# Soneillon. Part 2. (Updated 10/7)



## Sepulchrave II

Tally ho! (And forgive the rambling footnotes).



**

*The Big Fight: Part 2*


"Have you determined where the leader is?" Eadric asked Nwm. The party were descending towards the ground.

The Druid nodded. "There is a clutch of extraplanars half a mile ahead of us. Some are very powerful, Ed. We might be well advised to retreat."

The Paladin gritted his teeth. They had come a long way, in order to merely run away at the first sign of serious resistance. He glanced briefly at the two solars who flanked him. Surely, nothing could overcome them. They were safe, as long as the celestials were present.

As if in response, something dreadful flickered across Eadric’s perception, and reality darkened for a moment. The celestial to his left, the solar Taruz, _communed_ briefly, and then spoke directly into his mind.

*Immeasurable grief. Zhorion destroyed.*

_Zhorion?_

*A third solar, conjured by Shomei* 

Eadric gaped. "Shomei. Is the dragon gone?" 

"No," Nwm replied, pointing backwards.

Far behind, but closing rapidly, Crosod’s vast and now-visible form thundered through the air.

Shomei reappeared. "Not good," she said. "He’s too fast. Mostin, if you get a chance, hit him with a _disintegrate_. You might be luckier than I."

"I have no intention of staying around," Mostin answered. "I’m going to open a _gate_ back to the Prime…"

‘Wait," Eadric interrupted. He gave a quizzical look as he received a _sending_.

_One down, two to go. How many cherubs can the Ahma kill in one day? If you require arbitration, I am available. Titivilus._

"Titivilus just issued a _sending_ to me."

"Screw that," Mostin said. "Are you ready?"

And everything became dark.


**

It was an impenetrable, cloying blackness of an altogether unnatural kind, stagnant and suffocating. Everything seemed to drift listlessly, and sounds were muffled. 

The _greater dispelling_, which then struck the party from an unknown source had a devastating effect. The _mind blanks_ which sat upon Iua, Eadric, Shomei and Nwm evaporated, the glamour upon Ortwin disappeared, and Mostin suddenly found himself vulnerable to death magic. A green ray struck him, _anchoring_ him and then another, targeting Shomei, also found its mark.

"Sh*t," Mostin exclaimed.

"Nwm, do something," Ortwin groaned, "I can’t see anything."

"I see them," Shomei announced. "There are two of them. Eighty yards. Two o’clock to you, Mostin."

The darkness vanished abruptly as Taruz broke the spell which caused it. Mostin gasped as his vision returned and his magical sight rested on its source – a succubus, and a _something_, which seemed to flicker on the edge of reality. Something which, partially at least, _was not_.

Mostin’s mind reeled as he tried to absorb the paradox. Ortwin discharged a rapid volley of enervating magical arrows at the succubus, who lurched in the air.

The second solar, Pharanthe, was incanting under his breath, as Eadric turned his head to see a Loquai of unusual beauty flying towards him upon an umbral griffon of prodigious size. He was accompanied by a sinuous winged shadow which flew gracefully through the air – Irknaan and Nhura, no doubt, Eadric mused. 

Shomei screamed and desiccated into a wrinkled corpse as the party were overwhelmed by two powerful _horrid wiltings_. Nightmares and ecalypses perished – through foresight, this time, the group were protected by magical flight. More wards collapsed as another _greater dispelling_ ripped across them all and Ortwin – still fortunately _mind blanked_ – shrugged off a _feeblemind_ spell which would have otherwise utterly overwhelmed him. All around, succubi, palrethees, daemons and demodands were manifesting – and there was another _something_ which was partially non-existent. Drawing Shupthul’s bow, the Paladin shot five arrows which burst into flame, thudding into the flank of the umbral lillend. She reeled in pain.

Mostin swore profusely, quickly erected a _wall of force_ around them all, and opened a _gate_. "Everybody get through," he screeched. "Nwm, you have to get this damned _anchor_ off of me!" 

The Druid glanced briefly at Shomei’s body, and nodded. She could wait – they needed to get out of there, and quickly. "Get the rod and bracelet," he instructed Sem and Gheim. He quickly incanted a _greater dispelling_ upon Mostin, but the _dimensional anchor_ remained firmly in place.

Mostin swore. "Go!" He commanded. Nwm and Iua dashed through the _gate_, followed by the two eagles.

Inside of the protected area, another _gate_ opened, conjured by the solar Pharanthe. A third solar stepped through. Mostin screamed again.

The _wall of force_ shuddered briefly as a magical assault was absorbed, and several demons _teleported_ within its confines. Mostin raised an eyebrow as the barrier quickly dissipated when a subsequent _disintegrate_ struck it. It was followed by a violated storm of sound which tore at the flesh of those present, and another _disintegrate_, which reduced Ortwin to his component atoms.

Iua screamed. 

From within her protective void, Soneillon hissed. Lehurze was going _too_ far. She would have strong words with her after this. If she had killed the _Ahma_ by accident…*

Taruz shot a barrage of _fey slaying_ arrows at Irknaan, who was closing rapidly on their position. Several found their mark, but the Sidhe-King shook off their death magic, used a _limited wish_ to shut the _gate_ and pronounced a quick _dismissal_.

Two of the solars abruptly vanished. 

Nhura’s will rested upon Eadric and Mostin in succession, attempting to immobilize them both, but failing to effect either. Palrethees hewed at both the Paladin and the Alienist as Mostin squawked at Eadric.

"Sh*t. Get close."

Shooting yet more darts at the Loquai king, Eadric moved towards Mostin, who shook his head, _plane shifted_ Eadric, and invoked a _prismatic sphere_, encapsulating himself.

The protective bubble, scintillating with colour and power, hung motionless in the skies of Afqithan, thirty feet above the umbral canopy of its dense forest. 

The remaining solar, Taruz, beset by demons, and upon the escape of Eadric, promptly vanished.

"Great." Mostin said. 

Through the shifting colours of the sphere, demons could be seen moving outside. The wizard sighed, and wondered whether if, jointly, his enemies had the wherewithal to penetrate his defenses.


**


The _gate_ opened in the courtyard of Kyrtill’s Burh, at the base of the ivy-covered Steeple. Iua was shaking.

Nwm turned back to the portal, to see if anything else was coming through, but it abruptly dissolved.

"Ortwin…" Iua began.

"Will be fine," Nwm said. "He is merely experiencing a temporary disembodiment."

"When can you…"

"Tomorrow," Nwm answered. He scowled – around them, the devas appointed to guard the castle were gently alighting and manifesting. Their swords, rippling with flames, were already drawn.

"This is holy ground," one of them declared. "You should not be here."

Iua closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, and then breathed deeply for several seconds.

"Do _not_ piss me off," she said.


*


Eadric appeared beneath an ancient beech-tree, the branches of which hung over a small stream which chattered over smooth pebbles. Around him, a forest, with its late summer colours enhanced by the dusk, was visible in all directions. He hardly felt as if he had moved.

The Paladin wondered where he was. Somewhere in Wyre, presumably. Hopefully.

He briefly contemplated the likely inaccuracy of Mostin’s _plane shift_, and decided that, wherever he was, Nwm would find him before he himself could do anything positive about finding Nwm.

Eadric set down his shield, removed his arms, took off his helm, and, laying his sword across his knees, meditated.


*


Irknaan glowered in disgust as he flew his griffon around the _prismatic sphere_ before descending to the forest floor. Several _summoned_ fiends were vanishing back to their respective glooms, although the compactees – of whom there were nearly a score – remained hovering in the skies nearby.

Soneillon approached, and assumed a stable form. Nhura eyed her suspiciously. 

"Can you penetrate it?" Irknaan asked.

"Not without more preparation," the Demoness answered.

The king of the Loquai briefly considered his cloak – it might offer sufficient protection to enter. There again, it might not. And Irknaan was too old and cautious to test its powers to that extent.

"Then we have an impasse," Irknaan observed. "The _dimensional anchor_ will fail before the sphere does. Who do you suppose the kelvezu is?"

"Either Mostin the Metagnostic or Shomei the Infernal," Soneillon answered. "I presume the former – I suspect that Shomei is dead."

"And the Weapon?"

"It would seem that the Weapon has eluded us," Soneillon remarked drily. Two of the palrethees approached with armfuls of items garnered from the treetops and forest floor – Ortwin’s cloak, scimitar, bow and leather jerkin; and Shomei’s pack, which contained a variety of fabulous items. Nhura inspected them, and drew the scimitar from its scabbard.

"This is _Githla_," she said. "The Azer Jodrumu forged it. It has a long history."

"Even all of these items do not suffice as a weregild for Shupthul and the others," Irknaan snapped.

"There is also a half-sidhe, strapped to a dead nightmare," the Palrethee reported. "She still lives."

Koilimilou, Irknaan smiled to himself. 

"The celestials almost succeeded in a cascade**," Nhura remarked. "More than three would have been a problem. This must not be allowed to happen again. Why is the _Ahma_ in Afqithan, and why is my spouse and King consorting with Soneillon?" Nhura’s quick mind and knowledge of obscure lore was rapidly piecing things together.

"It is a complex matter," Soneillon purred.

"Then explain it, demoness," Nhura hissed.

"The _Ahma_ is in Afqithan in order to vex Graz’zt. He perceives Irknaan as a loyal subject of the Prince. He may be beginning to understand that things are somewhat more convoluted than that."

Nhura’s eyes quickly scanned all of those present as she spoke again. In her peripheral vision, the shadow of the wyrm was moving rapidly. Her mind raced, and she elected to take an enormous risk. 

"Lady Soneillon, you would find me more tractable than my husband," the Lillend said.

