leading to a couple of questions I hope you can find the time to answer, without (of course) spoiling anything for us. 

Is your group still playing?

How far behind is the story hour from its current status?

How much of a risk is there to the PCs? For example, could any of them truly die, or at least be taken out of play permanently? What would the elimination of Eadric mean to the story?

With such a tremendous scope already in play (Nehael, the Adversary, Orcus, Shvar Choryati, (upcoming) Yew, Pharamne's Urn, numerous powerful transvalent casters, etc.), how much bigger do you envision or anticipate the story getting?

Also, just out of curiosity, Nehael (DvR 6) is protecting Tramst from Shvar Choryati (DvR 8). Is he actually safe for the time being from SC? If celestials disagree over his safety, its probably not a given.

EDIT: One more question, with multiple parts, on a very unrelated note regarding a very old event in the story: Back in the simpler days (!) when Shomei sent two Glooms to assassinate Graz'zt, how did she summon them (known spell, custom (transvalent?) spell, or something else), and from where were they summoned? Do they have a special place in your cosmologies or did they come from somewhere known (though maybe obscure)?

Thanks,
Justin


----------



## grodog

Le bump!:  any new updates brewing, Sep?


----------



## Neurotic

*Bows*

I'm sooo subscribing to continuing this story.

Please resolve it to the world changing finish and give us an epilogue three centuries hence 

You have yet another fan.

Now I go for three weeks on vacation and will expect an update in the meantime 

Thank you


----------



## pogre

Back to page one.


----------



## Palskane

I've been looking for the entirety of the battle at Afqithan. Has that event been written in full, or has Sep decided to take a break from that particular battle?


----------



## Baron Opal

It has just been alluded to. Eadric lost his steed, Shomei was killed / claimed. That's what I remember from what has been mentioned. Kostechie may have been consumed by Mostin's Far Realms critter.


----------



## KainG

I believe this post is the most complete summary of the Battle of Afquithan. It's all Eadric's recollection of the event.


----------



## grodog

*bump*

Sep:  any chance for an update?  Please?


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*TREE*


[SKADDING]: What happened when the _Sela_ died?

[BREY]: Mind does not die.

[SKADDING]: But _Tramst_ died. The _kas_ was destroyed.

[BREY]: Nwm the Preceptor afforded him another.

[SKADDING]: But the _Sela_? At this juncture – what was its nature?

[BREY]: Why would it be other than it is? Your mind is too focused on doctrinal questions. Apprehend the Moment and eschew theology.

[SKADDING]: You evade the question.

[BREY]: And will continue to do so! You must be flexible in your understanding of hypostases; rigid dogma in this area – more than any other – is detrimental to the cultivation of _saizhan_.

[SKADDING]: Please, indulge me. Sineig suggests that the _ahmasaljan_ was the only component to traverse the _Hahio_. He said that a Flame of Oronthon was present; that it lingered, and he perceived it.

[BREY]: Perhaps such chose to reveal itself to him: how else could Sineig sense the imperceptible? The Sublime Essence. He posits a quincunx of natures in Tramst; others a quaternity. They can argue until the end of time and it will avail nothing. The Irrenite tendency to formulate mystery is apparent in this;  I feel duty bound to point out that certain dubious thaumaturgic practices also accompany his point of view.

[SKADDING]: I had, in fact, considered _Skohsldaur_.

[BREY]: I would advise against it.

[SKADDING]: My father has voiced a similar opinion. My argument is solid.

[BREY]: And what might that be?

[SKADDING]: I have been to Heaven; you have not. I have a perspective which is difficult to communicate.

[BREY] (Wrily): So spake the Nameless Fiend! This experience must surely carry weight. Still, I find the prospect of such tension disagreeable. Who will look to my bees if I choose such a demanding vehicle?

[SKADDING]: And devotion is for old men…

[BREY]: _Wise_ old men, Skadding. Both _wise_ and _old_.

[SKADDING]: You cling to life! I knew it!

[BREY]: Cling? Not I. To me, life is a dream both surreal and utterly poignant; I have faced certain death more times than I care to count, yet still I stand here. This also affords a certain perspective; one difficult to communicate…

[SKADDING]: _Saizho_.

[BREY]: No. This is mundane wisdom.

[SKADDING]: Is there such a thing?

[BREY]: All Wisdom is Mundane. _Saizha?_


**


They reached the crest of a hill, and Eadric found himself gazing into a deep ravine. It seemed utterly wild; a virgin corner of the mountain. An ancient yew dominated the chasm, by virtue of its presence rather than its stature. They began to descend towards it, and Eadric noticed celestials in its vicinity.

"It is profoundly sapient," Rintrah explained. "More so than any in the Host. And benign – for the most part. Many devas have been drawn to it. And some former Masters. It is the Yew-_ludja_; the tree in the courtyard of the Temple in Morne is one of its scions."

"Are there others in the Heavens?" 

"Yes and no. Yew is the only _ludja_ here – it was invoked at the Reversal. One of Oak's scions rises on the Blessed Plain; and a Beech also – these are still profound, although of less magnitude. Others are in other places: and not all are kind. All emanate from the great Tree-_ludja_ in Nizkur.

"They are rapidly awakening," Rintrah continued. "Tree in Nizkur seeks to generate a new _axis mundi_, so to speak. Nwm's portals between planes serve to mark channels for the roots of its scions. And Hlioth's efforts also. Certain magicks which have been invoked have carved paths more vigorously; transiting entities have left wakes which Tree has been quick to exploit. You might tell Nwm that his fears were unjustified: the celestial case was not asserted without cost."

"Then some kind of equilibrium is being established." The _Ahma_ slowed his steed to a halt. 

"Mind precedes, but its workings may be more subtle than you perceive in this case. And the motion of the Adversary also speeds the differentiation. Descend. I will wait here for you."

The _Ahma_ dismounted from _Narh_ and approached Yew quietly; an emotional state which seemed to come naturally, yet as though responding to some external demand. He walked a slow circuit around it. That it was cognizant of his thoughts and feelings – to a far greater extent than he himself was – Eadric had no doubt. The sheer weight of its consciousness was palpable.

He turned to observe Rintrah, but the great celestial was a blurred figure now receded from his mind. From a source deeper than Yew, Eadric knew, the Primordial Tree itself was generating a continuum around the _ludja_. A resonance which transformed that which was around it.

Devas moved aside to let him pass, whispering _Ahma_ into his thoughts. They had acquired a quality of indefinable measure, which had set them apart from others in the Host. _Taint_ was not the correct word, but a transformative effect of equal significance, and one to which he was sensitive. Were they now viridescent? An imprecise terminology bothered him; yet why systematize?

_Viridescent_, they whispered. Apparently, a point of doctrine had been made.

The boughs stretched up high above him; they seemed to bask in the Radiance pouring down from the Magnitudes. Silence, as the tree breathed Wisdom of impossible depth.

_If this is Heaven, then it pleases me_, Eadric thought.

He sat and prayed for the safe passage of the _Sela_.


**


The _reincarnation_ of Tramst by Nwm in Nizkur was a quiet event, untroubled by any fanfare or ceremony.

Nwm proceeded to recall the wizards, affording Daunton the Diviner a far younger body than the one which the wizard had previously enjoyed. Daunton's mood improved considerably with a more youthful and dashing aspect, and a general limberness. Two massive _reincarnations_, followed by dozens more; invoked by Mesikammi, Lai, the Uediians, Temple Adepts sympathetic to the Reconciliation. 

The roll of those who could not be recovered was long and depressing: Ninit and the boars; eight of Lai's twelve handmaidens; Temple grandees, penitents and scrollbearers; common soldiers too numerous to count. 

Afterwards, Nwm arranged a meeting between Nehael and Mostin. An encounter which the Preceptor dreaded.

*

Mostin breathed with conscious measure and attempted to remain focused.

Nwm had referred to this place as _Kilthei_ or _Kinthei_ or _Qinthei_ or some such: the air was pregnant with a power which Mostin had never before experienced; all seemed doused in an abundant, fertile energy. The walls which separated any number of worlds were gossamer-thin; Faerie and its primordial analogues; unnamed spirit dimensions, inhabited by monstrous animal-deities; the forgotten heavens of shamans who had been dead for a hundred generations. All were contained within the Green hollow. Each merely a step away.

A tree – the pivotal node through which Tree manifested, Mostin realized – stood above a small pond possessed of unusual clarity, upon the surface of which tiny motes of silver-green danced or floated. His own presence seemed to go unheeded. Surely not unnoticed. Dwarfed, in fact, beyond imagining. Yet it seemed merely a tree...

Nearby, Rimilin of the Skin sat cross-legged upon a flat stone, examining patterns within a leaf which the Tree had shed. He had been encysted or _subsumed_ in some way; his Will erased, or captured and redirected. Unexpectedly, Mostin experienced a upwelling of profound empathy for the Acolyte. He turned to Nehael; her power was veiled, but still perceivable.

"Divinity becomes you," Mostin doffed his hat with his pseudopod. "Will you be taking a more proactive stance in the war?"

Nwm, standing to one side, sighed. This would be just too irritating. Ortwine observed lazily.

Nehael smiled. "I assert my inscrutability. You are here because of the _Urn_, Mostin. I also notice that you have Graz'zt in your robe pocket. Were I a vengeful goddess…but alas, I have no use for him. The _Urn_…"

"Soneillon has it."

"Yes," Teppu nodded. "This much I have determined. And for that, the prior I must assume some responsibility. Jovol's foresight was imperfect. I believe he layed a variety of other contingencies according to other possible futures."

"What are you?" Mostin fixed him with a stare.

"I have no idea," Teppu confessed. "I'll remember when I die."

"He is an agent of the Aeon," Nehael said.

"That is a _theory_," Teppu observed. "I have no evidence to support it. I am certainly _Green_; the question remains as to whether I can be both."

Nehael shrugged. "As far as culpability goes, the principal offender stands before us. Why did you send her _Outside_, Mostin?"

"Your judgements do not concern me," Mostin said haughtily.

"Four times Fallen now. She has escaped. Had you considered that she might build an Infinity around her?"

"You are familiar with my theories?" The Alienist was pleasantly surprised.

"I speak in a language you understand," Nehael said evenly. "I regret that the facts of the matter are incommunicable."

Mostin twitched.

"Do not mistake the truth for deific condescension," Nehael anticipated him.

"Or foresight, for that matter," she added before he could speak. "I know you well, Mostin."

"You've made your point," Mostin grumbled. 

"The Viridity unfolds. The _ludjas_ bind worlds together, but where will the remaining scions sprout? Tree is silent in this; all watch with anticipation. You should not berate yourself for abandoning the race for Azzagrat; you acted in good faith."

"I blame only Tozinak's stupidity," Mostin waved his appendage dismissively. "And his inappropriate use of oological metaphor when attempting to communicate. Nehael. What of the Aeon?"

"It is beyond my scrutiny," Nehael said. "I can offer you no advice. But I would ask you to reconsider your original plan."

Mostin cocked his head.

"The _gates_ in Azzagrat, Mostin. You could still close them."

Mostin scowled. "Why? There is no longer any purpose."

"One single selfless act? _A Flame Precedes the Aeon_. What does it do, Mostin?"

"Ask your friend. He scribed it."

"My memory is poor," Teppu admitted. "You are better informed than I."

"It uncorks the _Urn_," Mostin explained. "In a manner of speaking. But the opportunity is passed. Did Jovol lay some kind of _geas_ on Tozinak?"

Teppu sighed. "It is possible. He may also have been manipulated by another agent. I suspect that frustration with the imperfect game of prescience led to my abandoning it; I would urge you to do the same."

"I think not," Mostin smiled.

Nehael closed her eyes and exhaled. 

Mostin condescended to give an inquiring look.

"Scions. An Oak and an Elm, north of Galda. Direct the Wyrish retreat towards them. And in response to your original question, yes."

"Reflexive is not pro-active."

"We have different methods," Nehael whispered. "Didn't you know? You may remain in Nizkur for now; I grant permission. Please refrain from disruptive activities."

"Permission?"

"Necessarily, when at war, a wise dictator invokes martial law," Nehael said drily.

"I also understand that you have seduced a clutch of Seraphim?"

Ortwine raised an eyebrow.

"News travels fast," Teppu sighed. "Or your sources are remarkably well-informed. And I have not even spoken with them. Tree has already dispatched them on various errands."

"The nature of which you are inclined to reveal?" The Alienist asked.

"If I knew what they were, I might."

Abruptly, the hairs on Ortwine's neck stood on end. Mostin's eyes bulged. A crescendo of magical energy which became almost deafening.

A pulse of tremendous power emanated from Tree. Dimension waxed sharp or retreated. A cascade of fortifying waves. Impregnability. Afterwards, silence. Somehow, the matrix possessed a pattern familiar to Mostin.

"What just happened?" Ortwine asked.

"NonGreen forms of interplanar travel have been discontinued," Teppu clapped.

"_What?_" Mostin's jaw dropped.

"Where?" Ortwine asked.

"Just this world," Nehael smiled. "Dreamers are unaffected."

"I do not _dream_," Mostin spoke the word as though it were an unsavory habit. "Is this a permanent imposition?"

"I would rather see it as a means to end other, temporary, impositions," Nwm grinned broadly.

Mostin flailed. "Well, you would. Your tree just _dimensionally locked_ the whole damn planet. And what about my tower? What am I going to do now?"

"I recommend _tree stride_," Nwm said earnestly.

Mostin glared at Nehael. "And closing the _gates_? Recovering the _Urn_? How do you suggest I accomplish this?"

"Nwm. Hlioth. Or you could petition Cherry directly. Be careful – Cherry is a tricky one. And my instinct is that this is a temporary measure, if that is any consolation."

"If temporary means 'one billion years' then no, not particularly," the Alienist glared. "And exempting dreamers leaves a lot of big holes."

"Dream will be monitored," Nehael smiled. 

The Seraphim, Mostin knew.

"A number of myriads have also joined them," Nehael caught the thought.

"The other scions?" Ortwine peered at her. "Are they all…sprouting? Do you know where they are?"

"Not all," Nehael shook her head. "Some will remain hidden." 

"Restricting traffic is wise," Ortwine nodded. "How do I get to Afqithan?"

"I believe previous portals will remain open," Nwm answered. "You should have asked me where they were earlier."

"Evidently," Ortwine raised an eyebrow.

"This is intolerable," Mostin spat. "I will find a way to circumvent this."

"No, Mostin, you will not," Nehael regarded him gravely. "For a little while, be patient. There are things specifically excluded or trapped here now against their will which dwarf you in significance. Perhaps it is better that you are restrained, or at least monitored."

"I?" He was incredulous.

"Mostin," she drew close. All notion of sophistry had vanished from her demeanour; she spoke into the core of his being. "Believe me when I say that I honour you and love you, Mostin, because such is my nature; but you must recognize that what you _are_ – how you _see_ and what you _do_ – these things are anathema to me. You possess a potential for horror which disturbs me.

"And this," Nehael smiled as a clump of moss and sod grew in her hand. "This is Mine, Mostin. All of it. You are a guest. Don't forget it."

"Currently, I am a prisoner," Mostin seethed.

"If you wish egress, petition one who can transport you; I will do it if you request. I will take you outside – but not Outside. You will need to negotiate at a Green concursion if you wish to return inside. Unless you wish to dream."

"Bah!" Mostin grunted. "And what is a 'concursion' supposed to be?"

"A node. Interface. Gate."

"And how might I recognize these?"

"The _scions_, Mostin," Nehael smiled wrily. "Or in some cases, the _ludjas_ themselves."

"I need to appeal to _trees_ to be allowed to go about my normal business? Many of which, by your own admission, 'will remain hidden?'"

"Essentially, yes. Or one of we five."

Mostin looked around. Nehael. Teppu. Hlioth. Nwm. Mesikammi.

Ah. _Those_ five.

"Where are the _ludjas_ themselves?" the Alienist demanded. "Assuming that you can be at least that forthcoming."

"Here in Nizkur: Oak, Elm and Ash. Others in the Beatitudes, Throile, Azzagrat. On Avernus; in Faerie. In Mulhuk. In the Hidden Realm. Five have yet to manifest themselves…"

"Hidden Realm?"

"I can show you," Mesikammi offered.

"_Your_ reality?" Mostin groaned. "You're as mad as I am. And what is this talk of Trees in Hell?"

"Some equilibria must be forced," Nehael smiled.


**


They gathered at Mostin's manse in the Forest of Nizkur; the building had acquired an eccentric turret of modest proportions, oddly at ease with the prevailing aesthetic and comfortable in the sylvan surroundings. The _Infernal Tower_'s now-inaccessible extradimensional interior – like that of much of the manse itself – meant that Mostin had a much reduced living space. Nwm, and a number of goddesses, saints and wizards crowded around the Alienist's kitchen table.

Mostin had considered the significance of the _Inertia of the Spheres_ – as he had scathingly termed Tree's reordering of planar reality – and determined that it was, in fact, utterly beyond his ability to bypass. He sighed, handing Nwm a piece of paper with many numbers and symbols scrawled upon it. It meant nothing to the Preceptor, whose magic was instinctive; the Alienist explained with forced patience.

"Half of the flamines have been consumed: tasty morsels, I'm sure. Many reservoirs are drained. The _Pall of Dhatri_ is out of reach, and will likely remain so in any case. You can banish the Eater of Light; if you do, then you can say good-bye to those whom it ate. If you were to destroy it, they would be liberated: this would be preferable. _Slay_ it. It'll hurt, but you've got enough juice at a stretch. Let me configure the spell, as I am otherwise now at a loose end." More than a hint of bitterness was present in Mostin's voice.

Nwm nodded.

Ortwine smiled coolly, and turned to Nwm. "I have a question. Did you really need to kill the _Sela_, or were you just making a point?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"I'm glad that you're carefully considering the ramifications of your actions," Mostin said acidly. "It's not like you've caused any problems so far."

"I approve of Tree's interdiction," Tahl spoke wearily. "The progress of _Shvar Choryati_ has been slowed drastically. All enemy movements must also now occur conventionally."

Mulissu nodded. "I no longer need to invest more than half of my energy simply to maintain Fumaril's defense. We are in a better position than we were twelve hours ago." 

"And elementals are considered sufficiently 'Green' to pass muster," Mostin complained.

"And I am tired of your incessant whining," Mulissu sighed. "Do you have nothing useful to contribute?"

"No," Mostin replied, staring at Nwm. "But I have a good many questions. What is Gihaahia's role in this? Why did you wake up with her looming over you?"

"I don't know that she has one," Nwm answered. "Her mandate is … not incompatible … with the exclusion. Perhaps Nehael has spoken with her."

"The succubus in her is exerting its charms," Ortwine said approvingly. "You can't keep a good demon down. She'll snare them all."

"Not all." 

Ortwine shrugged. "Tree is acquiring an exciting variety of thralls. I believe I chose the right side."

"I have no doubt that you'll be on the _winning_ side," Nwm remarked drily. "As to information which I possess to which you are not privy – yes, in a manner of speaking. Insofar as that nothing which has happened _surprises_ me, although I wouldn't exactly say I've _anticipated_ anything, either."

Tahl stood abruptly. "The _Ahma_ has returned. He is at Galda, ordering the defense.

"Splendid. Assemble the minions," Ortwine waved her hand.

"And none of the other _Great Wyrish Wizards_ have anything to contribute?" Mostin inquired.

"Not especially," Daunton said vaguely. "Do you think I should keep the beard?"

"Your hospitality is diminished," Waide grumbled. "Where are your fruit teas gone? And those little cakes? Your _simulacrum_ is less attentive to replenishing your pantry than Orolde; she spends the day reclining, reading your insane scrawl."

Mostin had to agree. "I need a new apprentice."

"I have gnomes," Ortwine suggested. 

Mostin's head bobbed. Gnomes were agreeable enough.


**

**


Shomei the Infernal exited the trance and pondered. It was as Ugales had described: two zones within Qematiel's range, in close proximity to one another, were inscrutable. None save the Adversary might have screened areas of such size from her spell, yet Shomei doubted it was his doing. She determined to investigate the first node: she suspected it was a Power, the presence of which could only be inferred obliquely.

Qematiel – an atavistic hellfire wyrm – abode within the realm of Mahazael Amaimon, King of the Fourth Quarter. An infernal monarch whose exact mandate – other than the reprobation of delinquent devils and distinguished wicked mortals – was hidden to all save the Nameless Fiend, Amaimon was unguessably powerful. He removed himself from Hell's routine workings altogether, and concerned himself with philosophical struggles on a more rarefied level.

Shomei herself had enjoyed the arch-fiend's hospitality for a brief while, after her abduction by the _Akesoli_ in Afqithan. The outcasts and detritus of a hundred unnamed hells and abysms found their way to his demesnes, and were tolerated or punished for unknown reasons; Wyre's Enforcer had made her abode nearby, until she had been plucked to serve as the Claviger's slave. 

Shomei armed herself with magic and opened a _gate_; she passed through into a blasted defile. Lightning wracked the dark skies. Descending carefully, she crossed poisonous rills and found herself in a wide, flat-bottomed canyon. A great thicket – an untended hazel coppice of willful aspect – filled much of it. It murmured power to her; Shomei paused suspiciously, unsure if it was a deific illusion or an empty lure set as some test.

Without warning, fire overhwelmed her and a great claw pushed her a hundred yards through the air, pinning her to the wall of the ravine. A vast, horned head reared before her; ancient draconic eyes – full of wisdom and malice – regarded her briefly, absorbing a thousand details in a glance. They rested on the sigils which the Infernalist bore upon her forehead.

"An Exempt." Qematiel snorted. "I am still inclined to break your body; the Tree recognizes you. It would have otherwise."

Shomei managed to scowl even as she writhed in pain. A _ludja_? Here? By whose permission?

_Tree needs no permissions,_ Hazel whispered into her mind.

But which was the other? The second un-scryable area?

A brief, unendurable pain as barbs seemed to sink into Shomei's mind: evidently the other _ludja_ was also fully aware of her thoughts. There was the looming threat of an execration so powerful that it would extinguish her.

_Holly,_ she knew. She breathed deeply, mustered her will, and stared straight into Qematiel's eyes.

"What passes here?" Shomei the Infernal asked. The question was possessed of terrific power.

Qematiel regarded her quizzically; none before had ever been audacious enough to attempt to _dominate_ her. It was a fair effort.

"You amuse me. I am not sure. But my role in it – after an eternity of preparation – is not the one I had anticipated."

"And the _I_?"

"It has migrated," the Wyrm replied. "As will I. Hell is receding."


**


In a dark abysm, Soneillon reflected on her circumstances. Events had not transpired as she might have preferred.

Atop her palace – a vast ziggurat which rose a mile into the skies above dense jungle – a tree had sprouted in a garden, sinking roots through marble and adamant, and fruiting in an instant: an event which coincided exactly with the return of the demoness – bearing _Pharamne's Urn_ – from the wreck of Zelatar. It bore huge, ripe cherries which exuded an irresisitible odor. 

The demoness had warded herself in a heartbeat and retreated to a remote fastness, even as the tree had reached out to her mind and urged her to descend. She felt its consciousness pursue her, and she transported herself again. And again. She could not elude it.

Soneillon cursed, fled deep into a chthonic dream - a delirium of unbeing - and brooded.


**


----------



## Gulla

Weee! Thanks!


----------



## pnakotic

Is it just me or is Mostin getting the short end of the stick a lot lately? 
New restrictions, new reprimands and his plans failing on him. 
Might be his low Alien creepiness/charisma score/related skills playing a part on the first two of course. 
Also awesome update yet again, Sep!


----------



## tleilaxu

great update sep! very interesting developments. thanks again, it always makes my day when you post an update.


----------



## Nifft

Sepulchrave II said:


> "It has migrated," the Wyrm replied. "As will I. Hell is receding."



 Woah.

Thanks, -- N


----------



## grodog

It sounds like things may be drawing to a close, as great reconciliation beings to loom on the horizon?!??  

Although perhaps not with Soneillon, hmmm?


----------



## Nightbreeze

Wh-what?
What are those trees doing?

A funny side note: I had an npc put up a Quiescence of the Spheres during a massive battle in my campaign. My players freaked out.


----------



## Quartz

I'm sorry, but I'm getting lost in the metaphysics. It really no longer makes sense.


----------



## Roman

Quartz said:


> I'm sorry, but I'm getting lost in the metaphysics. It really no longer makes sense.




For me the metaphysics are part of the attraction to the story.


----------



## Siuis

*Jeezum Crowe!*

Oh, it makes sense... But fitting it all in your head kind of hurts...

There are what, three different, competing paradigms at work that we get to see? The Green, Oronthon, and Mostin's alien perceptions? Not really counting the bad guys, since they get to be conveniently fit into one of the other paradigms, by virtue of being explained by the PCs themselves...

It has become a feat of mental agility, holding several mutually-exclusive universe-views to all be not only true, but accepting and inclusive of the others, despite each view meaning the others are wrong. Which gives some strange fractal pattern of three correct world-views, six incorrect ones, and a plethora of things I can only infer based off of an isufficient knowledge base.


And here the smartest thing I've seen in a game personally was "troll? Fireball!"


----------



## Samnell

Siuis said:


> There are what, three different, competing paradigms at work that we get to see? The Green, Oronthon, and Mostin's alien perceptions? Not really counting the bad guys, since they get to be conveniently fit into one of the other paradigms, by virtue of being explained by the PCs themselves...




I don't think Mostin's paradigm has been much addressed in the SH, except that it was similar to Shomei's. Shomei was all about challenging and overcoming extraplanar forces as a sort of perpetual transcendence. Mostin's about that too, but apparently he succeeded where Shomei ended up ensnared by Asmodeus. (I recall this being connected to Tramst besting her at some very short exchange. But given her reaction to that, maybe she hopped paradigms and started being a full-out infernalist then. I know I would be sorely tempted if all I got for answers were the sorts of things Tramst offered, but then I'm profoundly anti-mystical.)


----------



## EroGaki

Siuis said:


> Oh, it makes sense... But fitting it all in your head kind of hurts...
> 
> There are what, three different, competing paradigms at work that we get to see? The Green, Oronthon, and Mostin's alien perceptions? Not really counting the bad guys, since they get to be conveniently fit into one of the other paradigms, by virtue of being explained by the PCs themselves...
> 
> It has become a feat of mental agility, holding several mutually-exclusive universe-views to all be not only true, but accepting and inclusive of the others, despite each view meaning the others are wrong. Which gives some strange fractal pattern of three correct world-views, six incorrect ones, and a plethora of things I can only infer based off of an isufficient knowledge base.
> 
> 
> And here the smartest thing I've seen in a game personally was "troll? Fireball!"





As far as realities/truths interacting with each other, I can think of Oronthon,The Green, Outside (Far Realm), The Adversary Paradigm, Nothingness (Soneilon and her ilk), and the Cult of Chesne. Most these seem to be linked to each other in some direct fashion; Oronthon and the Adversary, obviously. But other are linked only by mind-boggling paradox (Soneilon being sent Outside by Mostin and transforming into some weird Pseudo-cthontic).


----------



## Old Gumphrey

Siuis said:


> And here the smartest thing I've seen in a game personally was "troll? Fireball!"




I know, right?


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## Nightbreeze

le bump.


----------



## Siuis

Samnell said:


> I don't think Mostin's paradigm has been much addressed in the SH, except that it was similar to Shomei's. Shomei was all about challenging and overcoming extraplanar forces as a sort of perpetual transcendence. Mostin's about that too, but apparently he succeeded where Shomei ended up ensnared by Asmodeus. (I recall this being connected to Tramst besting her at some very short exchange. But given her reaction to that, maybe she hopped paradigms and started being a full-out infernalist then. I know I would be sorely tempted if all I got for answers were the sorts of things Tramst offered, but then I'm profoundly anti-mystical.




I think it is just that Mostin's truth is much simpler than everyone elses; His proofs, however, are absurdly complicated. I transcend because there is no reason not to, that I get. But transcendence being psuedopods, time as part some wading pool of existence, blasting people into oblivion via mathematical formulae and even the validity of psuedonatural analogues are all a bit beyond me.

I have to wonder now, though; Did Mostin go crazy, then alienist, or alienist, then crazy? The whole bird-fear thing makes me wonder...


----------



## grodog

Nightbreeze said:


> le bump.




Where's Horatio? 

BUMP.


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## EroGaki

Siuis said:


> I think it is just that Mostin's truth is much simpler than everyone elses; His proofs, however, are absurdly complicated. I transcend because there is no reason not to, that I get. But transcendence being psuedopods, time as part some wading pool of existence, blasting people into oblivion via mathematical formulae and even the validity of psuedonatural analogues are all a bit beyond me.
> 
> I have to wonder now, though; Did Mostin go crazy, then alienist, or alienist, then crazy? The whole bird-fear thing makes me wonder...




Trying to figure out the order in which Mostin went insane is, well, insane; to me, it is like the chicken and egg conundrum. 

As for the bird phobia, remember: phobias are irrational fears. Even he admits that it doesn't make much sense. I have a similar problem with bees.


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## Noir

The fact that Mostin has not yet transcended a simple anxiety disorder is beyond me though. Is he too proud for cognitive behaviour therapy?


----------



## Tal Rasha

Sepulchrave II said:


> *TREE*
> The demoness had warded herself in a heartbeat and retreated to a remote fastness, even as the tree had reached out to her mind and urged her to descend. She felt its consciousness pursue her, and she transported herself again. And again. She could not elude it.
> 
> Soneillon cursed, fled deep into a chthonic dream - a delirium of unbeing - and brooded.




Marvellous post, as always. This last part is especially stimulating. Tree seems to be concerned about the Aeon.

Oh, and the philosophical introduction to the post, the debate between Skadding and Brey, is complex and difficult to grok. It's one of the things I love most about this SH.



			
				Noir said:
			
		

> The fact that Mostin has not yet transcended a simple anxiety disorder is beyond me though. Is he too proud for cognitive behaviour therapy?



He's probably too busy with the whole `calamitous war against an army of immortals' thing.


----------



## Gulla

Are you suggesting that a paranoid mage with extreme high thoughts of his own abilities and worth should hire a lesser being of doubtable intellect to modify his mind? Doesn't sound likely to me


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## the Jester

Noir said:


> The fact that Mostin has not yet transcended a simple anxiety disorder is beyond me though. Is he too proud for cognitive behaviour therapy?




It's not a simple anxiety disorder, it's a class feature.


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## grodog

Le bump!


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## rantipole

So many updates since I last logged in, I'm the proverbial kid in a candy store! Excellent writing, as always. Thanks Sep! 

Cheers,
rant


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## grodog

Pre-Halloween BUMP


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*"Are We Ready?"*


**


Two miles to the north of Galda, the Sun was rising as squadrons of Templars hurried about their business. Mostin – floating inches above the ground - bent his thought northwest whilst eyeing the nearby Nwm suspiciously. The Preceptor stood before him, ankle-deep in mud and horsedung, and apparently enjoying the experience. A night of heavy rainfall and twenty thousand cavalry had turned the fields into a morass.

An hour before, Mostin – closeted within a _secure shelter_ – had emerged from a reverie of motes with too many contradictors to even begin to make sense of. It was as though the universe – several universes, in fact – were being turned on their heads. And something had seemed to reach _toward_ him through the _Web_. As if its ineffable divination had been somehow perceived. Impossible. He glanced around.

The Temple forces – swollen by more of the Illuminated of Morne, as well as Foide's skeptical vassals and the northern aristocracy of Ialde and Dramore – had entrenched at the southern end of the hills of Scir Cellod. In an ancient wood in a nearby valley, two scions – an Oak and an Elm – generated a power which encompassed the entire camp and a wide area beyond, excluding the enemy. The site was outside of Gihaahia's remit, but overlooked the Hynt Coched, the main artery which connected southern Wyre with the Thalassine cities. 

Nwm had transported refugees who had fled to Nizkur or who had been _reincarnated_ within its bounds; another ritual had opened a Green highway, speeding thousands – including the Wyrish Magi and many Temple grandees – straight into the midst of Eadric's already swollen camp. Mostin had found the ego dissociation which accompanied the trip unsettling.

Galda – a town of some eighteen hundred which lay beneath the aegis of the scions – was now visible in the dawn, and its campaniles, rooftops and walls thronged with armed sentries. Picquets and outriders were spread in a wide arc to the limit of the Trees' protection and about the town. 

Beyond was subject to the depredations of two demonic magnates – Orcus and Pazuzu – and those amongst the remaining fiendish population which they had gathered about them. Both were operating without reference to their respective invokers, Prahar and Yeshe; they skirmished continually with both each other and with archons and devas under the command of two more archfiends, Irel and Shokad: episeme princes who had recently adopted a more Adversarial view. In the absence of any extradimensional movement, _wind walking_ had become the preferred means of travel amongst all; despite their inferior numbers, in this the celestials possessed a distinct advantage.

Cirone, another quaint walled settlement some twenty miles further south, had been utterly consumed by _Shvar Choryati_, and it was near its wreck that Prahar had elected to establish his camp: a hemisphere of darkness which defied the attempts of both Mostin and Daunton to penetrate with their sight. In a separate bubble – warded with even more potent defenses – Rishih and Naatha had raised a magical beachhead with a large contingent of _Anantam_ magi, supported by compactees and bodyguards, the armored Giants of Danhaan. Against the backdrop of both, loomed the unpierceable wall of night which was the _Pall of Dhatri_: somewhere within _that_ was the unguessably vast main Cheshnite force. 

_Shvar Choryati_ had eaten its way approximately north, on an eccentric path which made frequent detours to annihilate farming communities. It would reach Galda in three days and the Wyrish border in five, assuming a stimulus of light didn't draw it directly towards the Temple encampment. How it would interact with the scions would hopefully not be tested: Nwm planned to eliminate it before it advanced so far. It persisted on the edge of his perception like a cancer which infected the World.

*

Mostin scowled. "Yet another power is rising in Nizkur. What do you know of it?"

Nwm shook his head. "Nothing."

"A fey; most ancient." The Alienist studied his face minutely; Mostin's paranoia was becoming more acute and more evident by the hour. He was beginning to remind Nwm of a caged animal.

"_Nothing_," Nwm reiterated. "But the Green is moving in torrents everywhere, so I can't say I'm surprised."

"Go on," Ortwine turned her head. "Fey rivals hold an interest for me."

"You flatter yourself," Mostin sniffed. "You pose as much threat as a gnat to one such as this."

"I prefer the gadfly metaphor. And no sidhe stands so far above me."

"I mentioned nothing of sidhe," Mostin sighed. "You are such a parochial queen."

"Currently, my parish is rather larger than yours," Ortwine smiled. "Speak more of this fey: do not let my witty quips distract you." 

"That you are both so ignorant of events which reference your paradigm is a source of continual amazement to me," the Alienist grumbled. "This is no woodland sprite. It is rather…_wild_, in the instinctual, primal sense. The fact that it is _present_ suggests massive change. It is masculine. It does not rise from the Tree-matrix, although its catenary is parallel."

"That sounds fine," Nwm nodded, distracted. Hlioth and Mulissu were becoming impatient. Mesikammi had already departed. "Are we ready?"

*

All but one of the demons – a babau lurking behind a ruined pillar – fled as the five entities manifested amid a green surge. Perhaps deities recently awakened from some hibernation, the power of their arrival caused the tiles in the courtyard to crack with a sudden growth of moss and lichen. 

One, covered in a hundred rolling eyes, spied the babau and _dominated_ it quickly. 

Another, ragged and scarred, gestured toward a pomegranate tree which had long since been reduced to a stump. It immediately regrew its limbs and sprouted tender green leaves.

The third – an opaque, sylph-like creature who floated above the ground – swore profusely as she looked at the wreck of her former home. A number of obscene execrations were directed toward the eye-covered entity.

A fourth – apparently a female human of middling years – waited with a sour face. After a pause, during which the others collected their thoughts, she struck her staff upon the flags with a resounding _crack_. A brief but massive flurry of magical energy followed. 

The last – a goddess with a curved sword – stared at the the artificial heaven above her, watching it shift and writhe like a thing alive. A wave radiated visibly out and away from the group, reordering the matrix of the real into a new form. Crumbled masonry flew back into place, and debris of all kinds vanished.

Mulissu's demiplane, restored to a pristine state, rested peacefully again beneath its blue vault.

"Do you want the demon?" Mostin asked.

Mulissu struck it with a spell, petrifying it. 

"I'll take the statue," she said.

Nwm glanced around. "Again. Are we ready?"

Grumbles of assent.

Nwm evoked a spell, causing four more trees – an almond, an olive, a cypress and a deodar – to spring up within the courtyard. Within the trunk of each – and the pomegranate also – was a small wooden door, perhaps five feet high and two wide.

"Which is which?" Ortwine inquired.

Nwm sighed. "The olive leads to one in the palace at Fumaril; the almond to the elm at _Mostin's cramped retreat_; the pomegranate to a banyan in the garden of the Academy outside of Morne; the deodar to one similar near Deorham; the cypress to a tree near the entrance to the Claviger's cave. Mesikammi is accomplishing _spirit bindings_ with genii at the terminal locations, to prevent passage for those who are not permitted. Here, I have chosen species most familiar to Mulissu, based on her childhood experience."

"And it is appreciated," the savant nodded. "Although I find it rather shady, and may need to adjust the illumination."

"And from here Mostin can reach outside of your miniverse?" Ortwine asked.

The Alienist laughed bitterly. "No. Hlioth annexed the plane. This is now a Green node." 

"Then why else are we here?"

Mostin scowled, and gestured with his appendage toward Mulissu.

The savant smiled savagely. "I've come for my spellbooks." 



**


"It is as wicked as I, or I'm no judge of character. Still, I like this not one jot." 

Standing on a high balcony, Yeshe the Binder regarded Temenun carefully. The Tiger, in turn, was gazing down at a blackthorn which had sprung overnight to full height, next to a likeness of the disgraced _Ugra_, Angula.

"If this is Nwm's doing," Yeshe continued, "then it appears we have underestimated him."

Temenun remained sanguine. The Blackthorn, impenetrable to divination, was silent.

"What else?" The Tiger asked.

"Its parent tree has…annexed a large swathe of what was _Angula's_ realm in the forty-fifth abysm. Gu-_Analas_ which have entered its presidio have not exited. Planar breaches and _reality maelstroms_ still rage around it, but it has established a quiescence in its immediate vicinity. Deeper, the Great _Bhitis_ are assembling at the Veils. What is your intuition?"

Temenun smiled and bared his fangs. "If Carasch avoids the streets of Azzagrat – or what is left of it – for fear of a Tree, then the fact that we are not all dead is cause for celebration."

"This thing is so potent?"

"It is. But it deals in generalities; it is not concerned with the specifics of our actions. We're playing by its rules. For the time being."

Yeshe was grim. "We are outmaneuvered. My dreams are full of _avalam jvalats_*. Still, Dream is our best recourse. The weak link."

"I will give it some thought," Temenun purred. "In the meantime, we should abandon the compound. Mobilize all reserves. Relocate to Thond."

"Are you mad?"

"I foresee."

"I will take Fumaril first," Yeshe spoke steadily. "I won't have it sitting on my flank."

"Then be swift!" Temenun's eyes narrowed. "I anticipate their counterattack will be furious, and soon. First, they must deal with _Shvar Choryati_. That will require much of their strength."

"It will be an easy test." 

"We shall see. I have yet to invoke the ward."

"There is a good deal which you keep hidden," Yeshe observed. "Now is not the time to remain jealous of your prescience."

The Tiger said nothing. Temenun was of Utter Shûth: twenty thousand years he could recollect. To him, the ascendancy of the Sun was but a recent phenomenon; he had witnessed far stranger and more ancient things. Ebony had been an ally for a while, long before, during the Ice in the North.

_The Trees of the South held a greater power,_ he recalled. Or perhaps age and distance clouded his memory. All of Shûth had been jungle then; rich and verdant, and malign as Throile.

Yeshe turned her head, and a discordant clash of gongs sounded from deep within the Temple, signalling that Idyam, the demilich, was finally deigning to take counsel. 

As if in response, Anumid's voice echoed in the minds of every immortal.

_The Tree is no threat: I have seen beyond the Veils. In her mercy Cheshne spares the interlopers on her threshold, but she exacts a price: one will return; one other will join her. A Great One. Kaala-anala demands that you raise her pavillion. Henceforth, the Fires of Death will abide in the Temple. Visuit will attend her. Jahi and Yeshe may remain. The rest of you will continue your removal to Thond: you will pay homage._

"Indeed?" Temenun spoke softly, but those a hundred miles distant still heard him. 

_In this I am the Mouthpiece of Cheshne. I may not be gainsayed._

"Of course," the Tiger purred.


**


Eadric drew a heavy fur across the opening to his tent and turned to sit on a crude stool. An oil-lamp dimly lit the space: a ten-foot circle with spartan furnishings. There was no pallet; although he found the experience refreshing on occasion, the _Ahma_ did not require sleep. Only privacy.

In his left hand, he held a sphere of adamant, upon the surface of which color might occasionally move; in his right, _Lukarn_, its light currently subdued.

He tapped the former with the latter, eliciting brief flashes of total illumination.

_Show Yourself_, the _Ahma_ commanded.

The face of Prince Graz'zt appeared.

Eadric resisted the urge to smash the globe with his weapon and cut down the demon as he materialized. Instead, he breathed and slowly mastered himself.

"Times change. This will be our one and only conversation, _Angula_; or rather, you will remain silent and simply listen, as dialogue holds no interest for me: if you attempt to speak, I will annihilate you. That which you were is no more; you have exhausted your possibilities. You are no longer _relevant_.

"Now, I have a quandary; one you can probably appreciate. As the _Ahma_, I have pronounced death upon you: this judgment is infallible. Yet, at present, you persist; due in no small part to my being distracted by other, more pressing concerns. As you are also currently the property of Mostin the Metagnostic, it might be considered an act of legal trespass were I to smite you as you so richly deserve. 

"Still, I am not inclined to commute this sentence, but merely suspend it on the basis of my friendship with the wizard and the fact that he recently saved my life again. Ironically, there are few others I would entrust you to: I am secure in the knowledge that Mostin can always out-think you, and that he cannot use you for anything that he couldn't find another way of doing anyway. This decision is pragmatic.

"This is your predicament: until such time as Mostin grows weary of your novelty and dispossess himself of you, your continued existence is relatively assured; at that point, your future becomes more uncertain. I will not exchange good Temple money to procure you, but moral persuasion might be brought to bear upon any subsequent owner to render you into the custody of the righteous. Assuming Mostin himself experiences no such urges. Here, then, are my words to you:

"First, as your moral instructor: use your remaining time to reflect on the eternity of suffering you have caused, and seek to experience one single iota of remorse: a task I deem at the very limit of your ability to achieve. I remind you of this out of duty, more than from any expectation that you will actually follow my advice. 

"Second, as your judge and executioner: even were I persuaded of your contrition and moved to mercy, Prince Tagur reminds me that you are still eligible for the death penalty under _Wyrish_ law, which makes no exception for your demonic status. I would, of course, enforce the decision of any secular court in this matter. This knowledge will make your moral quest more achievable as possible notions of reward or release will not distract you from your purpose.

"Third, as one injured personally: my forgiveness, or lack thereof, is inconsequential. I am one of countless wronged, and to forgive is not my function – I am the _Ahma_. Nonetheless, I will cite my father's murder, the assassination of Cynric of Morne, and the abduction and torture of Nehael as those crimes which wounded me most grievously. If that knowledge stirs some measure of satisfaction in you, I refer you back to my first article of advice.

"If you have words, you may now speak. Please be concise in your delivery: I have many matters to attend to."

From his prison, the demon Graz'zt stared impassively at Eadric.



**


From a vantage point where Dream and Void and Madness met, a place where apparitions strove to manifest, and tendrils of unknown purpose writhed in the dreams of chthonic deities, the demoness Soneillon watched, and waited. Few immortal psychoses could reach so deep.

Black fire had kindled at the Veils of Oblivion, ascending in liquid sheets which incinerated all vestige of Being to reveal a vast, glorious emptiness. An ocean of nothingness which promised a final end to all suffering.

After what may have been eternities, on its margin a terrible shape began to form. In revulsion, it twisted at its own substance: a forced reification, effluxed by Unbeing itself, or its shadow to some unknown degree. Flame and death surrounded it. It demanded obedience.

The demoness abased herself. 

With a passing thought, Kaalaanala – the Primordial Fear of Destruction – annihilated Soneillon in an agony of unguessable magnitude; moments later, the demoness arose again from the Void. The passage had left her sated and subdued. Soneillon swayed drowsily; she was permitted to enjoy the sensation only briefly.

A thought which was a command was turned toward her. Soneillon hurried to obey: locate the goddess Visuit in Dream and bring her to Azzagrat.


**


Nehael stood beside the Tree, feeling the texture of its bark with her fingertips. Nearby, Rimilin of the Skin slept with his face pressed to the moss. The goddess looked up to Teppu, who sat in the Tree's lower branches.

The sprite grinned. "A great _Bhiti_ is coming. Do Uedii and Cheshne send ambassadors or exchange hostages?"

"Is there a distinction?" Nehael asked. "Some equilibria must be bought dearly. She will remain in the Temple in Jashat. Her actions are circumscribed."

"Within which bounds?" Teppu inquired archly.

Nehael sighed. "She cannot leave the Temple. She may act to the limit of her natural senses."

"With impunity?"

"With impunity."

"Then Jashat cannot be assailed."

"Realistically? No. At least, not at present."

"You might want to inform Eadric of this tidbit."

"The _Ahma_ has achieved his objective to a large extent thus far: _keep Wyre safe_. This is his principal charge. He will make no ill-informed assaults beneath the _Pall of Dhatri_."

"And the Wild God?"

"Has yet to show himself."

"Does he have a name?"

"_Hummaz._"

"I like it. Did you choose it?"

"No. He did."

"Can you placate him, should his mood become violent?"

"I doubt it," Nehael smiled grimly.


**


Nwm groaned wearily, and looked around him. Sixty spellcasters, including the wizards. Waiting.

Mostin had called proceedings to a halt. That odd cluster of pinkish-brown motes he had previously observed had suddenly made sense.

"You'll have to try something different," Mostin said. "Temenun has warded _Shvar Choryati_"

"All other divinations run to the contrary," Nwm sighed. "Why must you always be so special?"

[Mostin]: Because Temenun is considerably more subtle than the Temple oracles. Fortunately, I am subtler still. You cannot stage a direct magical attack of any kind.

"Ngarh!" Nwm snarled. "Find me a meteoroid. Not too big."

"Not so big," Mesikammi nodded sagely. "They go very fast."

The Alienist scowled and concentrated. Ten minutes elapsed.

[Mostin]: Here's one.

Nwm exhaled. "Alright. Are we ready?"

Mostin had expected more preparation from Nwm; at least an _idea_. Vectors. Something. There was a huge surge of magical power and a sense that his reservoir might be sucked dry, accompanied by another dissociation which Mostin found disturbingly euphoric. A backlash of green lightning coursed over all present, arcing between them and burning them. 

There was bright flash on the horizon. Silence. Even those who were otherwise insensitive to such things felt a breath of release as millions of souls were liberated: all of those whom the Eater of Life had consumed in its unguessably long history.

Around a minute passed before the noise of the impact struck them: a growl like distant thunder. A breeze began to stir, and quickly stiffened.

"Very impressive," Mostin conceded.** "That almost counts as deicide."

Nwm groaned, and shook his head. 

Even as he had erased _Shvar Choryati_, the very source of that shadow – or so it seemed to the Preceptor – had announced its arrival within the Interwoven Green with an expurgative necromancy: a spell which slew everything which remained alive within two leagues of Jashat which was not sworn in body and soul to the Dark Goddess. 

Kaalaanala, the Fire of Death, abode in the Temple of Cheshne.








*"Those which glow abominably," a term for powerful celestials. 
**Epic conjuration/400d20 bludgeoning damage! Yay!


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## Roman

Thank you Sepulchrave! Whenever this epic story is updated, it always brightens my day!


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## carborundum

Wow! Spectacular!

Thanks Sepulchrave - that was as awe-inspiring as I could have hoped for


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## tleilaxu

huzzah, was just logging on to beg for an update!


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## Nifft

Nice update.

Thanks, -- N


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## def name(self):

I've been following this for a few years now: I'll add my voice to the choir praising its awesomeness. Absolutely amazing on so many levels.

The fact that the game still holds together _with mechanics_ at this uber-epic level is a testament to Sepulchrave's DM-ing-fu.

Thanks!


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## Roman

So, _Hummaz_ wouldn't, by any chance, formerly have be known as the Adversary?  

On another note, this Uedi/Cheschne exchange seems ominous, depending on how one-sided it is: "one return; one stays" hopefully applies to Cheschne's servitors too, otherwise the viridescence will cosmologically lose out on a massive scale in the long-term, in spite of its current march of power.


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## Justin

I think _Hummaz_ refers to the fey of which Mostin spoke early in the update, as he specifically uses the word _wild_, and that makes more sense to me since the question is about Nehael's interaction with it and ability to placate it. Also, Nehael says he hasn't shown himself yet, while she has already met the Adversary.


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## The Forsaken One

Ahhh this provided some relief during my painful hours of studies of dutch corporate law.


Cheers sep! Always good to see mostin taken down a notch haha.


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## Noir

great update!


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## grodog

Great stuff, thanks Sep!


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## tleilaxu

Justin said:


> I think _Hummaz_ refers to the fey of which Mostin spoke early in the update, as he specifically uses the word _wild_, and that makes more sense to me since the question is about Nehael's interaction with it and ability to placate it. Also, Nehael says he hasn't shown himself yet, while she has already met the Adversary.




i think it may be the adversary 'rebranding' himself in the new schema. not sure though. 

oh sep, your writing is like a beam of light through the clouds of grad school readings i am showered with. is it selfish to always want more? i know you have your own life... i've been following this story for, what, 8 years now? every update is a gift. thanks.


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## Knightfall

Very interesting update.

Nwm is a scary man/god.


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## Baron Opal

Sepulchrave II said:


> **Epic conjuration/400d20 bludgeoning damage! Yay!



And I'm sure they giggled like schoolgirls when they got to roll damage.


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## Salthorae

tleilaxu said:


> i think it may be the adversary 'rebranding' himself in the new schema. not sure though.




That's what I was thinking too, but from Mostin's descriptions it would seem to be some other "Tree" type entity... ancient, and GREEN, yet unknown to most anyone in Wyre or the Prime.


----------



## Siuis

**low whistle**

wow, that is quite the impact, there. It reminds me of an imternet image, showing a meteor and some poor, offended planet entitled "I would hit it like the fist of an angry god". I find this fitting.

I'm also rather proud of Nwm. Thanks to Sep, I've found the simplest spell effects to be the easiest to counter with. Who needs massive necromantic forces, when you can SMASH at epic velocity? I remember figuiring out the rules for maximum falling damage from an object and tweaking them - and getting d6 damage expressed in scientific notation when I was done. I have since stopped counting wizardly might via d6s.

I also severly doubt the Adversary is going to do ANYTHING remotely like switching sides. While corrupting others into thinking differently of him is his gimmick, he is absolutely 100% against actually changing, because that would be admitting he was wrong at some point. If the Adversary were willing to do that, why wouldn't he just reconcile with Oronthon and get it over with. No, at heart, the Adversart is the same as those juvenile players you get who go online to munchkin up some strange power for their third level character; They know they should just listen to the DM when he says it won't fly, but dammit! Their ego won't cave until the sun implodes. That the DM of wyre (by which I mean Oronthon, not Sep, oddly enough) puts up with such a jerk player these thousands of metaphorical years is astounding. Luckily, the rest of the party is ignoring him and moving on (Green, the actual aprty, etc.).

As an aside, does anyone know where I can find the stuff Sepulchrave and Cheiromancer were working on for their epic system? I know they gave up, and I even vaguely remember why. I just don't think they deleted all traces, and want to plumb the depths for hidden gems  throw around in me own games...


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## Justin

Siuis said:


> wow, that is quite the impact, there. It reminds me of an imternet image, showing a meteor and some poor, offended planet entitled "I would hit it like the fist of an angry god". I find this fitting.
> 
> I'm also rather proud of Nwm. Thanks to Sep, I've found the simplest spell effects to be the easiest to counter. Who needs massive necromantic forces, when you can SMASH at epic velocity? I remember figuiring out the rules for maximum falling damage from an object and tweaking them - and getting d6 damage expressed in scientific notation when I was done. I have since stopped counting wizardly might via d6s.




Can you imagine Temenun's reaction? "Additionally, I have powerfully warded the deific Shvar Choryati against transva...they did what?"


----------



## Felix

It was not a meteorite that Nwm used; rather an orbital Incredible Hulk, who has been getting increasingly GREEN and upset at the lack of oxygen.

Therefore we have witnessed a Transvalent HULK SMASH.

Therefore _Hummaz_ is Bruce Banner.

Obviously.


----------



## Salthorae

Siuis said:


> As an aside, does anyone know where I can find the stuff Sepulchrave and Cheiromancer were working on for their epic system? I know they gave up, and I even vaguely remember why. I just don't think they deleted all traces, and want to plumb the depths for hidden gems  throw around in me own games...



Sep & Cheiro's Epic Stuff 
There are a bunch of different threads in this Dog Soul Forum in which they worked their epic machinations...


			
				Felix said:
			
		

> It was not a meteorite that Nwm used; rather an orbital Incredible Hulk, who has been getting increasingly GREEN and upset at the lack of oxygen.
> 
> Therefore we have witnessed a Transvalent HULK SMASH.
> 
> Therefore Hummaz is Bruce Banner.
> 
> Obviously.



LMAO... Obviously that is what happened!


----------



## Siuis

Sweet... I do hope I don't confuse myself and lose the link again. I remember checking the epic system every which way, trying to find out what an Opus did. Thank you, Salthorae!



Felix said:


> It was not a meteorite that Nwm used; rather an orbital Incredible Hulk, who has been getting increasingly GREEN and upset at the lack of oxygen.
> 
> Therefore we have witnessed a Transvalent HULK SMASH.
> 
> Therefore _Hummaz_ is Bruce Banner.
> 
> Obviously.




I have difficulty refuting this... No wonder Mostin had trouble discerning the _web_. "Civil war? Retcon? This is absurd!"


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Mini-Update*

Which was to have been part of a longer update, but it seemed apt to post it now.



**

[Jalael]: Observe.

The imp appeared with a _pop!_. It bowed.

[Mostin]: That was not a conjuration. That was a fly.
[Jalael]: In a small world, transmutation is the future. What you cannot conjure, you can transform and coerce: functionally, they equate to the same thing – one _dispel_ and they're gone.
[Mostin]: I am no mere _summoner_. I am the binder of the Horror. I have mastered Celestial Princes. Dukes of Hell quail at the very mention of my name.
[Jalael]: You need to move with the times. Think about it: [equation].
[Mostin]: !
[Shomei]: Greetings.
[Mostin]: Finally, you condescend. What transpires?
[Shomei]: In the last hour? Agalaierept has seized the throne room and the citadel with the second legion. Chamosh is backing his bid, citing the need to maintain order; Astaroth manipulates both of them. Belial has crowned himself emperor in Abriymoch. Azazel is undeclared _but has moved the standard and two hundred legions to Avernus_, including Bune and his malebranche shock troops. The Iron City is locked tighter than…no cosmic superlative is possible. None of the Antagonists are condescending to involve themselves. Yet. When that happens, things will really heat up. 
[Mostin]: And you?
[Shomei]: I remain in the library, observing all with wry detachment. Hell needs a good war, in any case; cull the weak and eliminate some bureaucrats, I say. Can't be bad. The _Ludjas_, Mostin. Two of them, a Hazel and a Holly: they are incredibly potent. Hazel's Will…Azazel understands where the real locus of power now lies. 
[Mostin]: You are advising him?
[Shomei]: I admit I have a soft spot for him.
[Mostin]: You still play the same game, Shomei.
[Shomei]: Fear not. I play well. 
[Mostin] (Wrily): And who pulls your strings? A Tree?
[Shomei]: Actually, I suspect Amaimon.
[Mostin]: I saw a wyrm in the _Web_. Why?
[Shomei]: Qematiel is on the Prime.
[Mostin]: _What_? How?
[Shomei]: Hazel has taken a liking to her.
[Mostin]: What has happened, Shomei?
[Shomei]: The _I_ has shifted Its paradigm. It has incarnated as a deity in Nizkur.
[Mostin]: Ah. More of a fey primal, really. Do you believe this is an artifice?
[Shomei]: On balance, no. But nor do I think it's permanent.

Mostin opened his wine cabinet, and poured himself a large glass of _kschiff_. This news would require some readjustment.


**


"What news?" Eadric asked with mock enthusiasm.

Nwm sat, and gestured toward another stool. "I suggest you do the same. Those whom _Shvar Choryati_ ate are gone."

"Gone?" Eadric asked.

"As in not recoverable. _Reincarnation_ is not an option. They were…snatched. As it were. They have already been afforded new forms."

"_By whom?_"

"The principal suspect is a fey entity named _Hummaz_. Mostin equates him with 'Oronthon's Adversary in the diminishing Infinity.' Mostin's terminology is odd, but I understand his gist. The transition might be likened to Teppu's; or perhaps more akin to Nehael's."

Time seemed to slow to a crawl for the _Ahma_. He cocked his head and looked at Nwm. "You are telling me…"

"There is no Adversary." 

There is no Adversary.

"And…this…Hummaz?" The _Ahma_ inquired. 

"That is a relationship you must negotiate. He is wild; fickle; violent; passionate. And prurient."

"I think I preferred the prior iteration," Eadric sighed. "Ethics? Morals? An opposition thereto?"

"None. More accurately, such concepts are not germane. Will has become Instinct." 

"Magic?" The _Ahma_ asked tentatively.

Nwm stretched his arms apart.

Eadric groaned.

"He's laid claim to a substantial tract of forest. He has a number of servitors around him."

"_Servitors_?"

"But I do not believe him to be overtly _political_," Nwm added hastily. "He is innocent of such matters – and yes, I choose my language carefully. Eadric, if you have any remaining notions of sin, you would do best to divest yourself of them. The Axes have shifted. Wherever they're going, it's not back."

"I have only one question," Eadric spoke steadily. "Is it possible that Oronthon's Adversary – whom, lest we forget, possesses a not undeserved reputation for being _the most conniving and deceitful entity in existence_ – has somehow duped the Tree-_ludja_?"

Nwm considered briefly, and nodded. "That is a good question. I suppose time will tell."

"Do you bring other good news?"

"Oh yes," Nwm nodded. "Plenty. Remain seated. A chthonic deity named _Kaalaanala_ has taken up residence in Jashat. Orcus has withdrawn from the front: he fled from Irel over Ardan, and could be anywhere. Dhatri has settled in Thond – for the time being; she is hungry, after being carried around for so long. Two hosts have left the Temple compound: Visuit and Yeshe lead the smaller, and it will reach Fumaril in four days. The larger is bound for Thond: the demilich is moving with his deathshriekers and, I suspect, Temenun also. Aside from the goddess in residence and a few dozen priests, the Temple of Cheshne is _empty_."

"How do you _know_ this?"

"Certain stones gossip too much."

"Are you suggesting an assault?" The _Ahma_ asked.

Nwm shook his head fervently. "Quite the opposite. She would kill us all. Avoid going within ten miles, at all costs."

"We should move to intercept the smaller host. How many are there?"

"Twelve thousand, half of whom are cavalry. Plus light aerial support – succubi, mainly. And goristros – but only a few dozen: most of the temple defense is with the larger army. But Guho has joined them and there are lots of the longhairs in Visuit's train. They are currently grounded: Mulissu has made the weather uncomfortable. They are devising sorceries to counteract her spell."

"And Pazuzu?"

"Ortwine hunts him."



**


----------



## Gulla

*Bliss*


----------



## Asha'man

sepulchrave ii said:


> [shomei]: The _i_ has shifted its paradigm. It has incarnated as a deity in nizkur.
> [mostin]: Ah. More of a fey primal, really. Do you believe this is an artifice?
> [shomei]: On balance, no. But nor do i think it's permanent.




...
!


----------



## Salthorae

This should teach me to not second guess my instincts when it come to literary interpretation I suppose...


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Sepulchrave II said:


> Time seemed to slow to a crawl for the _Ahma_. He cocked his head and looked at Nwm. "You are telling me…"
> 
> "There is no Adversary."
> 
> There is no Adversary.




Only Sep could call an update in which the Adversary disappears "minor".

Awesome stuff, as usual. Love the Meteor Strike spell, too.


----------



## Roman

It seems my initial thoughts were correct about the Adversary's new identity.


----------



## Siuis

*Self derision*

well _Hell_. Called that one wrong, didn't I? A question arises however; knowing this to be a temporary (cosmically speaking) sojourn on the part of the Nameless Adversary, has he gone _green_ as a method of transcendence, or is it a temporary mask he dons for the sake of convenience?

Irony, in that the Adversary, smartest of the smart, has turned into a big, green smash-a-majigger. Nwm has called forth the Hulk, indeed...


----------



## tleilaxu

Siuis said:


> A question arises however; knowing this to be a temporary (cosmically speaking) sojourn on the part of the Nameless Adversary, has he gone _green_ as a method of transcendence, or is it a temporary mask he dons for the sake of convenience?




yes.


----------



## grodog

Sepulchrave II said:


> "I have only one question," Eadric spoke steadily. "Is it possible that Oronthon's Adversary – whom, lest we forget, possesses a not undeserved reputation for being _the most conniving and deceitful entity in existence_ – has somehow duped the Tree-_ludja_?"
> 
> Nwm considered briefly, and nodded. "That is a good question. I suppose time will tell."




NICE! 



Sepulchrave II said:


> "And Pazuzu?"
> 
> "Ortwine hunts him."




Ah, I love it! 

Thanks Sep:  you keep the worlds (and the plates/balls/planes, and the words) up in the air and spinning, and everyone guessing, and you still manage to surprise us all, after eight+ years now.

Aside:  we should celebrate some sort of Wyrish birthday or something, on 21 Januarys, since Lady Despina's Virtue debuted on 21 January 2002!


----------



## Salthorae

Seriously Grodog... if the Wyre stories were a child, it would be in the 1st grade already! We should celebrate it's b-day!


----------



## Michael Silverbane

Salthorae said:


> Sep & Cheiro's Epic Stuff
> There are a bunch of different threads in this Dog Soul Forum in which they worked their epic machinations...




Speaking of...  did anything more ever come of that work?


----------



## Siuis

I believe the answer, good sir, is that between the two of them, Sep and Cheiro determined that they would have an easier time making a whole new game system, rather than tweaking the epic rules into something that wouldn't defeat the purpose of rules being there in the first place. The end result to the best of my knowledge, was to call off the project after a time. 

Atleast, this was the gist of the answer given to me, back when I first found the epic magic thread. I actually made this account just to try and track down Sep's rules-work, too...

Hopefully, someone will come along and cry "Nay!", and show me to the glorious golden composition that is the New Epic Magic System, but until then I must leave you with this sad news.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

> did anything more ever come of that work?




You have to deconstruct the whole engine - nonepic magic, character wealth (=ability bonuses) - and put it back together. 

I think the reason I abandoned it - and I owe Cheiro an apology for that, as I dropped the ball on him [I'm sorry, Jim] - was that realization. I also knew in my gut that 4e was around the corner (it was before the official announcement) and I pretty much saw it as a futile task, assuming that the new engine would be better than the old.

There's a Pete Seeger song that springs to mind. The 3.5 engine - most importantly to me I guess, its _aesthetic_ - is an altogether superior model. 
_You just have to keep it lubricated all the time._

In any event, I'm thinking about revisiting it. There's a bunch of variant d20/3.XX systems now, and lots of good ideas out there.


----------



## Michael Silverbane

If you do decide to start the d20 deconstruction project, I'd be happy to lend what assistance I am able.  I am currently waffling about on a similar project of my own, but keep cluttering things up by changing my design goals, starting new campaigns, tracking back to older projects, and so on.

If nothing else, I'm sure that I (and other readers of the storyhour) would like to see what you come up with.


----------



## Roman

Sepulchrave II said:


> You have to deconstruct the whole engine - nonepic magic, character wealth (=ability bonuses) - and put it back together.




I am not surprised. In my own campaigns, much as I like 3E/3.5E, I refuse to DM the 3E/3.5E epic system... 

That said, I am consistently surprised at how you are able to run an amazingly epic game using these rules and even use the clunky mechanics as inspiration for flavor (e.g. the idea of transvalent spells). I guess, even though that may have originally come from necessity, they are now an integral part of the Wyre campaign and even if a better system came around, if it were radically different, it would be difficult to switch to it. Than again, your campaign is pretty flexible, so some sort of paradigmatic shift in the workings of magic could always do the trick!  



> There's a Pete Seeger song that springs to mind. The 3.5 engine - most importantly to me I guess, its _aesthetic_ - is an altogether superior model.
> _You just have to keep it lubricated all the time._
> 
> In any event, I'm thinking about revisiting it. There's a bunch of variant d20/3.XX systems now, and lots of good ideas out there.




True - Paizo, I believe, is considering doing an Epic system book for its popular 3.X system, the Pathfinder RPG. I am keen to see what they come up with - I would love to run (or play in) an epic game, but running the current 3/3.5 epic system very well is not viable, in my opinion, notwithstanding the glaring exception that is your campaign. I guess you must have a lot of 3/3.5lubricant handy!


----------



## BiggusGeekus

I did some poking around but was unable to find the condensed pages of this story and the ones leading up to it.  I know they exist, but where?  

Unfortunately, with all realities being equal and no absolutes to form the universe, the collected works may well be the object of worship by a collection of mitochondria in an alternate reality and have thus passed from this one.


----------



## Michael Silverbane

The collected updates thread can be found here.


----------



## BiggusGeekus

Michael Silverbane said:


> The collected updates thread can be found here.


----------



## Noir

New homebrew rules from sep can be found here: http://www.enworld.org/forum/plots-places/267690-3-5-homebrew.html

Pretty interesting stuff, solves the problem of having to convince someone to put on the clerical robes in a neat way.


----------



## grodog

Michael Silverbane said:


> The collected updates thread can be found here.




In addition, I've tagged all (I think) of Sep's Wyre threads with the tag "wyre" and many of this rules threads too; so, EN World D&D / RPG News - Threads Tagged with wyre will be a generally useful link for folks as well, hopefully.


----------



## Knightfall

grodog said:


> In addition, I've tagged all (I think) of Sep's Wyre threads with the tag "wyre" and many of this rules threads too; so, EN World D&D / RPG News - Threads Tagged with wyre will be a generally useful link for folks as well, hopefully.



Good job.


----------



## alice_of_ebony

No bumps in a week?!! Shame!


----------



## Nightbreeze

One month to Christmas...do we wish for a gift of update?


----------



## grodog

Pre-holiday *bump*!


----------



## Siuis

*Ya know...*

It's really cool to look back through the epic that Sepulchrave has spun for us, especially with a keen eye. I love (and envy) that a high level character with a bluff of 24 is aiming to be one of the best liars in the world  - sure, we can bump that into the stratosphere by mid-teens, but who cares? Ortwin(e) is such a character that, numbers or no, the game is awesome because of this choice. I really miss that in my games; Whenever I specialize in something as a PC, the DM either goes through Hell and High water to quash me down, or acts like he is doing me a favor by letting me beat the standard DCs. I yearn for the non-numerical awesomeness of my youth...

It's also really really neat to see how the focus of even the metagame shifted with the levels. Low levels are grinding down goblins and pilfering their lewtz, sure. Everyone knows that. But to see the transition from beat-mob to world powers and diplomats was great. We even got to see how said diplomay functions - 'either we talk it out, or smash each other's face in. No one wants to smash faces, so siddown, yeah?' 

And almost like he scheduled it, Sep showed how it doesn't matter how strong _you_ are, at least not when dealing with hegemony. Rather than direct conflict, it seems that attacking the other's power base is the thing to do; The Paladin and His Friends attack Irknaan's fortress, Nhura and Soneillon ravage Deorham, The party ponders the plunder of Azzagrat, etc. No direct shots against the movers and shakers - at least, not too many. The players are just as instrumental to the events we all hold dear. I think, this winter, I shall give the gift of sttory hour, so that my players can learn how sacrificing that extra +2 to hit can add to the game, rather than detract.


Also, bump.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Happy Saint Lucia's Day. 


*


*Storm Sorceries; Demons' Amulets.*


Nwm had described the weather as _uncomfortable_.

Mulissu had generated a windstorm thirty miles in diameter over the warm waters north of Pandicule, and moved it to occupy a position between Fumaril and Jashat; ahead of it, a derecho had formed through which tornados churned with distressing frequency.

Eadric sat upon _Narh_ on a low rise in the darkness beneath the _Pall of Dhatri_, gazing southward at a large enemy host. Eastwards, the haunted city of Jashat and the soaring pinnacles of the Temple of Cheshne were a blot of corruption on his perception. The _Ahma_ was magically concealed and his sight had been supernaturally enhanced to penetrate all shadows; still, his vision compared nothing to Lai's, who balanced easily in hawk-shape upon his helm. The noise of the wind was deafening. 

The enemy had erected a defense against the storm, creating a smaller bubble of calmer weather which mitigated – but did not altogether counter – the magicks invoked by Mulissu and her cabal. Conjured allies – monoliths, storm-drakes, djinn and lesser elementals – skirmished continually with the Cheshnite outriders and van: clouds formed, discharged lightning and dissipated, and downdrafts erupted and vanished as a dozen competing sorcerous demands were placed on the local weather system.

Visuit was less than a mile away, hewing her way through everything in her path.

[Lai]: You study your enemy?

[Eadric]: Yes.

[Lai]: Do you see any weakness?

[Eadric]: None. She is the perfect warrior.

[Lai]: And what is your strategy?

[Eadric]: Prayer. The adepts are exhausted; Nwm is almost empty of power.

An urge. The goddess paused in her butchery.

A feeling of quietude.

"She senses something is amiss. That she is being observed." Lai hissed and squawked through the roaring wind.

"I thought we were inscrutable."

"And so we are," Lai nodded. "Warded from her sight, sound, touch, smell and all her divine faculties. But not from her instincts."

"If that is the case…"

Before he could finish his sentence, a cloud passed over his consciousness, numbing his soul.

_Kaalaanala_, he knew. Visuit had invoked the great _Bhiti_'s name; the Fires of Death had instantly located him.

"*Enemy Captain. I know you're there.*" Visuit's voice, and the urge to unimaginable violence, carried to all across the battlefield. 

The Butcher began to move towards them. She gestured with her hand: an invitation to combat. 

And now the ravenous perception of the Dark Goddess in Jashat was a terrible presence in the _Ahma_'s mind.

_Get out of my head!_ 

…

_Get out!_

…

_Nehael!_

(I am powerless).

[*YOU WILL DIE.*]

"We have to get out of here," Lai said.

Eadric nodded.

The Green was warm as their forms dissolved into it. Annihilation became a memory.


**


Ortwine corporeated from _wind walking_ and floated, _invisible_ and _mind blanked_ a mile above the water. The air was cold and clear. _Heedless_ stirred restlessly in her hand.

She had chased a vaporous Pazuzu around the cape of Nivorn, across the hills of Ardan, and for more than a thousand miles over open ocean. The pursuit had lasted thirty-three hours, and had demanded a focus more than she thought herself capable of maintaining. Never losing sense of him. And he was more slippery than an eel; her initial attempts to _dominate_ him had proven utterly futile.

Finally, convinced that he had eluded any pursuit, the demon gyred and turned towards the west. Ortwine waited patiently. She sheathed _Heedless_; it writhed as she forced it back into its scabbard, and then projected silent telepathic anger at the sidhe.

Pazuzu materialized and began to work magic; Ortwine cursed, and began to fly silently towards him at speed. She had no notion of his intention; she had no need: demon princes casting spells never boded well. She carefully scrutinized his shape as she closed, scanning him him minutely. 

Pazuzu – who had begun to invoke a ward of some complexity – stopped abruptly as he perceived the slightest breeze waft past him, and felt something snap. He began to scream with incredulity and rage and groped wildly at his throat.

Ortwine materialized a hundred yards ahead of him.

"You want this?" In her hand, she held his amulet. 

He struck her, full force, with an eldritch thunderbolt. It dissipated upon contact with her.

Ortwine laughed. 

He raised his hand as if to strike her again.

And instead became vaporous and vanished.

Ortwine scowled, and followed him with her Sight. She tied Pazuzu's amulet around her own neck.

Oh, that's _good_, she thought.

The chase resumed.


**


"What you seen to fail to appreciate," Mostin said to Nwm through gritted teeth, "Is the _power_ of this dragon."

"She is a hellfire wyrm."

"Yes. No. Of sorts," the Alienist gave an irritated gesture. "She predates them. She may even predate the Fall. And she has not migrated in the sense of Hummaz. Not even in the sense of Mulissu – which is to say very little. She has been _seduced_ by the Hazel-_ludja_; which apparently has connotations of magickal Will."

"Apparently so," Nwm nodded. "Although this is hardly a surprising correspondence."

"The _Urn_ could…"

"Ngarh! You and your damned urn."

"It is pivotal," Mostin sighed. "If you think the Tree-_ludja_ is omnipotent, think again. It is compromised by this admission of the Cheshnite _Bhiti_; and from the outset by permitting the _I_ to remain here in any form. I use the Antinomian descriptor for Hummaz – which stands, according to Shomei, and she is reasonably well informed in such matters – because there are many infinities at work here invisible to you."

"And not to you?"

"Correct," Mostin nodded. "They are merely opaque. Many correspondences: Kaalaanala – Ancient Hellfire – the Wyrm – the Aeon."

"Why the Aeon?" Nwm asked suspiciously.

"I have concurred that it was the Aeon which…lurched…at me through the _web of motes_." [Formula]

"Why do you persist in…"

"It is my contention that the Aeon is fundamentally draconic," Mostin stared madly. "It was Qematiel who…lurched…at me through the _web of motes_."

"Wait!" Nwm held up his hand. "I am lost. Which is it?"

Mostin stopped speaking, and considered. "Infinities are bleeding. It makes divination complex. In any event, I don’t have the _Urn_, and the reason I don't have the _Urn_ was because I was saving your sorry skins from annihilation; a service for which I am rewarded by a massive curtailment of magical power. 

"How fortunate for us that you are so selfless," Nwm said drily.

"Do you understand that _Qematiel is Ancient Hellfire. The wyrm which the Adversary will ride to the Oronthonist eschaton_?" Mostin asked steadily. 

"That reality is dead."

"Maybe. But Qematiel is not. This assumes, of course, the Adversary himself is not making some cosmic play. I have a plan…"

Nwm groaned.

"Hear me out," Mostin raised his appendage. "I need to convene a cabal. And I need your help…"

"Why?" 

"I have an inkling. I will conjure Soneillon again as I need to talk to her. Outside of your loop. You have to get me there."

"You're insane. How _far_ outside?"

"I don't care. Just far enough. Then I'll make my way to the astral retreat. But give me a couple of days. There are tomes in Ardanese monasteries which I need to consult."

"You have twenty-four hours. I plan on being in Fumaril thereafter."

Mostin scowled. "Can you get me to Esoc?"

"You can get there yourself," Nwm answered. "You'll have to walk the last mile, but it's generally polite to approach on foot, in any case." [Look: oak -> oak -> beech -> oak -> rowan]

"How many of these things have you made?"

"A few dozen," he shrugged. "It's getting hard to remember where they all are. Hlioth has fashioned many more."


**


[Ortwine]: _Priestess!_

[Mesikammi]: Your largeness?

[Ortwine]: Mesi, now is not the time for banter. My foe will not turn to let me kill him. I bore of this chase.

[Mesikammi]: You wish for my help?

[Ortwine]: I am issuing a divine command. Conjure a storm and force him down.

[Mesikammi]: Such an effect would be tiring at this distance.

[Ortwine]: There is kelp nearby; you can manifest yourself closer.

[Mesikammi]: I must also get wet?

[Ortwine]: I will grant you a boon, as befits faithful service.

[Mesikammi]: Perhaps a pretty bauble, recently won?

[Ortwine]: Mesi, do you spy on me? Truly, you are a worthy servant. 

[Mesikammi]: An image of your holiness appears in my mind. 

[Ortwine]: Such devotion should not go unrewarded. The amulet is a delight, I confess; I will bestow a different bounty, if you show a little patience.

[Mesikammi]: I can spare a little, but not too much.

Close by, the shamaness appeared. A wind began to gather. 


**


Voicing her name was enough to invoke her; Nehael could offer no protection against her. This boded ill. 

Presently, Oak and Elm shielded the Wyrish encampment with their power – not just the scions in the nearby vale, but the _ludjas_ themselves, from deep within Nizkur. But this was not an effect which the _Ahma_ was comfortable relying on – trees having their own, peculiar agenda. Nor was it of much use beond the zone of the _ludjas_' perception. And Eadric had no intention of entrenching permanently at Galda, despite the rapidly completed fortification of the site.

The _Ahma_ therefore issued an edict, announced by archons who attended him. Trumpets rang, and the voices of celestials carried the proclamation to all within the Wyrish camp:

_The name of the enemy in Jashat is anathema and may not be spoken: likewise, the name of the enemy war-goddess, and any of the abhorred names of Ancient Darkness. 
All iconography, all material representation, all literature containing reference to any such entities is forthwith deemed blasphemous and must be surrendered immediately. 

Practice _Saizhan.

Eadric summoned Tuan Muat, a Talion whose prior acts had denied him bliss, and anointed him. The Inquisition was formally revived.

"Start with the aristocracy," Eadric motioned. "Refrain from physical coercion until they've had a chance to think about it."

"_Ahma_," the Inquistor began. "Many of the most ancient Temple texts…"

"Impound them," Eadric said. "In fact, confiscate them first, _then_ start on the aristocracy. We need to set a good example, after all. This is a practical measure, not a philosophical one."

"The Irrenites aren't going to like this," Tuan Muat observed.

"Bring me Sineig." Eadric sighed. 

"And the wizards?"

Eadric groaned. "Be _politic_, Inquisitor. A little pragmatic hypocrisy is no bad thing. My concern is with the ignorant; wizards must monitor themselves." 

"And if one articulates these forbidden names or concepts in one's thoughts?" Tagur asked.

"Then they must be demonstrated to be un-True," the _Ahma_ nodded. "Hence, we practice _Saizhan_. We must move. I need a sizeable force before noon tomorrow: I plan to relieve Fumaril."

"How many?"

"Two thousand horse and eight thousand foot – half pike and half archers. Illuminated and Templars. I'll take whatever Thalassine bombards you have, as well. With cold iron shot." 

"A little more notice would be appreciated," Prince Tagur sighed. 

"Just get them together in one place. Nwm will do the rest."

"I understand the principle," Tagur said. "And a little more notice would be appreciated."

"Noted," the _Ahma_ nodded. "You have my apology, your Highness. Your tenure in the Serenities does not seem to have diminished your acidity."

"Oh," Prince Tagur sounded mildly disappointed. "I had rather hoped that it had."


**


At midnight, in Nizkur, all was darkness.

In a certain set of glades named Raithin Gabro, to the south of the forest and not too far from the marches of Tyndur, a power accumulated around an ancient stone named the _Cleta_; one of the many erratics or _storrs_ which dotted the valleys nearby. 

The area was a wild one: bare hilltops thrust above dense stands of pine. Further west, a forlorn strand stretched beneath rearing cliffs. Those tracts had a reputation for savage and malicious feys of every hue. It was here that Hummaz had elected to establish his realm: an area, to all intents and purposes, of Faerie proper.

From the bole of the Tree, a hundred miles to the north, Nehael's perception ranged wide over the land, absorbing all.

"What do you see?" Teppu asked excitedly. "He makes no efforts to impede your sight?"

"None," Nehael sighed. "Faerie awakens. I see areas of dusk and gloam and magic, and quicklings moving in the shadows. I see sidhe fortresses perched on windy crags, and hoary hunters preparing to ride. There are eight scions…"

"_Eight?_" 

"Holly and Hazel, obviously. A Willow. Others. Curiously, also a Yew. Ninit. The Boars. They have _reincarnated_. And those whom the Eater of Light consumed; the forest is alive."

"I sense no Awakening."

"I speak figuratively. The trees remain dormant, for the most part. But all of the most robust who were were taken by _Shvar Choryati_ have transmigrated. They have lost none of their potency; they are now fey."

"Sidhe?"

"Many. And tree-wyrds and other genii. And nymphs and satyrs. The latter revel as we speak. Hummaz is drunk."

"One hopes that this is not a prelude to some rampage," Teppu sighed.

"His mood seems amiable enough. He smiles drowsily at me." 


**


Mostin augmented and warded himself with powerful spells, and _plane shifted_ to an area where _reality maelstroms_ churned through Void. Mile-long shards of matter span slowly on their axes, flickering on the edge of annihilation. 

A _telepathic bond_ connected him to Jalael, Troap and Daunton, who were ensconced in the astral retreat, forty-seven shattered dimensions distant. Mostin's sensory experience was conveyed directly into the other wizards' minds.

[Daunton]: Pan left. Up a little.

Mostin scowled.

In the far distance, dominating all, a redoubt of substance which the Blackthorn-_ludja_ had gathered around itself. Like a vast mountain floating capsized in space, fragments of Zelatar – complete with minarets, domes and viper groves – comprised its inverted flanks. About its base, a fence of lesser peaks thrust upwards to surround a forested bowl twenty miles wide, at the centre of which, Mostin knew, the malign Blackthorn brooded.  Flights of chthonics – which erupted spontaneously and vanished as quickly – avoided proximity to the great Tree.

Mostin wrought magic, and brought his will to bear upon the planar flux near him. In a previous cycle, Graz'zt had made spells of his own for the same purpose: vast in scope, and taking millennia to complete. Strands of plasm flowed; matter quickly agglomerated, assuming shapes and angles possessed of a disturbing quality. The aesthetic was peculiar in the extreme.

The Alienist drew a rod of cold iron two feet long from a _portable hole_, and scratched a wide circle about himself quickly. Within it, he scribed a set of complex runes and glyphs with uncanny speed and precision, pausing occasionally to recollect. With a motion, the rod vanished and the scrawl became a perfectly engraved tracery of iron.

Mostin stood inside the circle, muttered, and made a brief gesture.

A _gate_ opened, and Soneillon appeared without duress.

Mostin recoiled, and reflexively assumed his pseudonatural shape as a churning vortex of darkness attempted to engulf him. It failed – barely – to penetrate a hemisphere which had sprung into existence around the wizard. Mostin swallowed with many mouths: he had thought to err in his protective ward with a wide margin of safety.

Soneillon withdrew and immediately became a demure child with wide eyes.

"Mostin. How delightful to see you again. Forgive my enthusiasm to embrace you."

Mostin remained in tentacled form, a thousand eyes directed suspiciously at the demoness. He knew that she could endure any magic he presently had at his command: in _Uzzhin_, it appeared, she had not only undergone a powerful pseudogenesis, but had taken tutelage with one of the elder horrors; spellwarp clung heavily to her. A number of transvalent spells protected her.

"Let's negotiate," the Alienist said wisely.

"_A Flame Precedes the Aeon_, Mostin. It troubles my dreams. What does it mean?"

Mostin resumed his humanoid shape, looked at his hand, and cocked his head quizzically. "Why do we find such forms necessary?"

"For you, sentimentality; for me, habit. Mostin, your evasiveness needs much work: the question still stands."

"You might volunteer a little first," the Alienist smiled. "Given the level of mutual distrust which we must first overcome. Note that I have conjured you without compulsion in a locale which is suitably secure for you."

"I have accepted an invitation; that hardly qualifies as grounds for debt. And good luck in your efforts to bind me. Still, I will tell you this: Carasch gathers darkness to himself; he prepares an oneiric assault. It will come in three days."

Mostin raised his eyebrows. "He is bold to move against the Seraphim. The Tree may swat him for his insolence."

"Or ignore him, as a fly. The fence has holes for those who know where to look. Only the great _bhitis_ dream deeper than Carasch. _A Flame Precedes the Aeon?_"

"An opportunity to actualize the _Urn_, now passed," Mostin sighed.

"Which Flame?"

"In the Urgic sense; an iota of Perfect Radiance. Manifested when the _Sela_ transmigrated."

"But you lost the Flame," Soneillon understood. "You search for another. Still, you withold much; some component of the equation is absent."

"This is to be expected," Mostin nodded. "You are my enemy."

"I am/not what I am/not," Soneillon snorted. "And you I bear no more malice than the rest of Creation, Mostin. If I were to proffer a little more, would you bite?"

"In this case, I regret I must decline. There is no article of knowledge which you possess which might be of equivalent value. You can surrender the _Urn_, to be privy."

Soneillon smiled sweetly. "Unlikely. But I am also reminded that _analas_ – which is to say _flames_ – come in a variety of colors. Perhaps ruddy or black? One might ask why there is a Hellfire Atavism lurking in the woods? Or would Carasch burn with sufficient heat, I wonder? Or the goddess in Jashat, the Death-_Anala_ herself?"

Mostin shifted uncomfortably.

"You see," Soneillon placed her palms together. "The Void has opened, Mostin. It draws other forms spiralling into it. My power waxes."

"A Tree sits atop your palace and has enslaved your cabal," Mostin sneered. "You have no foundation." 

Soneillon drew close to the circle's edge, placing childlike hands upon the invisible barrier. "The Cherry can wait. Chthonic axes will hew its roots in due course. Understand me, Mostin: I have been _Outside_ and I have returned. I know what you know; I've seen what you have seen. Is there no potential for productive discourse?"

"Certainly. That is why I called you. Some topics must presently remain taboo, however. With which did you apprentice when you were Outside?"

Soneillon laughed. "You would not believe me if I told you."

"An entity of some reputation, I assume?"

"Something hidden, Mostin."

"Then this I must know," Mostin said wrily.

"Vhorzhe," Soneillon whispered. "My sponsor is Vhorzhe, Mostin."

The Alienist gaped at her.

"I told you that you wouldn't believe me."

"No," Mostin said grimly; the solutions to a number of nagging equations had already presented themselves in his mind. "I believe you well enough. You found a Pseudodaemonic Infinity."

"You should be more careful when targeting your _banishments_, Mostin. I didn't even have to look."

"The spell is named _Pilgrimage_," Mostin said bitterly. "An apt descriptor in your case, or so it would appear. Trust me Soneillon, were necromancy within my purview, I'd have happily obliterated you instead."

She smiled coyly. "Mostin, sometimes you speak such charming words."

"Nor did I name any particular pseudolocus for the spell. I find the prospect of coincidence improbable."

"To discover that one has been manipulated by an unknown agent is never a happy moment," Soneillon's eyes narrowed.

[Daunton]: _Vhorzhe_?

[Troap]: Enlighten me?

[Jalael]: Mostin was apprenticed to him. A disagreeable sort, by all accounts. Shomei knew him. Mostin's over-hyped Horror abducted him previously.

Mostin scowled. A wizard's dirty laundry was seldom a pleasant sight.

[Mostin]: Enough! Begone! I will relate the shabby details in Fumaril.

The Alienist summarily dismissed the other wizards from his mind.

In a chamber of the astral retreat, Jalael looked hard at Daunton. "He is so damnably arrogant. Will he now strike some deal without our knowledge? Why do we endure this tyrannical lunatic as our spokesman?"

Daunton raised an eyebrow, and glanced at Graz'zt's token, which hung around the Hag's neck; her greatest treasure gained from the _binding_ of the demon prince.

"Profit," the diviner replied sagely.


**


Otwine swore. Divine blood erupted in a cloud from delicate fey skin as a sonic of great magnitude struck her. _Heedless_ was a blur in her hand. It screamed ecstatically.

The Demon had gone to ground on an unnamed island; ancient olive groves, long abandoned by some ocean-going culture, clung to the steep slopes of a dormant volcanic peak. The trees were being ripped from their roots and hurled into the sky from the force of the wind which Mesikammi had conjured. 

Pazuzu spat a gout of corrupted acid over Ortwine; she saw the droplets spin through the air towards her and somehow avoided each. The wind carried the black vapor harmlessly away.

"This."

Ortwine opened a gashing wound across the demon's chest.

"Is."

And another.

"Just."

And another.

"Too."

And another.

"Easy."

And another.

It was. The cornered demon prince screamed in rage and frustration. His remaining magic was impotent against her; his claws could find no purchase to inject their ineffectual venom. She outpaced him. Out-fought him. Out-thought him. He was stuck in this accursed _place_.

"I yield," Pazuzu screeched above the wind. It was a violation of his pact with Yeshe, but he cared nothing for that any longer; all of the old rules had been overturned.

"Thanks," Ortwine cut his head off.

The gale subsided abruptly.

Reaching down, the sidhe-goddess retrieved a rod of intricate design ending in a golden claw. She plucked a long feather from the fallen demon's wing. 

"For Mostin," she smiled to Mesikammi.

The clouds parted: for a moment, the Sun shone brighter; a great bird seemed to pass across its disc. Upon the ground, the broken remains of the Prince of the Lower Aerial Kingdoms burned swiftly; ash was carried away on a gentle breeze.

Ortwine made a rude gesture towards the Luminary. "I didn't ask for your opinion. I'd have taken another feather, if I'd known."


**


The _Ahma_ retired grimly to his tent. As he entered, a movement within it prompted him to draw _Lukarn_ in a flash.

He found himself gazing at his own reflection and swallowed. Resting on a stand, not a mirror but a round shield, burnished to perfection. Once _Melimpor's shield_, hammered fresh by celestial smiths, then cloven by Visuit; it had been cast yet again. A delicate device of Tree-and-Sun was etched upon it. Around its circle, between its rim and wide boss, phoenixes took flight; they seemed to wheel incessantly as the observer moved this way and that. _Lukarn_'s light was reflected as with a green and gold fire.

"Strike it," a voice said from behind him. It was Jaliere.

"I…"

"_Strike it!_" The god demanded. "Hew at it with all your strength. Smash it. Shiver it."

The _Ahma_ gathered his power and dealt a terrific blow with his weapon, two-handed, striking the shield's upper rim. The stand shattered. The shield sank into the dirt floor under the force of the assault, but otherwise bore no mark.

"Good," Jaliere nodded.

"I…"

"Don't bother," the god of the forge grunted. "Your account is still firmly in the black."

"There is no debt. I have never expected payment." Eadric shook his head.

"Hence, you deserve it," Jaliere replied. The god regarded him. "_Ahma_, in Soan they build a great temple to you."

"No!" Eadric stepped back and his face contorted. "I cannot be worshipped."

"Then you must disabuse your worshippers of their prayerful notions," Jaliere sighed. "I wish you all the best in that endeavour."

"And why are they building temples? A few thousands; barely returned from death. They must feed themselves. Clothe themselves. Build shelter."

Jaliere laughed. "The gods and ancestors are not idle in Sisperi, _Ahma_. And it has already been five years."

"Five years?" 

"In Sisperi. Saes changed the passage of time; increased the pace of mortality – if only for a little while. The negotiation between her and Ortwine? Were you not present?"

"In body only," the _Ahma_ smiled.

Eadric lifted the shield, and wiped the dirt from its rim. The tree in its design was – unmistakeably – a yew.

"How did you know it was a Yew?" He asked.

"Lai sees much," Jaliere replied.


**


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## the Jester

Awesome as always, Sep!

Vhorzhe... what an unexpected turn of events!


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## Nifft

Yay!


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## carborundum

Amazing! Thank-ee sai, master Sep.


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## Nightbreeze

An update on my birthday! A most wonderful gift, Sep


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## Roman

Thanks Sep!

Another excellent update makes for a nice Christmas present. ​


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## Salthorae

Wow... you leave on a business trip for a few days and a great update almost passes unheeded!

Thanks for the bump Roman!


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## Noir

Great update as always Sep. I am liking that you are bringing 'outside' indside.


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## darkbard

Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!  A treat amid the storm blanketing NYC right now!


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## Baron Opal

Sepulchrave II said:


> Eadric lifted the shield, and wiped the dirt from its rim. The tree in its design was – unmistakeably – a yew.
> 
> "How did you know it was a Yew?" He asked.
> 
> "Lai sees much," Jaliere replied.



This part lost me.


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## Noir

Christmas Eve BUMP!


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## Sepulchrave II

*Fumaril – Part 1.*



The _Ahma_ stood on the balcony of the Tyrant's palace and gazed eastwards. Tents now crowded the baileys below, but all was gloomy and indistinct, save the throne room behind him; in that narrow space alone, Mulissu had found enough power to counteract the oppressive darkness of the _Pall of Dhatri_. It was the only light for a hundred miles. 

Nwm – who rested after the transportation of many companies of Wyrish troops – had resolved to counter the spell locally, at least to a mile or two beyond Fumaril's walls. Mostin – unusually animated – had made calculations which made the Preceptor groan. To do so would be a massive drain on their already stretched magical resources.

Initially, Mostin had been sceptical; news of vampires and spectres had caused him to reconsider. "You need get the timing right. Fry as many as you can. And you need to start conserving resources. Squeeze every drop. I have it. Look: [Formula]."

"You may use plain speak."

"_Lukarn_," Mostin said. "As the focus. Gather them up and perform the ritual now. Then you take a rest. Be fresh later. 

Nwm stared blankly.

"_Limited resources_," Mostin reminded him. "Visuit will be knocking on the doors in less than twelve hours."

"Very well. Limited resources. You're in. Help spread the pain around."

Eadric remained solemn throughout, brooding upon the strategic situation. As he handed _Lukarn_ to Nwm for the purpose of the spell; a general presentiment of unease possessed him.

Visuit's maneuver with the multiple _gates_ and chthonic summons at Cirone had demonstrated to the _Ahma_ that the goddess – while relishing direct, bloody conflict – had a number of other tools at her disposal. Her assault would be fast, brutal, and extraordinarily well-coordinated. No chthonic intervention could tip the scales this time; in that regard, the threat was at least more quantifiable. Mostin had observed that _banishing_ her again was also not possible as long as the Tree's interdict held. She must therefore be killed; Eadric's preferred solution, certainly, but not one which was obviously achievable.

The hairs of the back of his neck stood abruptly, and his eyes widened.

She was.

Here.

"_Nwm_!" He screamed. "Sword!"

The Preceptor tossed him back his weapon.


**


In the courtyard directly below the balcony there was an eruption of earth and rock which hurled flagstones fifty feet into the air; the ground heaved and rippled like liquid. Guho had conjured an earth-spirit – a dao prince of considerable prestige – and negotiated a terrene passage for four travellers. The Worm-that-Walks was accompanied by the goddess Visuit, Yeshe the Binder, and Choach, manifesting a fresh form from his hidden phylactery. 

Upon his arrival, the lich immediately scoured all trace of life from the courtyard with a massive acid evocation. Yeshe struck the façade of the palace with a powerful vibration which caused it to collapse. The _Ahma_ and Nwm were borne away in an avalanche of rubble. The Alienist – alerted by a moment of prescience – had hopped onto a more secure foundation, now a pilon of masonry extending from the stricken building.

Mostin stopped time.

*

He considered, and many eyes absorbed many details; his mind processed perception rapidly. Why this moment? What was the qualifier which had divined this point in time for their attack? The _Ahma_ parted momentarily from _Lukarn_? Their foresight was subtle, or the synchronicity apt.

Visuit was in mid-leap, her monstrous weapon raised above her head and ready to fall; whether her target was Nwm or Eadric was impossible to say: it was likely that the goddess herself had not yet made that determination.

Guho was in the act of casting another transvalent spell; the accretion of magic around her revealed much. It was an enchantment; a bad one, designed to punch through _mind blanks_. And her attention was turned in his direction.

Choach and Yeshe were both gathering their power again, but their specific intention was unknown. Furthermore, a complex lattice of unidirectional antimagic protected both; a network of fine gaps in Mostin's arcane perception. That would be a problem.

Behind him, in the throne-room, Mesikammi was conjuring…something. Mulissu was fortifying herself: air crackled; the metallic reek of ozone reached his nose. Daunton had begun to protect himself as best he could. Tahl was roaring _Get Out!_ at everyone else.

Ortwine's location was unknown.

Mostin augmented his consciousness to godlike proportions and refocused. Backlash cascaded over him.


*


As time recommenced, he targeted Guho with the _Mhuerh Resonance_, a sonic of terrific power. The aberration exploded into a million pieces.

The Alienst launched a _disjunction_ at Yeshe and Choach, but it slithered off of their protective shells.

From nowhere, _Heedless_, flying through the air, bit into Visuit's gorget but was turned by the hammered layers of black adamant. Her armor pulsed with death runes in anger.

Mostin experienced a brief dissonance: in an unrealized future, the goddess had brought her weapon down upon Nwm, slaying him instantly, and cleaving into Eadric, smashing through his armor; in the realized, Ortwine had used a spell to avert the possibility at the last moment. Instead, Visuit's sword opened a wound from the Preceptor's shoulder to his belly and left him senseless.

The _Ahma_ smote her with all his power. She leered at him.

At the behest of the goddess, Choach sealed the area surrounding Nwm, Eadric and Visuit with a transvalent spell: a spherical _wall of force_ which encapsulated a bubble of antimagic. All dweomers failed within it, but Ortwine did not manifest; Mostin guessed that she had somehow jumped free.

Visuit smiled. As potent as her own artifacts might be, in an area of dead magic she had a huge advantage.

Yeshe struck Mostin with a spell contrived to imprison souls; his spellwarp absorbed it, energizing him. She followed with a quickened _superb dispelling_, divesting him of most of his magical protections.

Mulissu stopped time.

*

Mostin was poised upon the remains of the balcony at the very edge of illumination. Below, in shadow, Yeshe's contorted face was caught in the act of voicing an execration. Mulissu considered the bubble around Eadric and Visuit, and glanced at Yeshe and Choach. It would be one or the other.

She erected a _prismatic wall_ directly in front of Mostin, sealing off three-quarters of the opening in the blasted façade, and preventing Choach from targeting either the Alienist or Daunton. Next, she conjured an air monolith, which remained in a paradoxical stasis, its unmoving-churning base threatening Yeshe and the lich. The savant gathered her thoughts.

Time recommenced.

*

Mulissu darted into the air and targeted the encysted antimagic surrounding the _Ahma_ with a _superb dispelling_, evaporating it instantly. Simultaneously, the monolith was a churning vortex which sucked Choach into it.

With a thought, Mulissu stopped time again.

*

The savant scowled at Visuit. The Butcher was nigh-invulnerable to her magic, and her options with regard to the goddess were limited. She quickly scanned Yeshe with a powerful spell and raised an eyebrow.

_You stupid, arrogant bitch_, Mulissu thought. _You have no idea_

She invoked a _mantle of egregious might_, and concentrated.

Time recommenced.

*

Mulissu struck Yeshe with an _antimagic ray_ and conjured two spheres of ball lightning which blazed as they hammered into the immortal. Yeshe gaped in pain and amazement. Tendrils of lightning wrapped around her. 

Choach uttered a swift _destruction_, causing the elemental around him to disintegrate in an explosion of black fire, and directed an empowered _energy drain_ at Mulissu which failed to pierce her wards. 

Mostin stopped time.

*

The Alienist was shaken; his most potent defenses were stripped from him. He granted himself the power of flight, moved out from behind the _prismatic wall_, and briefly surveyed the scene. His magical sight had also been suppressed; shapes were blurry and vague.

Mulissu was floating above the courtyard, traceries of static lightning surrounding her. Choach was below her. Yeshe's power was muted by _antimagic_.

Mostin descended, conjured a _prismatic sphere_ directly in front of Choach, and refocused.

Time recommenced.

*

Mostin became a hideous _thing_. A barbed tentacle lashed out and dragged the lich through the seven layers of shimmering light which surrounded the Alienist. Undaunted and unaffected, Choach dropped another _superb dispelling_ – this time on the entire area below the _prismatic wall_.

All magic ceased, save for the _Pall of Dhatri_ only. The pervasive gloom reasserted itself in the perception of all present; suddenly, everything became real, and shadowy.

For a brief moment, all eyes turned to Mostin.

His form remained the same. 


*


From nowhere, a subdued _Heedless_ was about Yeshe: Ortwine – now visible as a swift shadow – was finding gaps within the Binder's armor. Yeshe staggered under the assault.

Visuit glowered at the insensible Nwm and cut him down in an instant. She continued with a ferocious attack upon Eadric, dealing huge punishment to him and forcing him backwards. He could barely stand, much less focus; _Lukarn_ dropped from his hand; his strength ebbed away.

A boar – one of the enormous _Gultheins_, conjured by Mesikammi – burst out of the throne-room and ploughed into Visuit, carrying her thirty feet into a balustrade with an explosion of rubble. Yeshe became insubstantial and flitted away as Mulissu targeted her with a barrage of lightning orbs. Tahl leapt down to Nwm's side, and revivified him. 

Mostin, a writhing mass of appendages, ripped Choach apart and flung skeletal remains in all directions. 

Magic surged as a score of artifacts reawakened.


*


Visuit slew the boar with a single, great swipe of her sword. Power coursed through her again now. She turned her attention back to Eadric.

In a heartbeat, Ortwine closed the distance, scooped up _Lukarn_ and pressed it into the _Ahma_'s gauntleted fist. The weapon stirred; Eadric's faculties returned abruptly.

"That way," Ortwine said, orienting him. "You're doing fine."

Daunton erected a _wall of force_ in front of the Butcher, sealing her into a corner.

"How long do we have?" Eadric asked.

"I'd guess about six seconds," Ortwine replied.

"Did I miss much?" Nwm asked. Tahl had _healed_ him.

Another spell from Daunton facilitated a _telepathic bond_ amongst all present.


**

[Mostin]: Ignore Yeshe. Target Visuit.

[Mulissu]: Forget it. I've got nothing. We need to take out her goon.

Yeshe – vaporous and hidden somewhere nearby in the gloom – used _telekinesis_ to lift Visuit into the air over the _wall of force_ and deposited her directly in front of Eadric, Nwm and Ortwine. 

Mulissu – aware only of the Binder's approximate location – blasted the area around  Yeshe and Mostin with a string of powerful electrical evocations. The Alienist – happily immune to lightning, and realizing the wisdom of Mulissu's words – followed suit with a sonic barrage. 

[Nwm]: I'll take whatever you've got.

[Eadric + Mesikammi + Tahl]: Ready.

[Ortwine]: You'd better finish this. 

A pillar of green fire consumed Visuit. She screamed in agony; a sound which rocked the foundations of Fumaril. Thundering forwards in a rage, she slew Nwm for a second time, her great, curved sword, cutting him limb from limb in a flurry of deadly strokes.

Daunton struck the goddess with a _dispelling_; momentarily, her armor subsided into quiescence.

Yeshe had vanished into the darkness.

Mostin smote Visuit with a sonic _meteor swarm_ – his last remaining big evocation. Mulissu began to conjure another elemental.

Ortwine, sensing opportunity, attacked in earnest; all of her focus was directed at parting Visuit's head from her shoulders. From the opposite side, Eadric hewed into her with _Lukarn_.