"Silence, bitch!" Irknaan screeched, as the full weight of his Will descended upon Nhura. Blood began to pour from her mouth, nostrils and ears, and the flesh began to peel from her.

Perceiving the truth of Nhura’s words, and without hesitation, Soneillon spoke two dreadful words which echoed across Afqithan. The outer shell of the _prismatic sphere_ quivered in sympathetic vibration, as the magical lattice of the demiplane was stretched closer to its dilational limit.

Irknaan wailed as his cloak’s wards failed him. He burned rapidly into a black vapour, which was carried away on a frigid wind.

The Demoness bent down, slowly picked up the dark mantle, threw it over Nhura, and fastened its clasp about her neck.

"What will you do now, your Majesty?" Soneillon asked, half-amused.

"I think I will take a hunt to the Prime," Nhura replied. 

"For what purpose?" Soneillon asked.

"If you have concerns that the _Ahma_ might be dead," Nhura said, "you should put them aside. The sidhe who was _disintegrated_ was not him – the sword of Eadric of Deorham is Lukarn, not Githla. I can deliver him to you. Demons are forbidden by the Interdict, but the Loquai are not. And neither is he," she pointed.

Crosod circled suspiciously at a distance of a thousand yards.


* 

Mostin fidgeted uncomfortably within the _prismatic sphere_, unaware of the events which transpired beyond the rainbow which surrounded him. Apparently, his enemies lacked a _disjunction_ or the correct combination of spells to bring the ward down.

After forty minutes, the _dimensional anchor_ which had barred his own passage from Afqithan failed. Mostin smiled ironically. He lacked sufficient remaining power to safely exit the demiplane. Gingerly, the Alienist thrust his head through the _prismatic sphere_ before quickly retreating it back inside.

Demons. Lots of demons. Most were succubi, but some were very big, and dangerous. There were also a Shator, and two Nycadaemons. And a huge dragon.

Mostin swallowed. The sphere would last six more hours. Nearly two days in Prime Material reckoning. He wondered nervously if his friends could organize a rescue in that time.

He fidgeted again. Not good. Not good.

The Alienist briefly considered using his Mirror to escape, but the thought of leaving it in Afqithan while he fled was too painful. 

He gritted his teeth, _hasted_ himself again, floated through the sphere, and _teleported_ to a location one thousand miles to the west, where he appeared in a dark and very remote corner of the shadowy realm.

Mostin’s heart pounded in his chest, and his eyes flitted around as he waited to see if a sensor would follow him. 

He uttered a profanity. There it was. He had to go. There was no other way, or they would be on to him.

Space buckled around him, as Mostin invoked a _reality maelstrom_ and was sucked through into another dimension. 

It didn’t matter which one, he idly considered, as long as it wasn’t Afqithan. 


*


Iua paced ceaselessly near Nwm’s glade, as the Druid, who had resumed a form similar to his natural one, sat in silent reverie with the Green. 

He was _infuriating_ in the level of nonchalance that he was exhibiting. 

"Get some sleep. Eat something." He had instructed. "There is nothing that I can do until dawn."

Dawn was ten hours away. Iua had scowled, and resumed her pacing. The sun set, the moon rose, midnight passed her by, and in the small hours of the morning, the duelist was gripped by terrible fear.

Nwm remained sitting. Erect, composed, and absurdly serene – as mice scurried over him and investigated his beard and hair.

As the first rays of the sun struck him, he mumbled for ten seconds, smiled and stood up.

"Well?" Iua asked.

"Eadric is in the forest of Nizkur. Mostin is southeast of here, over the ocean." Nwm seemed somewhat surprised by his own words.

Iua gave a hopeful smile.

"Alright," he sighed. He wondered if she would ever understand how much it would cost him.

Ortwin returned as a satyr – although not the _same_ satyr. His hair was ruddier, and he seemed wilder and more unkempt. His grin was unmistakable, however.

"How was death?" Nwm asked.

"The same as last time," Ortwin said easily. "Do you have a mirror?"

"Your weapons and equipment are lost," Nwm remarked. "I think that you’d better try and adjust."

Ortwin opened his mouth in horror.


*


When Shomei awoke, she screamed uncontrollably. Her form – although human and female – was unfamiliar. Nwm waited until the episode had passed before he spoke to her.

"I take it that death was an unpleasant experience?" The Druid asked.

She said nothing, but her face conveyed pain and trauma. She spent a moment inspecting the structure of her mind, noting the disposition of her higher valences.

"Nwm…" She began.

"You owe me," he said.***

She nodded.

From under his cloak, the Druid produced her rod and bracelet.

"You _really_ owe me," he added. 

Ortwin scowled. "I should have died first. Your birds might have grabbed my cloak and Githla. What happens now?"

"We find Ed and Mostin," Nwm replied. "I know where they are. We simply have to retrieve them." The Druid turned to Shomei. "Can you get them here?" He asked.

"Not yet," she answered. "I have a duplicate set of books at my home. I need to consult them. But I’m sure that Mostin is quite safe. He is very inventive."

Nwm looked dubious.


**


Mostin found himself in a churning whirlpool as the _reality maelstrom_ deposited him in the Plane of Elemental Water. He groped around blindly for a moment, flapped his arms in an attempt to escape the vortex, and eventually retrieved an _Ioun stone_ from his belt and set it spinning around his head.

His look of smug satisfaction was replaced by one of horror, as he glanced over his shoulder to observe three succubi, who had followed him _through_ the maelstrom.

_These demons are crazy_, Mostin thought. Wearily, he _disintegrated_ one of the demonesses and struck another with his last _sonic orb_ – the latter spell was wholly unimpressive after the spectacular magical effects which Afqithan had bestowed. 

Both remaining succubi attempted to _charm_ him, and although he shrugged off their efforts, Mostin swallowed nervously. It was only a matter of time before his luck ran out. 

The Alienist observed in fascination, as the _reality maelstrom_ continued to suck random matter from Afqithan into the water around him: branches, stones and dirt drifted by.

Another succubus rode through the planar rift and appeared ten yards away. It was the one who had _disintegrated_ his previous _wall of force_.

Mostin cursed. He _summoned_ three pseudomarids and instructed two of them to attack his assailants. The third, he ordered to _plane shift_ him back to the Prime.

Lehurze spoke, and the waters seemed to warp as a _power word, stun_ overcame Mostin, rendering him insensible. The demoness activated her _cubic gate_, and Mostin’s eyes widened in terror as a portal to Afqithan appeared. The two other succubi closed and attempted to grapple with him as he floated impotently, whilst the summoned pseudoelementals struck at the demonesses.

Abruptly, the scene changed as the Alienist, together with the third pseudonatural genie, _plane shifted_. Half of the world seemed to become salt water above him, and half of it was air below him. Mostin bobbed upside-down in the water, stricken, at the interface of the two realms.

A minute passed, and the effects of Lehurze’s powerful attack subsided. Gingerly, Mostin arose from out of the water and hovered above it. He dried himself with a _prestidigitation_ and glanced around.

The ocean extended as far as he could see, in every direction.

Mostin quickly calculated the time differential between Afqithan and the Material Plane, and knew that it should be night-time in Wyre. He looked at the sun. It was mid morning. Apparently, he was over the Eastern Ocean, and Wyre was at least five thousand miles away.

Mostin sighed, and began to fly west.


*


Eadric was drawn from his trance abruptly as a mote of light dashed across his field of vision. He glanced up, to notice the waxing moon riding high in the sky above him.

He scowled, and calling upon the Eye of Palamabron which hung around his neck, his vision penetrated the shadows which lay about. Nearly a hundred grigs, pixies, buckawns, sprites and other diminutive feys – either of obscure or unique type – were arranged in a wide circle around him. They watched him suspiciously.

Eadric smiled. He was, of course, a sidhe – at least to casual inspection. His observers seemed nervous of that fact: to say that the coolest and most civilized of feys were _infrequent_ visitors to the World of Men would have been a laughable understatement.

The Paladin cleared his throat, and called out. "I am no sidhe," he assured them. "I am a mortal. My name is Eadric of Deorham."

For several seconds, there was no response. Then a shrill voice piped forth. "_Naheen nehaar eleel chellaath?_"

"I regret that I cannot understand you," Eadric admitted.

Noisy chattering followed for several minutes. Finally, a fat and singularly pompous-looking pixie fluttered forwards, attended by numerous moths of large size. When he spoke, his words ran together in an almost unintelligible stream, which Eadric found difficulty in understanding.

"Itismostimpolitetoappearthuswithoutinvitation, andsitbeneaththetreewhichiscalled_Nadholuridin_."

"Should I have chosen another tree?" Eadric asked wrily.

"Youaremostrude! Nowyouinsultuswithsarcasticcomments. Weshouldmakeyoudanceuntilyoudropdeadfromexhaustion! Youarefortunatethatanotherhasintervenedonyourbehalf, oryouwouldfeelourroyalwrathdescenduponyou! Mostgraciousandkindandrespectfulhewas, andthereforewearepreparedtobelenient. Butbeforeyouleaveyouwillapologizeto_Nadholuridin_, fortheimpositionthatyouhavesubjectedherto!"

Eadric scowled, and wondered who had ‘intervenedonhisbehalf.’

The pixie raised his arm, and from somewhere behind him a tiny trumpet, more akin to a whistle than any other instrument, sounded forth.

A lone figure walked towards him from beneath the trees. His hair and beard were shaggy, and he wore a simple grey smock, drawn in loosely around his waist by a thin hemp rope.

Eadric gaped, and pressed his forehead to the earth.

Tramst, the _Sela_, touched him lightly on the shoulder, and the glamour which still sat upon the Paladin, hiding his true form, dissolved.

"And how are things with you, Eadric?" Tramst asked, smiling.

The _Ahma_, experiencing an upwelling of confusion, grief, and a sense of profound failure - mixed in unlikely measure with a feeling of complete safety in the presence of Oronthon’s proxy - wept cathartically.








*NOTES*

*It seemed a reasonable tactic to use hit-point attrition – Eadric would probably be the last person standing, and the mages would get taken out first. Lehurze was still _geased_ by Irknaan, and wasn’t operating to Soneillon’s complete satisfaction.

**A cascade occurs when a wizard or cleric _gates_ a solar to a plane (usually the Prime), and it, in turn, opens more _gates_. The new arrivals open further _gates_ etc. An uninterrupted cascade can be very quick and effective – there were more than three hundred celestials present at Khu within a minute of the initial _gate_. Half were Solars and Planetars.

‘Cascade’ is a technical term used by arcanists – most of whom view celestial descents as unwanted extraplanar meddling, in stark contrast to the ‘wondrous miracle’ that the pious experience.


***Nwm used a _true reincarnation_ on both Ortwin and Shomei – there was no level loss associated with their deaths. Note that with the 9th level spell I simply allow the caster to choose the form that the new incarnation takes – fortunately, Nwm’s player, Dave, is not prone to exploiting this power.


The spell spoken by Soneillon was _Be Not!_, an Epic Spell of her own contrivance:

*Be Not!*
Transmutation 

Spellcraft DC: 36
Components: V
Casting Time: 1 action
Range: 300 feet
Target: One living creature
Duration: Instantaneous
Saving Throw: Fortitude partial
Spell Resistance: Yes
To Develop: Seeds: slay (DC 25); destroy (DC 29). Factors: decrease casting time to 1 action (+20 DC); increase spell’s save DC by +20 (+40 DC); no somatic component (+2 DC); gain +20 bonus on caster level check to overcome target’s spell resistance (+40 DC). Mitigating factor: burn 10000 xp (-100 DC), 20d6 backlash (-20 DC).

The caster utters a single, terrible phrase, destroying the target utterly and removing all traces of it from existence unless it succeeds at a fortitude saving throw (DC 40 + relevant ability modifier.) If the target saving throw succeeds or it has more than 80 levels / hit dice, then it instead sustains 13d6 +20 points of damage. Note that even if the save is successful but the target is reduced to –10 or fewer hit points, its existence is similarly erased.


*Other Notes:*

1. It’s worth mentioning that I knew that the party was heavily outmatched, and they should have guessed as much. They ought to have fled immediately, but they _dithered_. 
2. I ruled that although Mostin was _dimensionally anchored_ he could still cast spells which allowed interplanar travel – he simply couldn’t travel that way himself.
3. The idea to use _summoned_ creatures to _plane shift_ came a little late for Mostin. He would have saved himself grief if he’d thought of it earlier. Hats off for inventiveness, though.
4. Soneillon’s spell _Be Not!_ is an example of exactly _why_ she is so dangerous – and why Graz’zt fears her so much. Chthonic demons pay no XP cost for spells which normally require it – in Mostin’s terms, her ‘reservoir is limitless’. The 10,000XP burn becomes a standard mitigating factor. C.f.

*Shattersoul*

Transmutation
Spellcraft DC: 38
Components: V, S
Casting Time: 1 action
Range: 300 ft.
Target: One creature
Duration: Instantaneous
Saving Throw: Fortitude negates
Spell Resistance: Yes


To Develop: Seeds: Transform (DC 21), Transport (DC 27), Ward (DC 14). Factors: transform into inanimate object (+10 DC); transform into seven components (ad hoc +30 DC); transport to extraplanar location (+2 DC); decrease casting time to 1 action (+20 DC); protect against _discern location_ (+14 DC); increase saving throw DC by +10 (+20 DC). Mitigating Factors: burn 10,000 XP (-100 DC); 20d6 backlash (-20 DC).

_Shattersoul_ instantly transforms a single creature into seven identical stone spheres of diminutive size unless it succeeds at a Fortitude saving throw (DC 30+ relevant modifier). The spheres are approximately six inches in diameter. 

Each stone is sent to a random planar destination, where it remains until recovered. Only upon recovery of all of the stones is any kind of restoration possible for the victim of a _shattersoul_ spell. A _wish_ or _miracle_, or an appropriate epic spell which uses the _transform_ seed may then be used to restore the target of the _shattersoul_.

All of the seven spheres are protected by a ward which renders them impervious to efforts to discover their whereabouts by means of the _discern location_ spell. Epic spells which use the _reveal_ seed must succeed at an opposed caster level check in order to determine the location of each of the stone spheres.


_Shattersoul_ bends the rules close to breaking point but, hey, I'm the DM


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

Whoa.  Amazing, simply amazing-all I have to say is, the kiddie gloves are off!  (Although I am surprised Mostin didn't gate anything using the epic pseudonatural template in, then promptly leaving it there as they fled... )


----------



## starwolf

33 views in less than thirty minutes......Gee, do you think this story hour is popular? and that with something like 206 people on the boards at this time......

Wow!


----------



## Elder-Basilisk

Wow! I look forward to seeing what happens next. Eadric and friends have definitely set a lot of events into motion. What I suppose remains to be seen is whether or not they survive them.


----------



## ThoughtBubble

You know, I read through the entire list of the stuff today, and then this appears. Talk about lucky timing. 

I'm still a little perplexed as to the group's plans on the plane. I understand that it's about weakening Graz’zt, but the tone just feels oddly different.

Still enjoying it though.


----------



## Gez

Ouch! That was a tough fight. One solar, Shomei, and Orwin.

On the other hand, Irknan is no more...


----------



## Grifter86

Hi Sepulchrave!

 I am a long time fan of this particular story hour. As I have moved closer to catching up all the way with the story, I have noticed something. 

Are you familiar with the Albigensian (sp?) heresy that occurred in what is now southern France in the 1200's? I am no expert on the subject. In fact, I'm hardly conversant.

However, I do know enough about the Albigensians (also called the Cathars) to perceive a similarity between their faith and the faith of some of the Oronthunian heretics. Or I might be overanalyzing. Or I might be crazy. 

You see, the Albigensians believed that God was embodied in a "light" and a "dark" form. There was no Satan; God was simply both good and evil. Subsequently, the Cathars were wiped out by Pope Innocent III. I think the spiritual conflict that Eadric precipitated has similar elements, except the heretics appear to have won in this version.

Have you ever examined this particular chapter in history and, if so, has it inspired you in you work on this particular campaign?


----------



## Anabstercorian

Is there any place where all of your rules materials is archived, Sepulchrave, or at least a place where I cuold find links to all of it?


----------



## Sepulchrave II

> (Although I am surprised Mostin didn't gate anything using the epic pseudonatural template in, then promptly leaving it there as they fled...




This was, in fact, his original plan - unfortunately he had to use his _gate_ to get everyone out pronto. The problem with _plane shift_ is that you have to be touching people in a circle - difficult when everyone is riding at full speed and spread over 60 ft.



> I'm still a little perplexed as to the group's plans on the plane.




As were they. It was more out of desperation - and the hope of finding a more substantive means of assailing Graz'zt.



> Are you familiar with the Albigensian (sp?) heresy that occurred in what is now southern France in the 1200's?... Have you ever examined this particular chapter in history and, if so, has it inspired you in you work on this particular campaign?




Yep - Cathars (& Bogomils & Manichaeans) could be compared with the Irrenites and/or Urgic Mystics at a stretch. It's that 'ole Gnostic thang...

_Saizhan_ owes more to the Buddhist philosophy of Madhyamika, tho - with a bit of Zen thrown in for good measure.



> Yes! One question - Do the characters fear death anymore?




More on this later...



> Is there any place where all of your rules materials is archived, Sepulchrave, or at least a place where I cuold find links to all of it?




In a big heap of paper next to my desk at home. Unfortunately not online, though. Sorry 

[random] BTW, Anabstercorian, I had always read your handle as _an-a-bas-ter-cor-i-an_ - I just noticed that I was adding an extra 'a.' Strange how the mind fills in extra syllables sometimes. [/random]


----------



## Spatula

*A Lot of Questions*

I am curious as to how a character's view of the cosmos affects their situation in the afterlife (if at all), and how they deal with resurrection and reincarnate magics.  It sounds like Shomei ended up in one of the hells, which fits since she seems to generally subscribe to the Oronthun view of the universe, and she's not one of the faithful so she can't enter heaven.  Or was her torment the result of one of her infernal deals?  Where did Ortwin go when he died?

Oronthun appears to disapprove of resurrection.  The faithful that find their way to heaven wouldn't consent to being called back, and to resurrect those that have gone to hell would be to deprive them of their just punishment.  Would Oronthun allow one of his clerics to resurrect a pagan, though?  Does "the Green" get a say in who gets reincarnated, or is the will of the Green basically up to each individual druid?


----------



## William Ronald

Sepulchrave,

A very interesting update.  I hope that Mostin has some contact with any cultures on the other side of the ocean from Wyre.  It would let us see more of your world.

I am curious about Nadholuridin, the beech tree.  Trees figure prominently in the beliefs of many different cultures.  Is this tree anything like the Yggdrasil, the World Ash Tree?  (Norse cultural reference.)  I seem also to recall a similar tree among the ancient Germans refered to as Irminsul.  Is there any significance to Tramst meeting Eadric in front of Nadholuridin? Or am I maybe reading too much into this?


----------



## Jeremy

Darklone said:
			
		

> *First rule for D&D players: Never hesitate. Do SOMETHING. *




And increasingly more important to follow the higher levels you get.  Decisiveness, even the decision to be decisively defensive and patient it critical.  Do offense, do defense, do observe, do plan.  Do not ponder which to do or your enemies will make you pay for your indecision.