With three mighty strokes, Visuit dropped the _Ahma_ like a stone, whirled her blade over her head, and clove into Ortwine, driving her backwards in a daze. With a back-handed swipe she slew Tahl the Incorruptible – who was moving to _revivify_ Eadric – as an afterthought. Mostin had resorted to _magic missiles_ which pulsed into the goddess. 

Another boar crashed into Visuit, a great tusk impaling her through her armor and forcing her back yet again.

Yeshe corporeated for an instant beside Visuit before both dissolved into mist.

Mulissu cursed.



Mostin experienced it as a shiver; the subtlest aethers were singing in resonance. 

Mesikammi gaped. She saw and heard, although no other might. The radiance was overwhelming; the sonority, perfect. She danced and clapped. "Beautiful Flames! Beautiful Flames!"

In the darkness, Mostin assumed a humanoid shape and considered. Nwm would self-incarnate in a few hours. The lich would slink away to his phylactery. Guho had more than a few worms hidden, no doubt.

But Eadric of Deorham had passed. He would be presented with a variety of choices.

*

Ortwine's senses returned to her and she wiped the blood from her eyes. Her faculties reached out through the shadows, groping in search of Visuit and Yeshe. Nothing.

_Next time, Faerie._ Visuit's voice, echoing in Ortwine's mind.

The sidhe focused. 

_Lai. Get here now. We need you._

Mulissu turned to Daunton. "You will convoke the Wyrish Academy."

Daunton protested. "We are not in Wyre. And the Collegium is not Mulissu's to command. And the Interdict prevents the spell, in any case. Mostin?"

"Do as she says," Mostin nodded. "Tell them to get here as fast as they can, by whatever means they can."








**


I've been avoiding footnotes. But:

*Mulissu's main attack spells are electrically-substituted energy orbs with a variety of secondary (entangling, sickening etc.) and metamagic effects attached; I ruled that energy conjurations logically penetrate antimagic as well as ignore SR. Sketchy, but there you go. Yeshe had native resistance to electricity as well, but not much. She botched two DC 50 Fort saves.

*Mostin gets 9 tentacle attacks at +44 (2d8+14). 

*Devastating Critical is the most broken feat _ever_.

*DM Note: I may have underestimated Visuit's CR for this encounter.


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## Jackylhunter

Best..update...ever!

Wow, has Eadric ever actually been slain before?


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## Baron Opal

Yowza. "He would be presented with a variety of choices", indeed.

They need to do some research on Visuit, _now_.

And, an unexpected benefit of working today.


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## the Jester

Daaamn.... merry Christmas, guys.


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## Asha'man

> Devastating Critical is the most broken feat _ever_




You say that in a campaign full of epic spellcasters?
I suppose there are fewer checks and balances, but still -How would Eadric fare against a "regular" critical from Visuit, or against an epic Implosion variant?

I don't have your first-hand experience, of course. Do DCs get out of hand because of HD/Strength inflation?  

Also, when you say that Yeshe *botched* DC 50 fortitude saves... 
Or am I misreading the implications?


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## tleilaxu

thanks again sep! merry christmas to you and yours!

the ahma dies... god inhales?


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## the Jester

Sepulchrave II said:


> *Devastating Critical is the most broken feat _ever_.




Given the amount of damage that epic level pcs and monsters deal, I agree. 

Its broken-ness is offset by how easy it is to get immunity to crits, however.


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Jackylhunter said:


> Best..update...ever!
> 
> Wow, has Eadric ever actually been slain before?




Awesome Christmas present from Sep! Thank you!

FOUR time stops in one combat - insane.


----------



## grodog

An excellent update, Sep!

To the best of my recollection, Eadric has not been slain before, and certainly not since his rise to divinity as _The Ahma_.


----------



## tleilaxu

grodog said:


> An excellent update, Sep!
> 
> To the best of my recollection, Eadric has not been slain before, and certainly not since his rise to divinity as _The Ahma_.




before the last post the only PC to have died was ortwin(e) (twice). following the last post, the only PC to NOT have died is mostin.


----------



## The Forsaken One

Ahhh amazing! Two updates and Mostin being cooler then ever! Sick devellopments, loving it .


----------



## Knightfall

That was insanely intense! 

Thanks for the great updates, Sep.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Enjoyable as alvays !



Sepulchrave II said:


> *Mostin gets 9 tentacle attacks at +44 (2d8+14).




He got the BIG template, eh ? Hadn't noticed earlier ... why won't he slap Visuit some ? She should get some morale penatly for that. 
And "The Rot".



Sepulchrave II said:


> *Devastating Critical is the most broken feat _ever_.




Cool one, but I remade it in my campaign. Twice. First, to not kill but to drop to -1. Then deleted it and replaced with "Improved critical hit multiplier". My two wizards still complain about fighter's damage output. Only warlock "wasted" enough feats to have it on Eldritch Blast. Giggles a lot when sometimes it explodes out of control. With critical metamagic feats, for example.

"He did what ? Not again ! We were to capture this alive !!!"



Sepulchrave II said:


> *DM Note: I may have underestimated Visuit's CR for this encounter.




Yup, more glory to the Epic fighters !


----------



## TaranTheWanderer

Anyone have Visuits stat-block handy so that I may peruse?


----------



## Nifft

tleilaxu said:


> before the last post the only PC to have died was ortwin(e) (twice). following the last post, the only PC to NOT have died is mostin.



 Mostin won't die, because he is Cthulhu.

Cheers, -- N


----------



## tleilaxu

Nifft said:


> Mostin won't die, because he is Cthulhu.
> 
> Cheers, -- N




ah, but then he would need to Dream.


----------



## Roman

Thanks for the Christmas update!


----------



## Guilberwood

OMG Eadric is dead!

I belive this is the worst defeat the party has ever had. Ortwin has died a few times before, but Eadric never, and neither did Nwm, specially two times in a row.

Not a good day to the good guys. I hope they can turn the tide....

Sep, how did the players react to this series of events?


----------



## Siuis

**gaping in awe**

Stars and Fire, man! that was intense!

So many questions... And comments. I really need to find what stat blocks I can for the Big Guys here. I remember looking them over, but I think we may have to break down what they are capable of, just to get a good grasp of the damage being done...

What level is the party now? I know it's much more free-form at this point, but last I heard was ECL 31, and that was with Mostin getting Psuedonatural and Spellwarped. And that seems to have bee a while ago.

Also, not sure if I'm going to get the link right, but Visuit can be found here


----------



## Salthorae

Wow... that is the suck. 

I will say, it's probably not helping that she has Irresistable Blows (Falchion)... touch attacks with every single swing of her +62 BAB? 

Also, with a DC of 58, the Fort save on that Devastating Critical isn't anything to laugh at... sigh. 

If only Eadric had some Heavy Fortification Armor that rendered him immune to critical hits...


----------



## Innocent Bystander

Looking at Visuit's stats, even heavy fortification armor wouldn't have helped, only possibly delayed the inevitable slightly.  Unless the group is significantly more powerful than the last post of their stats, and I'm talking nearly twice as powerful, I'm surprised that encounter didn't end up in a TPK.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

> What level is the party now? I know it's much more free-form at this point, but last I heard was ECL 31, and that was with Mostin getting Psuedonatural and Spellwarped. And that seems to have bee a while ago.




At this point, technically 36 (Eadric) through 43ish (Ortwine). Mostin was around 41-42 (epic pseudonatural template but no x5 SR). This precipitated one of the periodic rebalancings at a nominal ECL 43 (at which point Mostin gets the x5 SR). I'll post the stats in the RG thread when I get the time. 



> If only Eadric had some Heavy Fortification Armor that rendered him immune to critical hits...




He did. Antimagic and _superb dispellings_ notwithstanding.


----------



## tleilaxu

here's to hoping we'll ring in 2010 w/ fumaril pt.2  

cheers, sep! thanks for all the years of enjoyment.


----------



## pogre

Awesome update as usual! Man, you make epic D&D sound not only playable but the ultimate!

Thanks for taking the time to write this!


----------



## Salthorae

Sepulchrave II said:


> He did. Antimagic and _superb dispellings_ notwithstanding.




Wow... that is terrifying!


----------



## Siuis

*Wait wait wait wait wait...*

I'm lost. Visuit, though one of my favorite villain types, is not one of the Eleven Immortals listed by Mostin. Where did she come from? I went through pages 46 - 28 in reverse order, copying and pasting her name into my 'find' bar with no luck. She just sort of appears and happens to be an evil, destructive goddes of war? I vaguely remember something about being an emmanation of Chesne, but that may just be mentally grasping at straws...

EDIT: Seems Visuit's description tells me where she came from. Must have missed that in my haste last time. She's a beast! Granted, there is that combat focus, but if that's CR 50 I'm half-glad my games end pre-epic. Scary...


----------



## Quartz

Excellent. Thank you very much, Sep.


----------



## SolitonMan

Siuis said:


> Stars and Fire, man! that was intense!
> 
> So many questions... And comments. I really need to find what stat blocks I can for the Big Guys here. I remember looking them over, but I think we may have to break down what they are capable of, just to get a good grasp of the damage being done...
> 
> What level is the party now? I know it's much more free-form at this point, but last I heard was ECL 31, and that was with Mostin getting Psuedonatural and Spellwarped. And that seems to have bee a while ago.
> 
> Also, not sure if I'm going to get the link right, but Visuit can be found here




Based on that stat block, Visuit is quite the nasty customer - if you're planning to go toe to toe against her.  But a cursory glance at her stats seems to show that she'd be at a loss if attacked by artillery with the power to punch through her defenses.  Then she could slip into the plane of shadows to escape, but I don't see how she'd attack, say, flying creatures easily.  I guess that's what the rest of the BBEGs are for...as well as the insane HP total!


----------



## Quartz

SolitonMan said:


> Based on that stat block, Visuit is quite the nasty customer - if you're planning to go toe to toe against her.  But a cursory glance at her stats seems to show that she'd be at a loss if attacked by artillery with the power to punch through her defenses.




Like a 400d20 Bludgeoning meteor? She's 'only' got 1110 HP and that'll do 4600 damage, 2300 even on a successful save for half damage. And she doesn't have Evasion, let alone Improved Evasion. Note that if she can wangle a save for quarter damage, she could survive.

Nuke 'em from orbit. It's the only way to be sure. But I wonder what Nehael might say?


----------



## Nightbreeze

She is probably fast enough to evade the meteor. There's a difference between a nimble goddess and a gargantuan, slobbering...thing. 

But then, I get the feeling that there's a sort of equilibrium in Sep's campaign, as far as epic spells are concerned. Players don't try to solve every problem with epic rituals, but when they try, for scenic purpose, Seps allows them things that break the rules a little bit.


----------



## Siuis

SolitonMan said:


> Based on that stat block, Visuit is quite the nasty customer - if you're planning to go toe to toe against her.  But a cursory glance at her stats seems to show that she'd be at a loss if attacked by artillery with the power to punch through her defenses.  Then she could slip into the plane of shadows to escape, but I don't see how she'd attack, say, flying creatures easily.  I guess that's what the rest of the BBEGs are for...as well as the insane HP total!




That's a good point. I have a partic'lar DM who I play with out of desperation, who just sort of gives random powers to overcome challenges whenever I do something clever to a Big Bad. Guess I'm too used to that...

Given that Visuit had to be levitated over a _Wall of Force_ by the demilich Choach, I can easily see how flying or artillery would work. Mulissu seems to have made a tactical error, as blasting huge conjurations into Visuit's pelt may have delayed the inevitable death of Eadric. Or, Choach could have obliterated the lot of them. One of the two 



Quartz said:


> Like a 400d20 Bludgeoning meteor? She's 'only' got 1110 HP and that'll do 4600 damage, 2300 even on a successful save for half damage. And she doesn't have Evasion, let alone Improved Evasion. Note that if she can wangle a save for quarter damage, she could survive.
> 
> Nuke 'em from orbit. It's the only way to be sure. But I wonder what Nehael might say?




I too am pretty sure that the meteor doesn't work like your typical spell effect (instant damage). Best guess is, Nwm was laser-guiding a balisitc missile. He found one, revved its engine, calculated Shvar-chyoriatis location at time of impact, and sent it there. With a war goddess, capable of retreating through the planes (or just taking a running jump out of the way, a-la action movie style) it just wouldn't work.

Now, an orbital nuke which spread upon entering orbit, and wrought high damage, massive area destruction in the heart of the cheshnite sect and obliterated the cabals which power their spells... I know that, of all the weird and eccentric defense spells I had powered at all times, preventing an epic _Punch in the Face_ was not something I had considered. maybe that would work...


----------



## grodog

Any chance to relieve the suspense with a weekend update, Sep?


----------



## Siuis

Second the motion. It'd be a great birthday gift. Heh.


----------



## The Forsaken One

**bumphammered**


----------



## Noir

spring bump!


----------



## Nightbreeze

Halt!
Bump time.


----------



## mo

bump!


----------



## grodog

Sep---

I had a question for you that I don't recall being asked during the 9 (?) years you've been sharing Wyre with us:  when the original moment of Despina's/Naheal's repentance came to a crux during play, was that moment something you had been building toward and planning for all along, or did it arise spontaneously from the role-playing of the encounter itself?  

If it was planned, did you envision the far-reaching consequences of how it might change the nature of the entire campaign (and its cosmos!) too, or did that sort of creep up on you as things continued to unfold during game play?


----------



## catastrophic

This is before my time and I might be wrong but IIRC the original post he made about the campaign was when he asked for advice about the situation- starting with somethng like "the paladin in my campaign wants to redeem a succubus".


----------



## grodog

catastrophic said:


> This is before my time and I might be wrong but IIRC the original post he made about the campaign was when he asked for advice about the situation- starting with somethng like "the paladin in my campaign wants to redeem a succubus".




I re-read the first posts @ http://www.enworld.org/forum/story-hour/58227-tales-wyre-12-25-09-update.html and I didn't come away with any sense of how the original situation started, per se.  Sep stated that 



			
				Sep in 1st post said:
			
		

> One of the PCs, a 14th level Paladin, the prized possession of its player for 10 years or so (he was converted from 2E), is currently attempting to CONVERT a succubus, and demonstrate to her the error of her ways.
> The demoness, sent as an envoy from a certain fiend whom the Paladin had previously offended, was charged with the mission of corrupting the character.




But that's an after-action summary vs. stating who (player vs. DM) first saw the chance to redeem herself, in the moment of the game.  Given Sep's rat-bastardly DM prowess, I'm tending to think that he concocted the whole situation ahead of time, but either way I'm curious where the original impetus originated


----------



## Cheiromancer

IIRC, the party had thwarted a plot of Graz'zt's before- some plot involving a Nalfeshnee and... maybe a construction project of some sort?  A disguised Nalfeshnee building a church? I don't remember. Anyway, the party foiled the plot, and Graz'zt responded by sending a succubus to seduce and/or corrupt Eadric. When the deception was uncovered I have the impression that Sep didn't want things to be wrapped up tidily, with a short little combat. So he shifted the ground to an alignment puzzle involving justice and mercy. Eadric had to decide whether his paladinhood required him to deliver summary punishment to a fiend, or else to grant it the opportunity to show genuine repentance. Was it all a demonic ploy, or would Nehael actually return to Oronthon's grace?

I'd be interested in learning when Sepulchrave decided to make the situation a justice/mercy puzzle. I suspect it was from the outset. But I think it was Nwm's player who came up with a third option for Nehael, that of converting to worship of the Goddess. Just one of those unexpected moments in gameplay when a DM decides to go with a player's suggestion. But it's the unfolding of this event that continues to have ramifications: the Viridity, the transformation of the Adversary, etc..  

I don't really "get" the Viridity. I get the pseudo-medieval Catholicism feel of the original cosmology. The Buddhist flavor of Saizhan struck me as incongruous at first, but I've gotten used to the mashup of it with Oronthonianism. The deep astrological grounding of the cosmological conflict between the Chesnites and the good guys (revolving around aspects of Scorpio) I sort of get. But the business with the Trees?  That I'm still trying to wrap my mind around.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

grodog said:
			
		

> when the original moment of Despina's/Naheal's repentance came to a crux during play, was that moment something you had been building toward and planning for all along, or did it arise spontaneously from the role-playing of the encounter itself?




Actually,



			
				Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> IIRC...




Cheiro's pretty much on the money. When Despina made her original plea, I had no idea at that point whether it was genuine or a subterfuge.

It was Nwm's intervention with Nehael which shifted the notion of the cosmology from static to dynamic and made a number of religious syncretisms possible (and necessary); or revealed them as already existing.

There is a danger of overidentifying the Viridity with the Tree; Viridity is much bigger, Tree is merely the vehicle which Nehael "chose" because of her particular attachment to it. The Viridity is fundamentally concerned with the irrepressibility of life; really it is only after it becomes established, that death is transcended wholesale. Nwm's (overtly political) killing and subsequent resurrection of Tramst demonstrates this best; Marc (Eadric's player) mentioned that he felt much more comfortable about Eadric dying after the _Sela_ already had.

Nehael is construed as _Faheth_ (Supreme Empathy) in the Urgic-Oronthonian worldview, one of the three qualities of the "Consciousness-Form" of Oronthon, or the Mind of God - the others being _Sela_ (Perfect Gnostic Intellect) and _Saizhan_ itself (Unclouded Apprehension).

There is actually some further explanation (obfuscation?) pending in the next post, but time has been hard to find recently. I'll try to get it out before Passover/Eostre.


----------



## tleilaxu

doh, thought it was an update!

look forward to it, sep (as always)


----------



## Siuis

Neat! Not only some exposition but also appetizer for more... Like Pavlov's bells 

I must confess to a sense of change in the story. The most recent-ish parts have had a crazy sense of urgency. Everyone is on edge, and doing grand things at breakneck speed... Are your players feeling this same sense of rush? Or is it the inevitable combination of good writing and exponentially high power levels?


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Between*



Aeon.

_Wyrm?_ Eadric wonders. Not so much by its shape; dimension is not, in fact, a concept which is altogether appropriate. Nor by its nature, a notion which is entirely moot. It is made of and contains all color. Potentiality focused at a single point, awaiting time to commence. It is poised upon the interstices Between.

Even it has a shadow. The never-realized; that-which-cannot-be. An Apparition.

Eadric turns his thoughts to the World. Within Finitude, a torrent of Flames has already descended in anticipation of the Aeon. They are hidden, save those few which might reveal themselves to the blessed or the mad. In his mind, Eadric smiles. Despite his protestations to the contrary, Nwm had invoked the Sun-God. An inpouring of light and fire; a divine immanence carried by those resurrected at the Reversal. What exactly did the Preceptor expect? 

The Urn. The Moment. The Spell. The Flame. One thrice-transcended? Thrice-fallen? Thrice reborn; or remade?

Nehael? Soneillon? Teppu? Ortwin(e)? Hummaz? _Mostin_?

If Wyre survives, the Illuminated of Morne and their descendants will dominate history for fifty millennia. 

In Dream, Darkness moves; Carasch prepares to assail the Viridescent Seraphim.

Moment. It must be at an appropriate moment.

The Dragon coils around the Tree.

There is an awareness that this perspective is impossible, and Eadric returns to Finitude. 

Reality commences.


**
**


"Fumaril is not built to withstand conventional siege," Mulissu explained, "much less _earthquakes_ and goristros. Visuit can and must press the attack; she may petition for more magical help – possibly another immortal, or more than one. Yeshe has yet to gather the ritual power of her cabals; even if her reservoir is dry, she is not toothless.

"When this storm blows out, I will not conjure another; nor will the _Paling_ go up again. I lack further patience for these delaying tactics. Mostin has therefore devised a plan…"

Waide groaned. "Are you now the charismatic face of Mostin's deranged schemes?"

"Precisely," Mulissu smiled. 

"I am nervous around deities," Tozinak sniffed. 

"Our advantage is in versatility," Mostin's entrance, although flamboyant in his own eyes, was accompanied by such a distortion of normality in the senses of those others present that it caused heads to spin and stomachs to heave.

"We can adapt our strategy much more effectively than they," the Alienist continued. "We have greater spell resources. We have regained the prescient edge. They have outmoded spellcasting techniques and their repertoire is limited. Choach is gone again, for a while; Yeshe is exhausted. Guho is recovered, and still potent, _but she is only one_."

"As has been said, Visuit must press on. I foresee that Rishih will join them, but under duress. The Cheshnite leadership is fragmenting; or rather, the illusion of unity is finally being dispelled. Powerful warlords who are effectively vassals of K—laan—la. Those few demons which remain – by few I mean few thousand – are the last of their kind. We may not see their like again. We should consider preserving some specimens.

"But I digress. Ladies and gentlemen, _imprisonments_ and _disjunctions_ are your friends. Sonics – if available to you – are good friends. Transmutations are of limited utility; _time stops_, yes! Necromancies and enchantments, useless.

"We will approach _mind blanked_ and under _superior invisibility_…"

"This strategy did not work for Eadric," Jalael observed.

"Visuit is less likely to experience abject nausea when we approach her," Mostin said sagely.

"How much of this did you learn from Soneillon, and at what cost?" Jalael's irritation was apparent.

"Much. And none to you. If I may continue? _Prismatic walls_ and spheres… "

[Mulissu]: Enough speak! Whether you invoke her or no, her gaze is turned upon us again.

[Daunton]: It matters not. As has been pointed out to me, we are all figments of Mostin's imagination in any case.


**


Ortwine galloped northwest upon _Narh_ through Nizkur Forest. Eadric's steed bore her faster than she could _wind walk_; the trees parted for the sidhe as she rode. Blood and ichor still clung to her and caked her hair; her cloak was a billowing shadow, distorting perception around her.

Her course led her toward Kinthei and the Tree. Her instinct cautiously probed those tracts to the west of her as she rode; the limits of Hummaz's realm, if such notions as _limit_ meant anything to the enigmatic fey.

Abruptly, shadow passed across her mind; a vast, dark fire impinging on her consciousness at a distance of a mile. Ortwine cursed, and veered east, spurring _Narh_ to an incredible pace. Too slow. The shape hurtled towards her with uncanny speed, and within three seconds had manifested itself directly in front of her; a raging inferno of black flames surrounding a great, sinuous wyrm. Qematiel.

The forest ignited. The fire burned her and Ortwine drew _Heedless_, but backed up upon _Narh_. "I am about the Tree's business. You would be ill-advised to thwart me."

With such power and confidence did the sidhe speak, that the wyrm paused uncertainly. Then she remembered her mission.

"My, you are a suave one. Do not attribute your continued existence to anything other than my whimsy," Qematiel smiled wickedly, displaying many hundred teeth. 

Inwardly, Ortwine sighed. This fact was undeniable.

Her aura extinguished itself and the dragon assumed the shape of a female devil of not-inconsiderable allure. She held a tiny hazel twig, barely longer than a splinter, between thumb and forefinger; she proffered it to the sidhe with an arched eyebrow.

Ortwine looked sceptical. "I am generally reluctant to accept gifts from powerful entities with opaque agendas."

Qematiel smiled again; in diabolic form, the expression seemed even more malign. 

"I don't believe I gave you a choice," the wyrm said. "And the Hazel certainly hasn't."

"What is it?" Ortwine took the twig in a resigned fashion. She screamed as it buried itself into her left palm.

"Power," Qematiel replied.


**


He is a boy of ten again, standing in the courtyard of the keep below the Steeple. His father tosses him the sword. He feels its weight in his hands.

"It is too heavy," Eadric complains.

"They need to feed you more meat and less scripture in the Temple," his father says without sympathy. "The men of Kyrtill's clan are large; hence we use large swords. Be about you!"

Orm is sitting nearby. He jeers.

"Shut up!" The boy shouts. "You're just jealous because they wouldn't take you."

"I was," Orm admits calmly. "Now I am relieved. I do not require a syllabus censored by the Inquisition."

"Father?" Eadric pleads.

"As I love you both, shut up and learn how to fight. This is eminently practical advice: if you are dead, you are of no use to anyone." 


**


"Where is Nwm?" Ortwine inquired.

"He has not returned yet," Nehael answered. "He is assessing the situation from a different perspective before he commits. You wear Hazel's mark; that may have been a rash promise of fealty."

"I am confused, and my fealty – which is to myself – has not changed. What does the dragon have to do with this?"

Teppu sighed. "She is a useful agent." 

"A useful agent for whom? For Hazel? Or for the Tree? For you? For Hummaz?"

"This has yet to be demonstrated," Teppu conceded. "She is also a liability; Kaalaanala now plots to break Hazel's spell on her and unleash the wyrm's destructive potential. Which is considerable."

"Many balances have been struck," Nehael sat upon the ground. "Energy has become diffuse. This is natural."

"Mine has not," Ortwine said dismissively. "What of Hummaz? Have you made contact with him?"

"No," Nehael shook her head. "And I would advise you likewise avoid him. If we are fortunate, he may revel blissfully for a thousand years before he awakens one morning in a bad mood. Or he may stub his toe whilst chasing a nymph, and become enraged. These things are hard to predict. Nonetheless, I feel a certain maternity toward him; it is hard to explain."

"Adopting the Adversary is a bold undertaking," Ortwine said drily. "I'm not persuaded that his new clothes will fit to his liking."

"You would know better than I," Nehael nodded. "You demonstrate many convergences."

Ortwine scowled.

"What is your purpose here, Ortwine?' Nehael sighed. Even her intuition could not penetrate the sidhe's motivation.

"I have come to ask for your help."

"I have no authority beyond Nizkur," Nehael shook her head.

"No, but you have great _power_ beyond Nizkur. In any event, I require your intercession not your intervention: Kaalaanala sees everything which transpires in Fumaril. A Tree could veil us…"

"There is no scion there; a _ludja_ feels protective only toward its scions."

"Hence I require your intercession. If…"

Nehael held up her hand. "I will do what I can."

She _communed_ momentarily.

"The answer is no," Nehael said plainly.

"But…"

"No," Nehael repeated. "Neither Oak, not Elm nor Ash will lend you aid, as you now bear Hazel's mark. In other words, Hazel has pre-empted your efforts; you must petition it directly."

"But Hazel is in Hell."

"You are marked. You need merely invoke her by name. A votive offering to a scion would place you in better standing."

"And where might I find a Hazel scion?" Ortwine asked, exasperated.

"Unless you wish to enter the realm of Hummaz, the only one is in the gardens of the Wyrish Academy. Shomei's abode."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised," Ortwine said. "And I'm sure the wizards will be thrilled. Is this _ludja_ feminine or neuter? You have implied both."

"It is not masculine," Nehael nodded. 

"And when do I receive this _power_ that I am promised? The wyrm was vague."

"It is already bestowed. In the Forest, you must fight left-handed."

Ortwine narrowed her eyes. "This is an odd restriction." She moved to draw her weapon, but froze involuntarily.

"No!" Nehael hissed. A celadon light flared around her. "Not here. You will not unsheath that _thing_ here. This is a holy place."

The Image of Uedii. The sidhe's façade collapsed entirely, and she backed away, her countenance full of righteous dread. 

Her opacity suddenly made utterly transparent, Ortwine wavered, turned, and fled.

When she reached _Narh_, the sidhe encountered Nehael again. The goddess stood before the great horse, which nuzzled her affectionately. Her palm was offered outward;  her expression was benign.

"Kindly step aside," Ortwine said. She still shook.

"You will need a _votive offering_," Nehael emphasized.  

"I have something in mind," Ortwine said through gritted teeth. 

"I am what I am, and you must decide how you relate to that. Your insecurities are your own." 

Nehael vanished.


**


Eadric sat beneath the Yew in _Saizhan_. Viridescent devas surrounded him. He experienced a subtle tugging: Lai and Mesikammi were beckoning him to return, and he merely need reach out and touch the gnarled trunk…

He felt their entreaty, but did not act upon it.

He watched as Tramst, the _Sela_, quietly approached and sat opposite. There was a long silence.

Eadric breathed deeply – a chill, forest-mountain air scented with resin – and looked into the _Sela_'s face.

"I have seen a little of what you see," Eadric finally said dubiously. "If only for a moment, or was it an eternity? I marvel that Tramst – who is a fragile vessel – can contain the magnitude of the _Sela_, although this truth is also somehow quite mundane. I am conflicted. I should return, of course. But this is a fine spot; the light is of a perfect, blended quality. The air is crisp and clear."

Tramst laughed. "This is your Heaven; are you surprised that you like it?"

"Not entirely. _Sela_, I cannot overcome Visuit. Twice, I've faced her now. She is beyond me."

"Yet overcome her you must," Tramst nodded. "And Kaalaanala also. Visuit is but a minor test. Observe."

A light sprang into being within the _Sela_'s palm. At first, it seemed perfect and undivided, but on closer inspection, differentiation existed – or at least Eadric inferred as much. Motes whirled about in a cloud; around each mote, yet more motes span, and around them, yet more. The light shone upon the face of the _Sela_ – a visage both empty and complete.

"Radiance illuminates Mind," Tramst smiled. "And Mind reflects upon Radiance. But what is behind me?"

Oblivion. A terror so complete and all-consuming that Eadric's thought was utterly paralyzed. He teetered on the brink of annihilation.

"Look beyond Nothingness," the _Sela_ said calmly.

The Darkness called to him. He could not rest his gaze there.

The _Sela_ sighed. "_Beyond_, not _into_. Stare not at Apparitions of Demogorgon; merely practice _Saizhan_. Tools I offer you. How many motes do you see?"

They span wildly. To observe one was to lose its identity to perception. A grand cosmic uncertainty.

"Seven," Eadric replied. "And seven times seven unnumbered times." His knowledge was oblique, but the intuition certain.

"You may choose two."

Slowly, an action which itself seemed aeons long, the _Sela_ moved his hand toward him; Eadric stared into the maelstrom of light – for such it had become – until it overwhelmed him entirely. It asserted _ens_ with such ferocity that it threatened to extinguish all other notions of being. Its magnitude was unguessably vast. It _was_ Magnitude.

Silence.

"Which did you choose?" The _Sela_ asked wrily. As though he might not know.

"_This_ and _That_," Eadric laughed.

"They are called _Fultum_ and _Anto_," the _Sela_ nodded. "Or Steadfastness and Wrath; or Vigilance and Requite; or Succour and Renewal. You choose well. Share these meditations with those whom you trust and who might understand. Look now beyond Unbeing. What do you See?"

Eadric wept. The Void shone.

"Thus," the _Sela_ smiled. He held Eadric's head in his hands and breathed gently.

The _Ahma_ entered him.

He awoke beneath the Yew beside the Great Fane in Morne.

"You took your time," Nwm said. 

The Preceptor watched silently as a vast, aquiline shape receded towards a setting Sun.


*


In the gathering dark, _Narh_ walked steadily through the wide grounds of the Academy southwest of Morne. Ortwine's eyes moved suspiciously; any number of the trees there possessed a rudimentary sentience, and most were malign. Now a far more sinister Intelligence – that of a Hazel scion – held banyans, viper trees and night twists in thrall away from the main trail. Ortwine scowled. The Hazel itself was remaining elusive. She knew she was being toyed with.

A familiar sensation came upon the sidhe, the quality of which was reminiscent of a prior incarnation. Ahead of her, the barest rumour of a path had appeared, winding its way through dense briars. She drew _Heedless_ and progressed cautiously, at first upon _Narh_, and then – due to some internal impulse which she felt obligated to heed – on foot. Through the foliage, a light flickered through the gloam. Ortwine wrapped her cloak around her and moved towards it, silent and unseen.

It was a stone cottage – a _coppicer_'s cottage, of all things, as evidenced by a number of tools which rested neatly against the wall by its open door. Outside, a lone devil of thoughtful and melancholic aspect sat upon a stool carving a slender hazel switch. He was in a state of deep concentration, and seemed oblivious to the sidhe's presence. Despite her efforts, Ortwine's deific sense could not reach within the structure itself. Unperceived, the sidhe slipped past the devil and entered.

Ortwine raised an invisible eyebrow. In seeming contradiction to the Tree's limitation on such spatial manipulation, it was larger within than without, and scrolls and codices crowded shelves upon the walls. Stacks of tomes reached the ceiling; in places, there was barely room to move. Ancient books. Forbidden books. Books bound in the hides of unknown creatures, and whispering secrets best left untold. Accursed books. Thousands of them. Through dark doorways, stairs led up or down: to rooms filled with yet more books. 

She moved towards a space where a pair of plush chairs flanked a large hearth, within which a fire crackled merrily. In a large wicker basket, neatly stacked, half a stère of cut hazel. Hints of cinnamon hung within the air; on a small table by the fireside, an unstoppered bottle of _kschiff_ stood.

Above the mantlepiece, framed within crystal, was a large parchment of impossible antiquity bearing one hundred and sixty-nine signatures. Below the names – Infernal appellations which themselves made the sidhe's head reel – the Empyreal seal, as borne by Enitharmon himself. Below that, an empty rune which held no meaning; it could not, in fact, be said to exist beyond the context of the document itself. The endorsement of Oronthon's Nameless Adversary. The Accord.

"Take a seat," Shomei's voice reached her from a nearby room. "Have a drink. I'll be with you in a moment."

Ortwine glanced around.

"Check the small cabinet," Shomei added. "I have several bottles of Loquai vintage, liberated from Menicau's estate should you prefer."

Ortwine relaxed. She loathed the taste of _kschiff_ and found its particular psychotropic effects disagreed with her. 

Shomei the Infernal appeared presently. She smiled, poured herself a generous goblet of liquor, and sank into one of the chairs. Ortwine regarded her closely; upon her forehead, Shomei bore a faint mark not unlike that which ratified the document above the mantle.

"You have become a devil," Ortwine observed.

"Of sorts," Shomei nodded.

"And I suspect that you have a particular relationship with the Hazel which is germane to my current situation," Ortwine added. "What is this place?"

"A concursion," Shomei said carefully. "You are already within Hazel's domain. The coppice itself is behind the cottage."

"You have…permission…to cut wood? _Hazel's_ wood?"

"Will must be tended, lest it become unfocused," Shomei the Infernal nodded.

"Then you are in thrall?"

"No. The arrangement is reciprocal. I am Exempt."

"Then you are paid for your work?" Ortwine asked slyly.

Shomei laughed, and gestured. "Look around you!"

"Books?"

Shomei narrowed her eyes, and lifted a large, weighty volume from a stack nearby. She handed it to the sidhe, who wiped grime and dust from its cover to read its title in the ancient Infernal tongue:

_Two Hundred Discourses on the Nature of Depravity_

"This particular volume was scribed by a devil named Enaia," Shomei explained. "Her seductive accomplishments rival those of the most notorious of succubi. Alas, she is no more; her subterfuge was unmasked by diviners sixteen epochs past: she was bound in _dimensional shackles_, and buried in a silver salt, gathered from the shores of a celestial ocean."

Ortwine cast her gaze through the dark doorways nearby which led to other chambers. "You have sequestered a portion of Hell's library?"

"I have sequestered the _entirety_ of Hell's library," Shomei the Infernal smiled. 

Ortwine looked dubious. "Moving countless million books would seem the occupation of many lifetimes. I assume that certain planar boundaries have been redrawn?"

"From this perspective," Shomei nodded. "Hell as it was is no more. It has been ejected from the continuum, so to speak. Forced Outside, or retreated into Dream might be alternate descriptors, were one inclined to view things in such a way. In any event, its influence will no longer be felt as directly. I have preserved its legacy and its wisdom. A quartet of great once-devils remain within what was Avernus, but which is now a great forest dominated by two of the darker _ludjas_."

"And these once-devils – which are now presumably Green – fill which roles in this new continuum?"

"That will depend on the Aeon," Shomei poured herself another goblet of _kschiff_.

"Then devils have become a scarce commodity."

"Not so scarce," the Infernalist smiled. "Merely transformed. And Azazel's legions wisely removed themselves and placed themselves under Holly's protection."

Ortwine's hackles rose.

"You are wise to fear Holly," Shomei nodded. She was becoming inebriated: apparently _kschiff_ retained its potency with regard to her diabolic metabolism. "She is quite the bitch. The Kings of the Four Quarters, now Four Kings amid the Thickets: this movement was inevitable, even as the Adversary migrated. In a prior reality they were also of He; before a Fall which now never happened. Perhaps half of his Regents in the Undivided Sphere: the half which fell, even as half perished altogether? Each of the others lost one; sixty-four became forty-nine. This was necessary. The _I_ is necessary to _ens_. For Radiance to penetrate beyond _Tamasah_."

The sidhe barely followed her. "And what is beyond _Tamasah?_"

"Truth," Shomei smiled lazily.

"And what might that be?"

Shomei laughed heartily. "Ask the _Ahma_, for he has seen it. I care not for the Unmanifest, Ortwine. Hence, I do not practice _Saizhan_."

The sidhe-goddess sighed and raised her glass. "I'll drink to that."

"You may leave both rod and talisman when you depart. I will ensure they are buried at Hazel's roots."

Ortwine scowled. Sibud's talisman, she had marked for an offering; Pazuzu's rod she had intended for Mesikammi.

Shomei raised an unsympathetic eyebrow. "Will is bought dearly."

*

Six hundred miles to the south, as the Wizards of Wyre made their preparations within Mulissu's throne room, Mostin noticed a subtle but irresistible reorganizaton of intangible membranes around Fumaril. 

Saint Tahl the Incorruptible – recently _resurrected_ by Lai, and who led a number of Flamines in meditation and vigil – felt the oppressive presence of Kaalaanala's scrutiny depart from his consciousness. It was immediately replaced by a cold, steely focus, which seemed barely less malign.

In Jashat, fires erupted in violence and anger, annihilating the priests who tended the altars. The _Bhiti_'s perception had been forced into retreat.





_Next: Fumaril Part 2._


----------



## Moleculo

Another wonderful update. Thanks Sep!


----------



## grodog

Huzzah!  Thanks Sep!


----------



## tleilaxu

woohoo!


----------



## Salthorae

This story is "quickly" getting beyond my ability to comprehend on a philisophical level... but I still enjoy it much! Thanks as always Sep!


----------



## Cheiromancer

The stuff that Shomei said when she was drunk on kschiff - I don't entirely grasp it either.  There was some numerological speculation in the Character thread (Eadric and his friends) that has some bearing on this passage.  That thread also gives the definition of a few of the obscure words.  Others were introduced previously in the story-hour.

Sep- the dragon is the coming Aeon, correct?  What is the currently ruling Aeon? 

I remember the old song about the dawning of the age of Aquarius- it turns out that the previous age was Pisces.  The dragon is a symbol of Scorpio, correct?  Does that mean the preceding Aeon is one that is associated with Sagittarius?


----------



## tleilaxu

my interpretation:



> Perhaps half of his Regents in the Undivided Sphere: the half which fell, even as half perished altogether?




Referencing the Adversary/Hummaz. The undivided sphere being the World, the half in the World being Hummaz' servitors IE those released from Shvar Choryati (representing that which had been extinguished). The other half being former devils: shomei speculates that on some level the souls now serving Hummaz were those devils which were destroyed during the revolt from heaven (which now never happened).



> Each of the others lost one; sixty-four became forty-nine.




referencing sep's numerical scheme of DvRs as references in  the 'Eadric n' Friends' thread. 64 being 8 x 8, 49 being 7 x 7. There are 7 aspects of oronthon (light, majesty, purity, wisdom, succour, bliss & wrath) with the adversary hypothesized as the 8th entity of this order.



> This was necessary. The I is necessary to ens. For Radiance to penetrate beyond Tamasah."




shomei gives a sort of irrenite interpretation of this: a dialectic or duality, a seperation of a 'being' from the 'world', is necessary for the creative (sui generis) aspect of oronthon to make reality out of void, overcome death, oblivion, maintain the firmament, etc etc.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> The stuff that Shomei said when she was drunk on kschiff - I don't entirely grasp it either.




Well, she was drunk...

Shomei is speculating that if the Adversary is (or was) originally of the Sovereign order - i.e. an emanation of Oronthon - then each of the eight (original) Sovereignties would logically have 8 Regents (reflections or avatars), and that the Kings of the Four Quarters in Avernus (Amaimon, Urien, Paimon and Ariton) are (or were) his surviving Regents.

With regard to the seven 'regular' Sovereignties (those listed by tleilaxu), absolute differentiation between the Sovereignties and their Regents (and Oronthon) is meaningless. Because the nature of the Adversary is fundamentally to individuate, however, it makes sense (if you are Shomei, and drunk on _kschiff_) that the Adversary's Regents would also individuate (or perish).

The 'Undivided Sphere' is the hypothetical identity of Oronthon and Unbeing "prior" to Oronthon's self-emanation, and Shomei would assert that by self-emanating, Oronthon is in fact laying the way for the Adversary to rebel; that the Adversary is in fact the most authentic manifestation of Oronthon by nature of simple self-identity (_I am_). This is an Irrenite argument.

The Unmanifest (that which is beyond all ontological speculation) lies past this. This is ultimately the target of _Saizhan_. Shomei does not deny its Truth, but she has no particular interest in it; Shomei is rather anti-mystical.

Er, does that make sense?



> Sep- the dragon is the coming Aeon, correct? What is the currently ruling Aeon?




They are both Pharamne (as are all Aeons). It's kind of complicated. Yes, it's a wyrm, but not Qematiel - although Qematiel presages it some way. Mechanically, this Pharamne happens to be a Perfected DvR20 great prismatic wyrm with 5 virtual age categories and 100 cleric levels.



> The dragon is a symbol of Scorpio, correct? Does that mean the preceding Aeon is one that is associated with Sagittarius?




I have never entertained this idea, but apparently, yes. The Jovian tendency to organized religion would give way to Plutonic upheaval and the assimilation of notions of annihilation.

This might place Wyre around 71,000 years ago (as I see no Illuminated amongst us). Perhaps Eadric's vision of fifty millennia was 2 great years - 51,500 years.

Thinking about it, I'd be even more inclined to put Wyre 122,000 years ago in the Riss-Würm interglacial; this would coincide with Temenun's memory of the preceding glacial period, i.e. 4 3/4 great years ago.

Coincidentally, Riss-Würm also translates as "Rupture-Dragon" in German...


----------



## tleilaxu

Sepulchrave II said:


> The 'Undivided Sphere' is the hypothetical identity of Oronthon and Unbeing "prior" to Oronthon's self-emanation




this is where my interpretation diverged, as i thought the undivided sphere was a reference to the World/Qinthei/Prime Material/whatever.

love how the philosophy has developed over the years, and eagerly await fumaril pt.2


----------



## Cheiromancer

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> I have never entertained this idea, but apparently, yes. The Jovian tendency to organized religion would give way to Plutonic upheaval and the assimilation of notions of annihilation.




Dunno about Pluto- it's not even a planet!  But the classical assignment of Mars to Scorpio should work for destruction.  I thought the organized religion part of Jupiter was in Pisces, rather than Sagittarius.  But like I said, I don't know much astrology.

Thanks for the explanation.  It clears lots of stuff up.


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## Sepulchrave II

> I thought the organized religion part of Jupiter was in Pisces, rather than Sagittarius.




Fair point about the signs; I tend to view things in terms of planetary archetypes rather than Zodiacal ones. Fortunately, astrology is sufficiently vague and nebulous for it to mean anything you like.



> Dunno about Pluto- it's not even a planet!




No, but it remains a potent symbol. The fact that it is now recognized as just a ball of dirty ice and sh*t from the Kuiper belt actually makes more sense to me in many ways, although I'm sure many astrologers are all worried about it. 

Maybe Cheshne lives in the Oort cloud.


----------



## Gidien

Just want to say thanks once more, Sep. Fantastic update. The only reason I still come to EN World, actually, is to check on this story hour, which I've been following for years... *Eagerly awaits the next installment*


----------



## Knightfall

Wow. I think my IQ just went up a point after reading that update.


----------



## Antithetist

Thanks for the clarifications - and, indeed, for all the quality updates over the years (I've been lurking around for a long time, I figured it was past due that I drop by and share my appreciation). This Story Hour stands out to me as the single most engaging and endlessly inspiring piece of fantasy literature I've ever read. In fact the rigour, sensitivity and intelligence with which it treats its ideas puts the majority (the _vast_ majority, actually) of academic scholarship to shame. For a record of a D&D game, that sure ain't bad.


----------



## grodog

Le bump!


----------



## grodog

Cinco de Mayo bump.


----------



## Erevanden

*By the power of Castle Greyskull !! !! BUMP !!*


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## grodog

Erevanden said:


> *By the power of Castle Greyskull !! !! BUMP !!*




Not Greyhawk?


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

It's from the He-Man show.


----------



## grodog

Memorial Day Weekend bump!  (Where's Horacio??).


----------



## Horacio

grodog said:


> Memorial Day Weekend bump!  (Where's Horacio??).




Here !

Let's bump it, folks


----------



## Salthorae

From the ashes of time there comes a hero, whose bumping skills will see us through to a new golden age of updates... Horacio!

EDIT: What I really wanted to post:

From days of long ago,
From uncharted regions
Of the universe,
Comes a legend.
The legend of Horacio:
Defender of the Bumpiverse!
A mighty robot (? could be...),
Loved by good,
Feared by evil.

As Horacio's legend grew,
Peace settled across the galaxy.
On Planet Earth,
A Wyre Alliance was formed.
Together with the good posters
Of the message boards,
They maintained peace
Throughout the Wyre Tales,
Until a new horrible menace
Threatened the galaxy (no updates *gasp*).

Horacio was needed once more.
This is the story
Of a super force of bumping madness.
Specially trained,
And sent by the Alliance,
To bring back Updates:
Entertainment of the Universe!


[sblock=French Open Spoiler]Updates are all I have left to look forward to right now since Federer just went down in the French QF...sigh[/sblock]


----------



## Siuis

Wait, what?!
Horacio actually exists?! I mean, i've read to liturgy, I've heard the stories... But, you're honestly real? Wow. 
Everything I've come to believe has just been proven true. The songs are not sung in vain...
Also bump.


----------



## Horacio

Siuis said:


> Wait, what?!
> Horacio actually exists?! I mean, i've read to liturgy, I've heard the stories... But, you're honestly real? Wow.
> Everything I've come to believe has just been proven true. The songs are not sung in vain...
> Also bump.




When the tired knight came back home, he found that a whole legend had been built around his old adventures. 

The tales of his exploits had been exaggerated, his deeds had been rewritten to made them heroic, his supposed prowess had been decoupled, his very existence was doubted by those to rational to believe the myth.

But he was just a man, a tired warrior coming back after a long exile.  And he discovered that a true warrior wouldn't never be able to put down the weapons. 

Because he had been called again, and like hundreds of times before, he answered. 

And he cried BUMP !



Salthorae said:


> From the ashes of time there comes a hero, whose bumping skills will see us through to a new golden age of updates... Horacio!
> 
> EDIT: What I really wanted to post:
> 
> From days of long ago,
> From uncharted regions
> Of the universe,
> Comes a legend.
> The legend of Horacio:
> Defender of the Bumpiverse!
> A mighty robot (? could be...),
> Loved by good,
> Feared by evil.
> 
> As Horacio's legend grew,
> Peace settled across the galaxy.
> On Planet Earth,
> A Wyre Alliance was formed.
> Together with the good posters
> Of the message boards,
> They maintained peace
> Throughout the Wyre Tales,
> Until a new horrible menace
> Threatened the galaxy (no updates *gasp*).
> 
> Horacio was needed once more.
> This is the story
> Of a super force of bumping madness.
> Specially trained,
> And sent by the Alliance,
> To bring back Updates:
> Entertainment of the Universe!
> 
> 
> [sblock=French Open Spoiler]Updates are all I have left to look forward to right now since Federer just went down in the French QF...sigh[/sblock]




Hey, thanks ! That was really nice


----------



## grodog

Post-NTXRPGCon bump!


----------



## Rackhir

Horacio said:


> When the tired knight came back home, he found that a whole legend had been built around his old adventures.
> 
> The tales of his exploits had been exaggerated, his deeds had been rewritten to made them heroic, his supposed prowess had been decoupled, his very existence was doubted by those to rational to believe the myth.
> 
> But he was just a man, a tired warrior coming back after a long exile.  And he discovered that a true warrior wouldn't never be able to put down the weapons.
> 
> Because he had been called again, and like hundreds of times before, he answered.
> 
> And he cried BUMP !
> 
> 
> Hey, thanks ! That was really nice




Hey Horacio. Long time no see. I do remember fondly the days of your bumping Sep's thread to get him to post what happened after his initial post.


----------



## tleilaxu

saizho.

no more dissection. let it be.

thank you!


----------



## grodog

*le bump*


----------



## Jhereth Jax

Bump!

I've been a longtime lurker who stumbled across this thread and have enjoyed it immensely. The writing is great, the characters are compelling, and the high level play boggles my mind.

Well done and thank you.

Please come back and share with us what happens next...


----------



## Erevanden

It seems Sepulchrave was consumed utterly and without remorse by his RL...


----------



## Siuis

He'll cut his way out. Heck, if we're lucky he'll make the grapple check and crawl back up into RL's mouth, and from there it's all about avoiding the bite attacks and the improved grab.

Sorry, been brushing up on the swallow whole rules-set...


----------



## grodog

Mid-July bump?


----------



## grodog

End of July bump


----------



## the Jester

Erevanden said:


> It seems Sepulchrave was consumed utterly and without remorse by his RL...




We've had far worse dry spells.


----------



## grodog

Indeed!  

GenCon bump!


----------



## Camris

Remember the very first one?

LADY DESPINAS VIRTUE
One of the PCs, a 14th level Paladin, the prized possession of its player for 10 years or so (he was converted from 2E), is currently attempting to CONVERT a succubus, and demonstrate to her the error of her ways...


----------



## Camris

*Remember the very first one?*

Remember...



Sepulchrave said:


> LADY DESPINAS VIRTUE
> I have an interesting moral dilemma currently occurring in my game, both from an in-character and a meta- perspective.
> 
> One of the PCs, a 14th level Paladin, the prized possession of its player for 10 years or so (he was converted from 2E), is currently attempting to CONVERT a succubus, and demonstrate to her the error of her ways.
> The demoness, sent as an envoy from a certain fiend whom the Paladin had previously offended, was charged with the mission of corrupting the character.
> 
> Now, the Paladin is your typical high-chivalry pageants-and-tourneys type, embodying the ideals of courtly life. He is fair-minded, just, merciful, chaste and so forth.
> 
> The Demoness, warded by an amulet of undetectable alignment, has insinuated herself into the retinue of a certain Duchess, posing as the daughter of a minor noble with a fine pedigree, with various letters of recommendation. She has been posing as a guileless, naiive and hugely compassionate handmaiden who is strikingly beautiful. The Paladin was instantly smitten -in a chaste way, of course- and has been carrying her token while he jousts.
> 
> Having sought her out (and she proved very elusive), the Paladin has been recently courting her, and spending much time with her (reciting poetry, singing ballads etc.- he has a very fair perform skill). To his delight, he has found the lady to be highly intelligent, well-versed in metaphysics and deeply spiritual. They have spent many hours engaged in wide-ranging philosophical debate and found that they only differed in their opinions on a few minor points (heheheh...)
> 
> However, in the last session, following leads that our hero might be being duped, the deception was revealed. The Paladin drew his weapon and prepared to smite the evil thing.
> 
> The demoness sat demurely and began to weep, begging for his mercy and saying yes she had been sent here to corrupt him and yes that was her original intention but that he'd begun to CHANGE her, and if only he'd give her a chance that she'd prove that she'd overcome her evil ways.
> The Paladin, to his credit, didn't buy any of that and thought it was a crock. He raised his sword again, preparing to send her back to the Abyss, expecting her to retaliate. Still, she sat, motionless, and lowered her head.
> Suddenly, the Player was overcome with doubt. What if she IS redeemable? Are demons forever damned? Is there an ounce of potential for her to be anything other than Chaotic Evil - after all demons DEFINE what evil is. And now, another dilemma besets him: if he kills her, here, in cold blood with this doubt in his mind has she WON? Does the very act of slaying her WHILE HE HAS DOUBTS mean that he has contravened his alignment, and is corrupted?
> ...


----------



## Joshua Randall

Best... story teaser... evar....


----------



## EroGaki

Say, when was the title of this story hour changed?


----------



## Darkrok

Simply an amazing story so far.  I stumbled here from a link on the DDO forums last week and have been reading every spare second since then.  The quality of the story rivals any other fantasy work I've ever read...would love to see this published someday!


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Fumaril: Part 2*


Within a fortified palace of marble and serpentine – which the demilich Idyam had caused to rise between Jashat and Thond – three powerful Cheshnite immortals gathered together: Idyam himself; the Ak'Chazar, Temenun; and Naatha, an ambassador of the now firmly-entrenched northern party. Godlings, Death Knights, Naztharunes and compacted fiends were gathered nearby. Many legions were encamped about them. 

The topic of debate was strategy on the largest scale, including the pressing question of _how to deal with Kaalaanala_, which was necessarily addressed obliquely. None of the immortals had been directly suborned by the Dark Goddess, and her terrible will could not act directly _on_ them as they were beyond the geographical limit imposed by the Tree. Nonetheless, the concern which consumed each was _how do I react if she summons me?_ In this, it was desirable to seek consensus. Hours passed as a variety of strategems were outlined. Throughout, Temenun listened, but did not speak.

Finally, the Tiger-Who-Waits stood, and silence fell. His tone was at once contemptuous and magnetic. His position, bordering on heretical and schismatic. He smiled.

"I am an ancient spirit, not like you others: corrupt abominations, skeletons, demons, sad remnants of former selves. I am noble and cruel; born of fear and hatred. And I know the Green. I am _of this world_. 

"I see possibilities you do not; I apprehend truths you barely glimpse. This is fact; to deny it would be futile. We must position ourselves carefully in this emerging disorder if we are to realize _Tamasah_.

"The Fires of Death abide in Jashat now. Through diligence, we have helped accomplish this task. A great _Bhiti_ dwells among us. And what now? Should we turn our attention to breaking this net which the Tree has cast between us and the Truth? I am patient. We should admit that some tasks are beyond our ability to immediately accomplish.

"Another spirit arises in the Forest. Some monstrous priapic expression of _Aliikaghana_* which acts only from instinct to satisfy its immediate desires. Again, it is demonstrated that _ens_ merely hinders its own devices. We should avoid premature conflict with this entity at all costs; if an understanding can be reached which will hasten the downfall of the Wyrish theocracy, so much the better.  

"Our sister Guho strikes compacts with the _avanim_; necessity now forces our hand. Powerful _analas_ move within Dream, but I foresee a stalemate with those celestials in thrall to the Tree. Other agencies are now moving.

"Which brings us to an impasse…" Temenun paused. Impulses were intruding on his unconscious. His prescience rippled through a host of Nows.

Incredulity.

_No! How DARE you!_

His message, carried on a _sending_, reached the Claviger's unruffled perception.


**


Bells rang within the palace compound at Fumaril, signalling another invisible dawn beneath the _Pall of Dhatri_. 

The _Ahma_ stood with Nwm and Lai upon a tall minaret, staring into the gloom. The Butcher's main force had still to deploy, although spectres, outriders and flights of succubi – acting in the capacity of aerial scouts – had been encountered by his own piquets in an area of low hills ten miles to the east.  Eadric watched nervously as Mostin floated upwards from the courtyard below and alighted before them.

"What is keeping them?" The _Ahma_ inquired.

"I can only infer," Mostin replied. "Visuit's mote is coming into sharp resonance with that of the Dark Goddess. As the latter cannot act substantively beyond a certain area, this probably means that the Butcher has returned to Jashat temporarily."

"By which you infer what, exactly?"

"Kaalaanala is warding her champion," Nwm replied.

"That would be my reading," Mostin nodded.

"Sh*t," Eadric muttered.

"That would also be my reading," Mostin concurred. 

"How long before she rejoins her army?" Nwm asked.

"An hour? Two at most." The Alienist shrugged. "I am assuming she will try to _wind walk_ back to her encampment. Mulissu can make the weather uncomfortable and may be able to pin her down for a while. But if more Dao nobility have been co-opted, she may go…_earthy_…and be there in an instant." The word _earthy_ was pronounced with considerable distaste.

Eadric pondered for a moment before issuing a silent mental command. A quartet of devas appeared presently.

"Muster all of the celestials, all of the Flamines, and any amongst the Templars and the Illuminated who are already in harness. Nwm, I need everyone _flying, wind walking, mind blanked, invisible_ and warded against _blasphemies_ and the consumptive attacks of undead. We are making a sortie. We have thirty minutes."

Nwm sighed.

Eadric considered briefly. "As soon as we break out beyond the limit of the Tree's ward, Kaalaanala will perceive us; at that point Visuit will rush back from Jashat, assuming she is not already _en route_. The goddess will inform those in the camp of our imminent arrival – I am assuming Yeshe will be in command."

Ortwine, who was apparently with them but _invisible_, whispered softly.

Nwm – sensitive to such sudden changes – immediately scowled suspiciously. He looked around, attempting to pinpoint the fey. "How did you do that?"

Ortwine allowed herself to manifest and looked vaguely puzzled. "Do what?"

"She invoked the Hazel-_ludja_," Mostin seemed distracted by some elusive thought. "This is substantially to our advantage."

Ortwine felt irked that Mostin knew of her activities, but remained outwardly calm.

"Would you care to explain?" The _Ahma_ asked. "But swiftly. Time is not now best spent in idle conversation."

"Kaala-anala is effectively blind," Nwm replied. "Hazel just suffocated her divine vision in a number of different locations, including the Cheshnite camp ahead."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. What is the cost, Ortwine?"

"Potent artifacts seem to work just fine," the sidhe replied drily. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"I have none," Nwm smiled. "You are an agent of the Tree. If _you_ find you have a problem, then I offer my counselling services. I understand these matters far better than you."

"I doubt it."

"You have debts yet to pay to Mesikammi," Nwm sighed.

"My High Priestess trusts in my capacity to deliver benefactions."

The _Ahma_ unbuckled _Lukarn_ and handed it to Nwm. "Let's try this again."

"You have high expectations for a thirty minute window," the Preceptor grumbled and departed.

Eadric inquired gingerly. "I assume a fully warded Visuit is likely to be invulnerable?"

"Not if we can drop a couple of big ones on her," the Alienist replied. 

[Nwm]: Mostin. Mulissu. Tozinak. Jalael. Daunton. Waide. Get down here now. I need your reservoirs: everything else is empty.

"This better work," the Alienist scowled.

[Hlioth]: Snap! Snap!

[Mostin]: That's all we need.


**

**


Gihaahia, the Enforcer of the Great Injunction, stood within a low chamber. It was the _sanctum sanctorum_ of Wyrish Wizardry, the abode of the Claviger: that mysterious entity which governed the moral conduct of Wyre's arcanists. Before her, the great slab bearing the Articles: itself a gateway connecting the Claviger's awareness to the primal Dream of which it was an aspect. A Dream of Magic.

The Infernal was waiting. The Claviger meditated, its processes isometric with rational thought. It had been dreaming Spells.

It was absorbed in a particular, nightmarish substrate; one of those several which comprised the impending confrontation between Carasch and the Viridescent Seraphim. After an indeterminable time, the Claviger finally emoted an aesthetic appreciation which caused a frisson of excitement in Gihaahia.

Quickly, the Claviger reconfigured the Enforcer and transposed her into the dreamscape, asserting a hegemony which threw the chthonics into violent rages and discomfited the episemes.

The Claviger cast the Spell, and quickly retreated into an idle waking fantasy. 

Manipulating unconscious vestiges emanated by every dormant mind from Harland to Ardan, as far south as the blight which afflicted the Thalassine, the Claviger swiftly span a new dream, using magic of tremendous power. A net which might have encapsulated an area far greater than that of the Wyrish Injunction had its real dimensions been spatial. 

In Nizkur, Hummaz – abruptly subject to the superimposition – grunted in his wine-soaked sleep. Nymphs nearby became suddenly histrionic.

The Claviger emoted surprise. Carasch, alone of the chthonics, had somehow eluded the dream-lure and had incorporated himself into the new substrate. The hypoabyssal connection was maintained.

_*Do not presume. I yet Dream*_

The thought – directed from beyond the Veils – almost erased the Claviger in its intensity.


**


The Collegiate Wizards corporeated briefly in the darkness as the Temple forces flowed around them like a swift breeze. The Alienist reached out with his thoughts to contact an unseen spy high above the Cheshnite camp.

[Mostin]: Well?

[Ortwine]: I believe Visuit is still absent. The _Anantam_ are gathered [here] and [here], but they are few. Guho is [here]. There are _many_ of the _Keshaa-Dirghaa_ [here]. Spectres and wraiths move around the periphery in unguessable numbers; they appear as a screen of fog.

[Eadric]: Where is Yeshe?

[Ortwine]: I would guess within the focal _utterdark_. There are other defensive magics. They are potent.

[Mostin]: Show me.

[Ortwine]: [These].

[Mulissu]: Transvalents. Ortwine, do not enter the presidio.

[Mostin]: [_Moment of Prescience_]. They are four-hundredth order. As soon as we pass the screen, we will be precipitated out of _wind walking_ and all our wards will be collapsed. 

[Nwm]: I can bring them down. It will leave only one for Visuit.

[Mostin]: Two would be better.

[Eadric]: Then we strike fast and eliminate Yeshe, Guho and as many of the magi as we can. Then we get the Hell out, and worry about Visuit later.

[Ortwine]: I believe Rishih to be [here]. And more _Anantam_.

[Eadric]: That complicates matters.

[Ortwine]: Leave him to me.

[Hlioth]: Three immortals will perish today. I will not be one of them.

[Ortwine]: Thanks for that.

[Mostin]: We have to take Visuit.

[Eadric + Nwm + Ortwine]: …..?

[Mostin]: We must. She won't be getting any weaker from here on in. Her wards will last for months, and may become compounded. Kaalaanala will just keep augmenting her.


**


In the _Garden of Mind_, in the fortress recently appropriated from the daemon Tholhaluk, Soneillon awoke to physicality, sank into a throne of flesh, and considered.

Events were not transpiring to her liking. Energies were moving too subtly to comprehend. Her prescience had grown; her understanding of _formlessness_ deepened. But not enough.

She considered her essential inessence.

Tendrils of impossibility reinforced her now; her emptiness might be seen to writhe with a palpable insanity. Old paradoxes had crumbled away. She was the Void in which the _Urn_ was hid. But whether Soneillon dreamed or woke, or became another Nothing or a mad parody thereof, she might not act within the world without the permission of some _other_. In so doing, she would necessarily compromise her position unfavorably.

And Soneillon pondered a question: Why had Kaalaanala not stripped her of the _Urn_ when she had manifested _ex nihilo_? She must have known of it; how could she have failed to apprehend its presence and significance in an instant? How could she not _want_ it, having known of it? Had she chosen to let it remain with Soneillon for some other purpose? Did she fear it?

Or was the _Urn_ somehow inscrutable to the Fires of Death? 

The exiled queen of Throile pulled the jug from its hiding place on her person, and felt its weight. 

_You serve only to neuter me_, she directed her resentment toward the vessel. It seemed to observe her impassively.

She would have to make a choice. An alliance. Concessions. Carasch was too dangerous; Vhorzhe too mad; the Cherry too unpredictable – its agenda was utterly opaque to her. It seemed to want the _Urn_. Or her.

Briefly – and ironically – Soneillon considered that Graz'zt's counsel would have been useful.

A sound like thunder, echoing through a million imaginings.

The ripples in Dream were subsiding when the magnitude of the Claviger's act became apparent to her. Squabbling seraphs and chthonics had been swept away, lost in conflict in all but the darkest of long-forgotten nightmares. The Claviger had replaced the dreamstuff with a no-less convoluted matrix of color, texture, smell and substance; of correspondences and hierarchies, symmetries and order. A new arcane rationale. To _Wizardry_, and its subset – the emergent _Wyrish High Arcanie_ – it granted an assured ascendancy.

The demoness cursed.

A whisper reached her from a distant grove: Tree's Own Shadow. Unwarded – as no magic she possessed would be effective in any event – Soneillon transported herself to what had once been Azzagrat.

The maelstroms had subsided, and matter had been reordered. A vast Blackthorn, with barbs ten inches long reared a hundred fathoms into a ruddy sky; about it, swathes of viper-trees glowered menacingly. Chthonics roosted in its upper branches.

The great _ludja_ regarded her as it might an aphid.

"I desire ingress." Soneillon announced undaunted.

Echoes rippled beyond the Veils.

The Blackthorn silently opened a path.

Soneillon appeared in the courtyard at Kyrtill's Burh, stepping from beneath what she knew must be a Scion; that tree once raised by Nwm in defiance of the chthonic threat, now serving as a tendril of the darkest of Tree's facets. As with its sibling in Jashat – the Blackthorn within the Cheshnite inner temple itself – it seemed dormant. But its sleep was more troubled, and if it would soon strive to awaken.

Clasping the _Urn_, Soneillon glanced over her shoulder. The way back was closed. And something else was here.

The demoness observed the devas patrolling the skies around the keep: they were of small magnitude, and could not perceive her. A middle-aged man – one whose  resemblance to Eadric informed Soneillon that he must be close kin – exited the door from the chapel nearby and peered in her direction.

"So what are you going to do with it?" He asked her, nodding his head towards the _Urn_.

"Ah, the heretical Brother makes a pilgrimage." Soneillon stared at him through narrowed eyes. He made her uncomfortable. "I haven't decided. But whatever it is, it has to be _in here_ and not _out there_."

"Well that much is obvious," Orm said.

"You should probably leave," Soneillon smiled. "I'm staying, and celibates are too easy. I'll be making some renovations, and inviting some friends over to play."

"I had anticipated a painful and degrading death."

"If you desire. When I have devised one suitable, I will come and find you."

"My anticipation is not wishful," Orm explained.

"Tastes differ," Soneillon shrugged. 

"What of the others within the Burh? And the village?"

"They may stay or leave, as they will," the demoness replied easily. "Let them make their own choice. They know who I am. Or they have seen me in their dreams."

"Your presence here may be less enduring than you imagine," Orm suggested.

"Ignorance!" Soneillon snapped. "I have apprehended that chapel in a Moment. Can you claim the same? Do not speak to me of tenacity, nor the length of my own shadow. Now begone!"

She issued a massive _sending_. It echoed across Wyre.

"I suggest you hasten," Soneillon added. "I cannot speak to the courtesy of my fellows. If you stumble across your anointed sibling or his friend Mostin the Metagnostic, tell him I want Graz'zt back."

Orm hurried to raise a warning and begin the evacuation of Kyrtill's Burh, Deorham, and the surrounding countryside: for those who would listen. 

Soneillon turned her eyes skyward, and solemnly regarded the celestials. Inexplicably, they darted away as though alerted to her presence.

She glowered after Orm. There had been not one iota of fear in him. She knew a Flame was with him: a visceral unease was her only inkling, as her senses were otherwise incapable of perceiving it.

_Awaken_ she willed desperately toward the Blackthorn.

It remained quiescent.

_I need allies_, she thought to herself. Soneillon watched as one of the devas _teleported_ away.

_Teleported?_ She smiled widely.

Around her, demons were appearing.


**


Mostin felt it coursing through him: first a rumour, then a vibration, and finally a roaring noise which vanished suddenly into silence.

His skin tingled. It reminded him of _Afqithan_. But more cogent; more focused.

Mulissu looked at him. "What now?"

"I think the Claviger just changed the Arcane Morphic," Mostin said. 

"The Claviger _acted_?"

"It dreamed," Hlioth replied. "It is much the same."

Another pulse, of great depth and profundity, as though in response to the first.

"What the…" Mostin's eyes widened grotesquely.

This time, Nizkur was its source. A surge of power which unlocked the Interdiction which lay across the world, finalizing boundaries. The Tree described its own limit; the cosmos reshaped itself in accordance. All was Tree. The Alienist knew that it moderated all prior infinities now: neither demon nor celestial might tread here again without passing through  it; without itself becoming Green, and other than that which it previously was. Those that were stranded here were here to stay. 

But Mostin's surprise was that the new shape permitted a path Outside. And that Outside was really _Outside_. 

From a great distance, Nehael touched his mind: _Please exercise restraint._

Mostin's response was wry. _Had I had warning, then my answer should have been "not bloody likely." Unfortunately, I did not._ 

Ahead, Nwm had materialized and was gathering the power necessary to collapse the wards which protected the Cheshnite camp.

Around them, demons were suddenly appearing, _teleporting_ as an apprehension that the lock had ended spread through their ranks.

"Things will now become confused," Mostin sighed.

"I suppose one must take the bad with the good," Mulissu remarked drily.

"Fortunately, their numbers are limited." Mostin issued a _sending_ to Sho: _Bring the Tower._ 

And then, another _sending_ to Shomei herself: _I told you my Infinity was bigger_.

Power surged as Nwm struck the defensive spells below, shattering them. The _wind walkers_ descended rapidly, materializing with lances lowered. 

In Rishih's pavillion, Ortwine cursed. The Thaumaturge had vanished, although not before the sidhe had opened his chest and belly with _Heedless_. Now she found herself surrounded by his retainers. She smiled: still, they could not see her.

Outside, the massive edifice of the _Infernal Tower_, piloted by Sho, suddenly appeared.

As _Narh_'s hooves touched the ground, Eadric unsheathed _Lukarn_ and a great light sprang forth. Wraiths and shadows turned to vapour; vampires dessicated. For a little while, the darkness of the _Pall of Dhatri_ was banished; the morning Sun shone warm upon the field. 






*The Cloud of False Wisdom. Construed as a feminine aspect of the Abominable Light.


Next: Fumaril, Part 3


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## EroGaki

!


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## Quartz

It's happy dance time!


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## Salthorae

I don't check the story ONE night, and that is the night it gets updated! 

Amazing stuff as always. Not sure if I truly comprehend all of what is going on in this post, did the Claviger just change magic in Wyre? Eadric's brother Orm has a _Flame_ accompanying him? A manifestation of Oronthon's attention and Will being directed towards something 







			
				Flames pg 48 said:
			
		

> Flames: Consciousness-emanations which exist as invisible and formless but discrete entities; if the Divine Thought turns to a particular matter, a Flame is always present. Flames are the medium through which magnification or enlightenment is bestowed or attained, and they exist in all spheres at all times. In temperament, the Flame is of singular goodness and mercy and is utterly incorruptible – the Urgics maintain that alone of all finite entities, a Flame is not subject to Fall. When it manifests, a Flame is held to most closely resemble Oronthon’s Radiant Form; certain mystics maintain that each Flame is, in fact, merely an iota or quantum of the Radiant Form.



 That should worry Soneillon more than it does I think...


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## tleilaxu

nice! i look forward to fumaril pt. 3



Salthorae said:


> Eadric's brother Orm has a _Flame_ accompanying him? A manifestation of Oronthon's attention and Will being directed towards something  That should worry Soneillon more than it does I think...





everyone with saint other similar templates have them provided by flames, so it isn't that uncommon. tahl has a flame (which resurrects him when he dies) etc etc. at least that has been my understanding.


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## Rary the Traitor

Don't take this the wrong way, I'm still a huge fan of yours, but this latest entry was mostly incomprehensible and nearly incoherent.


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## Rackhir

Rary the Traitor said:


> Don't take this the wrong way, I'm still a huge fan of yours, but this latest entry was mostly incomprehensible and nearly incoherent.




Sounds like someone hasn't been doing their meditation on _Saizhan_.


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## grodog

Sep:  I can see why this one took awhile to write!  Thanks for sharing, as always


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## Quartz

When did the title get changed?


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## Baron Opal

Rary the Traitor said:
			
		

> Don't take this the wrong way, I'm still a huge fan of yours, but this latest entry was mostly incomprehensible and nearly incoherent.




Okay, let me see if I have this right...

There are three significant areas; Shuth (South), Wyre (East), Nizkur (West).
Fumaril is closer to Shuth than the others.

The Chesnite Immortals are from Shuth.
Our heroes are from Wyre.
Nahael is residing in Nizkur.

As Nahael has been released by a proxy of Oronthon, she is free to join up with Jovol / Teppu and they kick-start the Viridity.

The Chesnites march north to spank Wyre for their temerity in removing Grazzt as well as recognizing their potential threat for the future. 

The Adversary, perhaps seeing It's theological eschaton _actually coming_, jumps ship and remanifests as Hummanz. As a Dionysian entity bound to a different theology / philosophy it escapes the fortold Oronthionist end.

The Chesnites kick booty, and demonstrate the ability to call up frightful beings of annialation.

The Wyrish heroes can kick booty as well, and demonstrate the utility of falling bolides against extra-cosmic horrors.

The Chesnites, having their concerns turn to fears, call up some demon lords and a god. The god picks one of the Immortals as her champion (Visuit) and gives her a boost.

Visuit throws Eadric and Nwm around like ragdolls. Mostin leaps into his tower to clean his robes. Ortwine escapes with the bodies.

The Wyrish heroes regroup, say _"Damn! Need a better plan!"_. They plot.

Various personages (Ortwine, Shomei, Sonellion) attempt to deal with scions of the Tree in Nizkur. It has now spread throught the known planes with different manifestations. It is noted that the Tree is weak in Dream.

Well, it is a _tree_, after all.

The Wyrish heroes have their plan. As they get ready to use everything they have to hammer Visuit into the ground like a tent peg, the rules change.

The Claviger says "no Cthonics on my plane!" Casarach back-slaps the Calviger and says "except me, and don't make me come over there."

Casarach's ... fellow cthonic (?) ... Chesne could not be reached for comment.

The Tree says "any Outsiders coming to or leaving my plane have to join my side!" The huge numbers of demons already on the plane are discomfited. The angels don't like it either. The Claviger pouts.

Mostin notices that Far Realm entities have a way around this. As Nahael asks for restraint, Mostin laments being to busy to abuse the privilege.

The Wyrish heroes decide to initiate Operation Tent-Peg regardless, since nobody probably knows what the real meaning of all of these extra-planar, theological, philosophical permutations really are. But, the Chesnites don't like it one bit, so the Wyrish are happy to adapt.

Dreamtime still seems to be a back-door to reality. But, Teppu is there, so we're okay.


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## Salthorae

I think that about sums it up as I understand it too Baron Opal... mind boogling


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## ajanders

Baron Opal said:


> Okay, let me see if I have this right...
> 
> There are three significant areas; Shuth (South), Wyre (East), Nizkur (West).
> Fumaril is closer to Shuth than the others.




I think Nizkur is a separate plane, an alternate Prime (?) with a heavy Green bent. Nehael and Nwm travel/manifest between the two using Tree.
(I think Tree is an aspect of Green.)

Rary. Sep's game has transcended D&D for a while now: I know stats exist for most of these things, but I don't think they really matter. This is no longer a D&D game: it's a theological/ontological debate. With swords. Just treat it like Pilgrim's Progress -- and you may want to read the last episode.


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## Cheiromancer

Well, the heart of the story is about whether a succubus can repent. Can a creature of pure evil freely and voluntarily change her ways?  Ultimately, the story is about how far can a person can change. How they can become what they choose to be.

The angels of Oronthon's heaven are not really individuals. They are submissive to the objective moral reality of Oronthon's will to such an extent that they are truly and literally self-less.

The Adversary understands what could be- thus, he grasps something that is not. He tries to realize one such possibility; what is not becomes, through intellect and will, something that is. But in rejecting what is, he has also lost his own nature; the Adversary is nameless. Many, many angels follow the Adversary in rebellion. They fall; they gain their individuality, but do great violence to their own natures.

Some of these fallen angels reject the trade-off. They reject both the submissive attitude of the celestial host, and the self-creation of the Adversary's followers. Perhaps they reject any system that requires such a trade-off; why should Hell be a consequence of individuality? They revolt against creation itself. These are the demons; the twice-fallen. 

The polar opposite of Oronthon appears in the paradigm; annihilation itself, not a thing among other things, but something that is striven for, something which is reflected among the fallen, and especially the twice-fallen. Thought and language struggles to express this reification of non-being, but perhaps it is enough to say "Nothing Becomes." 

The other meaning, of course, is that all is simultaneous and actual, fully real, in the mind of Oronthon. Change is illusion; it is not the case that anything becomes. That's the other meaning of "Nothing Becomes."

Which is primary and most fundamental; being, or non-being? Light or darkness?  This is fundamentally the quarrel between Oronthonian and Chesnite. The Oronthonian will say that in the beginning there was light; the Chesnite says that the light appeared in darkness, and so is posterior to it and dependent upon it.

But there is another complication; the Green. Neither stasis nor destruction, but the cycles of becoming. Nehael does not convert within the Oronthonian paradigm, nor yet the Chesnite. A druid converts her. She steps outside the paradigm. What is the Green?  What is its extent?  What is there that is not natural?  Even in our own time one might reject the difference between natural and artificial by observing that humans are also part of nature; anything we do, therefore, is natural. The new paradigm is opaque to the Adversary; to grasp it, he must embrace it, and, losing his self, regain a name. Hell follows in his wake. The Trees manifest fully.

Orthodox Oronthonian theology cannot embrace the Green. It is rejected as paganism. Heretics see the Green as the feminine aspect of Oronthon. In the era of saizhan, where heresy is impossible, who can say? To the Chesnite, the Green is the "Cloud of False Wisdom."  The feminine aspect of the Abominable Light that is Oronthon. Under the guidance of the Sela, Oronthonianism begins to expand. But can their opposites do the same? Can a Chesnite embrace Saizhan?

Wizardly magic is yet another complication. Integral to it is the notion of limitation. Political involvement is forbidden to wizards, and this limitation enables scholarship to to prosper and magic to flourish. Yet the temptation to meddle in the political order is irresistible; this changes the limitations under which magic operates. With the advent of the Claviger new restrictions came into being, and with it a (rather dark) Golden age of magic. It is not for nothing that the binding of demons is the quintessentially wizardly act. I have no idea what the new paradigm of wizardly magic consists in, but I suspect that at its heart is limitation. Something forbidden, but irresistible. And I suspect the forbidden element is related to what is Outside. The insane; what cannot be, as opposed to what is or what is not.

The Green can include the Oronthonian/Chesnite dialectic. But not, I think, the madness that is Outside.  Can Dream?  I am not sure. At some level of thesis/antithesis/synthesis it seems as if the self is lost, and the question of how a succubus - how anyone- can choose against its own nature, is unasked.


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## Shieldhaven

I, for one, very much appreciate the re-stating of ideas and conflicts by Baron Opal and Cheiromancer. This is tough stuff, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.  I'm also thrilled to see a new update!

Haven


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## Baron Opal

Cheiromancer said:


> Well, the heart of the story is about whether a succubus can repent. Can a creature of pure evil freely and voluntarily change her ways?  Ultimately, the story is about how far can a person can change. How they can become what they choose to be.




I agree.

It is interesting to contrast Nahael and the Adversary. It can be difficult to determine which one had a greater ability to choose their fate. That they choose similarly and that Nahael guided the Adversary towards the Green option is interesting.

Eadric has changed, as has Ortwine and Mostin. They have grown beyond how they initially defined themselves. I find Nwm's change to be more subtle. He has the benefit of changing in a way he anticipated or desired.

The Chesnites are screwed as they come across to me as exceptionally hidebound. It is understandable given the culture they have developed in. Any one of them would consume another if they had an easy chance. They will have the hardest time adapting to the new rules of the game, however.


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## Salthorae

Baron Opal said:


> They will have the hardest time adapting to the new rules of the game, however.




I'm not sure about that. 

The Oronthonian side already had to go through one paradigm shift with the advent of Saizan that merged all the formerly heretical and orthodox sects back under the umbrella of "one" over-arching method of meditation on Oronthon and his will. Will they be able to deal with the change to "Green" that everything is going through and still maintain their allegiance to Oronthon? In the short term the edict of Tree is good as it helps in the battle against the Chesnites, but ultimately will the be able to adapt? Tree has cut them off from their own god's servants, unless those servants agree to be come Tree's servants. They have even lost the main opposition point to their god in the Nameless Adversary's transit to Hummaz, now there is no Person for the Eschaton to focus on, nor a jailer for those who opposed the divine Oronthonian will. 

Wyrish wizards have had one paradigm shift to work through with the creation of the Clavgier and Enforcer. I'm not sure what the Clavgier just did, but I'm sure they'll be ok.

Those of the Viridecence that seems to be sweeping the universe ARE one of the major forces of change taking place. They are subsuming many of the fallen servants of Oronthon, Nahael being the first, but with Tree enforcing its will across the planes, there will be many more shifts than have already taken place. 

The Chesnites are in an interesting situation, as they hadn't experienced their first real paradigm shift until Tree acted in the most recent post. I think they, in the long term, will be able to adapt better than the Oronthonian side as the viridescence to them would simply be another route to power and there are definitely ludjas who are more inclined to their bent who would be willing to help them adapt. 

Admittedly there is Yew in the heavens of Oronthon as Eadric saw when he visited briefly recently, and Yew would have as much an interest in helping the Oronthonians adapt as any other Ludja. 

I'm just trying to figure out what Oronthon is doing or thinking in allowing Tree to "steal" his servants and his adversary, wondering when Oronthon will flex his divine Will in this dynamic situation.


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## Baron Opal

Salthorae said:


> The Oronthonian side already had to go through one paradigm shift with the advent of Saizan that merged all the formerly heretical and orthodox sects back under the umbrella of "one" over-arching method of meditation on Oronthon and his will. Will they be able to deal with the change to "Green" that everything is going through and still maintain their allegiance to Oronthon?
> 
> I'm just trying to figure out what Oronthon is doing or thinking in allowing Tree to "steal" his servants and his adversary, wondering when Oronthon will flex his divine Will in this dynamic situation.



I imagine that it will depend greatly on what Tramst and Eadric say to the laity.

If I remember correctly, Tramst is the Sela, the Voice of God, and Eadric is ... Something, the Breath of God. While Eadric has been fairly hesitant on preaching any dogma, its been documented that people have been watching him and following his lead. Tramst has been pretty inscrutible, leading through koan and parable. This leaves Eadric as probably the most approachable and comprehendable religious figure.

To me, Oronthon is allowing people the opportunity to have a faith that can be mystical (saizan) or one that focusses on the Now (Viridity) as well as their traditional monotheism. Wasn't it Eintharmon Thrice Magnified who waltzed into Nahael's prison, healed her and brought her to the Tree? This process seems to have been initiated by Deity rather than other powers. 

I don't think anyone _knows_ that, however, except us the readers.

Even so, the PCs seem to be willing to "play by the rules", whether it is for their benefit (Ortwine, Mostin) or society's (Eadric, Nwm). The Chesnite Immortals seem to have a disdain for "the rules" and opted for tying themselves to a power that by definition breaks or obviates the rules (cthonics).

You know, how is the Tree's edict going to effect Ortwine when she tries to return to Afqithan or her new pantheon's plane? "Faerie" as a power or realm has only barely been touched on it seems. We know a heck of a lot more about Hell or Dream than we do about Faerie. Hmm...


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## tleilaxu

Baron Opal said:


> Wasn't it Eintharmon Thrice Magnified who waltzed into Nahael's prison, healed her and brought her to the Tree?




rintrah rescued nehael in accordance with a 'particularly difficult' meditation of the sela. enitharmon 'three times thrice' magnified kicked the adversary out of heaven. if memory serves, it was all so long ago...


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## Olive

Baron Opal said:


> Okay, let me see if I have this right...




Your mission, should you accept it, is to provide such synopses for all the updates from here on in (and ideally all the updates in the last year or so...) Well done man! 



Cheiromancer said:


> Some of these fallen angels reject the trade-off. They reject both the submissive attitude of the celestial host, and the self-creation of the Adversary's followers. Perhaps they reject any system that requires such a trade-off; why should Hell be a consequence of individuality? They revolt against creation itself. These are the demons; the twice-fallen.
> 
> The polar opposite of Oronthon appears in the paradigm; annihilation itself, not a thing among other things, but something that is striven for, something which is reflected among the fallen, and especially the twice-fallen. Thought and language struggles to express this reification of non-being, but perhaps it is enough to say "Nothing Becomes."




This is true in the story but raises another issue - why was Hell (and the Abyss) the consequence of the claiming of individuality? Who not some alternate heaven? In other words, why was individuality corruption?

I suspect because Sep is working (or was working) within the paradigm of D&D and back when this was really all about the redemption of a succubus the issues involved were fairly standard D&D tropes. All of this has grown out of old Lady Despina after all. and then influences by Milton etc etc.

But if this were a brand new world, not from D&D what would the Angles look like if claiming individuality wasn't equated to a Fall?


----------



## Baron Opal

Olive said:


> Well done man!
> 
> This is true in the story but raises another issue - why was Hell (and the Abyss) the consequence of the claiming of individuality? Who not some alternate heaven? In other words, why was individuality corruption?




Thank you. 

It occurs to me that Nahael is "thrice-fallen". Although I think that is applied to the cthonics, she has rebelled against her paradigm three times: against Oronthion, the Adversary and the Abyss. Now, she's with the Green and seemingly content.

Is Sonellion so content? I think not.


----------



## Siuis

Olive said:
			
		

> But if this were a brand new world, not from D&D what would the Angles look like if claiming individuality wasn't equated to a Fall?




I doubt that Angels seeking individuality can be anything BUT a fall, if only because that's how creation was set up. 

A Fall is the rejection of Oronthon's will. 
In accordance with His will, the angels were selfless. 
Therefore, seeking to individuate is to Fall, because Falling was made part of the very definition of individuating, if only from the angelic perspective. 

It doesn't even matter if the angels originally wanted individuation; you can replace that with anything and it still functions as a paradigm. For example;

A Fall is the rejection of Oronthon's will. 
In accordance with His will, the angels were (lactose intolerant). 
Therefore, seeking to (digest lactose) is to Fall, because Falling was made part of the very definition of (enjoying dairy), if only from the angelic perspective.

Also, I can only read the title and first line of Sep's moat recent post. I'm going to go cry for a while D:


----------



## Moleculo

Olive said:


> This is true in the story but raises another issue - why was Hell (and the Abyss) the consequence of the claiming of individuality? Who not some alternate heaven? In other words, why was individuality corruption?




Isn't a rebellion against the divine being's will an instance of corruption? In a sense, the Nameless one corrupted the angels by showing them a way perpendicular to Oronthon's plan. 

More over, what space would be set aside in the mind of a nearly omnipotent being for the disobedient? If there were no consequence for breaking the divine rules, on what grounds would Oronthon's will exist?


----------



## Darkrok

Siuis said:


> A Fall is the rejection of Oronthon's will.
> In accordance with His will, the angels were (lactose intolerant).
> Therefore, seeking to (digest lactose) is to Fall, because Falling was made part of the very definition of (enjoying dairy), _if only from the angelic perspective_.




This put me in mind of the following exchange between Brey and Tramst:



Cheiromancer said:


> _Originally posted by Sepulchrave II on 04-26-2004_
> 
> ****
> 
> ****
> 
> 
> 
> *Mésalliance*
> 
> 
> 
> BREY: _Sela_, what does it mean, to 'Fall?'
> 
> TRAMST: To Fall is to reject that which you have experienced to be true,  in favour of that which you know, in your heart, to be false.
> 
> BREY: And what is truth?
> 
> TRAMST: That, unfortunately, is subjective.
> 
> BREY: Is it therefore possible for two people who share similar  experiences, to have different destinies in this regard? By virtue of  their different perspectives, may one Fall, and another not?
> 
> TRAMST: That is more common than one may at first think.
> 
> BREY: And when two irrefutable truths come into conflict? How does one then decide?
> 
> TRAMST: That, Brey, is why we practice _Saizhan_.
> 
> BREY: Hence _Saizhan_ always reveals the correct truth.
> 
> TRAMST: No, Brey. _Saizhan_ always _determines_ the correct truth. The distinction is crucial.
> 
> BREY: Should one always choose the harder truth?
> 
> TRAMST: Often this transpires to be the case, but to adopt it as a premise leads to the Adversarial paradigm, which _Saizhan_ teaches us is incomplete. Evidently, this is so, or the Adversary himself would not have Fallen.
> 
> BREY: I understand.
> 
> TRAMST: No, Brey, you do not. Which is why I am the master, and you are the student.




So for Angels whose nature is to be selfless and who experience truth in that selflessness individuation equates to a fall.  The mistake that is often made is in extending that rule to individuals other than angels.




Moleculo said:


> Isn't a rebellion against the divine being's  will an instance of corruption? In a sense, the Nameless one corrupted  the angels by showing them a way perpendicular to Oronthon's plan.
> 
> More over, what space would be set aside in the mind of a nearly  omnipotent being for the disobedient? If there were no consequence for  breaking the divine rules, on what grounds would Oronthon's will  exist?




Unless Oronthon's plan was that the Adversary should rebel, in which case the Adversary, while still falling by rejecting that which he had experienced to be true would not necessarily be acting in a way perpendicular to Oronthon's plan.


----------



## Siuis

Quite. Your explanation is great, too. I'll have to remember that. 

And isn't that what makes the Adversary a character rather than some exposition? We have Tramst, who we can empathize with, but Oronthon is sort of a background picture so we have a frame for celestials popping up. The Adversary is a really poor-off guy, rather than a background element. All he wants is to actively not be part of Oronthon's plan, and he's been screwed into having to do so-- No Matter What. I'd be vindictively evil too, just not nearly so good at it.

Edited for grammar.


----------



## Darkrok

Siuis said:


> Quite. Your explanation is great, too. I'll have to remember that.
> 
> And isn't that what makes the Adversary a character rather than some exposition? We have Tramst, who we can empathize with, but Oronthon is sort of a background picture so we have a frame for celestials popping up. The Adversary is a really poor-off guy, rather than a background element. All he wants is to actively not be part of Oronthon's plan, and he's been screwed into having to do so-- No Matter What. I'd be vindictively evil too, just not nearly so good at it.
> 
> Edited for grammar.




The only question is whether the Adversary really does not want to be a part of Oronthon's plan or not.  I love Anne Rice's treatment of the 'adversary' if you will in Menmoch the Devil.  There the devil is a willful participant in God's plan, albeit because he disagrees with the way God handles creation.  He provides an 'alternate path' to salvation.  I'm not saying that this character plays the same role but there certainly could be more to the Adversary's decision to 'go green' than simple self-preservation.


----------



## Siuis

You know, I'm not sure. Before I realized there was a distinction between Asmodeus and The Adversary, I would have said no. To much opacity ruins any chance of empathizing with a character, and it seems that empathy is somewhat called for, given the Miltonian feel.

But in all honesty, who is to say? The answer, as afact, is probably fairly inconsistent. Nwm said it himself: the Great Deceiver may be pulling one Hell of a hood-wink. And what's more, I bet the Adversary could lie so well, he believed it, making he lie a truth. Until, of course, he no longer needed or benefited from it.

Really, it's entirely possible that between Oronthon and the Nameless Seraph, the paradigm is one of children bickering at make-believe. Oronthon is older, so he will always win, but it's an eternity of "my attack pierces your armor!"
"my shield reflects your attack"
"my attack was a distraction from this other attack"
"well I was an illusion the whole time".

Schrodinger's nightmare; every possible answer, save to most absurd, is entirely true until a nodality is reached which severs the possibility of some ... Possibilities. Hm, I need either a thesaurus handy or better sentence planning. But you see my point?


----------



## wolff96

Shieldhaven said:


> I, for one, very much appreciate the re-stating of ideas and conflicts by Baron Opal and Cheiromancer. This is tough stuff, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.  I'm also thrilled to see a new update!




Yeah, I loved the update.  

But I had to read it three or four times to grasp what was going on...  and even then I missed a few bits and pieces.  Baron Opal and Cheiromancer did a really great job of summarizing and condensing the whole argument and even pointed out a few things I missed.

I always feel like I'm sitting in on a philosophy class when this story hour updates...  I love it.


----------



## Darkrok

Siuis said:


> You know, I'm not sure. Before I realized there was a distinction between Asmodeus and The Adversary, I would have said no. To much opacity ruins any chance of empathizing with a character, and it seems that empathy is somewhat called for, given the Miltonian feel.
> 
> But in all honesty, who is to say? The answer, as afact, is probably fairly inconsistent. Nwm said it himself: the Great Deceiver may be pulling one Hell of a hood-wink. And what's more, I bet the Adversary could lie so well, he believed it, making he lie a truth. Until, of course, he no longer needed or benefited from it.
> 
> Really, it's entirely possible that between Oronthon and the Nameless Seraph, the paradigm is one of children bickering at make-believe. Oronthon is older, so he will always win, but it's an eternity of "my attack pierces your armor!"
> "my shield reflects your attack"
> "my attack was a distraction from this other attack"
> "well I was an illusion the whole time".
> 
> Schrodinger's nightmare; every possible answer, save to most absurd, is entirely true until a nodality is reached which severs the possibility of some ... Possibilities. Hm, I need either a thesaurus handy or better sentence planning. But you see my point?




Absolutely see it...Oronthon and the Nameless Seraph are exactly like kids playing a make-believe game, only they have the power to shape reality in the process.  Oronthon always 'wins' because he can 'make-believe-create' better than the Adversary, but no one has fun at make-believe unless there's a little give and take.  I see it in my kids all the time.  Yeah, the older one shapes the reality but the younger ones add their own flavor to the story, shaping it within the structure created by the eldest.

That description would fit whether the Adversary was a willing participant with Oronthon's plans (ie he supports Oronthon's ends but not his means), an unwilling participant (he supports neither the means nor the ends but is an unwilling - though likely not unwitting hence the bitterness - tool of Oronthon), or a true enemy to the plans of Oronthon, actively attempting to thwart both Oronthon's means and ends.  Regardless of which paradigm describes their relationship they truly are playing a game of 'make-believe-create' or maybe a better wording of 'believe-make'.


----------



## Moleculo

Darkrok said:


> Absolutely see it...Oronthon and the Nameless Seraph are exactly like kids playing a make-believe game, only they have the power to shape reality in the process.




Don't forget of course that one of those kids created the others.


----------



## The Forsaken One

TOLD YOU MY INFINITY WAS BIGGER THEN YOURS!

Bwahahahahahahahaha!!!!! Brilliant xD.


----------



## Darkrok

Moleculo said:


> Don't forget of course that one of those kids created the others.




How important that is depends on who you ask, the Adversary or Oronthon.


----------



## grodog

Le bump


----------



## grodog

Oh, Horatio, Wherefore art Thou, Horacio?


----------



## Erevanden

_Give me a B,
Give me a U,
Give me an M,
Give me a P,_

Give me a B-U-M-P


----------



## sec_tcpaipm

Darkrok said:


> How important that is depends on who you ask, the Adversary or Oronthon.




Oronthon says it's neither important, nor unimportant, neither both important and unimportant nor not important and not unimportant


----------



## Darkrok

sec_tcpaipm said:


> Oronthon says it's neither important, nor unimportant, neither both important and unimportant nor not important and not unimportant




_Saizho 
_


----------



## Noir

Bump-oh-des


----------



## grodog

November bump!


----------



## grodog

Pre-Thanksgiving *BUMP*


----------



## Siuis

Ach, dammit Grodog! You're always just one bump ahead of me. Every time come to bump, there you are. You've become my own personal reoccurring sub-boss.


----------



## The Forsaken One

**rubs the lamp vigorously)*

Every year I wish this story can find a way past all rights and legal issues into the writers ambition and end up in sweet ass hardcover published works.

Best fantasy I've ever read. I said it when I read the first few installments and I can still say it with full conviction after almost a decade.

Cheers Sep and I hope you can find the time and passion to treat us fans to plenty more of your work.


----------



## Siuis

A decade? Has it really been that long?!
Yes, I started reading in highschool... And still I find myself returning.
Other stories, other worlds, rise and set like the sun and moon.
Other games come and go as the tides themselves.
Still, I return.
I return, and I sit. Here by this old many-branched tree of a forum I rest, with staff at my side. Sometimes you leave a trinket, sometimes nothing. Here a link, there a discussion.
As though you were fey, I leave bits of bread and milk in my replies, bumps. Bits of myself to keep the mystery and the romance going even a little longer.
Ten years as a dream, and here's to ten more, and ten times ten more! This small post I leave as a votive. Be it months or years, I'll come again, and smile again, to take the torch from other pilgrims and light the dreary dark between.

Thank you Sep, and to your players, and to the Enworlders who have kept the stories alive.


----------



## grodog

First December, pre-holidays bump!


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Fumaril - Part 3*


North of the _Pall of Dhatri_ stretches the march of Scir Cellod; further north still, Mord, Hethio and the Wyrish heartlands

At the junction of three wide feodalities, beneath the aegis of a Yew scion, stands Morne, the celestial city. Its resurrected craftsmen – possessed of a sudden inventiveness and aesthetic genius – are beginning to contrive works so far unrivalled in the course of human history. Teams of masons, acting in unconscious unison, work unceasingly to perfect some grand architectural design. The devout throng about the Temple courtyard; within Morne's baileys, companies of the Illuminated muster. 

It is the six-hundred and ninety-second year as measured since the foundation of Wyre upon the ruins of Old Borchia; the six-hundred and thirtieth since the consecration of the Temple in Morne; the third year of _Saizhan_. Midwinter is fast approaching, but in Wyre it is unseasonably mild, and no snow has yet fallen.

In the South, in the Thalassine, it is as warm as a late spring day. A great tract of land lies in darkness, suffocated of light by Dhatri's magic: a hemisphere of tenacious night with a diameter of two hundred miles. Beneath, vampires and phantoms rove at will. From the city of Thond, a blighted wasteland extends to Cirone, Jompa, Jashat and the walls of Fumaril, as well as a score of smaller towns and cities. Of them all, only Fumaril endures.

The Cheshnite forces are concentrated at four locations within this arena. Jashat itself is empty, save for Kaalaanala, her priesthood, and the marasmic demigoddess Jahi. Other vestiges of life have been scorched from the city; its once-abundant olive groves and peach orchards are reduced to an ashen plain. 

The largest group – the main host – is at Thond with Dhatri. Hordes of undead of diverse types accompany her; the most numerous – her crawling ghoulish minions – have scoured the city of all carrion, and begin to hunger again. 

Thirty leagues to the Northwest – at the edge of the _Pall_ – the Cheshnite vanguard is locked in an interminable skirmish with celestials, Illuminated, and Wyrish Templars. They strike or are struck, before their enemies scuttle back to Galda and the protection of the Trees. Here, the immortals Prahar, Rishih and Naatha have established a precarious alliance. Most of the remaining _Anantam_ – the blood magi once loyal to Sibud – are entrenched with them, as well as blood fiends, compacted demons, and the three thousand death knights under Prahar's command. 

Further from the front, straddling the Hynt Coched – the concourse which runs north from Jashat – are situated those legions which attend Temenun and Idyam. The demilich has erected an impregnable jade palace, and fortified an encampment about it. Armored Giants of Danhaan stand guard; the largest goristros are emplaced here. The remaining theurges and Deathshriekers accompany Idyam; unknown numbers of Naztharunes – the servants of Temenun – lurk nearby. These two immortals – most subtle amongst the Cheshnite camp – prefer a slow game. Each acts prudently, and their magical reservoirs are still largely untapped.

The last group – the smallest, most mobile, and most reckless – is led by Yeshe and Guho, and accompanies Visuit. It is bent upon the destruction of Fumaril, which has remained a thorn in the flank of Cheshnite expansion. 


**
**


Precedence amongst the spirits of the Green? Why must you impose hierarchy on everything? 

The _anime_ of the world should come first; of these, the great _ludjas_ are the foremost, and, of these, the Trees are awake and hence most relevant: _at present_. Next, those servants of the _ludjas_ which abide by their appointed Trees, or in Dream; these constitute a diverse group of sublimated entities, and I do not pretend to understand them all. Elementals are third; whether one arranges them in some particular order is rather a matter of personal taste than cosmic truth. Feys fourth – cataloguing these alone should take you several lifetimes. Fabulous beasts of no specific kind, I suppose, should be cited last: this would include griffons, unicorns, and the like.

And animals? Plants? Men? Giants? What of dragons? How wide one casts one's net is a lesson in discretion. But dragons prefer not to be categorized, and it is generally wise to respect their wishes.


**
**


Qematiel – most ancient and cunning of wyrms – powered her way through the skies above the forest. Dawn was kindling, and mist was rising from the ancient trees.

Something new was afoot. These were exciting times.

The dragon turned her gaze southwestward. Here, a distortion in space intimated at the wide extent of the range of Hummaz. Encroaching on rural Hethio, it encompassed almost all of the great southern lobe of Nizkur; five thousand square miles of enchanted forest which merged seamlessly into a wild Faerie of unguessable limit on its western bounds.

Hummaz – apparently now satisfied with the extent of his private domain – had ceased his annexation. A sixty-mile net of magic – the great central triplicty of the Oak, Ash and Elm-_ludjas_ from Nizkur – defied his power, and defined the northern interface of his sylvan realm. Here, the very air seemed to crackle with a vibrant green potency. 

Qematiel gyred gracefully and launched herself away from the mingled energies of the intersection, skirting the eaves of the forest and bearing across the green pastures and wheatfields below. Hethio was the garden of Wyre; its breadbasket, and its richest province. 

Resisting the urge to tarry and obliterate a sleepy town which nestled within a wooded vale, the wyrm rapidly approached the duchy's expansive central woodlands: here, wide tracts of deer and boar forest stood around Groba, a site of ancient power. She glanced down and hissed at a great Beech which grew there; an entry into whatever shamanic awareness Groba had once – and apparently now again – embodied. As she dived, and then sped away, the ground shuddered from her passage and a wave of sound shook leaves from trees.*

Other Trees would also be waking; with Carash lurking upon the threshold of Dream and Soneillon fully reifying – the final grounding of the Chthonic in the matrix of reality – Qematiel knew that the Blackthorn and the Cherry must perforce be next. A reign of destruction and desire would begin; her mistress, Will itself, must accommodate and direct these unfocused energies.

The city appeared in the distance, white marble basking in the early morning sunshine. A low range of hills rolling westwards from it was soon below, dotted with large estates: previously, the country villas of Morne's fashionable bourgeoisie; now monastic cells in the care of a variety of contemplative orders. Within a wide bowl, the Wyrish Academy, Hellish trees and a Hazel scion.

Qematiel plummeted, and appeared in a tumult of fire which caused the earth to shake  beneath the tiny figure of Shomei the Infernal, who stood alone, rod in hand. 

"You presume much, small one; I may not be invoked, nor invited, nor conjured." The wyrm's voice threatened death.

"I tend Will," Shomei smiled. As she spoke, a great, spiked trammel of adamant coiled onto the ground from her left hand. "And at this moment, I am it. It is time for service, and I accept no scutage. You will be my steed. Or be chained. The choice is yours." 

Qematiel raged furiously, the violence of her temper erupting as molten annihilation.

"I have no patience for this," Shomei sighed. "This is the Hazel's mandate. Cease your petulance, and retain some dignity. When your tantrum has abated, the choice will remain the same."


**


Yeshe was not unprepared when she met the onslaught of the _Ahma_, and had girded herself with powerful magic. As well as her goristros, two armored balors – maybe the last of _Baramh_'s train – still attended her; she had fortified them with spells.