----------



## Dougal DeKree

*Sep's rules...*



			
				Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> *
> quote:
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> Is there any place where all of your rules materials is archived, Sepulchrave, or at least a place where I cuold find links to all of it?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> In a big heap of paper next to my desk at home. Unfortunately not online, though. Sorry *




Oh, that would be most interesting I'd wager...is there any chance of you making it available online?!

Dougal


----------



## tleilaxu

brand new thread! i expected a much longer delay from your previous warning. happily, i was surprised! the party should make sure to protect Nwm, as he is the only one who can resurrect people! If he gets disintegrated or imploded that would really suck!

Good thing Eadric kept that mithril breastplate, perhaps Ortwin finds it more attractive now that he has no gear.


----------



## tleilaxu

This is the best part of the post, IMHO

"These demons are crazy, Mostin thought."

Mostin says the _demons_ are crazy for following him through a reality maelstrom which he lept through! Gotta say, he roleplays the moments of insane decision-making very well...


----------



## Plane Sailing

Good stuff, Sep.

I see that when PC's can easily resurrect or true reincarnate the ante has to be upped by the presence of Epic death spells such as the two you describe. I imagine that the players would be shocked to lose someone to one of those and then find that they *can't* be simply brought back by a spell the next morning!

Cheers


----------



## Dakkareth

Now that was a fight ... Titivilus offering help in the middle of the combat - pure Evil 

And ... "You _really_ owe me." - priceless.

Epic fights, epic story and epic story-writing - what more can you ask for?



-Dakkareth

Edit:
You say, that you're stretching the rules with that spell ... shouldn't for a permanent warding the x5 factor be included? 

I (seem to) recall, that one of the seeds sometimes has the duration instantenous and that the shortest duration is used, hence the 'instantenous' in the spell, but still it seems really stretched - like using an energy and fortify seed together making a stat increase instantenous and thus undispellable cheaply. As a suggestion one could either use the permanent factor only on the warding part (also not quite rules conform, but it makes sense imo) or simply increase the duration of the ward to a few (hundred) years ... 

Also one could argue, that the ward seed would have to be used once per part, but that's a technicality

Edit2: 
Also one would have to keep in mind, that with the possibility to _commune_ the warding doesn't help that much - divine magic penetrates lower grade epic wards easily.

Also be not insulted, that I comment more on the spell than on the story, it's just, that systems of magic are one of my obsessions


----------



## Raphael

Whew!  It is good to see what it is like for the PCs to be on the other end of the s***storm. 

Interestingly, while the PCs still see this as a humiliating loss,  those of us with 3rd-person sight can interpret this as accomplishing their (nebulous) goals on this plane.

Now Graz'zt has lost a powerful ally (Irknaan), and has lost most of his influence in this plane to another faction.  They even temporarily gained an unlikely (and duplicitous) "ally" in Soneillon, although she is probably done with them now that she aided the locals.

Of course there are still some repercussions to be survived, as the remaining locals try to exact retribution...


----------



## porthos

*Minor suggestion*

Just a thought, it would be nice for new readers to have links to the previous threads at the top of the first post.

Great writing as always, Sep. Thanks.

<aside>Oh, "minor suggestion". Sounds like the name of an entirely useless spell... </aside>


----------



## Hashmalum

> Shattersoul
> 
> Transmutation
> Spellcraft DC: 38
> Components: V, S
> Casting Time: 1 action
> Range: 300 ft.
> Target: One creature
> Duration: Instantaneous
> Saving Throw: Fortitude negates
> Spell Resistance: Yes



Wow, and I thought my _epic imprisonment_ spell that I posted in House Rules a while back was mean (currently under revision, as I'm making an actual _genesis_ seed to use rather than an ad hoc factor)... OTOH, this one seems rather hard to undo even by the caster, which I'm sure is the idea. Out of curiosity, what kind of DC would you assign to a spell that erased a creature's soul entirely with a single casting?


----------



## Sepulchrave II

> Is there any significance to Tramst meeting Eadric in front of Nadholuridin? Or am I maybe reading too much into this?




The feys have names for all the trees in their area where they live. Nadholuridin is a beech-tree. I'm sure the local sprites would consider it very significant. 


Other questions might be answered in this post. Er... indirectly. Maybe. 


*Much Talk and Little Action*



The _Sela_ and the _Ahma_ sat beneath the beech-tree Nadholuridin deep within the Forest of Nizkur. Moonlight illuminated them both.

"Will you return?" Tramst asked. His question was simple and direct, and conveyed no sense of judgment.

"I don’t know," Eadric replied. 

"If you had died, would you have allowed Nwm the Preceptor to recall you?" The _Sela_’s question cut to the quick of another concern which had been nagging the Paladin. He had no doubt that Nwm would have _reincarnated_ both Ortwin and Shomei: an act which – according to Orthodoxy, at least – verged on necromancy of the most dubious kind.

"I don’t know," Eadric replied honestly. "I am tired of continually weighing the means against the ends, and guessing which is the greater good, or the lesser evil."

"Such is the weight of responsibility," Tramst smiled.

"Before the assault, Titivilus issued me a _sending_. What was its purpose?"

"Devils seldom have uncomplicated reasons for their actions," the _Sela_ said cryptically.

"He offered to act as an arbiter – although for what dispute, I cannot guess."

Tramst said nothing.

Eadric considered for a moment, before asking a different question altogether. "I am curious as to your actions regarding the feys here. They seemed to regard you in a favourable light."

"I gave them honey-cake, and firewine, and a mechanical clock," Tramst explained. "I also asked their permission to visit you here."

"But that was not necessary. You are the _Sela_."

"It was, nonetheless, polite," Tramst replied.

"But had you said nothing, and merely appeared to me, they would never have known of your presence – or mine."

"That is likely," the _Sela_ nodded.

Eadric scowled. There was a paradox there somewhere, and a lesson to be learned from it.
"May I ask a philosophical question?" The Paladin ventured.

The _Sela_’s eyes twinkled. "If you really must," he answered.

"Titivilus comprehends the dialectic which underpins the transmetaphysic of _saizhan_. Can he be said to possess insight? Or is compassion a necessary precursor to actualizing _saizhan_?"

"Your question is flawed, as it presupposes a difference between insight and compassion."

"They are identical?"

"I will answer that with the standard fourfold negation.*"

Eadric laughed loudly – a sound that he realized had passed his lips too infrequently of late.

"Something is amusing?" Tramst asked.

"Forgive me, _Sela_, but getting a straight answer from you is harder than pulling teeth from a horse."

"This has been pointed out to me," Tramst nodded. 

Eadric was silent for a moment, before asking another question. "Was there a specific reason that you chose to meet me now?"

"Merely to inform you that your actions have had consequences which you did not foresee. You do not exist in a vacuum."

"Is that a warning?"

"In a manner of speaking." Tramst replied. "Have you determined yet the purpose of your visit to Afqithan?"

"Not entirely," Eadric confessed. "But without other positive options, it seemed the obvious thing to do. What consequences do you refer to, _Sela_?"

"The challenging of Graz’zt’s hegemony in the realm."

"I do not understand."

"Irknaan is dead, Eadric. And even before he died, he wavered. There will be much uncertainty as a new Queen asserts her dominion."

The Paladin looked astonished. "Did Mostin kill him?"

"No. Irknaan was slain by the demoness Soneillon, around two hours ago."

_The void_, Eadric immediately knew. "She was Graz’zt’s concubine. We had considered Throile as a possible target. And she is now Queen there?"

"No. Soneillon has no interest in Afqithan – other than as a stick with which to taunt Graz’zt. She has a great interest in _you_, however. She perceives you as a vehicle through which Graz’zt’s downfall may be accomplished."

Eadric shifted uncomfortably.

"If you were to ally yourself to her," Tramst continued, "then no doubt it could be accomplished."

"Are you recommending this course of action, _Sela_?" Eadric inquired uneasily.

"By no means," Tramst answered. "I am merely informing you of things as they are. You have condemned Graz’zt to death. You have vowed to release Nehael. You are dispensing Oronthon’s justice – _my_ justice, if you will – as you have determined appropriate and necessary. You may have to confront this choice."

The Paladin clenched his jaw in frustration.

"Do you resent the lack of direction that I offer you, Eadric?" The _Sela_ asked.

Eadric hesitated. 

Tramst struck him soundly in the face. "You cannot offend me with what you feel, _Ahma_."

"I apologize," Eadric said, nodding. His lip bled freely.

After a period of silence, the Paladin spoke again. "The Queen of whom you spoke – is it Nhura, or one of Soneillon’s puppets?"

"I think that is not yet settled," Tramst responded. "There are several candidates. Nhura bears the title for the meantime." He stretched, and abruptly changed the topic. "You are not the only reason I am here, Eadric. Another is due to arrive in a few hours. Which leaves us time to make some corrections."

Eadric looked quizzical.

"_Ahma_, your meditation posture is terrible."

"Ahh," Eadric said.


**


Mostin sat wrapped in his _robe of eyes_ by a small fire near Nwm’s glade in the warm sunlight. He sneezed. 

By the time that Shomei and the Druid had _wind walked_ to her mansion, and the Infernalist had consulted her books and _teleported_ to the Alienist’s location, Mostin’s _fly_ spell had long since expired. He had been floating in the water, disconsolate, and drained of magic to an extent that he hadn’t experienced in years.

"You should’ve asked the Marid to deposit you in a less inconvenient place," Ortwin observed whilst toasting a thick slice of bread.

"It was not the first thing on my mind," Mostin grumbled. "And I think you should put some clothes on. Your naked caprine form is less than agreeable to my current sensibilities. At least throw a cloak over yourself."

Ortwin’s hand suffered a brief spasm, and he dropped his toast into the fire. 

"I have to get my gear back," the Satyr wailed.

"That could prove difficult," Nwm said dryly. "As without your gear, it will not be easy to retrieve your gear, so to speak."

"And my dowry," Ortwin whined.

"_Our_ dowry," Iua sighed. "Mostin, we have Shupthul’s weapon – can you transform it into a scimitar?"

"I suppose so," the Alienist replied. "If we go back, we need to carefully consider our tactics, however. They were less than successful. I would guess that we are outmatched by two to one at least in spellpower. There isn’t even any opportunity to close and engage with them in combat. But we _can_ do this – given the chance to prepare. I am thinking that the strategic use of _antimagic_ may be the answer. In which case, _no_ weapon which is dweomered would be useful – and a _polymorphed_ weapon would be worse than useless."

"To willingly have my spellcasting stymied thus is a daunting prospect," Nwm said sceptically. "I’m hardly an expert combatant."

"I am talking of the _skillful_ use of antimagic, not a wholesale or blanket application," Mostin chided. "And I think that you would be better off unhindered. I had much time to consider this during my sojourn in the Eastern Ocean – watching fish becomes rather tedious after a while. One of us – either Shomei or I – would effectively act as a mobile protection device. We would be vulnerable to physical assault – all wards would be nonfunctioning. But this is somehow preferable to multiple _greater dispellings, horrid wiltings, destructions_ and _power words_. Nwm and the other mage would remain outside of the field – and warded to a truly absurd degree – bear in mind that whoever was acting as the _antimagic_ focus would have plenty of protective spells to lavish on those outside of the field."

"We have yet to witness the Loquai in physical combat," Nwm pointed out. "How effective are they likely to be?"

"If they are like the sidhe in general, then probably very adept. Also, probably _no_ match for Eadric, Ortwin or I," Iua grinned. "I like this plan, Mostin."

"I advocate a full assault," the Alienist announced. Buoyed by Iua’s support, he was beginning to get carried away. "We _scry_ Irknaan’s castle, _summon, bind_ and _gate_ a veritable army of extraplanar help. We use the Mirror to access a point outside of the stronghold. I blow a hole in the wall with a _great shout_, send in the footsoldiers, and erect an _antimagic field_. We charge in, kill everything inside, and it’s all over with."

Ortwin turned to look at Nwm, and raised his eyebrows.

The Druid shrugged. "Why not? Hell, we’ve tried subtlety and guile. We’ve tried a magical confrontation. What’s left?"


**


It was mid morning. Tramst clicked his fingers and pointed at the sensor.

"I do not see it," Eadric sighed.

"It requires considerable practice. It is there, however."

Seconds later, there was a displacement of air, and a single figure arrived. Eadric’s mind suffered a cognitive dissonance as Shomei manifested. The Eye of Palamabron showed her true body – a youthful and fair-skinned woman – whereas his own eyesight revealed the figure that he was familiar with. As always, she bore her rod.

Suspiciously, the Infernalist looked at Tramst and readied a spell. "Who are you? Why did I not perceive you?" Shomei’s _arcane sight_ began to scrutinize the _Sela_’s form.

Eadric was about to say something, but Tramst raised his hand in a gesture which said _let her continue_.

"You are Oronthon’s Proxy," Shomei said presently. Her head was spinning, and her heart was pounding hard within her chest. Her calm façade seemed stretched and shaky. She erected a _mind blank_ almost instinctively.

"You are correct," Tramst smiled.

"Your form is disarmingly unprepossessing," Shomei continued, regaining her composure somewhat.

"Would you prefer my _ahmasaljan_**?" The _Sela_ inquired. 

"NO!" Shomei said unequivocally.

"You fear me."

"I mistrust what you represent," the Infernalist replied.

"I think you misunderstand what I represent," Tramst countered.

"I do not seek redemption, whether you dress it in dialectic clothes or no."

"I do not offer it," the _Sela_ said easily. "You are an Infernalist. I attach no moral significance to your chosen path. I can help you perfect your technique. Hone your spirit. Discipline your Will."

"Your attempt at expediency does not move me."

"Shomei," Tramst smiled, "if I were to be truly expedient with you, do you think you would know it?"***

"I don’t know. Would _you_ know it?" Shomei replied wrily.

"_Saizho_," the _Sela_ said, bowing.

"You bastard," Shomei sighed, as reality shifted.  

"Your contract with Zhorion is fulfilled," Tramst pointed out.

Shomei cocked her head. "I neither sought you out, nor have I received instruction."

"You have demonstrated the Truth to yourself. What else can I teach you?"

The Infernalist gaped. "That is absurd. Nothing is that easy."

Tramst smiled sadly. "Yes, Shomei. It is that easy. Have you already forgotten, although it was only seconds ago? It will elude you as you reach out to grasp it again. And therein lies the tragedy."

Shomei swallowed, and scowled.

Tramst reached down, and picked a buttercup from near the base of the beech-tree. He pressed it into the palm of her hand.

Her world shattered into a billion fragments and reformed in an instant. 

"You are not what I expected," she said.


Eadric wondered why it was that, for him, the _Sela_ had made things so difficult, but for Shomei – who consorted with the unholiest of creatures – he had freely offered bliss and a vision of the Absolute.

He experienced a moment of impossible irony. 


**


Nufrut’s disembodied face squinted at Eadric and Mostin from inside her transparent adamantine prison. The Eye of Palamabron illuminated her.

"I require information regarding the demoness Soneillon," Eadric stated.

"Mendacity would be pointless," Mostin added smugly.

"What do you wish to know?" Nufrut sighed.

"Her power relative to the Prince of Azzagrat," Mostin began, "both personal, and with regard to their respective subjects and thralls. The disposition of her servants in Throile. Her _modi operandorum_. Her motivations – beyond merely irking her former consort. Possible weaknesses which may be exploited. And her ontological status, which is a matter of some interest to me personally – from a purely academic perspective."

"This may take some while," Nufrut grumbled.

"Be as swift as you may," Eadric said acidly.

"Power is a difficult thing to measure when one speaks of Abyssal dignitaries," Nufrut replied. "Absolutes are impossible to determine."

"Is she always this forthcoming?" Eadric asked Mostin, drily.

"Invariably," Mostin nodded.

"Perhaps we should make a translation to the vestibule of Oronthon’s Heaven," Eadric suggested. "The Archons might have an easier time of persuading her to talk."

Mostin shook his head. "That is a journey I would prefer not to undertake. I can easily open a _gate_ to allow you access, however."

"That will not be necessary," Nufrut interrupted. "I will try to formulate answers which are meaningful to your limited mortal perspectives."

"That is all we require," Eadric smiled. "Proceed."

"Soneillon’s sorcerous power is, in some regards, greater than that of Graz’zt," Nufrut reluctantly admitted.

Mostin inhaled sharply. "I think that statement requires some explanation."

"She is touched by infinite nothingness," Nufrut snapped. The subject was one which evidently disturbed even her. "She is Demogorgon’s spawn. A scion of Cheshne. She has entered oblivion, and returned from it." 

Eadric blanched. The name of the Ancient was anathema. A taboo which none violated.

"I am speaking figuratively, of course," Nufrut added. "The wellspring of her power has no bounds – it is limited only by her own capacity to understand it."

"That is impossible," Mostin grunted.

"As you wish," Nufrut replied.

"Do not patronize me, Nufrut. Certain laws are inviolable within the bounded cosmos."

"If so, then this is not one of them," Nufrut said caustically. 

"She does not lie," Eadric sighed.

"And it is borne out by your suspicions regarding her partial nonexistence," Nufrut continued. "I assume that was the reason for your inquiry about her ontic status?"

Mostin nodded wrily.

"I am somewhat confused," Eadric admitted.

"Soneillon has been to the bottom of the Abyss, and returned," Mostin explained. "She has tasted unbeing."

"The Abyss has no bottom, Mostin."

"My point exactly," Mostin replied.

"Hmph!" Eadric turned his attention back to the Demoness. "Please continue, Nufrut."

"Soneillon maintains few servants of any power – most of her closest attendants are succubi, and a handful of these are favoured and have learned sorcery from her."

"Such as the other who assailed us?" Mostin asked.

"As I was secure within your _portable hole_, I cannot answer this question with certainty."

"Names," Mostin demanded.

"Adyell, Helitihai, Orychne, Chaya," Nufrut replied. "Others of less note. No doubt also others, who are wholly unknown."

"I was struck by a _power word, stun_ and a violated sonic _acid storm_," Mostin explained. "Who might that be?"

"Probably none of those four," Nufrut smiled wickedly.

"You are most vexatious," Mostin said irritably. "Would you care to speculate who might have access to such spells?"

"Many of Soneillon’s former protegés have found positions in the courts of other demonic nobles. Many have also managed to keep their tutelage under her secret. It is hard to say."

"There was another demon who, like her, existed on the threshold on nonbeing. Who was that?"

"I do not know," Nufrut scowled. "There are others who have descended, and returned, but most of their names are not known to me."

"But some are," Mostin pointed out. "Be so kind as to share those you _do_ know."

"I am loath to speak their names," Nufrut groaned.

"And I am anxious to hear them!" Mostin retorted. "And a brief description, if you please."

"Seven only are known to me."

"Speak!" The Alienist demanded.

So Nufrut spat their names out: _Saduch_ and _Tavael_ – shadow demons; _Xanoriz_ – a glabrezu; _Tiqa_ – a succubus, like Soneillon herself, but of less power than the Mistress of Throile; _Iarathym_ – a babau; _Arhuz_ – a nalfeshnee of tremendous power, who dwelt five hundred circles from Azzagrat in a palace of slime; and _Carasch_.