To no avail. His glare dazzled her. His weapon was an incandescent blur which seemed to burn everything around it; a radiant violence committed against Void's quietude. The steed _Narh_ trampled demons and immortals in its path. Unease gripped Yeshe; the Great _Bhiti_ in Jashat was deaf to her entreaties.

Pain consumed her briefly as she struck him with a _dispelling_; her reservoir was empty and Yeshe was forced to channel the spell through her own body. It could not overcome the _Green Benediction_ and was insufficient to quell the light of _Lukarn_ by an order of magnitude; other items on the _Ahma_ and sundry wards were suppressed. Not enough. The Binder moved to speak a _word of recall_ and spirit herself to a hidden retreat south of Siir Traag in Shûth. It was too late.

Her enemy held his palm aloft and spoke a single syllable: a blasphemy of light. Her servants burned away to atoms. Yeshe was overwhelmed; blinded and deafened, she could not move her limbs.

_Goddess_, her supplication was a silent, visceral scream. _Ever have I been thy faithful servant. Now full earnest do I beseech thee!_

The entreaty echoed through the Green.


**


In Jashat, the altars burned with black fires: an essence of Nothingness contrived by Kaalaanala. 

Visuit the Butcher sat cross-legged, gazing into oblivion. Unsheathed, across her knees, that dreadful weapon which had wrought countless suffering. About her, the Fires of Death moved, formless, as a whirling maelstrom, imbuing Visuit with dark energies. Priests and supplicants chanted unceasingly.

Kaalaanala's formidable will reached out, seeking to grip the world. Trees were active everywhere, obscuring her vision. But that Yeshe's camp was under assault, the Dark Goddess had no doubt.

The flames coalesced into a tall hooded form, its visage awful and unknowable. It stood before Visuit, touching the forehead of the war-goddess to bestow some dark blessing.

The Butcher rose. With a growl, she hefted her weapon and carved open a hole in the Green, passing through into a shadowy region with eerie trees where distance and perception were twisted.


**


Mostin's mind raced. He knew they possessed a precarious advantage which might evaporate in an instant.

Prudently, he stopped time.

_Lukarn_ cast a light which illuminated the despoiled countryside for a league around; brighter than the midday sun, causing fear and consternation amongst the Cheshnite forces arrayed against them. Columns of smoke hung static in the air from conflagrations started by Mulissu's lightning; whatever primal storm the savant had tapped, its eddies were potent: demons seemed no less subject to her discharges than anything else.

With the removal – in fact, the final demarcation – of the Tree's Interdiction, extradimensional travel was again possible. But in his stomach, the Alienist knew that all methods of such movement were contained in terms which were thoroughly _Green_. If he _plane shifted_, it would necessarily be to somewhere _Green_; if he _teleported_, the medium through which he moved would be somehow _Green_. If he opened a _gate_, Mostin had no doubt that something disagreeably _Green_ would step through it.

Except for _Uzzhin_; Outside; the Other. Glancing at Nwm, the Alienist understood that the Preceptor was – in fact – now very firmly identified with the principal source of his own limitation. The struggle which had begun between them so long before might soon become unpleasant if not carefully managed. Mostin sighed. Now political necessity moved him, and he despised politics. Still, it behoved one to bargain from a position of strength, and he would pay with his own ichor if it meant asserting his continued freedom to conjure pseudonaturals.

So he made a choice. In a matter of seconds, Mostin emptied his reservoir utterly. First, he invoked a _wish_ to reconfigure his transvalent armamentarium. 

"It is time," the Alienist intoned. "Horrors will befall them."

Mostin cackled, and a huge amorphous [concept] appeared. It flailed [concepts], and more [things]. It was something more obscene than any there before – living or dead, mortal or immortal; saint, demon or celestial – had ever even imagined. Contact with its mind, if such it possessed, challenged the Alienist's already tenuous grasp on reality.

[Mostin]: Slay enemies in this order [equation]

He made a _dimension door_ to Guho's position and focused a most potent spell. She was gathering energy for a ritual. 

Time began again; reality buckled as Mostin caused to occur a sound which should not be heard. Guho – the Worm that Walks – dissociated into a combination of color, noise and more obscure elements. This time, he had struck at her _essence_; a powerful coercive impulse, unmaking her mind from the inside, dissolving the quiddity of her form. Mostin shook from the exertion; ichor dripped from his maws, and two pseudopodia caught fire.

In the space of a moment, four more temporal discontinuities passed across his consciousness; other mages using _time stops_ and unleashing deadly combinations of spells.

He turned to observe the _Ú_; the monstrosity he had conjured from beyond the Periphery of Ghom. It had set about the _Kesha-Dirghaa_ – the ritual theurges. It wrought such carnage amongst the enemy that he knew that it, and it alone, was sufficient to guarantee domination of any battlefield – barring, perhaps, the arrival of a vastly augmented Visuit. 

Many of the demons were simply vanishing. Others were fleeing as best they could. In the event, the Butcher was occupied elsewhere.


**


After Rishih had fled, Ortwine cut her way through the remains of his guard, and assumed a position near Nwm. Despite his disgust at the thing which Mostin had conjured, the Preceptor gazed in fascination as it annihilated the enemy.

A messsage reached the sidhe; sent by Rhul on the scream of a dying ancestor: the Butcher was in Mulhuk, wreaking bloody havoc. Jaliere had barricaded himself into his forge; Rhul himself had eluded her.

She looked at Nwm. Then at Lai.

The Preceptor nodded wearily, and opened a path.

[Nwm]: We are going to contain Visuit. Join us at your earliest convenience.

"What?" Eadric yelled.


*


In Nizkur, Nehael stood silently, her hand resting upon the bark of the Tree, observing a half-dozen events with her mind's eye. Soneillon had seized Deorham and demons were flocking to her; Temenun was about to embark on some venture of his own without regard to either Kaalaanala or the other immortals – or at least so Nehael surmised; the Claviger had _adjusted_ certain aspects of the underlying morphic, sending the practice of Sorcery into a generational decline; Visuit was loose in the Bole of Shades, and about to wreak havoc.

And now Yeshe made an appeal. She relayed the information in an instant to Teppu.

"It is not to you," the fey sighed. 

"Do you mind…"

He stopped time. 

Nehael continued. "Then to whom? Or what? To impotence?"

"To the Void."

"To a Goddess."

"You are considering intervention?" Teppu sighed. "I admit, sometimes your actions confound me."

"Things are simpler than you might imagine," Nehael shrugged. "In any event I do not intervene; rather, as Ortwine rightly observed, I intercede."

"And is the face you present to her your dark one? I do not believe I have seen that."

"You might find yourself less well-disposed toward me. But she will apprehend it whether I will it or no." As time recommenced, she turned pale. 

Mostin.


**
**


All was silent, and motionless.

The _Ahma_ glanced down, and saw himself nearby. _Lukarn_ was poised to strike down his foe. 

Inwardly, he scowled.

"Let me have her," it was Nehael's voice. She was here; potent. She seemed to draw on the full power of the Tree; he felt she could break the world in an instant and remake it with a thought. 

"A command?" He asked wrily.

"An entreaty. I beg mercy."

"What will you do with her?"

"Do? Nothing. I do not need to do."

"Are there others whom I should expect you to abduct to safety?"

She sighed. "A prayer was offered. What would you have me say? Do you hate her so?"

"I am the _Ahma_, not Nehael; I can hate heartily. What will _happen_ to her?"

"She will have an opportunity to reevaluate."

He had the urge to laugh. "This scene is reminiscent of more than one prior. The answer is still _yes_, I imagine. Your reasons are your own, but I am curious."

"I am invoked. Consider it restitution for your violation at Khu."

_Violation?_

"It is not a perspective you will find easy to appreciate."

"I imagine not."


**
**


Yeshe waited, powerless, as the blade descended and her enemy _smote_ her; a burning agony; black fire sprang from her helm. Her immortal body did not break, but she crumpled to her knees from the strength of his blow. Now, even her inner sight began to fail. Ancient blood flowed, and she felt her life ebb out of her.

_Prama-Adhyaapikaa, apraapya pralayah Taamaseva anuman_; Great Preceptress, if I am denied extinction permit me to persist only in the mode of Darkness.

She knew he would finish her. She fancied that she felt the wind which ran before his blade as it cut the air.

The blow never came; an eternity might have passed. 

Slowly, impressions began to form; first in her mind, then through her eyes: vague shadows. A greenish light.

A tree.

No: The Tree.

_Praartha!_ I beg you! _Taamaseva, praartha!_.

"That is denied you," a voice said firmly. "And would be in any case. You are in the Womb of Qinthei. You stand before the Tree. I am Nehael."

"You presume to judge me?" Yeshe smiled weakly as her senses returned. "Or suborn me to your cause?"

"You invoked me. I interceded: I asked the _Ahma_ to stay his blow. He indulged me. Had you died with my name on your lips, you would have been mine for a while ere I released you again into the world, or kept you here: I spared myself the dilemma. Did you not know? I am the Image of Uedii. The World is Mine."

Yeshe cursed Nehael roundly: the Binder felt her strength was quickly returning to her; this place bestowed some remarkable regenerative power.

"You are welcome," Nehael said easily. "I will not trouble you further. You may stay or go, as you please. Nothing threatens you here; more importantly, nothing is threatened by you."

The Goddess vanished from Yeshe's perception.

Yeshe stared at the Tree. 

A rustle behind her made her hurl a death spell instinctively: its power manifested as a barely audible hiss.

"That doesn't work," the voice contained an air of condescension. "Rumor has it that Oronthon's Adversary managed acorns." Its owner's hide was dry and leathery, almost wooden. As tall as a man, it might have been some forest spirit. It had restless power; Yeshe could feel it.

"What is your agenda?" Yeshe demanded.

"To dominate."

"You were Rimilin," Yeshe intuited.

"I am still very much Rimilin," Rimilin bowed with exquisite sarcasm. "Although, for a while I was not. I have acquired a new skin. I am adapting to circumstances."

_This one I can deal with_, Yeshe knew. 

"Gu-_analas_ yet abide near the Blackthorn," Rimilin ventured. "The _ludja_ will soon awaken. When it does; deeper shades of Green – more perylene – will be revealed. The Ak'Chazar knows this."

"What else?" Yeshe demanded.

"In Wyre, we have a custom regarding the exchange of information; I will forego it on this occasion, as a courtesy: the _Urn_ is here. At the _Ahma_'s principal abode in Western Trempa. Soneillon has it."

_The Urn_. "And why is Rimilin still _here?_" She asked, suspiciously.

The wizard nodded toward the Tree. "I have yet to discover a compelling reason to leave."

The Binder snorted. "You are weak. Trapped." 

"Certainly not; at least, no more than you – as you will discover. You merely need to find a compelling reason to leave."



**


The _Ahma_ watched on in horror as the _Ú_ acted upon the shattered Cheshnite ranks. It neither entirely devoured, nor tore asunder, nor engulfed those whom it touched; hideous transformations overcame some of them. His own knights recoiled from it.

A great, basso profundo noise emanated from it, flattening the enemy troops in a wide swathe for a furlong ahead. Others were routing away from it now; what had been intended – or at least, Eadric had foreseen – as a quick, hit-and-run attack, was turning into a decisive victory, and in a matter of moments.

As he offered a prayer of thanks to both Tree and Sun, an ominous shadow rolled across his mind. He glanced around. Where was Nwm? And for that matter, Ortwine?

Mostin alighted next to him in human form, but still appearing to Eadric through the _Eye of Palamabron_ as a writhing mass of tentacles. Nearby, Hlioth looked at the Alienist and his conjured servant with utter revulsion.

"Get used to it," Mostin smiled wearily. "Next time there will be three of them."

[Mazikreen]: I seek audience with the _Ahma_.

Eadric groaned. What now?


**


Queen Soneillon was occupying Kyrtill's Burh. Many hundred demons had joined her.

Eadric received the news by saying nothing, and squinting.

The succubus who brought it – Mazikreen – was alluring even by the standards of her species, and possessed a grace of movement which rivalled that of Ortwine. Eadric did not know it, but she had once herself been Queen of a dismal realm which no longer existed. Wielding wide dominion, Graz'zt had tried – and failed – to seduce her. He had bribed her with more success.

"What of Caur, and Hawi, and the others?" Eadric finally asked.

"They remain unmolested, by command of Soneillon."

The _Ahma_ examined Mazikreen's face. The Queen of Throile, he knew, played a slow game.

[Mostin]: Do not presume to understand her. She has achieved a great rapture. 

Mostin was mad; Eadric had no idea what he meant.

[Mostin]: Soneillon, not this one.

[Eadric]: I still fail to understand.

[Mostin]: There are some facts regarding Soneillon of which I have not yet had the opportunity to apprise you.

Mazikreen smiled. "Soneillon thanks the _Ahma_ for his continued hospitality. She asks me to remind him that he has always been a gracious host, and that she has always acted with restraint and decorum when lodging with him. She assures him that his servants, the townsfolk of Deorham, and the numerous pilgrims nearby are currently quite safe."

"Tell her they had better remain so," Eadric growled. "I will hold her personally responsible for every last bad dream experienced during her presence."

[Mostin]: You are willing to suffer this indignity?

[Eadric]: What choice do I have? I cannot open another front at present. And something remains unspoken.

_The Blackthorn_, he knew.


**
**


In the shades of the courtyard, hard beside the _sanctum sanctorum_ which Kaalaanala had taken to herself, a Tree stirred. A single shoot unfurled upon a slender, thorned twig. Eight hundred miles away, near Deorham, another whispered in response. At Kyrtill's Burh, the Sun seemed to dim. Standing atop the Steeple, clad in protective darkness, Soneillon stiffened and felt a frisson run through her. _At last_.

In Jashat, Kaalaanala vomited black fire. Her effluvia took form, and sped westward towards Fumaril in an orgy of fiery destruction, heedless of the limit which had previously circumscribed her.


**
**


Beneath Mostin's _Infernal Tower_, amidst the dead and striken, Eadric prepared to mount _Narh_ again. Something was encroaching at the limit of _Lukarn_'s light. It was coming from Jashat, moving at terrible speed; molten earth was being churned a thousand feet into the air above it, where it evaporated in a disintegrating fire. 

"No." Mostin guessed the _Ahma's_ intent. 

"Then what? What is it?"

"We fly," Mulissu said. "Get everyone _wind walking_. I will give the order to evacuate Fumaril."

She vanished. A number of other mages – including Daunton – took the opportunity to absent themselves.

"_Huhng_," Mostin groaned. "There are others."

"Other _whats_?"

"Effluxions. Avatars. It would appear that Kaalaanala is feeling a little less coy than previously."

"I must return to Fumaril."

"Forget Fumaril. There is no time. We go north, to Galda." 

"I will not yield Fumaril," Eadric thundered. "We return. You think of something. And where the hell are Nwm and Ortwine?"

"Not in this world," Mostin snapped. "I should have told Daunton to do an interplanar version. Alas, I cannot think of everything." He forced a calm upon himself, and spoke slowly, as though to a child. "Eadric: we have to go. Fumaril is lost. Mulissu understands this. Even if you could get there in time, you could not organize the defense; even if you could do that, it would be swept away. Eadric: _Kaalaanala's avatar_. Do you understand?"

"_Ortwine!_" The _Ahma_ screamed.

I hear your prayer. We are in Sisperi; in Mulhuk. With Visuit. Actually, a little help might be useful; her mood is terse. I have tried winning her with banter, but she does not seem amenable. Go [here].

Mostin jerked his head; a great gate in his tower opened. "Come on."

Eadric cursed. He quickly despatched devas as messengers to the garrison at Fumaril and to the main camp at Galda: respectively, _flee_ and _fortify_.

He gave the order, and a swift mist flowed inside the tower. The _Ahma_ himself was last, gazing at the torrent of dark fire as it drove down on them. As _Lukarn_ was sheathed and borne within, the light dimmed and all was again gloom and shadow.

The tower vanished.

Inside, the illumination was ruddy; a great marshalling hall beneath a lofty, vaulted ceiling. Mostin was in human form.

"I am feeling uneasy," Eadric said.

"This will be tricky," Mostin conceded. "But I have a strategy."

"And that would be?"

"We stay alive for twenty-four hours more," the Alienist replied. "Tomorrow Mostin the Metagnostic will be fully rested."

The gates of the tower swung open.

Eadric inhaled sharply. Before him, a slender Aspen reared; surely the most elegant tree he had ever seen. An exuberant joy possessed him.

"Don't get too carried away," Nwm said drily. "It isn't helping any."

"I have lost Fumaril."

"Fumaril was a feint," Nwm spoke through gritted teeth. "Visuit is here."

"Fumaril was no feint. Where is Ortwine?"

"With Lai. Attempting to draw the Butcher away from Jaliere's forge; he has sealed himself in with his smiths. Rhul is seeking aid from Saes; I do not rate his chances. Ortwine appears to be demonstrating loyalty."

A sensation impacted on Eadric's perception; then another; then another.

_Akma..kma..Akma_

"What?"

"Your priests are invoking you for protection," Nwm nodded. "I hope you don't disappoint them."

"What are my chances?"

"Dismal," Nwm smiled sympathetically.
















* Qematiel is the swiftest of all wyrms, and may be the fastest of all flying creatures (barring some pseudonatural aberrations, which might not exactly "fly"). She can move up to 7500ft in one round at full speed: Qematiel can fly about as fast as an F-16.


----------



## Rackhir

Thanks for the christmas present Sep!


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## pogre

The lengthy update is well appreciated here! Thanks.


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## omgwadh

I hoped for a holiday update and got the one gift I really wanted, Thank You so much.

As Always you have surpassed any expectation. I know this has been said many times, but you really should publish somehow someway...

I've been reading you since '02, lost my original login long ago but I'm not much for posting so doesn't matter much. 

I always try to imagine how you'll overwhelm us the next time and am always blown away by what you've done. I only hope it won't end.

I've reread the whole thing about 6 or 7 times over the years and know of nothing that truly compares.

Happy holidays


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## Noir

Thanks Sep.
Good stuff!


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## The Forsaken One

The best christmas present! I literally squeeled when I saw the update! Cheers Sep, amazing!

And lol at that wyrms speed haha, nice .


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## Quartz

Yay for the Christmas update!


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## grodog

Great update Sep!:  lots to digest here.  The passing (?) comment that "the Claviger had adjusted certain aspects of the underlying morphic, sending the practice of Sorcery into a generational decline" sounds like an alignment between rules and background.  Are sorceror's now being phased out the campaign?


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## Zelda Themelin

Thanks for chrismas present!
I have been reading your story for all these years.


----------



## Salthorae

HURRAY for update!


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## Erevanden

Ohhh yesss


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## RedTonic

Story hour updates like this are the best Christmas presents.


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## Feragh

Thank you Sepulchrave! love your work.


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## Siuis

Man excellent. 
The story is quickly getting to the point where I can't follow all the strands and threads; I have new appreciation for Mostin's comprehension of the 'motes.

I think this is the most spectacular handling of standard 2e trope play ever- the PCs have to deal with world ending evil gods. How to do so without brewing verisimilitude? Make the PCs gods themselves. The handling of the power scale seems, from my end at least, like everything any o' my DMs who've tried for an "epic story" have tried and failed at. So cheers, Sep. Not for the awesome story (though it is so) but for pulling off the vaunted dream of DMing. Epic world-shaking story, and not a single gripe about "realism" or "power scale" in sight.


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## Cheiromancer

I can't seem to find the Eadric and his friends thread. Did plots and places get merged into general? If anyone has a link, I'd appreciate it.


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## Funeris

Here you go:  Link


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## SolitonMan

"Nothing is inevitable"  -  _bumper sticker seen on Visuit's war chariot_


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## grodog

Le bump!


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## Erevanden

What is Eadric's current status ?? What about his friends and foes ?? Update, update !!


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## grodog

Bump bump bump!


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## Felix

I raise this Bump in salute to Horacio!


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## Camris

*Raises lighter*


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## carborundum

<looks at pregnant wife>
BUMP!


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## Siuis

To saint Horacio, Indeed!
*Bump*


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## Sepulchrave II

I will strive to post an update by the Vernal Equinox.

Mechanical filler follows. 

As neither the Rogue's Gallery in its original format nor the Plots and Places forums have endured, the _Eadric et al_ thread is now buried in the General forum. I feel oddly self-conscious about updating it in such a public arena, like wearing only my underpants in public; subsequent crunch will be in this thread instead.


**

**


The First Effluxion of Kaalaanala, as emanated by the goddess as the Blackthorn-_ludja_ fully awakened. It is probably best understood as Kaalaanala's manifest ire, at that particular moment directed towards the city of Fumaril.

Elementally speaking, the First Effluxion's composition might be said to be [Void] + Fire + Earth: the "earthy" component connotes a more tangible reifiction than that of Kaaalaanala herself. The _Chthonic_ (in the sub-abyssal sense) strives to become merely _chthonic_ (or _chthonian_) in the mundane or subterranean sense. This point of connection might also be presaged by some of the Cheshnites dealing with earth elementals – notably Dao. The First Effluxion is also an echo of _Gnhii_, a true _bhiti_ which embodies the same principles in a higher octave: as the First Effluxion to Kaalaanala, so _Gnhii_ to the Apparition of Cheshne.

All of Kaalaanala's "avatars" are abominations in the CR 60 to 65 range; they are also anathema from the Cheshnite viewpoint: they are a far removal from the "Purity of Void," increasingly corrupted with matter and _ens_. The Fires of Death has no rational control over the monsters which she spawns; any act of generation is actually antithetical to her nature. Still, the effluxia remain Kaalaanala, and represent unconscious urges experienced by the goddess herself, directed at substance and materiality. They exist close to the Cheshne/Uedii interface, deemed by Rimilin _perylene_: a term for "green-black" in terms of an artist's palette, but also something cancer-inducing in the chemical sense. 

I had considered making Kaalaanala's effluxia Native Outsiders, indicating that they are in some way _permitted_; in the end, I simply omitted the Extraplanar subtype, which makes their status more ambiguous. Mechanically, the First Effluxion is based on a paragon chthonic phaethon with a few added twists. Instead of the sorcerer spellcasting normally associated with chthonics, the First Effluxion gains a suite of SLAs reflecting its origin and nature, including epic SLAs approximately equivalent to unmitigated DC300 epic spells. HD are reduced to 50, in line with other paragon chthonics and the greatest exalted celestials: some kind of "limit" exists at 50HD, though I'm not quite sure what.

The First Effluxion's form is magmatic and amorphous, immersed in disintegrative fire. Any shape which it possesses is a temporary phenomenon, as it strives to retain a continuity of being: a notion inimical to its profound non-entity but required by its conditioned existence. It exceeds the largest goristro in size, and in those moments when its form appears quadrupedal and it manifests a head, its aspect is decidedly demonic. 



*First Effluxion of Kaalaanala*
Gargantuan Outsider (Abomination, Augmented, Chaotic, Chthonic, Earth, Evil, Fire)

*Hit Dice:* 50d8+1240+600 (2,250hp)
*Initiative:* +28
*Speed:* 720 ft., burrow 720 ft.
*Armor Class: *121 (-4 size, +27 deflection, +30 Dex, +12 insight, +12 luck, +34 natural; touch 97, flatfooted 91)
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +50/+123
*Attack:* Slam +108 melee (8d6+56/19-20 plus profane damage)
*Full Attack:* 8 slams +108 melee (8d6+39/19-20 plus profane damage)
*Space/Reach:* 20 ft./10 ft.
*Special Attacks:* Destructive trail, engulf, profane fiery touch, engufing overrun, spell-like abilities, improved grab, profane fire
*Special Qualities: *Blindsight 500ft., cannot be flanked, cold and light vulnerability, DR 20/epic and lawful, fast healing 25, immunities (ability damage, ability drain, blindness, critical hits, fire, form-altering attacks, mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison, sleep, stunning), regeneration 25, SR 85, telepathy 1000ft., true seeing
*Saves: *Fort +78, Ref +69, Will +69
*Abilities:* Str 83, Dex 50, Con 61, Int 31, Wis 43, Cha 64
*Skills: *Bluff +90, Climb +99, Escape Artist +83, Hide +71, Intimidate +96, Jump +375, Knowledge (arcana) +73, Knowledge (geography) +73, Knowledge (nature) +73, Knowledge (the planes) +73, Listen +81, Move Silently +83, Search +73, Sense Motive +76, Spellcraft +79, Spot +81, Survival +79, Tumble +89
*Feats:* Alertness, Cleave, Great Cleave, Great Fortitude, Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Lightning Reflexes, Power Attack, Improved Critical (slam), Improved Natural Attack (slam), Improved Sunder, Weapon Focus (slam)
*Epic Feats:* Devastating Critical (slam), Dire Charge, Epic Fortitude, Epic Will, Overwhelming Critical (slam), Superior Initiative
*Challenge Rating:* 60


The First Effluxion's natural weapons are treated as epic, chaotic and evil for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction. All fire damage dealt by the First Effluxion, regardless of source, is considered profane damage.


*Combat*

*Aura of Burning Dark (Su):* The First Effluxion radiates an aura of unlight which extends to 60 feet. Treat this as a _deeper darkness_ spell, but nonchthonic creatures within the aura automatically gain 1d4 negative levels and suffer 10d6 points of profane damage every round. Spell resistance is effective against level loss from the aura, but even creatures otherwise immune to energy drain and negative energy effects are subject to its effects: the aura acts upon _ens_ itself. The aura of burning dark may be suppressed or resumed as a free action. If dispelled, the First Effluxion may reactivate it as a free action on its next turn. Caster Level 65th, where appropriate.

*Countercommunion (Su): *Any divination effect used, or any ongoing divination effect brought within 1000 feet of the First Effluxion must succeed at an opposed caster level check in order to function. The First Effluxion is treated as a 65th-level caster for this purpose. Its own divination abiities are unaffected.

*Destructive Trail (Ex): *The First Effluxion can burrow through nonmagical earth or rock of any density as easily as it can pass across the surface of the ground; when moving at speed across a solid surface, the First Effluxion generates a wake and rain of molten matter. Whenever it moves twice its speed or more in a round, all creatures and unattended objects within 120 feet of any space through which the First Effluxion moves suffer 10d6 points of profane damage and 10d6 points of bludgeoning damage from the hail of disintegrating earth and rock. A Reflex saving throw (DC73) halves each type of damage. The Save DC is Constitution-based and includes a +13 insight bonus.

*Devastating Critical (Ex): *Creatures who suffer a critical hit from the First Effluxion must make a Fortitude saving throw (DC 84) or die. The DC is Strength-based and includes a +13 insight bonus.

*Improved Grab (Ex):* If the First Effluxion hits, it deals normal damage and attempts to start a grapple as a free action without provoking an attack of opportunity. The First Effluxion can use improved grab on a Huge or smaller creature and has the option to conduct the grapple normally, simply maintaining a hold, or attempting to engulf the opponent. Each successful grapple check it makes during successive rounds automatically deals the damage listed.

*Engulf (Ex): *The First Effluxion can absorb opponents it holds with a second successful grapple check after a grab. The opponent must be Huge or smaller. Absorbed creatures take 40d6 points of profane damage and 40d6 points of bludgeoning damage each round they remain inside the First Effluxion. Victims must make a successful grapple check to “swim” free of the living chthonic magma of the First Effluxion.

*Engulfing Overrun (Ex):* A foe who is successfully overrun by the First Effluxion is treated as if engulfed.

*Profane Fiery Touch (Ex): *Touching or being touched by the First Effluxion deals 10d6 points of profane damage. The First Effluxion's attacks automatically deal this damage in addition to their normal damage.

*Nondetection (Ex):* The First Effluxion resists detection, and is treated as though under the effect of _nondetection_ (Caster Level 65).

*Ontic Flux (Ex):* The First Effluxion exists at the threshold of being, and is treated as though under the effect of a _blink_ spell, except that attacks which target incorporeal or ethereal creatures gain no special benefit. The ontic flux may be suppressed or resumed as a free action. 

*Spell-Like Abilities: *The First Effluxion may use any nonepic spell with the [Fire] descriptor and any spell from the Darkness, Death and Destruction domains at will as a spell-like ability; the First Effluxion deals profane damage in place of fire damage, and variable numeric effects are always maximized. It may also use any of the following at will: _blasphemy, detect thoughts, haste, unhallow, unholy aura, utterdark_. 

Once each per day, the First Effluxion can also use the following spell-like abilities which are the equivalent of epic level spells:


*Annihilating Breath:* As a standard action, the First Effluxion can manifest a maw which unleashes an annihilating blast in a 500-ft. cone. Targets caught within the blast automatically sustain 50d20 points of profane damage and must make a Fortitude saving throw (DC60) or die; creatures slain in this fashion are treated as though _disintegrated_. This is an evil, necromantic death effect, nonepic wards are not effective against the First Effluxion's annihilating breath; epic protections keyed to the [Slay] seed and relevant deific protections are entitled to an opposed caster level check.

*Chthonic Pyroclasm:* As a full round action, the First Effluxion can generate a whirling maelstrom of profane fire and disintegrative chthonic "debris" with a radius of 1000 feet which moves with the creature. The effect lasts for as long as the First Effluxion concentrates, and for 20 rounds thereafter. All creatures within the area suffer 20d6 points of profane damage and 20d6 points of bludgeoning damage every round they remain there; a Reflex saving throw (DC60) halves each type of damage.

*Consume Life:* As a standard action, the First Effluxion may cause a consumptive burst which bestows 10d4 negative levels on all creatures within 500 feet. Targrets are entitled to a saving throw after 24 hours (Fort DC60) to prevent permanent level loss. This is an evil, necromantic death effect, only epic protections keyed to the [Slay] seed are entitled to an opposed caster level check. Creatures with divine rank are not subject to the effects of this ability.

*Diminish Foe:* As a swift action, the First Effluxion can deliver a _superb dispelling_ which also bestows 10d4 negative levels upon any single creature within line of sight. The First Effluxion makes its opposed caster level check at 1d20+100. The target is entitled to a saving throw after 24 hours (Fort DC60) to prevent permanent level loss. This is an evil, necromantic death effect; epic protections keyed to the [Slay] seed are entitled to an opposed caster level check to counter the negative levels, and deities are not subject to it; the _dispelling_ effect is not affected in any case.

*Profane Tremor: *As a full round action, the First Effluxion can generate a wave of seismic energy with a radius of ten miles. The shock knocks creatures down, collapses structures, opens cracks in the ground, and is otherwise treated as an _earthquake_ spell except that the DC to resist specific effects is 60 in all cases.

All of the First Effluxion's spell-like abilities gain the [evil] descriptor, regardless of function. The Caster Level is 65th; the save is DC 50+ spell level. Against good creatures, the Save DCs increase by +4.

*Regeneration (Ex): *The First Effluxion takes normal damage from good-aligned epic weapons; it takes double damage from good-aligned effects or weapons with the [cold] or [light] descriptor.

*True Seeing (Ex): *This ability has a range of 1000ft. and is always active.

.


----------



## Siuis

It astounds me, the way you take the conceptual and mold it into the actual. You are, as always, an inspiration.

I particularly enjoy it's ability to deliver "negative energy" effects to erstwhile immune targets; it attacks their existence, so it gets by. I was thinking just this morning of similar, such as death effects on death-immune targets, burning fire elementals and such.

Dealing profane fire damage to a fire-immune PC who has regeneration (fire) is going to be a hoot.


----------



## Justin

Sep,

The recent announcement of the July 12 release date for Martin's A Dance with Dragons, combined with the continual bitching from impatient GRRM fans and detractors with an absurdly strong sense of entitlement who think that Martin somehow owes them something, has prompted me to write this post.

I would simply like to say THANK YOU to you and your players for providing all of us (for free, no less!) with such a beautiful, richly developed, and immensely epic (in the truest sense of the word) story for all of these years now. (GRRM could learn a few things from you. )

Justin


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

Justin said:


> Sep,
> 
> The recent announcement of the July 12 release date for Martin's A Dance with Dragons, combined with the continual bitching from impatient GRRM fans and detractors with an absurdly strong sense of entitlement who think that Martin somehow owes them something, has prompted me to write this post.
> 
> I would simply like to say THANK YOU to you and your players for providing all of us (for free, no less!) with such a beautiful, richly developed, and immensely epic (in the truest sense of the word) story for all of these years now. (GRRM could learn a few things from you. )
> 
> Justin




QFT.

Thank you, Sep, for all the years of work you and your players have put into the game.


----------



## RedTonic

This topic is really one of my favorites and is, I think, required reading for any DM who wants to run something going from the epic realm to further heights (or depths, as it may sometimes be). I really enjoy the plot, but I find the mechanics and the organization of the world revealing in terms of how to handle a high-level tabletop game that goes beyond dungeon-crawling.


----------



## Terwox

This story is always a pleasure to read.  Glad to catch up.

Thanks for writing.


----------



## Nightbreeze

14 days bump!


----------



## grodog

@ GaryCon 3 bump!


----------



## Noir

spring bump.


----------



## carborundum

Wow, is it spring bump already?


----------



## Nightbreeze

It's been a while (two years, in fact) since I last did a complete re-read of the entire story.

So, is there any kind soul willing to remind me what was the role of the Clavinger and other wide-area travel denials (like the Green no-plane trepassing effect) in the war?

Meaning, I remember that the Clavinger did something to majorly piss off the Chesnite, but I don't remember precisely what (aside for, of course, denying them the ability to cast arcane spells for political reasons within the area). 

Also, why is it exactly that the Wyre army moved out of Wyre to meet chesnite forces halfway? And in general, Clavinger aside, why don't the Chesnites employ more "terrorist" fighting? I mean, they have plenty of divine casters, why don't they teleport their asses on the civilian populace of Wyre? 

Also, does the Green "no plane trepassing" inhibit teleports? After all, teleports rely on instantaneus travel trought the astral plane (IIRC).

Reason I am asking - in my campaign there are 3 major forces which are heading towards war, and I am weighting ways to channel the fight to field battles, rather than a messy spread out of guerrilla/teleporting fights all over an entire continent. So I'd like to know how Seb's campaign (an inspiration for 5 years, now) has been shaped the way it did.


----------



## Siuis

The Claviger extended the ban on Calling magics to include theistic use as well; before that move, a wizard could not bind a lantern archon, but a cleric could try and Gate Asmodeus himself with no rebuke (well, from the Claviger).

Just assaulting Wyre would do little (as far as teleporting in and such). They don seem to be upset at Wyre, so much as Existence, The church of Oronthon, and the Monarchy o Wyre. In that order. I may be wrong though.
It's also entirely possible they didnt want to stir anger from anyone else, as there are bound to be third parties. Attacking a localized religion is entirely different than magic murder against an entire populous.

Eadric and the rest moved to engage, presumably, to deny them as much collateral damage as possible. See number 2.


----------



## Nightbreeze

Yes - I can see the point about them being mostly interested in crushing the rising church of Oronothor. And besides, once you have crushed the Ahma/Sela and whoever is supporting him militarily, destrying the rest of the faithful should be a child's task anyway. From this point of view, Eadric getting the fight "outside" makes perfect sense.

But are there any third powers on the continent/world? I was under the impression that the continent has 3 major areas - Wyre, Shuth and Nizkur, and that there's no other strong party. Of course, now we have the Adversary Reincarnated, and the immortals are very wary of angering him, but I don't see why he would could object to them slaughtering civilians - mainly because I don't seem him interested enough to care.

So, while I understand why Chesne's forces' goal is not to slaughter civilian population, it could nevertheless be a worthwile tactical gambit. Their summoned creatures cannot touch wyre's soil, without the Enforcer going after the asses of the summoners, but they could still send their all of their freaky amounts of undead and scatter them around. This would force Eadric to either stretch his forces to try and protect the civilians, or go with the ruthless route and try to make a push for hunting down the immortals as fast as possible and then going after the undead. The chesnite have no main base to protect - or rather, they do, but Kaalanaala can take care of her temple pretty well.

Just to make this clear - I am not criticising at all. I am pretty sure that it would make perfect sense if we were privy of all the info that Seb and his players have. But, that unfortunately not being possible, I am just discussing it (with the added benefit of a bump  )


----------



## Dancer

Remember, it is a religious conflict.  Difficult to convert the dead.


----------



## catastrophic

Are you kidding? They've already converted thousands.


----------



## Dancer

catastrophic said:


> Are you kidding? They've already converted thousands.




They've "changed them", they have not converted them.  Religious conversion is a whole 'nother animal.  Requires free-will to worship, etc.


----------



## catastrophic

Dancer said:


> They've "changed them", they have not converted them. Religious conversion is a whole 'nother animal. Requires free-will to worship, etc.



Who says? That could be exactly the kind of oronthonian nonsense that the cheshenites reject. I'm not evne sure oronthon's guys are into the whole 'give yourself to your god' thing anymore. 

Certainly the old church seemed to be based on a judeochristian modelto some degree, but the new one seems to deal with revelation in a rather different manner. 

Is it really legitimate to argue that the cheshenites stand by such a notion? For all we know they're a bunch of posthumans who laugh at the idea of free will.


----------



## Dancer

catastrophic said:


> Who says? That could be exactly the kind of oronthonian nonsense that the cheshenites reject. I'm not evne sure oronthon's guys are into the whole 'give yourself to your god' thing anymore.
> 
> Certainly the old church seemed to be based on a judeochristian modelto some degree, but the new one seems to deal with revelation in a rather different manner.
> 
> Is it really legitimate to argue that the cheshenites stand by such a notion? For all we know they're a bunch of posthumans who laugh at the idea of free will.




If that's the case, why have living humans at all?  I'm assuming the "soul" is still a valuable commodity in the cheshenite theology.  If live humans aren't needed why take pains to not destroy the general populous?  At one point in the story it was stated that the difference in oronthonian and cheshenite philosophy was a matter of perspective.  That implies some base assumptions, such as the need for living, free willed beings, even if such beings are making their choices under coercion.  

Revelation means nothing to a being which isn't free to explore or accept or reject the truth that has been revealed.


----------



## catastrophic

Dancer said:


> If that's the case, why have living humans at all? I'm assuming the "soul" is still a valuable commodity in the cheshenite theology. If live humans aren't needed why take pains to not destroy the general populous? At one point in the story it was stated that the difference in oronthonian and cheshenite philosophy was a matter of perspective. That implies some base assumptions, such as the need for living, free willed beings, even if such beings are making their choices under coercion.
> 
> Revelation means nothing to a being which isn't free to explore or accept or reject the truth that has been revealed.




But revelation is oronthon's deal, not theirs. It's not as if they treat the living with very much respect, and they certainly have plenty of undead around. Having self-replicating slaves make sense, hence the living are still needed.

Second, a difference in perspective doesn't have to mean that they have the same persepctive on things like free will. What followers of oronthon might see as a choice, the cheshinites might see as a great power bendng the will of their worshippers to them, or the inevitable subjugation of weaker beings. What do they care if some airy fairy god dresses it up as a choice, or a reveltion?


----------



## RedTonic

I'm not sure the Cheshnites put much consideration toward free will. Their focus on negation appears to be at least somewhat Adversarial in the context of the campaign, so it may be that free will is reserved for those who have the Will (which generally translates to the power), as Mostin might put it, to effect their desires--put to the test and strengthened by surviving the type of negation Soneillon overcame and embraced. They have no need for converts. They destroy the living with little apparent consideration. Translation into unlife isn't necessarily to create a resource of resilient labor. Nor do they necessarily require energy from ritual sacrifices, though that may be useful as currency in compacting. More than anything, the undead are cannon fodder and psychological weapons against the agents of the Green and Oronthon whom are actually efficacious.

That's just my understanding, and may be enhanced as I reread this storyhour in preparation for my campaign.


----------



## Knightfall

Sepulchrave II said:


> As neither the Rogue's Gallery in its original format nor the Plots and Places forums have endured, the _Eadric et al_ thread is now buried in the General forum. I feel oddly self-conscious about updating it in such a public arena, like wearing only my underpants in public; subsequent crunch will be in this thread instead.



Sep,

I'm sure one of the mods would be willing to move the _Eadric et al_ thread to the D&D Legacy Discussion forum. They did it for me for my _Lands of Harqual_ thread.


----------



## grodog

Bumpage!


----------



## Eridanis

Thanks for the bump, grodog; I hadn't seen Sep's post that Knightfall quoted above. I've moved the Eadric thread to Legacy Discussion, and it can be found here:

http://www.enworld.org/forum/d-d-legacy-discussion/5652-eadric-et-al-paladin-his-friends.html


----------



## grodog

Eridanis said:


> Thanks for the bump, grodog; I hadn't seen Sep's post that Knightfall quoted above.




Always happy to help!


----------



## Siuis

Grodog, you are the gravitic force which holds me in orbit. You and Cheiro are like the natural forces at work, here. It's impressive, and makes me feel like I'm thanking gravity for gravity-ing... But still. Thanks for the enthusiasm, mates. It's infectious, and you folks are always good for a fill-up when I'm running on E.


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## grodog

You're quite welcome, Siuis.  

And, post-July-4th BUMP!  (And where's Horatio??).


----------



## Cheiromancer

Debt Limit Ceiling Bump!


----------



## grodog

Post-GenCon Monday blues bump!


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## grodog

The "it's only 88*F out" bump!


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## grodog

The "go see Conan, it's a pretty good film!" bump.


----------



## tleilaxu

preceptor
From Latin praeceptor, from the verb praecipiō.

praecipiō
1.I take or seize beforehand
2.I anticipate
3.I enjoin, direct, order or command


----------



## grodog

The "it's good to see tleilaxu" bump! 

Oh [MENTION=63829]Horatio[/MENTION], wherefore art thou?


----------



## Siuis

Seeing Conan tomorrow partly on grodog's suggestion bump!

Does anyone recall what the gap is, between the game and the story hour?
I recall (I think) Sep saying they don't _quite_ use the D&D 3.5 system as their vehicle anymore. But maybe that's a different story hour...

Is it entirely possible that the game has been concluded?
I wonder how. There is no functional end in sight. Should the forces arraigned(?) against them fall, Eadric would still have Graz'zt to handle. He sent writ proclaiming him dead man walking. That's not something he can retire from. Then what? The point of Eadric having authority is his mortality; Oronthon won't just destroy all evil, even if he could. But Eadric is supposed to try, that's his function. Eadric has, by virtue of the title Ahma, been denied any sort of retirement.

Nwm and Ortwine will have a delicate dance themselves. Nwm at least has a sort of Druidic retirement; he will be allowed to die and iterate into the green. Ortwine has a cycle of ennui and activity that should keep her sated forever, and is also a deity now (I forgot that part).

Mostin... Mostin is beyond me from any other than a theoretical vantage point. He is already a 'transcendent'. Does he stillcare about the world enough to see his legacy through? Or will he venture into the far flung madness of the Outside, and just play the same game with bigger numbers?

The game is great, it really is, but the characters... The poor saps seem to have been suckered into an immortality of servitude, with only a job well done as thanks.

That is actually a pretty grand ending though, so I won't complain.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

If You have to watch Conan, watch the older Barbarian with Arnie first. It's better in some regards. I very liked the acting in newest C:tB but I would have a stern talk with the scenario writer.


----------



## Bloodcookie

I like to think the saga will conclude with Shomei ( <3 ) usurping the now-Greenified Adversary's role as designated manifestation of Will in opposition to the prevailing metaphysical authority. Thus the dialectic is preserved.


----------



## omgwadh

O, M, G was that? Sepulchrave?  I think I'm gonna faint...


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Sovereignty*



Qematiel approached Morne through the air from the west, the morning sun lending a golden adumbration to black and scarlet scales. She plummeted a thousand feet and alighted in an explosion of Hellfire within the Temple courtyard, her rider taking pains to avoid any area where the Faithful were gathered. Hallowed ground hissed and smoked, and all fled screaming from the wyrm's presence, save a quartet of the Anointed only: young paladins with glowing faces charged with guarding the gate to the precinct.

"Begone, you idiots," Shomei gestured as she slid from Qematiel's neck. They obeyed without hesitation. She whispered, and vanished beyond perception.

Shomei paced softly but rapidly across a lawn toward the Yew. Pulling off a glove, she stretched out her palm, and placed it on gnarled bark. Awareness was boundless. The universe seemed to breathe with a slow, measured pace. The scion itself was a tunnel of green light, leading to a heaven of limitless wisdom.

She inhaled sharply, withdrew her hand, and glanced about; her eyes now resting on an unremarkable patch of grass in the shade of the transept. There, the _I_ had stood. Shomei walked over toward the place, and knelt upon the ground. Pulling away turf in clods, she dug down eight inches into soft earth with her fingers. Next, she carefully retrieved a wrapped canvas from within her robe, untied it, and withdrew a cutting.

She placed the seedling in the hole she had dug, and even before she had packed the earth back in place, she felt it stretch, twist and slide in her hand: radicles quickly sought moisture; twigs grew upon a slender sapling.

Power surged.

Dozens of other trunks shot up around her; wrapped in their own glamour, she knew they were imperceptible to all mortal senses. A coppice of Hazel within the compound of the Temple of Oronthon in Morne. Shomei conjured a once-devil, Haril, and tasked him with the maintenance of the grove; she then became visible again to sight.

Guards were moving around the periphery of the courtyard; Shomei was aware of others beginning to gather upon the enclosing walls. 

The wizard ignored all present, made her way around to the great, carved valves which led into the Fane, and gestured; they swung inward noisily. Within, light glowed warmly and incense hung heavy in the air. Those at morning prayer or in meditation were roused. 

Kicking off her slippers, Shomei the Infernal – to the curiosity of those present – strode down the nave. She handed her rod and robe to a bewildered scrollbearer who quaked beneath their power, and reverendly – or perhaps cautiously – approached the apse. Before her, the vacant archiepiscopal throne and the great altar of Oronthon. She made a single, fluid ritual prostration, and rose smoothly. 

In an act later viewed as blasphemy, reconciliation or rededication – depending on one's point of view – Shomei proceeded to swiftly burn characters in Old High Borchian into the arch above the exedra which contained Oronthon's Holy of Holies, in a script both elegant and precise. Her revelation itself was by no means unambiguous, and was the cause of much subsequent speculation; the grammatical vagaries of Borchian lending additional uncertainty to her words:

_Gaírn Spâhidan_ Omnisapient Will [is Mine]

_Waírdan Kanist Wistim_ [I am] Becoming [is] the Refuge of Being 

And then, upon the great solar orb, as if in refutation of the central transmetaphysic of _Saizhan_ itself:

_*ÍM 
SAIZHO 
WAÍRTH*_

I AM. I SEE. I BECOME.​
She muttered irritably to the priest as she took back her artefacts, turned, and cleared her throat. She spoke in a clear voice to those within the Fane: a bold declamation which echoed in the vaulted ceilings: 

"_Swah Qith Oronthon_. I am reiterating your credo, not denying it.* You are in danger of falling into dogmatic nihilism; a perennial hazard if you emphasize negatory dialectics. I am offering a cataphatic serum for your malady. Don't worry: the irony isn't lost on me. Cease your solipsisms! Your praxis is insufficient by itself; _the Truth is not enough_: you lack agency."

Shomei departed without ceremony, her slippers chasing her and returning to her feet as she exited the Fane.

Reconsidering, she turned on the threshold, and subjected the golden eagle which reared above the newly-engraved orb to a powerful transmutation. Its talons retracted, its wings became elevated as though about to take flight, its head drew back and gazed directly upwards. She then _disintegrated_ the throne.

_Better_, she thought.

Outside, a crowd gathered. The wyrm Qematiel had coiled herself about the Yew and clung tightly to it, her annihilating fires subdued. The dragon's eyes – though they still retained their vast and ancient malice – seemed to possess a certain peace; she was permitted to remain until nightfall.

The Infernalist gazed at those assembled: in her mind's eye, they became a conflagration of light. Flames of Oronthon, returned from the Serenities, threatening to overwhelm her with radiance.

"Do you even know?" She asked them. "I think it's time someone told you."

The light smiled, and was occulted again.

Shomei scowled. With profound effort of Will – and the extent to which she recognized it as other than her own perplexed her – Shomei turned her thought upon them. She groped as through the flimsiest of veils; a subtle vapor concealed the apprehension of rarest truth. It eluded her.

"Become what You Are!" She hissed at them in frustration.

Silence.

Shomei considered her options. It would seem that more pressure must be applied. Pausing for a moment to gather her focus, she tapped her reservoir and reality shifted. She then issued a _sending_:

_I invite you to join me. There will be no compulsion, but I will remain the senior partner. Our association may end whenever you choose._

Instantly, Irel, Who Smites – the last and greatest of the dark episemes – appeared before her. Shomei – a connoisseur of the Infernal aesthetic – gaped at his beauty despite herself. Here was a perfect being: fallen without sin; cradled by the Green, not imprisoned within it. _Oh, Mostin. I owe you for this_.

She considered briefly, grasped her rod, and struck the ground. A peal of thunder sounded as a _gate_ opened.  "Come," she raised an eyebrow and gave a sidelong glance. "We go to visit Azazel first." 

Shomei's estimate of diabolic forces previously deployed on Avernus amounted to four hundred and thirty-four legions, including those of the independent magnates. Azazel had brought more than two hundred more – mostly pit fiends and horned devils – from Nessus itself, immediately subsequent to the _I_'s translation. Their current status intrigued Shomei; the extent to which they retained their infernality in varying degrees was curious: some – including the rulers of the Quarters – had become powerful feys. Others – such as Azazel himself and those accompanying him – seemed to enjoy a more protected status. Regardless, the general structure of their hierarchies remained intact: they represented a potential for power; perhaps the greatest and certainly the most coherent anywhere within the bounded cosmos.

Shomei and Irel vanished through the _gate_ into dark verdancies: the Thickets of the Four Kings where the Hazel and Holly-_ludjas_ held sway. 


**


The witch floated in the air, a half-mile above the eastern gates of the city. Bells and alarms were ringing frantically; the air around was thick with _wind walking_ djinn and whichever fortunates they had managed to take with them. Below her, in shadow, the masses teemed in the streets and sought to flee the encroaching fire. All available magical aid had been lent to speed the evacuation; it remained woefully inadequate to the task.

Mulissu silently lamented. There was no time for anything, even to conjure _Ha'uh_ – which might have at least forestalled the shape which now bore down upon the city. It was as though a great plough were being dragged at uncanny speed across the dark land toward Fumaril; the furrow it left was an open wound in the earth, the sides of which smoked and vitrified. At its approach, a vibration caused the foundations of the city to shudder; the sound rapidly became deafening, and houses began to topple.

_There is no scion at Fumaril_, Mulissu grimly observed.

The gate below her exploded into molten rubble.

As her subjects – those whom she had sworn to protect – began to perish by the thousand, she pushed all sense of grief and horror from her mind lest it overwhelm her; not one jot of remorse would she let herself feel. The Tyrant of Fumaril gazed on, expressionless.

She studied her enemy with implacable calm.


**


Kyrtill's Burh darkened as clouds gathered in the sky above it. Within two leagues – an area which included both the town of Deorham and many outlying farms – animals were transformed into misshapen, brooding things by the awakening Blackthorn scion. The land seemed to drift; shadows erupted and passed without warning. Buildings stretched and twisted. Trees grew shaggy and thorned. Of feys, all but the most wicked and insane fled.

In the public lounge of the _Twelve Elms_, Soneillon sat and pondered. Her demons were growing restless – most were currently contained in a demiplane of her devising, and only a handful attended her directly. Ilistet, she had promised a steed; Mazikreen had taken a liking to Afqithan, and Megual would need to be bought off. The Goat was remaining hidden and inscrutable; probably making magic. She must somehow seek to either placate or compel them all, but she could not afford to anger the _Ahma_ quite yet, and loosing them on eastern Wyre would surely incur his wrath. 

She motioned with her mind and gestured to the barkeep to bring her more wine. It seemed to be affecting her; Soneillon wondered as to whether she had acquired some measure of mundanity. When the bottle arrived – delivered by a flabby boy with an apish gait and an empty look - the demoness smiled languidly. 

Soneillon made herself receptive. From far beyond the known – such as it now was – an impression reached her; concepts superimposed upon disquieting sound.

:: Beware of Shomei. We know her. She seeks to coerce the _I_ with the Hazel. She will seek the _Urn_::

The demoness entered a potent divinatory fugue. To her, the world – all that is the case,  and that had been a great deal – had changed into a small and unfamiliar but nonetheless exciting finitude. Much was new again and unexplored, with possibilities untapped. And now the Fires of Death in Jashat had erupted in fourfould manifestation, spewing Void into reality.

The first and most violent effluxion was in the process of ravaging Fumaril: of the eighty thousand inhabitants, some fifteen hundreds had escaped. Much of the city was already gone, and burning rivers now ran between mounds of ash and slag; clouds of steam rose from the harbors. Soon, Soneillon knew, the abomination would tire of its revels and sink down through the mantle to become a dark fire at the heart of the world.

A second manifestation, Kaalaanala had leaked into Dream; the Claviger would tolerate it but must necessarily move to contain it. Carasch and other Chthonics raced along a great bough of the Blackthorn into the nightmares which surrounded it. Soneillon sensed them as they brushed Delirium; the urge to join them was almost irresistible. 

The Third Effluxion, a winged infernal shrouded in unlight, took flight. It sped to an island in Pandicule, a place far beyond the Claviger's purview, there to enlist powerful spirits – things now neither entirely demon nor fey – which had been seduced by the Blackthorn-_ludja_. At that same moment, within the Grotto of the Articles, Gihaahia manifested, even as the Claviger itself plummeted into Dream. Taking stock as consciousness recrystallized, the Enforcer's perception reached out toward the southern boundaries of her remit. Soneillon felt the awareness pass through her and test the limit of the Blackthorn's ward; the _ludja_ itself flexed, repelling Gihaahia's efforts.

The Fourth and last – an image of the dark and hooded form of the goddess, wreathed in corrupting flames – stood momentarily before the altar of itself in meditation. Its senses probed reality. Without word or gesture, it caused space to fragment and dragged forth a great Chthonic _anala_, binding it into the shape of a fiery steed. Faster than a hurricane, it then rode north, an emissary.

Soneillon scowled. _That bitch better not come here_. 

A pulse. The demoness started. It was emanated by the scion at the nearby keep. To soothe her? Allay her concerns? She tasted an exquisite anguish; a sudden satiation of unbecoming. It struck her as a heady ecstasy of the utmost purity.

Immediately, a presence in her mind. Her mental defenses slammed into place; Soneillon transformed herself and arose in might, clutching the _Urn_. A shockwave blew a hole in the roof of the inn as she launched herself skywards: protective void blossomed around her; tendrils of madness lashed the air wildly.

All of her hatred, the entirety of her, focused into an execration directed at this interloper in her field of apprehension. There was a brief mental silence.

[Nehael]: As you wish. But take care where your senses roam.

Soneillon cursed.




**


Hummaz lolled, wine-soaked, upon a great stone chair. Nymphs slept nearby in exhausted bliss. The Wild God of the Woods raised an eyebrow as something flitted across his vision four leagues distant.

What's this?

He reached out, grabbing a diminutive fey and dragging it toward himself. The creature was dressed strangely, possessed of one arm, and had an unwinking eye in the middle of its forehead. Hummaz absorbed its thoughts and history in a trice. An enigma.

Hummaz grunted and replaced the odd creature. He was thirsty, and his head pounded. Where was the wine?

Wine?

_"Wine!"_ He bellowed. His temper was rising.

Every fey within a mile instantly heeded his call. Wine began to arrive; in bottles, cups, flasks and kegs. 

Hummaz drank eight deep draughts and relaxed again. But not entirely.

Something wasn't quite right.


**


In Northern Soan, in the world of Sisperi, it was known that the gods warred in the Heaven of Mulhuk. At first, Lai's priests blamed the machinations of Saes, the goddess of death; the truth was later revealed by oracles to be otherwise: a foreign war-goddess – Visuit – was attacking the Nireem. 

Dark spirits – awakened by the passage of the interloper through the Bole of Shades – now stalked the fields of Soan. Steadings were attacked by evil sprites; gentler woodland spirits fled. Crofters barred their doors and nailed their shutters. Prayers were fervently offered: to Ortwine, Rhul, Lai and Akma. A few invoked Ninit, but the Rider was oblivious, galloping wildly along Faerie strands west of Nizkur. 

Akma sent his furies to intercede; winged avengers with great maces and flaming swords drove fell monsters back into shadow. The faithful rejoiced.

In Mulhuk itself, events were less happy.


**


[Eadric]: You cannot suppress her wards?

[Mostin]: No

[Eadric]: Conjure a...whatever that was?

[Mostin]: No

[Eadric]: Open a _gate_? 

[Mostin]: There are no celestials or devils to invoke. I will not call a Horror using something as vulgar as a _gate_: anything of any use to us would simply ignore my commands and pursue its own trajectory.

[Nwm]: Invoke Nehael.

[Mostin]: I most certainly will not. Besides, there's no point. She doesn't ever _do_ anything, anyway.

[Eadric]: She owes me for Yeshe.

[Mostin]: And what exactly did she _do_ with Yeshe?

[Hlioth]: Do? Nothing. She left her with Rimilin.

[Eadric]: _What_?

[Hlioth]: Neither Rimilin nor Yeshe will leave the presence of the Tree until their time. I suspect that that whether they are "alive" or "dead" is not necessarily germane from the Tree's perspective. But Cherry will not snatch them. This is good.

[Eadric]: The Cherry is waking?

[Nwm]: Amongst others. Big trouble. It won't be long. The Aspen here is still sleepy.

[Eadric]: And Nehael _knew_ this?

[Hlioth]: As the Image of Uedii. Nehael is, herself, merely an agent: an echo of an aspect. That is worth remembering. 

"I am confused," Eadric sighed.

"As am I," Mostin confessed.

"Cherry and Blackthorn." Nwm explained. "These are the moot of Cheshne and Uedii: the Abysmal _ludjas_, so to speak; negotiations are tense. My bowels register it uncomfortably."

"You _feel_ this? And yet Nehael is somehow blind to it?"

"Eadric," Nwm sighed, "Unlike the _Ahma_, I am wise: I see little purpose in burdening objective reality with my internal processes. I have occasional intuitions; Nehael is more empathic: perhaps she is too close to it. Visuit. Kaalaanala. Goddess grows darker."

[Ortwine]: Yes she does. And a little help would be appreciated here.

[Lai]: Soon.

"But Nehael is an echo of _what_?" Eadric asked, exasperated.  "And to which _ludja_ is she inclined? Hlioth, with all respect, please speak more directly."

"Of her own Sovereign Viridescence: her higher octave, which is still not Uedii. If we prevail, you may see. As to loyalty? To all and none. The Tree is there for Nehael, not vice versa." Hlioth glowered at him, and considered. "Imagine this picture: Tree in its entirety as an aegis bequeathed by Uedii to protect Nehael from the Apparition of Demogorgon. The surface of the shield, facing outward, carries a veneer of cherry and blackthorn: the wood is weak and apt to splinter and ablate under violent passion or disintegrative fire. Nonetheless, it dissipates the shock of an attack. Beneath, lacquered bands of hardwoods - oak, elm and ash – lend strength, flexibility and hardness. In all, twenty varieties of wood comprise the shield; taken as a whole, the construction is impenetrable."

"And how long must this shield endure?"

"An aeon or a moment, what does it matter? It will last for as long as it needs to. Thinking big is nice, but none of it helps us deal with Visuit," Hlioth observed. "Or the Blackthorn's waxing power. Our troubles are just beginning. Effects are no longer preceded by causes; Cheshne moves in tandem with Tree's shadow, seeking to Apparate. Yes, the Tree itself is indestructible; Nehael, unassailable. Unfortunately, this is not true of the rest of the world. We neglected to quickly plug a certain cosmic hole."

She scowled at Mostin. It irritated him – mostly because she seemed to know more than him. But also because it made him feel guilty: it had been within his power to greatly curtail the menace. Had they only returned to Azzagrat, and sealed the _gates_. But that was now the prior reality.

"Where are the Blackthorn scions, Hlioth?" Eadric sighed. 

"In Jashat and at Deorham, you know. One now grows northeast of Cirone, at the place where _Shvar Choryati_ was ended: its roots sink into the crater floor."

Nwm groaned. "That scar should have been healed but there was no time; the landscape is blasted; trees flattened for a mile."

Hlioth ignored him and continued. "The scion at Cirone remains dormant for the time being, but will likely not long remain so. One – as with each – is in the vicinty of the Great _Ludja_ itself: each of those scions is subdued; dwarfed in significance, but each _ludja_ is thus ever-present. One is as yet unaccounted for."

"None in the realm of Hummaz?" Eadric seemed suspicious.

"No, no, no," Hlioth shook her head. "Pine, Linden, Willow; Hazel and Holly; Hawthorne and a Cherry – yes. And a Yew. But there is no place for the principle of elimination in relation to Hummaz; he is too fecund."

"I suspect it will be Fumaril," Nwm grumbled. "Or Afqithan. There are already powerful resonances there."

[Ortwine]: It damn well better not be. Now?

[Lai]: A little more patience.

[Eadric]: Do we have a plan?

[Mostin]: I'm thinking.

[Ortwine]: Hurry up!

[Mostin]: You need a nine hundred. I have it. It's ugly.


**


_This gnat was becoming annoying_. Visuit stood upon the heaped bodies of minor godlings and revered ancestors.

Purposely vexing the augmented war-goddess was not an activity which Ortwine undertook lightly. Lai had been with her to begin with, but as soon as news had reached them that Mostin's tower had arrived, the goddess of magic had vanished to organize the ritual which Nwm must inevitably lead.

Ortwine – swifter and more elusive than a zephyr – had succeeded in briefly distracting Visuit from her main purpose: the Butcher was intent upon smashing her way into the forge of Jaliere. However, Visuit's attention could not be captured for long: when it became clear that she could not engage Ortwine at her own choosing, but her enemy could inflict no harm upon her, Visuit simply returned her focus to the divinely barred portals.

They would not yield.

Visuit cursed, her spittle smoking like acid. Runes flared; the flower gardens nearby wilted. She turned her attention to the black rock around the doors: it was harder than adamant. With a titanic effort, she hewed a great shard away from the wall.

Ortwine hurled _Heedless_; it clattered noisily off of Visuit's helm. The war-goddess bellowed in fury, leaped a hundred feet, and brought her hideous weapon smashing down; her enemy was not where she was should have been. But had she been…The sidhe raised an invisible eyebrow.

Ortwine taunted her. Visuit, unperturbed, sliced reality open with her weapon; darkness emanated from a _gate_ into a dismal realm.

Ortwine groaned. Through the rift, dark feys now poured, each raised to a wicked eminence in the presence of the Blackthorn. Many had once been sidhe. Now they were much worse.

She began to charm or dominate those that she might, in an effort to turn them against one another.

Visuit resumed her assault upon the rock.


**


Nwm observed that there were only twenty-three spellcasters amongst the flamines and scrollbearers. Spells were all but spent. Every reservoir – including his own – was exhausted. He considered Mostin's solution.

"You will give me everything. I am going to burn as hot as I can," he said to them. "This means that you will burn as well. As I am more practiced at burning than you are, all of you will die immediately. You will enjoy a brief spell in Rûk: a relatively agreeable underworld, as underworlds go. Sombre, quiet self-reflection is the order of the day. Some of you may be temperamentally inclined to remain there; otherwise, I will return you at the _Ahma_'s request. In any event, the experience of burning will embed itself on your souls and permanently traumatize you. If any of you now wish to reconsider your contribution, I advise you to speak up."

The predictable silence which ensued reassured Mostin of the utility of religious fanaticism. Nwm turned to those who would not participate in the ritual, and would therefore survive it.

"It is impossible to say how long we will have; I am hoping for twenty seconds before Visuit's protections reassert themselves. Please be assured that speedy action is of great importance."

The rite which then followed was an horrific scene: Nwm screaming; an inferno of green fire which consumed all but he.

The Preceptor perceived her. Energy moved from him; a tendril of green power, suffused with magic, rupturing space. Distance was meaningless. He struck the Butcher remotely with a _dispelling_, sealing the _gate_ near her and suppressing the Voidwrought wards erected by Kaalaanala. Simultaneously, as though grasping a rope with his own awareness, Nwm dragged those present through a green vortex, directly into Visuit's presence.

In those next few moments – a matter of seconds, which passed as though they might be years – Eadric finally came to grasp an appreciation of the raw power which Mostin now possessed. Almost entirely bereft of spells, the Alienist became instead a formidable physical opponent, a dozen hideous tentacles setting about Visuit, pinning her arms, legs, head. With all of her augmentations subdued, the wizard now outmatched the war-goddess. 

_Lukarn_ ignited as it sprang from its scabbard.

Her plight was impossible. Mostin grappled her; tentacles crushing the goddess through her armor and pinning her. She growled in fury as the others set about her, and hacked at her.

Butchered her.

"Take her," Eadric invoked Nehael as Visuit fell. Now he understood.

War had passed. But at hideous cost. And he had broken a vow; demonstrated his own limit. He knew in his heart that not all of those who had perished in Nwm's immolating spell would fly to the Serenities. Not every martyr would find his reward. And each of those which might would be nonetheless diminished.


**


Rimilin observed the Tree. Its leaves whispered in a gathering wind. The World changed again.



**

**


Tozinak – appearing as a hook-nosed creature of medium stature with tufted feet and silky wings – returned to his island manse with a sense of profound relief. Mostin's insane schemes had almost rendered him dead again. The wizard understood in a moment of clarity that, although a coward, he was possessed of a genuine peaceful demeanor: the Alienist's actions never failed to perturb him on any number of levels simultaneously. Daunton had insisted on a drink; Tozinak had been inclined to agree. The afternoon had been spent regaining a semblance of calm.

As he shuffled into his cluttered study – a large space with a lofty ceiling, crowded with papers, alembics, and other apparatus of unguessable purpose – his skin tingled and his nose turned blue in alarm.

A succubus of extraordinary presence relaxed, supine, on his favorite couch. Tozinak froze, emitting a high-pitched squeak.

"I believe you can guess who I am," Soneillon smiled, lifting her head.

Tozinak nodded meekly.

"I'm just across the lake there," the demoness sat up and pointed with her wingtip. "At Deorham. We're practically neighbours."

Tozinak swallowed.

"Which is nice. I'll be stopping by. To see how you're progressing on inscribing _A Flame Precedes the Aeon_ for me."

"Ah," Tozinak finally said.

"What is your price?" Soneillon asked unexpectedly.

"Oh." Tozinak half-exclaimed. "I-I had assumed…"

"That this was extortion? Consider what you desire. I will grant it. I will return tomorrow. But you may begin the inscription at your earliest convenience." Soneillon vanished

The wizard retired, flustered and palpitating, to his herbaceous borders. What did he desire? Really, nothing which he did not already have; or simply to be left alone. This was Mostin's fault: Tozinak had previously shunned contact with all conjured entities; he judged that none were possessed of a facility which outweighed their price.

As he descended a small, uneven set of steps and rounded a corner, he began to hyperventilate. A tree where none had stood prior. Suspended, before his face, on a branch laden with their weight.

Cherries.

Tozinak reached out and smiled as he picked one and popped it in his mouth. It was exquisite; his mind seemed to melt. He yearned impossibly, although his longing had no discernible target.

Cherries. He knew he was safe. She would not come back. She was scared of the cherries. He would have to go to her. Bring her his spell. And cherries.



**
**



Dusk fell.

Nehael, the Image of Uedii, manifested discreetly in the Temple precinct in Morne: she had been invoked by no few of those present for protection. She wore only a simple robe of green, and melded effortlessly into the throng; now the courtyard was packed with many hundreds. Lamps were being lit; vigils set: the wyrm was a portent of unknown significance. 

As the sun sank behind the western hills, the dragon stirred. Unseen, Nehael approached, laying her hand upon Qematiel's great snout; the calm which emanated from the goddess was irresistible. An impulse. Immediately, the crowd began to disperse – the attention of each suddenly drawn to some minor elsewhere.

Shomei appeared, unnoticed by the mortals present.

"You are mustering an army," Nehael observed. "For what purpose? Who is your enemy?"

"Always myself," Shomei smiled as she mounted the dragon. 

"I did not foresee the union of these scions; you will make the Holly-_ludja_ jealous."

"I am the Archivist of Hell: the two seemed a natural fit. As for the Holly, it hates enough already: it needs no prompting."

"There is no Hell."

"There is for me."

"Exercise compassion," Nehael advised.

"It is not my forté," Shomei admitted. "But I am not unprincipled."

Nehael fixed her with a look. "Answer me a question: what do you know of the _I_'s translation?"

"What is there to say? Will has been ceded to the Hazel; the _I_ now acts from Instinct."

"I think we both understand that things are a little more complicated," Nehael seemed unimpressed.

"Truth is always so," Shomei was ironic.

"A piece of the _I_ is unrevealed," Nehael said. "It is disguised as something else; or the _I_ is hedging its bets."

"Such is the instinct for Self-preservation," Shomei agreed. "But whatever it is, it is here by the grace of the Tree; its nature is necessarily mixed."

"It is a Flame," Nehael remained impassive. "An Iota. Oronthon's memory of the Nameless Fiend, so to speak; or his preconception of _Antinomos_. The Flame which must, perforce, become Itself. It is a paradox: a Flame is pure; it cannot Fall. You seek it. And which laws will you set yourself against if you find it?"

"Not all laws are unequal," Shomei smiled grimly. "The only _Law_ which presently matters is that of the Claviger. Its oneiric whimsies are too much to endure. Other laws may be subject to scrutiny in due course."

"You would look to assume this role?"

"This is already my role," Shomei sighed. "I am Exempt; the Agent of Will. Who else is better qualified?"

"You are not exempt from the Enforcer's mandate."

"The devil sitting by the Hazel begs to differ."

"He is not entirely a devil, nor was he entirely _Outside_. The World is changed."

"Outside? So Gihaahia now protects Wyre only from Mostin?" Shomei said archly. "That, at least, is reassuring."

"And Vhorzhe."

"Yes. And from Vhorzhe. I am beginning to believe that she may need some help."

Nehael was exasperated. "The _I's nature is now a visceral urge for satiation. You cannot contain Hummaz."

"I will subdue him."

"Shomei…"

"Will you trust me, or not?" 

Nehael was silent: the memory of the Antinomos, reflected back at her. She approached the Yew, laid her hands on it. Its bark was warm, but from its own, inner heat; no trace of the wyrm's fire remained on the tree. 

"You are sincere, but I am sceptical," Nehael remained in contact with the scion. "If you fail, and enrage Hummaz, things will go ill." 

"I am no fool. I am not yet ready for this task, nor shall I attempt it until I am. I am not the Adversary, Nehael. But I might become what he should have been. Think on it."

Wreathed in Hellfire, Qematiel took to the skies and thundered away to the southwest.

The Goddess turned. Nehael grasped a living stave of Hazel and willed after Shomei as she departed. 

Compassion!

The impulse echoed through a hundred worlds; Nehael blazed, and for a fleeting instant, the Aeon manifested: an eleos. A sigh rippled through the Green as the Butcher fell in Mulhuk.

[Nehael]: She is mine. I claim her. 

All of significance heard her. Hummaz, maybe the only one who might, did not contest her. A naked, powerless spirit, Visuit fled briefly through the underworld of Rûk and into the presence of the Great Tree-ludja in the Womb of Qinthei.

At the Veils, the Mistresses screeched in hateful impotence.






*"Thus Spake Oronthon [to me]," words which were typically only uttered by Oronthon's divine oracles in the heyday of Orthodoxy; her "reiteration" may also be interpreted as a rebuttal of Nothing Is, Nothing Is Not, Nothing Becomes. Shomei's assertions are unequivocally outrageous in all regards.


DvR Notes

[SBLOCK]The "piece of the I" to which Nehael refers is the 3 "missing" DvR component: DvRs have a peculiar currency-like status: they can get lost, but aren't typically unmade. 

Prior to the Adversary's translation, the Nameless Fiend was a DvR15 entity; subsequently, Hummaz incarnated as a DvR12. On the paradigmatic scale – where the notion of I might be said to have been ceded from Oronthon to Uedii – the 3 extra DvRs are "liberated" in the form of a Flame: Oronthon's thought/memory of the Adversary. On the transcendental level, the Adversary is "somewhere" outside of finitude as potentiality: presumably, Oronthon could decide to create/emanate the Adversary again (as a free action :/ ) if he so chose. As an aside, it should be noted that the DvR12 Hummaz is in many ways more potent than the DvR15 Adversary: Hummaz is "optimized"; the Adversary's mechanical build contains a lot of intentionally "dissipated" (nonoptimized) elements in relation to other DvR15 entities. Although more limited in scope, the I is invigorated by the Green.

The Adversary proper – the I's previous persona – is no longer extant. But his legacy remains in the form of (1) the self-gratifying urge (the I as Hummaz); (2) the Hazel's alignment with Will; (3) Hatred, embodied by the Holly; (4) a pure conception of antinomian becoming (the hidden Flame); and (5) the notion of Exemption – represented by Shomei herself. Shomei's ultimate aim is to join and/or transcend the disparate components, thereby realizing her own sovereign I-ness – her DvR15 potential, as it were – unshackled from the Oronthonist schema. Shomei would then wield Hazel, insofar as the ludja would be entirely subject to her direction. She would also be the most powerful entity within finitude, in a position to determine which among the other specific ludjas should endure or prevail; be harnessed or suppressed. Finitude itself being essentially demarcated by Tree.

By planting a Hazel scion in proximity to the Yew, Shomei is "marrying" the principles of Will and Wisdom, so to speak – although it is unclear whether it is Shomei who is acting, or whether Will is directing her, or whether there is no distinction to be made at this stage. This "marriage" is in the context of two specific scions at Morne, not of the ludjas themselves. 

The Aeon's subsequent first manifestation is at Visuit's death as/at Nehael's emanatory point in the DvR scale; the "Sovereign Viridescence" to which Hlioth refers. The demise of the Butcher allows the momentary appearance of a compassion/mercy aspect of Goddess. Nehael's assertion "She [Visuit] is mine. I claim her," is hence made from a DvR12 perspective and cannot be contested: Nehael strips Visuit of her divine rank and takes her spirit. 

This DvR12 manifestation can itself be seen as an avatar or emanation of a DvR24 (meta-transcendental) Uedii or as a reflection of the Urgic conception of faheth, supreme empathy. Faheth, along with sela (perfect intellect) and saizhan (unclouded apprehension) is understood as an identifying feature of Oronthon's Mind. Reconciliationists would equate faheth with Uedii; the Sela has identified Nehael as such – although ambiguously. 

Less optimistically, it might be said that "War" (Visuit) is now inadequate to describe the nature of events, and the stakes have risen rather higher. The threat is now couched in terms of destruction (as represented by Kaalaanala and her effluxia). Dark goddesses clamour at the gates of finitude, etc. etc. 

Manifestation of the DvR16 Apparition would signify annihilation; more esoterically, the Aeon never reifies fully in the Mind of Oronthon and reality is revealed to not be. Although Hlioth assures Eadric that the Tree is proof against the Apparition for Nehael, this protection may not extend altogether to the rest of the World. Moreover, it is not known whether Tree's 20DvRs would be proof against the DvR17 and DvR19 infinities, which have pseudonatural connotations. DvR17 suggests a post-annihilatory state; DvR19 a pre-manifest one: both imply a solution to the Being/Not Being conundrum: note that Mostin would not consider these altitudes particularly impressive. DvR18 is a point of mutliple equilibria; it is associated with the dialectical process. This is Fillein/Jovol/Teppu's "root DvR," so to speak -  the infinity toward which he is drawn. DvR18 may in turn be seen as emanatory of DvR36 – Saizhan itself.

Confusingly, the Aeon, representing potentiality, is all of these things. As its final Self – Pharamne at the Moment of Creation – it is a DvR20 Wyrm. 



Ahma as Divine Rank

According to Urgic doctrine, Ahma is an emanation of the Radiant Form. It should therefore logically be a DvR15 phenomenon – equivalent in "power" to a Sovereignty, sempiternal, but of different scope and mostly "invisible." Its outward signs are manifested in the templates stacked on top of Eadric. In its naked form, Ahma is essentially a 15DvR Flame associated with Eadric, with 12DvRs unexpressed. As an undifferentiated Flame, Ahma is also "Oronthon thinking about Eadric;" in more devotional and theistic terms, Eadric is dear to Oronthon. Obviously, having a DvR12 potential is fine, but realizing it is trickier.[/SBLOCK]


Epic Spells

[SBLOCK]*The Pall of Dhatri*
Evocation [Darkness]

*Order:* 2630
*Spellcraft DC:* 110 
*Components:* V, S, Ritual
*Casting Time:* 10 minutes
*Range:* 0ft.
*Effect:* 100-mile radius sphere of tenacious darkness centered on a point in space
*Duration:* 100 days
*Saving Throw:* None
*Spell Resistance:* No

*Seeds:* [Energy (weather) (25)], [Energy (19)], [Ward] (17). *Factors:* Emulate darkness (+17), negate disjunction (+16), increase radius by 98 miles / 4900% (+196), +300 CL opposed dispel (+600), +100 days duration (+400), contingent (+25), tenacious (ad hoc x2). *Mitigation:* Ritual component (-2500), 10 minute casting (-20).

The Pall of Dhatri evokes a sphere of shadowy illumination with a radius of 100 miles. Light from nonepic spells and mundane light is automatically suppressed within the spell's area. Disjunction is inefective against the Pall of Dhatri, in whole or in part.

Targeted epic spells which use the [Dispel] seed to successfully counter the Pall of Dhatri only do so for 1d4 rounds unless they include factors to lengthen the duration of the dispel effect; the entire area otherwise under the effect of the spell is subject to the normal prevailing illumination, after which the Pall of Dhatri reasserts itself. 

Epic spells with the [light] descriptor which succeed at an opposed caster level check against the Pall of Dhatri suppress it for their duration but only to the extent of their area of effect.

Appropriate salient divine abilities may permanently counter and dispel the Pall of Dhatri, either locally or entirely.

The Pall of Dhatri is a 320th-level effect.



*Lukarn*
Evocation [Good, Light]

*Order:* 857
*Spellcraft DC:* 0 (Spontaneous)
*Components:* V, S, DF, XP, Ritual
*Casting Time:* 1 minute
*Range:* Touch then 2 miles; see text
*Effect:* 2-mile radius sphere of holy light centered on a weapon; see text
*Duration:* Contingent, then instantaneous and 200 minutes; see text
*Saving Throw:* Will half, partial or negates; see text
*Spell Resistance:* Yes; see text

*Seeds:* [Energy] (19), [Energy] (25). *Factors:* Emulate sunburst (+29), emulate daylight (+19), +300 opposed CL (+600), increase damage die (+40), +50 opposed check against [dispel] (+100), contingent (+25). *Mitigating Factors:* The sword Lukarn as divine focus (-10), ritual component (-572), 27500XP distributed between 44 reservoirs (-275).

This spell remains contingent for up to 24 hours until the sword Lukarn is first drawn from its scabbard.

When Lukarn is unsheathed an immediate sunburst effect is evoked with a radius of 2 miles. Evil creatures are blinded and immediately suffer 6d20 points of damage. Undead creatures suffer 20d20 points of damage; vampires and other undead specifically vulnerable to daylight are destroyed. A successful Will saving throw halves the damage and negates the blindness and destruction effects.

Thereafter, a sphere of illumination as bright as full daylight with a radius of 2 miles centered on Lukarn persists for 200 minutes: the locus of the daylight effect is mobile, and moves with the weapon. The spell counters and dispels all [darkness] effects within its area and for its duration against which it makes a successful opposed caster level check; this spell confers a +300 bonus to negate such effects.

For the purposes of penetrating spell resistance, Lukarn has a caster level of 43; the spell is considered to have a caster level of 93 for purposes of opposed dispel checks which target it.



*Guho's Disjunctive Membrane*
Abjuration

*Order:* 417
*Spellcraft DC:* 77
*Components:* V, S, Ritual
*Casting Time:* 10 mins
*Range:* 2 miles
*Effect:* A 2-mile radius sphere centred on a point in space
*Duration:* 24 hours
*Saving Throw:* Will negates (object)
*Spell Resistance:* No
*Seeds:* [Ward] (14), [Ward] (14), [Energy (weather)] (25), [Fortify] (17). 
*Factors:* Emulate disjunction (+31), negate disjunction (+16), +150CL (+300), selective targets (ad hoc +20). 
*Mitigating Factors:* 10 mins casting (-20), ritual (-340).

Guho erects a disjunctive interface encapsulating a bubble with a radius of 2 miles. Creatures designated by Guho at the time of its creation may freely pass through the membrane in either direction without ill effect.

Creatures who otherwise attempt to pass through the membrane and spell effects which originate outside of the interface are immediately subject to a disjunction effect upon contacting it. Subjects protected by epic spells which possess the [Ward] seed keyed to disjunction effects are entitled to an opposed caster level check; all other ongoing spell effects are automatically ended. Any magic items which pass through the membrane must make Will saving throws or be likewise disjoined.

The Disjunctive Membrane may not itself be disjoined. Epic spells incorporating the [Destroy] or [Dispel] seed are entitled to an opposed caster level check in order to counter the spell: in this case the Disjunctive Membrane is considered to be a 178th-level effect.[/SBLOCK]_


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## grodog

Some _very_ interesting developments, here.  Thanks, Sep!


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## Starman

Hurray for an update!


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## Bloodcookie

Clearly I should exercise my oracular abilities more often


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## Zelda Themelin

Hi I am still following this story-hour. To be honest I haven't read many books, which are written as well than your story.

I like the philosophical heavyness, though I don't quite get it all.

Thank you for giving this story to us Sepulchrave. It's always trilling to find and read the update.


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## Erevanden

Damn, damn, damn, how I envy your group !! Gaaaah !! 

So, this conflict is slowly coming to a point, where it's all about enforcing individual paradigms - in comes the new, out goes the outdated...

Some questions, as typical of me  :

1) 







> And he had broken a vow; demonstrated his own limit




Why did Eadric say that ?? I do not seem to understand his conclusion ??

2) 







> the Fires of Death in Jashat had erupted in fourfould manifestation, spewing Void into reality.




Would you write something about the three yet unknown effluxions ?? :



> The *Third *Effluxion, a winged infernal shrouded in unlight, took flight. It sped to an island in Pandicule, a place far beyond the Claviger's purview, there to enlist powerful spirits – things now neither entirely demon nor fey – which had been seduced by the Blackthorn-ludja.






> The *Fourth* and last – an image of the dark and hooded form of the goddess, wreathed in corrupting flames – stood momentarily before the altar of itself in meditation. Its senses probed reality. Without word or gesture, it caused space to fragment and dragged forth a great Chthonic anala, binding it into the shape of a fiery steed. Faster than a hurricane, it then rode north, an emissary.




3) I am beginning to visualize a relation - Demogorgon (male) - Uedii (female) / Cheshne (female) - Oronthon (male)....is there some truth in this reasoning ?? 

4) What is Vhorze's agenda, his goals elude me still ?? And why is he referring to himself as "We", suggestively presenting himself as a hivemind of sorts ?? 

Thanks !!


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## tleilaxu

thanks sep. 



Erevanden said:


> Why did Eadric say that ?? I do not seem to understand his conclusion ??




didn't he swear to defend fumaril? he failed to do so.



> I am beginning to visualize a relation - Demogorgon (male) - Uedii (female) / Cheshne (female) - Oronthon (male)....is there some truth in this reasoning ??




lol. to anticipate... 'it isn't not true'.



> 4) What is Vhorze's agenda, his goals elude me still ??




vhorzhe is insane. we have no frame of reference to understand his goals. 

---
where is the rogues gallery thread? link anyone? i wanted to look at sep's picture of the tree cosmology.

edit: it is here http://www.enworld.org/showthread.php?t=5652


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## Sepulchrave II

The Metagnostic Infinity Map will begin to make sense if you stare at it for long enough.


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## Erevanden

Ah, I see, this clears things up a lot !!

Great many thanks Sepulchrave 

For a very long time my musings were influenced by the assumption that Vhorze was much more powerful in terms of divine ranks.

P.S. will you make an update to the "Rogues Gallery" in this thread somewhere within a time span conveniently limited, in response to your fanatical worshippers' fervent prayers (you can gain more divine ranks that way, honestly I tells ya !!) ?? 

Oh, ekhm..., I meant your *fans* of course...

_Asato mā sad gamaya
Jyotir mā Tamaso gamaya
Ayus mā Amṛitam gamaya_

A Cheshnite mantra, I suppose (hope I got it right )


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## Dancer

And I thought I put a lot of thought into the metaphysics of my campaign......


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## Knightfall

Sepulchrave II said:


> The Metagnostic Infinity Map will begin to make sense if you stare at it for long enough.



Thanks for that. Very cool.


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## Someone

Dancer said:


> And I thought I put a lot of thought into the metaphysics of my campaign......




My new rule is that campaing metaphysics aren't complex enough if players (or readers) can understand more than 15% of them.

In the good sense.


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## Felix

Ten years, Sep. It's been a hell of a read.

I can almost mark significant events in my life with what has been happening to Eadric and friends. Heh. 

Also, for old time's sake: BUMP


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## Tal Rasha

Felix said:


> Ten years, Sep. It's been a hell of a read.
> 
> I can almost mark significant events in my life with what has been happening to Eadric and friends. Heh.
> 
> Also, for old time's sake: BUMP




This is a bit of a strange question. I absolutely love this story hour--indeed, I am not afraid to say it's the best work of fiction I've ever read--but I haven't checked in for some time, and work is presently keeping me too busy to give it the attention it deserves (want to reread some older posts as well before I get into the recent ones).

So, without spoiling anything, is the story over? Or are we still in the thick of it?

Whatever the answer, Sepulchrave you are a damn good writer.

Also I made sense of the metagnostic multiverse without using the cheat-sheet, and it only fried like 15% of my brain.


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## Rikandur Azebol

Still going, and getting crazier by the moment.


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## Erevanden

Sepulchrave, if you find some time and inspiration, could you write something about Jovol the Grey alias "Agent of the Aeon" alias Teppu, and especially about the spell he is using to stop time for a longer-than usually-possible amount of rounds


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## Tal Rasha

Also--he said sheepishly--the written account of the last, climactic battle in Afqithan would be much appreciated. You know, if you have the time.


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## Bloodcookie

Since you asked (har har), what I'd like to see is Sep's bibliography of historical, philosophical, rhetorical, and metaphysical sources. I can place a number of influences, but I'd love to know all of the ones I didn't recognize


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## Cheiromancer

All Saint's Day bump.


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## Erevanden

Hmmm, apparently _Teppu_ is a japanese word meaning either "wise" or "wise man"...neat, very very neat


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## grodog

Bump!


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## Siuis

*For great justice!*

Mind finally healed from studying the diagram bump!


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## Tal Rasha

*Epic Spells, how do they work?*

Fellow readers (and esteemed author),

I have a little experience with D&D, from playing computer games and the like, but not enough to completely understand how epic spells work in Sep's campaign. It's clear they cost XP to develop and cast. My questions are:

- is it possible to lose levels when developing / casting epic spells?
- if yes, how "far down" can you go?
- does XP expended on epic spells in any way regenerate?
- if yes (e.g. Chtonics, anyone else?), how quickly and how much? It's ok to answer "not public knowledge for the sake of the flow of the game/campaign".
- story characters are occasionally said to have "untapped reservoirs". Is a reservoir strictly "XP earned since most-recent level-up" or something more? Can one choose to forego leveling up to increase one's reservoir?
- the protagonists were at times said to be "spent", yet in subsequent posts they were again casting epic spells. Did they get XP back or were they simply running off XP they had earned since then?
- when Temenun summoned _Shvar Choryati_, his asking price was 2000. 2000 what, exactly?

As an aside, re: this post, is Guho dead now? Wait, let me rephrase that: insofar as can be deduced by someone familiar with the story, spells and the rules behind it, but not privy to insider knowledge, and without spoiling anything, will it take a larger than normal effort to once more bring Guho to the battlefield? Also, it's my understanding that liches as well as Guho herself (prior to this latest confrontation) don't need outside help to re-corporeate; is the situation for her(?) now changed?

I'm not nitpicking and I don't expect the spell-casting system and XP economy to be watertight (though the references to quantum physics and Markets are very much to the author's credit). I just want to get a handle on as many of the rules in play here as I can. Thanks for your patience.


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## Sepulchrave II

Tal Rasha said:
			
		

> - is it possible to lose levels when developing / casting epic spells?




No.



			
				Tal Rasha said:
			
		

> - does XP expended on epic spells in any way regenerate?




By accruing more XP. In addition, DvR0 and equivalent types typically have a floating buffer of 5000XP per week; demigods 15,000; lesser deities 30,000. These numbers are not hard-and-fast.



			
				Tal Rasha said:
			
		

> - if yes (e.g. Chtonics, anyone else?), how quickly and how much? It's ok to answer "not public knowledge for the sake of the flow of the game/campaign".




Chthonics never pay XP for epic spells; they automatically enjoy up to a -200DC mitigating factor against any spell which they cast - the normal XP limit on a single epic spell.



			
				Tal Rasha said:
			
		

> - story characters are occasionally said to have "untapped reservoirs". Is a reservoir strictly "XP earned since most-recent level-up" or something more?




See previous.



			
				Tal Rasha said:
			
		

> - Can one choose to forego leveling up to increase one's reservoir?




No.



			
				Tal Rasha said:
			
		

> - the protagonists were at times said to be "spent", yet in subsequent posts they were again casting epic spells. Did they get XP back or were they simply running off XP they had earned since then?




A combination of buffer and earned XP; also ritual components and backlash, which may circumvent the need for XP altogether.

_Spent_ may also simply mean out of spells.



			
				Tal Rasha said:
			
		

> - when Temenun summoned _Shvar Choryati_, his asking price was 2000. 2000 what, exactly?




Nominally, free subsequent mitigating factors (supplied by the cabals) for spells to be cast at Temenun's discretion. 



			
				Tal Rasha said:
			
		

> - is Guho dead now?




Yes.


----------



## Tal Rasha

Awesome. Thanks.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Sepulrchave, I know it was certainly asked of You before ... but for some reason I can't find Your Chtonic template, and remember You posting it on the forums somewhere. Could You share it again, please ?


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Midwinter Goddess*


After the fall of Visuit the Butcher, Nwm lingered for a day in Sisperi in order to aid Lai with the _resurrections_. Mostin removed his tower to eastern Nizkur, attaching it again to his manse – now the home of Orolde and Mei. Rhul and Mesikammi travelled to Afqithan to assess the danger in that realm with Ortwine. Eadric returned with Hlioth, his saints and remaining knights to Galda, there to receive mixed news. 

Prahar had withdrawn his cavalry – their raids had been punishing for both sides in the conflict – and established a more distant perimeter. Obfuscatory magicks prevented Temple scriers from penetrating the Cheshnite ranks and determining their exact movements, but it was known that the main host was again marching, taking many hours to pass through the gates at Thond.

"She can be no worse than Visuit."

"You should not underestimate Dhatri," Hlioth cautioned. "She is a symbol. An all-consuming mouth and gullet. She has had long to prepare; she must time her momentum precisely. The _Pall_ is more than half expired, and there are too few now amongst the cabals to renew it: many have died; some have moved to new centers of power. But she has had a month to work her necromancy uninterrupted. And a million ravenous undead accompany her. Sheer numbers may prevail."

"And when they meet the perimeter established by the scions?" Eadric asked.

"A test occurs." 

"Then our lever must be at this point."

"We have a brief lacuna," Hlioth advised him. "Use the time wisely."


**


Mulissu sat in Mostin's – now Orolde's – study, brooding. A fire burned steadily in the hearth, and the smell of musty books and burned toast filled the air. Outside, snow piled heavily against the window, diffusing the afternoon light as it streamed in. The savant had been absorbed in her own thoughts since witnessing the destruction of the city she had sworn to protect. Mostin could not determine whether it was guilt, rage, or some other emotion which consumed her and had caused her fugue.

"Crumpet?" The Alienist asked, proudly presenting a long fork which displayed an over-charred circle of dough.

Mulissu sighed, and took the proffered dainty, scraping off carbon before smothering it with butter and jam. 

"We need to find a way to eliminate the effluxia," she remarked distractedly. 

"That would involve _finding_ and _confronting_," Mostin observed. "I suspect that our energies would be better deployed elsewhere."

"I assume that you are speaking of your _Ú_s"

"I am," Mostin nodded sagely. "I am also of a mind to reengineer the _Quiescence_ to allow for selective _teleportations_ amongst those whom I designate. Furthermore, Daunton informs me that a number of wizards are willing to demonstrate a more unified front in the face of the latest events."

"Which?" Mulissu sounded suspicious. "Why this sudden reversal?"

"The threat is now more imminent. Daunton himself, Hlioth, Jalael, Wigdryt, Gholu, Creq, Droom, Poylu, Troap, Muthollo, Sarpin. Even Waide. Tozinak appears to be sulking, and refuses to answer Daunton's _sendings_."

"And Shomei?"

"Her path, as always, is her own," Mostin sighed. "But Sho is willing to participate."

"And her sibling?"

"Still awaits her pseudogenesis: as to that, I have given thought to a spell."

"What did you have in mind as a basis?"

[Mostin]: Look: A_N = \int D\mu \int D[X] \exp \left( -\frac{1}{4\pi\alpha} \int \partial_z X_\mu(z,\overline{z}) \partial_{\overline{z}} X^\mu(z,\overline{z}) \, dz^2 + i \sum_{i=1}^N k_{i \mu} X^\mu (z_i,\overline{z}_i) \right) 

[Mulissu]: You can reduce it to this: A_N = \int D\mu \prod_{0<i<j<N+1} |z_i-z_j|^{2\alpha k_i.k_j}

*[Gihaahia]: You are both idiots. Use this: \int_{-\infty}^\infty \exp({a x^4+b x^3+c x^2+d x+f}) \, dx = e^f \sum_{n,m,p=0}^\infty \frac{ b^{4n}}{(4n)!} \frac{c^{2m}}{(2m)!} \frac{d^{4p}}{(4p)!} \frac{ \Gamma(3n+m+p+\frac14) }{a^{3n+m+p+\frac14} }*

[Mostin]:!! (Gratitude)

[Mulissu]: Eleven dimensions works for me. I suppose that's as good a place to start as any.

*[Gihaahia]: Don't disappoint me, Mostin.*

"What is her involvement in this?" Mulissu asked, confused.

"I have no idea," Mostin was dubious. "She has never evinced any interest in my work prior to now. Although, she reconfigured Daunton's transvalent repertoire, and bestowed the _Instant Convocation_ on him. Perhaps she will do the same for me?" [Inquiry?]

…

"Apparently not," Mulissu said drily. "Still, you have something to work with. What will you need?"

(Calculation).

"You, me, Sho, Orolde…and Mei herself. That is all." Mostin was dumbfounded.

"Where is Mei?"

"In the parlour," the Alienist said intensely, his eyes rotating in excitement. "I will inform her immediately. Her time is close…two or three days will be enough."

"Can we afford even that much?"

"Mei has placed her trust in me without question!" Mostin was aghast. "I won't fail her now."

"You are an odd one," Mulissu sighed. "I don't believe I'll ever understand you."


**


The errand-runner was beside himself with terror. Only moments before, archons had apprised Eadric telepathically.

"_Ahma_, a messenger from Shomei the Infernal. He purports to be one Yeqon; he styles himself the Fifth Prosecutor."

Hlioth scowled. Shomei was making a point. No Goetia so grand as the binding of one such as this had ever before been accomplished. Prosecutors, Antagonists – among the greatest of fiends and the most recondite. Signatories to the pact. Now atavisms, whom Shomei alone possessed the power to conjure and coerce. The Agent of Will had dispatched him as an errand-boy.

_Oronthon!_ Eadric swore silently and reflexively upon encountering the devil.

Yeqon towered above him, and – saving Hlioth – none others amongst those present might even approach the devil, such was the magnitude of his presence. A fallen seraph, close kin to Enitharmon: vast, dark wings shrouded his form. The Fifth Prosecutor had been brooding in grim obscurity for an aeon, hatching impossible schemes for the renewed assault upon Heaven. A Heaven which might be no more; or one so far removed from thought and knowledge that it might as well no longer be. 

Yeqon knelt and sat upon his heels, his eyes meeting the _Ahma_'s.

"What do you want?" Eadric sighed. 

The Fifth Prosecutor briefly pressed his forehead to the ground at the _Ahma_'s feet.

"_Saizhan_," the devil replied.

Eadric squinted suspiciously. "Then it is to the _Sela_ you must speak, not I."

"In due course," Yeqon's voice was calm and mellifluous. "But what I want and why I am here are two separate questions. My mistress has sent me as an ambassador; she is reconvening the Dark Choir. Bolstering its numbers. She asks that you remember your prior words to her, and that you continue to trust her."

"Pah!" Hlioth spat.

Eadric raised his hand, and addressed the Prosecutor. "_Reconvening?_ With what? Only Irel remains."

"No devil is lost to Shomei the Infernal," Yeqon replied. "But some are more freshly-fallen. Did you not stand with Rintrah above the Blessed Plain?"

The _Ahma_ recalled the Migration of Light he had witnessed; that some of the Host, in their haste to enter the burgeoning Viridescence, had crashed in smoking ruin. But to _where_?

"Into the Thickets of the Four Kings," Yeqon read his face precisely. 

"Nets cast by the Hazel?"

"Yes," the Fifth Prosecutor answered. "And the Holly."

[Hlioth]: Beware this devil, _Ahma_. Blackthorn may rot and putrefy and eliminate; Hazel dominate and involute; Cherry lust and crave. But, for sheer wickedness, none can match Holly.

"And which words would Shomei have me remember?" Eadric asked wrily.

"That you need not miss the opportunity of a good friendship," Yeqon replied.

"And I assume that some demonstration of my friendship is asked for?"

"Those arms and armor which you have under guard. Of Visuit the Butcher; Yeshe the Binder; Prince Graz'zt."

"She suggests I release these items to her?" The _Ahma_ was incredulous. "Is there even any savage enough to bear Visuit's sword?" 

"I, for one," the devil said steadily.

Eadric scowled. "I would speak with her directly."

"She is presently indisposed, but I will convey your request," Yeqon bowed, and departed in a pillar of dark fire.

"Indisposed?" Eadric turned to Hlioth.

"Shomei conjures," the Green Witch replied. "Goddess help us all."

He issued a mental summons to his steed.

"Wherever you are going, I can get you there faster," Hlioth observed.

"I need to ride," Eadric replied.

Straddling _Narh_, he sped away.

*

As he rode northwards, winter began to assert itself: not merely by virtue of latitude, he noted, but because of distance from the unnatural energies which lay over the whole of the Thalassine and Wyre's southern marches. He reached Hrim Eorth by mid-morning; by noon he had passed Groba and was galloping over frosty fields in Hethio. In the wan sunlight, Nizkur loomed. 

_Narh_ knew the route well, and required no prompting from Eadric. The forest – although quiescent by season – seemed unusually subdued. With barely a faltering of pace, the stallion ran through webs and thickets impenetrable to those without permission: the Green bulwark which surrounded Qinthei, the Womb of the Goddess. Snow blanketed the ground; the air was frigid. A slender figure stood waiting beneath the Tree. Eadric reined in before her. Nebulous figures – the barely perceptible shades of vanquished foes – moved like mist in some adjacent world, but did not seem to register his presence.

Steam rose from _Narh_'s flanks and nostrils; Nehael extended her hand, rubbing the horse's muzzle, tugging at his forelock, and sending him into an ecstasy.

"I come for counsel," Eadric dismounted and bowed. 

"Come," she said. "Walk with me."

*

"The thing which destroyed Fumaril – Kaalaanala's avatar – what has become of it?"

Nehael paused and pointed at the frozen earth beneath her feet. "It is below us. A cancer at the heart of the world. It will irrupt again if the goddess at Jashat becomes sufficiently angry."

"Mostin said there were others," Eadric grimaced.

Nehael nodded. "One rages amid nightmares; another has set itself up in mockery of the Enforcer; the last…may prove the most dangerous."

"You offer little reassurance," the _Ahma_ said bleakly. "This last – what can you tell me of it?"

"It is _her_," Nehael spoke carefully. "The Fires of Death. Or as close as you will come to encountering her without actually meeting her. She may bring cohesion to the remaining hierophants amongst the Cheshnite sect. She is abroad, but I do not know _where_, or exactly _why_. Powerful magic obscures her."

"Even from you?"

"Especially from me."

"And there are no limits imposed upon her actions? Why was I led to believe that Kaalaanala was _confined_; her remit strictly curtailed?"

"So it is," Nehael scowled. "Or all of Wyre should burn."

"Then is it as Nwm asserts? That the Goddess grows dark?"

"Our mood is various," Nehael observed laconically. "Or had this fact escaped you?"

"The movement is chaotic. I cannot find purchase," Eadric stopped walking.

A long silence followed.

"What of Soneillon?" Nehael inquired archly. Her gaze penetrated him.

Eadric replied with a pointed look. "It is a meeting which I am content to forestall for as long as possible."

"I ask because you should expect her. She perceives your Flame, albeit indirectly; she knows how bright it burns. She covets it, or is drawn to it like a moth. And it is Midwinter; the Sun is weakest."

"Your words are not comforting. Mostin informs me that she has undergone a 'great rapture.'"

"Her power is formidable," Nehael said plainly. "She is her own locus: of Dream, Oblivion, Delirium – imbued by the Blackthorn. Trace her passage, Eadric: she has been celestial, infernal, demonic; unbecome, a nightmare; something impossible, now perylene. More infinities collide in her than can be counted. She may be insane – psychotic – by  your standards, but to characterize her as _evil_ would be to reduce her complexity to a single dimension. Although I believe you already know this."

"You sound sympathetic."

"That would be natural: it is who I am. She is as I, maybe, on a different path. Perhaps we run contraparallel; each anathema to the other. Force cannot overcome her now, unless some sovereign strength is invoked. And it is she who is in possession of the _Urn_."

"Then how would you suggest that I deal with her?" He groaned.

"Naturally," Nehael laughed, "…naturally. But I see this prospect somehow disturbs you?"

"She remains my greatest weakness," Eadric acknowledged. "Or one of them."

"Maybe less than you are hers. And what of Shomei?"

"Must you always be so perceptive?"

"Goddess is manifold," Nehael smiled. "And little escapes my notice. Perhaps you understand Nwm's dilemma a little better."

"Shomei makes inquiries in my direction to gauge my disposition."

"You sound sympathetic," Nehael remarked drily.

"I am," Eadric admitted. "Insofar as I _trust_ her; I understand her."

"As she was, maybe. But as she is?"

Eadric considered. "Shomei is always in process; I think she would reject any static characterization."

"I have spoken with her," Nehael's voice was subdued. "She has set herself tasks which are suitably unattainable. My concern is that she may drag the World into ruin in her effort toward self-mastery. Her revelation within the Fane at Morne: what is your reaction to _that?_"

"I am unsure," Eadric said apprehensively. "Although I find myself in a state of at least partial agreement with the Irrenite faction, and how they have chosen to interpret it."