"Carasch?" Mostin inquired.

"A balor. Once. Perhaps a deva before that? Who can remember that far back anymore?" There was a hint of melancholy in her voice.

"Could it be him?" The Alienist asked nervously.

Nufrut laughed harshly. "You fool! Carasch, subordinate himself to any other? How little you know, Mostin. Graz’zt and all his minions would flee before him. Yea, _Ahma_, maybe even Enitharmon himself would think twice before challenging him. No, Mostin, it was not Carasch – or you would all be dead, and Afqithan itself might be no more."

Mostin sniffed. "I find it hard to believe that an entity of such power exists and I have never heard of him."

"You know _nothing_," Nufrut sneered. "And I know but little in comparison to others," she added wrily. "Soneillon herself is well versed in the nature and disposition of more exotic Abyssal denizens. Pazuzu knows more than any other…"

"Return to the topic at hand if you would," Eadric interjected. "We do not have time for your random musings, Nufrut, although no doubt they are interesting."

"Soneillon is a dreamer, and a seductress without peer," the Demoness continued. "Her schemes and motivations are as impenetrable as the darkness which surrounds her when she wills it – no, Mostin, I do not dissemble. She is most enigmatic." 

"And weaknesses?" Eadric inquired.

"None that I know of," Nufrut answered. "But if she has marked you, _Ahma_, then your life is about to become _very_ complicated."

Eadric sighed. As if it wasn’t already. 






*i.e. insight and compassion are neither identical, nor different, nor both identical and different, nor neither identical nor different.

** ‘Spiritual essence,’ ‘indwelling spirit’ or ‘perfect body.’ Normally perceivable only through the divine version of _true seeing_ or similar magic.

***I think I may have touched on this before, but it is quite normal for Ascended Masters – and by extension the _Sela_ – to dispense wisdom according to the understanding of those who hear it. Less enlightened souls might misconstrue this as an economy of truth, or even outright lies.

It is important to clarify exactly what happened in the exchange between Tramst and Shomei, as it is easily misunderstood: 

_Saizho_ means ‘I see’ (not ‘you see’ which is _saizha_ – and may be either present tense or imperative). Tramst is in no way ‘bestowing’ or ‘forcing’ a moment of insight or enlightenment upon Shomei. 

Shomei’s question ‘Would you know it?’ (i.e. would the _teacher_ know if he were being expedient) stimulates an insight in the _Sela_. According to _Saizhan_, ultimately there is no ‘you’ that knows, and there is no knowing – there is only direct, unmediated experience of the Truth. True expediency cannot be conscious or premeditated, it must arise spontaneously and instinctively.

It is typical of the _Sela_’s teaching style that he will gracefully acknowledge an insight provided by someone else – usually a student – also implying that he, himself still has much to learn in the process. This is, however, a spiritual lesson in itself – doubly so in the case of Shomei: the ‘Adversarial’ philosophy endorsed by Shomei (and Mostin, although in a different way) is based on _infinite becoming_ and perpetual self-transcendence. By accepting an insight provided by Shomei, the _Sela_ implicitly endorses the validity of the Infernalist’s philosophy and pays homage to _her_ holiness and perfection, but at the same time asserts his own spiritual authority.

The paradox which results is a perfect expression of the dialectic of _Saizhan_: Shomei’s mind no longer has anything tangible upon which it can find purchase. Inevitably, she experiences _Saizhan_, but brought about by her own words, not by those of Tramst.

When Shomei  realizes this, she says ‘You bastard.’ It would seem that Shomei has somehow maneuvered herself into a glimpse of the Truth. Thus, Tramst _has_ been expedient, because he has been effective. Moreover, he has done so spontaneously, instinctively and without effort.


----------



## DanMcS

So, tonight, in my game, two of my players fought these nifty zombies that wouldn't die until you took the coin which was animating them out of their mouths.  You could knock them down, they would reanimate in 1d4 rounds.

And I read Sep's update, and I think I ought to either mediate or sleep.  Or perhaps meditate and sleep, or not meditate and not sleep, or something.  Or maybe play a video game with some mindless detonations.

I like that there are demons flitting around that are monstrously powerful, and Mostin has never heard of them, and this disturbs him greatly.  Heh.


----------



## ForceUser

I'm curious to know how much of the NPC interplay is vocalized for the players' benefit, and how much is simply implied and then expanded upon in this story hour. I know that among my group we are much less articulate than this at the gaming table. It would please me to know that you make up most of the dialogue after the fact 

[EDIT: Clarity]


----------



## William Ronald

A very interesting update, Sepulchrave.  I particularly enjo yed the discuss between Shomei and Tramst.  It is also appropriate, as in many beliefs system, some have found enlightenment under a tree.  (The example of the Buddha and the bo tree come to mind.)


----------



## Spatula

They want to go _back_ and take on the whole demiplane??!?!?  I know Mostin's crazy, but the others should really have more sense...


----------



## Lela

Spatula said:
			
		

> *They want to go back and take on the whole demiplane??!?!?  I know Mostin's crazy, but the others should really have more sense... *




But think about how much money was left behind.


----------



## Paka

I always dig it when Eadric get's into spiritual discussions.  That was fun.  Onwards and upwards to the full frontal assault!


----------



## Mytholder

There are, I think, three possible reactions to Sep post:
1) That's freaking cool! I'm so stealing that for my campaign.
2) Holy Eric's Grandmother!
3) My head hurts.

This is very much number 3.


----------



## Celtavian

*re*

It would not surprise me at all of Nehael were Sonellion and this was indeed a plot to bring about the downfall of Graz'zt from the beginning. If this is the case, I will be seriously awed by the incredible way Sepulchrave is developing the story.

Now that Doc's story hour has wrapped up, I have decided to start reading this one. Now I need to get one of the folks here to send me a copy and read it from the beginning.


----------



## Greybar

If Nahael == Soneillon, wouldn't the Eye of Palamabron have revealed this?  Granted, she is potentially one of the beings possible of defying such magic.

... would be a nice circle though ...

John
p.s. definitely #3


----------



## Inez Hull

> According to Saizhan, ultimately there is no ‘you’ that knows, and there is no knowing – there is only direct, unmediated experience of the Truth.




This sounds closer to Nwm's beliefs than Oronthanism. It will be interesting to see how Saizhan influences religious life in Wyre to say the least. 

I realise that D&D alignments are farcically inadequete when discussing a religious and philosphical system as detailed as you have for your setting, but what result does the new Orthodoxy have on the alignment of Oronthan?


----------



## tleilaxu

excellent sep! can't wait for the next one. i like the allusion to the bottom of the abyss. imc campaign the far realm is at the bottom of the abyss (also at the centre of limbo, the end and beginning of time, between the stars, etc). 

i also like the mention of demogorgon, someone who has been mentioned several times but always with revulsion (even by demons) and utmost mystery. always good to keep a few cards under the table.


----------



## Dakkareth

Spatula said:
			
		

> *They want to go back and take on the whole demiplane??!?!?  I know Mostin's crazy, but the others should really have more sense... *




Although the characters don't know it, seeing, that Nhura and Crosod are on their way to the prime, this is probably the safest thing to do 

And:




> _Originally posted by Lela_
> *Way cool.*
> 
> 
> 
> 
> x2
Click to expand...



x3


----------



## Velenne

Oh for the love of Eric's grandma, Sep, _would you hurry up and *WRITE BOOKS?!*_

I don't know how much I'd be willing to pay, but it would be whole heck of a lot.  Something I can tuck under my arm, hole myself up with in a cellar next to some very tall candles, and read until I'm long in the beard and weak in the eyes.


----------



## Rackhir

*Re: re*



			
				Celtavian said:
			
		

> *It would not surprise me at all of Nehael were Sonellion and this was indeed a plot to bring about the downfall of Graz'zt from the beginning. If this is the case, I will be seriously awed by the incredible way Sepulchrave is developing the story.*




It's not inconceivable, but it would seem either unlikely or a later idea that was added on. Since the origin of the whole saga was Sepulchrave asking if Lady Despina's "redemption" should be real. Also I think there are some "mechanical" details that would argue against it, in terms of how Nehael has operated and the things that have affected her.


----------



## Avarice

Darklone said:
			
		

> *Soneillon = Nehael?  *




To which Sep would probably reply that Soneillon is not Nehael, nor is she not _not_ Nehael, nor is she Nehael and not Nehael, nor is she neither Nehael and not Nehael.  Then my head would implode.   _Saizho._  



> _Originally posted by Lela_
> *Way cool.*




X4



edit: evil, evil typos.


----------



## Raphael

Avarice said:
			
		

> *
> 
> To which Sep would probably reply that Soneillon is not Nehael, nor is she not not Nehael, nor is she Nehael and not Nehael, nor is she neither Nehael and not Nehael.
> 
> *




To which Tramst would be forced to reply (to Eadric) "...but so are you"  


A monotheistic view of the creation of the multiverse is so simple and yet complex.   
-     -r


----------



## grodog

Sep---

I'm back to torment you with questions, quasit-like!  I was in the middle of posting last night, but my wife asked if I would read Harry Potter to her, so I logged off just before you posted the new update.  A very pleasant surprise this morning!  I love the most recent updates, though I am quite surprised at our heroes' apparent lack of direction, purpose, and their gross negligence in strategic planning....  It's good to see that Tramst is as least nominally pointing that out to Eadric.  



> "If you have concerns that the Ahma might be dead," Nhura said, "you should put them aside. The sidhe who was disintegrated was not him – the sword of Eadric of Deorham is Lukarn, not Githla. I can deliver him to you. Demons are forbidden by the Interdict, but the Loquai are not. And neither is he," she pointed.
> 
> Crosod circled suspiciously at a distance of a thousand yards.




Now, per the Interdict, aren't outsiders prevented from entering Wyre?  As a half-fiend/half-dragon, Chosod is an outsider (per his Rogues' Gallery entry at least).  Does Nhura know of a way to circumvent this rule, or are half-fiends loopholes, or am I just misunderstanding how the Interdict functions?

Also, don't think that I didn't notice this little tidbit:



> Soneillon spoke two dreadful words which echoed across Afqithan. The outer shell of the prismatic sphere quivered in sympathetic vibration, as the magical lattice of the demiplane was stretched closer to its dilational limit.




So, epic magic can impact demiplanes through its usage?  That seems to further emphasize (to me anyway) the difference between a demiplane/alternate PMP and Wyre as the real PMP.   Would epic spells create similar aftershocks within Wyre itself?

I'm really enjoying the additional detailing of Demogorgon and Soneillon and the bottom of the abyss (which is where I have always located Fraz'Urb'luu's home plane IMC).

Also:  



> "Before the assault, Titivilus issued me a sending. What was its purpose?"
> 
> "Devils seldom have uncomplicated reasons for their actions," the Sela said cryptically.
> 
> "He offered to act as an arbiter – although for what dispute, I cannot guess."




FWIW, my understanding of Titivilus' offer was that Eadric needed arbitration to get out of the situation he had gotten into:  Titivilus would act as his liaison to Irknaan.  That offer alone should have helped convince Eadric that they were in way over their heads....

Ironically, with Irknaan's fall, Eadric et al did, essentially, achieve their (vague) purpose:  Graz'zt's control within Afqithan has been reduced, if not lost, and he has lost yet another powerful servant (though perhaps not as loyal as his Type VI demons were....).

Lastly, Tramst mentioned a mechanical clock as a gift to the feys.  What is Wyre's approximate technology level?  That seems more advanced than I had been imagining.  

Thanks again for sharing your wonderful writing!


----------



## Lela

Not sure on the other stuff but, for the first question, remember the half-demon way back who tried to kill Motsin.  She had cloned herself and was bent on revenge (only came upon Motsin by accident).  She, under Grazz'it's orders, was able to enter the Material Plane without trouble.

It would seem that creating (and controling) as many Half-Fiends as possible is a great asset to any outsider lord.  Succubi are more valuable than they seem.


----------



## Dakkareth

Jovol's epic magic is supposed to hinder the calling of extraplanars. Voluntary entering of the prime by celestial or infernal beings is subject to the informal agreement between Heaven and Hell.

Third parties should have no problems of any kind and as they are from faerie even less so.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

I'll try and address some questions quickly - I should go to work at some point, though  



> I'm curious to know how much of the NPC interplay is vocalized for the players' benefit,




Some, but not all. A lot is filled in afterwards.



> It is also appropriate, as in many beliefs system, some have found enlightenment under a tree.




This wasn't intentional - in fact I didn't realize the connection until you pointed it out to me! Archetypes tend to have a habit of popping up even if you don't mean them to.




> I realise that D&D alignments are farcically inadequete when discussing a religious and philosphical system as detailed as you have for your setting, but what result does the new Orthodoxy have on the alignment of Oronthan?




Good question! I'm not sure I can answer it, other than to say that in Tramst's stat block, his alignment is listed as 'special.'



> Now, per the Interdict, aren't outsiders prevented from entering Wyre?




The Celestial Interdict prevents demons, devils - the 'fallen' - from entering the Prime without help: i.e. conjuration or summoning. Arch-fiends can circumvent it to a certain extent - presumably with Oronthon's permission/knowledge. 



> quote:
> ------------------------------------------------------------------------
> Soneillon spoke two dreadful words which echoed across Afqithan. The outer shell of the prismatic sphere quivered in sympathetic vibration, as the magical lattice of the demiplane was stretched closer to its dilational limit.
> ------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> So, epic magic can impact demiplanes through its usage? That seems to further emphasize (to me anyway) the difference between a demiplane/alternate PMP and Wyre as the real PMP. Would epic spells create similar aftershocks within Wyre itself?





I had a long discussion with Dan about this. He compared it to dropping a stone into a bucket of water, as opposed to dropping a stone in an ocean. In a finite, bounded space such as Afqithan (albeit, a reticulated, non-Euclidian one) the effect of magic on the fabric of reality is more pronounced. If one were to apply a kind of pseudo-science to it, then it would be possible to say that - vibrationally - Afqithan is already very highly strung. Magic is everywhere. 

_Enough_ magic might make it 'snap' altogether - forcing it to dissolve, rejoin with Faerie, be sucked into the Plane of Shadow etc. Note that we are talking a _lot_ of magic here -  epic spells with a DC in the 10s of thousands, maybe.

A finite space can dilate to accomodate magical effects, and then return to its natural vibrational state. 




> Lastly, Tramst mentioned a mechanical clock as a gift to the feys. What is Wyre's approximate technology level? That seems more advanced than I had been imagining.




Largely early Renaissance, with a few quirks thrown in.


----------



## Enkhidu

Darklone said:
			
		

> *Soneillon = Nehael?  *




I believe the proper way to say this, within the bounds of the search for _Saizhan_, is to say:

Soneillon is not not Nehael.


----------



## Joshua Randall

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> [...] In a finite, bounded space such as Afqithan (albeit, a reticulated, non-Euclidian one) the effect of magic on the fabric of reality is more pronounced. If one were to apply a kind of pseudo-science to it, then it would be possible to say that - vibrationally - Afqithan is already very highly strung. Magic is everywhere.
> 
> _Enough_ magic might make it 'snap' altogether - forcing it to dissolve, rejoin with Faerie, be sucked into the Plane of Shadow etc. [...]



There is an intriguing similarity between this idea and one that occurs at the climax of module I12, Egg of the Phoenix, wherein the PCs battle the Elemental Princes in the "pocket plane" of Sepulchre (*!*). If either the heroes or the villains use too much magical energy (counted by spell levels) during the battle... *BOOM*

There is a little bit more information about I12 at The Acaeum.


----------



## Inez Hull

> Good question! I'm not sure I can answer it, other than to say that in Tramst's stat block, his alignment is listed as 'special.'




What is the meaning of Saizhan then, is it a change in how Oronthan's nature is to be understood by the faithful, or a change in Oronthan himself? Also what happens to the dualistic elements of the old orthodoxy - presumably Eadric can still detect and smite evil, how does this fit with the mysticism of Saizhan?


----------



## ForceUser

Inez Hull said:
			
		

> *
> 
> What is the meaning of Saizhan then, is it a change in how Oronthan's nature is to be understood by the faithful, or a change in Oronthan himself? Also what happens to the dualistic elements of the old orthodoxy - presumably Eadric can still detect and smite evil, how does this fit with the mysticism of Saizhan? *



I have a limited understanding of such things, but I was under the impression that Saizhan existed to allow for different points of view within Oronthanism.


----------



## Broccli_Head

Subscribe...


----------



## Felix

I was reading through the whole saga, again, and I realized something. Perhaps it's been noted before, but I'll feel special by posting it anyway.

Remember when Nwm was looking for Hullu? He talked to one Tunthi sage who said "I asked my grandfather if your Green was my Green, or if they were different. He said they were neither the same, nor different, nor both, nor neither."

Kinda like Tramst's "Standard fourfold negation, eh?" So is the Green, the Tunthi grandfathers, Oronthon, et al, all the same being? Or do they just have the same opaque way of explaining things?


----------



## MTR

Felix,
All of them are not the same, nor different, nor both, nor neither  
Personally, if I was invited to join this campaign I'd play somebody with no interest in religion.  The headaches would be too much.

Edit:
Or at least somebody with no interest in clarity in religion


----------



## Ryan Koppenhaver

I think I can handle 4 megs.  Could you add rlkoppenhaver at ameritech dot net to the next batch you send, pretty please?


----------



## Dantalian

I am stepping out of the shadows to add my voice to the volumes of praise heaped upon this story hour.  Words cannot begin to describe the breathtaking vision that birthed the world of Wyre.  Sep, I am in unabashed awe of your storytelling prowess.

Grodog, would you mind adding me to the list of those requesting your emailed compilations?

robbie.bryant@pcfcorp.com


----------



## Talix

Never have I enjoyed something that made my head hurt, so much.  

I love the interaction between Shomei and Tramst - I hope we get to see more of that in the future.


----------



## Sejs

> Soneillon is not not Nehael.



Soneillon is not undisparate from Nehael?



> What is the meaning of Saizhan then, is it a change in how Oronthan's nature is to be understood by the faithful, or a change in Oronthan himself?



 I think the idea is that Oronthan in essence _doesn't_ change, and has no need -to- change.  He is all things, and always has been.  It's just that in the past, our perception of him was limited.  Saizhan serves to help remove this self-imposed limitation we have in our perception of the divine.  

We're the ones changing.  We're the ones that are infinitely becoming.



> Also what happens to the dualistic elements of the old orthodoxy - presumably Eadric can still detect and smite evil, how does this fit with the mysticism of Saizhan?



  They'd still be there, as Eadric is still a paladin according to his stat block.  Before, the Oronthanian orthodoxy was made of it's dualistic components.  Now, the faith has been expanded, and isn't _just_ comprised of the older dualistic elements - it's comprised of the older dualistic elements _also_.  The cup has become bigger.




> My brain hurts.



Agreed, heh.  But it's the most satisfying headache I've had in a long, long time.

^_^

Edit: heh, oops.  small clean up there.


----------



## Lela

With the time differences across the planes, perhaps Shomie is Soneillon during that brief time she was dead. . .


----------



## Sejs

In all honesty, I don't really think Sonellion is Nehael.  There'd be more than a few inconsistancies if that were the case.