Nehael raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"They are calling it the _Third Turning of Saizhan_."

"The Third?" A look of mild puzzlement crossed the face of the goddess. "Did I miss one?"

"_Skôhsldaúr_, the Gate of Demons," Eadric explained. "I am designated as its unfortunate patron and exemplar. And there are enough demons left in the World. _Faheth_, any advice you have to offer on how to proceed would be appreciated."

"You choose now to name me thus?"

"It is how I would relate to you."

Nehael sighed. "Somehow you must impress the notion of compassion upon Shomei. She still conflates it with sentiment; she needs to understand that it is rational."

"I was unable when she was mortal; how am I to believe that it will be possible now that she is a devil?"

"I didn't say it would be easy," Nehael smiled. "I, for one, have met with little success. But, as you have pointed out, she is in process."

"And otherwise?"

"Exercise compassion yourself. You cannot teach what you do not demonstrate."


**


Nivorn – a rocky peninsula eighty miles long, extending into the sea to the east of the conflict – was attached to Wyre by a broad isthmus and boasted impressive natural defenses. Much of its coast was sheer cliff, pierced by a handful of protected harbors. An encircling row of peaks enclosing a high plateau, cloven by a wide, deep lake comprised Nivorn's interior. 

Successive Wyrish kings had attempted to annex the foreland; all had met with failure. By their own vows, the lairds were bound in tribute to Morne. In practice, it had not been exacted for generations from most: like the inhabitants of Ardan – to whom they were related – the Nivornese were generally considered intractable, often maniacal, and best left to their own devices. They feuded interminably amongst themselves; vendettas a thousand years old still raged. A previous king, Tulgus – regarded as the greatest of the Gultheins – had established a line of border forts in southern Wyre to prevent major incursions; drunken raids to abduct womenfolk and livestock still occasionally occurred, but were immediately met with fierce punitive strikes. An uneasy truce prevailed.

It was upon a densely wooded island within the lake – called Sooile by the natives – that Temenun had elected to establish a stronghold, placing himself under the protection of the Cherry which now grew there.

The Tiger’s choice to defy the other immortals – and the Fires of Death herself – was not made lightly. But Temenun was ever his own master; he would not bow now, even to a _Bhiti_ such as Kaalaanala, and throwing himself at the mercy of the Cherry – on the surface a highly risky proposition – was made in full consciousness: whatever dark prolepsis had served the Ak’Chazar for twenty millennia and had prompted him to his action, was the same faculty – the only thing, in fact – that he had come to trust.

His Naztharunes, who may have numbered in the dozens or in the thousands, accompanied their overlord without question. A clique of _Anantam_ magi – those most uncomfortable with the current political climate and the direction offered by Anumid – also joined him. His armored legions, for the most part half-giants from Danhaan, the Tiger had left to whatever fate might befall them – such were the vicissitudes of service to an immortal such as Temenun.

Only hours after he had established his redoubt – a region of twisted vines and briars, from the center of which the Cherry scion itself emanated invisible lures across the island – news reached the Tiger of Kaalaanala’s fourfold effluxion, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. Here, at least, he was now safe from the Embassy; the last, most potent, most deadly of the avatars. The one which might force him to do the bidding of the Fires of Death. The others – even Idyam – would necessarily capitulate to whatever demands were imposed upon them.


Thoughts of Void, of _Tamasah_ – the final darkness – he allowed to slip from his mind. Nothing was so pressing; or rather, Nothing now seemed less pressing. The poisoned fruits which grew nearby – familiar fruits, from beyond the southern deserts – were a source of comfort to him. And, finally, it was _warm_.

Temenun relaxed. Throile was but a footstep away. Perhaps he would pay a visit: the jungles there held many secrets. And Soneillon’s cabal – now that their mistress had abandoned them – might prove amenable if offered sufficient inducements.


**


It was dark when Eadric returned to Galda. Wearily, he dismounted and gave an ironic smile: _Narh_ was tireless, and despite having been ridden hard for six hundred miles that day, the steed seemed fresh as though led from a month's pasturing. He realized that he himself had had no real rest for weeks – since long prior to his own _reincarnation_. Eadric unharnessed the stallion, bade him run free until dawn, and trudged through the camp on foot, his saddle cast over his shoulder. Bestowing nodding blessings upon sentries as he went, and a glare in the direction of rowdy Ardanese mercenaries celebrating the winter _Tagamuos_, he made his way to his pavillion.

He pulled the heavy fur drape closed across the opening to the tent, and illumination was dimmed; canvas filtered the light of campfires to a dull, flickering glow. Eadric unbuckled _Lukarn_, set his shield upon its stand, threw off begrimed armor, and sat for an hour in _saizhan_ before entering the _Fultum_ meditation: a steadfastness in the face of all doubt, and a protection against forces – or impulses – which might otherwise assail him. 

He lit a narrow taper and placed it on a simple altar with a winter garland, and offered prayers to the _Eleos_: for the protection of the souls around him; for the safe passage of those lost at Fumaril; for mercy upon those within the orbit of the scion at Deorham; for the succour of his servants and those within his own household. Finally, he arose, extinguished the light, and cast himself, exhausted, onto his pallet. As visions and half-remembered ideas played across his consciousness, for a fleeting moment, the recollection of an insight which had been instrumental in shaping his understanding of the World.

Immediately, the familiar scent of lotus and sandalwood as lips and hair brushed his cheek; a soft body pressed eagerly against him. An oval face. Eyes, like pits of ravenous darkness. Power, as he had never before sensed. Somehow, Eadric wondered whether he had himself, in fact, invoked her.

"This tack will not be effective," he said plainly. 

"May I stay?" Her whisper conveyed urgent need. 

"I am in no mood to argue, Soneillon. I am tired. Let me sleep."

Fingernails briefly threatened to become talons – or something far worse – and then relaxed.

"As you wish, _Ahma_." Her eyelids closed; a fuliginous wing cracked open and encompassed him, settling over him like a blanket.

"Your egregiousness would seem undiminished," Eadric sighed. "Although I see you are not otherwise as you were. What do you hope to achieve by this? Do you really expect me to trust any façade which you present to me? That I can say with surety that you have not previously placed a spell on me? Perhaps I'm now to believe that I am the last thread of sanity to which you cling?"

But the demoness was silent; she was already enmeshed in some chthonic nightmare. 

_Or do not._ Again, as always, her passivity – her apparent vulnerability – confounded him. In the dim light he studied her, touching her neck and shoulders uncertainly and tracing brutal scars: the legacy of wounds bestowed by his own hand. After so long, were they real, or an artifice? Was she? Did it matter? And what reason did he actually _have_ to doubt her? Had she ever been anything other than entirely honest with him? No, he was obliged to concede. _Saizha, Ahma?_ 

One must encounter the Void on its own terms.

She stirred uneasily.

He closed his eyes, and slept.



*


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Note on Soneillon and the Urn*


The compound-templated Soneillon, technically an Elite Advanced Paragon Pseudochthonic Spellwarped Monster of Legend Succubus, in possession of the augmentations granted by the _Urn_ and by her normal suite of transvalent buffs. Soneillon's abilities include +5 inherent bonuses. Soneillon is also considered an abomination, and gains the abilities normally associated with such.

Although technically without DvR, Soneillon's approximate power is that of a lesser goddess; she is the third of the triune which includes the DvR6 Viridescent Nehael and a DvR3 Enkindled Shomei. All can be considered coëval multiparadigmatic expressions of _Goddess_ within the larger framework; although, perhaps _Antigoddess_ is a better way of describing Soneillon in more conventional terms: she challenges the limit to which notions of _Goddess_ may be applied. 

Ontically, the triptych can be superficially undersood as representing Being (Nehael), Becoming (Shomei) and Non-Being (Soneillon). In fact, the relationship is more complex, with Soneillon also representing _Nothing Becomes_ (a positive assertion of the reification of Void); Shomei acting to place _Being_ secondary in importance to _Becoming_ (expressed as _Nothing Is_), and Nehael negating the existential(?) truth of Non-Being – i.e. _Nothing Is Not_. 

The totality is reflective of the central transmetaphysical paradox of _Saizhan_ itself. Alternatively, the sexual connotations are arousal (Nehael) and crescendo (Shomei), with Soneillon herself linked with the annihilation of the self at the moment of orgasm.

She arguably interfaces with more infinities than any other entity, and – as Nehael observes – Soneillon's  history from her own perspective appears to be celestial, then diabolic, then demonic, then chthonic, then oneiric, then pseudonatural; finally manifested in a context which is Green. The paragon template is bestowed by the Blackthorn-_ludja_, but at a price: her autonomy is compromised when she manifests within finitude, and she must accept a kind of "mundanity;" Void is captured by _Ens_ and given discrete form. Furthermore, Soneillon's distancing of herself from the Cherry-_ludja_ (representative of desire) – which eagerly seeks her – can be understood as a denial of her own implicit nature, or a relegation of her sexuality, as well as a transcendence of it.

Within the Cheshnite paradigm as interpreted by Temenun, Soneillon is _Pramaade Gu Kaamaah_ (In Delirium, Void Lusts), _Asampra-Gyaata Pramaadah_ (Delirium Dream-Ecstasy), _Kaalakamala_ (Lotus of Death), or, more informally, _Aasyacheshna Phalam_ (lit. "The Mango in Cheshne's Mouth" – i.e. the apple of her eye). She is also understood as _Taarakacheshna_ (the Eye of Cheshne) both literally and figuratively; she is linked with the star of the same name, and her esoteric "day" begins with its anticulmination at the Necropolis of Khu.

The involvement of Delirium as a precursor state somehow necessary for the irruption of the Apparition – the manifestation of Demogorgon-Cheshne within the bounded cosmos – is not clear. Nor is the extent of the identity of Delirium with _Uzzhin_ – the Far Realm of Metagnostic praxis: it should be noted that Mostin asserts that they are unidentical, and that Delirium is best understood as possessing elements of Void and Dream as well as "Outside-ness." Soneillon thus also describes an elemental, chaotic-disintegrative process of unbecoming in which _Nothing Becomes_ becomes _Becomes Nothing_.


Soneillon is extraordinarily resistant to all forms of attack: epic spells or SDAs are an absolute requirement when dealing with her. I've tagged her CR at 60 – or 72 in possession of _Pharamne's Urn_ – but even that seems a little conservative: template combinations are somewhat unpredictable. To reliably penetrate her SR and Saves would require a spell of approximately 350th order (unmitigated DC) by an epic caster such as Nwm or Mostin. 

Soneillon's stats are constructed like this:

8 14 13 12 10 15 elite array
10 16 15 18 14 31 succubus racial adjustment
10 16 15 18 14 37 advancement by HD
15 21 20 23 19 42 inherent bonuses
25 31 30 33 29 52 chthonic
47 41 40 33 39 52 pseudonatural
51 43 44 37 39 52 spellwarped
61 49 54 39 41 56 monster of legend
76 64 69 54 56 71 paragon
76 104 109 54 56 111 epic buffs
86 114 119 64 66 121 profane bonuses from _Urn_





*Soneillon Aasyacheshna Phalam*

*Size/Type: *Medium Outsider (Abomination, Augmented, Chaotic, Chthonic, Dream, Extraplanar, Evil, Paragon, Pseudonatural)
*Hit Dice: *30d8+1620+360 (2220hp)
*Initiative: *+56
*Speed: *360ft.; fly 600ft. (perfect)
*Armor Class:* 181 (+55 deflection, +52 Dex, +12 insight, +12 luck, +40 natural), touch 141, flat-footed 129
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +30/+118
*Attack: *Void tendril +132 melee (2d6+58/15-20x3 plus ontic corruption)
*Full Attack:* 12 void tendrils +132 melee (2d6+58/15-20x3 plus ontic corruption)
*Space/Reach:* 5ft./10ft.
*Special Attacks: *Augmented critical, aura of unlight, energy drain, frightful presence, improved grab, ontic corruption, spell-like abilities, spells, summon demon, tenacious wounding, utter corruption
*Special Qualities: *Blindsight 500ft,. DR 20/cold iron and epic and good, darkvision 60 ft., fast healing 20, immunities (ability drain, ability damage, acid, death effects, electricity, form-altering effects, mind-affecting effects, negative energy effects, and poison, sonic effetcs), nondetection, ontic flux, regeneration 20, resistance to cold 20 and fire 20, see in darkness, spell resistance 150, spellwarp, telepathy 1000 ft., tongues, true seeing
*Saves: *Fort +114, Ref +112, Will +88
*Abilities: *Str 86, Dex 114, Con 119, Int 64, Wis 66, Cha 121
*Skills: *Appraise +70 (embroidered items +74), Balance +99, Bluff +102, Climb +81, Concentration +97, Craft (embroidery) +70, Decipher Script +70, Diplomacy +114, Disguise +98 (+102 acting), Escape Artist +95, Forgery +70, Gather Information +98, Handle Animal +98. Hide +95, Intimidate +104, Jump +217, Knowledge (arcana) +70, Knowledge (history) +70, Knowledge (nature) +74, Knowledge (nobility) +70, Knowledge (the planes) +70, Knowledge (religion) +70, Listen +79, Move Silently +95, Perform (dance) +98, Profession (courtesan) +71, Ride +99, Search +70, Sense Motive +73, Sleight of Hand +99, Spellcraft +177 (scrolls +181), Spot +79, Survival +71, Tumble +99, Use Magic Device +98 (scrolls +102)
*Feats: *Dark Speech, Dodge, Epic Skill Focus (Spellcraft), Epic Spell Penetration, Epic Spellcasting, Greater Spell Penetration, Improved Critical (void tendril), Improved Initiative, Mobility, Negotiator, Persuasive, Skill Focus (Spellcraft), Spell Penetration, Weapon Finesse
*Challenge Rating:* 72 (60)

*Special Attacks*

_Arcane Spellcasting:_ Soneillon casts spells as a 30th-level sorcerer; in addition, she can cast any Darkness, Destruction, Dream, Evil or Madness domain spell as an arcane spell. She need not utilize material components in her spellcasting, and incurs no experience point cost for spells which normally demand it: Soneillon can hence apply up to a –200 DC mitigating factor against any epic spell which she casts.
_Augmented Critical:_ All of Soneillon's natural attacks threaten on an attack roll of 15-20 and 
benefit from a x3 critical multiplier.
_Aura of Unlight (Su):_ Soneillon radiates an aura of unlight which extends to 10 feet. Treat this as a _deeper darkness_ spell, but nonchthonic creatures within the aura automatically gain 1d4 negative levels every round. Spell resistance is effective against level loss from the aura of unlight, but even creatures normally immune to energy drain and negative energy effects are otherwise subject to it. The aura of unlight may be suppressed or resumed as a free action. It may be dispelled, but Soneillon may reactivate it as a free action on her next turn. Caster Level 30th. A DC 93 Fortitude save must be made after 24 hours to recover each negative level. The Save DC is Charisma-based, and includes a +13 insight bonus.
_Frightful Presence (Ex):_ Enemies within 20 feet with fewer HD than Soneillon must make a Will saving throw (DC 93) or become shaken -  a condition which lasts until the opponent is out of range. A successful save leaves the opponent immune to Soneillon's frightful presence for 24hrs. The frightful presence may be suppressed or resumed as a free action on Soneillon's turn. This is a mind-affecting fear effect. The Save DC is Charisma-based, and includes a +13 insight bonus.
_Improved Grab (Ex):_ If Soneillon hits an opponent of size medium or smaller with a tendril, she deals normal damage and attempts to start a grapple as a free action without provoking an attack of opportunity.
_Ontic Corruption (Ex):_ An enemy struck by one of Soneillon's void tendril attacks is permanently drained of 2d4 points of Constitution and gains 1d4 negative levels. At the same time, Soneillon regains 10 lost hit points. The DC after 24 hours to reisist permanent level loss from the ontic corruption is 93. The Save DC is Charisma-based and includes a +13 insight bonus.

_Summon Allies (Sp):_ Soneillon can summon 1d4+1 chthonic succubi as a standard action. This ability is the equivalent of an epic level spell.
_Tenacious Wounding (Ex):_ Damage sustained from Soneillon's narural attacks resists healing. Healing spells only restore 1 hit point per spell level, and natural healing of such wounds takes twice as long as normal. 
_Utter Corruption:_ All of Soneillon's spells and spell-like abilities gain the [Evil] descriptor, regardless of their function. Against good creatures, Soneillon benefits from a +4 bonus to the DC of any special abilities and to spells and spell-like abilities which she uses.

*Spell-Like Abilities:* Soneillon can use the following abilities at will: _blasphemy, detect good, detect thoughts, dream travel, greater dispel magic, greater teleport, haste, suggestion, unhallow, unholy aura_. All spell-like abilities have a caster level equal to Soneillon's Hit Dice.

*Special Qualities:*

_Change Shape (Su):_ Soneillon can assume the form of any Small or Medium humanoid.
_Ontic Flux_ (Ex): Soneillon benefits from an effect similar to a _blink_ spell, except that attacks which target incorporeal or ethereal creatures gain no special benefit, nor does Soneillon receive any special benefits to attack creatures in this state. The ontic flux may be suppressed or resumed as a free action.
_Nondetection_ (Ex): Soneillon is treated as if under a _nondetection_ spell (Caster Level 30th)
_Regeneration 20._ Epic good-aligned weapons and good-aligned spells do normal damage to Soneillon.
_See in Darkness(Su):_ Soneillon can see perfectly in darkness of any kind, even that created by _deeper darkness_ spells.
_Spellwarp (Ex):_ Spell effects which target Soneillon and fail to penetrate her spell resistance grant temporary Hit Points equal to 5x the spell's level. Temporary Hit Points gained in this fashion last for 1 hour.
_Telepathy (Su):_ Soneillon can communicate telepathically with any creature within 1000 feet which has a language
_Tongues (Su):_ Soneillon has a permanent tongues ability (as the spell, caster level 30th).
_True Seeing (Ex):_ This ability extends to 500ft. and is always active.

Soneillon has a +8 racial bonus on Listen and Spot checks.


*Spells Known*

The Save DC to resist spells cast by Soneillon is 78+ Spell Level and includes a +13 insight bonus. Against good-aligned targets, she gains a further +4 bonus. Soneillon does not require material components or foci in her spellcasting; she need pay no XP for spells which normally demand it. She gains a +6 bonus to penetrate an opponent's spell resistance.

Spells per day: 6/20/20/20/19/19/19/19/18/18. Soneillon may also cast 3 epic spells per day.

9th – _Implosion (DC87), power word kill, reality maelstrom (DC87), shapechange, utterdark, weird (DC87), wish_

8th – _Bestow greater curse (DC86), demand (DC86), discern location, earthquake (DC86), maddening scream, power word blind, power word stun_

7th – _Disintegrate (DC85), insanity (DC85), greater scrying (DC85), limited wish, sequester (DC85), vision_

6th – _Create undead, dream sight, false sending (DC84), harm (DC84), mass suggestion (DC84), probe thoughts (DC84), prying eyes_

5th – _Baleful polymorph (DC83), bolts of bedevilment (DC83), dispel good (DC83), dream, mass inflict light wounds (DC83), mirage arcana (DC83), nightmare (DC83), sending, summon monster V_

4th – _Armor of darkness, black tentacles, confusion (DC82), dimensional anchor, inflict critical wounds (DC69), know vulnerabilities (DC82), phantasmal killer (DC82), unholy blight (DC82), voice of the dragon_

3rd – _Anticipate teleportation, arcane sight, blacklight, contagion (DC81), deep slumber (DC81), glimpse of truth, magic circle against good, nondetection, rage (DC81), spell vulnerability (DC81)_


*Ongoing Transvalent Augmentations*
Soneillon gains a +40 enhancement bonus to Charisma, Constitution and Dexterity. These protections are renewed on a monthly basis; they have a CL of 150 for purposes of opposed _dispel_ checks.


*Voice of Demogorgon*
Evocation [Evil, Sonic]

*Order:* 450
*Spellcraft DC:* 186
*Components:* V, XP, Backlash, Dark Speech; see text
*Casting Time:* 1 standard action
*Range:* 200ft.
*Area:* Nonchthonic entities in a 200-ft. radius spread centered on you
*Duration:* Instantaneous
*Saving Throw:* None
*Spell Resistance:* Yes

Seeds: [Energy] (+19), [Afflict] (+14), [Ward] (+14). Factors: penetrate immunity (ad hoc +20), overcome keyed epic [Ward] (+18), emulate _blasphemy_ (+27), increase effective _blasphemy_ CL (+60), increase area by 400% (+16), increase spell penetration (+240), 1-action stilled (+22). Mitigating: XP (-200), 60d6 backlash (-60), Dark Speech (ad hoc –4).

Soneillon speaks a syllable in the Dark Speech which cannot be heard. Creatures normally immune to sonic attacks are affected by this spell, and the _Voice of Demogorgon_ is not subject to any kind of magical _silence_. 

Nonchthonic entities with less than 50HD are automatically slain when subject to this spell. Creatures with at least 50HD but fewer than 60HD are _dazed_ for 1 round and _weakened_ for 2d4 rounds when they hear the _Voice of Demogorgon_. Chthonic creatures or creatures with 60 or more Hit Dice are not subject to its effects. 

For the purposes of penetrating spell resistance, the _Voice of Demogorgon_ has a Caster Level of 150.

*Possessions*_: Pharamne's Urn_


*Pharamne's Urn in Soneillon's Hands*
Whilst Soneillon remains in possession of _Pharamne's Urn_, she gains the following benefits. They are already factored into her stat block:

+10 Profane bonus to all abilities 
+100 Competence bonus to Spellcraft checks 
+10 resistance bonus to saves 
+10 luck bonus to saves 


*The Urn*

_Pharamne's Urn_ has no fixed set of qualities, although some aspect of its generative power is technically accessible to  any who posesses the item; fundamentally, it _magnifies power_. As a transcendental artifact, the _Urn_ is properly associated with or belongs to the DvR20 realm; as such, its reality is impervious to effects generated by entities of fewer than 21 divine ranks. Only meta-transcendental beings or phenomena (Oronthon's Radiant Form, Cheshne's Dream-manifestation, the _Sela_ etc.) can act upon the _Urn_ to change or negate its essential nature.

Magical manipulation of the _Urn_ is impossible: for example, it cannot be _teleported_, or subjected to _polymorph_, and it always appears as it is (within the area of an illusion, the _Urn_ remains the _Urn_). It can only be physically handled (lifted or carried, placed inside a box or a  _bag of holding_ etc.) In this regard, it behaves as any other physical object. The _Urn_ appears as a stoppered clay amphora around twenty inches high and weighing some thirty pounds.

The power bestowed by the artifact is otherwise linked to the stature or cosmic gravitas of its owner/wielder; entities of greater potency hence derive commensurately more benefit from the _Urn_.


*Attunement*
Attunement to the _Urn_ requires one complete day. Once an entity is attuned to the artifact, it remains so thereafter, regardless of whether or not the _Urn_ stays within that creature's possession. Only entities who have undergone three or more transcendences or paradigm shifts are capable of attuning themselves to _Pharamne's Urn_. The benefits granted by attunement to _Pharamne's Urn_ are only available for as long as the _Urn_ is actually within that being's possession – held, carried on its body, or kept in an adjacent extradimensional space. 

For purposes of eligibility, a transcendence is indicated by an acquired template, a shift from one paradigm to another, or a metaphysical migration of some type: a resurrection, reincarnation, a Fall (in the case of a demon or devil) and so on. A number of characters within the story are eligible in this regard; only one of the PCs – Nwm the Preceptor – is _ineligible_ to actualize the _Urn_'s potential for purposes of attunement. As Nwm is under a Vow of Poverty, ownership of the _Urn_ would be impermissible in any case.

When the initial attunement to _Pharamne's Urn_ is made, the attuning entity chooses the benefits which the _Urn_ will convey upon it. Attunement to and possession of the artifact always conveys magical benefits equal to the total predicted wealth of a PC with a level equivalent to the creature's CR (63M in Soneillon's case). All magical benefit costs are directly additive: there is no reduction in costing multiple similar effects within a single item, nor a surcharge for multiple different effects or 'uncustomary'  effects. Unslotted effects – those that would normally require a space limitation – incur double the normal cost as usual. No restrictions exist on other items in the character's or entity's possession; careful selection of abilities to avoid overlapping bonuses or abilities can provide an enormous boost to the owner's power. Assume that the _Urn_ increases the effective Challenge Rating of any creature which possesses it by around 20%.

Once determined, the benefits remain fixed for that entity; if the possessor of the _Urn_ later increases in (unadjusted) CR – for example by acquiring class levels or a template – these benefits may evolve and increase, or additional benefits may be accrued. The _Urn_ always bestows at least three discrete magical benefits; none of these benefits may exceed one third of the total value of the _Urn_ relative to the creature's unadjusted CR.

For example, a 20th-level Sorcerer in possession of the _Urn_ (total predicted wealth value 760,000gp) and capable of attuning herself and actualizing it might choose the following benefits:

an ongoing CL20 _nondetection_ effect [no space limitation] (120,000)
a +30 competence bonus to Bluff checks [no space limitation] (180,000)
a +30 competence bonus to Spellcraft checks [no space limitation] (180,000)
a +5 luck bonus to saving throws [no space limitation] (100,000)
a +5 deflection bonus to AC [no space limitation] (100,000)
a +6 enhancement bonus to Charisma [no space limitation] (72,000)

If the base CR of the character subsequently increases, he or she may improve existing bonuses or add additional effects up to his or her predicted wealth by level.



*Generative Power*
The _Urn_'s generative power is available to any in possession of the artifact. The owner of _Pharamne's Urn_ may create a demiplane coterminous with his or her current location as though using a _genesis_ spell; alternatively, the Urn's power may be invoked to override prevailing conditions on the plane upon which the user is situated, replacing them with a local _genesis_ effect. The user must, however, pay the normal XP cost associated with _genesis_ (5000XP). Subsequent uses of _genesis_ may increase the size of the demiplane normally; in each case, the XP cost must be paid. Using this ability nominally requires 1 week.

The size of the demiplane created, the speed of creation, and the extent to which the creator of the demiplane may determine its various traits are otherwise governed by the DvR of the entity manipulating the _Urn_, or by direct magical or supernatural power:

•	Creatures without divine rank or creatures of DvR0 use an unmodified _genesis_ effect

•	_Demi-powers _(DvR1-5) may add an additional 180ft. radius for each divine rank which they possess, and the limit of the demiplane is reached instantaneously (there is no "slow growth.") For example, a DvR4 entity could create a demiplane with an initial radius of up to 900ft., and subsequent uses would increase the radius by a like amount. Demi-powers require only one day to use the _Urn_'s ability. Demiplanes created by a power of DvR1-5 are finite, have an alterable morphic, normal magic, and normal time; any demi-power may also determine the following planar traits:

o	_Gravity:_ A demi-power may imbue the demiplane with normal, heavy or light gravity; with no gravity; or with either objective or subjective directional gravity.
o	_Mildly Aligned:_ A demi-power may apply mildly-aligned lawful, chaotic, good or evil traits to the demiplpane.
o	_Elemental and Energy Traits:_ A demi-power may create an Air-, Fire-, Water-, Earth-, Positive- or Negative-dominant demiplane​
•	_Lesser powers _(DvR6-10) increase the initial radius to one mile for each divine rank which they possess, and the limit of the demiplane is reached instantaneously: for example, a DvR8 entity could create a demiplane with an initial radius of up to 8 miles, and subsequent uses would increase the radius by a like amount. Lesser powers require only one hour to use the _Urn_'s ability; any lesser power may also imbue the demiplane with these additional planar traits:

o	_Self-Contained:_ A lesser power may create a demiplane which is recursive, self-contained, or otherwise "bends back" on itself
o	_Magically, Static or Highly Morphic:_ A lesser power may create a demiplane which is subject to specific magical manipulation, resists manipulation, or is subject to frequent and easy manipulation through spells, supernatural abilities, or force of will
o	_Temporal Traits:_ Lesser powers may bestow flowing time, erratic time or timelessness upon demiplanes which they create
o	_Flora and Fauna:_ A lesser power may populate the demiplane with a range of nonmagical and nonsapient life as it sees fit​
•	_Intermediate powers _(DvR11-15) increase the initial radius to one hundred miles for each divine rank which they possess, and the limit of the demiplane is reached instantaneously: for example, a DvR13 entity could create a demiplane with an initial radius of up to 1300 miles, and subsequent uses would increase the radius by a like amount. Intermediate powers require only one minute to use the _Urn_'s ability. In addition to traits already noted, any intermediate power may also imbue the demiplane with the following planar traits:

o	_Divinely Morphic:_ An intermediate power may create a demiplane which is subject to divine manipulation, in whole or in part, by itself or other deities or powers of its choosing
o	_Strong Alignment Traits:_ An intermediate power can imbue the demiplane with a strong chaotic, evil, good, lawful or neutral alignment trait
o	_Magic Traits:_ An intermediate power may create a demiplane with dead, impeded, wild or enhanced magic​
•	_Greater powers _(DvR16-20) experience no limit to the size of the plane created by the _Urn_'s generative ability. Greater powers require only one round to use the _Urn_'s ability; any greater power may imbue the plane with any physical, elemental, energy, alignment or magical traits. It may populate the plane with flora and fauna, or sapient and/or magical life as it sees fit.


The _Urn_ is also amenable to more direct magical or supernatural power: spellcasters or creatures with spell-like abilities may make a caster level check in lieu of divine rank; the DC to achieve the benefit of a specific divine rank is equal to 30 + (10 x the DvR to be emulated). A creature with a supernatural power which has a caster level equivalent is eligible, as is a psionic creature – in this case use the creature's manifester level. 

.


----------



## carborundum

/reaches for thesaurus

Fantastic! Absolutely fantastic!


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## Rackhir

carborundum said:


> /reaches for thesaurus




Mine exploded when I tried looking this stuff up and my spreadsheet deleted it's self when I tried running some of the numbers.

Great update as always Sepulchrave! Some surprising tenderness from Soneillon in there. Hmm, Eadric does seem to have some sort of deep attraction for demonesses. I'd almost wonder if she wasn't some sort of aspect or echo or past/future part of Nehael.


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## Salthorae

Freaking wonderfully mindbending stuff Sep!

I have been following this story for... a decade now I think, since 2001. It's one of the few things I still come to EnWorld for these days. 

Thanks for keeping up with it! We appreciate it...


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## Noir

thanks sep. always a joy to find an update waiting for you.


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## Bloodcookie

> [Gihaahia]: Don't disappoint me, Mostin.
> 
> "What is her involvement in this?" Mulissu asked, confused.
> 
> "I have no idea," Mostin was dubious. "She has never evinced any interest in my work prior to now....




I'm sure she has a perfectly rational plan motivating this intervention. One might even call it a _*plot*_.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Midwinter Goddess - Part 2 (and 3)*


“How many is that?” Teppu asked.

Nehael groaned. “Too many. She is out of her mind. I make three Antagonists; six others who were once episemes;  around fifty recently-migrated devas – most of whom were exemplars. She began conjuring pit fiends and malebranche – presumably for heavy lifting tasks – but would appear to be taking a break. She seems to be avoiding magnates from the traditional order – for the time being, at least.”

“Does she have a purpose? What did she reveal to you?”

“Little,” Nehael shrugged. “She will be hard-pressed to control them all.”

“Do you believe that she will make an immediate bid for the _Urn_?”

“Shomei is not one for procrastination,” Nehael sighed. “But nor is she ignorant of the difficulty of the task. She will weigh probabilities carefully.”


**
**


When he awoke, it was light. Her face was inches away. He groaned.

An eyelid flickered open. Void bored into him. 

“Why are you here?” He asked.

She stood slowly and stretched, her wings unfurling to their maximum extent – and briefly darkening reality – before retracting. She turned to face him.

“I get lonely,” she smiled, tilting her head. “Sometimes, cold.”

“And how did you circumvent the wards?”

She laughed. “I _dream_, Eadric.”

Casting her eyes around the interior of the tent, her gaze settled on _Lukarn_. She raised an eyebrow.

Before he could mouth an objection – faster, even than he could articulate the thought to do so – she had moved and drawn the weapon from its scabbard. She seemed to absorb its light effortlessly.

“I remember you,” she whispered to the sword, running a forefinger along its fuller. “You don’t like me very much, do you?” 

“I notice that your scars seem to have vanished,” Eadric observed without humour.

“They come and go,” she replied vaguely. She brandished _Lukarn_ deftly, flipped the blade over and caught it by the tip between two fingers, presenting him with its hilt. “Did you wish to cause more?”

“No.” He set the sword down firmly next to him. “And I doubt this weapon is adequate to the task, in any case.”

“Move up,” she kicked his feet. “It is time you understood a few things.”

He drew his knees in, and she sat, cross-legged upon the narrow pallet, sable wings drawn around her like a bat. From beneath them, her hand appeared holding a plain clay jug. She placed it squarely between them.

“It is unremarkable, would you not say?”

Eadric was silent; his perception twisted and span.

“For a long while,” the demoness continued, “I wondered why Kaalaanala did not simply _take_ it from me. I was there when she reified, Eadric: it was glorious; something to behold. At any rate, the question puzzled me: I know that _I_ would have certainly taken it from _her_, had our roles been reversed.”

“And have you determined an answer?”

“No,” she shrugged. “I gave up looking for one. There comes a point where one must concede that there are things which cannot be known; and there are too many plausible _theories_: the Aeon forbade it; Cheshne forbade it; a deal was struck between Uedii and Cheshne – are they different, in any case? And so on, and so forth. The _Urn_ has great power, Eadric – of that there can be no doubt. In the hands of a goddess such as the Fires of Death, its destructive  – which is to say its _generative_ potential focused toward an absence of matter and energy – would be great. But her remit is limited: she cannot leave Jashat, nor her direct influence extend beyond it: she is the black dart, stuck in Uedii’s green shield. Aggravating, unbalancing, but ultimately unmoving. And she lacks a certain _perspective_ required to realize the _Urn_ in full. Perhaps a deeper Void perceived this truth. I cannot say.”

“And this _perspective_ is something which you possess, I presume?” 

“Not exactly,” Soneillon replied unexpectedly. “I aberrate, Eadric. My path is not _conventional_, as you may have noticed. The _Urn_ is a great boon to me, but I also lack a certain something. The demiplanes which I created which abut Throile – which still persist, incidentally – were the labor of many years. Entities with more…wherewithal…in this regard are empowered to make more effective use of the _Urn_’s generative power.”

Eadric gave an inquiring look.

“That would be your other girlfriend,” Soneillon smiled innocently. 

*

“It becomes more complicated,” Soneillon continued.

“I had a feeling it might.”

“What do you know of the _I_?”

“I mislike the direction of this conversation already,” Eadric sighed. “Enough to know that it would be foolish to be complacent regarding its motivation.”

“The _I_ is tenacious,” Soneillon nodded, “and will seek to survive despite all other indicators to the contrary. It fragmented in order to preserve itself, with a notion to recombine at a later time. And a vehicle – something _exempt_ from the normal rules – to allow this to occur.”

“Shomei?”

“Yes. Your other other girlfriend.” Soneillon said lightly.

Eadric grunted. “I am tired of hearing this. Nehael also accused me of as much.”

“Then the green bitch is not entirely stupid,” Soneillon gave a sweet smile. “Not everything is about sex, Eadric. At least, not in the beginning.”

“I do not regard Shomei in this fashion.”

“Yet you evince a particular sympathy for her perspective?”

“She is complex. As to our philosophical differences, we reached…an understanding. I care for her wellbeing.”

“And you find her attractive?”

“She is comely enough, I would say.”

“And she, you?” Soneillon pressed on, evidently enjoying the line of questioning. “How does Shomei the Infernal relate to the _Ahma_, who is – or at least _was_ – central to her paradigm?”

“I cannot speak to that,” Eadric sighed. “She has never demonstrated anything other than…” He paused, and considered. 

“A measure of doubt crosses your face.”

“I had simply not considered that she is even capable of being driven erotically. It seems somehow… beneath her.”

Soneillon laughed, and it seemed warm and heartfelt. “Ah, _Ahma_. No wonder you interested me so: you are truly guileless. And you attach such _virtue_ to chastity; a line of examination which we might pursue at some later time. Shomei is fired by deep passions, Eadric, and to suggest that she is somehow asexual or frigid is to misunderstand her absolutely. But her lovers have been – and remain – devilish, for the most part; I realize that these are not the social circles in which you are wont to move. And her façade is well-practiced: she is discreet; no brazen harlot.”

“Where is this leading, Soneillon?”

“Consider your subsequent interactions with her in the light of this perspective, and form your own judgment.” 

“But why do you speak of Shomei at all?”

The demoness cast her eyes downward, toward the amphora which sat between them.

“Shomei wants the _Urn_?”

“That girl always had ideas above her station,” Soneillon sighed. “The devils which she currently conjures will be deployed against me. She will make her move in due course.”

Eadric was aghast. “Deorham…”

“Will likely be a violent and unpleasant locale. By the way, I have done nothing to harm your thralls – I’m sorry, you’d prefer a euphemism – although many have been _altered_ by the scion. But my own demons are becoming impatient: at some point, I will need to either deploy them or disband them. Think on this, and we’ll come back to it. May I go on?”

Eadric nodded grimly.

“Shomei needs the power offered by the _Urn_ in order to master Hummaz,” Soneillon continued. “To consolidate the various components of the _I_; to make herself whole. I’m disappointed that Nehael did not share this information with you; still we each have our own agenda.”

Eadric scowled. “It was Nehael who suggested that I remain open to discourse with you.”

“I despise her less already,” the demoness raised her eyebrows.

“You are not seriously suggesting that Nehael is manipulating me against my best interests?”

“Of course. To promulgate empathy is her _agenda_. That may involve a lack of full disclosure.”

“As your agenda is to sow dissension and madness?” Eadric smiled, and shook his head.

“No. But we’ll come to that.”

*

“It gets more complicated,” Soneillon warned.

“This should be good.”

“There is a spell – _A Flame Precedes the Aeon_. It was dictated by Rintrah the Messenger to Jovol the Grey; the wizard Tozinak currently has it in his possession. It is conceptualized in terms of Urgic altitudes, and requires that a naked iota of Radiance be present, and the _Urn_ also, and one who has shaken off their reality – several times, in fact. Its timing is also crucial – certain astrological windows must be observed.

“I see that you were not aware of the origin of this spell,” Soneillon sighed, and continued. “Nor, indeed is Tozinak. The Regents of the Purifying Wind bestowed it upon Rintrah – episemes lack aptitude for this kind of magic; it was, in fact, formulated in the Sovereign Sphere. But it was _contrived_ in the Infinitudes; in the Mind of God – your God. Or your previous god; your bent would seem more theacentric of late: a tendency I am obliged to commend.”

A look of sheer bewilderment crossed the _Ahma_’s face.

“You have a question?” Soneillon seemed amused.

“This spell can somehow be used to create a set of circumstances which allow the wielder of the _Urn_ greater latitude in exercising its generative power?”

“No,” Soneillon smiled. “The spell summons Pharamne. At which point all other considerations are moot.”

“The Dragon coils around the Tree…”

“Where have you been, I wonder?” Her surprise seemed genuine.

“What else do you know of this spell? How do you know so much? Mostin spoke of it.”

“It has preoccupied my thoughts for some time; I made inquiries. Mostin has seen the pattern in the broadest sense, but does not understand the specifics of the language. I have asked Tozinak to transcribe it for me. But there has been a complication. In the form of the Cherry.”

“And why, precisely, are you telling me all of this?” Eadric’s head throbbed. “It would seem to be contrary to your interests in all regards.”

“Because you are the _Ahma_, _Ahma_. You are incandescent: I see you with clear eyes. I am mad – didn’t you know?”

“And you trust that I will not somehow use this information against you?”

“Dear Eadric,” Soneillon touched his face. “Trust has nothing to do with it. Do you not understand? You cannot _hurt_ me unless I allow it – which I might, in a certain context, if it gave you pleasure. At least, you cannot hurt me _yet_. I am beyond your power. You still insist on seeing things in terms of good and evil; we and they; this and that: you need to put these notions behind you. There are simply _factions_ in the World: they move; interact; communicate. But the World itself is an innocent playground, Eadric. Things are as they are.”

“And what is your _agenda_ with regard to this spell?” 

“It is through me that the shadow of Cheshne seeks to manifest; and thence, through the _Urn_, to bring an end to reality. But there is something which you need to understand.”

“Why do I get the feeling that this is the crux of your argument?”

“It is not _my_ agenda. I do not _want_ this, Eadric. I have no _desire_ to be the architect of the annihilation of the World. I do not _wish_ to marry the Cherry to the Blackthorn in myself; to invoke the Apparition and bring an end to all things. I have avoided the Cherry for that reason, amongst others. ”

“Then what do you want, Soneillon?” 

“I want to play, _Ahma_. I just want to play. I like things just as they are.”

“You are beyond mad, Soneillon. And you intimate at ‘truths’ which I can barely begin to comprehend, much less accept. Tell me this, and this simply: _why should I believe you?_”

“Cheshne is not her shadow, Eadric. Nor is she her cult. And, as I said some time ago – and had you been paying attention, and less intent on smiting me, you might have heard it  –  _The Void Shines_; still, I would not deny you your passions. I precipitate both pain and joy, Eadric, and in bliss transcend both. I am the Fruit in the Void; the Mango in Cheshne’s Mouth.”

*

“You may be the most dangerous entity I have ever encountered.”

“I am flattered, and will not argue the point. But you answer me _this_,” Soneillon fixed him with her gaze – and he knew that it alone might deprive him of his very existence, were she so to choose. “Have I ever, to your certain knowledge, either directly or indirectly, caused an innocent to come to harm? Unless you count Hlioth amongst the innocent, which would mark you as an idiot in my mind.”

“There are tales…”

“There are many tales, Eadric. Answer the question.”

“No,” he groaned. He knew that whatever the Blackthorn had caused to pass, was beyond her power to control.

“And if not by my action, then how will you judge me?”

“I cannot,” he conceded.

“Thank-you,” she said. She rose and replaced the _Urn_ in its hiding place. Her humour seemed to have left her.

“Soneillon…”

“Think on it, Eadric. In some ways, it was a disappointing night; in others, it was all I needed. Besides, I am patient. I should probably leave, now – I would hate to cause a scene.”

“Why do I…”

[Shomei]: You asked to speak with me directly, _Ahma_. May I translate to your location?

[Eadric]: Very well. Give me a minute. Come alone.

“Eadric,” Soneillon spoke swiftly and earnestly, “if you come to Deorham, I will act as guarantor of your safety. You need not fear the scion; I can ward you from its influence. I have not interfered with the chapel; it is no less holy to me than to you: something which was difficult to impress upon your brother. Also, the mattress there is larger and more comfortable.”

She dissolved into mist.

_Orm?_ He sat for a moment in a state of utter confusion.

“Another devil to see you, _Ahma_,” the voice of a messenger spoke presently from outside of the tent.

He closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. “Show her in.”


**
**


“Sandalwood?” Shomei caught the scent in the air. She glanced around, absorbing the minutest detail of the tent’s interior in an instant. It seemed barren; her host was half-clad.

Eadric looked at her. He had not seen her since that fateful day in Afqithan when three of the _Akesoli_ had dragged her screaming, dissociate form into Hell. Ortwine had encountered her since, but Eadric found the sidhe’s description – however eloquent – did not do Shomei justice.

A robe of purple so dark as to be almost black shrouded her slight frame; within it, fields of stars seemed to fall in perpetual torrents. Upon her forehead, she bore the intimation of a mark or brand which, if observed directly, faded from view. Her features were otherwise her own – although in some fashion she blended the qualities of her two _simulacra_, as though they were her precursors and not her magical progeny. Infernal now by nature, without question, but also much more; she was at ease with her own power in a way which he had never before thought possible. Something about her – and recently, Eadric knew – had simply _ignited_. She was sheer, dynamic force.

“You cannot trust her,” Shomei said directly.

“Perhaps not. Questions of trust seem to preoccupy me of late. You do not bear your rod.”

“I am not here to coerce you, _Ahma_.” She retrieved _Lukarn_ from the pallet, slid it into its scabbard, and handed it to him with a raised eyebrow. 

“No,” Eadric took the weapon. “You are here to ask for my permission – my _blessing_ if you will – for an assault upon Soneillon. I cannot grant it, Shomei. It would mean the destruction of all of western Trempa.”

“She sits on an army of demons; I cannot believe that you would simply endure this imposition.”

“Demons which have yet to demonstrate any ill-will toward my….subjects… on the part of their mistress.”

Shomei looked sceptical. “If she has found her way back into your bed, _Ahma_, you might also consider that your judgment is impaired.”

“Ngaarh!” Eadric groaned. 

She inspected her surroundings, looking for a place to sit.

“_Ahma_,” Shomei ventured, choosing to redirect the conversation, “your accommodations are spartan and unwelcoming. If I might…?”

“I had not given thought to it; I require little. Do as you wish, if you would prefer more easement.”

She made the briefest gesture, and the interior of the tent transformed into an opulent pavillion, festooned with deep blues and vermillions. A table lay replete with exquisite wines and confections; sumptuous leather chairs, chests, wardrobes and velvet couches appeared; his pallet became a wide bed, draped with furs. Eadric’s armor sprang from the ground onto a stand, perfectly burnished. Exotic rugs from Bedesh carpeted the floor, and incense burned upon a small altar; the scent of cinnamon hung heavy in the air. A purplish light – with no discernible source – suffused the place.

“I confess, I like my creature comforts,” Shomei smiled, seeming to relax. She poured a goblet of _kschiff_ and handed it to him.

Eadric took it suspiciously, then downed the liquor in a single draught. His head span.

“Whatever she said to you, _Ahma_,” Shomei continued, offering him a candied chestnut, “it would be unwise to afford it too much credence, until you have had time to reflect. I don’t doubt that she evoked some compelling vision of the World, with disparaging – and highly plausible – remarks made regarding my disposition and motivation.”

She opened a dresser, and presented him with a heavy robe of ermine. 

“That is an accurate assertion,” Eadric nodded in gratitude, drawing the vestment about himself, and sinking into a chair. “Shomei, I should like to ask you some questions.”

“Of course,” she sat opposite, hands folded lightly in her lap.

 “How do you propose to overcome Hummaz, Shomei?”

“You have spoken with Nehael, then?”

“No – yes. But it was Soneillon who informed me of your plan.”

“I do not have a _plan_ yet, _Ahma_. Merely a direction; a course which I must inevitably chart. There are signs along the way – I write them myself.”

“And _Pharamne’s Urn_ is one of these signs?”

“Indeed,” Shomei nodded. “I would venture to suggest that this artifact is also far _safer_ in my hands than most others.”

“Others such as Soneillon?”

“Soneillon is advised by Vhorzhe, _Ahma_ – a monster who was once Mostin’s mentor, and who now persists in a state of pseudodaemonic insanity. _Uzzhin_ penetrates every aspect of her mind and her formless form. Would it be correct for me to assume that she did not evince this particular aspect of her psychology – nor her _physiology_, in fact – in your recent exchange?”

“She did not,” Eadric admitted. “Presumably in order to spare me undue stress.”

“That would be one way of explaining her motivation,” Shomei gave a small smile.

“Soneillon is fully conscious of her own psychosis, Shomei.”

“Yes, _Ahma_. She is. Doesn’t that fact concern you?” 

She held the flask of _kschiff_ above his glass and gave an inquiring look.

He nodded.

*

“Your _intervention_ in the Temple is causing a stir,” Eadric remarked. “The Irrenites are already enshrining your words as doctrine.”

“In which case they are missing the point entirely,” Shomei sighed.

“Your revelation is rather opaque.”

“I should hope so. The principal point of revelation is to make people _think_.”

“And you do not believe your act was rather…presumptuous?” Eadric inquired.

“Yes. And necessarily so. Many of those who practice _Saizhan_ are slipping into a kind of existential torpor. They need to wake up.”

“Is it your understanding that Oronthon inspired you to this course of action?” Eadric asked.

“In a manner of speaking; although I do not locate Oronthon external to myself after the fashion of Orthodoxy.”

“I understand,” Eadric nodded. 

“Let me ask you, _Ahma_: has the _Sela_ made comment on my actions?”

“He inquired as to the aesthetics of your inscription.” Eadric smiled.

“And?”

Eadric laughed. “Upon hearing that your script was in keeping with the prevailing design of the Temple interior, seemed satisfied.”

“Good,” she poured more _kschiff_.

*

“Do you have an erotic interest in me, Shomei?”

“You are drunk, _Ahma_, and it is not even mid-morning. Perhaps you should stop.”

“No, pour me another. The question stands.”

She sighed, and refilled his goblet. “I see things primarily in terms of alliances, _Ahma_; I am rational, and eminently practical. I enjoy physical recreation as much as the next devil, but I am not driven by my carnality, insofar as I do not let it dictate my choices.”

“Not dictate,” Eadric suggested, “but inform?”

“Perhaps,” she acknowledged. “But I have no need of a lover, _Ahma_, if that is what you are suggesting.”

“I am not. You have infernal servants who fulfill this role?”

“Yes.”

“And as to a spouse?”

She set her glass down. “That, _Ahma_, is an entirely different proposition. Marriage is an _alliance_. Connubial duties must be taken very seriously, especially amongst immortals – where a dispute can last for decades, and the results of a spat be felt for a millennium. Is this interrogation leading somewhere specific?”

“No,” Eadric said hastily. “I am merely attempting to ascertain your motives with regard to me. Both Nehael and Soneillon have suggested that our association goes beyond conventional friendship.”

“You are the _Ahma_ and I am Shomei the Infernal. We are both agents of cosmic change. How could it not?”

“The old order has vanished, Shomei, and I am still unsure of my place in the new. What is my role in your reality? What is the _Ahma_ to you?”

She pondered briefly. “A few days ago, I etched words into the archway in the Great Fane in Morne; I burned yet more into the solar orb. I planted a Hazel scion within the Temple precinct…”

“You did _what?_”

“A Hazel, _Ahma_. I assumed you would have heard. Regardless, my acts and words describe a vision – my vision – of _how things should be_. When I stood upon the threshold, a great force moved through me; it was of me, and yet not: Will was manifest in its fullest form. It was directed at the Illuminated who were gathered there, and sought to enkindle them; to bring their Flames to realization. It was inadequate to the task. I revised my strategy, in the light of something which I already knew to be fact: my energies must be devoted toward my Self. If I deviate from this Truth, I will fail.”

“And now you have set this fire in yourself,” Eadric observed. “It is immediately apparent.”

“It is a beginning,” Shomei said softly. “And I am always beginning, _Ahma_. As to your role, consider those of Morne who returned from the Serenities. Because when _your_ Flame ignites, _Ahma_, you will illuminate all of Wyre – and beyond. It will induce a torrent of Radiance which will make the cascade at Khu appear as a child’s squib in comparison. God will breathe into them all.”

Eadric stared at her, incredulous. 

“And yes, I would consider an alliance with one such as that desirable.” 

He swallowed.

“As for _compassion_,” Shomei added, “a topic which I am grateful you have avoided to this point: I believe that it is something which I would be willing to learn to practice, in the interests of preserving good relations.”

She smiled, and took a long sip of _kschiff_.



*


----------



## grodog

Thank you for the update, Sep!---and have a wonderful holiday season!


----------



## Dancer

Did Shomei just propose to Eadric?


----------



## carborundum

I'm dizzy from trying to follow the conversation. Wonderful stuff, Sep!

The mind boggles as to how you guys play this game!


----------



## Noir

happy holidays indeed!


----------



## Starman

There are several people on these boards that I would like to have as my GM. Sep is without a doubt at the top of the list.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Eadric can't marry Shomei! Shomei isn't even a succubus... or is she? They're devils, now, aren't they? 

Excellent update as always. This was particularly satisfying, though. It seemed to collect a number of threads, simplifying the situation rather than complectifying it.


----------



## grodog

Some thoughts coalescing over the past two days of re-reading the new posts, and everyone's comments thus far....

I wonder if Eadric is going to be forced to choose between his three "girlfriends"---a la Paris with Aphrodite, Athena, and Hera before the Trojan War?  If so, how can he choose?:


Neheal - first love - former succubus/demon - now a Nature goddess; Neheal doesn't really seem very interested in Eadric as a lover/spouse any longer, though, and in light of Nwm's attitudes toward the outer-planar interlopers polluting the Material Plane, I'm not at all sure that Neheal can really accept Eadric unless he undergoes a Green transformation like she did?? - her role is empathy, though, which does align well to compassion; hmmmm
Shomei - friendship with mutual respect perhaps angling toward spouse - the only one of the three that Eadric has known as a _human_, so there's a stronger connection there vs. the other two being divine/infernal/whatever; if Shomei becomes the new Adversary, and Eadric as the Ahma marries her, does that reconcile Heaven & Hell (and then, if they have children [chemical wedding??], what's that do to Orthodoxy and Saizhan?---some new savior-like figure, perhaps?); both are also huge change agents, and offer complimentary perspectives in a possibly-reconciled long-term: Shomei focused inwardly (self/challenge), Eadric focused outwardly (others/compassion-pity)
Soneillon - the only consummated love - a succubus and so much more! - offers two conflicting stances:  a) she's trying to maintain the status quo (which puts her at odds with both Eadric and Shomei as nodalities/catalysts for change); b) destroy the world/universe (what Chesne wants Soneillon to do, but which she doesn't want, and presumably no one else does either); it doesn't seem like either are viable, long-term prospects for Eadric, to me....; she also represents discord I suppose (to play off of the Eris/apples idea), too

If Eadric is forced to choose one of the three (and I'm not sure that "forced" is the right word, but it does seem like he's the monkey in the middle between them all), does he risk rekindling the war between Heaven and Hell (the Wyrish equivalent here of the Trojan War)?

Based on my (likely faulty) intuitive analysis, it seems like Shomei is Eadric's only long-term route for happiness here, although I can easily see him choosing any of the three by preference.  Hrmph.  

Need to think more


----------



## tleilaxu

i came on to post the following, but was joyful to see a new posting!

---
a meditation
the muse is ursula le guin, daughter of alfred kroeber.

'light is the left hand of darkness, and darkness the right hand of light'

the lot of the right hand of light is woe. all decisive blows are struck by the left. 
---

wonderous!


----------



## grodog

grodog said:


> Based on my (likely faulty) intuitive analysis, it seems like Shomei is Eadric's only long-term route for happiness here, although I can easily see him choosing any of the three by preference.  Hrmph.
> 
> Need to think more




Hmmmm:



> SEEING FOR THE FIRST TIME
> I-THOU
> BEING-NONBEING-BECOMING
> KNOWING-UNKNOWING SEEKING-FINDING-LOSING-FINDING
> TIME-BEING
> ETERNITY-NONBEING
> NOW-BECOMING
> EVERYTHING-NOTHING
> IDENTITY-DIFFERENCE
> RELATIVE-ABSOLUTE.
> 
> NOTHING IS.
> 
> NOTHING IS NOT.
> 
> NOTHING BECOMES.





Hmmm.


----------



## tleilaxu

"now i am going to make a statement here. i don't know whether it fits into the category of other people's statements or not. but whether it fits into their category or whether it doesn't, it obviously fits into some category. so in that respect it is no different from their statements. however, let me try making my statement. 
there is a beginning. there is a not yet beginning to be a beginning. there is a not yet beginning to be a not yet beginning to be a beginning. there is being. there is nonbeing. there is a not yet beginning to be nonbeing. there is a not yet beginning to be nonbeing. suddenly there is being and nonbeing. but between this being and nonbeing, i don't know which is being and which is nonbeing. now i have just said something. but i don't know whether what i have said has really said something or whether it hasn't said something"
-zhuangzi (watson trans.)

have fun kids, just don't hurt each other.


----------



## Siuis

I...

Wow.

Sepulchrave II, I am beyond amazed. Again.
You'd think, after learning from Mostin's notions of infinite becoming, I would stop being surprised by this.

Oh, but I suppose once I stop being surprised, the process is at an end; by it's nature I'd have to be surprised again by the next beginning for I to he a surprise beginning, and thus count...

Ach.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Midwinter Goddess – Final Part*



There was a barely audible sound; a persistent hum, which suffused perception.

_Are you asleep again already?_ The peasant-girl from Trempa looked up at him. _Ah, but I know this dreamscape well: you have been drinking kasshiv_.

The flat of his sword lay across her shoulder, two feet from the quillons. She smiled and raised an eyebrow as she turned the weapon slowly upon its edge with her fingertips; its weight broke her skin, causing her to hiss. A trickle of blood stained her white tunic.

His hands shook. She reached forward and clasped them, steadying them.

_Like this._ She drew the blade toward herself, gradually opening a wound; cold iron sank down into muscle and sinew. Her breath became rapid, and she clenched her teeth. Blood flowed freely over her. He moved to pull his hands free, but her grasp tightened. _Do not stop._

He felt the blade bite into bone, and turned his face away from her. His stomach churned and heaved.

_Look at me. Eadric…please…_

He forced his gaze back to meet her eyes, and her grip threatened to crush his wrists. _Press_. He drove down hard, shearing through her collar-bone. She sighed, and shuddered gently; Void glazed over, and she collapsed in convulsion. Blood pooled rapidly around her.

This is too much, he thought.

_No. It is the same._ She crawled forward, insensible, and clung to him.


Eadric awoke at two in the afternoon in a cold sweat. His head pounded.

*

“In Shûth.,” Nwm handed him a glass of mint tea, “_kschiff_ was originally considered a sacrament.  It is unfortunate that it has achieved the status of an inebriant amongst wealthy aristocrats in the Thalassine and further north.”

The Preceptor poured himself a small glass of the astringent liquor, savored its aroma, took a sip, and placed it aside.

“I might add,” he continued, “that attempting to match Shomei’s prolific consumption is a losing proposition – this would have been true even before her recent metamorphosis.”

Eadric moaned and sat up, shivering. He pulled his ermine robe around himself.

Nwm gave a wry smile. “But I am glad to see that the worldly goods which she bestowed upon you are also functional.”

Eadric groaned and lay back down again.

“And how goes the dialogue with Cheshne, _Ahma_?”

Eadric gestured him away.


**


“Ah, the _Goddess_,” Nwm’s eyes twinkled merrily. “What can one say? She is elusive, yet ever present; demanding and forgiving; cold and passionate. Mother, lover, sister, daughter. She is flirting with you; presenting her many faces. You should feel blessed.”

Eadric grumbled. His face was still pale. “Since when have you included Soneillon – or Shomei, for that matter – in your ever-expanding category of _Goddess_?”

Nwm smiled, and popped a fig into his mouth. “I am not the _Ahma_.”

“And Gihaahia?” Eadric asked. “Do you include her too?”

“I am not a wizard,” Nwm shrugged.

“Shomei’s taste in furnishings cannot be faulted,” Ortwine observed calmly, uncoifing her hair and relaxing into a couch. “And you have an excellent selection of wines and victuals  – some of these are the finest diabolic vintages and are no longer available. I think it’s time you placed this childish desire for frugality firmly in your past; and I see no particular need for abstemiousness whilst you are campaigning.”

“The chestnuts are rather good,” Nwm agreed. “And these little pistachio confections are simply delightful.”

“For an ascetic, you have expensive tastes,” Eadric said sourly. “Also, you seem overly eager to deify any female who crosses your path.”

“Not I,” Nwm laughed. “This conversation will inevitably lead to an examination of the _Ahma_’s psyche. Do you still wish to proceed?”

Eadric grunted. 

“Shomei’s case is well-made,” Ortwine seemed serious. “And it is high time you began to look to marriage as a means of securing power, Eadric. You are an eligible bachelor-godling; you are saintly, with impeccable credentials. You have your pick of any number of immortals and goddesses as a potential mate – most of whom are admittedly depraved or mad. Or of poor estate, such as Lai. Shomei is a fine prospect, in comparison.”

“Indeed,” Eadric stood abruptly and opened a dresser, pulling out a doublet and hastily donning it.

“She has a superb sense of style,” Ortwine looked on approvingly. “And someone certainly needs to manage your wardrobe.” 

Eadric turned. “It is an article of clothing, Ortwine. Or perhaps you’d like to marry me and see to my fashion needs?”

“I am haughty and aloof. I am also fastidious in matters of personal hygiene. We would make an unhappy couple.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

“Consider the military leverage offered by the Wyrm, Eadric,” Ortwine continued. “As well as Shomei’s conjurations. They would bring a massive strategic advantage in any dealings with the Cheshnites. You said yourself that Shomei would take any matrimonial duties seriously; as your _wife_ there is no question that she would lend her full support to your cause. Hell is no mean dowry.”

“Keep talking, Ortwine,” Eadric pulled _Lukarn_ over his shoulder, fastening his baldric. 

“I am not persuaded that you are really listening,” the sidhe sighed. “What is this sudden urgency about?”

Eadric exited the tent. Dusk was falling, and hundreds of campfires had already been lit. _Narh_ was waiting for him; he flung his saddle over the stallion’s back, and swiftly tightened the cinches. 

Ortwine followed. “Where are you going, _Ahma_?”

“Home,” Eadric replied. 

“Do I really need to point out to you that _home_ is the arbor of a highly questionable scion? Eadric. _Use your head_.”

He mounted _Narh_ and rode away.

“He is unstable,” the sidhe remarked. 

Nwm smiled. “The thought of her gnaws at him. Or have you altogether forgotten what it’s like?”

“To be ruled by irrational, seething passions? Of course not. But he, of all men, needs to master them. His political responsibilities far outweigh all other considerations. And she can’t be _that_ good.”

Nwm guffawed, and slapped Ortwine across her back. “_Responsibilities?_ A word I thought I’d never hear pass your lips in a hundred incarnations; the World is truly on its head. Come: while Eadric seeks annihilation we should avail ourselves of his wines; I fancy that I spied a bottle of almond liqueur. And as an _ascetic_, I am dependent upon the largesse of my feudal master.”

“Will you make no effort to intervene in this absurdity? He’ll listen to you.”

“No,” Nwm replied. “He won’t.”

“Very well,” Ortwine sighed. “Just don’t _touch_ me again.”


**


 [_Faheth_]: Are you then set on this course of action?

[_Ahma_]: Yes.

[_Faheth_]: I would say that you are one who experiences pleasure from bestowing it; from seeing and knowing that it is felt. That you do not derive satisfaction from causing suffering.

[_Ahma_]: I would certainly hope that to be the case.

[_Faheth_]: And when inflicting pain also elicits joy? Can you still feel happiness in the same measure?

[_Ahma_]: I do not know.

[_Faheth_]: And can you tell the difference between deriving pleasure through causing suffering, and deriving pleasure from evoking bliss which is caused through suffering?

[_Ahma_]: That would seem to be the pertinent question.

[_Faheth_]: This is no parlour game, _Ahma_, practiced by the bored wife of some thane from Hethio for her idle amusement; nor a wanton thrill offered by a drunken streetwalker. No brand of masochism is so extreme: she will ask you to do great violence to her; to push her repeatedly to death and beyond. It may break your mind.

[_Ahma_]: You dubbed her insane and evil, yet still you asked me to find a way to her.

[_Faheth_]: She is insane by your standards, not mine; as to evil, who can even say what that means anymore? And I ask and have asked for nothing; but whatever you ask, I will grant it to the extent of my power. The Eye of Cheshne will be blinded by the Sun for a few days more; but understand that _the Sun is weak_: place your trust in the _Eleos_.

[_Ahma_]: And if my efforts prove inadequate, what then? Nothing is lost. She has her demons to look to.

[_Faheth_]: Demons are sadistic, _Ahma_. It is not the same thing at all. And Nothing _will_ be lost.


**

_Narh_ reached the Blackwater Meadow and crossed the Nund two hours before midnight. The road to Trempa was thronged with tents and makeshift hovels; those displaced from Deorham and Hernath. A sickness had descended on them: Urgic mendicants moved amongst them, administering aid where they could. They implored him; Eadric remained for the best part of an hour, emptying himself, before resuming his journey.

Ten miles from Kyrtill’s Burh, and reality darkened; not yet within the inner ambit of the scion, but beneath a wider compass which the _ludja_ itself had set around its sapling. The presence of Nehael vanished from his mind; he knew that she was now blind to what transpired, unless the Blackthorn itself were to grant her vision.

He cast around for some sign; his eyes were drawn to The Follower, a star considered auspicious and which – in marriage with the Sun – marked the fullness of spring. It shone, steady and calm, close to its zenith. He took it as a portent, even as a glamour settled over him: a mantle of darkness – bequeathed, he knew, by Soneillon – to protect him from the warp which emanated from the scion at the keep. 

His gaze penetrated the night, and he entered a twisted phantasmagoria, where angle and distance seemed meaningless; things crawled and festered and rotted: the Blackthorn was the quintessence of putrefaction. The town of Deorham had become a shadowy parody of itself, and although shapes and rumors intimated that many of its inhabitants remained there, all, the _Ahma_ knew, were _changed_. He shunned it, and spurred straight for the Burh. For home.

As he crossed the bridge, _Narh_’s hoof fall seemed muted and empty. The shadow of the Steeple fell on Eadric and the stallion shook, unwilling to go further: a vast shape roosted there, a guardian of terrible power recently bound by the mistress of the _Urn_ for her protection. _Carasch_, he knew, for what other could it be? The great chthonic was crouched in silent vigil; the _Ahma_ felt the demon’s scrutiny settle upon him as a lance of pure malice. He dismounted, whispering words of reassurance, and slowly led _Narh_ forward.

At the gate, Mazikreen stood waiting. Eadric said nothing, but fixed her with his gaze as he pressed the steed’s reins into her hand. She lowered her eyes. The courtyard beyond was dim and hazy; all sound was subdued. He passed beneath the arch and trod swiftly to the keep proper, averting his eyes from the place outside of the chapel where he knew the scion reared. Opening the heavy door, he made his way through the hall, up the companionway, and to his rooms.

All within was darkness: profane, silent and absolute. At the centre, a naked singularity churned in space; a deeper void into which _ens_ vanished, and around which madness accreted in tendrils. It contorted, seeming to fold outwards from within, assuming more apprehensible form.

“Welcome home, dear.” Soneillon manifested in the shape of the peasant-girl, and struck a light. A fire ignited in the hearth. His chambers seemed unchanged since his last visit, many months prior. She smiled. “I notice you did not bring your cherub’s eye: is there something which you did not wish to see?”

“I was not sure what you’d want to show.” 

“That is considerate of you. Are you here to play, then?”

“No, I am here to reach you.”

She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Well…the _Ahma_ is bold; perhaps he has been drinking _kasshiv_ again. That is no trivial undertaking, by any measure. She – the first one, that is – knows that you have come, of course?”

“Yes.”

“And she offered some kind of _blessing_, I presume; an article of empathy and compassion, couched in terms of my _need_?”

“Soneillon, does it matter?” Eadric asked. “That is a perspective which I must hold true in any event. You know this.”

“From you, I will endure it – at least, provisionally. But not from her: she understands me better than you. And consider your supplication to Cheshne and the Void, because make no mistake: that is what this is. If you have doubts or would prefer lighter fare tonight, now would be the time to articulate these feelings.”

He remained silent.

“Will you then do as I beseech of you?” She inquired. 

“Yes.”

“And will you _trust_ me?” She asked archly.

“I must.”

“You need not sound so enthused, Eadric. Do you speak out of feeling, or from some misplaced sense of obligation?”

“It is a _choice_, Soneillon.”

“Very well, then.” Her mood became at once both serious and playful. She approached, drew a thin stiletto fashioned of cold iron, and pressed it into his hand. 

*

At Deorham, the Sun reached its nadir on Midwinter’s night, even as, at Khu, the Eye of Cheshne did likewise and Soneillon waxed to power. Above, The Follower – the star of the _Eleos_ – shone serenely at the midheaven, and the Dragon coiled yet tighter around the Tree.

In Nizkur, Nehael awoke to her full potential; to Sovereignty. Her sight penetrated the World.


**


----------



## the Jester

Entirely awesome. Damn.


----------



## carborundum

He chose Soneillon over Shomei? Or did I misunderstand as usual? ;-)


----------



## Knightfall

Excellent. Excellent. EXCELLENT!!!!


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

carborundum said:


> He chose Soneillon over Shomei? Or did I misunderstand as usual? ;-)




Of all the girls there _Ahma_ had affair with only Soneillon.


----------



## Bloodcookie

Sadomasochism - the path to transcendental power. Who knew?


----------



## the Jester

Bloodcookie said:


> Sadomasochism - the path to transcendental power. Who knew?




Or as I like to call it, "Friday night".


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Some Random Thoughts

*On Kschiff*
_Kschiff_ (“kss-chiff”) was first encountered by Ortwin and Mostin on their visit to Siir Traag; I invented the name on the fly – or rather I _stole_ the name: the _Kschiff_ are a race of “little green men” who appear in a _Traveller_ adventure called “Green Horizon” from an old copy of _White Dwarf_. Even though it was out of keeping with what I’d determined at that point would form the basis of the Tongue of Shûth – i.e. Sanskrit – I decided to keep it. 

_Kschiff_ is a cocktail of psychoactive alkaloids dissolved in alcohol – something like laudanum, I suppose, but with the ritual and religious overtones of _soma_ and lotus extract. Whether as an intoxicant, aphrodisiac, gateway of mystical experience – or whatever else was useful to advance the plot at the time – _kschiff_ always had the connotation of being something _forbidden_ or _dangerous_. The concentration and balance of alkaloids varies, depending on quality of local supply and intended use; Shomei gets the good stuff, naturally.

As it appeared more and more – especially with regard to Shomei’s addiction/dependency – the name began to aggravate me more and more. Its etymology was eventually back-engineered: _kschiff_ became the “Northern” (i.e. Wyrish) pronunciation, a corruption of the “Southern” (i.e. Shûthite) _kas’shiv_, which means “auspicious sound” – a reference to the experience of some kind of Aum/Shabda/Nam/Logos which is induced by the drug when used in its proper ritual context. Soneillon – as one invoked in such rites – is more familiar with this pronunciation; as one of her appellations is _Kaalakamala_ – the Death Lotus – contact with her in the dream-state is probably deemed perilous.


*On Stars*
I’ve used familiar stars – although not our constellations – when describing objects in the night sky of Wyre. I also track lunar cycles; it gives me ideas. 

The Eye of Cheshne is Antares, the Heart of the Scorpion; its symbolism has been explored at length for the last ten years, so I won’t belabor the point. It is invisible in the night sky for around 6 weeks prior to the winter solstice and for a few days afterwards, due to its proximity to the Sun. 

The Follower – the star associated with the _Eleos_ – is Aldebaran in Taurus; in opposition to the Eye of Cheshne: as one reaches its zenith, so the other reaches its nadir.  Al Dabaran actually means “The Follower” in Arabic – probably because it follows the Pleiades; this might also be a reference to Nehael in her guise as _Eleos_ – Sovereign Compassion – following the seven “original” Sovereignties. Symbols – fictitious or otherwise – have a habit of organizing themselves without any real intervention required.

The Rod’s Tip – associated with an enkindled Shomei – is Regulus in Leo. It is approximately square to both the Eye of Cheshne and The Follower, and can be understood as a fulcrum of power. Ancient Akkadian belief envisaged Regulus as a part of a sceptre (Pa-pil-sak); notions of rulership have always been associated with it.

Together, these are three of the four “Royal Stars” of Persian antiquity.


----------



## Rackhir

Sepulchrave II said:


> *Midwinter Goddess – Final Part*
> 
> She cocked her head and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Well…the _Ahma_ is bold; perhaps he has been drinking _kasshiv_ again. That is no trivial undertaking, by any measure. She – the first one, that is – knows that you have come, of course?”
> 
> “Yes.”
> 
> “And she offered some kind of _blessing_, I presume; an article of empathy and compassion, couched in terms of my _need_?”
> 
> “Soneillon, does it matter?” Eadric asked. “That is a perspective which I must hold true in any event. You know this.”
> 
> “From you, I will endure it – at least, provisionally. But not from her: she understands me better than you. And consider your supplication to Cheshne and the Void, because make no mistake: that is what this is. If you have doubts or would prefer lighter fare tonight, now would be the time to articulate these feelings.”
> 
> He remained silent.
> 
> “Will you then do as I beseech of you?” She inquired.
> 
> “Yes.”
> 
> “And will you _trust_ me?” She asked archly.
> 
> “I must.”
> 
> “You need not sound so enthused, Eadric. Do you speak out of feeling, or from some misplaced sense of obligation?”
> 
> “It is a _choice_, Soneillon.”
> 
> “Very well, then.” Her mood became at once both serious and playful. She approached, drew a thin stiletto fashioned of cold iron, and pressed it into his hand.
> 
> *
> 
> At Deorham, the Sun reached its nadir on Midwinter’s night, even as, at Khu, the Eye of Cheshne did likewise and Soneillon waxed to power. Above, The Follower – the star of the _Eleos_ – shone serenely at the midheaven, and the Dragon coiled yet tighter around the Tree.
> 
> In Nizkur, Nehael awoke to her full potential; to Sovereignty. Her sight penetrated the World.
> 
> 
> **




There has got to be some sort of deeper connection between Soneillon and Nehael. Is there some link between them that is escaping me or I'm forgetting?


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Ahma ?


----------



## Bloodcookie

Rackhir said:


> There has got to be some sort of deeper connection between Soneillon and Nehael. Is there some link between them that is escaping me or I'm forgetting?




Well, they are both (former) succubi who have (by chance? by divine preordination?) come to embody paradigm-defining principles. Whether any quantum entanglement between them is a cause or an effect of these characteristics, I'm not sure...


----------



## Cheiromancer

Well, this exchange between Eadric's brother and Soneillon is more resonant now.


			
				Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> "I had anticipated a painful and degrading death."
> 
> "If you desire. When I have devised one suitable, I will come and find you."
> 
> "My anticipation is not wishful," Orm explained.
> 
> "Tastes differ," Soneillon shrugged.




This is a tentative thought, but it seems to me that the feminine aspects of the Goddess do not seem adequately balanced by the forces on the masculine side. I'm sure that Eadric is quite the stud as far as mortals go, but virility is not exactly a part of his portfolio _qua_ godling. That's more Hummaz. Indeed, it makes sense that something like Hummaz would arise; the Sun is weakening and there arises an imbalance between masculine and feminine energies in the cosmos. But is Instinct enough to deal with Soneillon, Nehael and Shomei? I don't think so. 

Is Graz'zt still in his bottle? He'd supply an essential missing ingredient. Perhaps he is a lower aspect of some higher-order Power. A deity, perhaps, whose portfolio is Love, Pain and Secrets. Unfallen, he could be a St. Sebastian figure, or a Romeo. He embodies the ability of love to suffer for the beloved as well as the cruelty that can be directed at those we love. The ability to understand the beloved, but maybe also the snooping, mind-games and stalker-ish behavior that a lover can fall into. 

Maybe it is appropriate that Graz'zt is in his bottle. This is an aspect of Eadric's personality that, I think, is bottled up. Eadric condemns it and represses it. All this mayhem may result from it.

After all, the story does not really begin with Eadric trying to convert a succubus. Well it does, since we began _in media res_, but the enmity with Graz'zt is why Nehael appeared in the first place. And if Nehael was never merely a succubus, maybe Graz'zt is not merely a demon prince.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Perspective (Midwinter Goddess: Epilogue)*



[Nehael/_Eleos_]: Shomei…

[Shomei]: Piss off.


**


Mostin stood upon the veranda with Mulissu, watching as the shape approached at incredible speed from the south through the swagging winter skies.

Qematiel landed in an inferno, obliterating trees within a swathe a hundred yards across, and setting many more ablaze. A great gout of steam erupted as snow melted and boiled, blown outward by a shockwave of ionizing gas. Shomei leaped down, and strode towards them; the frozen earth shuddered and ignited at her passage. A gale of hellfire preceded her.

“She is upset,” the Alienist observed.

“I should probably go,” Mulissu said.

“That might be best,” Mostin agreed.

The savant discreetly absented herself.

Shomei paused at the bottom of the steps, closing her eyes tightly and clenching her fists. She slowly mastered her rage. The flames subsided.

“Would you like tea?” Mostin asked.

She glared at him. His hat began to smoulder.

“Enough!” Mostin thundered, casting off his headgear and stamping on it. “I will tolerate the damage to my shrubbery, but this is my favorite felt. Control yourself. And don’t think you can intimidate me with your dragon; have you ever seen an _Ú_?” The vowel was pronounced with undue length, and accompanied a tilted head and a mad stare.

The fire left her. She suddenly seemed exhausted.

“Gooood…” Mostin said. “Now. Perhaps you should slow down; I think you might be pushing yourself too hard.”

“I want the _Urn_, Mostin,” she sighed.

“Well, yes dear. We all want the _Urn_, don’t we?”


**


“Marriage?” Mostin scoffed. “Don’t be absurd. Wizards don’t get _married_; matrimony is for inferior beings. You are letting your infernality dictate your actions above your proper calling. And your social graces are also suffering.”

“He is the _Ahma_. It would be a sound alliance.” Shomei lounged. She was intoxicated. “But Soneillon has him all confused and irrational again. I even offered to practice compassion.”

“You are too _religious_, Shomei,” the Alienist grumbled. “That’s your problem. It’s always _been_ your problem. All of this nonsense about God and now compassion. Interfering with their doctrine because you think that their mystical claptrap needs reformulating. And planting trees? Your automagnification is all very well, but you’ll end madder than Hlioth at this rate.”

“Nehael is manipulating him,” Shomei sighed.  “He seems oblivious; he’s elevated her to the status of Oronthon’s empathic function because of some off-the-cuff remark which the _Sela_ made to Nwm. And he has such _potential_, Mostin. Meanwhile, he empowers her instead; she just sits back and waits for him to bring her the _Urn_. Her lack of agency – or rather her persistent need to act through him – is beginning to annoy me. She is so _disingenuous_.”

“She would be the first to admit to her own inertia,” Mostin nodded. “Have you considered approaching Soneillon non-violently?”

“She is unlikely to surrender the _Urn_ willingly, Mostin. The _Ahma_ is of the opinion that an assault is unwarranted; Soneillon’s demons have yet to wreak havoc. And now he is at Deorham, indulging her whims and demonstrating _compassion_; which Nehael sucks out of him like some green vampire. I can’t stage an assault while he’s there.”

“Why ever not?” Mostin inquired. “Not that I’d like to see any harm come to Eadric.” He hastily added.

“He is the _Ahma_, Mostin.”

“I do not understand,” the Alienist sighed.

“It is a _religious_ thing, Mostin. You wouldn’t.”

“Well, no. I suppose not. Would you like to stay for supper? I plan to infuse Mei with pseudostuff tomorrow, and would like your opinion on the formula.”

“Sorry, Mostin,” she stood uncertainly. “I should probably go; I have more devils to conjure. And I’m sorry about the hat,” she dusted it off, and placed it on her head. “Do you think it suits me?”

“Yes,” Mostin replied. “But you can’t have it.”

“A shame. Thank-you, Mostin. You’re a good influence on me.”

“Yes. I am.”

She walked unsteadily towards the door.

“And Shomei?”

She turned to face him.

“If you set yourself against the Claviger, I will be forced to protect the Articles. Just so we’re clear.”


*


----------



## Zelda Themelin

awesome.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Bad Eadric. Made girl jealous. And Mostin is a swell guy.


----------



## carborundum

Just so we're clear.

Brilliant!

Right, I'm off to find xp-worthy posts so I can give Sepulchrave some more


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Some more thoughts, in which I quote myself.


*Succubi, Orgasm, Death and Soneillon’s Paraphilia*

Chthonics do not _die_ in any normal sense when slain; rather they _become Nothing_ – i.e. Void. In this regard they are different from other entities, who may ascend (or descend) to some other state, be subsumed, reborn, reincarnated or whose existence may simply end. From Nothing, they may become again; it is posited that vestiges – in thought, memory, dreams or some other medium – are sufficient for a kernel of potentiality to form, around which the chthonic may remainifest at some later time. In the interim, they _are not_ – in the sense that they possess no distinct individuality – Nothing itself is assumed to be fundamentally undifferentiated. They “rest in the bosom of the Ancient.”

The experience of _becoming Nothing_ – which is to say the moment at which the entity passes from a sense of individual selfhood to the annihilation of the self and the assertion of Nothing as true  – is analagous to orgasm in many ways; for Soneillon – “The Mango in Cheshne’s Mouth” it is apparent that they are identical. She craves annihilation, specifically the experience of _being annihilated_, and the madness which she suffers – the delirium which the pseudonatural template in some way _represents_ – can be understood as her inability to realize this need.



> With a passing thought, Kaalaanala – the Primordial Fear of Destruction – annihilated Soneillon in an agony of unguessable magnitude; moments later, the demoness arose again from the Void. The passage had left her sated and subdued. Soneillon swayed drowsily; she was permitted to enjoy the sensation only briefly.




Kaalaanala – being sadistic – allows Soneillon to experience her “reward” for only a short time. Soneillon’s goading of Eadric to kill her in the _Mésalliance_ can also be understood in this context



> "Remain ignorant then, Eadric. Finish me. I'll make it easy for you," her smile was that of a creature which exulted in evil and destruction.
> 
> He wavered.
> 
> "You are a coward," she screamed, spitting black blood.



Her frustration is directed at him because he _will not kill her_. A kind of _excessum interruptum_, from her point of view.

It is possible that succubi are anorgasmic. From an Oronthonist perspective, this would be fitting punishment – presumably for celestials whose initial fall was linked with a display of or preoccupation with carnality. It is also possible that chthonics – who have shaken off this paradigm – are no longer subject to this limitation, or have reframed it within the context of experiencing annihilation. It seems that Soneillon _was_ permitted to experience climax in the context of Eadric’s pursuit of the Path of Lightning; something which might, in fact, be interpreted as _grace_ on the part of Oronthon



> Her heat never abated. There was no indication of artifice in her desire, only the need for continual and infinitely varied sensation: taboo did not exist, or existed only to be broken, and when they coupled violently on the shattered altar of the chapel, Eadric did not know whether they had profaned it, or sanctified it.




And then, with regard to Orm:



> "Your presence here may be less enduring than you imagine," Orm suggested.
> 
> "Ignorance!" Soneillon snapped. "I have apprehended that chapel in a Moment. Can you claim the same? Do not speak to me of tenacity, nor the length of my own shadow. Now begone!"




Something which is later reframed in her words to Eadric:



> I have not interfered with the chapel; it is no less holy to me than to you: something which was difficult to impress upon your brother.




I’ve tried to shy away from a run-of-the-mill masochistic explananation for Soneillon’s need for her own extinction:



> [Faheth]: This is no parlour game, Ahma, practiced by the bored wife of some thane from Hethio for her idle amusement; nor a wanton thrill offered by a drunken streetwalker. No brand of masochism is so extreme: she will ask you to do great violence to her; to push her repeatedly to death and beyond. It may break your mind.




But I’m not sure how well I’ve communicated it. Soneillon is not an algolagniac, _per se_; rather she would view the most intense and unimaginable pain as a kind of foreplay or prelude to death-orgasm. There is no equivalent paraphilia amongst mere mortals, because they can experience death only once. The same is not true of chthonics, for whom annihilation can be experienced on multiple occasions.

And if your boyfriend is capable of performing _true resurrection_…

_Trust_ assumes a new meaning.


----------



## grodog

Sepulchrave II said:


> And if your boyfriend is capable of performing _true resurrection_…
> _Trust_ assumes a new meaning.




Interesting that Ed's been worrying about trust a lot lately, then



			
				Sepulchrave II in Midwinter Goddess - Part 2 (and 3) said:
			
		

> “You cannot trust her,” Shomei said directly.
> 
> “Perhaps not. Questions of trust seem to preoccupy me of late.


----------



## Bloodcookie

I see now. I had supposed she was literally applying a Nietzschean program of growth through affliction, but I'd somehow overlooked the possibility that something could kill her AND make her stronger (you'd think I would have noticed by now that death is rarely a permanent obstacle around these parts  ).


----------



## Cheiromancer

Sep, is this Soneillon's specific way of being chthonic, or is it common also to entities such as Carasch? The eroticism of death seems more likely to characterize a succubus than a balor.


----------



## pogre

Thanks again - this thread never fails to inspire!


----------



## Tal Rasha

Rackhir said:


> There has got to be some sort of deeper connection between Soneillon and Nehael. Is there some link between them that is escaping me or I'm forgetting?



What, you mean besides both of them being fulcrums around which realities are reshaped? Nehael being the beginning of paradigmatic shattering, and Soneillon possibly the end? Nehael and Soneillon both representing different kinds of unattainability?

Not to worry. I'm sure our minds will be blown anew soon.

In other news. Carasch acting as Soneillon's guard. Wow. Tense negotiations, indeed. Holes in the fence, indeed.



			
				Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> And now he is at Deorham, indulging her whims and demonstrating compassion; which Nehael sucks out of him like some green vampire. I can’t stage an assault while he’s there.



I liked this tidbit.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Cheiromancer said:


> Sep, is this Soneillon's specific way of being chthonic, or is it common also to entities such as Carasch? The eroticism of death seems more likely to characterize a succubus than a balor.




Soneillon's, I think. I haven't really considered the sexuality of chthonic balors. 

Succubi are uniquely compelling, despite their overexposure. Soneillon is, in many ways, really an expression of Cheshne Herself - or as close as mortal understanding can come to Cheshne. Hence, her rejection of Cheshne's Shadow (the Apparition), in favor of a more authentic relationship with Cheshne. Soneillon's symbolism is drawn primarily from the (admittedly, darkened) idea of a Dakini in Tibetan tantrism, as well as Kali in Hinduism - her "Trempan Peasant-Girl" persona is inspired by Parvati.

The assertion "I just want to play" is also influenced by Hindu notions of lila; the universe as the playground of Kali/Shakti and/or Brahman.

All of which - from my quirky perspecive, at least - fall under the umbrella of Scorpionic and Plutonic symbolism. Operatically, _Liebestod_. Or _Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen_.

Whatever.


----------



## tleilaxu

speaking of carnality and its implements....

ever since soneillon pulled the urn out its, uh, hiding place ('you serve only to neuter me') i've always thought of pharamme's urn as a diaphragm. 

which is ironic since the urn -enhances- power. it brings forth stuff. but in the context of nothingness, is this not profylactic?


----------



## Sepulchrave II

tleilaxu said:


> speaking of carnality and its implements....
> 
> ever since soneillon pulled the urn out its, uh, hiding place ('you serve only to neuter me') i've always thought of pharamme's urn as a diaphragm.
> 
> which is ironic since the urn -enhances- power. it brings forth stuff. but in the context of nothingness, is this not profylactic?




Look, a tree! You're lucky I'm drunk and you're 12,000 miles away.


----------



## babomb

Rikandur Azebol said:


> Bad Eadric. Made girl jealous. And Mostin is a swell guy.




In this case, I guess Hell _does_ have fury like a woman scorned.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Obsession – Part 1*


Mostin stood with Hlioth in what remained of his rose garden the day after Shomei’s passage. He had surprised himself by the fact that he had contacted her – a significator in the _Web of Motes_ had prompted him. He had been astonished when she had actually accepted his invitation.

“Despite her protestations to the contrary,” the Green Witch said to Mostin, “she is, of course, _jealous_. Not necessarily in some conventional, lovestruck way – I am not sure that Shomei is capable of experiencing romantic feelings _per se_ – but rather simply because she _cannot get what she wants_. Actually, on consideration, they might be the same thing anyway. Regardless, she is exhausted, unhinged, volatile…and very, very _dangerous_. She is utterly fixated on the _Urn_, because it is the most direct route to power. I might also add that the heiress of Hell is twenty-seven years old; she lacks a certain perspective which millennia bring.”

“How old…” Mostin began.

“None of your business,” Hlioth interrupted. 

Mostin bit his tongue. The crone seemed relatively agreeable today, and her demeanour was notoriously fickle.

“In any event, she is also _vulnerable_ – just shut up, Mostin and let me finish – specifically with regard to the Holly, which has yet to show its face beyond the Thickets and the Realm of Hummaz and which she must, somehow negotiate.”

“No more trees,” the Alienist moaned. “Please.”

“Yes, Mostin,” Hlioth smiled disagreeably. “More trees! There are a lot _more trees_ and you’d better start getting used to the idea. Now, you may be one of the most abominable creatures within the confines of the creation, but – or perhaps, because of this fact – you also have a certain _relationship_ with Shomei which may allow you to curb her excesses.”

“By and large, I rather appreciate Shomei’s excesses,” Mostin sighed. “But in this case, you may be correct.”

“And what, may I ask,” Hlioth inquired, “prompted you to seek my _advice_ in this matter. I assume that is what you are _doing_ – am I correct? It is not as though you and I have had a glowing friendship these past twenty years.”

“An intuition prompted by the Enforcer’s intervention in my spell formulations,” Mostin admitted. “But one subsequently corroborated by the _Web of Motes_: that Shomei intends to challenge the Articles. I projected a catenary which took her straight into conflict with Gihaahia – although she needs both possession of the _Urn_ and mastery of Hummaz in order to secure certain victory in this confrontation; she may attempt it without the latter. I am of the opinion that the Injunction is worth protecting; the fact that you and I are having this conversation is testament to that fact.”

“Are you suggesting that the Claviger is implementing some kind of defensive contingency through the Academy?”

“It may have been its plan from the outset,” Mostin nodded. “We cannot gauge its prescience. Gihaahia is not invulnerable; the Claviger itself currently dreams – it is containing the Second Effluxion.”

“Well,” Hlioth breathed a sigh of relief. “Perhaps things are not as bad as I anticipated.”

“Perhaps not,” Mostin nodded. “Mei – I should say Pseudomei – is a test case; you should see her: she is so _beautiful_. But consider multiple Mostin pseudosimulacra. And how beautiful _they_ will be.”

A look of profound horror crossed Hlioth’s face.

“The formula is based on Gihaahia’s own premise,” Mostin continued enthusiastically. “I am glad that the Enforcer – in fact, the Claviger – is finally looking to _Uzzhin_ as the source of ultimate unmeaning. Anyway, Mulissu’s inside: let’s have some tea; you’re not such a bad old stick, after all. And as you’re here, Hlioth, do you think you could repair my shrubbery? I’m not very good at that sort of thing.”


**


“Eadric’s problem,” Ortwine opined, “is that he cannot relate to _women._ As a woman who was a man, I have a unique perspective in this regard.”

Nwm nodded. Ortwine had consumed an excess of infernal wine over the course of several days. The Faerie Queene had lost all of her inhibitions, and seemed the very model of one – or several – of her former selves.

“Allow me to continue,” Ortwine smiled. “Consider Despina – yes, that’s a name you haven’t heard for a while. He placed her on a pedestal; notions of courtly love – _fine amour_ – and  all that chivalric bullsh*t. Unreachable; unattainable. Unrequited love. ”

Nwm nodded. He had consumed no small quantity himself, relaxing his normal guard against inebriation. It was, after all, the winter _Tagamuos_. 

“When she disappoints him,” Ortwine continued, “he _demonizes_ her – let’s dub this phase _Nehael I_. Nehael I is the realization that she is _bad_, but may be trying to be _good_. Are we in accord?”

Nwm nodded.

“You intercede,” Ortwine smiled. “Good job – at least, I think.  Nehael is removed from the humdrum divide between Heaven and Hell, and becomes Nehael II. Did they get it on, I wonder?”

“You can ask him when he gets back,” Nwm interrupted. “If he ever gets back.”

“’I don’t think so,’ is the answer.” Ortwine sighed. “Nehael II is _abducted_ – unattainable again, you see?”

Nwm nodded.

“He broods, and encounters Soneillon – let’s call her _Soneillon I._ Sound good?”

“Aren’t there prior iterations?’

“Just think like Eadric,” Ortwine replied. “Soneillon I is one hundred per cent _wicked_ and _naughty_ – he likes that. But he can’t _be_ that. Is that a fair assertion?”

“I must concur,” Nwm nodded.

“Simultaneously, he develops an ‘intellectual’ cameraderie with Shomei – _Shomei II_, I suppose, after you _reincarnated_ her. Now, let’s be honest, Nwm. When has Eadric developed an intellectual anything?”

“He’s not stupid,” Nwm objected. 

“No. But he’s pretty green – especially when it comes to women. Anyway, Soneillon I dies – or whatever she does. Shomei II is lost. What does he do?”

“He wages war?”

“_Precisely_,” Ortwine smiled. “Except he’s encountered Nehael again, and now he _deifies_ her. Nehael III. Note that he still can’t _have_ her.”

“And Shomei?”

“When _she_ reappears, she will be inserted into the conveniently vacant role of _Adversary_,”  Ortwine touched her nose. “Shomei III. But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Mostin invokes Soneillon – Soneillon II – from wherever she wasn’t – in order to fuel his magic, and then sends her hurtling into delirium. She quickly becomes Soneillon III and then Soneillon IV in short order – the crazed, _Urn_-bearing Soneillon whom Eadric is now _brutalizing_ in some awful rite. By now, Nehael has also become Nehael IV – I assume you _felt_ what happened the other night? At this point, she is _utterly beyond reach_.”

“Where is this leading, Ortwine?”

“You seem to forget, I am a _goddess_, Nwm – Ortwine IV_a_ – and I have a perspective you cannot. The energy isn’t flowing in the direction that Eadric, or Nehael, or Shomei – or Soneillon, for that matter – expected. In fact, maybe she is now Soneillon _V_. Because _Cheshne is waking. She no longer dreams._”

Nwm stared at her. 

“Don’t worry; it’s not as bad as you think. But my original assertion about Eadric and women stands. All of which brings me to the real question,” Ortwine raised an eyebrow. “What do we know about Eadric’s _mother_?”

“Not much,” Nwm perked up. “But now I think we might be getting somewhere.”


**


Qematiel wheeled in the air, a mile above the Academy and its grounds. The Hazel scion – tucked in a remote corner of the thousand-acre estate and obscured by a distortion – had cordoned an area in its vicinity. It was a lattice of interwoven demiplanes which formed a perilous snare around Shomei’s cottage, itself a portal to the labyrinthine repository of diabolic knowledge which she had inherited – or appropriated. Many powerful devils – and more recently-fallen celestials – abode in the skies nearby, preferring to remain _invisible_, awaiting the bidding of their mistress.

Below, the diminutive figure of Shomei the Infernal walked deliberately across a wide lawn, and stood before the doors to her former abode – now the seat of Wyrish High Arcanie, with the Articles of the Injunction displayed prominently above its entrance. She inspected them briefly before making the merest gesture; the valves swung open silently, and she entered within.

To her approval, the infernal aesthetic was largely unchanged; midnight blues, indigoes and maroons predominated. Columns of black marble, shot through with streaks of carnelian supported lofty ceilings. A soft light overspread the interior; all elements blended into a harmonious whole. A spined devil flapped past quietly on some mundane task, its eyes wide at seeing its former mistress returned. The atmosphere was calm, subdued and studious. She paused briefly and inhaled. There was _value_ here, she knew; but more concrete and purposeful _direction_ was required.

A young mage exited a study hurriedly, almost colliding with her. He froze; his first instinct was to worship her. With a thought, she quenched the outward signs of her Fire: mortals were apt to overreact when in her presence, and she sought no veneration. Shaken, the wizard moved away slowly, his eyes still fixed on her.

She made her way to the library: the vast collection which she had acquired in a previous lifetime, now swollen yet further by contributions made by other mages. It seemed paltry. Lesser wizards cast sidelong glances at one another, or whispered to colleagues in nearby booths: she was known to all by reputation; to a few – whose heads remained conspicuously lowered – in person.

Shomei selected a blank section of wall in a nook beneath a mezzanine, and set forth her power, causing an archway to appear. Those nearby craned their necks to see what might lie beyond: shelves which seemed to go on forever, crammed with scrolls and codices. Her thought summoned Ugales – a devil of mild temper – and placed him behind a desk beside the newly-forged portal.

She spoke directly into the mind of every arcanist within a league:

*My other library is now also available. There will be a fee.*

She passed through the portal. Abruptly, a door of adamant appeared and slammed in place.

The devil smiled benignly, and began to sharpen his quill-pen with a pocket knife.



**
**



All was Void. Perfect. Empty. Absolute. It was timeless; an aeon of aeons. A moment. 

Breath moved, and a light kindled. It grew to fullness, and blazed, sovereign. A rumour became; formed around it. Refulgence drew her forth.

_Ens_ crystallized as a violent spasm.

Blood – ichor – her own, she knew – soaked everything. He sat in the meditative posture to which she had become accustomed; his blade rested across his knees. It and he were drenched with her. 

The gore vanished with her passing thought.

“_Anvashochah. Maa. Tvayiv viikshya Varca_,” she murmured, because she felt it.* And then she questioned herself; whether her words were real, or were spoken merely to comfort him.

He moved to leave; she reached out and gripped his wrist. _Please. Stay._

He nodded. 

She smiled languidly, and drew him toward her. 

And wondered if he hated her.







*You are lamenting. Do not. In you I have apprehended the Sun.
.


----------



## Bloodcookie

I'm now expecting Ortwine and Nwm to attempt confronting Eadric with German-accented psychoanalysis. 

And is Shomei seeking to indebt/subvert the academy to her faction in the impending conflict?


----------



## Soramain

I'm wondering just how bad the fee is to use the library.


----------



## carborundum

It's all kicking off again 

Thanks for the updates and answers, Sepulchrave. Have a great Christmas... or apppropriate Cthonic holiday-of-choice


----------



## Cheiromancer

Sepulchrave II said:


> Soneillon's, I think. I haven't really considered the sexuality of chthonic balors.




I doubt that balors are motivated by carnality. Pride maybe. Frustrated and turned to wrath. Like that of Achilles, perhaps. Maybe that pent up anger is what explodes out of them when they die? Dunno- but I think there are probably distinct ways that chthonic fiends relate to the void. 

I'm still suspicious of Pluto being a "real" astrological planet, but I concur with the correspondence between Scorpio and Death. The Sephira of Binah is, in my own system, the source of Scorpio/Death. I wonder if Binah can be identified with Chesne? The vertical path of Mars/Destruction is also linked to Binah, as is the horizontal path of Fire/Justice. All of which correspond nicely to the story-line.

Speaking of which-a new update is waiting to be read... 

edit: Fantastic! I laughed at Ortwine's line about Eadric's mother. And at Mostin's request to have his shrubbery repaired. And at the new Library annex - the wizards are so Vancian! - and it occurs to me that Soneillon's cycling through non-being is like an alarm-clock going off for Chesne. Sooner or later she is going to stop hitting the snooze button! 

Altogether a highly enjoyable update.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Random Thought About Scale 

There is an annoying error in a previous post, which describes _Narh_ as having been ridden 600 miles in a day when it should read _leagues_ – i.e. _1800_ miles: this is approximately the distance of a round trip between Galda and Qinthei on the ground. _Narh_ is fast; he also wears _horseshoes of a zephyr_ crafted by Jaliere.  Anyway, it got me thinking about scale, and how there are no computer-available maps of Wyre. One day, I’ll buy a scanner.

It’s always tempting to overlay Western Europe onto any fantasy map; it’s a habit picked up from Robert E. Howard and Tolkien, in an effort to legitimize geographical locations within an historical context. But as an exercise in visualization:

_Deorham_ is the starting point in this fruitless endeavor, because _Dyrham_ really exists – it’s a village north of Bath in England at 51° 29' north, 2° 22' west. Trempa Town is approximately in the location of Sarum/Salisbury.

Morne would be in north Devon. Hethio, approximately extending through the Bristol Channel as far as the Irish Sea. Nizkur forest, stretching West from Ireland out into the Atlantic. Ialde, in the very North of Wyre, is half way between Shetland and Iceland. The Thrumohars would describe an arc between Iceland and Scandinavia; the plateau of Tun Hartha is north of here.

The “Southern Marches” of Wyre would extend down into the Bay of Biscay, with Thond and Jompa – the northernmost of the Thalassine cities –somewhere in the Basque country.

Jashat is approximately at the location of Madrid, with Fumaril closer to the border with Portugal. The island chain of Pandicule stretches south and west, through to around where Madeira is in the real world.

Siir Traag is at the location of El Hierro in the Canary Islands; Khu is somewhat south of Siir Traag, off of the coast of the Western Sahara – its latitude is around 26°N. Bedesh would be in the location of the Cape Verde islands.


/end pointless exercise.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Scanners are cheap. And if you had a tip jar, I'm sure people would chip in. Dunno how to get one, though.



			
				Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> There is an annoying error in a previous post, which describes Narh as having been ridden 600 miles in a day when it should read leagues – i.e. 1800 miles




I've edited the copy in the archive thread. But please don't say the exercise is pointless. It is art- it is an intrinsic good.

****

I suppose it was implicit from even the earliest posts what is going on in the story, but I found the following quote especially revelatory:



> "Eadric," Nwm sighed, "Unlike the Ahma, I am wise: I see little purpose in burdening objective reality with my internal processes."




But look how Eadric's mercy (and compassion!) towards Nehael resulted in the following scene (from 1-21-2002)



> Arriving in the capitol an hour later, outside of the orangery of the Archbishop's palace, the Paladin and his friend were greeted by a minor functionary who eyed the Druid suspiciously. Unfortunately, the Archbishop was indisposed, having just gone on a meditation retreat.
> 
> "How long will it be?" the Paladin asked.
> 
> "We are not sure," the official answered. "He is communing with Oronthon. Apparently with some urgency. I am not sure why. He seemed concerned, as if some great event challenged the very structure of the church."
> 
> The Paladin groaned.




So Orwine's and Nwm's speculations about Eadric's psychology is all very much to the point. These conflicts are acted out in the world. Not that they are Eadric's doing, exactly; he seems to be a visible sign of an invisible reality:



> The liaison between the Ahma and Soneillon – it was suspected – was merely a physical symptom of the articulation of Nothingness within the Ideal realm.



 (07-11-2004)

The nature of this conflict is alluded to by Mostin:



> Mostin groaned, and turned to face the celestial, his expression one of nausea. "You are trite. You appeal to hierarchy to avoid responsibility: you are fundamentally disingenuous."
> 
> "I wish you were capable of understanding otherwise, Mostin…"
> 
> The Alienist became red and twitched. "Would it avoid the World being wracked because Oronthogorgon is having another existential crisis?"



 (06-12-09)

So, the crisis is ongoing, but the conflict with the Chesnites seems to be dying down a bit. Another set of issues is arising with Shome and Mostin, involving the Injunction. I'll have to think about what all is going on here. It does seem like Will incarnate would be opposed to, and desirous of subverting/overthrowing, any kind of ultimate Law. Mostin, interested in his own apotheosis, seems to regard the Injunction as valuable. It will be interesting to see them fight for the soul of the Wyrish Academy. Self-transcendence... the struggle between being and not-being... yeah, it all fits together.


----------



## Baron Opal

Sepulchrave II said:


> Anyway, it got me thinking about scale, and how there are no computer-available maps of Wyre. One day, I’ll buy a scanner.




*Ahem*

Glances at locations...

I could be persuaded to, ah, loan a scanner I'm not using.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Cheiro said:
			
		

> Scanners are cheap. And if you had a tip jar, I'm sure people would chip in. Dunno how to get one, though.






Baron Opal said:


> I could be persuaded to, ah, loan a scanner I'm not using.




Gentlemen, you are kind, but my obstacle is motivational rather than financial.

I'm also shy about my cartography - which is hand-drawn and rather personal. 

But it's something I'll consider making available at some point.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

As we're being personal - or I am, at least - the inspiration for the chapel at Deorham is here; in winter here. It is St. Mary Magdelene's church (appropriately enough) :/. The tower is 12th c. Norman, but the body of the church is older, with Saxon elements. It is my favorite church _*ever*_.

The dark tree on the far right, is, in fact, a yew - there are two in front of the lichway, and they are ancient: two yews to the east and south of a holy site in the UK generally reveals a pre-Christian origin; if a yew is planted in each corner of a church-yard, it is indicative of the established Christianization of the area. As a religious site, Langridge is very old. The trees are probably 1500+ years.


----------



## Baron Opal

Sepulchrave II said:


> Gentlemen, you are kind, but my obstacle is motivational rather than financial...
> 
> But it's something I'll consider making available at some point.




I quite understand. Let me know if it should become convienent some time in the future.


----------



## Salthorae

I never expected to have so many updates, so I haven't checked since the early December update, man did I miss out!

There are so many different things going on simultaneously or at least with seeming simultaneity in this story that it is hard to keep track of everything, but I love it and love that you have stuck with it Sep!


----------



## grodog

Cheiromancer said:


> it occurs to me that Soneillon's cycling through non-being is like an alarm-clock going off for Chesne. Sooner or later she is going to stop hitting the snooze button!




True, true!

And:  You must spread some Experience Points around before giving it to Cheiromancer again.

Someone help me out?


----------



## grodog

Sepulchrave II said:


> Gentlemen, you are kind, but my obstacle is motivational rather than financial.
> 
> I'm also shy about my cartography - which is hand-drawn and rather personal.
> 
> But it's something I'll consider making available at some point.




Jim:  I've got a scanner that can handle almost 11x17 sheets, if you need someone to do the physical scanning work.  I've scanned a number of my own hand-drawn dungeon levels over the years, as well as a bunch from Rob Kuntz; with such original "artifacts" gamers in general don't seem to expect or even necessarily _want_ computerized reproductions---they want to peruse the raw, unvarnished originals (which is why, for example, the publication of the original Castle Greyhawk levels are still the holy grail for most D&D historians/collectors).  

Anyway, if you want to talk about it sometime, shoot me an email.  And, Happy New Year


----------



## Guilberwood

Sepulchrave II said:


> *Obsession – Part 1*
> 
> “Don’t worry; it’s not as bad as you think. But my original assertion about Eadric and women stands. All of which brings me to the real question,” Ortwine raised an eyebrow. “What do we know about Eadric’s _mother_?”
> 
> “Not much,” Nwm perked up. “But now I think we might be getting somewhere.”




Man, I laughed out loud reaing this. Thanks again for all these updates and this great story SEP.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Obsession – Part 2 (Inversion)*


“A _ludja_,” Hlioth explained, “acts – or does not – according to its nature. Around each of its saplings it creates a circuit in which its own concerns are afforded precedence, but it is not _willful_ – with the exception of the Hazel, of course: willfulness is its nature. There is nothing stopping Shomei from entering the ambit of the Blackthorn at Deorham: it will not assault her. Or, at least, it will not single her out for assault; its concerns are with all of the processes of decay. The warp which emanates from it – the _corruption_, if you prefer, although I am reluctant to characterize any natural process in those terms – is an unfortunate side effect. Things rot quickly there: matter, mind and space. Shomei possesses magic enough to prevent its general effects.”

“And if Shomei – or I, for that matter – were to take an axe to the scion?” Ortwine inquired.

“You would perish,” Hlioth said simply. “The manner of your passing would likely be ugly. A scion will preserve itself through reflex, and in the unlikely event that a scion is _actually threatened_, the _ludja_ itself will react to protect its sapling. In the case of the _Blackthorn_, it might simply _squash_ you. Or you might instantly decompose. Or it might deploy many chthonics, who roost in its branches – when they are not scuttling hither and thither in Dream. The Blackthorn can _transfigure_ them – as it has Soneillon. They are most potent, and would flay you.”

“And Carasch is one such?”

“Carasch is Carasch,” Hlioth replied opaquely. “Cheshne looks out for him.”

Ortwine pondered. “And if, somehow, one _were_ to destroy a scion – before it could react, so to speak. What then?”

“Another would grow in its place,” Hlioth chuckled.

“And if one were to assault the _ludja_ directly? To destroy it at the root?”

“Another. Would grow. In its place. The Great _Ludja_ is the root of all. And it is Reality.”

Ortwine sighed. “Is there no manner in which these things can be curtailed? Restricted? Contained? Manipulated?”

“Certainly,” Hlioth replied unexpectedly. “To assert the higher paradigm. That capacity which Nehael possesses, but will only demonstrate in compassion; which Hummaz enjoys, but has no interest in using – except to gratify his immediate urges. Which Kaalaanala cannot realize; toward which Shomei strives; which has not been revealed by the _Ahma_.”

“And Soneillon?”

“My eyes cannot penetrate the Void,” Hlioth smiled.

“And the Oak and the Elm – here at Galda?” Ortwine was dubious.

“They are a potent combination; they embody physical characteristics – physicality itself – or two thirds of it. The hardness and temper of the Ash is absent. But strength, resilience, pliability, resistance to decay – yes. Kaalaanala’s sight cannot penetrate the compass set by the _ludjas_ around the scions, and they are _vibrant_; things which are _dead_ will have a difficult time here, as will things which are predicated on non-_Ens_ – which is obviously to our advantage.”

“I was denied their protection when I made an appeal. Despite Nehael’s intercession. I am less than confident in their benevolence.”

The Green Witch shook her head. “You are ascribing a quality – or a lack of it – which is inappropriate to these _ludjas_.”

“Then what was the obstacle to their action?”

“You are the Hazel’s bitch, Ortwine,” Hlioth sighed. “I am not privy to the internal politics of the Trees. Either way, Shomei will not forget that fact.”

“And this impenetrability to sight around the scions? It is selective. What motivates it? Deorham is invisible to me. Morne is not. Nor is here at Galda. But Jashat is. There are also other areas which are…opaque.”

“To you, maybe,” Hlioth shrugged. “But not, any longer, to the _Eleos_. There is no veil through which she cannot now see, except those of Cheshne herself. And you ascribe motivation to all Trees, which implies will – your perspective is too corylian. Although that is to be expected.”

“Yet the Hazel itself does not shroud the Academy?”

“It has not been so implored – or directed. Yet.” Hlioth said with narrowed eyes. “It might be construed as an overt act of aggression on the part of Shomei. The Enforcer would be less than pleased.”

“And Nehael’s perception extends to Jashat? The Temple of Cheshne?”

“The Fires of Death and all of her avatars are transparent to the _Eleos_, Ortwine. To Compassion. Something which Kaalaanala is likely to resent.”

“Does this make sense to you?” The sidhe asked Nwm.

“Of course,” the Preceptor replied. “What is unclear?”

“Never mind,” Ortwine sighed. “What are we now waiting to do?”

“Eadric has been gone for three days, and is unresponsive to any efforts at communication. We will make a reconnaissance,” Nwm said in a matter-of fact way. “Of Deorham and its environs. I, for one, am curious to see what transpires beneath a Blackthorn’s pall.”

“Is everybody _mad_?” Ortwine groaned. “Why can’t we just ask Nehael?”

“Her concerns have become more global,” Nwm replied.

“In which case,” Ortwine said drily. “She is even less use than previously.”

“You may be surprised on that count,” Nwm smiled.


**


[Daunton]: You should probably come to the Academy.

[Mostin]: Why?

[Daunton]: Just come, Mostin.

*

“As you can see,” Daunton observed, “things are rather out of hand.”

A long queue of chattering wizards had formed before a desk, behind which a scholarly devil sat. The fiend was haggling with an enchantress over the precise conditions for access to a number of obscure dweomers.

Mostin barged his way to the front of the line, over the objections of many who stood there, and shoved the wizard aside. Daunton followed uncertainly.

“Please take your place in an orderly fashion,” the devil looked up towards him.

Mostin twitched.

“I am conducting legitimate business on the part of Shomei the Infernal, as her broker,” Ugales sighed. “Her rights are protected.” He pointed – not to the Articles, but to the Academy’s own protocol guidelines.

“Bah!” Mostin turned to walk away. 

“But I am also instructed to inform you that access is unrestricted in your case,” Ugales smiled.

Many voices were raised in protestation, including Daunton.

Mostin swiveled on the spot, licked his lips, and looked through the portal.

“Mostin,” Daunton tugged on his sleeve. “_Mostin_!”

“Oh very well. This _is_ irregular,” Mostin nodded. “Some our punctilio with regard to brokerage may need revisiting. You should convoke the Collegium. A course of action must be decided.”

“As Chancellor of the Academy,” Ugales added, “and _President_ of the Collegium, Daunton the Diviner is also allowed unrestricted access.”

“Oh? Really?” Daunton asked, gazing through the doorway. “Come Mostin, we must inspect these forbidden tomes, to determine if they represent a threat to our work here.”

“Quite,” Mostin agreed, as he followed him through.


**


Teppu grinned, bundling his few magical oddments – each of which was quirky, and of particular interest only to himself – into a cloak, which he tied to a gnarled oak staff.

Nehael – the _Eleos_ – stood nearby and watched. Her expression was one of sadness.

“I will miss you,” she said. “Yet not, of course. I will miss your _presence_. It is comforting to me.”

He bowed smoothly.

“When you see Nehael again, she will remember you, but she will not be the _same_,” she looked at him. “Try to remember that. It is a relationship you will have to forge anew.”

“I have experienced something similar many times myself,” he laughed. “I’m sure she will be perfectly delightful.”

“Perhaps. But not in the way you expect; her method of ending suffering – her _compassion_ – is particular.”

“A paradigm can absorb many paradoxes,” he shrugged.

“I’ll see you if you die.” She kissed him on the forehead. “Try not to,” she added.

The _Eleos_ took three paces backward toward the Great Tree-_ludja_ and smiled. “Assume an active stance, and do not compromise your truth. Give her your wisdom freely; she will need it. And do not concern yourself too much with the Aeon; it will take care of itself. Always find the Middle Way. And remember that you are much loved.”

She – and the Tree – vanished to perception. The Womb of Qinthei was closed.

Teppu sighed. All things must end.

Moments later, Nehael appeared: an avatar, emanated by the _Eleos_. The Image of Uedii, her eyes remained green within green, but her garb was scarlet.

“Teppu?” She asked.

“Red?” He asked, and bowed again.

“I will need a horse and a sword,” she remarked. “Where can I find these?”


**


At dusk, a shadow slid furtively through the grounds of the Academy; potent magic cloaked it from the dark exemplars which whirled beyond perception in the skies above. It crept from stock to bole to trunk, seeking to move forward, but always, somehow, vexed in its efforts.  Once or twice it espied what it thought might be a light but, upon skulking toward it, seemed to lose its bearings, or become snagged in some briar.

Shomei the Infernal watched the figure silently. From its movements, it was a Naztharune, but she knew that surely Temenun was not foolish enough to send it against her: what could he hope to achieve? Its purpose must, therefore, be otherwise.

In an inkling, without word or gesture, she dispelled its wards, _dominated_ it and drew it toward her with telekinesis. Their eyes suddenly alerted to the presence of the tigress, devas with cobalt skin and flaming swords were instantly all about her.

Shomei wrenched its thoughts from its mind and prepared to unleash a ruthless barrage of _flensing_ upon it. She analyzed meaning and intention, paused, and instead turned it upon its head; it hovered five feet above the ground. Shomei approached so that the Naztharune’s eyes were inches away.

She held out her hand.

It reached within its vestment with backward palms, withdrew a bunch of tumid cherries – deep scarlet in color – and placed them in her grasp.

“Tell your master that I will give his offer due consideration,” she smiled. “But that, at present, I have no nuts for him.”

She righted it and released it. It slunk away into the night.

_Your concern is appreciated_, she spoke drily into the minds of the fallen celestials. _But really, I can look after myself. You may return to your stations._

Shomei withdrew to her cottage and pondered, her mind quickly dissecting new data. Temenun’s ritual pool was not insignificant, and if he was in the process of co-opting Soneillon’s former succubi in Throile as well, then he would emerge as a major player.

She poured herself a glass of _kschiff_, threw off her cloak, removed her slippers, and relaxed by the fire. Shomei examined the cherries and sighed, placing them on a silver platter. The marriage of Will and Desire was the last thing that she needed; really, that was where it had all gone wrong last time. 

Hours passed in contemplative reverie; finally, she roused herself and stood. With a thought, she translated to Galda, appearing before the Tabernacle.

Sercion’s hand moved to his weapon, but she presented an open palm.

“I wish to speak with the _Sela_,” she said.

“Come in, Shomei,” a voice said warmly from within. “You know you’re always welcome.”

She exhaled slowly, and drew the heavy curtain aside. The _Sela_ sat in meditative posture within.

“I am not here for moral instruction,” Shomei said tersely.

“Then you are fortunate that I do not offer it,” the _Sela_ smiled. “Shall we begin where we left off?”

Shomei nodded.


*


----------



## Cheiromancer

> The marriage of Will and Desire was the last thing that she needed; really, that was where it had all gone wrong last time.




I don't know to what Shomei is alluding. Can someone help me out?

Also- "corylian" seems to mean "adopted by Hazel". I suppose one can infer hazel-like qualities (like willfulness) as a consequence. A very clever word.


----------



## Salthorae

I would presume that she is talking about a marriage between her and Hummaz, but could be way off. It seems to me that Hummaz is all about desire, an insatiable desire to be sated. Previously Will and Desire were married in one creature, the Adversary and according to Shomei, that is what went wrong "the first time". 

Since Eadric has apparently dropped Shomei for Soneillion, she still wants to consolidate her power, and gain that portion of the Adversary which is Hummaz. Perhaps marriage to him is another method she would consider. 

The other idea is that Oronthon's Sela represents his intellectual desire to create, but that would seem to be as odd a marriage as Shomei to the Ahma to me.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Random Slide Show*

I was fortunate that much of my youth was spent traipsing around castles and old churches; something which gives me a particular frame of reference in terms of my internal vision of the campaign world, but which has always been difficult to communicate to my players – moreso because they are American and I am English. I often wish I could paint.

I used to sing in church choirs when I was a wee boy-treble; I would also sneak into churches (which are always open in Britain) and play _Toccata and Fugue in D Minor_ by Bach on the organ. At least, the first few bars; it gets kind of complicated after that.

Anyway, Wyre has Frankish elements in terms of its culture and politics, but its landscape is more like England and Wales on steroids; trees are greener, mountains are sharper and taller, mist clings to lakes, the lens is soft-focus: it’s easy to view Britain romantically when it’s 8000 miles away and I haven’t been there for 12 years.

Some more personal/inspirational photographs. Sites that I am intimately familiar with, and which have a particular resonance with me.

Lake below Cader Idris in Wales: 








Winchester Cathedral. Actual floorplan prototype for the Fane in Morne. Needless to say, my favorite cathedral. I don't know what a copper beech is doing there; it should be a _Yew_:






Nave of same:







Farleigh Castle in Somerset; an example of the late Borchian Period:







Berkeley Castle in Gloucestershire. More in line with Wyrish Period:







Symonds Yat. Forest of Dean, Wales. Or Western Trempa, near Kyrtill's Burh:








An erratic near Ingleborough in Yorkshire. Wyre is heavily glaciated; erratics were venerated before stones were erected - there's a continuity between Wyre's pre-Uediian "Shamanic" practice, and later, more formalized observance.








The Externsteine near Detmold in Germany; ancient pagan site until Charlemagne put the kibosh on it. The inspiration for Groba, although the stones at Groba are more "worked" - probably by magic. I was here for a pagan festival; frankly this place scared the sh*t out of me - as did the German pagans. I expected the Dark Young of Shub-Niggurath to come oozing out of the trees.








Malvern Hills:








Interior of Saxon church at Bradford-on-Avon, Wiltshire. Thinking about it, _this_ might be my favorite church:








Bridge at Bradford-on-Avon. My favorite bridge 







Hinton Hillfort, near the real Dyrham in Gloucestershire. Ceawlin and Cuthwine defeated the native Britons in 577AD, and drove a wedge between Wales and Cornwall/Dumnonia. Behind the lens of this photo is a dry stone wall I helped repair.








/end random slide show.


----------



## Bloodcookie

Man, I only lived in England for a year, and nowhere near as picturesque or resonant as any of those places, and you're still making me miss it. The place is just _made_ of history.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Obsession – Part 3*



“Your friends have arrived,” Soneillon raised an eyebrow. “In the village. They are warded against perception – poorly. Are we entertaining, tonight? Should I send Carasch to greet them?”

“You sense of humor is singular,” Eadric smiled, but his face was etched with pain, as one who has experienced great anguish. “Who is here?”

“The Uediian and the sidhe – and also Hlioth. I have killed her once already; perhaps she liked it and is returning for more. Mostin is not with them; I suspect he is avoiding me: he still owes me Graz’zt.”

“Why did they not simply issue a _sending_?”

Soneillon gesticulated vaguely. “I confess that a number of signals have been deflected.”

“How many?” Eadric squinted.

“I did not count. Besides, it’s better that you have company on your return to Galda. Your horse is ready; Mazikreen has taken care of him. She has become rather attached.”

“He seems to have that effect. You are a curious creature, Soneillon.”

“Yes?” She fastened a garland of black lotuses around his wrist.

“What will you do now?”	

“I will brood and pine desperately, Eadric. Or perhaps I should instead fortify my position against the coming storm – which may blow from any number of directions, or from all at once. Shomei musters her devils; the Fourth Effluxion is moving – I do not relish that meeting. Dhatri’s host is marching. Desire – the Cherry – is active. And your first girlfriend has a new persona; we’ll see how that plays out. Let’s hope that you don’t like her more than me.”

“Of what do you speak?” He asked suspiciously.

“I would hate to spoil the surprise,” she replied drily.

“Shomei may still be open to dialogue,” Eadric suggested. “I have not given up on her.”

“Maybe. Or she may simply _dominate_ you at your next encounter; she is the assertive type. Although, perhaps you’d like that too.”

“You are impossible.”

“Thank-you,” she gave a small nod. “I try not to take things too seriously.”

“You need not remain here.”

“I am not tied to this place, Eadric; I come and go as I please. But prudence demands that I strengthen a bulwark, and this one is better than most. And it would appear that Nehael – your _Eleos_ – has been of some _use_ after all; she has struck a delicate balance, which compromises neither my solidity here, nor your attachment to this particular plot of earth. I should ask you to thank her for me when you next pray to her, but I won’t; it would be an inauthentic request.”

“Do you care to explain?” He asked.

“You will discover when you leave. Don’t you ever like surprises, Eadric?”

“Generally, no,” he said grimly. “It would appear that the lacuna has passed. If another should arise, I will return.”

“Of course you will, _Ahma_.” She smiled darkly. Her eyes were fathomless voids. “And things need not always be so _harrowing_; your courtesy and forbearance have earned my gratitude. But I have known you in death: you are now _mine_. And I don’t share well.”

She pressed a scarf of black samite into his hand, and curled his fingers tightly around it.

*

Fresh snow had fallen, blanketing the courtyard; the winter sun was wan. Eadric looked upon the Blackthorn cautiously, as if his gaze alone might invoke malignancy from it, but it seemed subdued, as though its song had changed in some way. He closed the door to the keep behind him, and turned to pull a handful of dead ivy away from the wall, but green leaves had begun to shoot. He paused, confused, and lowered his hand.

_Eleos_, he knew, and understood Soneillon’s words. 

The _Ahma_ made his way to the gatehouse, and slowed to regard the Steeple where Carasch roosted; the demon seemed not to have moved a hair’s breadth. A shadow of darkness passed across his mind; again, the same feeling of dread and foreboding oppressed him, as he felt the chthonic’s eyes follow him. He shook it off with effort, and trudged forward.

“Nice horse,” Mazikreen handed him the reins to _Narh_. “Come again.”

Eadric climbed into the saddle, rode through the gate, across the bridge, and straight for Deorham. He did not look back to the Burh. 

Within, Soneillon brooded.


**


“You knew,” Ortwine glared at Nwm. “And so did you.” She glared at Hlioth.

“Yes,” Nwm laughed. Beer-foam clung to his beard; the _Twelve Elms_ was thronging with activity.

“I did not. This irks me,” Ortwine continued.

“You are attuned to darker currents, Ortwine,” Hlioth sighed. “And none of us can see everything.”

“These benches are still filthy. And why is there a hole in the ceiling?”

“Should we go to the _Burh_, I wonder?” Nwm mused.

“We wait,” Hlioth replied. “He will come here, or will not. She can see us.”

A short time passed, and Eadric entered.

Hlioth quickly spoke a spell, masking the _Ahma_ from the inevitable attention – and subsequent religious hysteria – which his presence was likely to provoke.

He nodded in gratitude, and sat.

“Gods, you look terrible,” Ortwine observed. “I’d offer a quip, but even that seems inappropriate. Nice bracelet, by the way.”

Eadric shook his head.

“Did you encounter the _rot_? How was it?”

“Ugly.” Eadric scowled.

Ortwine sniffed her wine disapprovingly, and placed it on the table. “Nehael seems to have reversed it. But the cordon set by the _ludja_ is still in place. We are inscrutable; although apparently not to Soneillon. Did Nehael communicate with you regarding her intervention here?”

He shook his head. “At Galda, I invoked the _Eleos_; I prayed for the safeguarding of Deorham – of all within the Blackthorn’s range. I must assume that she listened; or she chose to act thus anyway.”

“A goddess who listens sets a worrying precedent,” Ortwine remarked. “And if Shomei comes here now?”

“I may have to forbid it outright,” Eadric replied.

“_Forbid?_” Nwm asked sceptically. “One does not _forbid_ Shomei the Infernal anything. If you set yourself up as Law; she will be forced to confront you.”

“She will not attack me. I am the _Ahma_.”

“Are you sure?” Nwm inquired.

“No,” Eadric admitted.

“Is there an alternative?”

“I would prefer to avoid conflict here. Attempting another dialogue with Shomei is the first step. But I will not have Soneillon assailed for no reason…”

Ortwine groaned. “You are blind, Eadric. This girl has you mixed up.”

“…other than the fact that she possesses something which Shomei _wants_. Yes, Ortwine? You are about to present some solid, ethical case? A sound reason why I should allow half of Trempa to perish in smoking ruins, whilst demons and devils run amok and Carasch slugs it out with a half-dozen fallen seraphim? I am sorry, but _because Shomei wants_ is not a compelling argument to me.”

“_Carasch?_” Ortwine asked.

“I was coming to that. He is at the Burh. Climb up the ridge above the North Road; you will see him perched on the Steeple.”

“And he will see you,” Hlioth said. “I advise against it.”

“And Soneillon is the _innocent_ party, here?” Ortwine spoke contemptuously. “There _is_ no greater demon than this one, _Ahma_.” The religious appellative was pronounced with some derision.

“I know it well!” Eadric snapped. “He has haunted my imaginings for longer than you know; since first I heard his name. And now he is at the Burh? Do not worry, Ortwine; the irony is not lost on me. And trust me: in person he is worse than in your darkest nightmares. I do not doubt that he could extinguish all life within a hundred miles – but, as of yet, no rampage has ensued.”

“And you are confident that your psychotic inamorata is trustworthy?” Ortwine exuded pure acid. “Or even capable of containing this monster? _This_ is where I question your judgment, Eadric.”

“Soneillon asked me one question – and one only – to which I have attached value throughout this: _If not by my action, then how will you judge me?_. For one who advocates repeatedly and in varied guises for Shomei’s case – and I suggest you question your own motivation in _that_ regard – the notion of _agency_ and its implications should strike a particular resonance.”

The sidhe smiled coldly. “Let us hope that your suspense of judgment – and your action – is vindicated.”

Nwm coughed. “You said yourself that Cheshne was awakening, Ortwine. That Soneillon is not who she was.”

“And at no point did I suggest that I _trusted_ her,” Ortwine groaned.

“There is something else,” Hlioth spoke through gritted teeth. “Shomei seeks to woo the ritual pool offered by the Academy, and bribe leading members of the Collegium. Mostin has committed himself to protect the Articles – and curiously enough, I believed him, because he believed himself – but until the Articles are actually _threatened_, he will not act. Gihaahia will prompt him; she is _leaning_ on him – and Daunton. In the meantime, he may try to reason with Shomei – he may be the only one who can slow the meteor. Or she may attempt to sway _him_; and she is the superior rhetorician.”

Nwm nodded. “She is smarter than Mostin. Shomei presses hard against every barrier. She tests her exemption to the limit. For what it’s worth, I don’t think she’ll strike here until Dhatri reaches the envelope of the scions at Galda. I suspect that she will force you to choose, Eadric, or split your force. And perhaps I should keep my mouth closed in future, and learn from the _Ahma_’s mistakes: if the wizards _do_ find a goddess in Gihaahia, then a reign of dark magic is imminent.”

“Her parentage is mixed,” Hlioth said archly. “She is the daughter of Astaroth and the Void; it might behoove us to remember this fact – it is apt enough. Forces other than the Claviger may be seeking to manifest through her.”

“We are a muddled and incestuous pantheon,” Ortwine sighed.


**


:: Mostin ::

Begone, Vhorzhe. I have nothing to say to you.

:: Soneillon has abandoned us, Mostin ::

I don’t blame her. Now, _begone!_.

*

“_Roses of life?_” Daunton grinned broadly, brandishing a scroll. The two wizards were closeted in an obscure nook of Hell’s library. Mostin wondered if they might need a spell to find their way out again.

“I am beginning to understand Shomei’s strategy,” Mostin sighed. “We will spend the next thousand years searching for and transcribing exotic dweomers, whilst she suborns the Academy and uses it for whatever she wants. And we shall be perfectly happy. How long have we been here, anyway?

“I have no idea,” Daunton mumbled. He brushed dust off a green tome entitled _The Fortification of the Skin_. “It’s a shame Rimilin is gone. He’d like this one.”

“Why are we even here?” Mostin asked. “We don’t _need_ any of this.”

“No, you don’t.” Shomei had appeared from nowhere behind them. Daunton started. She seemed inordinately calm and focused. “And you have been here for nine hours. But there are transvalents; some were struck by the Adversary. Would you care to see them?”

Mostin twitched. His heart pounded. “And you have not committed them to your armamentarium?”

“There are more than a few. Most are beyond my ability – or yours – to cast,” she smiled. She did not need to add the word _yet_.

“Proceed,” Daunton said enthusiastically.

“Your library persona is an agreeable one,” Mostin observed.

“This is my passion, Mostin. You know this. I am most _me_ here; I would not have you think that a quest for raw power has blinded me to what is important for my _I_ – which is, and remains, the pursuit of knowledge. Now, follow me.”

She led them through winding corridors, past dens and studies, between stacks of books and down flights of steep stairs. They skirted repositories and scriptoria; passed through secret panels and hidden doors. All was silent, and musty. Finally, she produced a small key and opened an iron postern at the rear of a room crammed with scrolls. They descended yet more stairs, until they reached an open space. Ahead was an area of dead magic. Shomei gestured for them to proceed; the Alienist paused uncertainly. 

“I would not cut the claws from the cat and then leave him at home with the fox,” Mostin said through narrowed eyes.

“Mostin…” 

He assumed his pseudonatural shape.

“Then you will have me at a disadvantage,” she sighed. “Because the cat just became a wolf.”

The hall beyond was cavernous, a hundred fathoms tall, and stretched as far as Mostin’s many eyes could see ahead of him. Their footsteps – and his slitherings – echoed within. In the vaulted ceilings, great ruddy lights glowed at intervals, illuminating the contents: countless slabs - of adamant, marble, alabaster, steel, jade and obsidian - attached by clamps to soaring cables. A vast infernal apparatus controlled the assembly above; pulleys, derricks and sheaves arranged with impossible intricacy.

They followed as Shomei made her way to a booth which contained an array of levers and switches. She initiated a complex operation; wheels span, gears ground, and a single slab – a hundred yards distant – slowly swung out into the chamber and towards them. 

When it reached them, she lowered it into a waiting channel: it was a plaque of diabolic steel, three feet wide and six high. As she released its clamp, another, like a vice, contracted to grip it. It stood upright before them. Daunton gaped. Mostin reached out, and ran a pseudopod over the embossed glyphs and sigils. It was a thing of beauty.

_The Irrefutable Argument_, it read. It was a spell which had been in effect when the Nameless Fiend had precipitated the Fall; when unnumbered billion celestials had been seduced to his cause.

“This is Knowledge, Mostin. This is my legacy; I am the librarian of Hell.”

“Yes,” he quivered. Shomei read it as a nod.

“I am making an appeal to you.”

“I understand,” he hissed. Shomei heard it as a sigh.

*

Daunton sat within her study; Shomei poured _kschiff_. Mostin stood, looking at the Accord which hung above the mantlepiece.

“Temenun has offered an alliance.” She nodded toward the cherries which still rested on their plate. “He suggests that I marry the remaining Hazel scion to a Cherry which grows in Nivorn. I am reluctant to conflate Will and Desire for obvious reasons. But with his _Anantam_ and the succubi in Throile – who bear no great love for their former mistress – I am looking at the twelve-hundredth order. I can do a lot with that.”

“But you would prefer to use the Wyrish Academy,” Mostin finished for her. “Because they are known, safer, more passive – but they also represent the body which Gihaahia is mandated to _uphold_.”

“Touché,” Shomei raised her glass. “I find it hard to believe that the Enforcer will censure a majority, if it comes to infraction.”

“I don’t,” Daunton grumbled. “She is a tyrant, not an elected representative.”

“I have tried the more _wholesome_ route,” Shomei sighed. “I cannot make headway. The _Ahma_ is stubborn and irrational, and refuses to engage with his own potential. Those who practice _saizhan_ are difficult to inspire – except the Irrenites, who are a small minority and whom I have yet to approach. I do not _feel_ compassion – and I am not one wont to make empty gestures. I went to see the _Sela_ yesterday.”

Mostin groaned. “You are certainly exhausting all avenues. What is it with you and Oronthon, anyway?”

“I cannot explain. I was confused, angry and depressed. His perspective is beyond all others. There is no judgment in him.”

“And he offered a solution? Or absolution?”

“Actually, neither. He offered tea. And a mirror to look in.”

“And what did you see?” Mostin asked cynically. “Note that I do not afford much credence to his mystical posturing.”

“That my _I_ is relational, and does not exist in a vacuum,” she shrugged.

“That is all?” Mostin scoffed. “I might have told you that.”

“But you didn’t, Mostin. That’s the point. Regardless, I need help – not compactees and servants and indentured mages, but willing partners. To retrieve the _Urn_. To master Hummaz. To _correct_ the Morphic and end the Claviger-Enforcer’s _tyranny_. To propagate knowledge. Is this goal not worthy?”

“And you would have me play Belial to your Adversary,” Mostin said acidly. “Did the _Sela_ also whisper in the ear of the Nameless Fiend before the Fall?”

“Actually, I think you would know my answer to that.”

“It is no surprise, then, the spell which you chose to show us,” the Alienist remarked.

“There is a certain symmetry; it is hard to deny.”

“And you would then elect yourself as the new arcane factum?” Mostin inquired drily.

“I am a librarian, Mostin. It is only natural.”


**


----------



## Knightfall

Is it wrong to love and hate Shomei at the same time?


----------



## carborundum

It's the only way 

Another wicked update - I had to abandon my New Year's party when I got the notification  Great stuff - thank you Sep and Happy New Year to you and all in Wyre!


----------



## Bloodcookie

Shomei puts the _I_ in Library - and in Τὸ Μεγα Θηρίον!


----------



## grodog

Thanks Sep, and Happy New Year! 

FYI, the pic for Winchester Cathedral is missing:



> Winchester Cathedral. Actual floorplan prototype for the Fane in Morne. Needless to say, my favorite cathedral. I don't know what a copper beech is doing there; it should be a Yew:


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Obsession – Part 4*


Turel and Rumyal – two infernal seraphim – and Irel, Who Smites, passed swiftly through the skies above the frozen River Nund; three flights of dark exemplars accompanied them. Warded and augmented by Shomei, all were inscrutable to any but the most probing eyes. They flew east, and skirted the compass of the Blackthorn near Droming. Irel gyred and broke away. The mighty deva cast his gaze – unrivalled amongst celestial princes, fallen or otherwise – toward Deorham and Kyrtill’s Burh, one of Wyre’s holiest sites: the birthplace and earthly dwelling of the _Ahma_. It was impenetrable; his sight could not pierce the shroud which Soneillon had set about the place.

Twelve miles distant, the demoness herself stood upon the Steeple beneath the shadow of Carasch – a smoldering void which had yet to erupt to blistering rage – and stretched lazily. The great chthonic had seen them . Was Shomei baiting her, or testing the limit of her perception? Or was this a simple reconnaissance? Soneillon considered: to act would be to disclose; to ignore, to dissemble. 

She chose to act.

Carasch turned his thought on them, casually smashing their protections.

Soneillon materialized within the main flight and spoke a soundless syllable, unleashing oblivion. Turel and Rumyal, Great Antagonists who had previously offered counsel to the Adversary himself, were instantly extinguished along with eighteen devas.

She disappeared. 

Irel alone remained. 

Soneillon reappeared, and her speed was blinding. Tendrils of void lashed the fallen prince, stripping away _ens_ like vapor, and flinging his mace from his hands. She hissed, and drove him into the ground in a tempest, claws sinking through his throat and chest and pinning him. Ichor steamed as it poured from his massive frame, staining the snow black; his strength ebbed from him.

She paused, and smiled.

“My, but you _are_ the pretty one,” Her eyes widened and her wings curled. “And you are unbound; without compact: I believe she _likes_ you – how delicious! It is so tempting to _steal_ you. Alas! My heart belongs to another. But now I am feeling tender; she may keep you. Invoke your mistress by name.”

The deva was silent.

She raised an eyebrow. “Presently, I am keeping you from dying, Irel, and it would be sad to lose one as beautiful as you. Do you trust that your spirit will fly to the winds; or will it go to the Tree-Bitch for _reallocation_ – perhaps, as a wood-gnome or troll? Heaven is lost to you, and there is no time to show you the Void. She may save you – if she cares for you. Speak.”

“Shomei,” he choked. Ichor welled in his mouth.

She brought her face close, and her grip relaxed. She moved over him.

“Good…” She breathed softly in his ear. She lifted her head and smiled at Shomei, whose infernal perception had been drawn there.

Soneillon gently withdrew her talons, and vanished.


**


Shomei tapped her fingers. She picked up a bottle of _kschiff_ and hurled it against a bookcase. Hellfire crawled over her.

Mostin smiled unsympathetically. “You’re in way over your head; she has fifteen billion years on you, and she _enjoys_ this. Perhaps you are beginning to appreciate the magnitude of this task?”

“How did she see them?”

“I could not say,” Mostin replied. “Probably a transvalent. She may have allies.”

“I spent a third of my reservoir repairing Irel’s wounds. They just _wouldn’t heal_. His cohesion was…wrong.”

“You are fortunate she simply obliterated the others,” Mostin observed drily.

“If you were to send your _Ú_s…”

Mostin became irritable. “Shomei, you may be exempt from the Injunction – and I say _may be_, because much has yet to be tested – but one thing is certain: _I am not_. You asked me here for advice, and I will give it to you: _let this go_. You are simply unprepared for this endeavor; if you do actually attack her and she survives and escapes do you really think that she will calmly forgive? Do you think Eadric – I’m sorry, the _Ahma_ – will? Now, I am going to offer you some _perspective_ again, because it is apparent to me that at this point that she has acted with the utmost restraint with regard to you…”

“I don’t need this, Mostin...”

“…_by not already annihilating you._ And if you don’t think she could have accomplished this, had she set her mind to it, then you are _stupid_. Perhaps Eadric has restrained her; perhaps her perspective is other than we can guess. And she let you keep your favorite toy; although what you see in those hideous, feathery monsters is beyond me.”

Shomei glared at him. “She drew first blood, Mostin, not I.”

“And I think she might cite provocation as a reasonable defense; frankly, I would be inclined to agree with her. You are the lawyer; what do you think? Perhaps we should ask Gihaahia to mediate – although Soneillon’s _exemption_ with regard to the Injunction is not in question. Do not give her a _casus belli._”

“I cannot slow now, Mostin.”

“You must!” He was exasperated.

“No; I cannot. _It is what I am._”

“Then you should repair to your library,” he said grimly. “Or stay safely within the compass of the Hazel, because if you begin this and then step beyond its bounds – and are not prepared to finish what you’ve started  – then she will find you and extinguish you. You will make a prison for yourself, Shomei; and that is _symmetry_.”

“Will you aid me?”

“I am disinclined,” he replied.

“If you were to speak to the _Ahma_; find out what transpired at Deorham. He has returned to Galda…”

“I will not _spy_ for you Shomei. If you have questions for Eadric, ask them yourself.”

“Mostin. Please. Then use the _Web of Motes_. At least let me know what I’m dealing with that I haven’t foreseen.”

He stood and sighed. “I will contact you in one hour. Do not ask me for anything else. Here.”

He took off his hat – his favorite ochre felt, with its wide brim somewhat charred – and placed it on her head.

*

Exactly one hour later, Shomei received a _sending_ which contained only one word: _Carasch_.

She sat and tapped her fingers. Time elapsed.

She translated to Galda for the final time.


**


“I see you bear your rod,” Eadric said dubiously. “Are you here to coerce me this time?”

“It is a preventative measure,” Shomei explained. “May I sit?”

He gestured toward a chair. “I am not about to assail you, Shomei. I’m glad you came. I have been considering how to approach you.”

“_Ahma_, I lost twenty of my best devils earlier today in an unprovoked attack by your lover.”

“Unprovoked?” He asked sceptically. “Would you like _kasshiv_? It’s all I have left – Nwm and Ortwine drank everything else.”

“Yes.” She raised an eyebrow at his pronunciation. “My servants were reconnoitering over Trempa; they were beyond the compass of the Blackthorn.”

“I did not realize a formal exclusion zone had been established,” he said drily, pouring a goblet for her. “Shomei, I have been pondering how to deal with this _situation_ and I’m at a loss. I cannot seem to appeal to you; I cannot risk _forbidding_ you for fear of provoking the _Antinomos_ in you to an immediate response: I do not wish to come to blows with you. But you are flouting every law conceivable: Wyrish, magickal, ethical and religious. What would you have me do?”

“Enkindle your potential, _Ahma_. But you do not seem interested in assuming this responsibility.”

“That is a larger question which we may return to,” Eadric sighed. “In the meantime I must consider the wellbeing of those whom I am charged to protect; I am Earl Marshal of Wyre, Shomei: I must defend it, regardless.”

“You know that Carasch is aiding her, of course?”

“He is her watchdog. I have encountered him. He is terrifying. It is not germane to this discussion.”

“I lost two seraphs in her ambush, _Ahma_.”

“They ceased being seraphim at the beginning of the _last_ Aeon, Shomei.”

“Yet the _Ahma_ would place himself as a shield before this chthonic abomination?” She asked.

“No,” he groaned. “But he would place himself as a shield before the inhabitants of Trempa. There are limits on the number of devils which even you can conjure and compel, Shomei. If you send them in waves, will she be able to kill them quicker than you can call more? Or perhaps you will muster a large force, and she will entrench further: and the longer the buildup, the worse for everyone.”

Shomei looked hard at him. “Not all devils need to be compelled, _Ahma_. Only a key few – and then, only persuaded. I could end this all very quickly.”

His eyes flickered nervously. “I do not follow.”

“Azazel still bears the standard; two hundred legions accompany him. There is no longer a Celestial Interdict.”

A look of horror crossed his face. “You would do this? Raise _that_ banner over Wyre?”

“I would prefer not to, but I must have the _Urn_, _Ahma_.”

“By invoking the eschaton? And you dub Soneillon psychotic?”

“She is,” Shomei smiled thinly. “I am merely determined. And the eschaton has been and gone, _Ahma_. We are what’s left.”

“And if I were to demand of you – _command_ you – how would you respond?”

Shomei shook her head. “Please do not force me to make that choice, _Ahma_. It would not sit well with me.”

“Indeed? For one who asserts the _Ahma_ as central to their paradigm I am sure it would cause you some discomfort.”

“I simply wish you would embrace the larger reality.”

“Then perhaps we should force the issue.” He stood grimly and drew _Lukarn_, gripping it below the quillons and presenting it in censure. It illuminated the interior of the tent. “By the authority…”

“Please, _Ahma_...”

“…vested in me as _Ahma_; the Breath of God manifest in the world…”

“_Ahma_…”

“…I hereby command…”

“Eadric. Do not…”

“…that _Shomei_…”

Her Flame ignited. She brought the full force of her will to bear through her rod; it was colossal, and should have overpowered him. Instead, there was a resonance, and a reflection, which Shomei experienced as a great gale blasting over her. His pavillion and its contents were gone, blown to the four winds. Both Shomei’s eyes and those of the _Ahma_ became wide in astonishment; a cluster of lotuses in the garland which he wore on his wrist had turned to dust: Soneillon had warded him, and he hadn’t even known it.

Devas and archons appeared all around him, summoned by his thought, but her presence paralyzed them; they would not strike her, only worship her. He _smote_ her repeatedly, but her exemption protected her. Her will recommenced, unleashing a cyclone of hellfire focused on herself which could not touch him, but which slowly burned the garland to ash. 

He spoke a _holy word_; again, exemption sustained her.

The firestorm increased in intensity; still the lotuses burned away. The devas were incinerated.

Nwm – alerted and now present – struck her with a sonic of tremendous power, which echoed for miles. She weathered it, and her focus did not falter; she hurled the Preceptor aside with _telekinesis_.

The last blossom turned to soot. Finally, she gripped Eadric’s mind, and _dominated_ him. 

“I’m sorry, _Ahma_. It’s a preventative measure.” She wept.

Abruptly, both Shomei the Infernal and the _Ahma_ vanished.


**
**


The goddess strode ahead impatiently.

Teppu followed, anxiously. “What should I call you?”

“It does not matter – call me what you wish.” Her manner was disconcertingly brusque.

“You were Nehael before,” he suggested.

“Then call me Nehael.”

“But you are no longer the same.”

“Then call me something different,” she sighed.

“May I choose a name?” He suggested.

“Why not?”

“Names are important.” He explained.

“Are they?” She asked.

“Yes! Stop!”

She stopped, and smiled at him. “Do you have one for me?”

“You are not so different,” Teppu laughed. “Where are you going?”

“This way,” she said.

“What is this way?”

“What I need.”

“What…”

”Good,” she said. A horse stood waiting; a varnish roan mare. Strapped to the saddle was an arming sword. A bow – with flowers tied around its limbs – was fixed around its cantle, and a quiver of red-fletched arrows hung from its skirt.

Teppu raised an eyebrow. “That bow is…”

“Yew.”

“And the arrows…”

“_Hazel._”

“And the sword…”

She drew it, and it rang; runes were etched into its blade: _Trúa_.

“Compassion?” He asked.

She shook her head. “_Pity_, Teppu. One cannot slay with compassion.” 

“Where are you going now?” He asked.

“South,” she smiled.

“Why…”

“The _dead_ are there Teppu. Are you coming?”

“Certainly,” he replied uncertainly.

She climbed into the saddle, picked him up, and deposited him behind her.

Moments later, they were at Cirone. Ahead, the _Pall of Dhatri_ loomed.



**


----------



## Zelda Themelin

Oh, so interesting setup.


----------



## Quartz

Action at last!


----------



## carborundum

Mostin will be displeased, Soneillon will be livid!

I can't wait!


----------



## Cheiromancer

So Eadric is not living up to his potential. Curious, that. I wonder what would spark *his* flame?

Any thoughts on Shomei's and Eadric's abrupt disappearance? Was it due to Shomei's agency, or did someone else intervene? I suspect the former, but the latter is a tantalizing possibility. 

And is Shomei's brief, meteoric career approaching it's end? Sep tells us that this was her _final_ translation to Galda.


----------



## Pelenor

Been following this story hour for years.    After this last installment my hunch is that Shomei is probably going to be on the recieving end of a whuppin.  The question is of course by whom?


----------



## Vargo

Pelenor said:


> The question is of course by whom?



I'll take E - All of the above.


----------



## Pelenor

She'd better hope someone intervene's or her dominate works or something happens to stop Eadric from attacking her.   I suspect if he decided to and nothing stopped him that he'd carve her up like a Christmas Turkey.


----------



## Salthorae

I read that as the Dominate DID work, which was why she shed a tear at having to do it...

I think it is Shomei to instigated their disappearance, but it wouldn't surprise me overmuch if it was some other agent coming to lay the figurative whooping down upon the Librarian of Hell...


----------



## grodog

A _very_ interesting development!  Can't wait for the next chapter 

Sep:  at this point are you guys still playing, and if so, how far behind are you in story events vs. play events?


----------



## tleilaxu

great stuff! i can't help hoping for more.


i love this section from part III. shades of rhialto and ildefonse?



> “Oh very well. This is irregular,” Mostin nodded. “Some our punctilio with regard to brokerage may need revisiting. You should convoke the Collegium. A course of action must be decided.”
> 
> “As Chancellor of the Academy,” Ugales added, “and President of the Collegium, Daunton the Diviner is also allowed unrestricted access.”
> 
> “Oh? Really?” Daunton asked, gazing through the doorway. “Come Mostin, we must inspect these forbidden tomes, to determine if they represent a threat to our work here.”
> 
> “Quite,” Mostin agreed, as he followed him through.


----------



## carborundum

I was just thinking about the sudden whisking away... a Dominate on Eadric would be a perfect condition for a contingency and just something Soneillon would guard against. Hmmmmm?


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Obsession – Final Part*



She hung, naked and motionless in the void, gazing at the world. Behind her and beyond her, an infinite expanse of emptiness stretched. 

Wyre was blanketed in snow, a heavy veil which pressed upon its wide provinces and muffled the verdancies which pulsed beneath. It ranged from gold through deep crimson, west to east, as dusk stole across the frozen landscape below.

Further south, greens prevailed; and then a great fume of corruption, surrounding a perfect circle of blackness: the _Pall of Dhatri_. A red dart was moving within it, like a surgeon’s knife attempting to excise some cancer, the roots of which ran too deep. Nehael, yet not. _Suuratamanyu?_* she considered; an obscure and ill-defined _bhiti_ – if such it was – or merely another manifestation of _Aliikaghana?_

She did not care.

She turned her eyes to the Sun and observed it impassively; she understood its radiance: no longer feared it. It regarded her with disinterest, as a parent who has surrendered a child and watched it grow separate, but from a great distance. It did not offer anything, and all she had gained had been apart from it. But neither did it condemn: its judgment was suspended, as though in regret of previous choices it had made. An admission, perhaps, of its own fallibility.

It began to sink over the Western Ocean, and an intense display of color ensued; the atmosphere split the light into its component parts like some deific prism: every element of the spectrum was revealed. For the briefest moment, the rumor of an Idea: a vast wyrm – serene, yet energized; a perfect, infinite potential – coiled around the world. Then, just as suddenly, it was gone. The luminary vanished. Beyond – now free from its glare and glamour – the ruddy Eye of Cheshne pulsed. 

She descended through aurorae, plunging rapidly through the thermosphere. Meteors flashed to incandescence around her; she outpaced them, dropped through noctilucent clouds and felt their crystals caress and cool her. Her plummet came to rest at an altitude of twenty miles. She cast her glance downwards.

Lights were kindling in a city: an unfolding sevenfold symmetry, spontaneous yet inevitable. Her eyes followed a thin line which ran south and west into rolling hills, apprehending an involuted knot in a deep hollow.  

Then she remembered that she was a demoness, and that she was angry.

*

[Soneillon]: You have one hour to evacuate the Academy. 

[Many Wizards]: !

_Sendings_ buzzed across Wyre. Twenty minutes elapsed.

(Far to the north and west, in an obscure corner of Nizkur).

[Mostin]: This demonstration is unnecessary, Soneillon. Shomei has marginalized herself by her own actions.

[Soneillon]: Oh, there you are.

Soneillon appeared within his study, a writhing mass which pinned Mostin, spreadeagled, above the fireplace.

“Don’t try and wriggle, Mostin,” a childlike face materialized, and then a body. “Or I’ll have to hurt you. You may have more tentacles than I, but mine are far _nastier_.”

A tendril reached inside his robe, flipping open pouches in his _belt of many pockets_, and searching until it retrieved a sphere of adamant, ten inches in diameter. She shook it vigorously, until Graz’zt’s countenance appeared.

“Well, look who it is,” she smiled. An expression of horror crossed the face of the demon prince.

Her form became fully humanoid – that of a small child, which she had chosen in previous dealings with the Alienist – as she secreted the globe on her person. Mostin dropped unceremoniously onto the floor.

“Now that that’s settled,” she hopped into a chair, and dangled her legs, “you have around forty minutes to convince me not to level the estate. I will not name her, and would advise the same of you: it would draw her attention here – funny how that comes around. But she has my boyfriend, and _I want him back._”

*

Mostin sighed. “Destroying her _former_ abode would achieve nothing, Soneillon – except, perhaps, to irritate her.”

“That would seem as good a place to start as any. You are fuelling my argument, Mostin, not dissuading me. You need to think more like a demon.”

“She may also invoke the Hazel,” Mostin continued. “In which case, no effort on your part will penetrate its cordon. And do you really want an Academy unified in defense under her leadership? She has been seeking to co-opt the ritual pool; this would hand it to her on a plate. And _in defense_ she would even receive the sanction of the Enforcer.”

“That is far more persuasive,” the demoness conceded. She issued another _sending_.

[Soneillon]: I’ve changed my mind.

Three hundred miles away, scores of wizards breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“Less than a minute. Not bad, Mostin.”

Mostin groaned. “You had no intention of destroying the Academy, did you?”

She shook her head.

“You tracked my _sending_ to its source. Circumvented my obfuscations. You are a devious one.”

She hopped down, and ran over to him. Her form changed, and she threw a dozen tiny tentacles around his knees. She looked up with multiple huge, doe eyes welling with tears.

“Will you help me get Eadric back, Mostin? Please?”

“You are insufferable,” the Alienist replied.

“You are not an erotic creature, Mostin; I must adjust my tack accordingly.” 

“I am no more paternal than I am erotic,” Mostin observed.

She sighed, and once again became a succubus. “Will you help me or not?”

Mostin shook his head. “She is within Hell’s library, Soneillon; it is _separate_ – part of the prior infinity. Eadric is also there. There are two doors, and both lie within the Hazel’s ambit. You cannot touch her while she remains there. I have been inside, with her approval: she may come and go as she pleases. There is a tight net around the ‘front door’ – a cottage very close to the Hazel scion itself – the area where she performs her conjurations. The ‘back door’ – so to speak – is within the library of the Academy. Only Ugales has permission to enter and leave; he retrieves obscure spells and tomes for ambitious mages in return for outrageous pledges. The back door is currently closed anyway.” 

Soneillon gave a suspicious look. “How do you _know_ that Eadric is in the library, Mostin? Presumably your divinations cannot penetrate it.”

“A wizard does not reveal all of his means.”

“And how did you anticipate certain events in Afqithan?” She persisted.

Mostin sighed.

“Do you have a _thing_ which helps you?”

“Yes,” he grudgingly admitted.

 “Can I see it?” Soneillon smiled.

“Well…”

Soneillon raised an eyebrow, and slowly revealed _Pharamne’s Urn_. Mostin’s eyes rotated in his skull.

“Mostin. You have to show. No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Very well,” he produced it. “It is called the _Web of Motes_. Although I think  every wizard in Wyre knows I have it – I’m surprised that you didn’t hear already.”

She shrugged. “I tend not to mix with wizards, Mostin. They are usually dull – present company excepted, of course. And you _will_ help me. With this _mote_-thing of yours, you can determine whether or not she is in her library, am I correct?”

“Yes, but it makes no difference. How difficult is this to explain…”

“Because you _can_ help me,” she smiled. “In fact, I believe you are the _only_ one who can.”

“You are not listening, Soneillon.”

“Yes, I am, but you’re not. She is a devil. I cannot conjure devils, Mostin. But you can.”

“She is _magnified_, Soneillon. Binding such an entity is a different proposition altogether.”

“My reservoir is deep, Mostin. It is yours.”

He considered; Shomei had gone too far, there was no denying it. His mind rapidly processed transvalent algorithms, finding various solutions.

“You will not annihilate her,” the Alienist exhorted.

“Mostin, be reasonable…”

“I mean it, Soneillon. She is a colleague, and a fellow intellect. Let me handle her.”

“Oh, very well,” Soneillon sighed.

“I will need a week to devise the formula.”

“A _week?_ Wyrish wizards are so _slow_.” 

“And I will need the _Urn_,” Mostin smiled madly.

Soneillon’s eyes narrowed. “No you don’t, Mostin. We both know that.”


**


“Do you purpose to keep me here indefinitely?” Eadric raised his eyebrows. He sat easily in the posture of _saizhan_ within a _forcecage_ in Shomei’s study. A fire – of cut hazel logs – burned slowly and steadily in the hearth.

“Only until I have the _Urn, Ahma_,” Shomei was curled nearby in a comfortable chair, reading. She did not meet his eyes.

“And you still address me by the religious appellative. You are an unlikely abductress,” Eadric observed. “And an even more unlikely Adversary.”

“_That_ moniker is defunct,” she sighed.

“Your actions would indicate otherwise. Should I officially brand you as such? I do determine doctrine, after all.”

She shifted her position, and took a sip of _kschiff_.

“If it would be easier for you, I will be silent. Or perhaps you could _dominate_ me again.”

“I take no pleasure in depriving you of your will, _Ahma_.” She raised her head and looked at him. “Of all things, that, at least should be clear about me.”

“But you _did_, Shomei,” he replied.

“I must judge necessity, _Ahma_; for my Self, no other can.” 

“And, in hindsight, was your judgment correct?”

She placed the book down, open, on the table beside her. “If you are asking whether I have experienced remorse, then the answer is _yes_: I am not beyond that. But what is done is done. The question of what to do next preoccupies me now. Such is my nature.”

“You would seem to be missing a moral compass, Shomei.”

She gave a small smile. “I do not need one, _Ahma_. My lack of kindness is perfectly balanced by my lack of malice. My temper needs some work.”

“And if jealousy and hatred come to rule you? What then?”

“Then you and I will have both failed, _Ahma_, but for different reasons.”

“Yet jealousy and obsession have characterized many of your actions of late.”

She stood, approached the _forcecage_, and knelt, drawing close. Her presence was intense, focused and calm. “Are you speaking of my reaction to your liaison with Soneillon, or to my efforts to gain the _Urn_?”

“You do not take well to being thwarted, Shomei. And the union of opposites is something which you yourself once gave me advice regarding.”

“_Ahma_, there are many _hieroi gamoi_. Some are fleeting; some enduring. Some take place within a paradigm; others – such as that of the Reconciliation – span infinities; others beyond infinities even into the ineffable. I do not deny your experience of Soneillon; it is, in fact, an articulation of truth far beyond Magnitude as the Urgics would understand it. But it is not _ultimate_ in the sense that nothing is _ultimate_, and whether it is even _enduring_ remains to be seen. I am pragmatic, and could only offer you a paradigm, _Ahma_; to shape the reality which we inhabit. To make it _better_.”

Eadric laughed bitterly. “Something which Azazel and his two hundred legions can help you achieve, I presume? Your argument is beginning to sound more than a little deluded, Shomei.”

“Do not interpret the transparency of my thought to you as an articulation of intent; there are other avenues which I would prefer to exhaust first. Understand that I began with the most _moral_ from your perspective: an alliance with you. I do not practice _saizhan, Ahma._ My method is otherwise. It is for me, and me alone. It can be neither learned, nor taught. I must invent it myself as it evolves; at critical junctures, I have looked to others – including both you and the _Sela_ – for help, but the solution must always be _mine_.”

Eadric shook his head. “Your reaction to my anathematization of you – to engulf me in hellfire and coerce me – would suggest to me that this relationship is far from clear to you. My word is Law; but you accept none but your own.”

“It is a paradox I grapple with.  I do not wish to be branded your Adversary, _Ahma_. To become what you most hate. I strive only to realize my potential.”

“And you somehow insist that I am capable of a similar feat; this awakening of my potential to which you refer. Yet it demands embracing some harsh and violent truth for you; a willing sacrifice of your own humanity. Something which I am unprepared to make.”

“I am a fiend, _Ahma_,” Shomei smiled.

“But you were not always so.”

“Nor were any others. Deep down, I have always _wanted_ to be a devil, _Ahma_. I think you know this. And no such sacrifice is necessary from you: you are the _Ahma_. One reason why seeing you confined thus saddens me.”

“Then you might release me.”

She sighed. “If you were to affirm that you would make no efforts to assail me or escape, then I might grant you exit from that box. But I would prefer not to _dominate_ you again.”

“I will so vow. Although I am unsure if my assent is tantamount to my endorsing your actions.”

“Life is full of paradoxes, _Ahma_.” The _forcecage_ vanished. 

“A little freedom is a precious thing,” he stood and glanced around.

She gestured. “The library is that way, _Ahma_. All the devils are gone; I’m the only one left. Call me if you get lost. I will hear you.”

“I cannot help but like you, Shomei.”

“I know. It makes it difficult.”

She returned to her book.







*Wrathful Mercy


**


----------



## carborundum

I love this story


----------



## Knightfall

It just gets better all the time.


----------



## pogre

It's funny. 

I came to ENWorld tonight to see if this story was updated. Had I not, I would not know a new edition of D&D was announced. Yet, I was more excited to see that this story was updated! 

Many thanks for your frequent posting the last few days.


----------



## Baron Opal

I'm losing track of things. What is Shomei's "exemption"?


----------



## Soramain

Baron Opal said:


> I'm losing track of things. What is Shomei's "exemption"?




At first I thought it was referring to an exemption from the Injunction, because that seems to be part of Mostin's concern with the whole situation: Soneillon is exempt, Shomei may be as well, and the Wyrish collegium is potentially caught between them.  

However, rereading this:



> Devas and archons appeared all around him, summoned by his thought, but her presence paralyzed them; they would not strike her, only worship her. He smote her repeatedly, but her exemption protected her. Her will recommenced, unleashing a cyclone of hellfire focused on herself which could not touch him, but which slowly burned the garland to ash.
> 
> He spoke a holy word; again, exemption sustained her.




Her exemption seems to protect her from a _holy word_ and from smite evil.  Perhaps it is some benefit conferred or realized from her relationship to Eadric and to the Sela or maybe it arises out of her rejection of a purely adversarial paradigm.  I don't know.  As a practical matter, it seems that she is highly resistant or immune to effects which would normally be effective against fiends or those of strong evil alignment.  In other words, she is a fiend who is exempt from some of the normal perils of fiend-dom.

Or perhaps I'm totally off base.  That's one reason this SH is so fun.


----------



## carborundum

From her statblock (I am using my phone, can't copy the text and the link so easily) 

Doubly Exempt (Ex): Shomei may ignore any alignment-based effects which might adversely affect her due to her subtypes; conversely, she may choose to be affected by any alignment-based effects which would provide her with a benefit. Devils and other lawful evil outsiders automatically recognize Shomei's status and their initial attitude toward her is always friendly; evil feys and suborned devils with the [Green] subtype treat her likewise. Divinations which attempt to discern information pertaining to Shomei's alignment always fail.

You can search for a few sentences from that for the full spectacularness


----------



## Solarious

As detailed in her writeup in the Legacy thread where Sep used to post crunch, Shomei is *Doubly Exempt*; this means she may ignore anything that would affect her due to her subtypes, or allow them as she sees fit, as well as being immune to any attempt to divine her alignment. It's something the Adversary gave her a while back when she became a devil.

Edit: Ninja'd when researching the proper references! *CURSES.*


----------



## Cheiromancer

The write-up is here:

http://www.enworld.org/forum/d-d-legacy-discussion/5652-eadric-et-al-paladin-his-friends-60.html#post5169439


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Day 1 – Antiphon*


Nwm and Ortwine stood waiting before the fortified gates at Galda, and watched as the rider approached from the south. She, her horse and her harness were caked in blood, ichor and entrails so thick that the muck might need to be scraped clear with a trowel rather than washed away; her visage was altogether terrifying.

As she approached, the Preceptor noticed that she carried another with her: a diminutive figure who clung desperately to her waist, barely able to remain upright in the saddle. She reined in, reached behind her, and lowered him gently to the ground. Her small companion shivered and stood unsteadily.

“Hello, Nwm,” Nehael said, “Ortwine. Teppu is tired, and I think he’d like a bath. Where is Eadric?”

Ortwine looked at Nwm and raised an eyebrow.

*

“Eadric is very _popular_ with the ladies, these days, Nehael.” Ortwine gave a caustic smile. “And I must say, red rather suits you; I can see that it is also a _practical_ color.”

They sat around a campfire: one of hundreds which burned in the encampment. The goddess had acquiesced to a cantrip to clean her of the foul-smelling gore which had clung to her, but which had seemed not to perturb her in any way; it was, in fact, for Ortwine’s benefit that she had agreed. Teppu was wrapped in a blanket, asleep.

“I had hoped to speak with him; to discuss the reconquest,” she threw off her boots.

Ortwine cast a sidelong glance at Nwm, who shrugged.

“Might I assume that you lack the prescience of your previous sister-avatar; now, your mother-deity?” Nwm inquired. “I am unaccustomed to explaining anything to Nehael; usually the information flows in the other direction.”

“I _slay_, Nwm,” she said simply. “This is the persona that you get: I make no apology for it. It is _necessary_. I don’t have time for magic or plots or webs. I am the counterpoint which Uedii must chant to contain the corruption; her image reflected through the _Eleos_: the enlightened, engaged, dynamic face of compassion. I am unsentimental, and occasionally ugly on the surface. Nor am I as _Tree_-ish as my former self; actually, I prefer horses.”

She lay down on her back in the wet earth and looked upwards. The Follower was soaring in the east, flickering through the smoke in the air. Some time passed before Nwm spoke again.

“You are aware that Eadric is currently being held by Shomei the Infernal?” The Preceptor queried.

“Well, I imagine I might have been, had I thought about it.” She thought about it. “I see. I suppose I could go and talk to her.”

“_Could?_” Ortwine gave a quizzical look.

Nehael raised her head, leant on an elbow, and smiled. “Eadric is confused, Ortwine. It is his defining feature. He gets himself into these _situations_; I’m not really convinced that my becoming involved at this stage would help. He should have followed my advice, and simply exercised compassion.”

“In which specific instance?” Nwm asked. 

“He shouldn’t have censured Shomei, Nwm. It didn’t help. Really, he just lost his temper and became offended and pious. It’s always been an issue with him.”

“Mostin is working on a solution.”

“Yes. Mostin may aggravate the problem further,” Nehael remarked.

“And this assumes that Soneillon does not become unhinged in the interim,” Nwm added.

“Ahh, Soneillon,” she lay back down. “Another _situation_.”

Ortwine stared hard at her. “For an avatar of _compassion_, you seem very free in your criticism of those absent.”

“I would say the same to him – or her – were either here, Ortwine. As you have rightly implied, malicious gossip is incompatible with my nature. And frankly, the march of Dhatri’s host and the Embassy are of more concern to me at present than Eadric’s convoluted emotional life. I put an arrow in the latter earlier today; she knows I’m here well enough.” 

“Then that is some good news.” Nwm grunted approvingly.

“She will not make the same mistake again.”

“By the _Embassy_, I assume you are referring to Kaalaanala’s final effluxion,” Ortwine sighed. “And each time I say _that_ name I am nervous; in case I draw her perception to me.”

“The Trees protect you from that faculty here, Ortwine.”

The sidhe gave a stony look. “Had the Trees here been more _comprehensive_ in their protection – and not allowed dreaming demonesses and exempt devils to penetrate their cordon - then this entire fracas might have been avoided. I think we may have placed too much faith in their effectiveness in protecting the _Ahma_’s moral fibre.”

“On the last count, I am inclined to agree.”

“So will you speak to Shomei?” Nwm inquired.

“Well. Are you asking for my intercession in this?”

“I don’t know,” Nwm admitted. “Should I?”

“Probably not,” Nehael replied.

“Then I suppose I won’t,” Nwm sighed. “But if I had, what would you have done?”

“Nothing,” Nehael smiled. “Which is the best that can be done at the moment. Ask me in a few days – things will probably unravel even more before they come together again. ”

“A prescience?” Nwm asked archly.

“Call it what you like,” Nehael shrugged. “I experience it as a vague notion. And today was too much for this one; he is too gentle.”

The goddess stood and removed her cloak. She folded it and placed it under Teppu’s head.


**


Eadric did not see Shomei – who had exited the cottage in order to perform conjurations, and sealed it behind her – for the entirety of the next day. After quickly becoming bored, he ventured forth to wander alone in obscure and musty corridors within the limitless repository which was Hell’s library. Ruddy candles burned with infinite slowness in deep sconces, barely illuminating the interior. It was eerily silent and – except for the occasional tome which itself exhibited some sign of sapience in addition to its malignancy – there was no question within the mind of the _Ahma_ that he was alone.

Eadric was not a scholar; or rather, he had never had the time to pursue his scholarly interests: the art of war had demanded most of his attention throughout his life. The weight of infernal knowledge oppressed him, but more by virtue of its sheer volume than by its evil content. He considered the magnitude of Shomei’s commitment to the task of _knowing_ the library; surely she must have read only the minutest fraction of the books contained within it. It seemed an impossible undertaking to master even its geography; to familiarize oneself with its contents would take a life’s age of the universe, or more. 

It did not take him long to become lost, despite – what he had been sure – were his own meticulous precautions to the contrary regarding his bearing and distance from Shomei’s study. After a brief period of anxiety – during which he considered that his aimless wandering might, in fact, be his eternal lot – the _Ahma_ determined that he would _climb_ – the notion of ascent being comfortable and familiar to his inner aesthetic. Whenever a staircase – whether a narrow spiral, steep ladder, or wide companionway with sweeping balustrades – presented itself to him, he would eagerly scale it. At times, he would backtrack in frustration: his path would lead to a hidden nook, a suite of chambers or dark, diabolic cloisters with no other exit, and he would search out some new way. He entertained no notion of destination in his efforts, except _up_. Yet the light became no brighter; the atmosphere no less oppressive. There was no relief to be had, except in the act of ascent itself; a metaphor which struck him as particularly apt, given the nature of his hostess – or gaoler.

After what must have been many hours – all sense of time having long since left him – Eadric stumbled upon an archway within which a grate of adamant bars had been set. Dire runes were carved in warning above the threshold; _symbols_ which, although they posed no threat to him, would have slain any devil of lesser stature who might have approached them. He looked at the bars: no keyhole or aperture of any kind was present. Peering through the grate, only darkness was present beyond. Eadric ran his fingers around the archway, searching for some secret mechanism. Nothing.

He illuminated the space beyond with _daylight_. A narrow tunnel, extending ahead as far as he might see.

Mustering all of his strength, he gripped the grate and tore it away from the archway, placing it ruefully against the adjacent wall, conscious that he had committed some gross act of vandalism against the integrity of the place – then berating himself for entertaining any notion of guilt in the context of his current predicament. Lighting the passageway at intervals, he proceeded for a hundred yards until he came upon another archway – this time unblocked by gate or door. A sound threatened to overwhelm, until he recognized it. Some trap had been triggered; a _holy word_ of great power. Eadric gave an ironic half-smile; fiendish interlopers – not the _Ahma_ – had been on the mind of whoever had set the device: a barely-visible glyph which throbbed in the keystone above.

He entered into a low chamber perhaps ten feet on a side, and illuminated it. On shelves or chained to the walls were books with tarnished covers; they had been neglected and forgotten for many epochs. Ancient books. Forbidden books. Books whispering secrets best left untold. He opened one, and thumbed its metalline pages – _Meditations on Radiance_; and then another – _Divining the Light_; and then another – _The World of Men to Come_. He tilted his head.

They were celestial books, penned by great devils – then seraphs and other episemes – before the Fall. 

He sat, and began to read.


**


Soneillon hovered high in the skies above the Academy, beyond the compass of the Hazel-_ludja_, and gazed at the shifting patterns around the scion. She was hidden – more effectively, she knew, than the fallen celestials who had come to spy upon her at Deorham – but was, herself, unable to penetrate the layers around the Tree below. A nest of hemi-demiplanes, through which a tortuous path wound to Shomei’s cottage: invulnerable to her magic and sight. The concursion which was the library’s ‘front door.’

There were many devils in the skies below her; of that, there could be no doubt. But they remained invisible; their numbers and type unknown. Six more days must elapse before Mostin could complete his arcane equations; a formula which would incorporate only herself, Mulissu and Nwm: the Alienist had indicated that he trusted no other – including Ortwine, whose duty to the Hazel was suspect – to be part of it.

She scowled, and retreated to Deorham; she considered that, were she to abandon it and Shomei to locate her beyond the stronghold , that some force brought against her might overwhelm her and deprive her of the _Urn_. Extinction was of no particular concern to her, but being _bound_ – by Shomei – remained a possibility, however remote. The Infernalist would need a sizeable ritual pool in order to guarantee success, and would need time herself to devise a suitable rite – and some safe location in another world, from which it could be conducted.

Mostin had elected Sisperi as his venue. But Mostin might fail, whatever his _mote_-thing told him.

Soneillon considered the time she had before the test came. She allowed her anger to subside, and gave thought to entrenchment: should it become necessary, it would be as well to be prepared.

The demoness began in earnest to fortify both herself and Kyrtill’s Burh with powerful spells.


**


Shomei sat by the fire, reading, when Eadric entered. His route to her study was not something he could accurately recall; there was no doubt in his mind that she had guided him back by some art.

She raised her head as he entered. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

His eyes narrowed. “I found; although I was not looking for it.”

“That is often best,” she nodded.

There was a brief silence.

“I may have caused some…structural damage,” Eadric confessed.

“Don’t worry, _Ahma_. I’ve already repaired it.”

She returned to her book.


*


----------



## Baron Opal

Shomei shouldn't be so complacent. I have a feeling that Eadric won't come to the same conclusions that she did.

I seem to remember that Shomei was played on-again, off-again by someone during the Afquithan arc. Does that player still make any input into Shomei's actions, or is she fully a NPC again?


----------



## grodog

Perhaps Shomei feels that knowledge of these pre-Fall tomes will spark Eadric to either Fall himself, or to realize the new state of being that she feels he should be reaching....


----------



## Felix

Or maybe that section wasn't just the stuff written by fallen angels... maybe heaven and hell are connected through their libraries! Eadric was in a corner of Oronthon's library and he never even knew how close he was to meeting the guy first hand!

After all, everything and everywhen is connected in L-space. Just watch out for monke-*

*SMASH*

Ouch! Sorry... watch out for Orangutangs!


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Nehael*

[sblock]Nehael as the Red Antiphon, using a Paragon Inherent Divine Array modified by succubus racial adjustments. A spell-less ranger variant is used for extra feats. Gear value is for a 75th-level PC; actual CR is probably somewhere in the CR75-80 range. The “red” manifestation is only possible after Nehael’s ascent to Sovereignty, prompted by the actions of the _Ahma_ with regard to Soneillon; at this point the DvR12 _Eleos_-Nehael can emanate a variety of avatars in the DvR6 range – including both the “red” and the original “green” Nehael. 

Some distinction needs to  made between “green” and _Green_: all of Nehael’s avatars are _Green_, in the sense that all stem from the Uedii-complex, but it is the first (after her migration) which is “green” in terms of her garb and appearance, and her pacifistic tendencies. The _Eleos_-Nehael – the DvR12 manifestation – retains this green garb and appearance but, as a paradigmatic entity, can transcend normal categorical paradoxes.

Nehael’s “red” manifestation holds a number of antithetical elements in tension. She retains the Lust portfolio, an aspect of the “green” manifestation which is only barely alluded to, but which is intensified and more explicit in the “red” second iteration. The Healing, Good and Life portfolio elements are more in accord with Nehael’s symbolism in general; the War portfolio element and domain are “appropriated” from the vanquished Visuit – the demise of the Cheshnite war-goddess might also be seen as a precondition for the appearance of the “red” avatar.

“Red” Nehael might be best understood as a “fierce compassion” – directed specifically toward ending the suffering of undead creatures (and demons, representing ignorance) – and returning chthonics to their natural state of _Nonbeing_, in which they are “happiest.” Notions of spontaneity, eroticism and enlightened action are emphasised.

Nehael’s total symbolism can probably be best understood in the context of the “goddess” Kuan Yin – the Chinese iteration of Avalokitesvara, the _bodhisattva_ of compasssion and mercy – and the Tara complex of compassionate tantric deities within Vajrayana Buddhism. Red Tara symbolism is convoluted because it also draws heavily on pre-Buddhistic components: Artemis/Diana and Aphrodite/Venus elements – in terms of Western mythology – are also incorporated into her meaning. 

Anyhoo…


*Nehael*
The Red Antiphon. Image of Uedii.

*Lesser Goddess*
*Symbol:* The Sword
*Home Plane:* The Primordial Tree
*Alignment:* Neutral Good
*Portfolio:* Compassion, Good, Healing, Lust, Life, War
*Worshippers:* Any
*Domains:* Good, Healing, Lust, War

*Fighter 20 / Ranger 20*
*Medium Outsider *(Good, Green, Native)
*Divine Rank:* 6 

*Hit Dice:* 20d8+560 plus 20d8+560 plus 20d10+560 plus 720 (2920 hp)
*Initiative:* Supreme Initiative (+37)
*Speed:* 180ft.
*Armor Class:* 162 (+15 armor, +33 Dex, +25 deflection, +6 divine, +12 insight, +12 luck, +19 natural, +30 sacred), touch 128, flat-footed 129
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +40/+95
*Attack:* +120 (1d8+64/15-20, _Pity_) or +120 (1d8+64/19-20x3, _Yew Bow_)
_vs. evil undead_ +126 (1d8+80+9d6/15-20, _Pity_) or +126 (1d8+80+9d6/19-20x3, _Yew Bow_)
*Full Attack:* +120/+120/+115/+110/+105, _Pity_ or +120/+120/+120/+115/+110/+105, _Yew Bow_ with Improved Rapid Shot
*Space/Reach:* 5 ft./5 ft.
*Special Attacks:* Spell-like abilities, Salient Divine Abilities, Favored Enemy
*Special Qualities:* Camouflage, divine aura (60 ft., save DC 84), divine immunities, DR 25/ epic and evil, evasion, fast healing 20, hide in plain sight, immortal, remote communication, salient divine abilities, SR 200, understand, speak and read all languages, speak directly to all beings within 6 miles, swift tracker, interplanar _transport via plants_, universal energy immunity, wild empathy, woodland stride. 
*Saves:* Fort +130, Ref +135, Will +127
*Abilities:* Str 58, Dex 77, Con 66, Int 50, Wis 49, Cha 60
*Skills:* Balance +123, Bluff +109, Climb +108, Diplomacy +127, Escape Artist +117, Gather Information +109, Handle Animal +109, Heal +103, Hide +117, Intimidate +115, Jump +114, Knowledge (arcana) +104, Knowledge (geography) +104, Knowledge (nature) +110, Knowledge (nobility) +104, Knowledge (the planes) +104, Knowledge (religion) +104, Listen +103, Move Silently +117, Ride +123, Sense Motive +103, Spot +103, Survival +103, Swim +108, Tumble +123

*Feats:* Bounding Assault, Combat Expertise, Dodge, Endurance, Far Shot, Greater Weapon Focus (longbow), Greater Weapon Focus (longsword), Greater Weapon Specialization (longbow), Greater Weapon Specialization (longsword), Improved Critical (longbow), Improved Critical (longsword), Improved Disarm, Improved Initiative, Improved Precise Shot, Manyshot, Melee Weapon Mastery (slashing), Mobility, Mounted Archery,  Mounted Combat, Point Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Ranged Weapon Mastery (piercing), Rapid Blitz, Rapid Shot, Ride-By Attack, Slashing Flurry, Spirited Charge, Spring Attack, Track, Trample, Weapon Finesse, Weapon Focus (longbow), Weapon Focus (longsword), Weapon Specialization (longbow), Weapon Specialization (longsword)

*Epic Feats:* Bane of Enemies, Death of Enemies, Dire Charge, Distant Shot, Epic Fortitude, Epic Reflexes, Epic Weapon Focus (longbow), Epic Weapon Focus (longsword), Epic Weapon Specialization (longbow), Epic Weapon Specialization (longsword), Epic Will, Improved Manyshot

*Divine Immunities:* Ability damage, ability drain, acid, banishment, cold, death-effects, disease, disintegration, electricity, energy drain, imprisonment, mind-affecting effects, paralysis, poison, sleep, stunning, transmutation, turning and rebuking.

*Salient Divine Abilities:* Alter Reality, Divine Dodge, Extra Domain (War), Gift of Life, Image of Uedii, Rebuttal of Death, Supreme Initiative, Viridescent Mind

*Spell-Like Abilities:* Nehael uses these abilities at will as an 81st-level caster. The save DCs are 56+ spell level where appropriate: _aid, blade barrier, charm person, clairaudience/clairvoyance, dispel evil, divine power, flame strike, heal, holy aura, holy smite, holy word, invisibility, lesser planar ally, magic circle against evil, magic vestment, magic weapon, mass heal, power word (any), protection from evil, refuge, regenerate, scrying, spiritual weapon, summon monster IX (good), symbol of persuasion, sympathy, trap the soul_ 

*Interplanar Transport via Plants (Su): *Nehael may use this ability at will. Caster Level 81st.


*Other Divine Powers*

As a lesser goddess, Nehael treats a 1 on an attack roll or a saving throw normally and not as an automatic failure. She is immortal.

_Senses:_ Nehael can see, hear, touch and smell at a distance of 6 miles. As a standard action she can perceive anything within 6 miles of her worshippers, holy sites, objects or any location where her name was spoken in the last hour. She can extend her senses to up to five locations at once. She can block the sensing power of deities of her rank or lower at up to two remote locations at once for 6 hours.

_Portfolio Sense:_ Nehael instantly detects any event which involves five hundred or more people and is related to her portfolio.

_Automatic Actions:_ Nehael can use any skill related to her portfolio – even those she has no ranks in – as a free action, provided that the DC is 20 or less. She can perform up to five such free actions in a round.

_Create Magic Items:_ Nehael can create magic items related to her portfolio without the requisite item creation feat provided she meets all other prerequisites for the item, and the item's market price does not exceed 30,000gp.

_Divine Aura:_ As a free action on her turn, Nehael may choose to emanate or suppress an aura of daze, fright or resolve with a radius of 600ft. A Will saving throw (DC84) negates the effect.


*Special Attacks and Qualities*

*Green Subtype (Ex): *Nehael is always considered a native of the Prime Material plane, Faerie, Primordial Tree and the Planes of Spirit for the purposes of effects which target outsiders. 

*Alter Reality (SDA): *Nehael can replicate any spell effect of 9th-level or lower (caster level 81st, where appropriate). Use of this ability costs 5000xp, and is drawn against a weekly cushion of 30000xp.

*Image of Uedii (Unique SDA) (Ex):* Animals, plant creatures, feys, magical beasts, vermin, elementals and spirits with a connection to the natural world cannot harm or be compelled to harm Nehael in any way, and the initial attitude of such creatures towards her is always one of fanatic loyalty (ELH, p.40). 

*Rebuttal of Death (SDA):* Undead within 60ft. with 30HD or less are automatically turned by Nehael; those with 20HD or less are automatically destroyed. Undead creatures are subject to critical hits from both ranged and melee attacks by Nehael.

*Viridescent Mind (Unique SDA):* Nehael enjoys an effect similar to a continual _commune with nature_. The range of the Viridescent Mind is 60 miles (10 miles per divine rank), except Nehael's perception also extends into Faerie, and coterminous Spirit planes. She may share her perception with any number of other willing creatures within range. 

*Favored Enemies:* Nehael gains a +10 favored enemy bonus against the Undead subtype, and a +2 bonus against Aberrations, Evil Outsiders, Chaotic Outsiders and Dragons. If she scores a critical hit against any of these types, the target must make a Fort save (DC 78) or die.


*Equipment*
All of Nehael’s items are major artifacts; in any case where a caster level equivalent is necessary, treat the CL of the item as 60th.

*Breastplate* (25M)
Nehael wears a light vest of armor, equivalent to a _+10 heavy fortification universal energy immunity ironbark breastplate_ which grants a +10 enhancement bonus to Strength, Dexterity and Constitution and a +20 resistance bonus to Saving Throws. It incurs no armor check penalty and has no associated maximum Dexterity bonus.

*Leaf Pendant *(43M)
This pendant appears as a small leaf in a simple setting, attached to a thong of woven bark from the Great Tree-_ludja_. It conveys a +30 sacred bonus to saving throws, a +30 sacred bonus to armor class and grants Spell Resistance 200. Profane, unholy or divine damage is treated as normal energy damage for the wearer of the _Leaf Pendant_ unless its source has 13 or more divine ranks.

*Sword* (30M)
Nehael’s sword, _Pity_, is an intelligent neutral good finessable _+10 cold iron, everdancing, keen, speed, undead dread, holy power longsword_. It has Int 18, Wis 40, Cha 40 and an Ego of 73. Its special purpose is to _slay undead_; its special purpose power is _undeath to death_ (improved heightened to 30th level) – the Save DC to resist this ability is adjusted by the wielder’s Charisma score  and divine rank: in Nehael’s case, the DC is 71

*Yew Bow *(22M)
Nehael  carries  a bow carved from a limb of the Yew-_ludja_, a _+10 holy power, speed, undead dread, unerring accuracy composite longbow_. 

*Quiver of Hazel Arrows *(35M)
Nehael carries a quiver which contains an inexhaustible supply of arrows from the Hazel-_ludja_. These are _greater slaying arrows_; the target type is determined by Nehael at the moment the arrow is loosed. Arrows may be imbued with additional effects as Nehael sees fit; when nocking an arrow, as a move action she may also determine a specific additional effect which it will have:


_Earthshudder_: No attack roll is necessary if this arrow is shot. An area within range is subject to an _earthquake_ effect (improved heightened to 30th level), except the DC to resist specific effects is 71.
_Negate Magic_: A target struck by this arrow is also subject to a _superb dispelling_ effect (caster level 81)
_Pierce Will_: If struck, a target’s Wisdom score is reduced to 1. This effect is equivalent to a _bestow greater curse_ (improved heightened to 30th level); the target is entitled to a Will saving throw (DC 71) to resist the effect but spell resistance does not apply. This effect is permanent; it can be removed by a deity with 6 or more divine ranks.
_Ravage_:  This arrow acts as poison upon chaotic and evil outsiders, even if they are normally immune to such effects. Targets must make a Fortitude saving throw (DC71) or sustain 6d6 points of Dexterity damage; one round later, they must make a second save or sustain 6d6 points of Constitution damage.
_Verdigris_: No attack roll is necessary if this arrow is shot. The arrow creates a sphere of _verdigris_ with a radius of 100ft. Creatures must make a Reflex saving throw (DC71) or sustain 10d6 points of damage from the sudden plant growth and become _entangled_. Buildings and other structures likewise sustain 10d6 points of damage.
[/sblock]


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## tleilaxu

daunton and mostin reminded me of ildefonse and rhialto.

red and green nehael brings to mind t'sais and t'sain. 

i really appreciate the updates lately!


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## Cheiromancer

Where is the Lust domain from?

Also - many thanks for the updates, Sep!  They are, as always, a great pleasure to read.


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## Starman

Cheiromancer said:


> Where is the Lust domain from?




I believe it's in the Spell Compendium.


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## Sepulchrave II

*Day 2 – Down*


“You are very _small_, Shomei,” Eadric observed.

“Yes, _Ahma_.”

“Is this an hereditary trait?”

“My flesh is infernal, _Ahma_.”

“But your prior incarnation – upon which your present body is based – was…_slight_. At least, the _first_ one was…or… What I mean to say is that I know nothing of your ancestry. Is your lineage magical?”

She gave a quizzical look. “It _was_; yes, _Ahma_. Sorcerous, actually – although several generations removed. And aristocratic. With a dash of fey – which is never a bad thing for an arcanist, and may account for my _small_-ness.”

“And your parents?”

“Were devout and faithful,” Shomei said drily.

“And what became of them?”

“Devils killed them, _Ahma_.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I _conjured_ the devils, _Ahma_,” Shomei explained.

“Oh.” A look of horror crossed his face.

“I was young,” Shomei was nonplussed. “It was an act committed without principle.”

“How young?” Eadric asked.

“Five, _Ahma_.”

His eyes widened. “_Five?_ Your parents had angered you in some way?”

“They took my books away, _Ahma_. I wanted them back.”

“Oh,” Eadric nodded uncertainly. “Perhaps they thought your books were dangerous?”

“They were, _Ahma_.”

“Apparently so,” Eadric raised an eyebrow. “And after you had…well…”

“Murdered my parents?” She asked.

“Yes…”

“I got my books back, _Ahma_.”

“But in terms of your _upbringing_, Shomei.”

“My servants looked after me.” 

“No other relatives? No guardian?” Eadric asked, aghast.

“I did not need them. My servants were _devils_, _Ahma_.” 

*

“Yesterday, you went _up_; will you go _down_ today?” Shomei inquired.

“Exactly how closely have you been monitoring my movements, Shomei? And did I stumble upon the celestial repository, or was I directed to it?”

“I did not manipulate you toward it, if that is what you are asking,” she replied. Her answer seemed genuine. “I knew of it, but have not had the leisure to investigate it. But the library has a habit of _presenting_ certain books or collections; if you were _directed_, then it was not by me. As to monitoring – not in the way you might think. I am aware of where you are and where you have been, if I call you to mind. I _can_ encourage you to take certain paths – as I did in your inbound journey yesterday when I perceived that you wanted to return – but in your explorations, you were following your own impulses. I was busy with my conjurations.”

“Would you suggest going down?”

“I make no recommendation,” Shomei answered. “You could go straight, or left, or right, or backwards; or some combination of any of these – including up and down – but these are harder to track. _Only_ going down is an easier route to focus upon; you are new to the geography.”

“I suspect that the willful act of descent would be harder for me,” Eadric remarked.

Shomei shrugged. She exited the cottage, and sealed it.

Eadric sighed.


**


“They seethe and swell like a great, purposeful ocean of malice,” Nehael explained. “They are without number. There is nothing left for them to consume except each other; hence they must _move_. The greatest – Idyam and Dhatri herself, together with the Embassy – remain near to the centre. Rishih, Naatha and Prahar are closer to the periphery of the mob. They are only forty miles away – would you like to see?”

Nwm nodded grimly. 

Ortwine looked sceptical. “How?”

“I can show you; Nwm knows what I mean. The experience will not be pleasant.”

“Very well.” The sidhe gave a resigned sigh.

Perception expanded to embrace reality within sixty miles. To the south, a festering tide of corruption of such magnitude that it seemed as though the World could not sustain its weight. Nwm reeled. Ortwine staggered and vomited. 

“And you experience this _all of the time?_” Ortwine groaned. She vomited again.

 Nehael smiled. 

“How did you get close enough to _shoot_?” Ortwine asked her, regaining her breath. “Was she not alerted?”

“Yes,” Nehael nodded in a matter-of-fact way. “But she did not withdraw. She struck me with fire. Coming within a league was difficult. The press of corpses was thick; it was hard to aim…”

“Wait. You can shoot from _three miles_?”

“I can shoot from six, Ortwine; as long as I have a clear aim – I didn’t.”

The sidhe wiped her mouth and raised an eyebrow. “This, I have to see. I assume that your missile struck its target unerringly?”

“I shot eighteen arrows at her before she could react,” Nehael replied. “Only one found its mark.”

Ortwine looked at Nwm. “I think we’re _seriously_ out of our depth.”

Nwm stared at Nehael. “And Teppu…how did he fare? I mean, I have never seen him so _weak_.”

“He died five times. It was difficult for him. And each time I brought him back as himself again – it is hard for a self-incarnate such as he.”

“Why was he even _there_? Could he meaningfully affect the outcome?”

“A little, perhaps. But each of us can only do _a little_. I do not enjoy what I do, Nwm; really, he was there for me. So I didn’t have to be alone. He is kind.” She smiled.

“And today?” Nwm asked. “You will both ride out again?”

Nehael shook her head. “I would spare him the experience.”

“If you require a consociate,” Nwm said, “I will gladly offer myself.”

“I think you should also remain,” Nehael suggested. “Teppu is here; Hlioth is nearby; Mesikammi is on her way. The Temple is all but spent of power, and the _Ahma_ is missing. You should give thought to the defense here; a quarter of the Cheshnite host will be here within a few days.”

“Only a quarter?” Ortwine asked.

“It is more than enough to contain Galda,” Nehael explained. “The rest will bypass it altogether, and head north, straight for Wyre. And I have a companion in mind.”

The sidhe heard a soft hoof-fall, felt hot breath on her neck, and turned. _Narh_ had approached, and was nuzzling her eagerly.

“Me?” Ortwine inquired. “Undead are not my specialty.”

“If you are willing, I could use the company.” Nehael smiled. “Besides, you said that you wanted to see me shoot.”

“Two against a million would seem to be a rather uneven match.” Ortwine observed drily.

“If it were only a million, our impact might be more significant,” Nehael replied.

“If I die, take note that _I_ am perfectly content with this form; I do not wish to be a buckawn or a sylph.”

“Duly noted,” Nehael nodded. “Unless Hummaz snatches you first.”

Ortwine raised an eyebrow. “A joke?”

“No,” Nehael strapped her sword across her back. “It is unlikely, but it is as well to be prepared. Stay close to me; you will encounter every conceivable type of undead, and some you have never imagined. You are goddess: the deathshriekers cannot touch you, but beware the crawling heads and famine spirits; many can abide my aura, and they may bite your head off.”

“Eadric, you moron,” Ortwine muttered under her breath, and mounted the stallion.


**


Eadric descended rapidly; he leaped down staircases, over banisters and through shafts which gave to lower floors. His heart pounded, and he wondered if there was a _bottom_ to be found; no _top_ had been revealed to him on the previous day, but he was also certain, in his own mind, that the library was _finite_. It did not appear to _bend_ – inasmuch as he did not come back to some place which he had previously visited – and it seemed sensible to him that the entrance from Shomei’s cottage should be closer to the bottom than the top, and that the bottom must, therefore, be more accessible.

But he found no root; no foundation to the library: only a dismal, perpetual declivity into measureless depths filled with books. Again, all sense of time eluded him, but he knew that his plunging into the library’s bowels had consumed him for many hours; he had descended for miles. 

Eadric paused to consider his predicament: ascent might take him days; he would need Shomei’s help, this time. But to ask her for anything…the notion sat uncomfortably with him. Had she returned? Or would his whispered entreaty to her interrupt her work? And why should the notion of _distracting_ Shomei from her purpose – to overrun Wyre with devils for the object of her own self-aggrandizement – cause him conflict, in any case?

He sat upon a stone bench within a niche in a damp wall, and cleared his mind. From his pocket, he withdrew the scarf of heavy black silk which Soneillon had bestowed on him and pondered. The magics which the demoness had placed on the garland of flowers had eluded Shomei’s perception; he wondered if the samite might hide some similar secret. He needed a dream, perhaps, and she might manifest through it; but there were no dreams here. The prior infinity in which he found himself was cut off; isolated.

Eadric replaced the scarf and stood. He would wait a little while longer. He removed a hellish candle from its pricket and willed light upon it, illuminating his surroundings with a more substantial brightness; the radiance was at odds with the general character of the place. He walked a little way, rounded a corner, and found himself looking over a balcony into a wide amphitheatre. Some kind of devilish lecture-hall or auditorium; Eadric wondered what kind of lessons might have been expounded within its circuit. After searching for some time, he found his way down and made his way to the lectern – a morbid pulpit, wrought of steel and bone – upon which a book lay open. Its language – being an archaic dialect of Infernal – was unfamiliar to him.

He thumbed its hide pages and looked at dense text interspersed with curious pictograms and symbols, wary that he might inadvertently hex himself or invoke some latent malevolence. Still, the book somehow seemed _less_ wicked than its surroundings. Recalling Shomei’s words regarding the library’s tendency to _present_ certain tomes, the _Ahma_ closed the book, removed it from the lectern, and tucked it beneath his arm. He ascended several levels, found a quiet cloister and scanned its pages for some clue as to its meaning, but could determine none. Finally – and again, time seemed to have drifted by without measure or meaning – he sighed.

“_Shomei_,” he spoke in a clear voice.

She appeared presently, and raised an eyebrow. “You have been gone a long time, and come very deep indeed, _Ahma_. These collections are hardly known to me.”

Eadric held out the book.

Shomei took it, and scanned its cover. She flipped its pages; her eyes widened in incredulity.

“I felt this tome was significant,” the _Ahma_ explained. “It was on a rostrum in a hall not too far from here.”

Shomei stared at him suspiciously. “It might be deemed an heretical codex, from a conventional diabolic perspective. Here.”

She ran a hand over the book, and returned it to him.

_The Reattainment of Luminance,_ it read.

“There is no author,” Eadric remarked.

“No. The author had no name, _Ahma_.”

Eadric handed it back to her, and smiled. “Then I believe it is for you. The _Sela_ once said to me that for you to surrender yourself to bliss would be the ultimate antinomian act. Perhaps the prior _I_ entertained similar notions?”

She gave him a dubious look. “I will read it. But entertaining a notion and acting on it are two very different things. I confess I am weary, _Ahma_; if you wish to return…”

He nodded, and the scene changed abruptly: they were back in her study. As always, the fire burned; the scent of cinnamon hung in the air. It seemed familiar, comfortable, safe. Shomei placed the book on a table, threw off her robe and uncorked a flask. Eadric knew that she was exhausted; that she had emptied herself that day. He wondered if he might overwhelm her.

“Would you like _kschiff_?” She asked.

“No. But thank-you.” Eadric removed his shoes, sat, and entered _saizhan_.

When he arose, he saw that she was curled, asleep in a chair; the flask of liquor was empty and barely a dram remained in her glass. _The Reattainment of Luminance_ was open on its last page; she had already finished it. He took it from her hand. The pages were still wet from her tears.

Eadric sighed, covered her with the _robe of meteors_, and returned to his meditations.


*


----------



## Knightfall

Am I reading it right?

Are the Cheshnite host on the move because the bad guys sensed that Eadric had disappeared. Or, were they already advancing on Wyre?


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## grodog

Sepulchrave II said:


> When he arose, he saw that she was curled, asleep in a chair; the flask of liquor was empty and barely a dram remained in her glass. _The Reattainment of Luminance_ was open on its last page; she had already finished it. He took it from her hand. The pages were still wet from her tears.




Curiouser and curiouser!  Who's the tempter now, _Ahma_?


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## Soramain

Sepulchrave II said:


> *Day 2 – Down*
> 
> When he arose, he saw that she was curled, asleep in a chair; the flask of liquor was empty and barely a dram remained in her glass. _The Reattainment of Luminance_ was open on its last page; she had already finished it. He took it from her hand. The pages were still wet from her tears.
> 
> Eadric sighed, covered her with the _robe of meteors_, and returned to his meditations.
> 
> 
> *




This passage is really beautifully written.


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## Solarious

I declare ourselves spoiled and rotten by Sep. We might go an entire year between updates, but suddenly he starts updating right through Christmas with all these juicy tidbits, and now nearly a month in, _it doesn't stop_. Thanks for all the entertainment through the years, 'cause I'm pretty sure most of us don't deserve it.

Can I ask where all the free time to write this came from? You all right over there on the other side of the screen?


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## carborundum

I most wholeheartedly concur, Solarius. This ... plethora of updates has made made the tribulations of the last month or so much more bearable. And that they just keep coming - bjusterbaerlik! ;-)


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## grodog

"You must spread some Experience Points around before giving it to Sepulchrave II again."

Great work, as always Sep---the poetry of the last two posts was great (and I got images of Borges, Eco, and Escher going through my head simultaneously:  very nice work, that!  ).


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## Zelda Themelin

Thank you for sharing the story. It still grips me after all these years and long pauses.


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## Sepulchrave II

*Day 3 – Rest*


[Mulissu]: You should be working.

[Mostin]: I am taking a break; my head is full of iterated functions and I cannot concentrate.

[Mulissu]: You are looking at motes, Mostin. That hardly qualifies as relaxation.

[Mostin]: It is for me. Look [here] and [here] and [here].

[Mulissu]: You will need to decipher for me. My Motish is rusty.

[Mostin]: There are two sets of exclusory paradoxes relating to Eadric.

[Mulissu]: This [here] is Shomei?

[Mostin]: Yes. Notice that all sixteen remaining infernal seraphs are now bound to her mote; sixty other once-episemes; almost a thousand exemplars. No force of this power has ever before been assembled by a mage; nor yet a cabal. Nor one of this concentration even _deployed_ since the Fall – if then.

[Mulissu] (Impressed): How?

[Mostin]: I should mention that this is three days hence, not _now_. Regardless, her valent capacity for conjurations is prodigious.

[Mulissu]: Her mote is in tight resonance with Eadric.

[Mostin]: Their dance is subtle, and many layered; there are elements which are antagonistic, amative, paternal, mutually didactic, dominating, religious and companionable. The relationship is complex.

[Mulissu]: _All_ relationship is complex, Mostin; that is why sensible wizards avoid it. I assume that this dark, brooding bomb-beneath-a-blanket is Soneillon? There is a field of blackness behind her.

[Mostin]: That is the Shadow of Cheshne. And this hungry node of void is Carasch.

[Mulissu]: Demonstrate your paradoxes.

Mostin stabilized the resonance between Shomei and the _Ahma_, and progressed the _Web of Motes_ accordingly; the numerous devil-motes in her vicinity began to flicker and slowly fade.

[Mulissu]: That would seem to be…

[Mostin]: Wait.

The darkness behind Soneillon’s mote seemed to crystallize through it; hundreds of motes began to vanish. A tide which swept through the _Web_ extinguishing everything. Only one mote – that of Nehael – remained.

[Mulissu]: That future would be best avoided.

[Mostin]: Here is another.

Shomei’s mote was transfixed. The darkness receded, but the devil-motes began to disperse and recombine, forming new resonances and extending outwards in a net which permeated the entire _Web_. Tension increased, until motes began to crash into one another.

[Mostin]: That was a hypothetical war, fought between Yeqon and his devilish _saizhan_-advocates, and the Antagonist Armaros; both of these infernal seraphim are currently beneath Shomei’s thumb. If I _bind_ her, they will factionalize and attempt to assert themselves as soon as their compacts come to term.

[Mulissu]: Reverse the _Web_. Do not allow the compacts to expire, and assume only a brief _binding_ of Shomei.

He did. Shomei’s mote erupted, and drove toward Soneillon; those of the fallen episemes detonated spectacularly around her. Futures began to bifurcate rapidly; Mostin held Shomei to a tight course, and Soneillon’s mote vanished, and then reappeared. Shomei acquired new intensity and plunged immediately toward an energetic mote of deep jade, impacting it and shattering it.

[Mostin]: This is a typical catenary. If she can gain the _Urn_, her mastery of Hummaz is all but guaranteed, and she knows it. Her Fire is only half-actualized at present; if she can further unlock the _Antinomos_, Shomei will be unstoppable. 

[Mulissu]: Before or after Hummaz?

[Mostin]: _Before_, with the help of the _Urn_. 

[Mulissu]: And what is [_this?_]

[Mostin]: It is an anomalous catenary.

[Mulissu]: Progress it.

[Mostin]: [Here]. It does not lead anywhere. It is inert.

[Mulissu]: Progress it further.

Resolution. Shomei’s mote pulsed, and expanded. It shone steadily: an isolated monad, around which a bright corona formed. It regarded those in her vicinity benignly. 

[Mulissu]: What is it?

[Mostin]: _Perfection_. A complete integration of her Flame.

It did not move, but the significator for Hummaz – seemingly magnetized – migrated and was drawn into orbit around Shomei’s lambency; its revolutions slowly deteriorated until it was silently absorbed. 

Motes exploded in a million directions as thought and color surged toward Mostin, shattering his inner vision and challenging the foundation of his prescience. A vibration of utter, draconic, profundity.

[Mulissu]: Mostin?

…

[Mulissu]: Mostin…?

[Mostin] (Wrily): That was the Aeon. It just reminded me that it knows I am looking.


**


Ortwine collapsed onto the ground. She was covered in blood and guts. Nwm looked at her approvingly.

“You have done good work, Ortwine,” the Preceptor nodded. “How many times did you die?”

“Only twice,” Ortwine grunted. “I feel I did well; my instinct for self-preservation must be better honed than that of Teppu. _Narh_ died nine times; he doesn’t seem to care: he just _keeps going_. Nehael turns animals into suicidal fanatics, although I think that he may be like that normally.”

“And you?”

Ortwine nodded. “Her presence is exhilarating; it cannot be denied.”

“If the fear of death is removed, it is remarkable what can be accomplished.”

“Empty words, Nwm,” Ortwine shook her head. “The fear of _pain_ remains. And Nwm, for pity’s sake: I am a queen and a goddess. Can we have no better accommodations than this wet earth?”

“If you wish for something more comfortable, you will need to find a wizard.”

“It does not have to be _lavish_, Nwm. Just _something_.”

Nwm gestured, and wood flew together to form a small, crude hut, open on one side which faced the fire.

“Bed?” Ortwine asked.

Nwm shook his head.

“Moss?” Ortwine asked.

Nwm nodded. A cradle of soft moss grew within the shelter.

“Adequate,” Ortwine crawled into it. “And where _are_ the wizards? Where is Mostin? And I thought the Academy were supposed to be more _invested_ in events now?”

“Shomei’s actions have them in a fluster,” Nwm replied. “They are fragmented and nervous. Mostin is preoccupied with his work.”

“What _work_?”

“I believe a conjuration of some kind,” Nwm smiled.

“Another terrible beast?”

“Doubtless,” Nwm nodded. 

“And your own preparations for defense?” Ortwine asked. “Have you accomplished anything _worthy_?”

“That remains to be tested,” Nwm sighed. “We are stacking spells as fast as we can – which is slowly – but, frankly, everyone is empty. And if the Fourth Effluxion can bring all of the remaining Cheshnite ritual power to bear, she will likely smash the net like so many eggshells.”

“If?” Ortwine inquired.

“She may not be _predisposed_ toward ritual magic. One of the other immortals may need to take the lead in directing the cabals against our countermagicks; this would work in our favor. If she can focus them through herself, her assault will be powerful.”

“You cannot determine which?”

Nwm shook his head. “Her obfuscations are difficult to pierce; she seems opaque to most divinations, and only so much energy can be directed to trying to penetrate them.”

Ortwine groaned. “My suspicions are not good, Nwm. Still, I suppose a spell which counters a spell, is one less spell which burns a swathe of people.”

“That is my philosophy also,” Nwm nodded.

“She burns very hot, Nwm.”

“You encountered her then?”

“Twice,” Ortwine nodded. She fell asleep.


**


Shomei struggled with difficulty to regain consciousness, and stared across the room from beneath her robe. Narcoma still clung to her.

“Thank-you for not snapping my neck, _Ahma_,” she remarked sleepily. “I was not sure if your word was binding, if offered to fiends.”

“It is not,” Eadric was laconic. He approached her and regarded her.

She seemed tiny. He knew that she was still vulnerable: her reservoir was depleted; almost all of her valences unoccupied. She had allowed her most potent wards to expire, for the purpose of more conjurations. He wondered how many _superior planar bindings_ she was capable of in the course of a day, now that her Fire had ignited.

“Technically, one hundred and thirty-three,” she replied lazily and unexpectedly to the unasked question. “Although even I am not so dedicated. And I did not realize that my valent condition was so apparent to you.”

“Your thoughts are undisciplined when you drink too much _kasshiv_,” he observed. “And your mind makes connection without your volition.”

She briefly lifted her head. “I do believe that your pronunciation of that word is an affectation, _Ahma_. Speaking of; do you mind…?” She pointed at the cabinet where the _kschiff_ was kept.

“I merely emphasize its proper ritual purpose.” He retrieved another flask and filled her glass to the brim. “Which you might remember, from time to time.”

Shomei drank deeply, smiled, replaced her glass, and shifted her position. “There are no dreams here, _Ahma_. Its effects are purely soporific. We all need a little oblivion, now and then; something I’m sure you can appreciate.”

“How was your book?” He asked.

“Complicated.” She furrowed her brow. 

“It seemed to evoke an emotional response,” Eadric remarked.

“Yes, _Ahma_; I am capable of them.”

“Can you readily communicate its contents? Even in the broadest terms?”

“It would be difficult,” she sighed, closing her eyes again. “It would require that you are familiar with a sevenfold hermeneutic; unfortunately, the Infernal Septiga takes some time to master.”

“I feel you are being evasive, Shomei.”

“Yes, _Ahma_,” she yawned. 

“Should I assume that some personal article was touched?”

“I don’t know, _Ahma_.” She raised an eyebrow with effort. “Would you care to talk about the totality of your experience with Soneillon?”

“I am not sure that that would be appropriate.”

“Because it is deeply intimate, or because you feel it would leave you open to subsequent manipulation?” She asked drowsily.

“Point taken,” he replied.

“Perhaps I will speak again later; when my guard is not so low, and I have had time to consider.”

“That seems only reasonable,” he conceded.

“And then, so can you,” she mumbled and smiled.

“Unfortunately, that seems equally reasonable.”

“I am sorry for your confinement, _Ahma_. And I have been rude; given no thought to your need for space. I will do something…” Her cogency was beginning to leave her.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied drily

“And thank-you again for not _killing_ me, _Ahma_,” she muttered.

“I thought about it,” Eadric sighed.

“I know.” She reached up, fumbled, and patted his hand.

Shomei returned to sleep.

Eadric shook his head and opened the cabinet where his host-cum-gaoler kept a plentiful supply of _kschiff_ and other beverages. He sniffed a number of them – some seemed even more dubious than Shomei’s drink of preference – before settling upon a bottle of Bedeshi brandy. 

He put his feet up and sat for a long while by the fire, considering his circumstances. Shomei’s choice to allow herself to be vulnerable – because there was little doubt that every action committed by Shomei was one of willful _choice_ – spoke of complexities which compromised him, and with which he felt ill-equipped to engage. He did not suspect any calculated program of seduction, although there was an inevitable sympathy which arose through knowledge and revelation of the other; she had made herself transparent to him, and trusted him. Her _I_, to him, had become a _Thou_. He felt warmth – even gratitude – despite her actions, and an odd feeling of protectiveness; as though she were something altogether precious: he knew that she should be _cherished_.

_Really, I have always preferred fiends_, he thought. They were just more _interesting_.

His mind drifted; he was oblivious to events in the world outside, and wondered what transpired at Deorham, in Morne, at Galda. He pondered, at length, about Soneillon: only days had passed since he had left her; it felt like months. Her reaction to his predicament concerned him.

Eventually – having consumed half of the bottle – a deep, dreamless sleep claimed him.

*

When he awoke, Shomei was already gone. Eadric stood and looked at the wall: a heavy timber door had appeared, where none had been before. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion: what lay beyond was, no doubt, for him – Shomei had indicated as much, and apparently, she recalled vague commitments made in even the most inebriated state. He slowly opened the door, expecting some vast, opulent suite of rooms bedecked with furs and exotic fabrics.

Instead, he found four small, modestly-furnished but well-lit stone chambers – not _too_ austere, he noted – and a space which might be a shrine or meditation room, were he to make it so.

Still, a prison was a prison. He sighed.

A book sat upon a table. He read its pristine cover – embossed in contemporary Wyrish – and laughed despite himself:

_Infernal Hermeneutics – An Introduction_


*


----------



## Bloodcookie

> "...Mostin is preoccupied with his work.”
> 
> “What work?”
> 
> “I believe a conjuration of some kind,” Nwm smiled.
> 
> “Another terrible beast?”
> 
> “Doubtless,” Nwm nodded.




Indeed. Ha!
Also, I wonder if Eadric isn't beginning to succumb to Stockholm syndrome. Not that I'd blame him.


----------



## Cheiromancer

> Infernal Hermeneutics – An Introduction




Ooh! I want excerpts. Or, better yet, a link to an e-book. 



> “How many times did you die?”
> 
> “Only twice,” Ortwine grunted.
> 
> ...
> 
> [the Fourth Effluxion]
> 
> “You encountered her then?”
> 
> “Twice,” Ortwine nodded.




Just noticed this "coincidence"


----------



## grodog

Cheiromancer said:


> Ooh! I want excerpts. Or, better yet, a link to an e-book.




I'll second that!


----------



## Knightfall

Another fascinating update, Sep. Keep 'em coming.



Cheiromancer said:


> Ooh! I want excerpts. Or, better yet, a link to an e-book.



Sounds good to me. Not that I'd understand half of it. 



Cheiromancer said:


> Just noticed this "coincidence"



I noticed that too.

I wonder if dying and being resurrected could allow Ortwine to expand her portfolio...


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Day 4 – Intercession?*


“Although I am incarcerated, I still feel as though I should thank you for providing me with chambers,” Eadric said.

“Then you certainly should, _Ahma_.” Shomei sat with a look of intense concentration on her face. She was carving a block of Hazel-wood with a slender knife; chips and shavings gathered at the floor beneath her feet. Her hands were a blur, moving with uncanny speed and precision.

“You seem to have none of your own,” Eadric observed. “Yet you have a reputation for ostentation.”

“In quieter days, I have more time for relaxation,” she nodded.

“Then there is some place in the library set aside for you?”

“I make rooms here as I feel the need, _Ahma_. It is no great matter. A parlor, a drawing room, a hall or bedchamber.” The wood had begun to assume the form of a human-shaped figurine.

“You also sleep more in quieter days?”

“Yes. But I sleep by the fire, _Ahma_.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “Chambers for entertaining your devilish lovers, then.”

“Yes, _Ahma_.” She regarded him with amusement. “Do I detect a note of judgment in your voice?”

“I am hardly one to judge,” Eadric replied.

“Indeed, _Ahma_.” The wood in Shomei’s hand had become a recognizable female shape, with slender limbs.

“And mortals?” He inquired. “They hold no interest for you?”

She paused and raised an eyebrow. “This line of questioning is becoming personal, _Ahma_.”

“I apologize. I did not mean to embarrass you.”

“You will not. Mortals are frail, and lack stamina, _Ahma._”

“Then devils are…adequate to your needs? You have not sought to look beyond the Infernal?”

“Only once, _Ahma_.” Shomei blew hard upon the carving, and dust flew from it. She wiped it in her robe, and smiled. “I was declined, if you recall. But adequate? – yes; devils might surprise you with their tenderness, and are subtle and inventive in all matters.”

She presented a statuette to him. It was exquisite: a work far surpassing genius; its line and proportion were perfect. An _Eleos_ with her left hand raised aloft, bearing a star; a clod of earth, from which flowers sprang, was in her right.

“This is extraordinary,” he gaped. “Although, I admit, your choice of subject matter is perplexing. Why do you need an idol?” 

She shrugged. “Art is art, _Ahma_. And it is for _you_, not me. I do not require an external focus, but should you feel the need for an object of veneration, then you have one.”

He felt it; it made his hands tingle. “It is enchanted?”

“Of course, _Ahma_. It was carved by Shomei the Infernal from the wood of a Hazel scion. How could it not be?”

“Thank-you,” he nodded. He placed it gently upon the table.

“I should be about…”

“…your conjurations.” Eadric sighed. “Yes, I know. Shomei, is there nothing which I can say or do to dissuade you from this course of action?”

“I do not believe so, _Ahma_.” 

“I cannot beg, cajole, threaten or otherwise impress my frustration and unhappiness regarding your choices upon you?”

“No, _Ahma_.”

“Then my words have no meaning to you?”

“In this, they cannot,” she shook her head, and stood.

“Why not? I am the _Ahma_ in this matter no less than any other.”

“We have had this conversation already, _Ahma_.”

“Perhaps we should have it again.”

“Things were going well,” Shomei groaned. “Why do you bring me back here?”

“Because you need to be here, Shomei. _The Reattainment of Luminance_? What was it to you? What did you read?”

“Another time, _Ahma_.” She was becoming irritable; angry. Hellfire slowly began to crawl over her hands.

“No. Now. I want to hear it.” He held her wrist. His flesh burned; he ignored it.

“_Ahma_, do not force me to…”

“There is no external _force_ acting on you, Shomei. Only your own choice.”

“Please let go of my wrist, Eadric. You will hurt yourself.”

He nodded. “Now we’re getting somewhere…”

There was a knock at the door.

Her fire died abruptly; she extricated her hand. Eadric gave a puzzled look. “Were you expecting someone?”

Shomei sighed. “No. But there is only one person who can treat the Hazel’s cordon with impunity, _Ahma_.” She walked to the door and opened it. 

Nehael – or rather _a_ Nehael – stood there, her hands held behind her back. It was not a Nehael with whom the _Ahma_ was altogether familiar.

*

“Am I interrupting?” Nehael asked. 

“Yes,” Shomei answered. “We were having an argument.”

“May I come in?”

“_Yes_,” Eadric interjected before Shomei could speak.

“Hello, Eadric,” Nehael smiled. “Thank-you, but that choice is not yours to make.”

“Where are your weapons?” Shomei inquired. “Shouldn’t you be shooting ghouls or something?”

_Weapons?_ Eadric had the distinct notion that he was behind the times.

“I should still like to come in,” Nehael insisted.

“Shomei?” Eadric looked at her.

“Very well,” Shomei sighed, waving her in.

Nehael entered, and regarded the figurine of the _Eleos_. “You are no mean talent, Shomei.”

“You have something behind your back?” Eadric asked.

“This?” Nehael produced a sprig of Holly. Eadric’s hackles rose. “Yes; I found it nearby. It’s been growing there for a little while. Didn’t you know?”

“No.” Shomei scowled.

“It may be connected with the seven hundred fallen exemplars who are nearby,” Nehael suggested.

“_Seven hundred?_” Eadric asked in horror.

“Shomei works fast, Eadric.”

The Infernalist gave a nonchalant shrug.

“The Holly scion is not yet awake,” Nehael added. “But there again, Azazel is not here yet, either. I am surprised that you invoked me at this late stage.”

“I was not aware that I did,” Eadric sighed.

“Not you, Eadric.” Nehael picked up the statuette of the _Eleos_ and handed it to Shomei. “Devotional art made from a Hazel by the _Antinomos_ for the _Ahma_ is likely to gain my attention.” 

“You are not the _Eleos_,” Shomei observed.

“I was the nearest available avatar,” Nehael smiled. 

Shomei replaced the figurine on the table. “If you believe that a red dress and a bad attitude are likely to impress me, you can think again. You will divert me from my purpose no more effectively than the _Ahma_.”

“No, Shomei,” Nehael sighed. “That I will not. The choice is yours. It always is. May I speak briefly with Eadric?”

“Yes. He is right here.”

“Alone, Shomei?”

“But of course,” Shomei replied acidly, gesturing toward the timber door. “He has his own cell, now.”

“Thank-you.”

Eadric sat in stunned silence.

Shomei ushered them away, and poured _kschiff_.


**


“It is good to see you,” Nehael smiled. She had declined a chair, and sat on the floor in effortless _saizhan_. There was a dynamic quality about her that Eadric had not before encountered; she seemed entirely grounded and _embodied_. He recalled Soneillon’s words, and understood that, although spoken lightly, they had not been altogether in jest.

“I am bewildered, Nehael.” Eadric confessed.

“I have come to expect it,” Nehael nodded. 

“You sit in _saizhan_…”

“I am a syncretic deity, Eadric.” 

“Your posture is better than mine,” he added.

“Things are moving rapidly, _Ahma_. You need to resolve this situation as quickly as possible and return to Galda.”

“I have been trying.”

“Where are you in your dialogue with Shomei?”

Eadric sighed. “I do not know. I cannot fathom her. She is complex.”

Nehael nodded. “She is a _devil_, _Ahma_, and an _I_. Prior to that, she was the most gifted mage of her generation – perhaps of _any_ generation. _Complex_ does not even begin to cover her.”

Eadric sighed. “She chose to trust me: she left herself completely vulnerable to me; I might have slain her, and spared us all from what will likely ensue.”

“But you did not.”

“No.” Eadric said. “It would have been an act of violation against Truth. She is utterly authentic.”

“Nor yet did you marry her,” Nehael smiled wrily.

“I did not know her as I have come to.”

“Then you _regret_ your decision?” Nehael asked with raised eyebrows.

“No. I regret that not all opportunity can be realized. But I made a choice. I stand by it.”

“I am sure Soneillon will be pleased,” Nehael spoke in a droll voice. “Or at least, not wrathful and vindictive.”

“Self-preservation also informs my perspective,” Eadric admitted.

“And Nehael?” She inquired. “Where do you stand with regard to _her_? To _me_?”

“That relationship is different.”

“Why?” She asked. “Am I not desirable?”

Eadric looked at her and groaned. “Yes.”

“You somehow believe me less _lustful_?”

“Well…”

“Would you deem me less _unattainable_ than previously?”

His head reeled. “Yes?”

“Do not worry, Eadric.” She laughed. “I am not _pressing a claim_ upon the highly-coveted _Ahma_.”

“That is a relief,” he sighed.

“But then again, I wouldn’t, would I?”

“No…?” He said unsurely.

“I am Compassion, _Ahma_. Possessiveness is not in my nature. _Saizha?_”

*

“Are you quite finished?” Shomei asked irritably.

[Nehael]: This is what we exchanged [information].

Eadric stared at Nehael in disbelief. Shomei raised an eyebrow and analyzed.

“You need not look _betrayed_, Eadric,” Nehael sighed. “I do not _hide_ anything for the purpose of manipulation, and neither should you. And it was Shomei who invoked me, not you. I will see myself out.”

Nehael departed.

“Perhaps celibacy is best,” Eadric sat wearily.

Shomei handed him a glass of _kschiff_. “You would not be the first mystic to come to this conclusion, _Ahma_.” 

“What next?” He asked.

“Well,” Shomei smiled. “First, I will have a drink. And then I will return…”

“…to your conjurations. Yes. I suppose I should know the drill by now. Shomei, as I didn’t kill you, I feel that you might indulge me. I should like some diabolic _company_ in your absence.”

Shomei looked sceptical. “Very well, _Ahma_. But I should warn you that devilish courtesans can be difficult. Lagusuf might serve; her skin is…”

“_Intellectual_ company, Shomei.”

“Very good, _Ahma_.” She considered briefly.

A _gate_ opened, and a tall, strikingly beautiful female devil with violet eyes emerged. She was  clad in white; her hair was arranged in an elaborate coiffure. 

“Shomei…”

“This is _Nercamay_, _Ahma_. An infernal muse. You need not be distracted by her full lips and rapid, shallow breath. Nor her heady perfume and natural tactility. She is both _intellectual_ and _company_: she is a scholar of some renown; her mind is exquisitely perverse and convoluted.”

“As is yours,” Eadric said.

“Thank-you, _Ahma_. Nercamay, you may attend to the _Ahma_’s needs: perhaps it might be best if you made no attempt to seduce him; it may cause him undue distress. Did you have some topic in mind to discuss?”

“Actually, yes,” Eadric reached for the _The Reattainment of Luminance_. “You will give me lessons in diabolic heresies, won’t you Nercamay?”

Shomei sighed. The _Ahma_ was nothing, if not persistent. She exited the cottage.

*

Nercamay smiled gently, sat next to Eadric, and opened the book in her lap. She smelled of jasmine and orchids.

“How familiar are you with the sevenfold hermeneutic?” She asked in a soft voice. Her hand immediately began to wander. Eadric replaced it.

“Very little,” Eadric admitted.

“It’s very warm in here, _Ahma_…”

“You are a devil; I am sure you will cope.”

“Are your chambers cooler?”

“Just read,” Eadric said through gritted teeth.


**


----------



## Knightfall

Just read... heh.


----------



## Bloodcookie

> “Perhaps celibacy is best,” Eadric sat wearily.




Poor Eadric. For all the complications that arise when religion intrudes in romance, I can only imagine that forming romantic relationships with actual figures of veneration must be exponentially more problematic...


----------



## grodog

Hilarious!


----------



## Siuis

I am finding that Shomei has always been an exquisite thing in and of herself. Of all those who walk this particular stage, she alone has aleays struck me as somehow utterly _selfless_ in her actions. Often what transpires is in her favor but it somehow unfolds that way as though it were natural, and that it being part of her desired end is because she desires those events which should naturally unfold.

My enjoyment of her as a character and as a person has grown since irst she brought an infernal magnate to tempt Mostin at his party. I am sorely wishing Eadric could slow her down and divert her course somewhat, but I have to respect that she stays the course as she does.

Astounding. I actually think my ability to process this kind of understanding has grown since, and because, I picked up this story hour those long years back. Neat!


----------



## Inez Hull

I can't recall a extended period of this level of intensity of posting ever before in the whole time the story hour has been going. It's truly wonderful, as if a _cacade _of posts has been initiated. I wonder if Eadric may just end up with Nehael in the end somehow.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Random mechanical:

[sblock]A more modest beastie.

Fallen exemplars form the mainstay of Shomei’s conjured minions: they are disciplined, dauntless and also appeal to her particular aesthetic. They are the “recently-fallen” – those who were enmeshed by the Holly and Hazel-_ludjas_ during the Migration of Light into the Green. They gain the Native and Evil subtypes but remain celestials (although they are also devils). Devilish status grants them immunity to fire; of the standard energy types, dark movanics are only vulnerable to sonics.

Dark movanics might be regarded as the choristers in the Dark Choir, with more heavyweight episemes and fallen seraphs assuming the role of soloists. They do not advance further by HD; for a movanic, 20HD is usually the upper limit. Unlike unfallen celestials, however, they may advance by character class; fiendish status grants the possibility of individuation. On balance, they "break the rule" that a fallen celestial can never exceed its former heavenly power; but that rule belongs to the previous Aeon.

The dark movanic exemplars are statuesque (around 6½ feet high, and weighing 250lbs) with greenish-black skin, and speak Celestial, Draconic, Infernal, Abyssal and Sylvan. They typically use _tongues_ to communicate with mortals.


*Dark Movanic Exemplar*
Medium Outsider (Celestial, Evil, Lawful, Native)

*Hit Dice:* 20d8+200 (290 hp)
*Initiative:* +9
*Speed:* 40 ft. (8 squares), fly 100 ft. (perfect)
*Armor Class:* 44 (+7 Dex, +10 armor, +7 shield, +10 natural), touch 19, flat-footed 37
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +20/+29
*Attack:* +35 melee (1d8+15/18-20 plus 1d6 fire, _+5 cold iron flaming longsword_) 
*Full Attack:* +35/+30/+25/+20 melee (1d8+15/18-20 plus 1d6 fire, _+5 cold iron flaming longsword_)
*Space/Reach:* 5 ft./5 ft.
*Special Attacks:* Spell-like abilities
*Special Qualities:* Damage reduction 10/-, darkvision 60 ft., death ward, deflection, immunities (acid, cold, disease, electricity, fire, petrification, poison and sleep effects), linked minds, low-light vision, planar travel, spell resistance 32, tongues, whispering wind
*Saves:* Fort +24, Ref +21, Will +21
*Abilities:* Str 29, Dex 25, Con 31, Int 21, Wis 25, Cha 25
*Skills:* Bluff +30, Concentration +33, Diplomacy +30, Disguise +30 (+32 acting), Escape Artist +30, Hide +30, Knowledge (any two) +28, Listen +30, Move Silently +30, Search +36, Sense Motive +30, Spot +38, Survival +30
*Feats:* Combat Reflexes, Great Fortitude, Improved Critical (longsword), Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Lightning Reflexes, Weapon Focus (longsword)
*Environment:* Dark Verdancies
*Organization:* Solitary, pair, or flight (3-6)
*Challenge Rating:* 19
*Treasure:* None plus _+5 cold iron flaming longsword, +5 mithral breastplate, +5 mithral heavy shield _
*Alignment:* Always lawful evil
*Advancement:* By character class

*Change Shape (Su): *A dark movanic exemplar can assume the shape of any small or medium humanoid. It gains a +10 circumstance bonus on any Disguise checks it makes when using this ability.
*Death Ward (Ex):* Dark movanic exemplars are immune to death effects and negative energy effects such as energy drain.
*Deflection (Su): *A dark movanic exemplar can bat away spells or targeted effects. If the deva is targeted by a a ray or a single-target spell (such as magic missile) it can attempt a Reflex save (DC 20 + the spell’s level). If it succeeds at the Reflex save, the spell is deflected. A deflected spell is simply negated as if counterspelled. This ability is usable once per round as a free action and the deva must be aware of the attack in order to deflect it.
*Elemental Immunities (Ex): *Dark movanic exemplars are immune to acid, electricity, fire and cold.
*Planar Travel (Su): *As a standard action a dark movanic exemplar may use this ability to move between any Green Plane and the Region of Dreams. Treat this ability as a _plane shift_ spell as cast by a sorcerer of a level equal to the celestial’s hit dice, except that the dark movanic can only transport itself and its equipment.
*Linked Minds (Su): *A dark movanic is in continual telepathic communion with any other celestials within 300 ft., and never need use verbal communication with another celestial within range. Groups of 3 or more are never surprised.
*Protective Aura (Su): *Against attacks made or effects created by chaotic creatures, this ability provides a +4 deflection bonus to AC and a +4 resistance bonus on saving throws to anyone within 20 feet of the dark movanic exemplar. Otherwise, it functions as a magic circle against chaos effect and a lesser globe of invulnerability, both with a radius of 20 feet (caster level equals dark movanic’s HD). This aura can be dispelled, but the dark movanic can create it again as a free action on its next turn. (The defensive benefits from the circle are not included in the dark movanic exemplar's statistics block.).
*Spell-Like Abilities:* At will – _aid, bestow curse _(DC21), _continual flame, detect chaos, discern lies _(DC21), _greater dispel magic, invisibility_ (self only); 1/day – _dictum_ (DC24), _dispel chaos _(DC 22), _heal _(DC 23), _unholy blight _(DC 22), _spell turning_. Caster level 20th. The save DCs are Charisma-based.
*Tongues (Su):* This ability is always active (CL20th)
*Whispering Wind (Su): *A dark movanic exemplar can use this ability at will (Caster Level 20th).

*Skills:* Dark movanics gain a +8 racial bous to Spot and Search checks.

*Equipment:* Dark movanic exemplars typically bear a _+5 cold iron flaming longsword_, wear _+5 mithral breastplate _and carry a _+5 mithral heavy shield_.

[/sblock]


----------



## Bloodcookie

Something that just struck me today: the current predicament has interesting parallels with the 'Judgment of Paris' in Greek myth, with Paris (Eadric) made to decide which of three goddesses will claim the Golden Apple (the Urn). Depending on how far the analogy extends, this could imply a certain threatening capriciousness on the part of Pharamne (Eris)... but I'm probably pushing the argument beyond all reason


----------



## Soramain

Bloodcookie said:


> Something that just struck me today: the current predicament has interesting parallels with the 'Judgment of Paris' in Greek myth, with Paris (Eadric) made to decide which of three goddesses will claim the Golden Apple (the Urn). Depending on how far the analogy extends, this could imply a certain threatening capriciousness on the part of Pharamne (Eris)... but I'm probably pushing the argument beyond all reason




What an interesting analysis.  Someone XP Bloodcookie for me?


----------



## Quartz

Nice one! Mostin also wants the Urn. If Eadric were to come into possession of it, could he use it himself? Could the _Sela_? Could he sort out the whole mess by giving it to Oronthon? Or would that make things much worse?

As far as his romantic entanglements go, I think celibacy may indeed be the best bet, perhaps with Nehael as an occasional liaison - the mating of Sky and Earth and all that - as the other two (particularly Soneillon) would be insanely jealous with him choosing someone else.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Perhaps, but I believe Shomei would act on such jealously more ... profoundly and deadly. Demoness would use it as an advantage to make paladin hers more. Or join. I know not the mind of likes of her.


----------



## grodog

Ahem:  http://www.enworld.org/forum/story-hour/130712-pharamnes-urn-updated-1-20-12-a-76.html#post5750421


----------



## Soramain

grodog said:


> Ahem:  http://www.enworld.org/forum/story-hour/130712-pharamnes-urn-updated-1-20-12-a-76.html#post5750421




I missed that the first time - good catch.  Still Bloodcookie added value with his suggestion that Pharamne has a capricious interest in the outcome, I think.  

Kudos, though.


----------



## grodog

Soramain said:


> I missed that the first time - good catch.  Still Bloodcookie added value with his suggestion that Pharamne has a capricious interest in the outcome, I think.[




Yes, I noticed that, but then had a moment of cognitive dissonance earlier:  has Pharamne shown his/her/its hand in the story to date beyond the presence of the ubiquitous Urn? (and if so, then I've missed it!).


----------



## Soramain

grodog said:


> Yes, I noticed that, but then had a moment of cognitive dissonance earlier:  has Pharamne shown his/her/its hand in the story to date beyond the presence of the ubiquitous Urn? (and if so, then I've missed it!).




Arguably here:



Sepulchrave II said:


> *Day 3 – Rest*
> 
> 
> [Mostin]: _Perfection_. A complete integration of her Flame.
> 
> It did not move, but the significator for Hummaz – seemingly magnetized – migrated and was drawn into orbit around Shomei’s lambency; its revolutions slowly deteriorated until it was silently absorbed.
> 
> Motes exploded in a million directions as thought and color surged toward Mostin, shattering his inner vision and challenging the foundation of his prescience. A vibration of utter, draconic, profundity.
> 
> [Mulissu]: Mostin?
> 
> …
> 
> [Mulissu]: Mostin…?
> 
> [Mostin] (Wrily): That was the Aeon. It just reminded me that it knows I am looking.




But I probably just have my godlike entities mixed up somehow.


----------



## Cheiromancer

No, you aren't mixed up, Soramain. Pharamne is the Aeon. And the Aeon is a dragon. With, iirc, 20 divine ranks.

I am not sure what the mythic resonances of dragons are. If they have anything to do with Scorpio (as does the eagle, the phoenix and the scorpion) then those affinities are likely to show up in the course of the story.


----------



## grodog

Soramain said:


> Arguably here:
> But I probably just have my godlike entities mixed up somehow.






Cheiromancer said:


> No, you aren't mixed up, Soramain. Pharamne is the Aeon. And the Aeon is a dragon. With, iirc, 20 divine ranks.




Aha!  Thanks guys.  I had noticed that before, but not made the connection between the Aeon as a looming event and Phaaramne's as a named creature/entity/god/whatever.


----------



## Cheiromancer

The Judgment of Paris has a straightforward explanation, hinging on the correspondences of the three goddesses he was asked to choose between. Aphrodite is romantic love, Hera is the matrimonial bond, and Athena is common sense (wisdom) and war. In running off with Helen, Paris foolishly put romantic love ahead of respect for marriage, and provoked a war. That's the mythic logic of the Judgment of Paris.

Here's a stab at explaining Eadric's choice in a similar manner. Whether it was foolish or not, it seems that Eadric has already chosen Soneillon. She's the only one of the three with whom he has consummated a union, and she is the one who actually has the Urn. Although Soneillon does not want to end the world, she is a sort of avatar of Chesne, and so Chesne has a foothold in the world because of the favor shone to her.

Nehael, on the other hand, was chosen by Nwm; her conversion was not to Oronthonism, but to Uediism. I still wonder about that, sometimes. Eadric could not have cast atonement himself, but his brother probably could have. Nwm's intervention broadened the paradigm behind the Oronthon/Adversary duality. It more than anything meant the end of the old Aeon.

So that's Soneillon and Nehael. I think the third option was taken by Ortwin(e). Not that (s)he and Shomei had anything to do with each other, but the third choice is the *I* - self-empowerment and self-transcendence. That is the road that Ortwin(e) took/takes. I'm not really sure that this was a real option for Eadric; maybe if the temptation of Titivilus had borne fruit?

Mostin is not really part of this analysis, but note that he has had his share of choices too. He didn't have to be present at the binding of the Enforcer; he chose to be. He could probably have made the choice to seal the gates in Graz'zt's realm (keeping the chthonics safely bottled up) but he gave priority to more pressing matters. He could have given Graz'zt to Soneillon instead of banishing her, but he decided that "Pilgrimage" was a better option. And so on.

One recurrent feature of the story is that even though there are forces in play immensely more powerful than the player characters, the PC's actions have immense significance and resonance. The campaign world is remade according to the mythic logic of their actions.


----------



## Soramain

Cheiromancer said:


> Here's a stab at explaining Eadric's choice in a similar manner. Whether it was foolish or not, it seems that Eadric has already chosen Soneillon. She's the only one of the three with whom he has consummated a union




...is that right?  It seems like it was implied that he consummated his relationship with Nehael in the last update - thus his horror at Nehael conveying the totality of their shared experience to Shomei.  Certainly, by choosing to exercise compassion and to advocate for compassion, he has empowered (deified?) Nehael.

The seduction:


> “And Nehael?” She inquired. “Where do you stand with regard to her? To me?”
> 
> “That relationship is different.”
> 
> “Why?” She asked. “Am I not desirable?”
> 
> Eadric looked at her and groaned. “Yes.”
> 
> “You somehow believe me less lustful?”
> 
> “Well…”
> 
> “Would you deem me less unattainable than previously?”
> 
> His head reeled. “Yes?”
> 
> “Do not worry, Eadric.” She laughed. “I am not pressing a claim upon the highly-coveted Ahma.”
> 
> “That is a relief,” he sighed.
> 
> “But then again, I wouldn’t, would I?”
> 
> “No…?” He said unsurely.
> 
> “I am Compassion, Ahma. Possessiveness is not in my nature. Saizha?”




..and the aftermath:



> “Are you quite finished?” Shomei asked irritably.
> 
> [Nehael]: This is what we exchanged [information].
> 
> Eadric stared at Nehael in disbelief. Shomei raised an eyebrow and analyzed.
> 
> “You need not look betrayed, Eadric,” Nehael sighed. “I do not hide anything for the purpose of manipulation, and neither should you. And it was Shomei who invoked me, not you. I will see myself out.”
> 
> Nehael departed.
> 
> “Perhaps celibacy is best,” Eadric sat wearily.




Still, your points about the paramount importance of player choices are good ones.  EDIT: By which I mean, it's something I strive to include in my own games, and I assume it is one of the things that keeps most of us coming back to this thread after .. what, a decade for some of you?


----------



## Cheiromancer

I am going by Ortwine's account from 12-24-2011 (sblocked below) She considers that Nehael, to Eadric, was unattainable. And thus unattained. Eadric's chagrin was at Nehael's revealing their conversation to Shomei. Eadric would not have spoken the way he did if Shomei were present, and he would have expected Nehael to have kept the conversation private. After all, she was the one who sought to have the conversation in private in the first place. I don't think they hooked up right after their conversation- do you?

[sblock]“Eadric’s problem,” Ortwine opined, “is that he cannot relate to women. As a woman who was a man, I have a unique perspective in this regard.”

Nwm nodded. Ortwine had consumed an excess of infernal wine over the course of several days. The Faerie Queene had lost all of her inhibitions, and seemed the very model of one – or several – of her former selves.

“Allow me to continue,” Ortwine smiled. “Consider Despina – yes, that’s a name you haven’t heard for a while. He placed her on a pedestal; notions of courtly love – fine amour – and all that chivalric bullsh*t. Unreachable; unattainable. Unrequited love. ”

Nwm nodded. He had consumed no small quantity himself, relaxing his normal guard against inebriation. It was, after all, the winter Tagamuos.

“When she disappoints him,” Ortwine continued, “he demonizes her – let’s dub this phase Nehael I. Nehael I is the realization that she is bad, but may be trying to be good. Are we in accord?”

Nwm nodded.

“You intercede,” Ortwine smiled. “Good job – at least, I think. Nehael is removed from the humdrum divide between Heaven and Hell, and becomes Nehael II. Did they get it on, I wonder?”

“You can ask him when he gets back,” Nwm interrupted. “If he ever gets back.”

“’I don’t think so,’ is the answer.” Ortwine sighed. “Nehael II is abducted – unattainable again, you see?”

Nwm nodded.

“He broods, and encounters Soneillon – let’s call her Soneillon I. Sound good?”

“Aren’t there prior iterations?’

“Just think like Eadric,” Ortwine replied. “Soneillon I is one hundred per cent wicked and naughty – he likes that. But he can’t be that. Is that a fair assertion?”

“I must concur,” Nwm nodded.

“Simultaneously, he develops an ‘intellectual’ cameraderie with Shomei – Shomei II, I suppose, after you reincarnated her. Now, let’s be honest, Nwm. When has Eadric developed an intellectual anything?”

“He’s not stupid,” Nwm objected.

“No. But he’s pretty green – especially when it comes to women. Anyway, Soneillon I dies – or whatever she does. Shomei II is lost. What does he do?”

“He wages war?”

“Precisely,” Ortwine smiled. “Except he’s encountered Nehael again, and now he deifies her. Nehael III. Note that he still can’t have her.”

“And Shomei?”

“When she reappears, she will be inserted into the conveniently vacant role of Adversary,” Ortwine touched her nose. “Shomei III. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Mostin invokes Soneillon – Soneillon II – from wherever she wasn’t – in order to fuel his magic, and then sends her hurtling into delirium. She quickly becomes Soneillon III and then Soneillon IV in short order – the crazed, Urn-bearing Soneillon whom Eadric is now brutalizing in some awful rite. By now, Nehael has also become Nehael IV – I assume you felt what happened the other night? At this point, she is utterly beyond reach.”

“Where is this leading, Ortwine?”

“You seem to forget, I am a goddess, Nwm – Ortwine IVa – and I have a perspective you cannot. The energy isn’t flowing in the direction that Eadric, or Nehael, or Shomei – or Soneillon, for that matter – expected. In fact, maybe she is now Soneillon V. Because Cheshne is waking. She no longer dreams.”

Nwm stared at her.

“Don’t worry; it’s not as bad as you think. But my original assertion about Eadric and women stands. All of which brings me to the real question,” Ortwine raised an eyebrow. “What do we know about Eadric’s mother?”

“Not much,” Nwm perked up. “But now I think we might be getting somewhere.”[/sblock]

A decade... Yes! Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of this...



			
				sepulchrave said:
			
		

> Lady Despina's Virtue
> I originally posted this on the old messageboards - not realizing that they were going to be frozen quite as abruptly as they were. It's still messy, and hasn't been organized properly.
> 
> The first post was posed as a question on the general forum some time back in November and, unexpectedly, aroused a lot of interest. There was a follow-up post and, finally, a third post to explain the ongoing situation. I've also added the fourth (as yet, unposted) post at the end.
> 
> The saga still continues, although I am way behind in writing up my notes on it and there is a LOT to reproduce. I will post as often as possible to the story thread if interest is sustained: my main gauge on whether to continue will be the number in the "viewed" column - I realise that written feedback in story hour tends to be a little thin.
> 
> ...




Happy Belated Anniversary!


----------



## carborundum

Yes, and Happy Page Eighty-foursary


----------



## Erevanden

I'll drink to that !! (some tea or diet soda, but nonetheless I shall !!) 

Oh, I was thinking recently aobut the infernal hierarchy of the previous aeon and cannot find any good explanations for the nomenclature of various ranks or functions - Grand Inquisitor (eg. Erekia), Antagonist (eg. Armaros), Prosecutor (eg. Yeqon), Akesoli (and other groups listed in the old chart).

Maybe I am missing something from previous posts, maybe it was never explained, but if anyone knows, please do tell


----------



## Quartz

Cheiromancer said:


> Whether it was foolish or not, it seems that Eadric has already chosen Soneillon. She's the only one of the three with whom he has consummated a union,




Have they?


----------



## Bloodcookie

Quartz said:


> Have they?




Remember the chapel altar at Kyrtill's Burgh...


----------



## Soramain

Cheiromancer said:


> I am going by Ortwine's account from 12-24-2011 (sblocked below) She considers that Nehael, to Eadric, was unattainable. And thus unattained. Eadric's chagrin was at Nehael's revealing their conversation to Shomei. Eadric would not have spoken the way he did if Shomei were present, and he would have expected Nehael to have kept the conversation private. After all, she was the one who sought to have the conversation in private in the first place. I don't think they hooked up right after their conversation- do you?




I find your reasoning persuasive, but I'm still nagged by the first thing Eadric says when he's back with Shomei: "Perhaps celibacy is best."  

The other explanation for that statement is that he is ashamed at the way the conversation reveals his continuing sexual attraction for Nehael and what he revealed about his choices vis a vis Shomei.  

I thought Eadric was mostly beyond shame over his choices since he acknowledged (embraced?) the role of his liaisons in the fall of Orthodoxy.  (I'm sorry, despite a search I can't recall what this is called - the second something or other?)

EDIT: Found it.  







> "They are calling it the Third Turning of Saizhan."
> 
> "The Third?" A look of mild puzzlement crossed the face of the goddess. "Did I miss one?"
> 
> "Skôhsldaúr, the Gate of Demons," Eadric explained.




So Skôhsldaúr is the Second Turning of Saizhan.


----------



## carborundum

...base? ;-)


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Day 5 – Seeing*



Nercamay knelt. Eadric drew her knees apart – whilst carefully avoiding her gaze – held her breast-bone, and pressed in the hollow of her back, straightening it. 

“Good,” he exhaled. He stood, poured himself _kschiff_, and sat in a chair.

“I am not sure what this posture is designed to achieve, _Ahma_,” the devil looked at him. “It does not seem very practical for the purpose of pleasure. I know many others, which would serve better. Unless you simply require…”

Eadric held up his hand. “It will help you concentrate. And you being over there, and me being over here will help me concentrate. Look ahead, Nercamay, and slightly down. Not at me.”

She did so.

“Place your fingertips together, _thus_,” he demonstrated.

“I cannot see. I may now look at you?”

“You may _glance_.”

She sighed and followed his instructions.

“You need to slow your breathing, Nercamay.”

“I do not _need_ to breathe at all, _Ahma_.”

“Do so anyway,” Eadric instructed.

She complied.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Not entirely,” Nercamay admitted.

“Excellent,” Eadric smiled. “A little tension is good. Let us review what we have learned to date. First, that it is hard for me to remain focused if you _drape_ yourself over me. Second, that time is _limited_ for me, in terms of what I need to understand. Third, that distinguishing between the points of the Septiga is very _difficult_ for me, as the fields seem to overlap so much: the _poetic_ and the _functional_ I can grasp easily enough; the _enigmatic_ I can see in theory, if not in practice as I have no experience of Hellish mysteries; but discerning the subtleties between the _inflammatory, mephitic, vitiating, debasing_ and _perfidious_ may be beyond me.”

“That would make eight. The _mephitic_ is synonymous with the _debasing_, _Ahma_.”

“Precisely my point,” Eadric nodded.

“Although they are unidentical in the _Noniga_,” Nercamay added.

“One thing at a time, Nercamay. Now, you may continue your explication.”

“The text of _The Reattainment of Luminance_ is very abstruse, _Ahma_. I am not sure where to recommence.”

“Might it help if I were to make specific inquiries?” Eadric asked.

“I think it may be the only way to proceed,” Nercamay replied.

“Let us concentrate on the _functional_ at present; Shomei has asserted on numerous occasions that her inclination is more practical than mystical.”

“I am not sure that function and praxis can be conflated in that way, _Ahma_,” Nercamay opined.

“You are probably right,” Eadric nodded. “It is, however, where we will look.”

“And your purpose in this is the redemption of Shomei the Infernal?” Nercamay asked dubiously.

Eadric shook his head. “No. Shomei charts her own course. And devils do not need to be _redeemed_, Nercamay. They are already perfect, but are trapped in false perceptions. They simply need to _see._”

Time slowed to a crawl. Eadric experienced a _sensation_; neither entirely a flash, nor a vibration, nor an understanding; but something of each, and a certitude.

“I…” Nercamay stopped speaking; her expression relaxed, with a hint of mild puzzlement. Her breath became slow, purposeful, rhythmic. She cast her gaze around, and her eyes came to rest on him. She was serene; impassive. Eadric sat, and waited until he judged it had passed in her.

She began to shake. He stood, walked over to her, and knelt before her.

“That was _saizhan_,” he spoke gently.

She was bewildered. “You also…?”

“No.” Eadric smiled. “But you experienced that you and I are not different; so in a sense, yes.”

“Then this is not your natural mode of perception?”

“Arguably, it is _the_ natural mode of perception. But remaining there is…difficult,” Eadric said wrily, and shook his head. “The _Sela_ always abides in perfect _saizhan_; perhaps Nehael – I do not know. Memory of this experience may evoke powerful emotions in you. If you wish to reflect, we may end this discourse for a while. My chambers are available if you wish for privacy.”

“Would you like to…”

“No.” He said firmly. “And that temptation is now so much crueller, yet so much easier to resist.”

“I do not understand,” she sighed.

He smiled ironically. “Our relationship has changed, Nercamay. From this point, I have a _duty_ toward you, and a responsibility for your well-being.”

“I feel no less wicked, _Ahma_. Your sudden concern for me is vexing.”

He sighed. “Prior modes of perception do not vanish instantly, Nercamay. Consider whether this experience was of value to you; I would contend that it was, and that it is worth seeking to repeat it. Unless there is something more pressing, you should relax for a while.”

Nercamay considered. “_The Reattainment of Luminance_ is many things, _Ahma_. An argument and counter-argument; a technique or method; an entreaty; a prophecy; a _solution_.”

“Concerning what?” Eadric inquired.

“I believe that the book is about Shomei. About devils. About _saizhan_. About you.”

He swallowed.

“Do you _like_ fiends, _Ahma_?” Nercamay asked.

“Far too much,” Eadric sighed.

“You understand that I have done as Shomei bid me and have not, actually, attempted to seduce you?” She asked. “That my flirtations are meant in good humor?”

“Of course,” Eadric nodded. “I play the game well enough. I mean no disrespect Nercamay, but I have met some who would put you to shame. And consider _why_ you feel a sudden impulse to communicate the truth to me in such comprehensible terms, Nercamay; you may find that it is not unconnected with your insight.”


**


The wind was bitter; Soneillon stood on the Steeple and scowled. Carasch had alerted her to another interloper; this time, a solitary figure north of the town of Deorham, wearing a bright yellow cloak. Its form was in the region of fey; its gender, indeterminate; its progress, circuitous and unhurried.

_Tozinak,_ she knew. The wizard seemed completely unwarded, and apparently oblivious to the danger he was in. The demoness surmised that he must be under the Cherry’s spell, although what, exactly, that entailed was unknown to her. 

She invoked a potent protection, and appeared close to his location. He was crossing a bridge over a frozen stream, plodding knee-deep through the snow which had drifted there. Upon spying her, he smiled and waved, and hurried toward her position.

Soneillon held up a hand. “Wait right there. What are you doing here, Tozinak? You’ve just decided to _deliver_ the spell to me? Color me suspicious, but I smell cherries.”

Tozinak nodded enthusiastically. He held up a bunch of ripe, luscious fruit.

“Is there no artifice to you at all?” Soneillon asked in an exasperated voice. “You desperately need lessons in deceit and guile.”

“None. I _love_ you, Soneillon.”

Soneillon sighed.

“Here,” Tozinak withdrew a thin plaque from within his robe, and placed it upon the snow. He set the cherries upon it.

She swallowed; there must be some hidden trap. “Would you mind withdrawing a little way, Tozinak. I am feeling shy.”

“Of course, my love.” He moved back ten yards.

She approached cautiously and inspected the plate, but touched neither it nor the cherries which sat upon it. The symbolism seemed apt; the references Urgic. But all was unrealized and unfulfilled; as though some profound _absence_ were to be invoked. 

She regarded him suspiciously. “Is this the spell which Jovol bequeathed to you?”

“My transcription may contain some creative license,” Tozinak admitted. “Or even interpretative errors. But the _elegance_ is undeniable; I am sure you will agree. I _love_ you, Soneillon. Will you marry me?”

“I will need time to consider, Tozinak,” she raised an eyebrow. “Currently, the _Ahma_ is my paramour. He may not take kindly to a rival.”

Tozinak seemed mortified.

“But he I am sure he will be willing to release me,” Soneillon quickly added. “Given our particular circumstances.”

Tozinak breathed a sigh of relief.

Gingerly, Soneillon touched the plaque; a profound sense of _nonentity_ was immediately conveyed to her.

“Thank-you, Tozinak,” she said. She lifted the tablet, and allowed the cherries to slide off, into the snow. “Have you given thought to the boon which I promised you?”

He smiled hopefully.

“I will get back to you,” she nodded. _How very odd,_ she thought. The spell had been _modified_; of that she had no doubt. She would examine it upon her return to the Burh, but without question it invoked an _Apparition_, and not a Aeon. And it was given freely; _impressed_ upon her, in fact.

Briefly, she wondered _how?_ No matter. More pressing events concerned her.

*

[Soneillon]: Are you done, yet?

[Mostin]: _Do not interrupt me!_ Now I have lost it. Almost; I am finishing the aesthetics of the auditory display.

[Soneillon]: Mostin. Time is of the essence. Such details may be omitted.

[Mostin]: They may not.

[Soneillon]: Do you foresee any problems?

[Mostin]: No. Well, perhaps Nwm. He seems unsure of his commitment. Nehael’s latest avatar may be leaning on him. He has been forced to conceal certain things from Ortwine, which also does not sit well with him.

[Soneillon]: Can we find another?

[Mostin]: I _trust_ no other, Soneillon. Shomei has offered substantial bribes to most of the Collegium. I surmise this because many are conveniently _indisposed_. 

[Soneillon]: Can she use their power offensively against me? Would the Enforcer  intervene? 

[Mostin]: I believe that she would prefer not to put it to the test quite yet. But she will draw on them to augment herself and her devils. And her dragon. Heavily.

[Soneillon]: How long do I have, Mostin?

[Mostin]: That is rather difficult to predict. Futures are becoming unstable. Eadric’s interaction with Shomei is generating new catenaries.

[Soneillon]: I see.

[Mostin]: Tomorrow is the earliest that we can attempt the rite. I have selected a suitable site in an unpopulated area of Soan, in Sisperi. I have tried to keep it brief – ten minutes or so. But we will be vulnerable during that window. Punching through her wards will take tremendous focus and power. There will be a _lot_ of backlash; and a _lot_ of pain.

[Soneillon]: _Thank-you_, Mostin. That’s very sweet of you.


**
**


Shomei set her rod upon its stand, threw off the _robe of meteors_, and uncorked a flask of _kschiff_. She sank into a chair by the fire. Eadric was on a couch, absorbed in _Infernal Hermeneutics._

“Where is Nercamay?” She asked.

“She is resting,” Eadric nodded toward his chambers.

Shomei raised an eyebrow, and filled a glass. “How is _Infernal Hermeneutics_?”

Eadric lifted his head. “For a subject so dense, convoluted and impenetrable, it is a remarkably clear and concise exposition; it touches on frameworks with which I am familiar. I might almost believe that it was written for me.”

“Good,” Shomei nodded.

“You wrote this book.”

“Yes,” Shomei acknowledged.

“How long did it take you?”

“Not too long, _Ahma_. I wrote it in my head while I was putting my boots on.”

“Yet there are some dialogues in which you will not engage,” Eadric observed.

“Sometimes, the written word is easier, _Ahma_. And sometimes, it is necessary to begin at the beginning.”

“You believe that I should read _The Reattainment of Luminance_ myself, then?”

“Of course,” Shomei replied. “Your experience of it will differ from mine.”

Eadric groaned. “And how do you suggest I approach this most subtle of diabolic texts, given my total ignorance in matters of infernal scripture?”

“Without prejudice, _Ahma_. Because the _enigma_ may speak to you, if nothing else does.”

“Do I really have time for devilish enigmas, Shomei? How long – in your reckoning – before I _need_ to be at Galda?”

She was silent.

Eadric nodded appreciatively. “Well _this_ is something new. Shomei the Infernal is at a complete loss for words. She will not even dissemble.”

“I resent your implication. I do not employ deceit in my dealings with you, _Ahma_.”

“Very well,” Eadric said. “But let us continue this line of investigation. Given the fact that you are now making _military_ choices for the Wyrish Crown and the Temple – and I am assuming that Prince Tagur will be appointed to command in my absence – how long before Galda is invested?”

“Two days hence. If you have not returned, Nehael can lead them in your absence.”

“_Can she?_” Eadric asked sourly. “Whatever her individual martial prowess is in battle, Shomei – and I’m sure it is considerable – it is not the same as coordinating fifty thousand Templars, footsoldiers, bickering aristocrats, and Ardanese hooligans. Something which I’m rather good at, even if I do say so myself. I would suggest _I’m already late_. In my absence, I would appoint Tagur. Perhaps you would be so kind as to communicate this to the Small Council for me?”

“I have no wish to become embroiled in politics, _Ahma_. My goal is the _Urn_.”

“Yes, Shomei. That is abundantly clear. And such arbitrary lines you draw with regard to _politics_, when it suits you.”

“Why are you purposely seeking to anger me, _Ahma_?” Shomei asked irritably.

Eadric smiled. “Well, our discourse does seem to be most productive in that climate; I need to rile you to certain point, in order to stimulate moral conflict in you. I wouldn’t be a very good _Ahma_ otherwise, would I?”

Shomei looked at him and sighed. She picked up the _kschiff_ and two glasses, and moved onto the couch.

“Drink,” she said, pouring.

“_Kasshiv_ is not the answer to everything, Shomei.”

“It helps,” she said. “And your consumption has not exactly diminished. What did you do to Nercamay?”

“She experienced _saizhan_,” Eadric replied. “She is integrating.”

Shomei shook her head. “You are an insidious influence, _Ahma_. You have begun corrupting my devils.”

“We touched a little on _The Reattainment of Luminance_ afterwards,” he added.

“I’m sure she has her own perspective,” Shomei sighed, leaned back, and closed her eyes.

Eadric observed her reaction and continued. “The notion of _perfection_ seems to be alluded to frequently; it may also have been my choice of the word _perfect_ in the context of her particular understanding at that moment which impelled Nercamay to _saizhan_.”

“Such synchronies occur.”

“Although, she understood _perfected_ primarily in terms of Urgic _dignity_. The Sublime Essence of the Flame.”

Shomei remained silent.

“Will you speak to me, Shomei?”

“I would prefer not to,” she smiled. 

“Perhaps I should continue speculating, then? As your eyelids are closed, I will gauge your facial expressions; as you pointed out, you do lie poorly for a devil.”

She opened her eyes and glared at him. “You are relentless. That road is closed to me, _Ahma_. There can be no _perfection_, and I had not even considered my potential in those terms until I read that accursed book; sometimes my Will drives me without my full cogniscance: I am an _imperfect I._”

“What is the obstacle?” He asked.

“Would you like the poetic or the functional?” 

“Whichever suits you.” 

“A little of each,” she said drily. “_Ansus anamik ahman nihabaída_. Into me, God would not breathe.” 

“I see.”

“You have made your choices, _Ahma_; do not repudiate mine.”

“It seems I cannot,” he sighed. “Shomei, what I feel…”

“_Don’t_, _Ahma_. What you feel is merely what you feel; what you do is what you do: and that’s the point. Here.” She handed him a goblet. “Drink.”

“You are very wise, Shomei.” 

“Yes, _Ahma_.” 

They drank.

*

 “I cannot readily see a solution to this problem,” Eadric sighed. 

“You have certainly made things very _difficult_ for yourself, _Ahma._” Shomei nodded. “Although, I admit, on some level I am sympathetic to your efforts. You are trying to hold three truths in balance; this is no trivial task.” With a flourish, three balls appeared within Shomei’s hand: one black, one green, and one deep indigo.

She span them with a conjurer’s finesse and handed them to him one by one “You need to find a new perspective in order to resolve your trilemma, _Ahma_. Then you will be able to juggle.”

He squinted. “A clever analogy, Shomei, but I foresee problems. This one,” he held up the black ball, “will stick to my palm. This one,” he showed the green, “is difficult to catch. And this one,” he presented the indigo, “is apt to pursue its own trajectory, regardless of where I throw it.”

“Then you will have to concentrate very hard, _Ahma_.”

He looked at her. “Are you suggesting that some kind of _accommodation_ is possible?”

“The black ball may be less kindly disposed to view things in those terms, but yes, _Ahma_; Nehael’s philosophy in this regard has merit,” she shrugged.

“I am incapable of such a feat,” he shook his head.

“Your frame of reference needs to change before _you_ can make such an accommodation, _Ahma_.”

“And how do you suggest that I might achieve this?” He asked.

“_Sovereignty_ would be my solution, _Ahma_, with Regency as an intermediate step. If you deify yourself, you will no longer be bound by conventional mores.”

“A route which you make sound so _simple_, Shomei.”

“I imply nothing of the sort,” she said through narrowed eyes. “But nor can I see how you can challenge Kaalaanala without it. And think, _Ahma_, your romantic problems will be solved: each of your women can have an avatar, and there will be no squabbling.”

He shook his head.

“Of course, Soneillon is greedy, and will probably want three _Ahma_s.”

“Shomei…”

“Which, at least, might fill her needs and shut her up.” She smiled and raised her glass.

He sighed. “You can be a very _wicked_ devil, Shomei.”

“Thank-you, _Ahma_.” She gestured, and a door appeared in the wall beside the fireplace.

“A new chamber?” he asked.

“Yes, _Ahma_.” Shomei stood and picked up the _kschiff._

“May I see?” He inquired.

She raised an eyebrow. “That was the general idea, _Ahma_.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “Shomei, I am still your prisoner.”

“Yes, _Ahma_. But you are drunk on _kschiff_; I am taking advantage of you.”

“Why now?” He asked.

“Tomorrow, I must fight, _Ahma_; as you said, you will need to be at Galda. It would be _unprincipled_ for me to detain you much longer.”

“Shomei, I…”

“_Don’t_, Eadric. Yes or no?” She offered her hand.

He took it. The rest followed. Her tenderness astonished him.


*


----------



## tleilaxu

Sepulchrave II said:


> “Arguably, it is _the_ natural mode of perception. But remaining there is…difficult,”




saizhan and dasein are not unidentical?


----------



## Knightfall

Well, that was an interesting development... but not unexpected.


----------



## carborundum

Hmmm, three Eadrics would be _*a*_ solution  At least someone's thinking out of the box.

I *like* Shomei - I don't want Mostin and Soneillon to hurt her :-(


----------



## Bloodcookie

_Many_ interesting points in this one. Touching on just two:



> He smiled ironically. “Our relationship has changed, Nercamay. From this point, I have a duty toward you, and a responsibility for your well-being.”



Under the doctrine (such as it is) of _saizhan_, is gnosis a prerequisite for salvation? Or only for the deity's personal concern? Perhaps only a prerequisite for the potential salvation of fiends?



> “I believe that the book is about Shomei. About devils. About _saizhan_. About you.”
> 
> ...
> 
> She opened her eyes and glared at him. “You are relentless. That road is closed to me, Ahma. There can be no perfection, and I had not even considered my potential in those terms until I read that accursed book; sometimes my Will drives me without my full cogniscance: I am an imperfect I.”



This seems to imply that _saizhan_ is one route to a form of ontic advancement that Shomei doesn't find necessarily unacceptable, though (because of her willful rejection) it is now lost to her. So the _I_ can survive (and become empowered by?) the shattering of the perception of differentiation? Now I'm thinking of parallels with Nietzsche's 'Apolline and Dionysiac', and think I need to go lie down...


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

carborundum said:


> Hmmm, three Eadrics would be _*a*_ solution  At least someone's thinking out of the box.




Should have to be kept separate, since they would hate each other's guts for stealing "his" girlfriend and being a fake of "himself". Clone shaeningans FTW. 



carborundum said:


> I *like* Shomei - I don't want Mostin and Soneillon to hurt her :-(




To be honest I like Soneillon better than Shomei, mostly because Shomei is in three instances, including her simulacra evolving in different aspects.

As for Eadric ... he should get all three of his girlfriends into threesome and make sure each have enough "good time" to be too tired for arguing.


----------



## Morte

I am waiting for Mostin to gate in on Eadric + Shomai at an awkward moment, deploy disjunctions and a _Gu_, and then say "oh, er, sorry, I didn't realise you were, err, umm..."


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Day 6 – Confrontation*


When Eadric awoke, Shomei was gone. His stomach turned, and a sense of foreboding gripped him. He leapt up and hurriedly entered the study.

The air was cold. The door to the cottage was open, the fire had guttered and gone out; morning sunlight streamed in. Eadric ran outside into the snow; a long, narrow area, hemmed in on all sides by a dense thicket of Hazel. There was no sign of her, but a large patch nearby was bare of frost and had been scorched with such heat that the earth had vitrified; Qematiel must have alighted there, he knew. He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see Nercamay; she carried a heavy robe. She drew it about him to cover his modesty.

Nercamay smiled gently. “She asked me to tell you that the fence will be passable by noon, and you will be able to leave; that she will try her best to keep damage at Deorham to a minimum. And in the event that you don’t see her again and she does not have the opportunity to harangue you, to look first and foremost to your own enkindlement: that you should gaze upon the Sun, because _Isthu Sa_.*”

“How long has she been gone?”

“Less than an hour, _Ahma_.”

“Did she reveal her specific intention to you?” He asked.

“She was meeting with a clique of a dozen wizards which included Jalael, Muthollo and Daunton; thence to Deorham.”

“_Shomei!_” He called, the force of his will behind her name. He knew that she could hear him. She ignored him.

He invoked the _Eleos_. Nehael. Goddess. Oronthon – last. 

Nercamay shook her head. “She is her own Self, _Ahma_; she will brook no intervention on her behalf on the part of another.”

“I refuse to accept this circumstance,” he sighed.

“I do not see that you have much choice, _Ahma_.”

“Can you leave here, Nercamay?’ He asked.

She shook her head. “The area is _locked_.”

“Unsurprising,” Eadric smiled grimly. “Can you issue a _sending_?”

“No, _Ahma_.”

“Is there no way for you to _reach_ anyone?” He asked, exasperated.

“I am a muse, _Ahma_; I appear in dreams.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Then that will have to do. What time is it Nercamay?”

“Dawn was two hours ago, _Ahma_.”

He cursed, and made his way back inside into his chambers. Eadric retrieved the figurine of the _Eleos_, and then rummaged through drawers in the study until he found the knife with which Shomei had carved it. He exited the cottage again, and sat upon a rude stool; all the while, Nercamay watched uncertainly.

“I need you to communicate with someone who sleeps at this late hour; Ortwine is a likely target. She prefers to rise just before noon.”

Nercamay entered a brief trance, and shook her head. “Ortwine does not sleep _Ahma_.”

Eadric sighed, and wracked his brains. “Try the goddess Lai.”

Again, a brief pause. Nercamay nodded. “I touched her; she seemed confused that no message was forthcoming.”

“Good,” Eadric nodded. “Dream again. Tell her to wake up, to contact Nwm and to instruct him that the _Ahma_ will require immediate reembodiment.”

“_Ahma_, I…”

“_Do so_, Nercamay.”

She complied.

He touched the statuette of the _Eleos_, invoking her for protection, and handed Nercamay the blade. “I cannot kill myself, Nercamay. It is antithetical to my nature. If you…”

“I know where to put a knife, _Ahma_,” she said drily. “I am a devil.”

There was a brief, white-hot pain. Blood stained the snow.

Nercamay sighed, sat by the body of the _Ahma_, and entered _saizhan_.


**


Mostin had chosen an abandoned croft in a heavily wooded range of hills in Soan. None had gone there since the infestation of Graz’zt’s demons had scoured Sisperi; some few – mostly babau and leaping demons – remained, but had been quickly slain or driven off by Nwm. The binding site was an overgrown stone silo which lay half below ground, into which a steep set of moss-covered steps gave; the interior was damp and cool. Mostin had prepared an area ten feet in diameter, and drawn a diagram of baffling complexity with celestial silver and salts; items which were becoming increasingly difficult to procure with the removal of the Empyrean from reality as currently described.

Little of the remaining symbolism was traditional in nature. Shomei’s exempt status – together with her magnification – made unconventional adjuncts and trappings a requirement. Gone were the blasting rods, holy water and other typical Goetic tools; Mostin had based the rite off of the Articles of the Wyrish Injunction, and would invoke the Claviger in testimony to Shomei’s confinement. It meant working with oneiric ideograms describing various substrates of Dream; conditions to which Shomei might be vulnerable, but of which he, himself, had little experience. He fretted and paced and muttered.

Nwm – still conflicted in his feelings, but grimly conscious that the binding was probably necessary – watched dispassionately. The choice to keep Ortwine in the dark – because of her connection to the Hazel – also left him with a sour feeling in his mouth. But Hlioth’s words – that Shomei would leverage that relationship – could not be ignored. However mad, the crone’s insights were almost unerring in matters Tree-ish.

Mulissu descended through a large hole in the domed ceiling and sighed. “Will this take much longer, Mostin?”

“Trust me when I say that it would be best to get it right the first time,” the Alienist replied acidly.


**


No viridescent devas waited for him. There was no Yew; no mountain; no fresh, resin-scented air. Only a frigid void. He was distinct from it, and illuminated its merest fraction; its vastness humbled him. He gazed across an immeasurable distance at the World; it seemed tiny and insignificant. He waited. His knew that his own light and heat might sustain him for an eternity. He hoped they would not have to: he was utterly alone.

A familiar voice called to him. He sighed, and leapt toward it, intent upon descent into the Green and the body which he knew awaited him. Something – a claw made of color – rushed at him and seemed to snatch him, drawing him aside. A visage made of potential, dynamic and shifting, and wise beyond all conception, held him and observed him without emotion.

_Do not forget that you are still frail,_ it said to him.

It hurled the _Ahma_ downwards like a meteor; briefly, his essence fragmented into a quintillion parts and streamed into the World, which gathered them together again.

He awoke with a start, not to Nwm’s face, but to Nehael’s.

*

Eadric stood at once. His surroundings were familiar: the interior of the tabernacle. The _Sela_ sat nearby in meditation, but did not regard him.

“That was a riskier strategy than you might imagine,” Nehael sighed.

“The stakes are high. Where is Nwm?” He asked.

“He and I are in unspoken disagreement,” Nehael smiled, handing him clothing, which he hastily began to don. “He believes that neutralizing Shomei is necessary. He has travelled to Sisperi with Mostin and Mulissu in order to bind her. Soneillon will act as a sink for Mostin’s spell. He would have waited until after this was accomplished before _reincarnating_ you – probably as a mule. Fortunately, I knew that you were dead; I suppose if you invoke every deity you can conceive of, someone is bound to hear.”

“Why do you believe this to be an error on Nwm’s part?”

“First, because Shomei’s survival hinges on the word of Soneillon given to Mostin – and I suspect that she views it as somewhat less binding than when given to the _Ahma_, for whom she has a rather intense and possessive love. She _knows_, Eadric – how can she not, after what you have shared? Your recent actions may have led her to now view Shomei as a substantive _threat_ to your affection.”

“And the second reason?” He groaned.

“The second reason is that the first reason does not matter, Eadric,” she handed him _Lukarn_. “Because Shomei will throw her full weight at Deorham before Mostin even has a chance to begin his spell; you can be assured that Soneillon will remain there until the last possible minute for her own safety. Even if she subsequently made her way to Sisperi, Shomei would follow her with Qematiel and her devils and attack before the rite could be completed. She might hound Soneillon through a dozen worlds and wreck them in her passing. Of course, Shomei wouldn’t be attacking today _at all_ if it weren’t ...”

“…for my recent actions.” He sighed. “I feel as though I’ve made a terrible mess of things.”

“Well, then at least we’ve made some progress,” Nehael nodded. 

“How long do I have?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Nehael smiled.

“What if the rite were to proceed _without_ Soneillon’s involvement?” Eadric asked. “With me acting as guarantor of Shomei’s safety?”

“You would need to find a very _selfless_, willing caster of some magnitude with an untapped reservoir to act as the sink,” Nehael replied. 

“Can you…”

“Do not look at me, Eadric. I am red; magic is not my forte.”

“Is there any…”

Teppu coughed gently and entered the tent. Eadric gave a hopeful look.

Nehael sighed. “Yes, Eadric. Teppu is capable.”

“Then I must go now…”

“One moment,” Nehael interrupted. “Teppu’s reservoir was reserved against the imminent danger of the Cheshnite horde and the Fourth Effluxion, which looks like [_this_].”

Eadric staggered as the magnitude of the threat was revealed to him.

Nehael nodded. “So please bear that in mind when you choose to spend it elsewhere.”

“Why must I always be the one to choose?”

“Because you are the _Ahma_, Eadric,” Teppu smiled jovially. “A job which no-one else wants.”

The _Sela_ stirred. “Do not forget that you are still frail.”

“_Sela, I…_”

Tramst held up his hand. “Remind Shomei that the Flame needs nothing and is always Perfect, Eadric. _It cannot Fall._”

He nodded.

“And _Ahma_,” the _Sela_ continued. “I don’t think you’ve done too _badly_, given the circumstances.”

Nehael raised an eyebrow. “The _Sela_ is much _kinder_ than I; I am merely compassionate.”

“Will you come?” Eadric asked Nehael.

“No, Eadric.” She smiled. “I am going to go and shoot ghouls; which is, to say, _my job_. But I’m sure Ortwine will accompany you; she has a bone to pick with Nwm.”

“Nehael,” he began. “Concerning Soneillon…”

“At this point, Eadric, my practical advice would be to _grovel_.”

“Noted,” he said.


**


[Mostin]: We are ready.

[Soneillon]: You are too late, Mostin.

*

Qematiel gyred in the skies above Trempa. Shomei considered.

Between them, Soneillon and Carasch might have a total of seven transvalents of up to the four-hundredth order available. Shomei herself had two remaining, and of only the two-hundredth, but her most powerful infernal minions had a large array of _superb dispellings_ which, if intelligently managed, might open a gap in Soneillon’s defenses and reveal a line of attack. Shomei could then use _time stops_ and bring a barrage of _hellfire acid storms_ to bear against Soneillon before she could react; hopefully enough to end it. Shomei knew that careful deployment of her devils was vital. There was no doubt that the chthonic balor had seen the first wave which Shomei had dispatched; the six-winged Aristaqis and fifty exemplars would test the potent wards which shrouded Kyrtill’s Burh, and attempt to goad Soneillon into precipitous action.

Shomei could not afford to be indiscriminate in her attack; any volley or assault which happened to catch the Blackthorn in its area would result in the certain and immediate extinction of the devils responsible, as the reflex of the scion – or worse yet, the _ludja_ itself – snuffed them out.

Her mind was linked to that of Aristaqis and followed his thoughts, although no direct sight could be conveyed to her within the suppressive ambit of the scion. The eight flights which preceded him described an arc a quarter-mile across; their positions and velocities understood by Shomei as an abstraction of constantly changing coordinates and vectors. 

As though to demonstrate to Shomei both her own, sheer physical prowess and her willingness to engage immediately and without intermediaries, Soneillon appeared directly within the flight path of Aristaqis and deep within the ranks of the exemplars who accompanied him. The demoness set about the infernal seraph instantly, eschewing magic for a more direct attack. He dwarfed her with his mass, but Void struck as a storm of tendrils which lashed at him. Before he had even the chance to swing his weapon, he had been reduced to nothing; all trace of _ens_ had been removed. His blade – a nine-foot flaming sword etched with infernal runes – plunged from the skies and sank into a bank of snow.

Shomei cursed. She hadn’t expected Soneillon to act _that_ impulsively. The remaining devas hurled themselves at the demoness, but Soneillon shrugged them off; she preferred no further engagement at that time, and vanished. Shomei ordered the devils to reform and press on.

Shortly after, they encountered the outermost of the defenses around the keep; an impenetrable barrier of force.

*

Soneillon had learned many tricks, and had drawn freely upon the power of the _Urn_ to entrench and fortify her position. Nested magics surrounded the stronghold, each more complex than the last.

The outermost ward was a paling not unlike that which she had erected in Throile, albeit of more modest scope: a force encountered as a solid barrier with a diameter of a mile at the center of which Kyrtill’s Burh – the stones of which had been reinforced to the point of magical adamant – was situated. 

The entire area was a dimensional cordon of such power that no magic within Shomei’s grasp – or so Soneillon judged – might break it; within, a veiled discontinuity was hidden, large enough for the demoness to facilitate the summoning of her minions, and for her to flee if it became necessary. Six invisible nets, debilitating screens which would afflict those who attempted to press close, further surrounded the bastion; each was protected by a metaward designed to stave off aggressive _dispellings_ which were focused upon it. Two inner screens – wrought of blasphemy and keyed to the annihilation of devils – provided the tightest defense. _Symbols_ adorned the flags of the courtyard; scribed on walls and doors were glyphs describing ruin and insanity.

Within the chapel – her gap within the _dimensional lock_ – Soneillon began to _summon_ her lesser kin in an unending torrent; chthonic succubi who seemed as dark reflections of herself, some degrees removed in power but formidable nonetheless.

[Mazikreen]: The _Paling_ is down.

Soneillon ignored her; the demonesses began to take flight. They harried the devas who were now moving forward in determined waves.

Powerful _dispellings_ began to target her defenses.

Shomei deployed the main strength of her devils, striking from east, south and west with a focus upon negating the transvalent screens. An erosion of the wards began, but the _dimensional lock_ remained intact, impervious to the _superb dispellings_ which struck it. Fallen exemplars and episemes pressed forward relentlessly.

The Infernalist stopped time, _teleported_ to a distance of a mile from the keep, and struck it with a yet more potent _dispelling_, shattering the tight inner cordon. Still, the _lock_ endured. Shomei swore, retreated beyond range, and waited.

Time recommenced. Devils surged toward Kyrtill’s Burh.

*

Realizing what had happened, Soneillon opened the mouth to an adjacent demiplane; a confined space where several hundred demons – including Abyssal nobility whom she had suborned – had been kept locked in close proximity to one another for far too long. They erupted with a fury which was utterly indiscriminate; an explosion of malice and spite which poured out into the world, intent on doing violence to whatever was nearest. Soneillon augmented them with a powerful spell.

Within the courtyard, the black axe of Carasch now moved in great arcs, cutting through swathes of the dark celestials who flung themselves at him as though they were butter. His annihilating fire – a shroud of unbeing kindled by magic to greater intensity – burned those of lesser stature away before they even came close to him. None could withstand him.

He uttered a syllable; three Antagonists perished, along with a dozen other episemes: ash and smoke, borne away on a mordant wind. And another; a storm of blasphemous void scoured the keep and the countryside beyond of devils of less than once-exalted status. And a third; Armaros, Shomei’s captain – reckoned greatest of the Thirteen – perished beneath it. 

Hellfire engulfed him; he weathered it.

*

At the last, Shomei had thrown the wyrm at the engagement. She circled above the keep, breathing great gouts of fire, carefully avoiding the scion. Demons disintegrated in droves; more than a few devils were caught in her discharges. Ahazu and Dhenu, once great Abyssal magnates, burned away within a line of destructive breath. Carasch prepared to engage her; Soneillon bade him otherwise.

The merlons on the Steeple melted as Qematiel unleashed ancient hellfire upon it, obliterating demons who jostled in the air above it. The dragon screamed; Soneillon had set about her neck, and Void pierced her scales. Qematiel powered vertically upwards, twisted her head, unleashed breath which should annihilate, groped with her claws. She thrashed wildly in the skies.

Soneillon clung tenaciously, enduring the heat, and drank of Qematiel’s being: the quiddity of the wyrm began to falter; she was slowly unmade. Her ascent arrested; she began an erratic plummet, her head and tail spinning over, end to end. As they fell, the demoness moved over her and came to rest on her muzzle between her eyes; the world reeled around them both as she transfixed the wyrm with her gaze.

[Soneillon]: We are not so different, you and I. But your time has passed; you no longer belong. This is the Void [thus]. It is peace. It is your right. Do you wish it?

[Qematiel]: I cannot remember it.

[Soneillon]: Choose to trust me, or not. I will slay you either way.

[Qematiel]: I will take it.

“You were something glorious,” Soneillon smiled gently, stroked the wyrm’s great snout, and kissed her. 

Qematiel – first, last and greatest of the hellfire wyrms, and the paragon of her kind – vanished in a dark fire into oblivion.

Soneillon returned to the melee.

*

[Yeqon]: Almost…

Shomei turned to Irel, Who Smites – the only episeme whom she had not deployed into the combat, and raised an eyebrow.

“Stay here,” she instructed.

A _superb dispelling_ of incredible power struck Soneillon.

[Yeqon]: Now. Go [_here_]

Shomei sensed her moment and stopped time, _teleporting_ into the doorway of the chapel amid the chaotic fight which was underway. She paused momentarily to gain her bearings; Soneillon was in the process of slaying another seraph – the Prosecutor Pineme – and demons and fallen celestials clawed or hewed at one another nearby.

The Infernalist’s left hand began to coil temporality, a slow, purposeful movement which repeated _time stops_ at regular twelve-second intervals. Her right charted a faster counterpoint, building hellfire in a rapid crescendo. There was no margin for error; if Shomei’s concentration faltered or she risked even one of her temporal interruptions to stretch beyond its safe duration, Soneillon, she knew, might finish her in an instant. But Shomei gave reality no opportunity to recommence.

Energy coalesced. From a subjective perspective, Shomei continued her motions for more than two minutes; outside of her bubble, no time had passed. The continuum in her vicinity threatened to snap under the pressure which she applied to it. Sweat poured off of her, as an unrealized maelstrom of power grew to incredible intensity. She emptied herself utterly. All power, all will, focused on a single Moment. That which must be done; that thing which she must have.

She _teleported_ to a distance of twenty miles, beyond the range of the perception of Carasch.

Time began again.

Soneillon extinguished Pineme. A fraction of a second later, there was a detonation and she was engulfed in hellfire of unimaginable heat; an exquisite pain, which burned Void itself and pushed her to the brink of annihilation – where she teetered – but not quite beyond. The strength which she had sapped from her recent conquests had buoyed her to a point where she could withstand it; she sighed. _This girl is such a tease_, Soneillon thought.

[Shomei]: Well?

[Yeqon]: No. What now?

…

[Yeqon]: Mistress?

…


**


Shomei hurled herself at an invisible barrier in a fury; Hellfire surged from her in waves as she raved. Beyond the confining circle stood Mostin, Teppu, Mulissu and Nwm; somewhat removed, Ortwine watched without emotion. Hindmost, the _Ahma_, who regarded her with concern.

Shomei fumed within the thaumaturgic diagram and glowered at Mostin and Eadric. The Alienist motioned; the others made their way in some relief from the chamber. He waited until her turbulence had subsided to a point where she could communicate.

“Very clever, Mostin,” she finally nodded, looking at the glyphs which contained her.

“Finding the apposite symbolism was difficult,” he agreed. “But I think I did a good job.”

“Will this argument be a presentation from both of you at once or a sequential attempt to change my perspective? How did you get out, Eadric?”

“Nercamay killed me; Nehael resurrected me.”

“Oh?” Mostin inquired. “The muse? What is she like?”

“Quite charming,” Eadric nodded.

“You treat death lightly, _Ahma_,” Shomei smiled. “I cannot afford to.”

“I do nothing of the sort,” he said stonily. “How much collateral damage did you cause, Shomei?”

“I? – None. All of my actions are intensely focused, _Ahma_ – as you know. I do not thrash wildly about. Soneillon’s demons, on the other hand, are no doubt running riot.”

 “The universe does not consist entirely of _you_, Shomei.”

“Yes, _Ahma_, it does: that’s precisely my point.”

“And the _I_ as relational?” Mostin asked. “Didn’t your _Sela_ mention something like that to you in one of your more religious moments?”

“You have already been in dialogue?” Eadric was astonished. “You haven’t been _communicating_ very well, Shomei.”

“It’s none of your damn business.” Shomei said.

“_When will you assume some responsibility, you petulant child?_” Eadric thundered.

Mostin raised a hand. “It seems that I must act as arbiter of your passions as well, Eadric; perhaps a little restraint is in order?”

“I…” Eadric began, and then calmed himself. “Yes, Mostin; thank-you. Shomei, the _Sela_ asked me to remind you that _the Flame needs nothing. It is always Perfect. It cannot Fall_.”

She looked uncertain. “I am not sure what…”

“It is my _function_ as the _Ahma_ with regard to _you_ to impress this point upon you.”

“Your perfection is certainly achievable, Shomei,” Mostin agreed unexpectedly. “The _Web of Motes_ revealed as much. But there is some kind of _gap_ which prevents the catenary from forming. I cannot intuit precisely what the gap is; its order is Aeonic and thus inscrutable to the _Web_.”

“I do not understand…”

_Pharamne’s Urn_ landed in the dirt near the Alienist. Mostin twitched. Shomei gaped. Eadric turned his head and swallowed.

Soneillon smiled and approached. She had appeared in the guise of the Trempan peasant-girl. “There is your _gap_, Mostin. Ah…don’t touch it; my gesture was purely for dramatic effect.”

“Soneillon…” Eadric began.

She struck Eadric’s face soundly with her palm, flooring him. Mostin winced. Soneillon sighed, drew close to the thaumaturgic diagram, placed her hands behind her back, and inspected Shomei as though she were an exhibit on display. She arched an eyebrow.

“She is very _short_, Eadric,” Soneillon remarked, turning to him.

“You are very strong,” the _Ahma_ stood groggily. He realized that she had never, before, committed any act of violence against him.

“I am not sure what you mean by the _Urn_ being the _gap_,” Mostin licked his lips and looked at the amphora at his feet. “It is merely a source of great _power_. It is some kind of impediment to her Self-realization? ”

Shomei sat within the diagram and groaned.

“I do believe your _short friend_ just had a little epiphany,” Soneillon smiled at Eadric.

Shomei sighed. “The power is the problem, Mostin. The _Urn_ is external to and greater than myself; it is of the transcendent order, and is not-_I_. Possession of it – and a focus of myself _upon_ it – and my own _perfection_ – which must necessarily be described in terms of _I_ – might be deemed mutually exclusive. I can choose one route or the other.” 

“And you would deem perfection preferable?” Eadric asked.

“Well obviously, yes.”

“This irony should be preserved for all posterity,” Eadric observed drily.

Soneillon approached Eadric. He gave a nervous smile. Her eyes bored into him. “You seem to have lost my token, Eadric.”

“Well, I…”

“No matter. I have another.”  She reached within her pocket and withdrew a scarf of black samite which cracked as she unfurled it, causing him to start. “For the time being, you remain _mine_.” She spoke through gritted teeth and tied it tightly around his wrist, cutting off his circulation. “Let’s see if you can go a week, this time.”

“Soneillon, I…”

“Later, dear.” She smiled sweetly.

The demoness turned back toward Shomei and regarded her with a mixture of scepticism and curiosity; the Infernalist appeared to have regained her focus, and seemed calmly absorbed in herself. Soneillon slowly walked toward the circle and looked intensely at her. She placed her foot within, scraping dirt across the diagram and breaking its confining power. 

“Do not…” Mostin gave a horrified look.

Soneillon spoke softly. “_Drishhtavanaasi varca avadhya tvamayaa._”

“_Leika kunnan sauili Thiudan, kuntho._” Shomei replied. “_Sezho saizhia thatei saizhio. Antharuhthan? Saizhi?_”

“_Nitya iisi._”

There was a pause. Fear gripped Eadric.

“I do like _Irel_,” Soneillon remarked. “I didn’t see him.”

“Yes, he’s sweet; I kept him back. He smites, you know.” Shomei stood.

“_Really?_ How intriguing. Perhaps I might _borrow_ him?”

“I am sure some arrangement can be made,” Shomei nodded. She gave a sidelong glance toward Eadric. Soneillon caught the exchange.

“But not before midsummer.” The demoness reached down, picked up the _Urn_, and smiled at Mostin.

“_Mine,_” she said.










*Thou art That


*Notes*

*Soneillon’s Bitch-Slap*
[sblock]Soneillon’s famous bitch-slap was made against a flat-footed Eadric and consisted of the equivalent of a surprise action trip attack followed by a full tendril attack routine to subdue. The attack was glossed (or ‘skinned,’ to use modern parlance) as a single slap.

Eadric sustained 780 points of nonlethal damage and was knocked prone.[/sblock]
*Shomei Enkindled*
[sblock]The Enkindled Shomei in her first stage, with 3 “actualized” divine ranks; they are superimposed upon her unascended form, but the outsider HD are not included. I’ve pegged her CR at 54; the full realization (the Perfection) of the Antinomian Flame involves the addition of 60 outsider HD plus perks – the equivalent of benefits granted by both the exalted and perfect templates possessed by the Flame – at which point Shomei’s CR increases to approximately 95.

Feats are reconfigured in order to accommodate SDAs more effectively, gear value increases to the equivalent of 42Mgp – all of Shomei’s items become legacy major artifacts. The _Trammel of Hell _is not set against this total. She is assumed to be under the effect of _foresight_. 

*Shomei Enkindled (CR54)*

*Demipower*
*Symbol:* The Rod
*Portfolio:* Becoming, the Self
*Worshippers:* None
*Domains:* Knowledge, Liberation, Magic

*Conjurer 35 (Focused Specialist)*
*Medium Outsider (Augmented, [Evil, Lawful, Exempt], Native)*
*Divine Rank:* 3
*HD:* 35d4+420 (560hp)
*Init:* +11
*Spd:* 80ft.
*AC:* 122 (+60 Epic Mage Armor, +13 deflection, +11 Dex, +3 Divine, +13 natural, +2 insight, +10 profane; touch 109, flat-footed 111)
*Base Atk/Grap:* +28/+40
*Atk:* +51 melee (1d6+15, Hazel rod) or +42 ranged touch
*Space/Reach:* 5ft./5ft.
*SA:* Salient divine abilities, spell-like abilites, spells
*SQ:* Concession to the prior infinity, darkvision 60ft., doubly exempt, DR 15/epic and silver, Hazel's benedicite, infernal bibliosoph, greater plane shift, greater teleport, immune (ability damage, ability drain, acid, cold, death effects, disease, disintegration, electricity, energy drain, fire, mind-effecting effects, paralysis, poison, sleep, stunning, transmutations), immortal, remote communication, salient divine abilities, see in darkness, SR 144*, telepathy 100ft. understand, speak and read all languages, speak directly to all beings within 3 miles,
*SV:* Fort +48 Ref +49 Will +113*
*Abilities:* Str 30 Dex 32 Con 34 Int 65 Wis 41 Cha 36
*Skills:* Bluff +35, Concentration +102, Craft (alchemy) +68, Craft (engraving) +68, Craft (jeweler) +68, Craft (woodworking) +68, Decipher Script +68, Diplomacy +40, Gather Information +36, Intimidate +36, Knowledge (arcana) +118, Knowledge (architecture) +68, Knowledge (geography) +68, Knowledge (history) +68, Knowledge (local) +68, Knowledge (nature) +68, Knowledge (nobility) +68, Knowledge (the Planes) +68, Knowledge (religion) +68, Intimidate +36, Listen +36, Profession (arboriculture) +68, Profession (law) +68, Ride +32, Sense Motive +36, Spellcraft +135 (scrolls +139), Spot +36. 
*Feats:* Augment Summoning, Craft Wondrous Item, Extend Spell, Greater Spell Focus (Conjuration), Greater Spell Penetration, Heighten Spell, Iron Will, Quicken Spell, Skill Focus (Spellcraft), Silent Spell, Spell Focus (Conjuration), Spell Mastery, Scribe Scroll, Spell Penetration, Still Spell
*Epic Feats: *Epic Skill Focus (Spellcraft), Epic Spellcasting, Epic Spell Focus (Conjuration), Epic Spell Penetration, Epic Will, Improved Heighten Spell, Multispell (x2)
*Salient Infernal Abilities:* Arcane Mastery, Alter Reality, Divine Spellcasting, Hellfire Mastery

_XP Reservoir:_ 15,000/week

*Shomei has AC 62, SR 64 and a Will saving throw modifier of +63 when epic protections are not in place.

*Senses:* Shomei can see, hear, touch and smell at a distance of 3 miles. As a standard action she can perceive anything within 3 miles of any location where her name was spoken in the last hour. She can extend her senses to up to two locations at once. She can block the sensing power of deities of her rank or lower at up to two remote locations at once for 3 hours.
*Automatic Actions: *Shomei can use any skill related to her portfolio – even those she has no ranks in – as a free action, provided that the DC is 15 or less.
*Create Magic Items: *Shomei can create magic items related to her portfolio without the requisite item creation feat provided she meets all other prerequisites for the item, and the item's market price does not exceed 5,000gp.
*Divine Aura: *As a free action on her turn, Shomei may choose to emanate or suppress an aura of daze, fright or resolve with a radius of 30ft. A Will saving throw (DC43) negates the effect.

*Salient Infernal Abilities*
_*Alter Reality:* _Shomei may use this ability at will by drawing 5000xp from her reservoir.
_*Arcane Mastery: *_Shomei never needs to consult a spellbook when preparing spells.
_*Divine (Infernal) Spellcasting: *_Shomei may cast spells of up to 27th level. She is regarded as having the spell focus feat for any spell which she casts.
_*Hellfire Mastery:* _Whenever Shomei casts a spell or uses a spell-like ability which deals energy damage, the effect manifests as a fire effect; the damage results directly from infernal power and is not subject to resistances or immunities to fire. Shomei herself is immune to all [Fire] effects and is unaffected by Hellfire effects regardless of their source.

*Concession to the Prior Infinity (Su): *Shomei may use any planar binding, summon monster, gate spell or any epic conjuration to freely call or summon any devil or other lawful evil outsider. 

*Doubly Exempt (Ex): *Shomei may ignore any alignment-based effects which might adversely affect her due to her subtypes; conversely, she may choose to be affected by any alignment-based effects which would provide her with a benefit. Devils and other lawful evil outsiders automatically recognize Shomei's status and their initial attitude toward her is always friendly; evil feys and suborned devils with the [Green] subtype treat her likewise. Divinations which attempt to discern information pertaining to Shomei's alignment always fail.

*Spell-Like Abilities: *Shomei can use the following spell-like abilities at will (Caster Level 38): _antimagic field, break enchantment, clairaudience/clairvoyance, detect secret doors, detect thoughts, discern location, divination, find the path, foresight, freedom of movement, greater dispel magic, greater plane shift, greater teleport,  identify, imbue with spell ability, legend lore, mage’s disjunction, magic aura, mind blank, omen of peril, protection from spells, rage, refuge, spell resistance, spell turning, true seeing, unbinding, undetectable alignment._ The Save DC, where appropriate, is 23+ spell level.

*Hazel's Benedicite (Su):* Shomei may craft any rod, staff or wand (including epic rods and staves) as though she possessed the appropriate item creation feats and the Efficient Item Creation epic feat, provided that she uses wood from a Hazel aspect as the material for her crafting. Shomei pays the normal xp and gp associated with crafting such items.

*Infernal Bibliosoph (Ex): *As curator of Hell's library, if Shomei Takes 20 on any Knowledge skill check made within its confines she receives a +30 profane bonus to the check.

*Ongoing Transvalents: *Shomei enjoys a +60 bonus to her Will saving throws and AC and a +80 bonus to her Spell Resistance as a result of ongoing epic spells. These are renewed on a weekly basis and have a caster level of 85 for the purpose of opposed dispel checks.

*Spellcasting*
Shomei cast spells as a 38th-level focused specialist Conjurer (4/10/10/9/9/9/9/8/8/8/6/6/5/5/5/5/4/4/4/4/3/3/3/3/2/2/2/2 spells per day). She may cast spells of up to 27th level. The Save DC is 41+ spell level, Conjurations 44+ Spell level. She gains a further +4 bonus to the CL and Save DC of any spell which provokes a Will saving throw, and a +6 bonus to penetrate any targets' spell resistance. Shomei may prepare an additional 3 Conjuration spells of every level. Her barred schools are Evocation, Necromancy and Illusion. Shomei has access to any nonepic spell on the sorcerer/wizard spell list. She does not incur attacks of opportunity if spellcasting when threatened. She may cast up to three quickened spells per round.
Shomei may also cast 3 epic spells per day. She gains a +5 bonus to Spellcraft checks when casting spells with a Conjuration base seed, and suffers a –15 penaly to all Spellcraft checks when casting spells which incorporate a Necromancy, Evocation or Illusion seed. She enjoys a –5 mitigating factor when developing spells which reflect her Infernal specialty.

*Spell Configuration: *If Shomei’s bonus conjurations are dedicated to attack spells, she favors quickened hellfire-substituted _acid storms_; if dedicated to callings, then _superior planar binding_.

*Magic Items:* _Headband of Intellect +10, Ring of Protection and Resistance +10, Arcane Bracelet, The Hazel Rod, Crystal Ball of Demands, Robe of Meteors, Trammel of Hell_

Soul Trapping Gems: Shomei possesses 10 black sapphires, each of 50,000gp value.

_*Arcane Bracelet (Major Artifact)*_
Whilst worn, this silver bracelet grants a +50 competence bonus to all Knowledge (arcana), Concentration and Spellcraft skill checks. Every day, the bracelet’s owner can recall up to 40 levels of spells that she has already cast during that day. Spells raised beyond 9th level by metamagic feats may be recalled, but Epic spells may not. If the spell recalled normally requires an expensive material component and/or an XP cost, the caster must meet these requirements as usual. Caster Level 40. 

_*Crystal Ball of Demands (Major Artifact)*_
This crystal ball with telepathy and true seeing allows its user to use the demand spell at will (Heightened to 25th level, DC 49). Caster Level 40. 

*Hazel Rod (Major Artifact)*
This rod strikes as a +_10 axiomatic unholy light mace _and provides a +4 bonus to the Caster Level and Save DC of any spell or spell-like ability used by its wielder which provokes a Will saving throw. As a standard action, the owner of the Hazel Rod may use _dominate monster _at will; the wielder uses his or her own caster level, ability score modifier and any relevant feats and salient divine abilities to determine the parameters of the effect, modified by the bonus provided by the rod itself. In Shomei's case, Caster Level is 41 and the Save DC is 52.

When used in conjunction with any _planar binding _spell to bind lawful evil outsiders, the Hazel Rod increases the number of Hit Dice possessed by eligible targets by +8; for example, the rod's wielder could bind a devil of up to 26HD with a _greater planar binding _spell. The rod confers a +6 circumstance bonus to any opposed Charisma checks involved in the binding process. Caster Level 40.

*Robe of Meteors [Major Artifact]*
This purplish-black robe displays a field of shooting stars which seem to constantly fall, blaze briefly into incandescence, and then vanish. It provides a +10 profane bonus to Armor Class and saving throws, immunity to bludgeoning and fire attacks, and grants a number of other abiities to its wearer in addition: 
•As a full-round action, the wearer can concentrate to increase the density of the meteor field within the robe. On the next round, and for as long as the wearer concentrates upon this effect, he or she benefits from an intensified spell turning effect, and is able to turn up to 40 levels of spells per round. There is no limit to the number of times per day this ability may be used. In order to turn epic level spells, a successful caster level check must be made.
•As a standard action, the wearer may grasp a falling star and hurl it as a _meteor swarm _(intensified, heightened to 30th-level, DC55). This ability is usable 3 times per day. 
•As a swift action, once per day, the wearer may make a meteoric leap, transforming himself or herself into a line up to 1200 feet long and moving instantaneously across the battlefield. The wearer can reappear in any space adjacent to the last space ended by the line with any gear worn or carried. The meteoric leap does 192 points of bludgeoning damage and 284 points of fire damage to all creatures along the line with no saving throw. Upon reaching the destination square, an intensified _meteor swarm _(heightened to 30th-level) explodes in a 40-ft. radius burst centered on the cloak's wearer. A Reflex saving throw (DC55) halves the damage. 
Caster Level 40. 

*Trammel of Hell [Paradigmatic Artifact] *
Crafted by the Adversary for the purpose of restraining the wyrm Qematiel, these shackles are constructed of Hellforged adamant and resize themselves to fit any creature of size diminutive to colossal, with any number of manacles becoming available for binding creatures with multiple limbs. The Trammel of Hell requires an Escape Artist check or Break DC of 100 to escape. Creatures bound with the trammel are subject to a dimensional anchor effect (Caster Level 75).[/sblock]
*Exchange Between Soneillon and Shomei*
[sblock]This is rendered for the purpose of the story in the Tongue of Shûth (Soneillon) and the ancient Borchian dialect (Shomei); at this point, Eadric knows only that _something has been communicated_:

Soneillon: “I cannot (bring myself to) harm you because you have seen the Sun as I do.”

Shomei: “If you refer to his potential to realize that Sovereignty, I understand. I saw that you have seen the thing which I have seen. And the other one? She sees?”

Soneillon: “She always has.”[/sblock]


----------



## Salthorae

... continued awe. 

Writing, dialogue, and story while getting far more complicated have all continued to improve so much over the last DECADE that you've enthralled us Sep!

Thanks for continuing to write the story for us fanatics.


----------



## Enkhidu

Sepulchrave II said:


> ...
> “But not before midsummer.” The demoness reached down, picked up the _Urn_, and smiled at Mostin.
> 
> “_Mine,_” she said.




My favorite part about this post is that the Soneillon wasn't talking about the _Urn_, and wasn't really talking to Mostin.


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## Bloodcookie

Like most great tragedies, we find this conflict was rooted in a critical misapprehension on the part of the heroes. Unlike many great tragedies, no one important died. Not permanently, anyway.


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## Baron Opal

Speaking of dying, are there any common-folk left?


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## Shieldhaven

I can't help but wonder - in a conflict of such barely-imaginable scale as this one, how much - if any - of the combat is resolved with die rolls and formal rules, as opposed to approximation and DM fiat?

If the former, how did you crunch the numbers and parse the rules in anything short of a solid week of work? I... kind of assume there was at least some of this, since you've gone to such painstaking effort to create stat blocks for every character involved.

If the latter, were there any questions of fairness in your fiat? (This ties back into wondering whether Shomei is effectively a PC or NPC at this stage.)

In either case, an amazing read!

Haven


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## Salthorae

I just went back and re-read the compiled story hour posts for this entire story and it is amazing to go back and re-read what has come before. 

also help me put more current posts into actual story context as I had forgotten much of what passed previously. 

I can't wait to see if Eadric manages to enkindle his Flame to its full potential and what effect hat would have on the world!!


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## Guilberwood

I'm in awe, as usual. Once again, thanks Sep for this amazing story. I've been following it for 10 years and would gladlly follow it for another 10.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Unemployed Devils*

Two unemployed devils of somewhat different magnitude, but both rather focused on social manipulation and interaction, and both advocates of an infernal negotiation with _saizhan_. Yeqon is typical of a fallen seraph, insofar as those powers which he has clawed back (the Hellish mysteries) are of less magnitude than those previously granted to him at his creation; an unfallen Yeqon would be around CR 50.

*Nercamay*
[sblock]*Nercamay*

*Size/Type:* Medium Outsider (Evil, Extraplanar, Lawful)
*Hit Dice:* 18d8+96 (177 hp)
*Initiative:* +4
*Speed:* 40ft.
*Armor Class:* 40 (+12 deflection, +8 Dex, +10 natural), touch 30, flat-footed 32
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +18/+22
*Attack:* Melee touch +18 or ranged touch +26
*Space/Reach:* 10 ft./10 ft.
*Special Attacks:* Spell-like abilities
*Special Qualities:* Change shape, damage reduction 10/silver and good, darkvision 60 ft., immunity to fire and poison, infernal grace, infernal inspiration, lore, regeneration 5, resistance to acid 10 and cold 10, see in darkness, spell resistance 30, telepathy 100ft.
*Saves:* Fort +34, Ref +36, Will +33
*Abilities:* Str 18, Dex 27, Con  23, Int 40, Wis 22, Cha 34
*Skills:* Appraise +36 (related Craft skills +38), Bluff +43, Concentration +27, Craft (calligraphy) +36, Craft (painting) +39, Craft (sculpture) +36, Diplomacy +54, Gather Inforamtion +43, Hide +29, Knowledge (arcana) +36, Knowledge (architecture) +36, Knowledge (history) +36, Knowledge (nature) +36, Knowledge (nobility) +36, Knowledge (religion) +36, Listen +27, Move Silently +29, Perform (all) +41, Profession (companion) +30, Search +36, Sense Motive +27, Spellcraft +38, Spot +27
*Feats:* Master Manipulator, Negotiator, Obscure Lore, Skill Focus (Craft: painting), Skill Focus (Diplomacy), Skill Focus (Profession: companion), Versatile Performer
*Challenge Rating:* 18

Nercamay – known as the Companion – is an infernal muse. She appears as a tall, alluring devil with olive skin and violet eyes, wearing a white peplos and with her hair gathered in ornate arrangement. Only the closest inspection or magic will reveal her devilish nature. Of calm and gentle demeanor, Nercamay is a sophisticated aesthete with a broad range of artistic gifts and intellectual interests; she has inspired numerous works of art and literature. When not tempting mortals, her skills were much sought after; she has acted in the capacity of companion for many infernal magnates. 

As one of the Servants of the Four Kings, Nercamay may move through any region where they hold sway; Nercamay was on Dis acting as companion to Count Merodach when the _I_ migrated and Hell retreated, and thus retains her diabolic type. She was subsequently conjured from the prior infinity by Shomei the Infernal.

*Change Shape (Sp): *Nercamay can assume the shape of any small or medium humanoid.
*Infernal Grace (Su): *Nercamay gains a deflection bonus to her armor class and a profane bonus to her saving throws equal to her Charisma modifier.
*Infernal Inspiration (Su): *As a standard action, Nercamay may grant a +4 profane bonus to any willing creature’s next Craft, Knowledge or Perform check.
*Lore (Ex): *Nercamay may make a bardic knowledge check as though she were an 18th level bard. She makes such checks with a +39 bonus. 
*Regeneration (Ex): *Nercamay takes normal damage from silvered good-aligned weapons and from spells with the good descriptor.
*Spell-Like Abilities:* At will – _bestow curse_ (DC 26), _bolts of bedevilment_ (DC27), _charm person_ (DC23), _combined talent, dream, greater teleport, insight of good fortune, probe thoughts_ (DC 28), _share talents, suggestion_ (DC 25); 1/day – _divine insight, hindsight, solipsism_ (DC 29). Caster level 18th. The Save DCs are Charisma-based.

*Possessions*
_Fibula:_ Nercamay’s brooch, in the form of a platinum swallow with gem-set eyes, grants a +5 resistance bonus to saving throws and allows the wearer to use a _moment of prescience_ once per day to gain a +15 insight bonus on any d20 attack roll, skill check, saving throw or opposed ability check (CL15; 85,000gp)
_Comb:_ An amber comb worn by Nercamay confers a +10 circumstance bonus on all Charisma-related skill checks. (CL15; 50,000gp)[/sblock]

*Yeqon*
[sblock]
*Yeqon, the Fifth Prosecutor*

*Size/Type:* Huge Outsider (Evil, Extraplanar, Lawful)
*Hit Dice: *44d8+880 (1232 hp)
*Initiative:* +21
*Speed:* 100 ft., fly 300 ft. (perfect)
*Armor Class:* 70 (-2 size, +10 armor, +15 deflection, +13 Dex, +24 natural), touch 39, flat-footed 60
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +44/+74
*Attack:* +70 (3d6+28/19-20, _+6 hellforged adamantine flaming burst wounding longsword_)
*Full Attack:* +70/+65/+60/+55 (3d6+28/19-20, _+6 hellforged adamantine flaming burst wounding longsword_)
*Space/Reach:* 15 ft./15 ft.
*Special Attacks:* Hellfire, spell-like abilities, spells
*Special Qualities:* Change shape, damage reduction 20/epic and good, darkvision 60 ft.,devilish aura, frightful presence, immunity to fire and poison, protective aura, regeneration 20, resistance to acid 10 and cold 10, spell resistance 57, telepathy 100ft.
*Saves:* Fort +49, Ref +42, Will +43
*Abilities:* Str 54, Dex 37, Con  51, Int 40, Wis 38, Cha 40
*Skills:* Bluff +68, Concentration +67, Decipher Script +62, Diplomacy +123, Escape Artist +60, Gather Information +66, Hide +52, Intimidate +72, Knowledge (arcana) +62, Knowledge (history) +62, Knowledge (nature) +66, Knowledge (nobility) +62, Knowledge (the planes) +62, Knowledge (religion) +75, Listen +61, Move Silently +60, Perform (oratory) +106, Profession (lawyer) +61, Search +62, Sense Motive +93, Spellcraft +66, Spot +61, Survival +61
*Feats:* Cleave, Dire Charge, Dodge, Epic Reputation, Epic Skill Focus (Diplomacy), Epic Skill Focus (Knowledge: Religion), Epic Skill Focus (Perform: Oratory), Great Cleave, Improved Initiative, Improved Sunder, Mobility, Negotiator, Persuasive, Power Attack, Skill Focus (Diplomacy), Skill Focus (Knowledge: Religion), Superior Initiative
*Challenge Rating:* 45

Yeqon, the Fifth Prosecutor, is a fallen seraph who was instrumental in the early stages of the Great Revolt in the prior infinity, and one who remained closest to the Nameless Fiend after the Fall. Although his physical participation in the events on the Blessed Plain was minimal, Yeqon bears a large responsibility for the incitement and corruption of many lesser celestials. As with other episeme solars who retained much of their former dignity – Prosecutors and Antagonists – Yeqon has occupied himself with the strategic and philosophical aspects of the war against the Celestial Host and the advocacy of the antinomian viewpoint. He is a devil of great gravitas.

Yeqon appears a black-winged celestial of unmistakeably infernal demeanor, clad in a dark tunic and bearing a long, slender blade at his waist. He is a massive fiend, standing some fifteen feet tall and weighing around two tons.

Yeqon’s natural weapons, as well as any weapons he wields, are treated as evil- aligned, lawful-aligned and epic for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction.

*Exalted and Cast Down (Ex):* As a former seraph, Yeqon retains many benefits enjoyed by exalted celestials; others are lost to him in punishment for his actions.

_Insight Denied_: Yeqon loses his insight bonus to armor class and attack rolls
_Stripped of Divinity_: Yeqon loses divine spellcasting power and spell-like abilities which would otherwise be of a level equal to his hit dice. Divine elemental power is also lost. He gains Hellish mysteries in place of these abilities.
_Elemental Vulnerability_: The total elemental invulnerability enjoyed by exalted celestials is replaced by normal diabolic resistances and immunities
_Grace Withdrawn:_ Yeqon loses the Charisma bonus to his saves from which episemes normally benefit; his SR is reduced to CR +12; he cannot smite, _commune_ or turn undead.
*Hellish Mysteries*
*Devilish Aura (Su):* Yeqon can activate this as a free action. It acts as a double strength _magic circle against good_ (Caster Level 22nd). The aura can be dispelled, but Yeqon can create it again as a free action on his turn. 
*Frightful Presence (Ex)*: Yeqon can unsettle foes with his mere presence. Creatures within a radius of 120 feet are subject to the effect if they have fewer HD than Yeqon. A potentially affected creature that succeeds on a Will save (DC 47) remains immune to his presence for 24 hours. On a failure, creatures with 4 or less HD become panicked for 4d6 rounds and those with 5 or more HD become shaken for 4d6 rounds. 
*Hellfire Wielder (Ex):* If Yeqon uses any spell or spell-like ability which delivers fire damage, half of that damage is considered profane damage and is not subject to resistances or immunities
*Infernal Spellcasting:* Yeqon casts arcane spells as a 22nd-level sorcerer. He may cast spells from the Darkness, Domination and Evil domains as arcane spells
*Spell-Like Abilities:* At will—_animate objects, blasphemy_ (DC 32), _continual flame, dimensional anchor, greater dispel magic, unholy blight_ (DC 29), _imprisonment_ (DC 34), _invisibility_ (self only), _resist energy, speak with dead_ (DC 28), _waves of fatigue_; 3/day— _earthquake_ (DC 33), _mass charm monster_ (DC 33); 1/day—_power word blind, power word kill, power word stun, wish_. Caster level 22nd. The save DCs are Charisma-based.

*Change Shape (Su):* Yeqon can assume the form of any Small or Medium humanoid. 
*Fast Healing (Ex):* Yeqon has fast healing 20. 
*Ongoing Effects (Sp):* The following abilities are always active on Yeqon’s person, as the spells (caster level 22nd): _detect good, detect snares and pits, discern lies_ (DC 29), _see invisibility, true seeing_. They can be dispelled, but Yeqon can reactivate them as a free action on his turn.
*Planar Travel (Su):* Yeqon may move between any two planes. Treat this ability as a _plane shift_ except that Yeqon can only transport himself and his equipment and he never arrives off-destination. 
*Regeneration (Ex):* Yeqon has regeneration 20. Epic good-aligned weapons and good-aligned spells do normal damage to the fallen seraph. 
*Teleport (Su):* Yeqon can use _greater teleport_ at will as the spell. He can transport only himself and his equipment. 

*Spellcasting*
Yeqon casts spells as a 22nd-level sorcerer (6/10/10/10/9/9/9/9/8/8 spells per day; Save DC 25+ spell level). Relevant pells known: 
4th – _attune form, finger of agony_ (DC 29), _voice of the dragon, wall of fire_ (DC 29), 
5th – _fire and brimstone _(DC 30), _magic jar _(DC 30), _nightmare _(DC 30), _permanency_
6th – _greater fireburst_ (DC 31),_ interplanar telepathic bond, make manifest_ (DC 31)
7th – _finger of death_ (DC 32), _reverse gravity_ (DC 32), _vision_ 
8th – _discern location, mind blank, unholy aura_ (DC 33)
9th – _monstrous thrall_ (DC 34), _shades_ (DC 34), _soul bind_ (DC 34) 

_*Equipment:* Yeqon’s sword, Voice of Reason, Black Robe of Cocytus_

_Yeqon’s Sword:_ This weapon is a lawful evil _+6 hellforged adamantine flaming burst wounding longsword_
_Voice of Reason:_ The talisman of Yeqon confers a +30 competence bonus to all Diplomacy, Sense Motive and Perform (oratory) skill checks. The wearer can use _mass suggestion_ at will (caster level 20th)
_Black Robe of Cocytus:_ This unadorned robe grants a +10 armor bonus to AC and a +5 resistance bonus to saving throws[/sblock]


----------



## Salthorae

I love the crunch that we get along with a fabulous story! Thanks Sep for continuing to share stats and story with us

[MENTION=141]Cheiromancer[/MENTION] & Starman - hmm, 856 pages explains why it took me a while to read!! Didn't think it would be that long when I started it over...


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Irel*
[sblock]Irel, Who Smites, formerly First Prince of the Sixth Choir. Irel is renowned for his martial prowess, extraordinary eyesight, physical beauty and – previously – his generosity of spirit; some special measure of grace prevented his complete perdition: the only remaining episeme of the first Dark Choir as seduced by the Adversary, Irel abides in a liminal space between celestial and devil. He is variously described as ‘half-fallen’ or ‘fallen without sin.’

Most of the benefits afforded to exalted celestials are retained by Irel, although a few are recast along the law/chaos axis as opposed to the good/evil axis; there is resonance between Irel and the two meditations (_Fultum_, succor and _Anto_, wrath) which were revealed to the _Ahma_ during his first death. Irel has a particular loyalty to Shomei which goes beyond that of a compacted devil, being both her favorite 'devilish lover' and one sympathetic to her particular vision of the _I_. 

Irel has one item: his mace.


*Irel, Who Smites*

*Size/Type:* Large Outsider (Augmented, Celestial, Extraplanar, Lawful)
*Hit Dice:* 30d8+450 (690hp)
*Initiative:* +14
*Speed:* 100 ft., fly 200 ft. (perfect)
*Armor Class:* 65 (-1 size, +17 deflection, +10 Dex, +12 insight, +17 natural), touch 48, flat-footed 55
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +30/+65
*Attack:* +69 (2d6+36/19-20 +3d6 sonic, _+8 speed thundering blast heavy mace_)
*Full Attack:* +69/+69/+64/+59/+54 (2d6+36/19-20 +3d6 sonic, _+8 speed thundering blast heavy mace_)
*Space/Reach:* 10 ft./10 ft.
*Special Attacks:* Divine elemental power, intuitive strikes, smite chaos, spell-like abilities, spells, stun
*Special Qualities:* Change shape, damage reduction 20/epic and adamantine and chaotic, darkvision 60 ft., death ward, elemental invulnerability, immunities (petrification, poison and sleep), linked minds, low light vision, protective aura, regeneration 15, see in darkness, spell resistance 55, tongues, uncanny dodge.
*Saves:* Fort +49, Ref +44, Will +46
*Abilities:* Str 49, Dex 31, Con  40, Int 31, Wis 35, Cha 44
*Skills:* Balance +47, Concentration +48, Diplomacy +54, Disguise +27, Escape Artist +43, Hide +39, Intimidate +50, Jump +84, Knowledge (history) +43, Knowledge (nature) +47, Knowledge (religion) +43, Knowledge (the planes) +43, Listen +45, Move Silently +43, Sense Motive +45,  Search +73, Spot +75, Survival +45 (+49 following tracks or on other planes), Tumble +47
*Feats:* Cleave, Combat Brute, Devastating Critical (heavy mace), Dire Charge, Great Cleave, Improved Bull Rush, Improved Critical (heavy mace), Improved Initiative, Improved Sunder, Overwhelming Critical (heavy mace), Power Attack, Shock Trooper, Track, Weapon Focus (heavy mace)
*Challenge Rating:* 41

Irel appears as a statuesque deva-devil around eight feet tall and weighing some 600 pounds. Natural weapons and weapons wielded by Irel are considered epic and lawful-aligned for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction. Irel wields his mace two-handed.

*Change Shape (Su):* Irel can assume the shape of any small or medium humanoid. He gains a +10 circumstance bonus on any Disguise checks he makes when using this ability.
*Death Ward (Ex):* Attacks with the death descriptor and negative energy attacks have no effect upon Irel.
*Devastating Critical:* Creatures who sustain a critical hit from Irel’s mace must make a Fortitude save (DC 44) or die.
*Divine Elemental Power:* When Irel uses a spell or spell-like abilitiy with an energy descriptor, all damage from such spells or abilities is considered divine in nature for the purpose of bypassing resistances and immunities; target creatures who possess a special vulnerabiliy to a particular energy type still retain it.
*Extraordinary Vision (Ex):* Irel gains a +30 insight bonus to all Spot and Search checks. He can see perfectly in darkness, even that created by magical effects.
*Fast Healing (Ex):* Irel has fast healing 20. 
*Grace (Su):* Irel gains a bonus to his Saving Throws equal to his Charisma modifier. This is already reflected in his stat block
*Intuitive Strikes (Ex):* All of Irel’s attacks (including grapple attacks) gain a +12 insight modifier. These are included in his stat block.
*Linked Minds (Su):* Irel is in continual telepathic communion with any other celestials within 300 ft., and never need use verbal communication with another celestial within range. If part of a group of 3 or more, he is never surprised.
*Planar Travel (Su):* Irel may move between any two planes. Treat this ability as a _plane shift_ except that Irel can only transport himself and his equipment and he never arrives off-destination. 
*Protective Aura (Su):* Irel can activate this as a free action. It acts as a double strength _magic circle against chaos_ and a _lesser globe invulnerability_ with a 20-ft. radius ( caster level 30th). The aura can be dispelled, but Irel can create it again as a free action on his turn. 
*Regeneration (Ex):* Irel has regeneration 15. Epic chaotic-aligned weapons and chaotic-aligned spells do normal damage to Irel. 
*Smite Chaos (Su):* Irel automatically makes all attacks as if they were smite attempts.  Against chaotic creatures, Irel gains a +17 bonus on his attack rolls and deals an extra 30 points of damage.
*Spell-Like Abilities:* At will—_aid, axiomatic smite_ (DC 31), _continual flame, cure light wounds_ (DC 28), _detect chaos, dictum_ (DC 34), _discern lies_ (DC 31), _dispel chaos_ (DC 32), _greater dispel magic, greater invisibility_ (self only), _remove curse_ (DC 30), _remove disease_ (DC 30), _remove fear_ (DC 28), _shield of law_ (DC 35); 1/day—_blade barrier_ (DC 33), _heal_ (DC 33). Caster level 30th. The save DCs are Charisma-based.
*Stun (Su):* If Irel strikes an opponent twice in one round with his mace, that creature must succeed on a DC 44 Fortitude save or be stunned for 1d6 rounds. The save DC is Strength-based.
*Teleport (Su):* Irel can use _greater teleport_ at will as the spell. He can transport only himself and his equipment. 
*True Seeing (Ex):* This ability is always active to the limit of Irel’s vision.
*Uncanny Dodge (Ex):* Irel retains his Dexterity bonus to AC when flat-footed, and cannot be flanked except by a rogue of at least 34th level. He can flank characters with the uncanny dodge ability as if he were a 30th-level rogue.

*Spellcasting*
Irel casts spells as a 30th-level favored soul (6/11/10/10/10/9/9/9/9/9 spells per day; Save DC 22+ spell level). Irel has access to spells from the Liberation, Protection, Renewal and Wrath domains. Irel never needs to use foci or material components in his spallcasting. Spells known: 

1st – _axiomatic water, deathwatch, omen of peril, protection from chaos/evil/good/law, rhino ’s rush, sign_
2nd – _align weapon, divine insight, enthrall, shatter_ (DC 24), _shield other, stretch weapon_
3rd – _alter fortune_ (DC 25) _attune form, ghost touch weapon, knight’s move, mass conviction, tremor_ (DC 25)
4th – _dimensional anchor, divination, freedom of movement, revenance, wall of law_ (DC 26), _wrack_ (DC 26)
5th – _flame strike_ (DC 27), _hold monster_ (DC 27), _indomitability, major creation, meteoric strike_ (DC 27), _righteous might_
6th – _animate objects, antimagic field, banishment_ (DC 28),_find the path, opalescent glare_ (DC 28), _superior resistance_
7th – _control weather, destruction_ (DC 29), _greater restoration, mass spell resistance, radiant assault_ (DC 29) 
8th – _ discern location, earthquake, lion’s roar (DC 30), mind blank, fire storm_ (DC 30)
9th – _freedom_, _implosion_ (DC 31), _storm of vengeance_ (DC 31), _unbinding_ 

_*Equipment:* +8 speed thundering blast heavy mace_[/sblock]


----------



## Cheiromancer

I'm glad Irel survived. It was kind of sad seeing how many of Shomei's devils fell, although I suppose the world is safer for it. I presume they are permanently gone, not merely returned to prior infinity? 

Eadric's death- I don't remember a previous one, but nor do I recall succor and wrath. Can anyone help me out?  (Maybe it is time for me to reread the story...!)


----------



## grodog

Cheiromancer said:


> Eadric's death- I don't remember a previous one, but nor do I recall succor and wrath. Can anyone help me out?  (Maybe it is time for me to reread the story...!)




IIRC, he's died twice before now?


----------



## Rackhir

Cheiromancer said:


> I'm glad Irel survived. It was kind of sad seeing how many of Shomei's devils fell, although I suppose the world is safer for it. I presume they are permanently gone, not merely returned to prior infinity?
> 
> Eadric's death- I don't remember a previous one, but nor do I recall succor and wrath. Can anyone help me out?  (Maybe it is time for me to reread the story...!)




Twice actually IIRC. Pg 10



> Shvar Choryati encroched. Now it phased nearby in contempt of the Quiescence of the Spheres, first here and then there, slaying hundreds each time it appeared; half at random, but always closer, as if some instinct drew it obliquely inwards.
> 
> Nwm stilled his thought and considered his options. He observed its pattern, and pondered.
> 
> "You will not escape it," Nwm spoke to the Sela. "No magic can speed you fast enough now; all has been stilled. It hungers for you, albeit circuitously; it is does not perceive the route to you in linear fashion. Many are dying as it seeks you; we may never recover them. It will eat everything near you. Will you trust me and do as I say?" Nwm asked.
> 
> "Yes," Tramst replied. Even in the darkness, Nwm knew that his expression was open.
> 
> Nwm reached out and felt the Sela's helm, and placed a hand on either side.
> 
> "Invoke her," the Preceptor said.
> 
> "Nehael," Tramst whispered. A supplication.
> 
> "Rest until the morning. I will wake you at sunrise." With a strong twist, Nwm snapped the Sela's neck.
> 
> His death passed unnoticed by all except the Darkness.
> 
> Become an enormous hunting cat, Nwm bounded north and west. Two minutes later, beyond the range of Prahar's invocation, he assumed the form of a great eagle, and powered his way away, in search of a likely refuge.
> 
> Meanwhile, the void turned its attention to the brightest remaining source of light.




When they were fighting the evil cabal. Visuit the demi-goddess IIRC.

Pg.11



> With three mighty strokes, Visuit dropped the Ahma like a stone, whirled her blade over her head, and clove into Ortwine, driving her backwards in a daze. With a back-handed swipe she slew Tahl the Incorruptible – who was moving to revivify Eadric – as an afterthought. Mostin had resorted to magic missiles which pulsed into the goddess.




Bad couple of pages for Eadric.


----------



## Solarious

It's when Visuit attacked Furamil with her immortals; where Nwm got one shot, got saved by Ortwine retroactively, then one shot again after he smacked her with a spontaneous transvalent ritual fwoosh.

After which, before his Resurrection, Tramst let Eadric 'choose two' from seven (times seven unnumbered times). Fultum and Anto turn out to be certain meditations; their Sovereign manifestations are stated up in the Legacy thread where Sep used to post stats.


----------



## Quartz

Baron Opal said:


> Speaking of dying, are there any common-folk left?




There's Nwm.

And now that she's experienced _saizhan_, is Nercamay strictly Evil?


----------



## Baron Opal

I have difficulty considering Nwm, who dropped a bolide upon an elder abomination, "common-folk".

Then again, he may very well be as only people of his stature have survived to this point. It's all relative, I suppose.


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## Salthorae

Quartz said:


> There's Nwm.
> 
> And now that she's experienced _saizhan_, is Nercamay strictly Evil?




Shomei has experienced Saizhan, but I have to believe that she is currently Evil...

i would agree with the Baron... no way that Nwm is "normal" now. He might not be a Pseudonatural Spellwarped Demigod like Mostin or Eadric, but he is dropping comets on Divine Emanations and _teaching_ gods. 

Normal would be a commoner, etc. 

Morne doesn't really have any normal people left IFAIK though because of the Mass Resurrection done, they all came back with some celestial templates I think.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Soneillon doesn't appear particularly evil, either. Not like Surab- remember how he tormented Iua, drawing her into madness and evil... _breaking_ her? (I looked it up- the post was from 06-25-06, page 8 of the compilation thread.)

I can't recall Soneillon doing anything like that. But I've forgotten a lot.


----------



## Bloodcookie

Cheiromancer said:


> Soneillon doesn't appear particularly evil, either. Not like Surab- remember how he tormented Iua, drawing her into madness and evil... _breaking_ her? (I looked it up- the post was from 06-25-06, page 8 of the compilation thread.)
> 
> I can't recall Soneillon doing anything like that. But I've forgotten a lot.




We haven't seen her do the like on-camera, but remember Throile, and what she presided over - from October 2003:


> But you should be warned: there are things here which you would regard as obscene, debased and insane. You are likely to be offended."
> 
> "I’ve come this far," Eadric pointed out. "I will reserve judgement."
> 
> "It will still shake you to your core."
> 
> Eadric found that she was right. The suffering there knew no limits, and the pleasure derived by those who inflicted it was transient, grotesque and depraved.
> It was, after all, the Abyss.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Common Folk*

As someone inquired…actually a real spoiler.
[sblock]

Nwm, somewhat – but not too far – ahead of the SH as of most recent Feb 2012 update and contemporaneous with Eadric’s initial enkindlement. Nwm remains human, and has shunned divinity for himself; it’s a kind of existential statement on his part – in all senses, Nwm retains his humanity and becomes the _ultimate man_ as opposed to some cocktail of templates and outsider or fey HD. He does get the paragon template to make up for it. Inherent bonuses, of course. I gave up tracking wild shape uses/day, as past a certain large number it just doesn’t matter; I just assume that he can do it whenever he wants. Total spellcasting spontaneity is also available to Nwm; the emphasis on the Moment is brought to full realization.

Some retraining is always assumed; most of the eligible exalted bonus feats are dropped (as the selection is useless to Nwm). Saving throw bonus feats (the Iron Will etc. family) are instead substituted. The good thing about Nwm is that his gear is never a problem.

Nwm’s CR at this point is pegged nominally at 57, although I’m not sure how accurate that actually is.

*Nwm the Preceptor*
Paragon Human Male Druid (Ascetic) 40

*Hit Dice:* 40d8+640+480 (1440hp)
*Initiative:* +19
*Speed:* 90ft.
*Armor Class:* 73 (+15 Dex, +5 natural, +6 deflection, +13 exalted, +12 insight, +12 luck); flat-footed 58, touch 68
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +25/+66
*Attack:* +80 melee (1d6+52, quarterstaff)
*Full Attack:* +80/+75/+70 melee (1d6+52, quarterstaff)
*Space/Reach:* 5ft./5ft.
*Special Attacks:* Intuitive attack, spells, spell-like abilities
*Special Qualities:* Damage reduction 25/epic and evil, exalted strike, fast healing 20, freedom of movement, greater sustenance, mind shielding, nature sense, negative energy immunity, resistances (acid, cold, electricity, fire and sonic 30), resistance +7, resist nature’s lure, SR 82, thousand faces, timeless body, total sponataneity, trackless step, true seeing, venom immunity, wild empathy, wild shape, woodland stride
*Saves:* Fort +61 Ref +52 Will +62
*Abilities:* Str 42 Dex 40 Con 42 Int 43 Wis 52 Cha 45
*Skills:* Balance +48, Concentration +69, Craft (alchemy) +69, Craft (leatherworker) +69, Diplomacy +74, Gather Information +48, Handle Animal +70, Heal +74, Jump +73, Knowledge (arcana) +47, Knowledge (geography) +47, Knowledge (nature) +75, Listen +74, Profession (herbalist) +74, Ride +69, Sense Motive +74, Spellcraft +71, Spot +74, Survival +76 (+80 above ground), Swim +69, Tumble +48
*Feats:* Animal Friend, Eschew Material Components, Great Fortitude, Heighten Spell,  Improved Initiative, Intuitive Attack, Iron Will, Lightning Reflexes, Natural Spell, Run, Sacred Vow, Snatch, Track, Vow of Poverty, Weapon Focus (Quarterstaff).
*Epic Feats:* Autoimmolator, Backlash Mastery, Colossal Wild Shape, Dire Charge, Dragon Wild Shape, Epic Fortitude, Epic Spellcasting, Gargantuan Wild Shape, Ignore Material Components, Improved Heighten Spell, Improved Spell Capacity (10th, 11th, 12th), Spontaneous Epic Caster

*Spells* 
Nwm casts spells as a 40th level Druid (6/11/10/10/10/10/9/9/9/9/4/4/4; save DC 44+ spell level, CL 40th). Nwm may also cast four epic spells per day, provided that their adjusted DC is 0 or less: these spells are devised and cast spontaneously, with no development cost. Nwm can use XP or up to 120d6 backlash to mitigate against epic spells which he casts: he ignores the first 40d6 points of backlash damage in this case. Nwm need not prepare nonepic spells; he may spontaneously cast any spell on the Druid class list. Save DCs are Wisdom-based and include a +13 paragon bonus.

*Buoyant Reservoir (Ex): *Nwm enjoys a weekly 10,000xp cushion to his reservoir.
*Exalted Strike (Su): *Nwm gains a +8 enhancement bonus to attack and damage rolls whilst using any weapon. His staff is considered adamantine, cold iron, epic, good-aligned and silver for the purpose of overcoming a creature’s damage reduction. Nwm can strike incorporeal creatures as though his weapon possessed the ghost strike special ability.
*Foresight (Su): *Nwm is under a permanent _foresight_ effect (as the spell, CL 40). He is never surprised or flat-footed.
*Freedom of Movement (Ex):* Nwm acts as if constantly under the effects of a _freedom of movement _spell.
*Intuitive Attack (Ex): *Nwm uses his Wisdom modifier in place of his Strength modifier for determining his attack bonus with melee weapons.
*Greater Sustenance (Ex): *Nwm does not need to eat, drink or breathe.
*Mind Blank (Su): *Nwm is always under the effects of a _mind blank_, as the spell (CL 40th).
*Mind Shielding (Ex): *Nwm is immune to _detect thoughts, discern lies _and any attempt to discern his alignment.
*Negative Energy Immunity (Ex): *Nwm is immune to negative energy effects such as _energy drain _and _enervation_.
*Resist Nature’s Lure (Ex): *Nwm gains a +4 bonus on saving throws against the spell-like abilities of fey.
*Scrying (Sp): *Nwm can use _greater scrying _at will as the spell (save DC 47). The save DC is Charisma-based and includes a +13 paragon bonus. Caster level 55th.
*SLAs*: 3/day - _greater dispel magic _and _haste_ (CL 15th)
*A Thousand Faces (Su): *Nwm has the ability to change his appearance at will, as if using the _disguise self _spell, but only while in his normal form.
*Timeless Body (Ex): *Nwm does not take ability score penalties for aging and cannot be magically aged.
*Total Spontaneity: *Nwm may cast any spell on the Druid class list without preparation. 
*Trackless Step (Ex): *Nwm leaves no trail in natural surroundings and cannot be tracked. He may choose to leave a trail if so desired.
*True Seeing (Su): *Nwm has a continuous _true seeing _ability, as the spell. (CL 40th)
*Venom Immunity (Ex): *Nwm is immune to all poisons.
*Wild Empathy (Ex): *Nwm can improve the attitude of an animal. This ability functions just like a Diplomacy check made to improve the attitude of a person. He rolls 1d20+70 to determine the wild empathy check result. He can also use this ability to influence a magical beast with an Intelligence score of 1 or 2, but he takes a –4 penalty on the check if the creature is nongood. His modifier includes a +13 paragon bonus.
*Wild Shape (Su): *Nwm has the ability to turn himself into any animal, plant, elemental or dragon of size tiny to colossal. This ability functions like the polymorph spell, and the effect lasts for up to 40 hours, or until he changes back. Changing form (to animal or back) is a standard action and doesn’t provoke an attack of opportunity. The new form’s Hit Dice can’t exceed Nwm’s Druid level.
*Woodland Stride (Ex): *Nwm may move through any sort of undergrowth (such as natural thorns, briars, overgrown areas, and similar terrain) at normal speed and without taking damage or suffering any other impairment. Thorns, briars, and overgrown areas that have been magically manipulated to impede motion still affect him.

*Possessions: *mistletoe, quarterstaff, robe.

Nwm’s beard is not counted amongst his possessions.[/sblock]


----------



## carborundum

Wow. Nice of you to let that slide with the beard. That's the sign of a truly excellent DM.


----------



## Salthorae

Hey Sep!

Wondering if you guys had tweaked Nwm's Vow of Poverty from this version? 

Nwm's VoP

Also - Backlash Mastery Feat?

EDIT: Carborundum - there's a huge amount of that thread that I've completely forgotten! I've been thinking about compiling so we have a concise place for all the Character Bio's as well as the Story Hour that Cheiromancer keeps updated for us!


----------



## Erevanden

Hey Sep !

I was wondering if the npc's such as Rede, Tozinak, Daunton, Rimilin, Yeshe or Orm evolve (eg. gain levels, templates, etc.) behind the scenes as the campaign progresses ?


----------



## Quartz

Have you got his attack right? Intuitive Attack allows him to use his Wisdom Bonus, not his Wisdom Stat, so he'd only get +21.


----------



## Quartz

Baron Opal said:


> I have difficulty considering Nwm, who dropped a bolide upon an elder abomination, "common-folk".




But he's still human. Unlike Mostin etc.


----------



## Baron Opal

Quartz said:


> But he's still human. Unlike Mostin etc.



Good point. And, a rather remarkable achievement considering his peers.

I was expecting a Green Man - style evolution for him. The Adversary needed that escape route, I guess.

Re: Orm... The name sounds familliar, but I don't remember his place in the story.


----------



## Erevanden

> You must spread some Experience Points around before giving it to Sepulchrave II again




I really hate this, you know 

Thanks a lot for the quick explanation Sepulchrave !!



> Re: Orm... The name sounds familliar, but I don't remember his place in the story.




Orm is Eadric's brother, most recently evacuating common folk from Deorham, due to Soneillon's prolonged "visit"...

P.S. Sepulchrave, I hope there WILL come a "convenient time" for you to post Dhatri, Idyam, Choach, Naatha, Rishih, Anumid (if he evolved in any way), Yeshe and Rimilin (after their stay in Qinthei), and especially Prahar in statblock/brief description/motivation format ??


----------



## grodog

Erevanden said:


> I really hate this, you know




I'd love you to help you out, but...


----------



## Soramain

Re: Rimilin.  I was re-reading the last few months of posts today and I noticed that when Nehael incarnated red, Teppu said that "the womb of Qinthei was closed."  Isn't that where Rimilin and Yeshe, possibly among others, were waiting until they had a compelling reason to leave?  Where did they go?


----------



## grodog

Le bump!


----------



## grodog

Post-GaryCon *B*-*U*-*M*-*P*!


----------



## grodog

Easter bump!


----------



## Quartz

I've just been rereading and came across this:



Cheiromancer said:


> “Eadric’s problem,” Ortwine opined, “is that he cannot relate to women.




Might not much the same might be said about Nwm? And Mostin? Neither have dallied. Nwm, as an ascetic, by choice; and Mostin through his single-minded pursuit of knowledge (and perforce now, as with his monstrous true form, what normal woman would have him?) hasn't made time.

Eadric cannot, Nwm will not, and Mostin's not bothered.

So it really does all boil down to sex.


----------



## Nightbreeze

I cannot express how grateful I am towards Sep for continuing the updates on this thread which I have followed for 7-8 years (and it's been an inspiration for my epic campaign for 5 years).

Thanks Sep! If I ever see a conclusion on this, it will be the greatest saga I've ever read!

edit> not that it already isn't.


----------



## Erevanden

Hmmm...Post-Easter Bump


----------



## Sepulchrave II

[sblock]This was the hardest update I have ever written. I'm still not happy with it.[/sblock]


*Effluxion – Part 1: Annihilation  *



[Nehael/_Eleos_]: Soneillon…

[Soneillon]: …


**


Nehael shot.

Eadric sat upon the rampart of the outer defense at Galda with his back against the parapet and regarded her. She had been standing in the same position for more than nine hours, discharging arrows with an unwavering rhythm which seemed to measure time itself. The goddess had loosed thirty-three thousand and eleven missiles; she had killed thirty-three thousand and eleven ghouls: Nehael herself included the Abyssal type, ghasts and bonedrinkers – as well as several more obscure varieties of undead – in the rather broad category of _ghoul_. Eadric could not see the ghouls which Nehael had targeted; they were more than five miles away.

“Don’t you get bored?” He asked.

Her pace slowed; she drew a single arrow and released it. At the limit of his hearing, an _earthquake_ rumbled. She resumed her previous rhythm.

“That would seem a more effective strategy,” he observed.

“It is,” she replied. “But I do not wish to create a fault zone.”

“Exactly how many are there, altogether?” Eadric inquired.

“Altogether?” Her measure did not falter. “About fifteen million. Coming this way? Only around four.”

“Fifteen _million_?”

“That’s just the ghouls,” Nehael continued shooting. “The vampires, spectres, wraiths and other heliophobes remain under the _Pall of Dhatri_ for the time being; as soon as its magic fails and they find safe holes, they will begin to migrate north and operate by night.”

“Safe holes?”

“Villages which have been evacuated and overrun,” Nehael explained.

“But why such enormous numbers?” Eadric asked. 

She smiled, but the tempo of her archery remained unchanged. “The Thalassine was a rich and populous region, Eadric; now everyone is _dead_.” As her bowstring hummed, the last word was spoken with what may have been anger: an emotion which Eadric could not recall Nehael having before evinced. 

Ten thousand yards away, a ghoul dropped to the ground, its throat pierced by an arrow.

“Nwm informed me that you believe that some kind of _reconquista_ is possible,” Eadric spoke dubiously.

She nodded. “It is both possible and desirable. It also requires that you _grow up_.”

“You deem me…unready?”

Nehael nodded. “Your values are childish from my perspective. The world you would seek to build requires a more objective love.”

“Nehael, when we spoke at Shomei’s cottage, you implied that some _potential_ existed between us…”

She shook her head, and continued shooting. “Still, you are fixated on these quaint notions. What you inferred was not what I clearly stated. Whatever _lustfulness_ I might possess, I would not cause suffering to any.”

“You speak of Soneillon?”

“Why not? Soneillon is no less deserving than any other.”

“And your own needs?”

“There is no _I_, Eadric. That is Shomei’s province.”

He groaned. “I cannot hold these contradictory truths. I wish only to relate simply.”

A look of exasperation crossed her face. She drew an arrow, nocked it, turned, and aimed it toward him.

“You wouldn’t…” He said nervously.

She shot it into his leg. Eadric screamed in agony.

“Are you _insane?_” He gasped with wide eyes.

“No. You are being selfish, _Ahma_,” Nehael said calmly. “You need to lose that.”

“For a deity of compassion, you have some pretty strange ideas.” Eadric groaned and shook.

“Well, that would be the wrathful part,” she resumed her previous rhythm, shooting at the southern horizon.

“And as to the causation of suffering? What do you call this?”

“Pain, _Ahma_.”

“A simple remonstration would have been sufficient,” he spoke through a clenched jaw, and winced as he tried to extract the arrow.

“I am not the _Sela_, _Ahma_,” she replied. “I do not have the time or luxury to be _kind_ to you, and algesis may impel you. Leave the dart; I will see to it in due course.”

“Even so…”

She paused, and sighed. “Eadric. You need to put this romantic nonsense behind you; it cannot dictate your thoughts or actions. One may not discriminate as to _where_ to apply compassion, only _how_, and sentimental notions will interfere with your capacity to demonstrate it most effectively. Concentrate. The pain will help you focus.”

“I…”

“No.” 

He entered _saizhan_. The pain remained, but was only one amongst millions: the living, the dead; birds, animals; faeries, demons, celestials. Their combined magnitude was unguessable, and the totality struck his awareness as a barrage of sensation which screamed torment and misery at his very substance, overwhelming his identity. But the fundamental perspective observed it calmly, and did not falter.

“Much better.” Nehael spoke softly, and knelt beside him. She carefully removed the arrow; no mark of the wound remained. He looked at her, and a kernel of desire for her began to form; immediately, his sense of self reasserted itself. The Moment was gone.

He inhaled sharply, and stared at her in amazement. “You perceive this suffering always?”

“It is always there.” She laughed. 

“How do you bear it?” He felt utterly chastened.

“No _I_ could, so it is a non-issue. Do not _worry_. Midwinter has passed; the days are lengthening. The Sun is returning.” She smiled.

Nehael stood, and shot.


**


Thousands of tents and pavillions comprised the camp at Galda, occupying an area of some eighty acres. It was enclosed by a crenellated stone wall forty feet thick and sixty high which had been erected by the diligent efforts of a hundred flamines and scrollbearers over the course of several months. _Walls of stone_ and indentured elementals summoned by Uediian priests had completed the initial construction; the entire edifice had been augmented and _hardened_ by Nwm, Mesikammi, Teppu and Hlioth to withstand both physical and magical assault. The Preceptor had raised seven enormous bastions around its circuit, two of which flanked the single gate of adamant which gave access to the place. Upon the outer face of the valves were the most potent _symbols_ ever wrought: runes of Tree and Sun which described a swift demise for things which should already be dead.

The camp was removed from the town proper – of comparable dimension  – at a closest distance of around a half-mile; an outer earthwork faced with stone and with a circumference of more than a league encompassed both. The walls of Galda town itself had likewise been buttressed; most of its natives had departed some weeks earlier. The two were connected by _teleportation circles_ and _tree portals_ to allow the swift redeployment of troops.

Nwm stood within the centre of the encampment beside a muddy field which had been cleared of tents, soldiers and horses, and sighed. Although it pained him, there was no denying the logic of Mostin’s suggestion; it would save resources, and nothing within the combined power of those present could rival it for effectiveness. The Preceptor gave a resigned look to Hlioth, who returned one of equal sympathy.

[Nwm]: Very well. The space is ready.

In the middle of the camp at Galda, a three-hundred foot tall edifice of infernal adamant appeared, blotting out the sun and immediately drawing the attention of everyone within the circuit of the stronghold. Massive bartizans flanked a central tower, from which machiolated platforms and corbels depended. Wide nozzles of unknown purpose protruded from its walls. 

There was a brief silence, and then a tall doorway opened onto a balcony at a height of thirty fathoms. Six creatures with many mouths and appendages slowly floated out, bobbing in the breeze, and blew on clarions: a discordant fanfare of tremendous volume which shook the ground and made all who heard it nauseous. Great purple drapes unfurled; lights of every known hue – and some of wholly unfamiliar color – strobed brilliantly in the sky. Mostin – wearing an ornate puce mitre, three feet high and bedecked with jewels – strode forth onto the platform, and spread his arms wide.

“I have arrived,” he announced to the world.

*

Around thirty wizards – including eight from the ruling body of the Collegium – had accompanied Mostin, on the condition that they might abide within the tower and come and go at their leisure: a stipulation supported by Daunton, who recognized the relative safety of Mostin’s fortress. Mostin had grudgingly assigned suites to Waide, Jalael, Muthollo, Creq, Droom, Troap, Sarpin and Daunton himself. Lesser mages had been forced to share chambers; despite the enormous extradimensional volume of the _Infernal Tower_, Mostin preferred to keep a large portion out of bounds.

The presence of the wizards was met with mixed emotions; many of the more conservative and influential Templars viewed them with suspicion or disdain. Ortwine received them graciously, and immediately procured a well-furnished pavillion from Troap, with whom she had enjoyed long-standing good relations. Their presence in the camp, the sidhe nodded appreciatively, would inject a much-needed _civility_ into affairs; even with the numerous Wyrish aristocracy, the prevailing religious sobriety was far too _austere_ for Ortwine’s tastes.

Eadric spied a dimimutive figure who walked purposefully through the camp, wearing a cloak of deep blue – Irknaan’s cloak, he knew. His leg still tingling from its recently-experienced trauma, he intercepted her, intent on determining her disposition.

Sho turned to him, and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, _Ahma_?”

“It has been some time,” Eadric regarded her with curiosity. “I am intrigued: your vehicle – Goetia – would seem to be a path with its end in sight. Your maker has a certain…dispensation in this regard; but other wizards do not have the luxury of calling upon the previous Hell.”

She looked at him _that way_. It made him feel distinctly uncomfortable. 

“There will always be devils, _Ahma_,” Sho answered. “You should not trouble yourself on that count.”

“I do not mean to offend, Sho, but there is a question which I would like to ask you.”

“My ego is robust, _Ahma_,” Sho said drily. “You are unlikely to cause me discomfort.”

“Do you have a _religious_ vision, Sho? Some article of faith by which you abide?”

“No. I am a _wizard_, _Ahma_; such notions are uncommon amongst my kind.”

“And devils?” He asked. “Their…perspective is one for which you have some special sympathy?”

“Devils are _tools_, _Ahma_,” she replied. “But I confess a certain fondness for some of them, especially those who might be deemed high in the _Old Order._”

“You speak of Azazel and his ilk?”

Sho nodded. “They are of a particular vintage.”

“Hence my comment regarding Goetia as an increasingly obscure vehicle.”

Sho raised an eyebrow. “The world is smaller than it used to be, and two hundred legions is a _lot_ of devils, _Ahma_.” 

“Yes, I suppose it is.” His expression was one of concern. “Do you consider yourself…unique, Sho? Authentic? I ask because there are certain _resonances_ with your progenitor.”

“I am very much my own _self_, _Ahma_,” she gave a quizzical look. “Whatever similarities you perceive are entirely superficial.”

“It’s just that your _personae_ are so similar.”

Sho shrugged. “A _persona_ is exactly that, _Ahma_, and nothing more. Deeper truths are more often concealed.”

“Shomei, I…”

“I am Sho, _Ahma_,” she smiled.

“Indeed; I apologize. There is a profundity surrounding you,” Eadric sighed. “In any iteration. Do you have a _goal_, Sho? A _purpose_?” 

“Only to become myself, _Ahma_,” Sho replied. “Although I have yet to define what that is to my satisfaction. I am on the verge of transvalency; it may provide additional insights.”

He gaped. “_Already?_ You are something extraordinary, Sho.”

“Yes, _Ahma_. I know. I will not forget it: of that, you can be sure.”

“And Mei? She is here?” He asked.

“She is within the tower,” Sho nodded. “With Orolde.”

“Are you…close? By which, I mean, do you hold her in any special regard?”

“No, _Ahma_,” Sho shook her head. “Sho is Sho and Mei is Mei. And Shomei is Shomei.”

“I see,” he said. “But both you and your _sister_ – if that term is appropriate – have a particular loyalty to Mostin.”

Sho nodded; her expression was one of mild confusion. “Of course. He has been a source of unconditional support. Mostin is uncommonly _generous_ for a wizard, _Ahma_. His absurd pomp and egotism are merely a _persona_. And he will always advocate for that thing which he values most.”

“And what might that be?” Eadric inquired, raising his eyebrows.

“Potential,” Sho smiled. “And the will to realize it.”


**


The Embassy – the Fourth Effluxion of Kaalaanala – sat in her saddle and gazed north, her sight piercing all veils. The hood which framed where her visage might have been was empty: within was a blankness which admitted no light; an impalpable void. Disintegrating fire wreathed her; an aura wherein all trace of being was extinguished. Although the shape of her mount was equine, its nature was also chthonic: a powerful _anala_ bound and confined by her terrible will to serve as the steed for the avatar of the Fire of Death.

Undead surrounded her in numberless droves, driven unsconsciously by her intention into some coherence of purpose. Few amongst her living slaves might even approach her: Rishih and Naatha – feared potentates and great immortals in their own right – cowered in her presence. Anumid lavished praise upon her; an unctuous sycophant regarded with contempt amongst most of the remaining Cheshnite magnates, but still commanding the respect of the remnant of the Convocations. A fourth part of Dhatri’s host accompanied the Embassy. The rest, which moved with the bloated goddess and the entourage of the demilich Idyam had struck out toward the northeast and crawled or lurched toward Wyre: a great swell of hunger which, now beyond the darkness of the _Pall_, was revealed as a relentless tide of death and putrefaction which consumed everything in its path.

Galda was encompassed entirely; a cordon of rotting flesh at a distance of two leagues, beyond the ambit of the scions which nestled in the vale north of the town. The Embassy was acutely aware of the diminishment which the Oak and Elm would force upon her undead minions, and had prepared magicks to counteract the effects of the Trees on her troops; until she had positioned herself exactly for the assault, her spells were held in reserve. Three great hubs were established – south, northeast and northwest of the Wyrish defenses – which, although beyond the inner purlieu of the scions, still fell within the circuit established by the _ludjas_. Magical scrutiny by the Cheshnites was denied by quercine power within the area, and reconnaissance was achieved by flights of shadow demons, succubi and palrethees: fiends which, by virtue of their scarcity, were now viewed as a valuable resource by the immortal elite.

Choach – returned again from his concealed phylactery – had entrenched in the westernmost presidio. To Prahar’s chagrin, the Embassy had appointed the lich – despite his own clear seniority in such matters – as her general above him: Prahar’s own instability might make him a liability, and the situation was too precarious to risk a whimsical assault by the great death knight, whatever his own prowess, or that of his troops. The range east and north of Galda was commanded by Naatha, with a bulwark of magi beneath Rishih, together with many of the staunchest remaining demons and those troops whom Temenun had abandonded. The southernmost concentration – the largest by number, if not in native power – Kaalaanala’s avatar had taken to herself directly: a sea of rotten flesh which, when the time came, she would imbue with Void and ferocious hunger.

The Embassy bided her time for a while. 

Void moved in deep, imperceptible currents.


**


Soneillon lounged upon the bed within the main suite at Deorham, studying the glyphs etched into the tablet which Tozinak had bestowed upon her, and considered their import. Some agency was at work, although she could not determine precisely _what_; it was neither Kaalaanala, nor the Cherry itself – which, being comprised of lust, lacked volition in the conventional sense. Something hitherto unrevealed had prompted the wizard to transpose Jovol’s spell into a minor key; it was no parody, and the artistry in the dweomer was immediately apparent to her. It was also something utterly beyond Tozinak’s capacity to achieve. And Tozinak still had the original spell – _A Flame Precedes the Aeon_ – locked somewhere within his Cherry-addled mind. _Vhorzhe?_ She considered. The entity was capable, no doubt, although whether desirous was a different question entirely.

The Apparition strove to manifest; of that, there could be no doubt. And other chthonic forces were also active; impulses which she could not hope to fully comprehend. Soneillon began to wonder whether another _Bhiti_ – one of an order comparable to the Fires of Death – might be implicated. If so, the _medium_ through which it was operating was obscure; if Delirium or some approximal region of Dream, she should have felt it herself. If it were confined within the Green – as was Kaalaanala – then its presence would have been long known. Kaalaanala had been the reciprocal payment; the price forced by Void to tolerate the Abysmal _ludjas_. But what if some other balance had been struck?

The demoness rose and exited the chamber onto a small stoop which overlooked the curtilage below. All of the structural damage had been repaired, and Carasch had been dismissed – temporarily, at least. Most of her other minions had been slain or had fled, although a trio of succubi once sworn to Graz’zt – Mazikreen, Ilistet and Chepez the Vicious – still attended her. Around a hundred demons remained loose in western Trempa, making mischief; none were of a mind to submit themselves again to the former Queen of Throile, and eliminating them or driving them away would be necessary to appease the _Ahma_ – whose current mood of contrition regarding her should probably be enjoyed for as long as possible.  

Hard beside the chapel, the Blackthorn scion dozed; snow sat upon its barbed limbs, and the textures of its twisted trunk intimated at the very process of dissolution. Soneillon glided down into the courtyard, folded her wings, and approached the Tree: its _attitude_ toward her – if its disposition could be described in such terms – seemed benign; somehow sympathetic. She sighed. This _Treeish_-ness was difficult to fathom. She pressed her hands against its bark, feeling its energy; an inevitable urge toward the _ending_ of things. But not after the nullificatory fashion of Cheshne’s unmanifest Shadow, the Apparition or _Aabhaasa_ of Shûthite lore. More, a délabrement in a helical stream which did not deny new beginnings. _Cheshne was more than Her Shadow_; of this, the demoness had no doubt. _She_ – the Void – was awake; no longer slumbering within the bounds of _ens_ as tenuously described by her oneiric form. And Soneillon, in whom all infinities collided, might alone in her psychosis apprehend a great, dark, devouring love.

A sudden urge overcame her.

Soneillon gestured, and the door to the chapel creaked open. Inside, all was again ordered and pristine, though nonetheless still profaned; the guts and ichor which had spilled in from the conflict of the previous day had been scoured clean. She entered and extended tendrils which seemed to caress the floor, feeling the draught which issued from the crypt below. 

Carefully, she lifted a three-hundred pound flag of granite and set it aside, revealing steep steps which led down into a narrow space with a low, vaulted ceiling. She descended slowly; a dozen sarcophagi were crowded into the sepulchre, along with smaller caskets and urns: Eadric’s direct forebears, and uncles and cousins removed by degrees. She inspected those which seemed the most recent, brushing away cobwebs, until she found the one she was looking for: directly below the altar, a narrow funerary coffer of marble, unadorned except for its simple brass plaque:


*THIOSTRI, Lady Deorham*
628-656 TR
Dame of Witnung’s Chase

Daughter of Nân of Jaive 
Beloved Wife of Moad Sauil, Baronet
And of Orm and Eadric, Mother​


Soneillon folded her arms. “You would seem to have been a remarkable woman, Thiostri. Your elder son gave lessons to the Mind of Oronthon, and your younger is his Breath; the last prosopopoeia of Radiance. And I do not believe in coincidences.”

She knelt, and lit an offertory taper. It flickered uncertainly as it illuminated the space, wavering in the chill breeze drawn through cracks in the chamber’s walls. The demoness focused and drew her knife, opening a deep cut in her palm. She squeezed her fist, and ichor dripped onto the sarcophagus. Potent magic coursed through her; even a vanished archetype might have responded to its entreaty.

“_Tyakh, asrij svaam_: an offering, my own blood. Were you a mortal woman, or one divine?”

There was no sound; no movement; no shade which spoke. No thing. The taper guttered and went out. Peace, and an utter stillness. The darkness was perfect; unmarred.

Soneillon sat in silence. _Pasyaami. Tvam jaane:_ I see. Thou, I know.

She pondered for a long while before finally cursing, standing and exiting the crypt. Her form altered, and her wings retracted and vanished: no sense in alarming the Oronthonists beyond the necessary. The demoness clad herself in sombre black – a high-collared robe which encased her form with an appropriate propriety – and drew her hair back after the fashion of an Orthodox Sister. Throwing a great, atrament cloak about herself, she dreamed her way to Galda, manifesting discreetly beside the war pavillion of the _Ahma_ – a large affair which had been erected after the previous had been blasted away by Shomei. The daylight was waning; the voices inside the tent were intense, agitated and full of worry.

Soneillon opened a heavy curtain of canvas and entered quietly; Eadric was taking counsel with his captains: Saints, Talions, great magnates of Wyre and the chiefs among the Illuminated. She lowered her hood: her presence was at once both disquieting and magnetic. Her beauty – which familiarity had somehow caused the _Ahma_ to forget – transfixed those who gazed upon her;  silence fell within. Eadric squinted; he had not encountered this particular façade before. While her features remained unchanged, the masque of the coquettish peasant-girl was entirely absent, replaced by a solemn focus and composure. If anything, her assumed guise – which suggested modesty and abnegation – made the succubus even more alluring. 

Saint Tahl the Incorruptible, who wore an _Eye of Palamabron_ around his neck – the mate of that borne by the _Ahma_ – glanced toward Eadric. Immediately, he had apprehended the truths which clashed within her, and knew who she was. Many others within guessed: Soneillon’s eyes were apertures through which form and Void regarded one another. Around the table, a dozen hands came to rest instinctively upon hilts and pommels, although the likely futility of any such gesture was lost to none, and least of all to Eadric; he knew that she could kill them all with a fleeting thought. 

Soneillon said nothing; her face was impassive.

“A brief recess, _Ahma_?” Tahl inquired diplomatically. Inwardly, he grappled with the multiplicity of forms which he could perceive in her.

Eadric nodded.

When they were alone, Eadric approached her and gave an inquiring look. “Perhaps I should thank you for not appearing naked upon the conference table. Are you here to ensure my fidelity?”

She offered a hand. “Now is not the time for levity, Eadric. Come to Deorham.”

“Soneillon, we have only hours before the assault begins.”

“Come,” she insisted. She was nervous. “There is something you need to _see._”

He narrowed his eyes; this trepidation was most unlike her. “I assume I should be prepared to be upset?”

“You should just be _prepared_,” Soneillon advised. “Although, in retrospect, everything makes perfect sense.”

“As you are making little,” Eadric opined.

“You spring from Void, Eadric; the Sun is born in the dark.”

He swallowed; the memory of his own, isolated, second death still haunted him: a monad bereft, surrounded by night. “If this is some effort to distort…”

Soneillon hissed. “Trust me, or do not! The choice is yours; and the _via negativa_ is an artifact of _Saizhan_: this is _your_ description of truth, not mine.”

“Really?” He asked sceptically. “And how might you characterize that?”

“_Ni thatuh, jah thata; ni bai, jah nih_,” she half-smiled.

“You are most vexatious.”

“_Waihtai ni, waírthi._ The epistemic must become the ontic – or rather the meta-ontic.”

“And now even Soneillon would wax philosophical?” He groaned.*

“Only when all else fails,” she said drily. “How much do you really trust me, Eadric?”

Eadric looked at her, and shifted uneasily. He guessed her purpose. “You are proposing annihilation; that if I strip myself of my self, my Self will kindle? You have offered me this before, although its guise was more sinister at that time; the outcome crueller.”

“Times have changed.” She drew close; her fingers trembled as she reached out and touched his face. “Are both _saizhan_ and extinction not unattainable?** It can be sweet, Eadric; death and climax. But _saizhan_ – if it is the transmetaphysic it purports to be – will sustain you.”

He sighed. “Must _everything_ be couched in terms of death and sex?”

“Eventually. Am I not Soneillon?” She laughed. For a moment, the playfulness returned. “And I already hold you longer than I should.”

He looked at her curiously.

“Consider the Sun, Eadric. What is the _Ahma_ – the manifest Breath of Oronthon in the World – if not that light? That is your legacy. This time between the winter solstice and the vernal equinox should be yours; you will be Nehael’s from spring until midsummer. Properly, I do not get you until autumn.”

He gawked. “And the summer months?”

“That would be your _short friend_.”

“It might have been nice to have been consulted in this arrangement,” Eadric grumbled. “And if this is the ‘empty quarter,’ so to speak, then why am I still beholden to you?”

She stared at him, her eyes penetrating to his core. “Because I am the jealous one, Eadric. I will always find it hard to let go. Besides, we started late this year. And this is your _arrangement_ – or an arrangement made to accommodate _you_. Now, will you come to Deorham? Your third passing need not be final, merely complete.”

“And you would then call me back?” He asked. “You suggested before that if I jumped, you might catch me.”

“No,” Soneillon shook her head. “You must bring yourself back; Self-emanate _ex nihilo_. I can only make a cradle for you; ease your passage into oblivion with soft words and a warm embrace.”

“This would seem a task of more than middling difficulty,” Eadric remarked ironically.

“The _Ahma_ is sempiternal, and will exist for as long as the World endures. I cannot destroy it, although I can deprive it of its physical dwelling. If _Saizhan_ is what you claim it is, you may cross the Abyss with impunity and wake on the other side.”

“Awaken to what?”

“To Regency, Eadric. To your own incandescence.”

“And what does that _mean_, exactly?” He asked.

“Amongst other things, that I will have cause to fear you,” she said ruefully. “Well?”

He sighed. “Do I need to bring anything?”

“Your self only.” Soneillon gave an ironic smile. A sacrificial robe appeared in each of her hands. “Now. Would you prefer black, or white?”


A mile to the south, Nehael paused briefly; the _Ahma_ had all of the tools he needed: what he did with them was up to him. She drew; her bow sang rhythmically again in the dusk as she continued to loose arrow after arrow into the hordes of ghouls which pressed ever closer.

*

Eadric sat cross-legged upon the sarcophagus and glanced suspiciously at the ichor which stained it: a testament to Soneillon’s previous necromancy. “And here I was, thinking there were no taboos left to break.”

Soneillon said nothing, and lit a black _candle of invocation_. Its flame burned the color of soot.

“What, exactly, are you invoking?” He inquired.

“I believe you know the answer to that,” the demoness replied. She wore her most malefic aspect now: a shape of terrible darkness; ravenous, clawed and fanged, with pinions which stretched to fill the chamber. Soneillon moved, and tendrils of madness and oblivion writhed about her. She slid forward suddenly, and Void held him in a vice. _Kaalakamala_, the Lotus of Death; she was delirium, and despair.

Eadric swallowed. “Somehow, I think I like you best like this.”  

She regarded him closely. “That is well.”

“Will there be pain?” He asked dubiously. 

“If you like.” Her claws, razor-sharp, pricked the skin on his back.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then there won’t.” She relaxed her grip.

“That might be preferable,” he nodded.

She arched an eyebrow. “If you are having second thoughts, Eadric, now would probably be a good time to articulate them. Would you like to reconsider?”

“Yes. No. Proceed.”

_As you wish, Ahma_.

Talons sank into the granite lintel above his head and wings encased him, cocooning him in unbeing. Around him, form and substance disintegrated; he felt his strength begin to slowly ebb away. Like a heady wine, Soneillon drank _ens_ from him, savoring its potency, until his brilliance had dimmed to the merest flicker, a guttering lamp borne above a yawning chasm without root or essence. The magnitude of the Void was immeasurable; its profundity, unguessable. 

Without fear or rancor, the _Ahma_ gazed long and deep into the Abyss; she held him at the brink of annihilation for what seemed an eternity: Aeons wheeled past him as infinities were born, unfolded and died. He would have remained there indefinitely, and the impetus to go further finally arose not from himself, but from her: she urged him on without her, and he blessed her for it. Beyond Nothingness, he beheld the shining emptiness which neither was nor was not: the Fundamental without category.

_Seek the Dragon. She is waiting._. Void clenched softly, and snuffed out the last iota of light. Ecstasy and death converged, and in that fraction of a second Eadric understood her absolutely: what drove her, what she represented, what she must give up. He was awestruck; the _kius_ was resolved, complete. His body was instantly consumed; no trace remained, save a scarf of black samite only. Soneillon – drunk  with radiance – lay down upon the tomb, her wings draped over its sides, and silently wept. 

Finally, reluctantly, she roused herself and stood, once again assuming her human form with its funereal garb. She now had the bitterest task of all. Bile rose in her throat. She clenched her teeth, closed her eyes, and reached out with her mind.

[Soneillon]: It is done. Nwm must conjure his herald in the hour before sunrise. Look to the Blackthorn at Deorham.

[Nehael/_Eleos_]: (Empathy). Soneillon…

[Soneillon]: Save it. 

The demoness mindfully folded the token, placed it within a pocket, and climbed the steps into the chapel. She closed the door behind her and entered the courtyard. The air was cold and the night was moonless; the stars glistened above, whispering expectantly to one another. Soneillon took _Pharamne’s Urn_ and placed it carefully within the bole of the scion; immediately, she was diminished as its power left her. Veiling herself in shadows, she prepared to launch herself skywards: for almost nine months, she would walk on dark paths until the Sun fell within her orbit again.

The slightest breeze alerted her to the sudden presence of another; a statuesque figure who towered above her. She turned and gave an inquiring look.

“It was indicated that you might like some company,” Irel bowed.

“Indeed?” Soneillon gave a small smile. “And yet it is not midsummer. Why has your mistress dismissed you?”

“I was never compacted, if you recall; she merely intimated that I might come. I believe the _Sela_ spoke with her and suggested it. I will leave, if you prefer.”

“I did not say that,” she said wrily. “But it may be that you cannot endure where I am to go. I will wander through nightmares, Irel; into Delirium and beyond; Outside; through the space between the stars and into the Void.”

“Then you must strive hard to keep me safe,” the deva replied with an even humor. “That I might prevent you from straying too far.”

Soneillon looked up at him and sighed. “Thank-you, Irel. I think I should like that very much.”


Eadric was gone, reduced to nihility. But the _Ahma_ abode in _saizhan_. He would ignite with the dawn.

A dawn which was still six hours away.







*Translational Note:
_Ni thatuh, jah thata; ni bai, jah nih_: Neither this nor that; neither both nor neither.
_Waihtai ni, waírthi._: That which is not, becomes.

**The original _kius_ regarding Eadric’s relationship with Soneillon was framed as _Hwa Soneo ith ni bai afhwapnan jah saizhan thau ni maht ist laiston?_ , i.e. “What is Soneillon, if both _saizhan_ and extinction are not unattainable?”

*


----------



## Knightfall

Great. Really, really, great!



Sepulchrave II said:


> [sblock]This was the hardest update I have ever written. I'm still not happy with it.[/sblock]



Understandable.


----------



## carborundum

Fantastic! Though I'm not quite sure what is going on (as usual) 

Is this the prelude to a divine rank for Eadric?

And... fifteen _million_ undead?


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Yeah, I'm envious of all that XP too. Very thrilling update, I wonder what Eardrick will finally do. Became Chtonic ?


----------



## RedTonic

Amazing. I love the synchronicity--or symmetry? Not sure which word I want to use to describe how pleasing this revelation is and its effect on the story structure. 

A couple of questions while they remain top of mind, since I've been rereading at work:

1. Did Hlioth free Grazzt? Why? I may have missed the reveal by accident. 

2. Will we ever see the rest of the battle at Afqithan? I realize that was quite some time ago, but so many developments resulted fro
 the event that I remain eager to learn more.


----------



## tleilaxu

thanks


----------



## Bloodcookie

So, Soneillon and Nehael appear to believe that Eadric (or rather, I suppose, the _Ahma_) needs to be the one to actualize the _Urn_'s power... I think? And what might be inferred of Eadric's mother just raises all kinds of questions.

Needless to say, I can't wait to see what happens in the morning


----------



## Cheiromancer

I'm still gathering my thoughts- superb installment, I can't imagine why Sepulchrave is unhappy with it. I really like the fact that this installment came out during Easter. Death and Resurrection being themes for the season. 

I seem to recall seeing the stats of a Regent of Oronthon a long time ago. Maybe this is what Eadric will be when he is reborn? Will he claim the Urn, or is the tree using the Urn to assure that Eadric's descent into the Void will result in renewal?

[MENTION=98994]RedTonic[/MENTION]: I think that Nwm and Hlioth's discomfiture is because of Mostin, his tower, his wizard friends, and his pseudonatural conjurations. They are reluctant to have the whole entourage, but don't see any alternative.


----------



## Starman

An update! Hooray!


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Some attached notes on the _Ahma_verse:


----------



## Salthorae

Thanks for the update and the great chart/info clarifying how Eadric relates to his 3 goddesses!

Also - thank you once more for sticking to this story for the long haul, we greatly appreciate it Sep and enjoy getting to see the continuing chapters of this story.


----------



## Tal Rasha

In addition to the superb writing, one of the things I like most about _Tales of Wyre_ is that, unlike many other works of fiction [1] it has an extraordinarily well-developed internal system governing its magic, spirituality, and all other preternatural aspects. Knowing how things work, from magic missile up to the epic spells currently employed in the story, makes the story and the experience so much better.

[1] I am referring here to mainstream fantasy fiction, not other story hours. Perhaps I've read too little but it seems very few authors bother with detailed magical systems in their works.


----------



## RedTonic

Oh, sorry--I wasn't clear. I meant after grazzt's original binding by Fillein.


----------



## Kestrel

So is Eadric free to date around during the empty quarter?


----------



## Bloodcookie

Kestrel said:


> So is Eadric free to date around during the empty quarter?




Open, polyamorous relationships among cosmic archetypes with virtually immeasurable power to reshape reality - NOTHING CAN GO WRONG.


----------



## Kestrel

LOL..cue the Big Bang Theme Song


----------



## Bloodcookie

Not to flood the thread, but there is one thing I was wondering if Sep would speak to. Apropos of nothing other than the fact that I've finally gotten around to studying it in some depth - was the cult of Cheshne basically conceived with the idea "what if the philosophy and ritual practices of Tibetan Buddhism were taken to an absurd, evil extreme?" The patronage-based sorcerous cabals, the worship of annihilating emptiness, not to mention much of its aesthetic, all strike me as dark parodies of that religion, which (even if this wasn't your intent!) I think would be a very original source of inspiration for a villainous organization.


----------



## tleilaxu

hey sep,

how does fomalhaut fit in, if anywhere? does eadric have any resonance with it?


----------



## Baron Opal

Sepulchrave II said:


> Some attached notes on the _Ahma_verse:



This is a marvelous campaign you're building, but I don't think your current players would have the heart to play.

And, I was wondering where the cup would come into play.


----------



## Salthorae

[MENTION=10433]Baron Opal[/MENTION]: aren't they already playing it?


----------



## Sepulchrave II

RedTonic said:
			
		

> 1. Did Hlioth free Grazzt? Why? I may have missed the reveal by accident.




Yes, when Fillein imprisoned him. She was part of the original cabal, but had misgivings about him being bound on the Prime and dismissed him.



			
				RedTonic said:
			
		

> 2. Will we ever see the rest of the battle at Afqithan? I realize that was quite some time ago, but so many developments resulted fro
> the event that I remain eager to learn more.




Maybe, if I ever get round to it.



			
				Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> I can't imagine why Sepulchrave is unhappy with it.




The previous update tries to draw so many disparate threads together, and I felt it might be too ambitious. Sometimes, I can be incredibly pedantic about the language I use, and fuss over tiny details. The Eadric/Soneillon Yab-Yum/annihilation passage caused me enormous grief, as I wanted to convey too much at once: a sense of mature mutual comfortableness, emphasise the mystical experience, and preserve the erotic subtext without resorting to overtly sexual language.

I'm happier with it than I was, as I've had a chance to process it a little. There comes a point sometimes when I can't bring any objectivity to bear upon what I write. I experience a kind of mental constipation; if things are flowing more freely, I'm less self-critical.



			
				Bloodcookie said:
			
		

> Not to flood the thread, but there is one thing I was wondering if Sep would speak to. Apropos of nothing other than the fact that I've finally gotten around to studying it in some depth - was the cult of Cheshne basically conceived with the idea "what if the philosophy and ritual practices of Tibetan Buddhism were taken to an absurd, evil extreme?" The patronage-based sorcerous cabals, the worship of annihilating emptiness, not to mention much of its aesthetic, all strike me as dark parodies of that religion, which (even if this wasn't your intent!) I think would be a very original source of inspiration for a villainous organization.




The Cheshnite religion is a kind of hybrid of Shaktism and Tibetan Tantrism with a very dark cast put upon it; _ugras_ and _bhitis_ might be considered the equivalent of the most malevolent aspects of Tantric _yidams_. The fact that I've chosen Sanskrit to represent the language of Shuth further reinforces the connection.

Buddhist philosophy and religion in general is massively implicated in many aspects of the campaign; the practice of _Saizhan_ itself is essentially a restructuring of Buddhist objectless meditations such as _zazen_ or _Dzogchen_. The common ground of being/not being - the transmetaphysic -features heavily in _Madhyamaka_ philosophy; in _saizhan_ the third ontic state, Becoming, is also implicated; this differs from Buddhist philosophy, where Becoming is generally viewed as the solution to the being/not being conundrum. The comment made by tleilaxu regarding Heidegger's _Dasein_ is also very close to the mark: there is an essay here if you're interested.




			
				tleilaxu said:
			
		

> hey sep,
> 
> how does fomalhaut fit in, if anywhere? does eadric have any resonance with it?




Good question. That would be a logical deduction, given its status as the fourth "royal star." Its opposition to Regulus would also cement Shomei's role of _Adversary_, of course.

You'll have to wait and see.



			
				Baron Opal said:
			
		

> This is a marvelous campaign you're building, but I don't think your current players would have the heart to play.




Liberally embossing after the event in order to build a story and mythology on what has gone before is what it's all about. The players tend to want to just smite things or blow them up. Fortunately, I have a knack for manipulating symbols.


----------



## Bloodcookie

Awesome, thanks for the link, Sep


----------



## tleilaxu

Sep said:
			
		

> The comment made by tleilaxu regarding Heidegger's Dasein is also very close to the mark




Being oriented towards the Chinese I feel resonance with the daoist sensibility. 

http://www.sunypress.edu/p-4268-nietzsche-heidegger-and-daoist-.aspx
http://books.google.com/books/about/Heidegger_and_Asian_Thought.html?id=bUa8ctgqeC8C




Sepulchrave II said:


> You'll have to wait and see.




as always, i'll be here to read whenever the next update may be. in the meantime: praecipio


----------



## carborundum

"The players tend to want to just smite things or blow them up."

Thank goodness! I thought you might have found uber-metaphysical players to match your uber-metaphysical campaign. They sound like normal people after all ;-)


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Bloodcookie said:


> And what might be inferred of Eadric's mother just raises all kinds of questions.




There's a fair bit of linguistic and symbolic hokey-pokey going on on the tomb:

[sblock]_Ƿéostru_ or _Ƿéostrig_ in Old English (_Thiustri_ in Old Saxon) means “dark, darkness, gloominess,” both literally and metaphorically; it is often used to translate Latin _tenebrae_. _Ƿiostri_ (Thiostri) is a more uncommon spelling.

_Nân_ is “nothing, none;” _Mōd_ is “inner man, spirit, soul”; _Sauil_ is “sun, solar, Sol.” _Orm_ is wyrm, dragon. 

28-29 (or so) years is a Saturn cycle or a progressed lunar cycle. 28 is also the number of lunar mansions, and the total number of domains associated with Oronthon.

Proper names aside, in addition to the literal interpretation of the words upon the tomb of Eadric’s mother, the encrypted meaning might be distilled as this:

Darkness
Who abode through a cycle of time
Daughter of Nothingness
Wife of the Sun’s Soul
Mother of Wyrm and _Ahma_​[/sblock]


----------



## grodog

Just saw the update---time to read!


----------



## Erevanden

> Wife of the Sun’s Soul




And how does that relate to Eadric's father


----------



## Quartz

The metaphysics here have thoroughly lost me. Still, it's a fantastic ride, and I'm sure all will be made clear eventually.


----------



## Olive

Quartz said:


> The metaphysics here have thoroughly lost me. Still, it's a fantastic ride, and I'm sure all will be made clear eventually.




Me too!


----------



## Baron Opal

Salthorae said:


> [MENTION=10433]Baron Opal[/MENTION]: aren't they already playing it?



No, I'm thinking of the next one. Sepulchrave's notes that he has shared with us look like the notes for a campaign set in Wyre's next age. The players have the benefit of playing _this_ campaign that shapes the true campaign to come.

There's a kernel of something profound there, maybe.



Sepulchrave II said:


> There comes a point sometimes when I can't bring any objectivity to bear upon what I write. I experience a kind of mental constipation; if things are flowing more freely, I'm less self-critical.
> 
> Liberally embossing after the event in order to build a story and mythology on what has gone before is what it's all about. The players tend to want to just smite things or blow them up. Fortunately, I have a knack for manipulating symbols.



When inspiration leads strongly, I tend to be satisfied with the results as well. Actually working for it makes me more critical, too.

As to the rest, that's a fun part too.


----------



## RedTonic

Having a Sepulchrave response here really helped lighten an otherwise exceptionally heavy day. Thanks for your hard work.


----------



## Soramain

A "someone's got a case of the Mondays" bump.

(hint: it's me)


----------



## grodog

*bump*

**Bump**

***BUMP***

****B-U-M-P!****


----------



## omgwadh

*recent reading...*

Having to occupy my time between updates with other activities, I have recently finished Laurence Krauss' "A Universe From Nothing, Why There is Something Rather Than Nothing".  The main premise being that the universe is a product of nothing and was basically required to be, no creation was necessary. 

One thought kept reoccurring to me while reading,

   (say it with me) 

"Nothing Becomes"

Thanks Sep!


----------



## tleilaxu

Sepulchrave II said:


> Good question. That would be a logical deduction, given its status as the fourth "royal star." Its opposition to Regulus would also cement Shomei's role of _Adversary_, of course.
> 
> You'll have to wait and see.





looks like it could be breath to me!


----------



## Nightbreeze

unnecessary bump!


----------



## grodog

Nightbreeze said:


> unnecessary bump!




No bump is unnecessary, just ask [MENTION=82]Horacio[/MENTION] 

Actually, I was planning a pre-North-TX-RGP-Con bump already....


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Preview*

Rider and steed. It'll be a while before I have time to update the SH.

[sblock]Eadric after his enkindlement and self-emanation. At this point, the Divine Disciple levels are dropped and entirely subsumed by the outsider HD array; precursors to the Exalted template (and Perfection) begin to appear within his stat block – the Constant Smiting ability and Perfect Excellence (the bonuses afforded by the previous headband of the same name are simply absorbed into his stat block). Likewise, the _Eye of Palamabron_ is dropped (actually, entrusted to Tuan Muat, the Inquisitor) as native divine abilities replace those bestowed by the artifact. Domain powers, turning effects and SLAs are calculated using Eadric’s total HD (+DvR); SLAs are (somewhat) streamlined, to prevent irrelevance or redundancy: thematically inappropriate SLAs from domains have been removed or substituted. Paladin spellcasting caster level includes outsider HD; also a precursor to Exaltation.

The meditations of _Fultum_ and _Anto_ (revealed by the _Sela_ during Eadric’s death in the Viridescent Yew-heaven) come to fulfillment in his domains. The potential palette is narrowed down at the point of his first death to eight domains: Law, Inquisition, Protection and Courage (from _Fultum_); and Wrath, War, Retribution and Renewal (from _Anto_). The final choice – made at his ignition – was Protection and Renewal;  these might be considered the two (out of the original twenty-eight) Sovereign domains which make it to the new Aeon via Eadric, along with Strength and Sun – which are “native” to him, via previous Divine Disciple levels. The final statement is actually a rejection of the more punitive side of the previous solar deity in favor of more redemptive qualities.

Salient Divine Abilities can be mapped onto Eadric’s luminescence or solarity (_Divine Fire Immunity, Enkindle the Illuminated, Incandescence_), and his “negotiated” state of equilibrium regarding Viridescence (_Gift of Life_), the Infernal Paradigm (_Reason with the Damned_) and the Chthonic Infinity (_Mastery of Void_); modes which are reflected in his relationship to the three ontic states as represented by Nehael, Shomei and Soneillon respectively. The _Irresistible Blows_ SDA might be understood as either spinging from and an expression of the transmetaphysic of _Saizhan_, or as appropriated from the defunct Visuit – who also possessed this SDA. The _Extra Domain_ SDA itself mirrors the Fourfold Dominion held by each of Oronthon’s Sovereignties and is best viewed as a precursor to (and promise of) that state.

Eadric at this point is afforded a CR of 65, and Gear value (89M) is predicated on a CR 65 build; the Perfect Excellence exceptional ability is nominally valued at 24M and offset against the total. Saving throws are extremely robust; as one emphasis of the _Ahma_’s portfolio is of _resistance_, this disparity is not incongruent with his overall CR. 

Attacks made by Eadric may provoke up to four saving throws against various effects; these are detailed below (Hit and Critical Hit Regime within his stat block description).

*Regency of the Ahma* 

*Symbols:* Sun; Tree and Sun; Three-Headed Phoenix
*Home Plane:* The World of Men
*Alignment:* Good 
*Portfolio:* Life, Light, Protection, Renewal, Sun
*Domains:* Protection, Renewal, Strength, Sun

*Paladin 15/Fighter 20*

*Medium Outsider (Augmented, Good, Native)*
*Divine Rank:* 6
*Hit Dice:* 20d8+380 (outsider) plus 35d10+665 (class levels) (1555hp)
*Initiative:* +21
*Speed:* 60ft.
*Armor Class:* 117 (+18 armor, +13 Dex, +22 deflection, +6 divine, +16 insight, +19 natural, +12 shield, +1 Weapon Supremacy); flat-footed 104, touch 68
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +38/+74
*Attack:* +82 melee (1d10+46+3d6 radiant/15-20, _Lukarn_) vs. touch AC
_vs evil creatures:_ +104 melee (1d10+76+6d6/15-20, _Lukarn_)
_vs fiends:_ +108 melee (1d10+80+10d6/15-20, _Lukarn_)
*Full Attack:* +82/+77/+72/+67 melee (1d10+46+3d6 radiant/15-20, _Lukarn_)
*Space/Reach:* 5ft./5ft.
*Special Attacks:* Devastating Critical (DC 67), holy power, salient divine abilities, smite evil, spell-like abilities, spells
*Special Qualities:* Divine grace, DR 20/adamantine and epic and evil, fast healing 20, SR 77, immunities (ability damage, ability drain, acid, _banishment_, binding, cold, death effects, _dimensional anchor_, disease, disintegration, dismissal, electricity, energy drain, fire, fear, imprisonment, mind-affecting effects, negative energy effects, paralysis, petrification, poison, _polymorph_, repulsion, _sleep, soul bind_, stunning, _temporal stasis, trap the soul_), lay on hands, sacred defense +2, telepathy, tongues, true seeing, turn undead 
*Saves:* Fort +86 Ref +80 Will +83
*Abilities:* Str 54 Dex 36 Con 48 Int 24 Wis 42 Cha 54
*Skills:* Balance +47, Concentration +63, Diplomacy +88, Handle Animal +72, Heal +54, Jump +92,  Knowledge (history) +46, Knowledge (nobility) +61, Knowledge (religion) +61, Listen +55, Sense Motive +70, Spot +55, Perform (oratory) +52, Ride +83, Tumble +49
*Feats:* Cavalry Charger, Cleave, Combat Brute, Divine Might, Exotic Weapon Proficiency (bastard sword), Great Cleave, Improved Critical (bastard sword), Greater Weapon Focus (bastard sword), Greater Weapon Specialization (bastard sword), Improved Bull Rush, Improved Initiative, Improved Sunder, Melee Weapon Mastery (slashing), Mounted Combat, Power Attack, Ride-by Attack, Shock Trooper, Spirited Charge, Trample, Weapon Focus (bastard sword), Weapon Specialization (bastard sword), Weapon Supremacy (bastard sword).
*Epic Feats:* Blinding Speed, Devastating Critical (bastard sword), Dire Charge, Epic Prowess, Epic Weapon Focus (bastard sword), Epic Weapon Specialization (bastard sword), Great Smiting, Overwhelming Critical (bastard sword), Superior Initiative 

*Salient Divine Abilities:* Divine Energy Immunity (fire), Extra Domain, Gift of Life, Enkindle the Illuminated, Incandescence, Irresistible Blows,  Mastery of Void, Reason with the Damned

*Other Divine Abilities*
_Create Portfolio Item:_ 30000gp limit. Eadric can create items connected with his portfolio even if he doesn't possess the necessary prerequisite feats. 
_Divine Aura:_ Free action. 600-ft radius; Will DC 67. Daze, fright or resolve. 
_Divine Realm:_ As Lesser Power; 6 miles.
_Movement:_ Eadric may use _greater teleport_ and _greater plane shift_ at will as a standard action upon himself and his mount and any gear carried. These are supernatural abilities. 
_Portfolio Sense:_ Any portfolio-related event involving 500 or more people
_Remote Communication:_ Standard action. Eadric may speak directly into the mind of any creature within 6 miles of his person, or to any celestial, worshipper of Oronthon, venerator of himself, or _Saizhan_ practitioner within 6 miles of any dedicated Oronthonist site or site where his name was apoken within the last 6 hours.
_Sensory Range:_ 6 miles. Darkvision, low-light vision and _true seeing_ to the limit of his vision.
_Remote Sensing and Blocking:_ Standard action. Self + 5 remote locations; 6-mile radius
_XP Reservoir:_ 30,000/week

*SDAs*

*Divine Fire Immunity:* Eadric is immune to all attacks with the [Fire] descriptor, even if the attacker is of higher divine rank. Nominal fire attacks which otherwise deal divine, profane or untyped damage (such as Hellfire) do only half damage to the _Ahma_, or no damage upon a successful save.
*Enkindle the Illuminated (Unique SDA):* Creatures within 600 feet of the _Ahma_ which possesses the half-celestial template are treated as a divine proxies with 1 divine rank and gain the following benefits:
- All Hit Points per die are maximixed
- The proxy gains a deflection bonus to its armor class equal to its Charisma modifier (if positive) and a +1 divine bonus to its armor class
- The base speed of the creature doubles for all categories
- The creature gains a +1 divine bonus to its attacks, skill checks and saving throws. Attacks made by proxies are considered epic and good-aligned.
- The proxy gains the Divine Radiance and Divine Fire Immunity SDAs. It illuminates an area with a radius of 10 feet.
- Spell resistance 33, unless SR is already higher
- Immunity to energy drain, ability drain, or ability damage; mind-affecting effects (charms, compulsions, phantasms, patterns, and morale effects);  electricity, cold, and acid, disease and poison, stunning, sleep, paralysis, and death effects, and disintegration.
- DR 15/epic
*Gift Of Life:* Eadric can restore a dead creature to life, no matter how long the creature has been dead or what the condition of the body. This ability works like the _true resurrection _spell, except that there is no material component and the amount of time the subject has been dead is irrelevant. This ability can restore a creature to life against its will, but only with the permission of whatever deity rules the divine realm where the mortal’s soul resides. This ability can resurrect an elemental or outsider and can resurrect a creature whose soul is trapped, provided the soul is not held by a deity with 7 or more divine ranks. This ability cannot restore life to a creature that has been slain by the Hand of Death ability or the Life and Death ability of a deity with a higher rank.
*Incandescence (Unique SDA):* Eadric may emanate an aura of brilliant light in a 120-ft. radius; the light is the equivalent of a double strength _magic circle against evil_ and a _minor globe of invulnerability_ which counters and dispels all _darkness_ effects unless their source possesses at least 7 divine ranks. Eadric’s incandescence illuminates an area equal to full daylight out to a further 120ft. and dim light to a further 240ft. beyond that. Every round, undead creatures within 120ft. of Eadric must make Fortitude saving throws (DC 67) or be destroyed (as if _disintegrated_); evil outsiders must make Will saving throws (DC67) or be stunned. The aura may be suppressed or resumed as a free action. The Save DCs are Charisma-based and include a +2 holy power bonus.
*Irresistible Blows (Bastard Sword):* When Eadric makes a melee attack his weapon against a creature, resolve the attack as a melee touch attack (the weapon blow ignores armor and natural armor bonuses). If the weapon hits, the creature struck must make a Fortitude save (DC 64) or be stunned for 1d10 rounds. Eadric’s attacks are considered to be adamantine for purposes of bypassing damage reduction and hardness. The Save DC is Constitution-based and includes a +2 holy power bonus.
*Mastery of Void (Unique SDA):* As a standard action, Eadric may channel his divine power in order to assert his transcendence of nonbeing; Eadric treats chthonic entities or entities predicated on non-_ens_ as undead with regard to either turning/destroying or rebuking/commanding: the _Ahma_ chooses which at the moment when he channels the energy. Eadric makes his turning or rebuking checks as a 61st-level cleric with a +28 modifier to the roll. Chthonic entities receive effective turn resistance equal to half their spell resistance (round down).
*Reason with the Damned (Unique SDA):* Eadric may make a special check when dealing with any devil or fallen celestial from the Oronthonist schema. At the conclusion of the interaction, the entity must make a Will saving throw (DC = Eadric’s Diplomacy skill check); failure indicates that the creature’s attitude toward Eadric becomes _friendly_. Subsequent interactions with the creature result in the following:
- A second failed saving throw moves the creature’s attitude to _helpful_ and, if it possesses it, the creature loses the [evil] subtype
- A third failed save moves the creature’s attitude to one of _fanatic loyalty_ as the creature embraces the philosophy of _Saizhan_
Time required for necessary interactions may vary.

*Blinding Speed (Ex):* Eadric may act as though _hasted_ for up to five rounds per day; this need not be continuous. Activating Blinding Speed is a free action.
*Constant Smiting (Su):* All of Eadric’s melee attacks are considered smite evil attempts; against evil creatures, Eadric makes melee attacks with a +22 bonus and deals an extra 30 points of damage.
*Detect Evil (Su): *Eadric can use this ability at will to the range of his normal vision (6 miles).
*Domain Powers (Su): *
Domain powers are supernatural effects, Each domain power is usable six times per day.
_Protection:_ As a standard action Eadric can grant a +61 resistance bonus to a target’s next saving throw. This ability is an abjuration effect with a duration of 1 hour.
_Renewal:_ If reduced to between -1 and -10 hit points, Eadric is automatically healed of 1d8+22 points of damage. 
_Strength:_ As a free action Eadric can gain a +61 bonus to Strength which lasts for 1 round.
_Sun:_ Eadric may opt to make a Greater Turning check in lieu of a normal one. Undead which would normally be turned are instead destroyed.
*Hit and Critical Hit Save Regime:* Creatures struck by _Lukarn_ must make Fortitude saving throws (DC 64) or be stunned for 1d10 rounds (Irresistible Blows SDA); in addition, chaotic evil outsiders must make Will saving throws (DC 68) or be subject to _wrathful castigation_ (_Lukarn_ special purpose power). If Eadric scores a critical hit, targets must make a Fortitude saving throw (DC 67) or be slain (Devastating Critical); evil outsiders must make an additional Fortitude saving throw (DC 68) or be slain (_fiend dread_ ability of _Lukarn_).
*Holy Power (Su): *The DC to resist all of the Ahma's special attacks, including spells and spell-like abilities, increases by +2. 
*Perfect Excellence (Ex): *Eadric receives a +10 sacred bonus to his Strength, Dexterity and Wisdom. These are included in his stat block.
*Spell-Like Abilities: *At will: _antimagic field, atonement, bless, bull’s strength, daylight, discern lies, dispel evil, enlarge person, fire shield, flame strike, freedom, greater restoration, hallow, heroes’ feast, holy aura, magic vestment, mass heal, neutralize poison, prismatic sphere, protection from energy, reincarnate, remove disease, repulsion, resistance, righteous might, sanctuary, shield other, spell immunity, spell resistance, stoneskin, sunburst, zone of revelation, zone of truth_. Three times per day, he can use a _holy word_. Caster level 61. Save DC is 40+ spell level and includes a +2 holy power bonus.
*Spells:* Eadric can spontaneously cast any spell on the Paladin spell list (7/7/7/7 spells per day; CL33; DC 34+ spell level). 
_*Imbue with Spell Ability (Sp): *_Eadric can imbue the ability to cast any Paladin spell upon a willing recipient by sacrificing a spell slot; the subject retains the ability for 24 hours. This ability is the equivalent of a 7th-level spell (CL61).
*Turn Undead (Su): *At will, as a standard action. Eadric makes his turning checks as a 61st-level cleric with a +28 modifier to the roll.

*Possessions*

*Lukarn [Major Artifact]*
Lukarn is an intelligent _+10 keen, holy power, radiant blast, fiend dread bastard sword_ (AL LG; Int 14, Wis 25, Cha 26; 120 ft. darkvision, blindsense and hearing, Ego 69). Lukarn understands Celestial and Common and communicates through empathy. 

When unsheathed, Lukarn evokes _blinding glory_ (heightened to 30th level) in a 3000-ft. radius; evil creatures within this area are automatically blinded. This effect counters and dispels all darkness effects of 30th-level or lower within its area; if brought into an area of existing magical darkness, otherwise prevailing light conditions exist in the overlapping area of effect. The effect moves with the wielder.

Lukarn has the special purpose _slay chaotic evil outsiders_; such creatures are subject to _wrathful castigation_ (heightened to 30th level, Save DC 68) if struck. Three times per day, Lukarn can _heal_ its wielder of up to 250 hit points of damage as a free action. 

Caster Level is 30th for all abilities. The wielder's Charisma and DvR determine the Save DCs of special abilities. Lukarn is valued at 25 million gp.

*Skin of Sarth [Major Artifact]*
This _+10 heavy fortification full plate armor_ grants the wearer damage reduction 20/adamantine. The wearer incurs no penalty to speed, no armor check penalty to skill checks, and suffers no maximum Dexterity bonus. (16M)

*Shield of the Ahma [Major Artifact]*
This _+10 great reflection heavy steel shield_ grants a +10 resistance bonus to saving throws. It incurs no armor check penalty. (12M)

*Visuit’s Bracelets [Major Artifact]*
_Visuit's Bracelets_ are _bracers of relentless might_ which grant to the wearer the ability to perceive events on other planes. The wearer's senses extend into all coterminous planes to their normal limit (in Eadric's case, six miles). Natural weapons and weapons wielded by the wearer gain the _ghost touch_ special ability, and any spell or spell-like ability used by the wearer is considered to be under the effect of the Transdimensional Spell metamagic feat. As a standard action, the wearer of the bracelets may make a grasping gesture toward a target on a coterminous plane within 100ft. of his position: a creature so targeted is subject to a _make manifest_ spell (heightened to 30th-level), and is dragged onto the plane of the bracelets’ wearer unless he or she makes a Will saving throw (DC 68). Caster level 30th. The wearer's Charisma and DvR determine the Save DC. (10M)[/sblock]

[sblock]*Narh*

Reconfigured _Narh_, less perishable and more suited as the steed of a lesser deity. Speed is outrageous due to liberal stacking of effects as a quasi-divine legendary paragon with magical horseshoes. At full gallop, _Narh_ moves at a little under 600mph: he can cover a mile in a round.

_Narh_ was originally conceived as a simple /) paragon warbeast monster of legend equine quasi-deity; it soon became clear that he wasn’t cutting the mustard – specifically when compared to Nehael’s horse, Sura, who I’d statted as a _legendary_ paragon monster of legend with 18HD. As _Narh_ was supposed to be – _by definition_ – the greatest of all horses, this necessitated some back-engineering and a little handwaving, as usual. This is the final, final version. _Narh_’s horseshoes are set against Eadric’s predicted wealth.

*Narh* Fully Advanced Elite Legendary Horse (Paragon, Warbeast, Monster of Legend, Quasi-Deity)

*Size/Type:* Large Outsider (Augmented Animal, Native)
*Hit Dice:* 37d8+999+444 (1739hp)
*Initiative:* +20
*Speed:* 1030ft. 
*Armor Class:* 71 (-1 size, +8 deflection, +16 Dex, +1 dodge, +12 insight, +12 luck, +13 natural); touch 58, flat-footed 55
*Base Attack/Grapple:* +27/+82
*Attack:* Hoof +77 melee (2d8+45/15-20x3)
*Full Attack:* 3 hooves +77 melee (2d8+45/15-20x3) and bite +76 melee (1d8+32/18-20x3)
*Space/Reach:* 10 ft./5 ft.
*Special Attacks:* Augmented critical, Devastating Critical
*Special Qualities:* DR 10/epic, evasion, fast healing 20, greater damage, haste, immunities (ability damage, ability drain, energy drain, fear, mind-affecting effects, poison, transmutation), low-light vision, resistances (fire 10, cold 10), scent, SR 63, tireless
*Saves:* Fort +66, Ref +50, Will +37
*Abilities:* Str 61, Dex 43, Con 65, Int 19, Wis 36, Cha 27
*Skills:* Balance +90, Escape Artist +66, Jump +499, Listen +64, Spot +64, Tumble +90
*Feats:* Cleave, Dash, Devastating Critical (hoof), Dire Charge, Epic Fortitude, Great Cleave, Great Fortitude, Improved Critical (hoof), Improved Initiative, Improved Multiattack, Improved Overrun, Multiattack, Overwhelming Critical (hoof), Power Attack, Run, Weapon Focus (hoof)
*Challenge Rating: *38


*Devastating Critical (Ex):* A creature struck by a critical hit from one of _Narh_’s hooves must make a Fortitude saving throw (DC 66) or die. The Save DC is Constitution-based and includes a +13 paragon insight bonus.
*Hasted (Su): *Narh is supernaturally quick as though under the effect of a _haste_ spell.
*See Invisibility(Su): *Narh is constantly under this effect, as the spell.
*Immortal:* Narh does not need to eat, sleep or breathe. He does not age.
*Tireless (Ex): *Narh is immune to the effects of fatigue and exhaustion. He does not incur any penalties or suffer damage when spurred, and is always considered spurred.

Narh's natural weapons are considered epic for the purposes of overcoming damage reduction.

*Horseshoes:* These horseshoes were forged by the god Jaliere and combine the effects of _boots of swiftness_ and _horseshoes of a zephyr_ (300K).[/sblock]


----------



## Starman

As always, very cool. Thanks for the update.


----------



## RedTonic

Thanks for sharing the statblocks. It's a nifty window into what goes on behind the scenes.


----------



## Erevanden

Eadric's getting pretty über on his own 

Can't wait to see what's going on in the Cheshnite camp, especially the remaining Immortals 

I wonder if any of them is going to present even a moderate challenge to our protagonists, seeing as they are now...??


----------



## Quartz

Wow. I stand in awe at how you put things together. A couple of quick queries, though.

Would Eadric's Enkindle SDA be more thematic if it affected those with a certain number of Exalted feats instead? After all, as is, it doesn't affect full celestials, and does affect evil half-celestials.

Does Eadric's Void Mastery affect his interactions with Spheres of Annihilation and Umbral Blots? Could he _Resurrect_ someone annihilated?


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Quartz said:
			
		

> Would Eadric's Enkindle SDA be more thematic if it affected those with a certain number of Exalted feats instead? After all, as is, it doesn't affect full celestials, and does affect evil half-celestials.




The only creatures in the campaign with the half-celestial template are those Saints previously resurrected by Eadric, and the Illuminated of Morne resurrected by Nwm's _Reversal_ of the _Storm of Blood_ - dormant Flames, which can be effectively further awakened. Full celestials are _sooo_ last aeon...



> Does Eadric's Void Mastery affect his interactions with Spheres of Annihilation and Umbral Blots?




Such things are not.  



> Could he _Resurrect_ someone annihilated?




If you are talking about an entity which _becomes nothing_, it would depend on who was annihilated and who did the annihilating. Cheshne's approval (or at least, non-denial) is implicitly required.


----------



## Quartz

Sepulchrave II said:


> The only creatures in the campaign with the half-celestial template are those Saints previously resurrected by Eadric, and the Illuminated of Morne resurrected by Nwm's _Reversal_ of the _Storm of Blood_ - dormant Flames, which can be effectively further awakened.




So, there's potentially a _whole city_ of DvR1 beings?


----------



## grodog

Um, why did this thread go from 89 to 134 pages long since my last posting??


----------



## Rackhir

grodog said:


> Um, why did this thread go from 89 to 134 pages long since my last posting??




I think the default # of postings per page changed.


----------



## grodog

**bump**


----------



## Erevanden

Ekhm...

_Now marvellous and weighty the bumping,
Right well they bump, Grodog and Cheiromancer,
A thousand bumps come from Siuis' hand,
The other subscribers are nothing short of that,
With one accord join bumping all the readers.
Bumps are posted by hundred, by thousand.
_


----------



## Azakiel

Hi Sep,

I don't suppose there is any chance that you have finished the template for the perfected dignity to a state you'd be willing to share it with us?

Also, would you mind explaining roughly how you work out the mitigation amount for dark subsumption?

Thanks


----------



## grodog

This is the first time I've seen Wyre stories mentioned somewhere off of ENWorld that wasn't me mentioning them:  paladins with expense accounts  Blog of Holding 

Seems like a lucky find for Friday the 13th


----------



## grodog

Month-end bump!


----------



## grodog

And another Blog of Holding post, this about the wizards of Wyre:  who are the best of the best?  Blog of Holding


----------



## Gwarok

Ok, great updates, even though I am about 4 months late to that party  

I do have a few questions.   I was under the impression that population sizes in Wyre were around middle ages European size.   In that case, it seems to me that having an undead army of 15 million, the Chesnites already have annihilated a major percentage of the campaign world.    I may be missing the a few of the finer points, but it seems to me everything south of Galda got waxed horrifically because Eadric couldn't keep it in his pants re: Sonneilion.    Are they really fighting just to save their corner of the world at this point?

Which bring me to the other thing nagging at me.   Sonnellion brings new meaning to the term wicked tough.   I was looking at her stats and she now appears to be able to kick the crap out of well, everyone.   Ghom, First Effluxiation of Kaanallaan(sp?), even the unaugmented Adversary.   I guess it really was a long time ago when the Immortals of Cheshne seemed like badasses, but those days are long gone.   Was that just a result of putting the campaign inspired templates to her, a result of "all infinities colliding" in her character?  I know at this level making the mechanics balanced while jiving with the storyline can be impossible.   Just wondering, as she seemed nutso tough.  

Also, Eadric's Enkindled portfolio forgot to include SDA: Divine Gigalo.  Keep it up playa, you're doing the lords work


----------



## daftendirekt

...No way.

So, a friend of mine just discovered this blog post about a week ago, and I started from the beginning reading this amazing and epic story. I of course noticed that it started back in 2002, and so far (I'm just finishing up Rape of Morne part 1) it's still in 2002. I thought the whole thing would be in 2002, maybe 2003. 

Then, on a whim, I decided to look at the very end. Click the last link in that blog post, and go to the last page of the thread, which is here. And the campaign is *STILL GOING*. That is mind-blowing. Ten years. TEN FRIGGIN' YEARS you've been playing this game. That is dedication on everyone's part. Liking a character that much to keep with it all that time. As the DM, having enough material to keep the story going all that time. Just, to use the word that I've seen hundreds of times in response.... "wow". 

Here I thought I'd discovered an old gem, when I'd really just discovered the buried bottom of a monolith that's still growing. Keep going, Sepulchrave, you're effing amazing. Now I just need to catch up... which will take another few weeks probably.


----------



## carborundum

One can only concur. Hurrah for Sep!


----------



## grodog

Post-GenCon bump!


----------



## Camris

*Bump!*

Horacio memorial bump.

_"I'm still alive!"_--Horacio


----------



## Soramain

Two days ago I was cleaning up some documents folders on my computer (lots of duplicate files for some reason).  I ran across some compilation files of this SH that someone had made and clicked one open.  

At least, I think it was two days ago.  I sort of stopped paying attention until I got to the end again.

Obsessive refresh BUMP.


----------



## Gwarok

SEP!!   We miss your updates, I hope you can make some time for your fans soon.   After 6 months my skin kinda starts to itch and things get...weird


----------



## grodog

Le bump!


----------



## Standish

Did we ever find out who, or what killed Ninit (and the Boars)?

   It was during the time of Shvar Choryati,
      --"The roll of those who could not be recovered was long and depressing: "....

http://www.enworld.org/forum/story-hour/58227-tales-wyre-16.html


----------



## tleilaxu

this topic is interesting on its own merits, but can also help in thinking about the various entities floating through sep's finitude. 

Cataphatic theology - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia


----------



## Erevanden

Hmmm, I read most of the SH yet again, and connot rid myself of a strange feeling, that there are still some entities behind the scenes that are remaining hidden


----------



## Cheiromancer

Pre-Halloween Bump.


----------



## grodog

Back from working in CA last week bump.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Halloween Bump!


----------



## Erevanden

Halloween Bump #2!


----------



## grodog

Post-Halloween BUMP!


----------



## Cheiromancer

Remember, Remember, the 5th of November!

(Guy Fawkes day bump)


----------



## Erevanden

Rimilin !! Yeshe !! I call ye forth !! Reveal yourselves !!


----------



## pogre

Election day bump!


----------



## Erevanden

Sep, I have a question regarding two epic spells from your campaign, namely - _Ecstasy of Negation_, utilized by Soneillon and _Ground of Being_, found in the write-up of The Adversary. 

Could you provide some crunch for those spells ?? 

I've been searching my buttcheeks off time and again trying to find anything on this or the older threads


----------



## grodog

pogre said:


> Election day bump!




Post-election day bump!  

Bump!

BUMP!!

B_U_M_P!!!


----------



## grodog

The 10 days later bump!


----------



## Gwarok

Sep?  You there buddy?  We miss you


----------



## omgwadh

Gwarok said:


> Sep?  You there buddy?  We miss you





Seconded!


----------



## Nightbreeze

A couple of questions for those who remember the story better than I do
(alas, I don't have the time to reread it all)

1. How did Sep manage the epic Fortification of characteristics? I remember that they implicitly denied the abuse of the absurd +INT bonus they got from the ritual intended to use the web of motes, but how about your standard everyday +20/30to INT / STR etc. Green benediction had a +20 to three abilities I think.

I am asking because my group has a circle of wizards providing a total of -250 mitigation. (it was -400 before, but they were unprepared for the assassins, hehehe). We agree that this aspect of the epic spells has to be contained, but not sure what rule to establish. (been thinking about "enhancement bonus to characteristics cannot be higher to half the CL of primary caster).

2) At what point did the Claviger enter the scene and what was its effect on the warfare. Did he come in before the start of the war with the Chesnites? I think that he included divine magic in his rules after the start (which pissed them off). Can you link me to its rules? Also, why did Mostin willingly limit himself by binding Gihaaia...and actually, what IS the Claviger and how did they awaken him? xD

Sorry, so much to remember and I don't.


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

Nightbrezee, I think re-reading the whole thing is a good start. 

As for the wizards ... high level casters tend to be highly indyvidualistic people. Convincing that many to work together for the epic spell is an adventure in itself. From what I remember of the Sep's party stats they have templates and often use that to mitigate buff-power. Or spam dispels on enemies approaching. 

My personal mitigation on additional participans is simple. For the purpouses of Epic spell you couldn't get more extra casters than Your natural primary casting ability bonus. With int 43 it is 16 extra casters. And I never let my players treat NPC's as their "walking wallets" but like "real people".


----------



## tleilaxu

so when i came on and saw the board had gotten hacked, what was the first thought?

'omg, what happened to sep's thread? is it gone?'

sep, if you never post again you've already given me a lot. 
of course as good ol' uncle ovid says, we always want more:

'nitimur in vetitum semper cupimusque negatum'


----------



## Nightbreeze

Rikandur Azebol said:


> Nightbrezee, I think re-reading the whole thing is a good start.
> 
> As for the wizards ... high level casters tend to be highly indyvidualistic people. Convincing that many to work together for the epic spell is an adventure in itself. From what I remember of the Sep's party stats they have templates and often use that to mitigate buff-power. Or spam dispels on enemies approaching.
> 
> My personal mitigation on additional participans is simple. For the purpouses of Epic spell you couldn't get more extra casters than Your natural primary casting ability bonus. With int 43 it is 16 extra casters. And I never let my players treat NPC's as their "walking wallets" but like "real people".




I agree that NPC's are not to be treated as walking wallets, but my group has been building and defending a city since 2006, so they pretty much have deserved the loyalty of the local low-mid level spellcasters  Which of course means that I already manage to murder a third of them because they were not careful enough, and may manage to get the now heavily defended group of spellcasters infiltrated by "refugee" mages from other cities.

In the end we opted for a "enhancement bonus can't be higher than 1/2 your caster level".

I will admit that I am shamelessly stealing stuff from Sep's files 

A depowered Visuit (without her deific bonuses) almost TPKed the party the first time she met them. She has a special theme ("molecular destruction" by audiomachine) and now they  their pants whenever they hear it (has happened twice in the last 2 years).


----------



## grodog

tleilaxu said:


> so when i came on and saw the board had gotten hacked, what was the first thought?
> 
> 'omg, what happened to sep's thread? is it gone?'




Seconded!  (And a pre-Christmas bump!  ).


----------



## Erevanden

I'm currently suffering from pharyngitis, yesterday had to take dipyrone incjection (high degree fever, 39,5 celsius), and was wondering, if Sep could ease my bedstay with an update ??


----------



## Gwarok

I have to say, although my hopes were not high, knowing Sep's love of pagan calendar events I was kinda hoping of an update on the Solstice.   Oh well    MERRY CHRISTMAS ALL, especially to my favorite story hour contributor!


----------



## Quartz

With a new episode of OoTS, can Sepulchrave be far behind?


----------



## grodog

Does anyone by chance have a set of links or bookmarks dealing with all of the substantial posts on the web of motes?


----------



## grodog

BUMP!


----------



## grodog

grodog said:


> Does anyone by chance have a set of links or bookmarks dealing with all of the substantial posts on the web of motes?




A) Yes, B) No, C) You need an ENWorld Supporter Account, D) Other?


----------



## Salthorae

hey grodog... I felt bad since no one was replying!

I do not have an indexed set of links dealing with the web of motes. That would be a good project from some of the board to engage though! Not just for the web of motes, but an Index of Links for main characters, recurring themes, recurring villains, locations, powerful artifact objects... who else wants to do this? We could start a wiki like page that linked to references of everything. Then we can just refer people to that wiki if they want to search for it?

Alternately we could have people scour the story and/or the Cheiromancer compiled story board and tag posts with relevant key words. That would help those with community supporter accounts...


----------



## tleilaxu

my condcordance. anyone wants to pick this up, or use it to help them with some other document, godspeed.

http://www.enworld.org/forum/showth...riends)/page11&p=809117&viewfull=1#post809117

http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?5652-Eadric-et-al-(The-Paladin-and-his-Friends)


----------



## doodius

Just finished Tales of the Wyre and looking forward to the next update.


----------



## Erevanden

Bump !! Sepulchrave Summoning Technique !!


----------



## grodog

We invoke thee, Sepulchrave!  
_
*1 WITCH.  *Round about the caldron go;
    In the poison'd entrails throw.—
    Toad, that under cold stone,
    Days and nights has thirty-one;
    Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
    Boil thou first i' the charmed pot!
*ALL.  *Double, double toil and trouble;
    Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
*       2 WITCH.  *Fillet of a fenny snake,
    In the caldron boil and bake;
    Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
    Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
    Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
    Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,—
    For a charm of powerful trouble,
    Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
*       ALL.  *Double, double toil and trouble;
    Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
*       3 WITCH.  *Scale of dragon; tooth of wolf;
    Witches' mummy; maw and gulf
    Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark;
    Root of hemlock digg'd i the dark;
    Liver of blaspheming Jew;
    Gall of goat, and slips of yew
    Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse;
    Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips;
    Finger of birth-strangled babe
    Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,—
    Make the gruel thick and slab:
    Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
    For the ingrediants of our caldron.
*       ALL.  *Double, double toil and trouble;
    Fire burn, and caldron bubble.
*       2 WITCH.  *Cool it with a baboon's blood,
    Then the charm is firm and good. _


----------



## grodog

tleilaxu said:


> my condcordance. anyone wants to pick this up, or use it to help them with some other document, godspeed.
> 
> http://www.enworld.org/forum/showth...riends)/page11&p=809117&viewfull=1#post809117
> http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?5652-Eadric-et-al-(The-Paladin-and-his-Friends)




Thanks tleilaxu:  I'd forgotten about that.  That helped somewhat, but still doesn't point me to posts/instances of "web of motes" in the individual posts, alas.  It does remind me, though, that I may be able to pull this info out of the word .doc file I'd compiled those many moons ago....


----------



## Soramain

If someone wants to put in the effort of extracting the world details Sep has revealed from the stories and combine them with the stats in the rogue's gallery thread... well, I'd subscribe to that person's newsletter.  I have a hard time doing that for my own campaign, though.

It's amazing that it's been almost a year since the last update and I still check this at least once every week or two.


----------



## Bloodcookie

This may not be precisely what you're looking for, and doesn't address the _Web_ at all, but it's a compilation of world elements Sep has discussed, along with some more recent stat blocks from the story thread.


----------



## Soramain

Thank you!

Sadly, I must spread some experience around before giving some to you again.


----------



## Quartz

An "Eleven months and no update " bump.


----------



## Quartz

An "Eleven months and no update " bump.


----------



## Erevanden

Hmmm, maybe we should each take a week off, find out what Sep looks like, go to his town and start stalking him, wearing black shirts with "Update your threads, _Saizho_ ?"


----------



## Erevanden

Guys, I think we should start thinking about setting a "_Number of bumps in a single thread_" world record 

Oh, and *BUMP *for *"Spring is coming !!" *


----------



## Neurotic

Let's try.

*BUMP *for *"Spring has come!!"*


----------



## pogre

Erevanden said:


> Guys, I think we should start thinking about setting a "_Number of bumps in a single thread_" world record
> 
> Oh, and *BUMP *for *"Spring is coming !!" *




Clearly you were not here during the great Horatio vigil 

Oh, and BUMP for the cause.


----------



## grodog

[MENTION=63829]Horatio[/MENTION] : can we get a little help please?


----------



## Noir

*BUMP*


----------



## Quartz

Are we going to go a year between updates?


----------



## omgwadh

If I recall correctly, That's how this whole thing started...

Maybe we need Horacio's help.


----------



## Standish

And so let us mark sadly one year passing
  And re-read a random page in remembrance


----------



## Noir

BUMP


----------



## tleilaxu

"Two souls alas! are dwelling in my breast;
And each is fain to leave its brother.
The one, fast clinging, to the world adheres
With clutching organs, in love's sturdy lust;
The other strongly lifts itself from dust
To yonder high, ancestral spheres.
Oh, are there spirits hovering near,
That ruling weave, twixt earth and heaven are rife,
Descend! come from the golden atmosphere
And lead me hence to new and varied life!" -j.w.g.


----------



## Azakiel

Can anyone remember if Sep has set a value on the XP Reservoir of Greater Powers?


----------



## Rikandur Azebol

I believe Sep did so, but it is buried deep in the posts with the mechanics etc ...


----------



## Noir

O Sep where art thou?


----------



## Azakiel

And yet another question, has anyone managed to reverse engineer the changes Sep made to Divine Glibness (specifically the DC) or did he post the change somewhere I missed?

Also, what mechanical effect, if any does the Dream Subtype have?


----------



## grodog

A bump-in-the-night bump.


----------



## Noir

July BUMP!


----------



## remetagross

I registered only to BUMP it


----------



## Noir

"I'm on vacation and need good literature"-BUMP!


----------



## grodog

The "Hey, it's been awhile" BUMP!


----------



## Gwarok

Sep, seriously, tell me how much and where to send it, I'll pay cash money for an update


----------



## grodog

Bumpity bump.


----------



## omgwadh

Can anyone remember, is this the longest wait for an update ever?

I still check back every few days just because I love the story, but I am wondering if this is it.

Anyone?


----------



## Cheiromancer

Has anyone done any fan-fic set in the story universe? It would be kind of neat if an author with a good thesaurus and a lot of esoteric knowledge tried their hand at advancing the story.


----------



## Enkhidu

Cheiromancer said:


> Has anyone done any fan-fic set in the story universe? It would be kind of neat if an author with a good thesaurus and a lot of esoteric knowledge tried their hand at advancing the story.




The idea of fanfic to what is essentially fanfic is all kinds of awesome.


----------



## Noir

Sep, please update! I miss my favorite heroes.


----------



## grodog

September bump!


----------



## grodog

Post Friday the 13th bump!


----------



## Graywolf-ELM

I read the whole Story Hour again and am still in Awe at the depth of thought and topical knowledge, as well as the entertainment.  Thank you yet again


----------



## Erevanden

I'm starting to think we should create a kickstarter for this thread to get it on the road again 

And for Oronthon's sake, BUMP, BUMP,  BUUUUMP !!


----------



## grodog

Erevanden said:


> I'm starting to think we should create a kickstarter for this thread to get it on the road again




Now *there's* a nice idea!  Hey [MENTION=4303]Sepulchrave II[/MENTION] would you consider something like that? 

edit:  "You must spread some Experience Points around before giving it to Erevanden again."  Someone help me out, please?


----------



## messy

grodog said:


> Now *there's* a nice idea!  Hey Sep, would you consider something like that?
> 
> edit:  "You must spread some Experience Points around before giving it to Erevanden again."  Someone help me out, please?




got ya covered.


----------



## grodog

October bump.


----------



## omgwadh

Unless I miscalculate this is 18 month BUMP!

Can't seem to give up, don't check as often as I used to but still every few days


----------



## grodog

omgwadh said:


> Unless I miscalculate this is 18 month BUMP!




Ouch!  

And now it's November.


----------



## Soramain

*I did it again*

I miss this story hour, I thought. I'll just read one post, I said to myself. 

Four hours and a few dozen updates later...

Longing-for-an-update bump.


----------



## grodog

Soramain said:


> I miss this story hour, I thought. I'll just read one post, I said to myself.
> Four hours and a few dozen updates later...
> Longing-for-an-update bump.




Right there with you.  Now an update would be a wonderful Christmas present!


----------



## tleilaxu

still waiting!


----------



## grodog

tleilaxu said:


> still waiting!




Indeed!---nearly-Christmas-Eve bump!


----------



## Bloodcookie

_Seasons became years; and years, ages,
And in the fullness of time, the names
Soneillon and Eadric were forgotten.
But mystics and exegetes would still ponder the myth
Of the Black Dakini who consumed the Sun,
Whereby He found liberation._

Saizha?


----------



## AlexanderRM

I first of all wanted to say how awesome this is. I'd say it's definitely the best... fanfic or campaign log I've read, if that seems like a logical category. I really just love the worldbuilding; it's honestly better made than most professional TV, movie, or book worlds. I must admit I'm less loving the epic part, although it's still good... it was cool at first but at some point it got really into the nature of reality at some point, and it feels like the world itself- Wyre and everywhere- is getting pushed aside a bit, especially considering how fragile and vulnerable it is. And the whole planar structure with all the wonderful stuff in there has been completely destroyed. I must say though that literally everything else about it really shows how to do epic campaigns right.

And on that note, a specific issue with the threads- I've been reading this via Cheiromancer's compilations (in the Tales of Wyre thread), and I seem to have missed at least one *really* important update, where the trees emerged and the whole planar structure was rearranged. I'm in the Down portion where basically the whole plot is about the trees (it almost feels like the Cult of Cheshne has been briefly forgotten about) and I'm *still* piecing together what the heck happened. Unfortunately that also happened around the time I took a several-month break from archive hauling this (I was reading it near the end of summer and stopped when school started), which is extra confusing. Was that posted in here but not copied over?


----------



## pogre

In some ways this thread is like the retro-clone movement for me. An attempt to go back into a different time in gaming. There was once a time when the story hour forum was alive and vibrant. Sepulchrave's work was always the king for me, but I miss seeing Kevin Kulp of Piratecat's story hour bumping Ben Durbin of Wulf Ratbane's story hour. I miss the OldOne's continuing saga and a myriad of other tales that stretched through the years. Now it's all gone. Save for me ducking in here once in a while with the glimmer of hope that the king will return.


----------



## grodog

pogre said:


> In some ways this thread is like the retro-clone movement for me. An attempt to go back into a different time in gaming. There was once a time when the story hour forum was alive and vibrant. Sepulchrave's work was always the king for me, but I miss seeing Kevin Kulp of Piratecat's story hour bumping Ben Durbin of Wulf Ratbane's story hour. I miss the OldOne's continuing saga and a myriad of other tales that stretched through the years. Now it's all gone. Save for me ducking in here once in a while with the glimmer of hope that the king will return.




Well-said, pogre.  With Neil Gaiman writing Sandman again, perhaps Sep will feel inspired to do the same? 

Oh, and "You must spread some Experience Points around before giving it to pogre again."---someone help me out?


----------



## Felix

It's been a few years, but I thought I'd pop my head in here and say "Hi" to everybody.

Hi, everybody!

And I miss Wyre.


----------



## grodog

Pre-GaryCon VI bump!


----------



## Siuis

daftendirekt said:


> ...No way.
> 
> So, a friend of mine just discovered this blog post about a week ago, and I started from the beginning reading this amazing and epic story. I of course noticed that it started back in 2002, and so far (I'm just finishing up Rape of Morne part 1) it's still in 2002. I thought the whole thing would be in 2002, maybe 2003.
> 
> Then, on a whim, I decided to look at the very end. Click the last link in that blog post, and go to the last page of the thread, which is here. And the campaign is *STILL GOING*. That is mind-blowing. Ten years. TEN FRIGGIN' YEARS you've been playing this game. That is dedication on everyone's part. Liking a character that much to keep with it all that time. As the DM, having enough material to keep the story going all that time. Just, to use the word that I've seen hundreds of times in response.... "wow".
> 
> Here I thought I'd discovered an old gem, when I'd really just discovered the buried bottom of a monolith that's still growing. Keep going, Sepulchrave, you're effing amazing. Now I just need to catch up... which will take another few weeks probably.




Welcome, friend. Welcome to a land where the greatest pains are trying. To find where you left off~



Soramain said:


> If someone wants to put in the effort of extracting the world details Sep has revealed from the stories and combine them with the stats in the rogue's gallery thread... well, I'd subscribe to that person's newsletter.  I have a hard time doing that for my own campaign, though.
> 
> It's amazing that it's been almost a year since the last update and I still check this at least once every week or two.




Well... Why?

I've had some success making mock of this style for my own games, but the benefit comes more from understanding the structures and the reasons for their existence than from direct copying. For a 3.X game, Wyre establishes and enforces certai assumptions about what things mean that are different from standard, and it's the unequivocal player buy in which makes it work. Wizards being scholars who devote their lives rather than just being a class of people who happen to own reality. Outsiders who matter.  Gods and powers which present more than X hit dice outsider when you think about them – that's a big one, it's very hard to generate proper reverence or respect for these guys in most games. The historic bases with game world and game rule touches are what make this so fantastic; the nobles of a fallen land joi
Joining a vampiric prefigure, the enormous cost in horseflesh to maintain griffon cavalry, the barbarian army building a brewery because without beer, what is war? The feedback loop wherein dramatic and interesting story progressions create a natural progression of mechanics using templates and class stacking. These are more important than any actual rule or mechanic sepulchrave has given us. These are the weight of a world that functions and runs. These create texture.

That texture is more valuable than the rules which, for one man and one group with specific focus and certain traits that likely will never compile again, created that texture. =)



Bloodcookie said:


> This may not be precisely what you're looking for, and doesn't address the _Web_ at all, but it's a compilation of world elements Sep has discussed, along with some more recent stat blocks from the story thread.




Ooh, quoted for dissection when I'm at a computer not a phone.



Enkhidu said:


> The idea of fanfic to what is essentially fanfic is all kinds of awesome.




That's basically what any reimagining of the divine comedy is, though.



Erevanden said:


> I'm starting to think we should create a kickstarter for this thread to get it on the road again
> 
> And for Oronthon's sake, BUMP, BUMP,  BUUUUMP !!




I would contribute the hell out of that. Into that? Whatever. XD



AlexanderRM said:


> I first of all wanted to say how awesome this is. I'd say it's definitely the best... fanfic or campaign log I've read, if that seems like a logical category. I really just love the worldbuilding; it's honestly better made than most professional TV, movie, or book worlds. I must admit I'm less loving the epic part, although it's still good... it was cool at first but at some point it got really into the nature of reality at some point, and it feels like the world itself- Wyre and everywhere- is getting pushed aside a bit, especially considering how fragile and vulnerable it is. And the whole planar structure with all the wonderful stuff in there has been completely destroyed. I must say though that literally everything else about it really shows how to do epic campaigns right.
> 
> And on that note, a specific issue with the threads- I've been reading this via Cheiromancer's compilations (in the Tales of Wyre thread), and I seem to have missed at least one *really* important update, where the trees emerged and the whole planar structure was rearranged. I'm in the Down portion where basically the whole plot is about the trees (it almost feels like the Cult of Cheshne has been briefly forgotten about) and I'm *still* piecing together what the heck happened. Unfortunately that also happened around the time I took a several-month break from archive hauling this (I was reading it near the end of summer and stopped when school started), which is extra confusing. Was that posted in here but not copied over?




I think that's intentional actually. For one, Sep stepped away from linear chronicles and decided to write what worked well and excited him, meaning we didn't get information that was important for the narrative from a history view but not important for drama. For two, the sudden emergence of the trees without apology or explanation seems to me to be their entire praxis, having fractured the world, thrown everything into chaos, putting on their sunglasses and whispering "deal with it" when the wind blows through their boughs just so.

It's like a metaphysical meteor. You aren't given an explanation of the fallout, you just know there was an explosion, the weather is weird, the air is radioactive (which you learned from getting sick) and that's you have to deal with it from now on regardless of how well you understand the reasons.


----------



## Soramain

Siuis said:


> Well... Why?
> 
> I've had some success making mock of this style for my own games, but the benefit comes more from understanding the structures and the reasons for their existence than from direct copying. For a 3.X game, Wyre establishes and enforces certai assumptions about what things mean that are different from standard, and it's the unequivocal player buy in which makes it work. Wizards being scholars who devote their lives rather than just being a class of people who happen to own reality. Outsiders who matter.  Gods and powers which present more than X hit dice outsider when you think about them – that's a big one, it's very hard to generate proper reverence or respect for these guys in most games. The historic bases with game world and game rule touches are what make this so fantastic; the nobles of a fallen land joi
> Joining a vampiric prefigure, the enormous cost in horseflesh to maintain griffon cavalry, the barbarian army building a brewery because without beer, what is war? The feedback loop wherein dramatic and interesting story progressions create a natural progression of mechanics using templates and class stacking. These are more important than any actual rule or mechanic sepulchrave has given us. These are the weight of a world that functions and runs. These create texture.
> 
> That texture is more valuable than the rules which, for one man and one group with specific focus and certain traits that likely will never compile again, created that texture. =)




Why? For convenience! I don't want to run Sep's campaign (although I sure wish I'd been playing it). It would just be neat to be able to read through the Story Hour thread and have the rules posts he made neatly arranged with the corresponding spot in the story. For example, Eadric has dealings with Soneillon in the story and she mentions something cool like the ecstasy of negation. Are there stats for that? I can't remember. If someone collated the SH and the stats, I could look at the most contemporaneous stats for Soneillon and see if there's a write up. Newsletter. I'd subscribe.


----------



## grodog

Soramain said:


> Why? For convenience! I don't want to run Sep's campaign (although I sure wish I'd been playing it). It would just be neat to be able to read through the Story Hour thread and have the rules posts he made neatly arranged with the corresponding spot in the story. For example, Eadric has dealings with Soneillon in the story and she mentions something cool like the ecstasy of negation. Are there stats for that? I can't remember. If someone collated the SH and the stats, I could look at the most contemporaneous stats for Soneillon and see if there's a write up. Newsletter. I'd subscribe.




The Word files I used to compile in the Yahoo Group were arranged chronologically with the SH episodes interleaved with the updates from the Rogues Gallery thread.  They're probably not quite exactly what you're talking about, Soramain, but may be as close as what you're going to get without building it yourself:  https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/Sepulchraves-Wyre/files

Allan.


----------



## pogre

Quartz said:


> Are we going to go a year between updates?




Nope - two at least. Bump.


----------



## Quartz

pogre said:


> Nope - two at least. Bump.




I fear Sep has ended Wyre, and what an ending it was.


----------



## Tal Rasha

Quartz said:


> I fear Sep has ended Wyre, and what an ending it was.




I certainly hope not. I've been reading a fair bit of fantasy recently, and still nothing compares.

Sepulchrave, your devoted readers are still here.


----------



## Gwarok

I hope Sep isn't dead or something.   Sep, if you're out there, can you drop a line to at least let us know whats up?   Some closure would be nice if you've wrapped things up  

And if you have indeed retired the saga, thank you so much for all the work putting it here for our enjoyment!


----------



## Quartz

I've just spotted that Tales of Wyre has its own page on TV Tropes.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Quartz said:


> I've just spotted that Tales of Wyre has its own page on TV Tropes.




And I'm quoted in it! (Near the bottom)

I have to disagree with Eadric being a chaste hero, though. Except early on - but after he started dating Soneillon...


----------



## Erevanden

Bump, I say, bump !!

We should do something about Sep's sudden disappearance. 

It's as if Goodkind or Martin, hell, Rowling even, just stopped writing somewhere mid saga. Only Sep's a better writer than the lot of them IMHO...


----------



## Knightfall

Cheiromancer said:


> And I'm quoted in it! (Near the bottom)
> 
> I have to disagree with Eadric being a chaste hero, though. Except early on - but after he started dating Soneillon...



You are so right.

And I agree with [MENTION=19940]Erevanden[/MENTION] about Sep's absence from the web site. Do we know if he is doing all right? While it would be great to get an update, I'm more concerned about him at this point.


----------



## Erevanden

The thread tile has changed...

Could it be...?


----------



## carborundum

Blimey! A development, a veritable development


----------



## Salthorae

It must be, it must be! 

Great googly moogly what a wonderful day that will be!


----------



## tleilaxu

what did the thread title used to be? viridity and saizhan? it's been a while....


----------



## Erevanden

tleilaxu said:


> what did the thread title used to be? viridity and saizhan? it's been a while....




It used to be "Pharamne's Urn"


----------



## Quartz

Now, just watch EN World crash as *everybody* checks the thread every 5 minutes for an update.


----------



## carborundum

Yea, for aeons to come ;-)


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Effluxion – Part 2: Small Hours*


The night air was motionless, and stifling. The stench of death filled it.

Wyrish troops manned the towers and parapets of Galda town and the nearby camp; elite companies of Templars mustered within the inner perimeter. Nehael – Red Nehael – rode alone along the outer rampart, her gaze turned south. Before her, a sea of undead seethed and roiled. Her mind’s eye, which could glimpse ten times further, encountered the same horror magnified a hundredfold.

Still, she shot; each dart which she loosed now caused the earth to convulse, or grasses and vines to grow in explosive violence. Her enemy perished by the battalion; legions replaced them. 

[Hlioth]: Now. Shoot [here]

Nehael shot.

The arrow struck the Earth, which shuddered. Hlioth, Teppu and Mesikammi set forth their power: a jade light began to kindle. First, as a pillar, it then erupted as a curtain of shimmering, emerald fire which tore a course six miles in circumference, describing a circle centered on the Elm scion to the north.  Nehael watched impassively as it encompassed Galda and penetrated deep into the undead host, stretching upwards into a dome; her deific perception felt it sink beneath her feet. The Green Witch had encapsulated them, sealing off a great multitude of the enemy within. There was a slow surge; a building vibrancy: Viridity coursed. Every atom was energized.

A million undead within the sphere desiccated: a charnel vapor which swiftly dispersed on a purifying wind. An uncanny green light and a profound silence prevailed – none other amongst the enemy might penetrate the barrier and enter within.

[Hlioth]: We’ll see how long that holds. But I am already weary. And Teppu is empty; Shomei has _much_ to answer for.

[Nehael]: I see the emanation beyond the curtain. And she, I: she is less than a league distant. She is angry. 

[Hlioth]: I imagine I would be wasting my time if I advised that you wait till sunrise?

Nehael spurred her horse, _Sura_ over the parapet, and rode toward the Embassy.

Cautious, and as yet unprepared for confrontation, Kaalaanala’s Fourth Effluxion withdrew.


**


The spirit of the _Eleos_ soared above the World. Dimensions – which were no more than perspectives – cycled below her: Wyre, Faerie, Mulhuk, Throile; the Viridescent Heaven of the _Ahma_. The infarction which was Kaalaanala; and beyond, a great clamor at the Veils, as their Mistresses hurled magicks of awful power. The Tree: enduring; oblivious.

On a mountain, the goddess manifested an avatar – a slender maiden, dressed in white – and sat beneath the Yew-_ludja_ in perfect _saizhan_. Turning her thought to a prior infinity, she grasped an idea, and Magnitude welled suddenly around her. A tempest of Radiance ensued, the _Ansin Leoma_ or Lambent Presence of Oronthon: it illuminated the heaven with such ferocity that Light alone might be perceived. Its currents surrounded her, suffused her, became her. 

Her focus narrowed, and a passageway opened. Enitharmon, Marshal of the Host, stepped through. He abased himself before her.

“_Faheth_,” he breathed. The light receded.

“Yes,” she said unsurely, shook her head, and gestured – she had always been _Faheth_. The seraph rose smoothly; his frame – of perfect, titanic proportion – dwarfed her. But his countenance remained lowered in obeisance: he would not, or could not, meet her gaze.

She smiled and stood. “You might kneel,” she suggested.

He did so.

“That we might regard one another, not in deference,” she raised an eyebrow. The _Eleos_ reached up and cradled his massive visage within her hands, inviting him to look at her. “Your sword, if you please.”

Mindfully, he drew his weapon – more than twice as tall as she – from its scabbard across his back, and proffered it upon open palms before her .

“Good,” the _Eleos_ touched it gently. “This is no longer required.”

The blade, _Shard of Thought_, shivered instantly and was broken, its fragments wheeling slowly and eerily through space before dissolving into a fine mist. She stretched up on her toes and kissed his forehead, and the _Seal of Truth and Agency_ which he bore vanished, flaring briefly in her hand before being absorbed. 

“The Thought has changed.”

Enitharmon sighed, as a great burden and responsibility left him forever.

“Your tenure is ended; all of your duties, discharged. I am now Sovereign; you may rejoin your peers.”

The greatest of celestials wept as joy overcame him. His spirit soared, engulfed by Magnitude.

The consciousness of the _Eleos_ shifted; the scene changed abruptly: the Ash-_ludja_ towered above her, deep within Nizkur. She was Green again. 

*

She reached out with her thought and touched the Enforcer. Presently, a shape appeared before her: a goddess of dark aspect with flaming red hair.

The _Eleos_ scrutinized her. “I have a favor to ask. You succored Nehael once before with regard to this one; will you aid me again?”

Gihaahia scowled. “You are the _Eleos_; you may mandate whatever you please. Why are you asking?”

“I am appealing to the Claviger: for a broader interpretation of the Wyrish Injunction, so to speak. Is your Law not dynamic?”

“Yes. But I am its executrix, not its architect.”

“The Self begins its reascendance; you may find that you cannot not shirk responsibility for the choice.”

“The Self will be the cause of my demise – one way or another. Even now, the Claviger prepares to cleave to the Aeon. This is precisely to contain the ascendant _I_. The Morphic must be preserved!”

“Let me mediate that exchange,” the _Eleos_ smiled. “I will lend you a Tree in the meantime. Now, will you help me?”

“Yes,” the Enforcer sighed.


**


It was an hour past midnight; the eerie green light evoked by Hlioth prevailed at Galda. Yeqon, the Fifth Prosecutor, together with the once-seraphs Armen and Tumael and nineteen former episemes, knelt in the posture of _saizhan_ before the _Sela_: he seemed to be bestowing some kind of benediction.

“This is becoming increasingly surreal,” Ortwine whispered. “What is going on?”

“Shomei has released them,” Nwm explained quietly. “It would appear that these devils are predisposed to adopt the meditational practices of _Saizhan_ with relative ease; Nehael indicated that their mental discipline gives them a certain advantage.”

Mostin snorted. “Shomei has released _herself_. She has also dismissed Ugales and her other responsibilities. Whatever these guilt-ridden devils subsequently choose to believe is entirely their own determination; at least the burden of their development is no longer hers. She has isolated herself; the library – and the prior infinity – is currently closed. She is entirely focused on her own Perfection.”

“And how long is this gnostic reverie likely to last?” Ortwine inquired.

“Seconds? Millennia? I have no idea.” The Alienist shrugged.

Nwm scowled. “I hope the latter, for all our sakes.”

Unexpectedly, Mostin nodded in agreement.

“Oh?”

Mostin touched his nose with a finger. “Whilst the pursuit of the _Urn_ might preclude _Perfection_, it does not hold that one who is _Perfected_ cannot successfully pursue the _Urn_.”

“You believe she will resume her quest for the _Urn_?” Nwm was aghast.

“Yes. And she will surely succeed,” Mostin replied. 

“And then?”

Mostin considered. “She will subsume Hummaz, banish the Claviger and rewrite the Arcane Morphic so that it is more to her liking.”

Nwm raised his eyebrows inquisitively. “Then she will _Green_-ify?”

“Certainly not…” Mostin hadn’t before considered the possibility. If she absorbed Hummaz _what would actually happen?_; where the _Web of Motes_ had promised an answer, the Aeon would not permit him to look. “I believe any expression of Hummaz as part of a ‘composite’ entity in defiance of her Will would be deemed a failure by her.” 

A vibration. 

“She will assert _quickly_,” Ortwine hissed. “The Hazel stirs.”

Nwm swallowed nervously. “And Nercamay?” He nodded toward the infernal muse; she sat in tranquil reflection some distance from the others.

“Nercamay is eccentric, to say the least,” Mostin observed. “Eadric may have confused her beyond saving.”

Nwm smiled. “Our soteriological notions diverge.”

[Nercamay]: I concur. Actually, I am saved beyond confusion.

[Mostin]: ! Are you eavesdropping, Nercamay?

[Nercamay]: I am merely paying attention.

[Nwm]: Pay no heed to my cynical associates, Nercamay.

“I believe you are rather fond of this fiend, Nwm,” Ortwine raised an eyebrow. There was a time when her nature would have branded her anathema.”

“I have learned to make allowances,” Nwm looked pointedly at Mostin. “Besides, the World is more _secure_ these days.”

Mostin tilted his head and stared. “You stand upon a mote of dirt which bobs in an ocean of pseudoinfinities and _I_ am branded insane because I don’t cling to it?”

[Daunton]: You might want to return to the tower.

[Mostin]: What now?

[Daunton]: The Enforcer…

[Message interrupted]

*[Gihaahia]: Make some tea, Mostin. I don’t have all night. And bring the Preceptor.*

Mostin swallowed.



**


The Tiger dreamed his way west. Sharing his mind, thirty rebel _Anantam_ and a clique of succubi – former initiates of Soneillon. The Throile Cabal itself had grown to a more than a dozen bickering covens, and included many once subordinate to the exiled queen, as well as evil wyrds, lamias, hags and eccentric once-devils. Loyalty was nonexistent and alliances shifted rapidly, as the Cherry’s transient urges to satiation were manifested through the Cabal. The faction which supported Temenun represented only one of many diverse and conflicting interests; he had no illusion of maintaining its cohesion for long.

Visions sped past: horrors and phantoms which lurked on the edge of nightmares; residual energies from Dhatri’s massive necromancies which still lingered in the dreamscape. Temenun drove through them and skirted a deeper layer: the net of magic woven by the Claviger about Kaalaanala’s Second Effluxion. Its surface seemed absorptive and malleable.

The Cherry – which fed his desire – moved through him. As always, his basest instincts were tempered: his was to contrive a rational program to achieve his object of lust. The goal: to rule unthreatened in idle and despotic languor within a balmy paradise, where his every whim was instantly met. A modest enough ambition in the prior infinity, but one now which might prove less easy to realize. The Embassy, the largest threat to his designs – even Kaalaanala herself – must be diverted: Temenun, in essence, preferred a period of easement to a moment of destruction. 

He squeezed around the bubble which isolated the dream larva, perceiving a continual pulse of ultramarine and sapphire which sustained its cage, emanated by the Claviger from the deepest arcane substrate. The Tiger strove to regard the source of the spell, but the Claviger seemed as but a lens for the Dream of Magic itself, and indistinguishable from it. And to a Dream, from beyond the Infinitudes, even the Aeon must bend. 

Temenun corporeated. The scene around him was one of madness: a sea of slavering mouths and claws and undead flesh. A hundred yards away, ghouls were turning to dust in swaths before they could approach their target: a goddess in red who bore a slender blade. She had dismissed her steed, and now fought on foot amidst a dense press. Those few who could withstand her presence were quickly dispatched by her steel as she danced serenely amongst them. 

Instantly, she apprehended him. She leaped the distance between them, and landed before him, the point of her sword poised at his throat. She read his purpose in a heartbeat.

“Greetings, old cat.” Nehael spoke calmly, and lowered her weapon.

“Goddess,” the Ak’Chazar inclined his head politely, backward palms clasped before him. “If agreeable, you will be my liaison with the Uediian Preceptor and the Wyrish Academy. I should like to meet with them. I will offer nine hundred now, for a return of two thousand split into four parts – the largest no more than seven hundred – within one month. I will also require certain guarantees.”

“Is this an admission of my authority, Temenun?” Nehael asked.

“By no means,” the Tiger smiled, baring many fangs. “Merely a recognition of your _power_, which is considerable. I have issues with any authority which is not my own.”

Nehael sighed. “You’d better behave yourself. And don’t provoke Mostin; he is anxious to obliterate you. As to my prerogative – when I choose to wear black, be assured that you will be the first to know it.” 

“It would suit you very well. Will you guarantee the oaths to which we testify?”

“For my enemy, you assume many favors.”

“Yeshe invoked the Goddess; now she is cocooned within Nizkur. I am cautious.”

“That was a different Nehael, to be sure,” Nehael smiled. “Have no doubt that if you betray _me_ then I will spare you the indignity of incarceration.”

“Your compassion is noted.” Temenun spoke wrily.



**


“Had you even noticed that Oronthon’s _Ahma_ is missing?” The Enforcer inquired. She had manifested as a lean, muscular goddess of early middle age. Nwm looked at her curiously; there was something _Green_ protecting her.

“I had not,” Nwm admitted. “Is he safe?”

“He is dead,” Gihaahia smiled wickedly.

“Again?” Ortwine asked. “I did not realize that he and I were in competition.”

“And I did not realize that I had invited _you_ to this audience.” The Enforcer tilted her head.

“I forgive the oversight,” Ortwine smiled benignly.

“You, of course, realize that you will have more than one effluxion to contend with before morning?”

Ortwine glanced sideways at Mostin.

“That would be unfortunate,” Mostin swallowed.

Gihaahia looked at Mostin as though her were simple. “If Kaalaanala is bending all her thought and will here now, necessarily all of her avatars will converge. This is obvious, yes?”

“Yes,” Mostin looked sceptical. “No, not really. What is your involvement here?”

She sighed. “Consider _function_, Mostin. The First Effluxion – the phaethon which ravagaed Fumaril – is Kaalaanala’s obdurate ire directed toward  –  at that time, actually mostly the _Ahma_ and Mulissu. Although I suppose also you, for your Tower and your _Ú_. 

“The Second manifested in resonance with the Claviger’s _tuning_ of the Morphic; this dream larva liberated many chthonics in the process. The Claviger has been forced to suppress its action; the avatar is effectively contained within a nightmare prison of the Claviger’s devising.

“The Third Effluxion is a reflex which embodies Kaalaanala’s frustration with the Law of the Injunction and its agent – namely _me_. You will notice that two of these emanations already chart courses running directly counter to my interests.”

“And the Fourth?” Mostin inquired. “The Embassy?”

“A much more rational manifestation of hatred,” Gihaahia smiled disturbingly. “The Great Dark Fire has assumed the shape of a human – at least a semblance of one; she deigns to enter the World of Men.”

“If this is leading somewhere specific…” 

 “A great _Bhīti_ may efflux fivefold,” Gihaahia spoke impassively.

“There will be a Fifth?” Nwm groaned. “Why has it not already shown itself?”

“Its form will be contingent upon the stimuli which provoke Kaalaanala,” the Enforcer stared hard at him.

“She is holding an avatar in reserve,” Mostin sighed. “I can’t say I blame her – although I suspect her choice is visceral, not considered.”

“Do you know the form it will take?” Nwm asked.

“Yes,” Gihaahia nodded. “It will be nuanced.”

“You knew there would be a Fifth?” Nwm looked to the Alienist.

“I had my fingers crossed that there might not,” Mostin waved his hand. He turned to the Enforcer. “You have still to reveal your purpose here.”

“I will be going into a brief stasis,” Gihaahia spoke steadily. “I should warn you that any misdemeanors committed against the Injunction will be prosecuted enthusiastically when I reanimate.”

“But…” Daunton opened his mouth for the first time. 

Gihaahia silenced him with a glance. “I have yet to devise a suitable penance for your sedition; involving yourself with Shomei’s _mischief._ Consider yourself on probation. Perhaps I should appoint a new president on my return?”

_Tyrant_, Daunton thought. 

Her eyes flickered at him. He quailed.

“Why the hibernation?” Mostin asked.

“The Claviger needs that which has been lent to me returned to it – for a short while.”

“And who is supposed to uphold the Injunction in the meantime?”

Gihaahia shrugged. “The Academy must police itself. The Articles are clear enough.”

“We will need lawyers,” Daunton groaned. “How awful. Tyranny might be preferable.”

“I am dispensing some _advice_ before I absent myself,” the Enforcer sighed, staring pointedly at the Alienist. “The Embassy will need transvalents to penetrate your spellwarp, Mostin; you can endure her conventional magic – the same is not true of the rest of you; you will all die if she targets you with spells. On the other hand, Mostin, if you attract her attention …”

“Such as by _not dying_,” Ortwine interjected drily.

“She will single you out…”

“And kill you, Mostin.” Ortwine finished. 

“How do you abide this deity’s presence?” Gihaahia inquired of Mostin, glowering at Ortwine. 

“I close my ears,” Mostin nodded sagely.

“My advice, regardless, is _give all thought to offense_.”

“Oh, I already had,” Mostin nodded.

“There is a spell.”

“There is?”

“It is for Nwm; hence I required his presence here.”  [Spell]

Mostin scowled. “This is an Enochia. It is also of the _two thousand two hundredth order_. We don’t have that kind of juice; every reservoir is empty. We might get a twelve hundred with every caster – of every persuasion – participating.”

“And I will not invoke the celestial host,” Nwm said through gritted teeth.

“You could not if you tried,” Gihaahia smiled. “This is to conjure a sunwyrm. Here is the mitigation.” [Formula]

Mostin looked sceptical. “This equation is illegal. You cannot simply cancel those infinities to balance it. And the backlash is preposterous. And where does this nine hundred come from?”

Gihaahia raised an eyebrow. “I make the rules, Mostin. Temenun will approach you with a deal. Accept it.”

“Are you insane? The Cherry’s agenda… ”

Nwm shook his head and nodded in understanding at the same time, his chin describing a figure-of-eight. “Not exactly an _agenda_. It will amplify his desire, and the Rakshasa is fundamentally lazy and vain; the Tiger wants to be left alone. Personally, I’ll settle for a cat-who-naps.”

“Until a higher paradigm asserts,” Mostin sighed. 

“What is this sunwyrm of which you speak? Its provenance?” Nwm asked.

“Mixed. Oronthon. Or Uedii. Or the Aeon emanates many forms. It is _new_.”

“A new despot?” Ortwine inquired.

“No. It is a herald; sometimes a rearguard. You must provide it with context.”

“A herald for whom?” Ortwine asked.

“The _Ahma_,” Gihaahia gave a ghastly grin. “You must invite him back, Nwm. The Sun.”

“Exactly how much backlash are we talking, here?” 

[This much]

Nwm’s eyes widened. “Even I cannot burn that hot; I am a mortal: I would not withstand it.”

“Your mortality is not relevant,” Gihaahia said dismissively.

“I am but a man.”

“_Narh_ is but a horse,” the Enforcer retorted. “Yet superior to most. Am I a goddess? If so, then heed my advice.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Choose a Tree,” the Infernal’s eyes narrowed. “Take refuge in it. You’ve been hedging your bets. It’s time you assumed a position.”

“I cannot align myself with some limited perspective; my purview must be broad.”

“I am talking of practical measures, Nwm, not philosophical commitments. There must be some quality which would be of benefit.”

“There are many.”

“Then _choose_. Now is your time. What _now_?”

Nwm sighed. “If one, then durity; the temper of the Ash.”

“Well, of course,” Gihaahia sighed. Her hand suddenly held a slender staff: it appeared as though hewn from a bough of living ash, with silver-grey bark still upon it. It drew Nwm’s mind in; its knots and whorls were harder than adamant.

The Preceptor held up his hands, and shook his head. “I do not _own_; I cannot accept such a thing.” 

She pressed it into his hand. “This is no _thing_, Nwm. It is the limb of a _ludja_. And who said anything about ownership?”

His fingers curled around it, and his awareness exploded. 

“You must hold something in reserve,” Gihaahia cautioned him. “These rest, not so much; although keeping enough of them alive might prove a challenge in itself.”

Nwm nodded, and gave a the Enforcer a puzzled glance; he knew that the same _ludja_ – at the behest of Uedii’s reflection – had extended its protection to her.

“The ascetic has a magic staff?” Ortwine inquired archly.

Without warning, Nwm struck her rump soundly with it, causing her to exhale sharply and her eyes to widen in indignation.

“No.” The Preceptor replied. “It’s just a stick.”

And so it was. The power was in him now.

“And when you return?” Mostin asked the Enforcer.

“I will resume my former duties. But the Claviger is binding itself to the Aeon; to Pharamne. The Morphic will be Transcendental and will not be overturned. Shomei cannot challenge it.”

“Shomei will find a way.”

“No, Mostin,” Gihaahia sighed. “She will not need to. She remains exempt.”

“And how long is this absence of yours likely to last?”

“As long as it lasts, Mostin.” Abruptly, Gihaahia vanished.

[Nehael]: Daunton. Mostin. Nwm. Temenun wishes to parley. He offers nine hundred – with certain stipulations, naturally.


----------



## Salthorae

YES!!! Going to read it now


----------



## carborundum

Wow.


----------



## Neurotic

I still hate new XP without comments


----------



## Sadras

Hi, I know I'm late by some years, my bad, but has anyone gathered all these story-posts from the various threads into a pdf or chronologically ordered pdf series? If someone has, could someone please send me a link?
I have just started reading from this story from the beginning and its breathtakingly great!


----------



## Salthorae

Sadras said:


> Hi, I know I'm late by some years, my bad, but has anyone gathered all these story-posts from the various threads into a pdf or chronologically ordered pdf series? If someone has, could someone please send me a link?
> I have just started reading from this story from the beginning and its breathtakingly great!




There is the Compiled Tales of Wyre thread that Cheiromancer put together a while back... and I *think* it includes all the udpates before this one...


----------



## tleilaxu

First,

Thanks Sep, for the update. Much appreciated. 

Second, the Rogue's Gallery forum seems to be gone. Where has the thread with all the game stats etc gone to?


----------



## Salthorae

Link from my subscribed threads section still seems to work to: Eadric et al (The paladin and his friends)
Though, that one is not consolidated and a lot of the iterations are spread across dozens and dozens of pages.


----------



## sithramir

Wow. Moooore please


----------



## tleilaxu

refresher:


"Faheth" (supreme empathy):

Consciousness Form: The Cosmic Mind. Alternatively, the Fount of Numinous Essence or the Will 
of Unmanifest Godhead. Interpreted in the light of Saizhan as comprised of three elements: sela 
(perfect gnostic intellect), faheth (supreme empathy), and saizhan (unclouded apprehension).


"Ansin Leoma" - Primus inter pares of the Seven Sovereign aspects of Oronthon (dominion over Sun, Fire, Life and Creation)


---

I can find no reference to *Eleos*, any aid here is appreciated.

edit: "her image reflected through the Eleos: the enlightened, engaged, dynamic face of compassion"

edit edit: thanks Sal, ya beat me.


----------



## Salthorae

tleilaxu said:


> refresher:
> I can find no reference to *Eleos*, any aid here is appreciated.




Well in Greek Myth Eleos is god of pity, mercy, and compassion

In the context of this story, Eleos is the term for Nehael enkindled/perfected, a fully DvR12 creature of whom "Red Nehael" is but a DvR6 avatar generated after Visuit was slain to counter the undead horde and 4th Effluxion. Details HERE

I only just searched through today for the Red Nehael stats, hence my speed of response.


----------



## Sadras

Salthorae said:


> There is the Compiled Tales of Wyre thread that Cheiromancer put together a while back... and I *think* it includes all the udpates before this one...




Thank you for this.


----------



## Salthorae

No problem! Everyone should get to enjoy as much of this tale as possible!


----------



## Quartz

And did I not say that ENWorld would be ridiculously slow?


----------



## gothwalk

I am extraordinarily pleased to see this return.


----------



## Imhotepthewise

*Because we have all been good and patient...*

...we have been rewarded. Welcome back, Sep!


----------



## Quartz

Please come back soon!


----------



## RedTonic

Oh I'm so excited to come back to EN World and see that this is still alive! Sepulchrave is such a huge inspiration.


----------



## Quartz

Bump!


----------



## EroGaki

This makes me very happy.


----------



## Bloodcookie

My rage at the forum's failure to notify me by email that my favorite subscribed thread had been updated over a month ago was swiftly pacified by the realization that there was, in fact, a new installment of Wyre. Very happy to see you back, Sep


----------



## Bloodcookie

Having now finished reading, I think I'm most impressed with the organic continuity with which you manage to continue the story after so long. The plot, the personalities, and the tone are all just as I remember them. Speaking of personalities, I really enjoy the way that Ortwine, and to a perhaps lesser extent Nwm and Mostin, give voice to a more grounded, mortal, perspective in relation to some of their deific friends and the transmetaphysical upheavals occurring all around them. That being said, I remain, as ever, firmly on Team Shomei


----------



## Jeph

This thread remains one of the things that draw me back to ENworld, every so many years


----------



## Quartz

December bump!

You know, a Christmas / Advent update would be thematically very appropriate.


----------



## Erevanden

Quartz said:


> December bump!
> 
> You know, a Christmas / Advent update would be thematically very appropriate.




Man's got it right !

Gooo Prahaaar...eee......I mean...Eadric...Gooo Eadric !!...


----------



## Quartz

Christmas Eve bump!


----------



## Erevanden

2 0 1 5 BUMP !!

Sepulchrave, a new year of endless possibilities began !!

We are hungry for your prose as never before !!


----------



## Quartz

Perhaps we're going to have to wait until Easter Sunday for Eadric's resurrection?


----------



## grodog

Somehow I didn't get a thread update notification until today, so I sent out a note to the Yahoo Group, and posted on FB, in case other missed the update---an update I won't have time to read until later tonight, alas 

edit:  and a link to the previous update, in case you, too, had forgotten its content:  http://www.enworld.org/forum/showth...ted-10-9-14)&p=5891543&viewfull=1#post5891543


----------



## Tal Rasha

Thank you! Awesome writing as usual. More updates!

(Are you up-to-date, btw? Is this where the campaign is right now?)


----------



## grodog

End of the month bump.


----------



## Erevanden

*We desire more of Wyre*

*BUMP*


----------



## grodog

St. Valentine's day bump!

Allan.


----------



## Quartz

I suspect that we'll be waiting until Easter Sunday.


----------



## grodog

Quartz said:


> I suspect that we'll be waiting until Easter Sunday.




Hopefully not quite that long!


----------



## Gwarok

Erevanden said:


> _We *desire* more of Wyre_




The Cherry has it's roots deep in my mind as well


----------



## Bloodcookie

Well, it's the vernal equinox, and that can only mean one thing... that's right, the ascension of the Viridescent _Eleos_ into her temporal regnancy! Don't know what I'm talking about? Go back and re-read the storyhour!


----------



## Salthorae

we can only hope to hear the continuance soon!


----------



## Tal Rasha

So until the next update, let's speculate: has the Hummaz story thread fallen by the wayside, more or less, in amongst all the epic-ness? (Wouldn't be terrible, and it can't be easy to juggle that many paradigm clashes.)

Or is there still more unrevealed goodness to come?


----------



## grodog

April bump!


----------



## grodog

Bumpitty bumpitty bump!

edit:  Sep, some Qs have been bobbing around in my backbrain while re-reading the entire storyline:

- Are you still playing 3.5 with Epic, or have you migrated to 5e?  
- How far behind the October 2014 update is the progress of the campaign?
- Have you given thought to any further illustrations?  I would love to see Mostin in his pseudonatural form, the breach battle at the Paling in Throile, Demogorgon, Shomei's Helllish Library (I kept picturing Borges meets Escher  ), Nercamay, the Adversary (before and as Hummaz), Red Neheal, the Claviger and Gihaahia, Irel, and many others 
- I had been under the impression that the bidding between the various NPCs in the Cheshne faction was bidding epic spell levels (the "reservoirs" that they and the PCs discuss regularly) in pursuit of their oft-at-odds goals, but if that's the case, it dawned on me today that those spell slots are replenishible resources, since the casters will gain access to their new spell-casting capacities daily.  So, how can their reservoirs be exhausted, which is mentioned several times throughout?  Is this perhaps related to epic spell slots (about which I know little any longer)??


----------



## Erevanden

A bump and a message to Sepulchrave:

Sep, is there anything we - your persistent fans - can do, to make this storyhour live again ?

Look, we are still here, waiting, not ready to let go. Not just yet. Some of us, like me, will NEVER let go of this vision, that you presented.

For some of us, the story of Eadric and his friends is truly something. Something memorable. Something BIG.

Come back Sep.


----------



## Tal Rasha

grodog said:


> I had been under the impression that the bidding between the various NPCs in the Cheshne faction was bidding epic spell levels (the "reservoirs" that they and the PCs discuss regularly) in pursuit of their oft-at-odds goals, but if that's the case, it dawned on me today that those spell slots are replenishible resources, since the casters will gain access to their new spell-casting capacities daily.  So, how can their reservoirs be exhausted, which is mentioned several times throughout?  Is this perhaps related to epic spell slots (about which I know little any longer)??



I've asked a very similar question before, and Sepulchrave was kind enough to answer, here.

In short (any errors in the following are mine, not Sep's), you only get to cast daily your basic up-to-9th level spells. Bigger spells cost XP, and you have to gain more XP to cast more epic spells in the future. Deities have floating XP buffers. Chtonics don't pay XP for epic spells. Also, in response to my asking how the PCs were able to cast spells after they had become spent:



Sepulchrave II said:


> A combination of buffer and earned XP; also ritual components and backlash, which may circumvent the need for XP altogether.


----------



## tleilaxu

Even if it's a post a year or less, I'll keep coming around now and again to see if there is an update.


----------



## grodog

tleilaxu said:


> Even if it's a post a year or less, I'll keep coming around now and again to see if there is an update.




And sometimes there is, and then then is much rejoicing!


----------



## grodog

Saturday the 13th Bump.


----------



## grodog

Post July 4th bump.

Allan.


----------



## Erevanden

24 days 'til *Samhain* bump


----------



## grodog

I got excited when I saw the email notification, and then further compounded my excitement when I saw the 10/9 date---missing the year 2014 in the process, of course 

We're still out here, Sep, and hoping you'll have something fun to share for the holidays this year! 

Allan.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

*Amazing*

I just began reading Tales of Wyre about a week or so ago, and all I can say is, "Come back, please! I must know what comes next!"

I can't believe I've read up to this year. I wouldn't have imagined a campaign could last so long. Well done!

On a side note, I think it's interesting, Mulissu, Iua and Ulao; I made a sorcerer quite a while back. He was the son of a Djinni shiek, Kol, and human witch.

He is a human half-air elemental (native outsider, born on the Prime) and is referred to as the "77th Prince of Bajaal". 

I hadn't even heard of Sepulchrave's Story Hour before then. I feel like Kletian (my sorcerer) could be related to them. It's just cool.

And now to my question, while I'm on the subject.

Jim--Sep--when you return, I'd like to know one thing: wher is Iua? I know after they reclaimed her, she was out of commission for a while...but I feel like you've retired her. 

Mulissu and Iua are my favorite characters. Next to Shomei and Sonellion, Nwm, Mostin and, well, everyone else.

I would like to see Iua return with a vengeance. In a good way, of course.


----------



## Salthorae

Man! you messed with my emotions BrassDuke! 

I saw the email alert and was sooo excited. It's only been a year since our last update... It took Lucas 18 years to get his next update out after Episode VI, we can wait!


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Sorry, man. This is amazing. I feel like I know all the commenters by now. Well, I feel like part of the group. A few years late, but still. This is amazing. Why is there no Wiki yet??

I hope Sep returns. I really need to finish this story. I'm hooked. 

Also, Sep. I'd like to ask some questions about Iua, Mulissu and Ulao when you've got a chance. They're my favorites, so I'd like to delve deeper.


----------



## Neurotic

I think you'll have to wait for the books to come out


----------



## grodog

TheBrassDuke said:


> I feel like I know all the commenters by now. Well, I feel like part of the group. A few years late, but still.




Welcome, TBD 



TheBrassDuke said:


> I hope Sep returns. I really need to finish this story. I'm hooked.




Indeed, that just shows that you've well-and-truly arrived!



TheBrassDuke said:


> Also, Sep. I'd like to ask some questions about Iua, Mulissu and Ulao when you've got a chance. They're my favorites, so I'd like to delve deeper.




Hint:  if you start asking Qs, Sep may decide to answer them, which may result in some updates.  It is, after all, getting close to the holidays again!


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Consider my public wonderings as "questions", then. Reformatted, and everything.

But seriously. I have to say, this is one of the best campaigns I've stumbled upon. Ever. I can't get enough of it. As much as I'd love an update, I'm unfortunately very patient. I just really want answers more than anything. Where is Iua? Tell me more about that particular family, etc.! Can I play? ;_;


----------



## Quartz

grodog said:


> Hint:  if you start asking Qs, Sep may decide to answer them, which may result in some updates.  It is, after all, getting close to the holidays again!




From Sep's profile:

Last Post Mythic Metals Versus Real Ones? Sunday, 9th November, 2014 03:42 PM
...
Last Activity Today 11:50 AM

Fingers crossed!


----------



## Felix

Howdy fellas. Still checking in here after all these years. Hope all is well, and Merry Christmas!

Ho-ho-bump.


----------



## darkbard

Happy New Year, Sep and all my fellow devotees!


----------



## Neurotic

Happy New Year everyone!


----------



## the Jester

Happy new year! 

Here's hoping we'll get a 2016 update!


----------



## TheBrassDuke

*u_u*

Oh, this is a killer.  I come on a lot, just to see if we've got an update...

i haven't even gotten word back regarding my Mulissu/Iua questions yet. @_@ Are you ever coming back, Seppppppp?


----------



## TheBrassDuke

---___---

O GREAT SEPULCHRAVE II, PLEASE RETURN TO YOUR FOLLOWERS, FOR WE ARE RESTLESS AND NEED GUIDANCE.

(does no one know how to get in touch with Sep? I just want to ask some questions.)


----------



## Erevanden

Quartz said:


> From Sep's profile:
> 
> Last Post Mythic Metals Versus Real Ones? Sunday, 9th November, 2014 03:42 PM
> ...
> Last Activity Today 11:50 AM
> 
> Fingers crossed!




Well, I wouldn't count my chickens before they hatch. 

I've noticed quite a while back, that Sep seems to be lurking around the forums, but for some reason he steadfastly keeps away from this thread.

This turn of events is a tad depressing


----------



## TheBrassDuke

:/ Well I guess that's a let-down. Is he done with this great epic?


----------



## grodog

TheBrassDuke said:


> :/ Well I guess that's a let-down. Is he done with this great epic?




I doubt it.  Sep's just busy away from the boards from time to time, that's all 

And BUMP!


----------



## Justin

Does anyone have a compiled list of the order in which to read the threads? I think this is it but I'm not certain about overlap or gaps.

http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?58227-Tales-of-Wyre
http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?86306-The-M%E9salliance-Part-2-(Updated-11-28)
http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?130712-Aeon-(updated-10-9-14)

EDIT:
These threads appear to be obviated by updates to the others:
http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?10950-Lady-Despina-s-Virtue-Continued
http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?13733-The-Heretic-of-Wyre

Crunchy thread for reference:
http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?5652-Eadric-et-al-(The-Paladin-and-his-Friends)


----------



## grodog

Justin said:


> Does anyone have a compiled list of the order in which to read the threads? I think this is it but I'm not certain about overlap or gaps.
> 
> http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?58227-Tales-of-Wyre[/url]




YOu don't need another thread other than the Tales of Wyre thread,  [MENTION=21262]Justin[/MENTION].  [MENTION=141]Cheiromancer[/MENTION] complies the updates from each current thread into that one-stop shop thread.  



Justin said:


> Crunchy thread for reference:
> http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?5652-Eadric-et-al-(The-Paladin-and-his-Friends)




IIRC the Friends thread is not usually complied into the Tales of Wyre thread.


----------



## Justin

grodog said:


> YOu don't need another thread other than the Tales of Wyre thread,  [MENTION=21262]Justin[/MENTION].  [MENTION=141]Cheiromancer[/MENTION] complies the updates from each current thread into that one-stop shop thread.




Ok, for some reason I thought the Tales of Wyre thread wasn't all of it, thanks for clarifying.



> IIRC the Friends thread is not usually complied into the Tales of Wyre thread.




Yeah, I just put that there for completeleness' sake for anyone else interested in this question.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

I hope he comes back soon. :/


----------



## grodog

TheBrassDuke said:


> I hope he comes back soon. :/




Perhaps with the approach of Cinco de Mayo, our sun god will come back out to play?

Allan.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

>_>

Perhaps...

Must he be summoned like a certain someone over at Giantitp..?

...

_Sepulchrave II_, we summon thee.

_Sepulchrave II_, we invoke thee. 

_Sepulchrave II_, we pray to thee!

And now...we wait some more.


----------



## grodog

Bump!  Let us know you're still out there, Jim!


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Come home!


----------



## grodog

Hey Sep---

You still out there?  Surely given that it's Election Day, some new Aeon (for good or ill!) looms.  Perhaps an update is in order? 



> THE SECOND COMING
> 
> Turning and turning in the widening gyre
> The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
> Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
> Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
> The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
> The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
> The best lack all conviction, while the worst
> Are full of passionate intensity.
> 
> Surely some revelation is at hand;
> Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
> The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
> When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
> Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
> A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
> A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
> Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
> Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
> 
> The darkness drops again but now I know
> That twenty centuries of stony sleep
> Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
> And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
> Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?




Allan.


----------



## grodog

Happy New Year, James  [MENTION=4303]Sepulchrave II[/MENTION] (and all other Wyre fans too, of course!) 

Allan.


----------



## darkbard

Checking into this thread as infrequently as even the most stalwart of Sep enthusiasts must do these days, I only now noticed your posting of Yeats's great poem, [MENTION=1613]grodog[/MENTION]. Could not be more appropriate to both the present moment and much of the spirit of Sep's story. Well done!


----------



## grodog

darkbard said:


> Checking into this thread as infrequently as even the most stalwart of Sep enthusiasts must do these days, I only now noticed your posting of Yeats's great poem, [MENTION=1613]grodog[/MENTION]. Could not be more appropriate to both the present moment and much of the spirit of Sep's story. Well done!




Thanks, [MENTION=1282]darkbard[/MENTION]


----------



## grodog

Le bump!


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Seepppppppp...


----------



## grodog

I just reread "The Nodality Part 2" @ http://www.enworld.org/forum/showth...f-Wyre-Part-II&p=285211&viewfull=1#post285211 for inspirational fun! 

Allan.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Hey, where can I find the entire compiled piece now, again? I think I lost that link.


----------



## grodog

TheBrassDuke said:


> Hey, where can I find the entire compiled piece now, again? I think I lost that link.




Here you go:  http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?58227-Tales-of-Wyre

 [MENTION=141]Cheiromancer[/MENTION] maintains that thread! 

Allan.


----------



## tleilaxu

I still come by to check the thread every now and again


----------



## TheBrassDuke

It looks like Sep, unlike Oronthon, has abandoned the world...


----------



## Azakiel

Damn Email notifications getting my hopes up again.


----------



## remetagross

Didn't come here in four years, but that means I just got to read the 2014 updates  come on Sep, we know you're here somewhere hearing our pleas!


----------



## Helluin

Hi all,

This may sound quite presumptuous and more than a little odd, especially given the relative inactivity of this thread in the past two years, so please do excuse me if I seem intrusive. Here it goes...

I haven't been following this story hour for quite as long as some of you undoubtedly have. I started reading it in the summer of 2012, following recommendation from a certain user on GiantInthePlayground, to whom I owe many thanks, for this was certainly one of the finest fantasy novels that I have read and quite probably, I suspect, that I will have read for a long, long time. Night after night, I would read about Lady Despina, Eadric, Mostin the Metagnostic, Nwm the Preceptor, and Ortwin of Jiuhu, of Rintrah, Feezu, and Graz'zt. Being a good ten years late for the story, I had a lot to catch up with, and in that summer it almost felt like these stories would never end, just the way I wanted it.

Then it did, and Wyre was, it seems, perpetually trapped in this moment of stasis, waiting for a dawn that would never come.

I don't suppose I can share exactly how much this story hour influenced me, but then again, I wouldn't need to, as I am sure that each one of us had been shaped in one way or another by Sep's sublime narratives. Suffice to say that this sage has informed much of my own style of gaming, writing, and thinking, which brings me to my point.

I originally joined ENWorld to approach Sepulchrave with a glimmer of hope that Sep would allow me to translate his works - I understand that he lacked interest in formally publishing the stories; however I truly wish that more readers of fantasy had the chance to read this story and feel as we had felt. I had hoped that he would grant me the permission to share his work in a different language (as some of you might have already gathered from my writing, English is not my first language - I'm a native Chinese speaker) and sharing it in some electronic format of Sepulchrave's choice. My plan never worked out since I was busy with my life and thought that my procrastination would do this work a disservice. It didn't help either when I kept losing my username and password (Having to retrieve your username and password pretty much every time you needed to login quickly became tedious) before I could muster the courage to even contemplate approaching Sep with this offer. Although I still lurk these boards regularly just to keep an eye on this story hour, I could never bring myself to send a PM to Sep.

Now that I'm ready to move on to the next stage of my life, I thought it'd be about the right timing to finish my long overdue message for Sep. Having re-registered my username (I think my old one might have been deleted due to long period of inactivity), I decided it would be prudent to check Sep's recent activity before sending anything. I was surprised to see that Sepulchrave was last active in late 2015 (It never really occurred to me to examine his activity until now, for some reason, even though I check his thread every other week or so). I was under the impression that Sep was still around these boards, just taking a long, well-deserved break from this story. Or perhaps the story, as well as the campaign, was put on indefinite hiatus. Either way, I intended to translate what is available (I mean, there are plenty of unfinished works that were still published - a masterpiece deserves as much). But I did not anticipate the possibility that Sep could have already left ENWorld...

Therefore, my friends, I must ask a favour. Can anyone let me know if they have means of reaching Sep beyond PMs? I intend to send a PM regardless but as this is a new account, I can't do it just yet, and I'd like to know if there are alternative means of communication if I cannot reach Sep on this site. Thank you, everyone.


----------



## grodog

Helluin said:


> Therefore, my friends, I must ask a favour. Can anyone let me know if they have means of reaching Sep beyond PMs? I intend to send a PM regardless but as this is a new account, I can't do it just yet, and I'd like to know if there are alternative means of communication if I cannot reach Sep on this site. Thank you, everyone.




I had Sep's email and phone c. 2002-3-ish, but I don't believe I have his current contact information.  Perhaps [MENTION=141]Cheiromancer[/MENTION] may?

Allan.


----------



## Helluin

grodog said:


> I had Sep's email and phone c. 2002-3-ish, but I don't believe I have his current contact information.  Perhaps [MENTION=141]Cheiromancer[/MENTION] may?
> 
> Allan.




May I ask if there is any reason to believe that his old e-mail is no longer in use? I know I am grasping at straws here, but really, any possible means of communication with even a faint possibility of reaching him is appreciated.

In fact, while we are at it, if anyone knows of Sep's contact info, but are unsure about sharing it due to privacy concerns, would you mind relaying my message above to Sep? Thanks a lot.


----------



## grodog

An excellent point, Helluin.  I just tried to email his old address (cc'ing [MENTION=141]Cheiromancer[/MENTION]).  

Allan.


----------



## Cheiromancer

I have a gmail address from 2006. I'll send him a note.


----------



## Knightfall

Cheiromancer said:


> I have a gmail address from 2006. I'll send him a note.



I have an old hotmail email address for him. Would that even be relevant now?


----------



## grodog

I haven't heard anything back.  Anyone else?

Allan.


----------



## Siuis

Helluin said:


> Hi all,
> 
> This may sound quite presumptuous and more than a little odd, especially given the relative inactivity of this thread in the past two years, so please do excuse me if I seem intrusive. Here it goes...
> 
> I haven't been following this story hour for quite as long as some of you undoubtedly have. I started reading it in the summer of 2012, following recommendation from a certain user on GiantInthePlayground, to whom I owe many thanks.




Oh, hey! I hope that was me. I would be blessed to know I was able to share this jewel with even one other person.

Anyway, I'm sorry for those of you with email alerts. I think we can safely say Sep has moved on. What we do have is still here, and that is treasure enough. I'm not sure how many more years I'll remember my Enworld password, but to those of you whose names bring me joy and memories; grodog, cheiromancer, Tleilaxu And the rest, thank you, and bless you.


----------



## Helluin

I haven't been active in the past few weeks, nor have I sent out my PM draft to Sep since I was busy getting ready to graduate... I will probably still do so, despite what Siuis had said (even though I do believe that Siuis is correct in that Sep has probably moved on from Wyre), because well, who knows. Even if we never get to see an update on Wyre again, I may one day get the consent from Sep to translate what we have.

Thank you everyone for your effort and time, and thank you Siuis for the beautiful note. Do stay hopeful, and perhaps one day we will meet again .

Edit: I just sent the PM to Sep. I know that I'll probably have to wait a long time to get a reply, if I were to get one at all, but that's okay - Wyre is worth all the waiting 

P.S. Siuis, I tried looking up the thread on GITP where I was introduced to Wyre, I couldn't find it. Did you reply to an OP who was asking for good campaign journals or something along the line?


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Is anyone still printing this thing? I'd pay for the compilation, lol.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Also, if anyone has anything related to the most comprehensive information relating to Mulissu, Iua and Ulao--I would love to see it. Mulissu is my absolute favorite character in ToW, with Iua coming pretty close in the top ten, and I'm also interested in learning more about Ulao. 

Mulissu was an inspiration for a character of mine:

*Commissions for me by Maria Jang aka Soda222 (on DeviantArt). Please do not use these images for any reason; they were expensive.*

Kletian the Sorcerer
http://i636.photobucket.com/albums/uu87/CainePorter/IMG_3289_zpsqmjwbvnx.png
http://i636.photobucket.com/albums/uu87/CainePorter/IMG_3288_zpsjbqyqx1z.png

*Edit:* (and yes, Kletian's outfit is a recolor/design version of the robes worn by the Geometer, from Complete Arcane.)

And to Cheiromancer and Grodog: you two have been following since the beginning, and seem to know the most about this. Would you like to connect via Facebook? If so, PM me the details! Let's chat!


----------



## Siuis

Helluin said:


> P.S. Siuis, I tried looking up the thread on GITP where I was introduced to Wyre, I couldn't find it. Did you reply to an OP who was asking for good campaign journals or something along the line?




Yes, actually, but several times! Also brought up Sagiro's storyhour, most times.

Regardless, glad to have you around, friend. The more the merrier. I just wish Sep was a touch less amazing so we could try and guess the ending, but I guess enjoying the riches we already have will have to do


----------



## grodog

TheBrassDuke said:


> And to @Cheiromancer and @Grodog: you two have been following since the beginning, and seem to know the most about this. Would you like to connect via Facebook? If so, PM me the details! Let's chat!




Sure, you can look me up there, I'm easy to find TBD:  Allan Grohe 

Allan.


----------



## Helluin

Guys,
guys,
guys.

I don't know if you can feel it through my writing but I am almost hyperventilating right now.
I just received a message from Sepulchrave, who just kindly granted me the permission to translate the Wyre Saga!
(I quite literally had to paused a few minutes by this point just to calm myself down for a bit.)

Now that I've taken my deep breaths, I need to ask a few more favours - while I'm still trying to work out the technicalities of this project, I'd like to ask some of the readers who have put in significant efforts in the past to put together a collection of Wyre Saga (by [MENTION=141]Cheiromancer[/MENTION]) and a Wyrish glossary (by [MENTION=1289]tleilaxu[/MENTION]) - would the two of you mind if I translate or otherwise make use of these resources to make this project easier? I've never tagged anyone on ENWorld, so if I'm not doing this correctly, can someone tag them for me? Thanks.


----------



## Cheiromancer

I don't mind at all. I would have to be pretty arrogant to assert a right to be considered, given as all I did was cut and paste.

I don't envy you the task of translating some of this recondite vocabulary. If the target language has a good translation of Jack Vance you might find some good pointers, though. What language are you translating it in to?


----------



## tleilaxu

The concordance was intended for public use, so please feel free to translate it. Keep in mind it is informal, has some problems, and is only current up to whenever I produced it (which was during the SARS epidemic, however long ago that was...)


----------



## Helluin

Thank you both kindly!
 @_*Cheiromancer*_ I will be translating it into Mandarin Chinese, possibly with help from a (few) friend(s) of mine. I do realize that it would be quite a challenging project, and hope that the outcome would still capture a fraction of the charm in Sep's writings. There is, in fact, a translation of Jack Vance's anthology in Chinese, which I've read a couple of years back; however, having never read the original writings of Jack Vance, I am afraid that I cannot comment on the quality of the translation. Nevertheless, I might use it as a reference from time to time.
 @_*tleilaxu*_ it should still be a good starting point - I will likely modify it as the story progresses. For now, it should be more than enough to help the prospective readers remember the characters from Lady Despina's virtue.


----------



## darkbard

Good luck with this project, [MENTION=6875004]Helluin[/MENTION]! I can think of few worthier game-related projects!


----------



## grodog

Bump!  [MENTION=4303]Sepulchrave II[/MENTION] are you still out there? 

Allan.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

I'm rereading the Tales right now, and I'm depressed...I know that it ends, and how it ends...please come back, Sep.  Didn't anyone ask what was up when he contacted them?


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Also. Does anyone have a compiled list of the Injunction's Articles, and basically all the information regarding it, the Claviger and Enforcer? I'm looking to describe it to someone who has little time to read this fantastic story, but would like to see it played out. Proving more tedious than I'd figured.


----------



## shadowthorn

I don't believe that the articles of the Injunction were ever provided in this story hour, so I don't have them. But I do have a Word/PDF version of the entire story hour. I'm happy to share it if Sepulchrave doesn't mind.


----------



## grodog

shadowthorn said:


> I don't believe that the articles of the Injunction were ever provided in this story hour, so I don't have them. But I do have a Word/PDF version of the entire story hour. I'm happy to share it if Sepulchrave doesn't mind.




That's my recollection as well.  Sep references specific clauses of the Injunction, in particular once the Claviger and Enforcer enter the picture (and some real-time edits occur), but I don't recall a full document listing the entirety of the Injunction offhand.

Allan.


----------



## grodog

*bump*


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Sep, come on, man!!!


----------



## grodog

TheBrassDuke said:


> Sep, come on, man!!!




Seconded.  Where's [MENTION=82]Horacio[/MENTION] when you need him? 

Allan.


----------



## grodog

*bump*

Got any long weekends coming up Sep, when you could sit down and update us? 

Allan.


----------



## Soramain

Just chiming in with my support for an update. I just read the SH again. For my money, it's up there with Erikson's Malazan series for humor, drama and sophistication. 

Come on Sep!


----------



## Wumpus

I've been reading this story for ... geez, upwards of a decade? I don't know if Sepulchrave is even still doing this game, it's probably (beware of pun) aeons past the last update by now - but I'd love to hear the rest of the story. Sep, if you're out there, any interest in a Patreon or similar? I'd be happy to pay to read this


----------



## Soramain

I reread the story a couple times in the last month and it's still just as good. 

I find myself curious about Hlioth, stats wise: how much wizard? How much druid? Just how epic is she?

Sent from my LG-H900 using EN World mobile app


----------



## darkbard

On the off chance you may pop in here now and again in lurker mode: Happy Holidays, Sep! Your story hour remains one of the high points of my fantasy life!


----------



## grodog

2018:  first bump!

Allan.


----------



## Wumpus

Olive said:


> Because the central myth of Sep-Fandom is that Saint Horatio saved the story through daily bumping. A monthly bump is our way of telling Sep that we still care.




Thread necromancy from thirteen years ago... bump!


----------



## grodog

Pre-GaryCon bump!

Allan.


----------



## Rackhir

I have to say I am greatly disappointed at the lack of tentacles in the "The Alienist" on TV.


----------



## Aja Saldana1

Bump, in hope that some day, I might be able to know the conclusion of this Epic.


----------



## grodog

Aja Saldana1 said:


> Bump, in hope that some day, I might be able to know the conclusion of this Epic.




And so say we all....

Right [MENTION=63829]Horatio[/MENTION]?

Allan.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

I really wish he would at least pop in and let us know what’s happening, either way. If only we could get in touch with him.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

I’ve got a lot of questions...


----------



## Elephant

Even a quick "Sorry guys, the campaign fizzled due to scheduling difficulties" would be nice as a confirmation.

... OTOH, hope springs eternal.  This SH is the reason I started playing D&D as an adult.


----------



## Sadras

Well he did post today in another thread http://www.enworld.org/forum/showth...ned-if-you-don-t/page10&p=7402378#post7402378 so he is around.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Huh.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Well that’s a bit hurtful, then. He’s actively avoiding this area, I’m guessing.


----------



## darkbard

TheBrassDuke said:


> Well that’s a bit hurtful, then. He’s actively avoiding this area, I’m guessing.




Statements like this, I suggest, are less than helpful, even in jest, if the idea is to draw Sep back to storytelling (or, at least, explanation).


----------



## TheBrassDuke

After a whole lot of the opposite, though, you’ve gotta admit, can’t hurt any more than it already does.


----------



## tleilaxu

if he never posts an update again, I'm still really grateful to Sep for giving so much enjoyment for free! 

...maybe we should start a kickstarter to get him to post some more


----------



## grodog

tleilaxu said:


> if he never posts an update again, I'm still really grateful to Sep for giving so much enjoyment for free!
> 
> ...maybe we should start a kickstarter to get him to post some more




Now there's an idea! 

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Bump!

Allan.


----------



## Erevanden

BUMP !
Until infinity !


----------



## Salthorae

I just reread the entire Chronicles on the consolidated thread. Man this is a good story still.


----------



## Justin

With the amazing modern movie CG, it would be amazing to see something like an HBO GoT-style adaptation of the Tales of Wyre. Obviously somewhat biased and typecasting, and having just re-watched Thor:Ragnarok and Infinity War, I could absolutely see Chris Hemsworth or Chris Evans as Eadric, Sebastian Stan as Tahl, and Benedict Cumberbatch (way long ago I had thought of Hugh Laurie) as Mostin. The dragon at the start of Thor:Ragnarok made me think of Qematiel, Cate Blanchett's Hela was somewhat reminiscent of Visuit, and Josh Brolin's Thanos voice could easily work for Graz'zt, I think. Morena Baccarin as Shomei, perhaps? Ryan Reynolds as Ortwin? (Just kidding!) I'm stumped by Nwm, though. Sting, maybe?!

Obviously the deepness and richness of the philosophies and cosmologies would be difficult to translate or even articulate through the medium of TV, it could still be so incredibly beautiful and epic. The battle at Khu, the hilltop on Afqithan (i.e. Mostin discovers Time Stop), Nwm annihilating the army by himself, and on and on, and that was in like the first year!


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Does anyone have access to this in printed form, available for me to purchase? I really need it for my sanity. lol


----------



## Bloodcookie

TheBrassDuke said:


> Does anyone have access to this in printed form, available for me to purchase? I really need it for my sanity. lol




No, but you're welcome to print out a copy from my compiled .pdfs http://www.enworld.org/forum/showthread.php?58227-Tales-of-Wyre/page22&p=7407188#post7407188 [for personal use only; I assume no copyright over the works of Sepulchrave II, etc. ]


----------



## grodog

TheBrassDuke said:


> Does anyone have access to this in printed form, available for me to purchase? I really need it for my sanity. lol




Once we published John Eric Holmes _Tales of Peril_ collection last year, I re-approached Sep about publishing Wyre, but alas, he's not responded, so.....

Allan.


----------



## Justin

grodog said:


> Once we published John Eric Holmes _Tales of Peril_ collection last year, I re-approached Sep about publishing Wyre, but alas, he's not responded, so.....
> 
> Allan.




He does seem to be somewhat active on the forums based on his recent posting, so maybe he's just quietly working on publishing _The Tales of Wyre: From Heaven to Hell (And Everywhere Else in and Outside the Multiverse) [Volume 1 of 10]_.

Like Jovol, I can _dream_, can't I?


----------



## grodog

Indeed, [MENTION=21262]Justin[/MENTION], indeed 

Allan.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Well I can’t seem to get my hands on a reliable computer right now, and get access to the printed version. Haha, guess I’m stuck re-reading on here until then, and getting my friend to read it here. Haha


----------



## Felix

Yup! My login still works. 

Nice to see you fellas still here. I'll just tip my glass to Eadric & Co.


----------



## grodog

Le bump!

Allan.


----------



## Soramain

New year's eve bump!


----------



## SDFcvAERT

Hey! Nice to see this thread is still active, and that I'm not the only one entering the new year with Tales of Wyre on the mind.


----------



## darkbard

Though it has been over four years since you last updated this tale, Sep, that's no reason the thread shouldn't ride high atop the list of story hours. Once more, for Horatio: bump!


----------



## messy

since there's another fantasy epic that i'm worried may never be completed, i'm not starting on this one until it's finished...


----------



## Soramain

messy said:


> since there's another fantasy epic that i'm worried may never be completed, i'm not starting on this one until it's finished...




You're missing out.


----------



## Neurotic

messy said:


> since there's another fantasy epic that i'm worried may never be completed, i'm not starting on this one until it's finished...




There aren't too many of those around (finished, I mean), but you can read and enjoy while it lasts. As for the books, did you try Wheel of Time?


----------



## grodog

Le bump!

Allan.


----------



## Salthorae

grodog said:


> Le bump!
> 
> Allan.




After 4.5 yrs I begin to despair of any new Wyre stories...


----------



## Shieldhaven

Bumping this thread and waiting for a new Wyre post are the Ancient Traditions of Our People. And where would we be without tradition?


----------



## The Forsaken One

Hah I keep coming back to this thread every couple of months for years now as well . 

Hail to the Ahma.


----------



## grodog

Le bump!

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Bump again! 

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Post-GenCon bump!

Allan.


----------



## grodog

September bump!

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Five-year bump, with David Bowie for emphasis! 


Allan.


----------



## Salthorae

It warms my heart @grodog to see your hope continue to spring eternal


----------



## grodog

Salthorae said:


> It warms my heart @grodog to see your hope continue to spring eternal




Thanks @Salthorae --- hopefully it warms up @Sepulchrave II 's fingers as well 

Allan.


----------



## Felix

You too, @Salthorae! Still here after --checks notes-- 18 years? Good grief.


----------



## Quartz

grodog said:


> hopefully it warms up @Sepulchrave II 's fingers as well
> 
> Allan.




Sep was last active today. Come on @Sepulchrave II !


----------



## Salthorae

Felix said:


> You too, @Salthorae! Still here after --checks notes-- 18 years? Good grief.



Good grief indeed Charlie Brown. And to think the new forum's trophy awards only go up to a decade... 

Here's hoping we can get some more Eadric, et al. love from Sep one day!


----------



## grodog

Salthorae said:


> And to think the new forum's trophy awards only go up to a decade...




Agreed!---Jan 2002 is just the last of a few rebuilds/crashes between 1998? and 2002.  What long, wonderful trip it's been! =)



Salthorae said:


> Here's hoping we can get some more Eadric, et al. love from Sep one day!




That would, of course, be the most wonderful post of the current decade! 

Allan.


----------



## Soramain

I was rereading... again, and I came to the page where Nwm speculates that the Cheshnite apocalypse was Eadric's fault - "Perhaps God can breathe darkness would suit better," - when I had the sudden image of Eadric, flames in his eyes, waking up and deciding not to spare Nehael, a la The Devil's Advocate. 

Anyway.  Bump.


----------



## grodog

Almost-Thanksgiving bump!

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Pre-Chrismas bump!

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Happy New Year bump! 

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Post-St.-Valentine's-Day bump!

Allan.


----------



## Sadras

Sepulchrave II is Enworld's GRRM 

EDIT: Mad storytelling abilities but project got too big...


----------



## grodog

That's it @Sadras---perhaps we can taunt @Sepulchrave II  to write some more for us   

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Almost-May bump!

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Post-midsummer bump!

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Post-Ides-of-August bump!

Allan.


----------



## Fallen_G

Hello there,

I discovered this SH 3-4 years ago, and i have been lurking the thread since then at irregular intervals. Needless to say that I was enthralled by the story and the characters(also, Eadric ftw!) and I'm patiently waiting for an update that surely will come. I noticed that today marks 6 years from the last update, so:

6-year anniversary bump!!

George


----------



## grodog

Pre-Thanksgiving bump!

Allan.


----------



## Joshua Randall

@grodog You are one persistent devil!


----------



## grodog

Indeed =)

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Pre-Christmas bump!  

Happy holidays, @Sepulchrave II =)

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Happy 2021 Bump!

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Almost-March bump!

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Post-Ides of-April bump!

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Bumping for Wyre reference found in the wild on reddit!:  
Allan.


----------



## Neurotic

@grodog just admit that you wanted your praise seen


----------



## grodog

Neurotic said:


> @grodog just admit that you wanted your praise seen




LOL @Neurotic !

While seeing *custardy*'s praise (and mine, though less voluminous) is not a bad thing, I mostly just wanted to bump the thread and offer Sep a little more visibility into the memorable impact that his words (and he and his players' games) have made in the world =)

Allan.


----------



## the Jester

Neurotic said:


> @grodog just admit that you wanted your praise seen



Actually, I think it's more likely he bumped the thread because Sep made an appearance on the boards the other day.


----------



## grodog

the Jester said:


> Actually, I think it's more likely he bumped the thread because Sep made an appearance on the boards the other day.




While I've been working on my prescience and omniscience skills, I don't think they're quite up to that level yet 

Allan.


----------



## grodog

Been-awhile-BUMP!

Allan.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

grodog said:


> Been-awhile-BUMP!
> 
> Allan.



I hope @Sepulchrave II is well.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

He’s been online a lot here lately, I wonder why he’s said nothing, replied to no messages. :/


----------



## grodog

TheBrassDuke said:


> He’s been online a lot here lately, I wonder why he’s said nothing, replied to no messages. :/




Hopefully Sep's gaming regularly, and will get around to an update/closure statement sometime!  

Allan.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Yeah, for sure.

Does anyone know the link to where all the PCs’ stats and items are?

I’m trying to recreate the "Looking Glass of Urm-Nahat", Web of Motes, and a few other things and seem to have lost the list.


----------



## grodog

TheBrassDuke said:


> Does anyone know the link to where all the PCs’ stats and items are?
> I’m trying to recreate the "Looking Glass of Urm-Nahat", Web of Motes, and a few other things and seem to have lost the list.



Try here:  Eadric et. al. (The Paladin and his Friends).

I've also been toying with recreating some of Sep's items for my 1e Greyhawk campaigns, in particular the Web of Motes (the Looking Glass is a classic Mirror of Mental Prowess) and some other artifacts. 

Allan.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

Thanks! I just mowed back through et al and didn’t find any mechanical mention for the Web of Motes, but did manage to snag a couple goodies, such as Pharamne’s Urn and then Shomei’s Rods. So there’s that. :/ I have a Dream Fey building a planar cocoon for his own little demiplane rn (fusing Shadow, Faerie and Dream) and creating something akin to Afqithan but more of a large Wicked Garden sort of place. An Enclave of Dreams, and an Asylum of Nightmares, etc., etc.

Of particular note, I was absolutely able to use the Oneiric Distillate of Khaajh to its fullest recently.

I could really use that Web of Motes though…


----------



## grodog

I don't recall offhand if the Web of Motes was ever described in detail outside of the SH threads in general.  I'll dig around in my archives to see if I can find anything.

Allan.


----------



## Joshua Randall

grodog said:


> I don't recall offhand if the Web of Motes was ever described in detail outside of the SH threads in general.  I'll dig around in my archives to see if I can find anything.
> 
> Allan.




IIRC, Sep wrote that using the Web of Motes involved Arcana checks, but I don't recall that he ever posted game mechanics for it beyond that. My impression was always that it was skill DC based, which is why the PCs would try to buff up their Arcana (directly or via higher Int) before using it.


----------



## grodog

Joshua Randall said:


> IIRC, Sep wrote that using the Web of Motes involved Arcana checks, but I don't recall that he ever posted game mechanics for it beyond that. My impression was always that it was skill DC based, which is why the PCs would try to buff up their Arcana (directly or via higher Int) before using it.




Great point, Joshua!  I'll see if I can go in and compile a "Web of Motes Greatest Hits" doc that pulls together what we know about it all in one place.  And I'll share here once done, of course!

Allan.


----------



## TheBrassDuke

grodog said:


> Great point, Joshua!  I'll see if I can go in and compile a "Web of Motes Greatest Hits" doc that pulls together what we know about it all in one place.  And I'll share here once done, of course!
> 
> Allan.



Maybe we can come together to create our own interpretation of the Web with that!


----------



## Felix

Dear Father Christmas, 

I want a whole lot of things, but one thing a lot of people here want, and that's and update. If you could send some elves to Sep's house before Saturday that'd be great. 

Christos Anesti,
Felix


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## grodog

You know what would make 2022 way better than 2021....

Allan.


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## Noir

Time for a re-read


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## TheBrassDuke

Is there anyone out there willing to help recreate the Web of Motes mechanically, and for 5e? I’m stumped.


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## Siuis

It's taken a few years but I've finally recovered my old email account so I can verify myself (and promptly changed to a non-burner email!)



TheBrassDuke said:


> Is there anyone out there willing to help recreate the Web of Motes mechanically, and for 5e? I’m stumped.




I think the major trouble you'll run into is that 5e just doesn't approach divination the same way? In 3e you could, for example, get a hundred diviners into a room with a gridded map, and as long as you had the power to actually search an area, you could first establish that each grid area would be searched in half an hour; that you were looking for something; and ask "Do I find tnhe thing in section c8, weal or woe?". You could then work this into an algorithm whereby knowing you have the capacity to search a given section, and asssigning each diviner a section, ask if sequence A (asking every odd numbered diviner would find the thing within ten replies) or sequence B (asking if every odd numbered diviner would find it within 11-20 replies) or sequence C (asking if... etc) and eventually develop a binary computer system whereby having a spreadsheet, too much time on your hands, and one hundred diviners with a level 1 spell sitting on your payroll, you could discover a very precise geolocation of any object or creature that was not directly obfuscated from divination, with a single casting of _Augury. _

In 5e, you can't do that. You cannot really push things in the same way because the rules are much less interested in creating a simulation of reality.

Best thing you could do is decide what you want the web of motes to represent knowledge of, and then assign ridiculous DCs to that, but allow preparation using divinations, enhancements, and special conditions to lower the DC.

Maybe it's a DC 50 Arcana check to get a good faith effect of any divination spell, and you reduce that DC by 4 each time someone provides a different _Enhance Ability_ effect for charisma, intelligence or wisdom; Reduce by 4 if the user is a diviner; reduce by 4 if the user can secure themselves a place of power such as a ley line nexus or a wizard tower to do the work in. That right there gives you, a master wizard with some apprentices and real estate, a much more reasonable (50 - (4 x 3 = )12 =) 38 DC check, before the additional reductions being a diviner and having a place of power to work in, dropping it to DC 30, with advantage, A user with an appropriate attribute of 20 and proficiency can hit that, barely, starting at level 6 provided someone is around to drop some _Guidance_ on them!


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## TaranTheWanderer

Siuis said:


> It's taken a few years but I've finally recovered my old email account so I can verify myself (and promptly changed to a non-burner email!)
> 
> 
> 
> I think the major trouble you'll run into is that 5e just doesn't approach divination the same way? In 3e you could, for example, get a hundred diviners into a room with a gridded map, and as long as you had the power to actually search an area, you could first establish that each grid area would be searched in half an hour; that you were looking for something; and ask "Do I find tnhe thing in section c8, weal or woe?". You could then work this into an algorithm whereby knowing you have the capacity to search a given section, and asssigning each diviner a section, ask if sequence A (asking every odd numbered diviner would find the thing within ten replies) or sequence B (asking if every odd numbered diviner would find it within 11-20 replies) or sequence C (asking if... etc) and eventually develop a binary computer system whereby having a spreadsheet, too much time on your hands, and one hundred diviners with a level 1 spell sitting on your payroll, you could discover a very precise geolocation of any object or creature that was not directly obfuscated from divination, with a single casting of _Augury. _
> 
> In 5e, you can't do that. You cannot really push things in the same way because the rules are much less interested in creating a simulation of reality.
> 
> Best thing you could do is decide what you want the web of motes to represent knowledge of, and then assign ridiculous DCs to that, but allow preparation using divinations, enhancements, and special conditions to lower the DC.
> 
> Maybe it's a DC 50 Arcana check to get a good faith effect of any divination spell, and you reduce that DC by 4 each time someone provides a different _Enhance Ability_ effect for charisma, intelligence or wisdom; Reduce by 4 if the user is a diviner; reduce by 4 if the user can secure themselves a place of power such as a ley line nexus or a wizard tower to do the work in. That right there gives you, a master wizard with some apprentices and real estate, a much more reasonable (50 - (4 x 3 = )12 =) 38 DC check, before the additional reductions being a diviner and having a place of power to work in, dropping it to DC 30, with advantage, A user with an appropriate attribute of 20 and proficiency can hit that, barely, starting at level 6 provided someone is around to drop some _Guidance_ on them!



Contact Other Plane essentially answers 5 Yes/No questions.  In game, I’ve done exactly what you described by putting coordinates on a map and used the spell to ask if the mcguffin is in a specific coordinate on the map. 

Maybe the Mote could act as some kind of advanced Contact Other Plane.  It is kind of sentient, after all. The trick is your map isn’t 2D but multi-dimensional and this is where the skill check comes in?


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## Joshua Randall

Sep never explained the mechanics of the Web of Motes - he was even asked directly about it in the Eadric et al. thread, but whether he ignored the query or simply didn't see it, we can't know.

Edit:  here's the specific question: Eadric et. al. (The Paladin and his Friends).

So it can do pretty much whatever it needs to do within your game. I would venture to say that's how Sep would've DM'd it, anyway!


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## grodog

Joshua Randall said:


> Sep never explained the mechanics of the Web of Motes - he was even asked directly about it in the Eadric et al. thread, but whether he ignored the query or simply didn't see it, we can't know.
> 
> So it can do pretty much whatever it needs to do within your game. I would venture to say that's how Sep would've DM'd it, anyway!




Well, I've certainly given some thought to statting it out in 1e terms, but not 3e or more-recent editions 



Joshua Randall said:


> Edit:  here's the specific question: Eadric et. al. (The Paladin and his Friends).didn't see it, we can't know.




That got me thinking:  did we ever see the original 1e versions of the PCs?  I don't recall ever seeing that....

Allan.

PS:  @Sepulchrave II :  one of our dev teams is in Portland, so I'll likely be able to visit sometime in the next 6-ish months.  Would love to catch up while in town


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## Joshua Randall

I don't recall ever seeing any versions of the PCs other than the one posted in the Eadric et al. thread. I guess we know Eadric specifically is the player's prized character since the 1e days, but does the same apply to Nym, Ortwin, Mostin? (I always got the sense that Mostin in particular was created 'recently' to the 'paladin & succubus' situation that kicked off the story hour.)


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## grodog

Joshua Randall said:


> I don't recall ever seeing any versions of the PCs other than the one posted in the Eadric et al. thread. I guess we know Eadric specifically is the player's prized character since the 1e days, but does the same apply to Nym, Ortwin, Mostin? (I always got the sense that Mostin in particular was created 'recently' to the 'paladin & succubus' situation that kicked off the story hour.)




I think that's right.  My (vague!) recollection is 

that Eadric and Ortwin specifically were 1e carry-overs, and I think Nwm too
that the monk PC was killed or retired, and replaced by Mostin

I assume that many of the rest of the characters were likely created natively in 3.x for the events of the campaign.

Allan.


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## Joshua Randall

A monk named Skaddius in fact.


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## TheBrassDuke

So I’ve been running an Eladrin Chronurgist in 5e for a while now, his name is Artellio; we just hit 10th level and I took my single dip in Cleric (Peace Domain). There’s an ability called _Emboldening Bond_ that tethers people together in a fashion.

*From Cleric of Peace:*
_“Starting at 1st level, you can forge an empowering bond among people who are at peace with one another. As an action, you choose a number of willing creatures within 30 feet of you (this can include yourself) equal to your proficiency bonus. You create a magical bond among them for 10 minutes or until you use this feature again. While any bonded creature is within 30 feet of another, the creature can roll a d4 and add the number rolled to an attack roll, an ability check, or a saving throw it makes. Each creature can add the d4 no more than once per turn. …_”

With this, Bless, and an assortment of other neat abilities: (spells, rest-casting said spells, rituals, items, etc.), my party is unstoppable*.

But I’m now looking to create a Web of Motes…link up with every mote out there. Become it? Idk. Just random rambling, ignore me.

Sep, come back plz and tell us about the Web?  

*DM gave me the Tome of the Stilled Tongue…I think maybe to give me choices down the road. But she knows I’m throwing down my most powerful spells that take too long to cast. Instant Tiny Hut? Yus!

[Images: Created by me on HeroForge!]


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## TheBrassDuke

grodog said:


> Try here:  Eadric et. al. (The Paladin and his Friends).
> 
> I've also been toying with recreating some of Sep's items for my 1e Greyhawk campaigns, in particular the Web of Motes (the Looking Glass is a classic Mirror of Mental Prowess) and some other artifacts.
> 
> Allan.



Did you end up doing it?


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## Justin

I was rewatching _Underworld: Evolution _recently and during the opening flashback scene, it struck me how much Amelia in her armor made me think of Yeshe, who was always my favorite of the Cheshnites. As I got to thinking more about the others, I suppose Sibud probably also looked relatively human-like, though I don't know how Sep envisioned him. (Interesting coincidence, Marcus was played by Tony Curran, who also played Thor's grandfather Bor and was phenomenal as Vincent van Gogh in _Doctor Who_.) As for Temenun, I'd love to see a cinematic humanoid tiger as a reference, he was such a badass: "[Gihaahia]_ is still finite. Let her flap her wings."_

Just felt like throwing those thoughts out there. (I've also had a lot of thoughts about Marvel actors in Wyre roles. Chris Evans as Eadric, Benedict Cumberbatch as Mostin (or a younger Hugh Laurie), Josh Brolin as Nwm. Ortwin/Ortwine is a challenge, though.)

_Wyre_ really needs its own wiki! (I manage several large, high-traffic MediaWiki wikis as part of my job...)

EDIT: Oh yeah, Amy Pond is Nebula! (And I believe Matt Smith was in that recent Marvel vampire movie that I haven't seen, so I won't comment further on that.) Oh, and the museum guy in _Doctor Who_ was Bill Nighy, aka Viktor in _Underworld_! 

MORE EDIT: Sibud's description: "His skin, grey and cracked, resembled shrivelled leather which moulted a fine dust; obscene black fingernails dripped a caustic venom, which smoked as it struck the withering grass at his feet. As Eadric's vision rested upon his form, he knew that only the vampire's resolute will maintained his quiddity, preventing his dissolution into a cloud of atoms. But into Sibud's face, the _Ahma_ could not bring himself to look; it haunted the margin of his sight as the memory of his own death."


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## Joshua Randall

Ortwin could be played by Taron Egerton (the Kingsmen movies and the Freddie Mercury bio-pic). Yes the description of Ortwin as singing like Freddie Mercury made me think of this.


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## Justin

Oh, just hit me, Karl Urban as Tahl. Maybe Famke Jannsen as Gihaahia?

On a more related note, I just noticed that the last story update was in October of 2014, with Gihaahia (love that name, I'd used it for a Nelf Blood DK in WoW for a long time) about to go on holiday and telling the wizards to make a deal with Temenun. Makes me sad to think that we'll probably never get a conclusion, unless Sep has been working on polishing up the story into an Eriksonian-length novel series. _Inquiry?_


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## TheBrassDuke

Justin said:


> Oh, just hit me, Karl Urban as Tahl. Maybe Famke Jannsen as Gihaahia?
> 
> On a more related note, I just noticed that the last story update was in October of 2014, with Gihaahia (love that name, I'd used it for a Nelf Blood DK in WoW for a long time) about to go on holiday and telling the wizards to make a deal with Temenun. Makes me sad to think that we'll probably never get a conclusion, unless Sep has been working on polishing up the story into an Eriksonian-length novel series. _Inquiry?_



I think he’s left us, honestly. He’s finished with Wyre, as far as it looks. He comes online here frequently, but hasn’t once replied to anyone here. So you gotta figure at this point, really.


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## Justin

TheBrassDuke said:


> I think he’s left us, honestly. He’s finished with Wyre, as far as it looks. He comes online here frequently, but hasn’t once replied to anyone here. So you gotta figure at this point, really.



I know, I was just being a little cheeky with the book comment. And the inquiry comment was a reference to Mostin when explaining that Gihaahia had given Daunton's the _Instant Convocation_ spell and hoping she might help him similarly.

After 14 years of posting the game/story, I wouldn't be at all surprised if Sep had simply gotten burned out on it. I'm just happy for what we did get, some of the most amazing fantasy ever written!

Wait, I've got the answer! Anyone know how to get in touch with Brandon Sanderson?


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## TheBrassDuke

Justin said:


> I know, I was just being a little cheeky with the book comment. And the inquiry comment was a reference to Mostin when explaining that Gihaahia had given Daunton's the _Instant Convocation_ spell and hoping she might help him similarly.
> 
> After 14 years of posting the game/story, I wouldn't be at all surprised if Sep had simply gotten burned out on it. I'm just happy for what we did get, some of the most amazing fantasy ever written!
> 
> Wait, I've got the answer! Anyone know how to get in touch with Brandon Sanderson?



I pray for a conclusion to Wyre someday, however


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## Joshua Randall

_After a lengthy and complex set of battles both physical and metaphysical against their enemies, the PCs at last destroy/save The Adversary itself, ushering in a new golden (birdless?) age to Wyre._

The End.

At least, that's how I like to imagine it.


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## Aja Saldana1

I graduated highschool and college since my last post in this thread lol. @Sepulchrave II  bless up this damn story still lives rent free in my head


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## Justin

I quit World of Warcraft for good last year when I deleted my Bnet account due to all the Blizzard BS, but recently I've been watching/listening to a couple of YouTube channels' music/rain/ambience videos of Vanilla and BC zones, mostly Nelf and Belf stuff (listening to one as I type this). The nostalgia is killing me but I'm standing my ground.

That said, it just struck me that *this entire story started two years before World of Warcraft launched! *I've used a lot of names from this story for characters in both WoW and GW2: my first paladin was Tahl, my first warlock was Kalkja, and my GW2 mesmer is Qematiel. Sep and his players are really great at coming up with awesome names, whereas I am not. (I'd love to see a male human mage named Mostin with the Insane title!)


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## Erevanden

I've been lurking so many years here, It's hard to believe.
Sep's campaign left an enormous imprint on my own rpg life. It was like finally finding the place you belong. Blissful experience, really. The setting. The heroes. The antagonists. The marvellous epic rules. The writing, much better than in any published book I have read in a very, very long time. Never, perhaps.

And then it was suddenly taken away.
But I still have hope, that Sepulchrave will one day return to us. Or at least reveal, why he abandoned us. Though I would definitely prefer a return in all his eloquent glory.

There are still so many wonders, he never shared with us...


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## TheBrassDuke

Erevanden said:


> I've been lurking so many years here, It's hard to believe.
> Sep's campaign left an enormous imprint on my own rpg life. It was like finally finding the place you belong. Blissful experience, really. The setting. The heroes. The antagonists. The marvellous epic rules. The writing, much better than in any published book I have read in a very, very long time. Never, perhaps.
> 
> And then it was suddenly taken away.
> But I still have hope, that Sepulchrave will one day return to us. Or at least reveal, why he abandoned us. Though I would definitely prefer a return in all his eloquent glory.
> 
> There are still so many wonders, he never shared with us...



What is strange, however…

Sep still comes online, and so do a few of his players from that game; some of them commented here from time to time, iirc. They haven’t said a peep either. At all.


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## Justin

TheBrassDuke said:


> What is strange, however…
> 
> Sep still comes online, and so do a few of his players from that game; some of them commented here from time to time, iirc. They haven’t said a peep either. At all.



I hope we all respect whatever his wishes are regarding the story and don't pester him. If he wanted to respond here, he would, so he obviously has his reasons. Sep (I'm sorry, I forget your real name), if you're reading this, thank you for everything!

That aside, I would literally figuratively kill for some fantasy books that came anywhere close to the beauty, depth, and quality of the Tales of Wyre. I've tried to get into Malazan, but twice made it to only about a third into the second book, Deadhouse Gates. Anyone have any recommendations?


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## grodog

Justin said:


> That aside, I would literally figuratively kill for some fantasy books that came anywhere close to the beauty, depth, and quality of the Tales of Wyre. I've tried to get into Malazan, but twice made it to only about a third into the second book, Deadhouse Gates. Anyone have any recommendations?




If you like the depth of Wyre and it's AD&D/1st edition vibes (despite being grounded in 3.x mechanics so well/strongly, I still think of Wyre as an AD&D/1e game in theme/tone), you may want to check out Anthony Huso's fiction, which grew out of his 1e campaign setting.  He published two novels via TOR, as well as several adventure 1e modules (some of which feature in passing in the novels):


Novels = "The Last Page" and its sequel "Black Bottle" at BookFinder.com: Search Results (Matching Titles)
Modules on Lulu at https://www.lulu.com/spotlight/anthonyhuso (lots of inter-planar fun here, between Zjelwyin Fall (astral), The City of Brass (n.b.: two books), and Dream House of the Nether Prince (abyss)
Huso's web site at AD&D | Anthony Huso

Allan.


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## grodog

TheBrassDuke said:


> Did you end up doing it?




Yes and no =)

I haven't written up the Web of Motes yet, but I did include a reference to it in a long sestina-form prophecy for my 1e/Greyhawk campaign players, who are in the process of recovering it from Anthony Huso's _Zjelwyin Fall_ adventure set in the Astral Plane.

The stanza with my Web of Motes reference is:



> A web of motes illumines ley lines, planes, and gates,
> divines clear paths of quiet through the silences, whispers’
> susurrations, and branching forks—all ways to woe.
> To fight the future, decrypt its resounding secrets,
> speak their wisdoms to the chiaroscuro shadows,
> unveil the prince of raptors, find allies in umbrage.




All of this is part-and-parcel for a long article I've been writing on divination in AD&D, which will likely appear in the Oerth Journal in a month or so.

Allan.


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## Justin

grodog said:


> If you like the depth of Wyre and it's AD&D/1st edition vibes (despite being grounded in 3.x mechanics so well/strongly, I still think of Wyre as an AD&D/1e game in theme/tone), you may want to check out Anthony Huso's fiction, which grew out of his 1e campaign setting.  He published two novels via TOR, as well as several adventure 1e modules (some of which feature in passing in the novels):
> 
> 
> Novels = "The Last Page" and its sequel "Black Bottle" at BookFinder.com: Search Results (Matching Titles)
> Modules on Lulu at https://www.lulu.com/spotlight/anthonyhuso (lots of inter-planar fun here, between Zjelwyin Fall (astral), The City of Brass (n.b.: two books), and Dream House of the Nether Prince (abyss)
> Huso's web site at AD&D | Anthony Huso
> 
> Allan.



Thanks, Allan, I really appreciate the feedback and references. I've also gone back and started re-reading Blackdirge's Metamorphosis.


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## BLACKDIRGE

Justin said:


> Thanks, Allan, I really appreciate the feedback and references. I've also gone back and started re-reading Blackdirge's Metamorphosis.




Nice to see folks are still reading it all these years later.


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## Neurotic

Hmmm, I lost those and lazybones' too when I changed laptops unexpextedlY (HD broke down)

Searchin....thanks for the reminder


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## TheBrassDuke

How would you approach explaining ToW’s use of Dweomer, Valence/Transvalent, etc. to someone who doesn’t understand Vancian Magic, and is essentially new to the game but wants an explanation? I’ve combed through Eadric et al, and here—I have found some examples, but nothing to really explain it. Especially in-character.


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## Joshua Randall

Dweomer is a word from Norse mythology. It was dwarf magic. In D&D it’s a cool sounding word for a magical aura.

The valences are an analogy to valences in chemistry. The ability of an element to combine with others. The way Sep uses it is more like atomic orbitals, where each orbital can hold a certain amount of atoms. Hence the analogy to spell levels: each spell has a discrete level and can exist in that orbital. This explains why you can’t just cast infinite spells, because you can only hold them in your “valences” much like an element can only combine with so many hydrogen atoms.

Transvalent is beyond valent, beyond level 9, that is epic level spells.


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## grodog

Eight-year bump! 

Allan.


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## grodog

Happy New Year bump! 

Allan.


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