...besides, then we wouldn't be able to love Nehael as much.

^_^


----------



## Sepulchrave II

This is a very long post, and I hope it makes sense. I have actually cut out some stuff. At some future point - hopefully sooner rather than later - I will post the mechanics of the singular item which is the focus of this installment. Suffice to say, for the time being, that to derive information from it requires various Knowledge (Arcana) checks with absurdly high DCs, and that a mage can 'take 20' on these checks.


[Edit - make that 2 posts. I can't fit it all in one.  ]

Soo...



****



*The Web of Motes*


After Mostin and Eadric had quizzed Nufrut, the Paladin related the news conveyed to him by Tramst in full. A bitter argument ensued.

"There is no _need_ for us to return," Nwm sighed. "It would serve no purpose. We have – in a roundabout way – succeeded in what we set out to do. Irknaan is dead. The Demon’s precarious hold on the demiplane is compromised. _We have vexed him_. When we initially spoke of this, the plan was to assail him on as many fronts as we could. We should change tack accordingly now."

"My gear remains in Afqithan," Ortwin snapped.

"Forget your gear," Nwm replied unsympathetically. "Live with it – you _are_ alive, if you would notice. Goddess, you’re a selfish bastard, Ortwin."

"But we have already formulated a plan," the Satyr continued, ignoring the insult. "_We can do this. It will work._"

"It would be an unnecessary waste of time and effort," Nwm retorted. "What would we gain? Eadric?"

"I don’t know," Eadric admitted.

"Pah!" Nwm snorted. "This is absurd. Why Afqithan? _What’s the point?_"

"It is some kind of key," Eadric replied.

Nwm looked exasperated. "Why? Have you had some kind of revelation?"

"No."

The Druid closed his eyes, and clenched his fists. "I have humoured you thus far, Eadric, but you need to seriously reappraise. Genuine visions I can accept, but some vague feeling is _not_ sufficient."

"I trust vague feelings more than divinely inspired visions," Mostin said unhelpfully.

"I’m not suggesting that is _the_ key," Eadric said. "But perhaps it is _a_ key. Or perhaps we can turn it into one. There is the _gate_ to Azzagrat…"

"Which opens both ways, I might remind you. And it is periodic – who knows what else has walked through it since we were last there."

"Soneillon." Eadric said again. "She is pivotal – or could be, if we allowed her to be. She lusts after the fall of the Lord of Azzagrat more than anything else."

"Do not presume to understand the motives of demons," Shomei warned. "Especially one such as her. If you use her as a tool – if you use _each other_ I should say – then she will exact a price which may surprise you at a later time."

"Do you then intend to strike a bargain with Soneillon?" Ortwin asked.

"I don’t know. Titivilus offered to act as an arbiter – maybe for this purpose. Perhaps opening some kind of dialogue…"

"For me to regard something as questionable means that it must be _very_ questionable," Ortwin said sardonically. "But I suspect that this is one barrel of maggots that you do _not_ want to open." 

Overcome by a sudden wave of irony, Nwm guffawed. "Eadric of Deorham purposes to compact with a Demon Queen? Ah, the world has changed. And maybe not for the better."

"There is opportunity, here," Eadric replied patiently. "And I am in the unfortunate position of having to decide the least evil."

"Do you have that authority?" Nwm countered. "Or sufficient information?"

"Yes, and no," the Paladin answered with a wry smile. "That is my lot. I am resigned to it. Things will unfold according to Oronthon’s will, irrespective of my actions."

"That is a depressing fatalism," Nwm groaned.

"Not so," Shomei unexpectedly came to Eadric’s defense. "To exert individual will and to submit to destiny need not be mutually exclusive perspectives. This is well established."

"Shomei, your philosophical sophistry is irrelevant to me," Nwm replied. "Your world-view is under assault. You are confused, and your intellect is trying to grasp at dialectical straws."

The Infernalist looked mildly offended, opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, and clamped it shut again.

"Through sustained application of Will, we can force a confluence of events to occur in Afqithan," Mostin nodded. "We cannot control it, however. It may backfire. There are too many variables. We lack Jovol’s prescience."

Shomei raised her eyebrows. "Your euphemism is transparent, Mostin. You are too anxious to unleash the Pseudonatural Horror." 

"I am not _that_ anxious," Mostin said. "Or I would have done so already."

"I still do not understand what this _thing_ is, of which you speak," Eadric sighed. 

"It is the creature which slew Vhorzhe – in all likelihood." Shomei answered. "And probably other adepts who thought they could control it."

"The Horror," Mostin nodded eagerly. "The _gate_. Titivilus. Soneillon. The Prince. The Spell – which I am close to capable of casting."

"Although not alone," Shomei pointed out. "And enlisting a cabal will be far harder than speaking the incantation."

Mostin shrugged. "We are going in circles. I have some possible solutions, if any of you have the stomach to hear them: bear with me before you shoot me down. First, Soneillon: I can _bind_ her, although I doubt I can hold her for long. Second, the _gate_: we can use it, or seal it with a _disjunction_. Third, Mulissu: it may be that she has made progress in interpreting Jovol’s _web of motes_ – it may give us an idea on how to proceed which we have not previously considered. Fourth, the Pseudonatural: I can likewise _bind_ it, and probably not hold it. Fifth, and I am loath to even suggest it: Shomei – or even I, for that matter – could enlist celestial support."

"There will be no cascade in Afqithan," Shomei said simply. "Tramst made that clear to me before I left him – this is no concern of the Host. And I have worries on that count which I haven’t yet voiced: there is no doubt that –  irrespective of Nhura’s current inclinations – news of a celestial presence in the demiplane has already been reported to Graz’zt. Information such as that has a habit of spreading quickly."

"But would he have suspected who caused it?" Eadric asked. 

"Perhaps not," Shomei conceded, "but the Prince is supremely paranoid, as I have said before. News of Irknaan’s death has probably reached him already. Who can guess the loyalty of the other Loquai?"

"We need information," Nwm sighed. "And we need it badly. Things are finely balanced. Factions are forming faster than we can apprehend them. They change before we have a chance to begin to understand them. There is too much flux."

"We are dealing with _demons_ and their allies," Mostin said. "What do you expect? Our own presence has skewed events rapidly."

"Everything in Afqithan seemed relatively stable before we arrived," Nwm said laconically.

"Chaos and inertia have a great deal in common," Shomei smiled.

"Then we should take one more day," Eadric said grimly. "One more day, before we decide to act – and then ten hours or so will have passed in Afqithan since our flight. As Nwm says, we need information – to garner as much as we can. And when we do act, it needs to be _decisive_. No more vacillation. Mostin, you are the Diviner – the onus lies on you. Can you contact Mulissu?"

The Alienist nodded. "I have yet to prepare my spells. But I had determined to make a _metagnostic inquiry_ before anything else. This will involve a translation."

"How long will it take?" The Paladin asked.

"Exactly no time at all," Mostin replied. "I will go to the Far Realm."


**


Beyond the glooms created by an uncounted number of fears – the terrors which lurked in the recesses of human souls, the darkest imaginings of demonic lust, and the nightmares of creatures which bore no shape or name – Soneillon dreamed a dream.

Annihilation, the threat of unbeing, the primeval void in which all meaning ceased, held no mystery for her. She was it, and it was she. From the blank tablet of unmanifest reality, the succubus drew forth a tendril of possibility. Fashioned by her dark spirit – which had, by the dubious virtue of sheer force of will, survived or transcended the insurmountable necessity of ontological cohesion – a shadowy phantasy began to coalesce.

She strove to give it form and meaning, to imbue it with qualities which marked it as real. Madness and meaninglessness flowed away. The numinous slowly subsided, and became the phenomenal. A vision of trees, of sky, of streams, animals, birds and men assumed tangibility. A small castle, with whitewashed walls, ivy-clad and perched upon a rocky knoll.

Paradox rapidly spiralled into infinity, and potentiality shrank to a single point in space and time. The interstices snapped, and unbeing retreated.

Soneillon stood in dappled sunlight, clad in flesh and blood. Nearby, an ancient oak-tree stood. The demoness glanced at Kyrtill’s Burh, erected a ward around herself, and assumed a pleasing form.

Soneillon smiled. She smiled at the hopeless lot of mortals, like pigs who were destined for slaughter. She smiled at the pathos which she perceived in Graz’zt: his interminable wheedling and plotting and conniving for the slightest of transient gains. She smiled at Wyre, and its magical Law, embodied in the Claviger and its servant Gihaahia – in the full knowledge that she herself needed no agent to bring here there and, thus, no infraction had occurred. And she smiled at Oronthon, and the Celestial Host, and their Interdict against the millions that had rebelled before time began.

Once, she had been one of them. But no longer. Her paradigm had shifted. Unreality was hers, and she made her own laws now.


**


The creature interrogated by Mostin was a writhing mass of matter which would have defied all attempts at classification, had the Alienist been inclined to attempt to categorize it. Two things only concerned him: it was of the lower order, and thus unlikely to resist his compulsion, and it was of reasonable intelligence – the latter inferred by Mostin who, _invisible_ and _mind blanked_, had watched it interact with numerous other creatures of less stature than itself.

Transfixed, it swayed eerily beneath the Wizard’s gaze, its pseudopodia stretching and rippling simultaneously through several overlapping dimensions.

Mostin’s question was generic. He sought guidance, not definitive answers.

_Can you enlighten me with regard to the events and possibilities which currently preoccupy me?_

The creature’s consciousness was catapulted into the deepest reaches of madness and euphoria, and a barrage of scenes and feelings flooded into Mostin’s mind as it filtered them to him.

[Image] Graz’zt + [Image] a black tower + [Image] a satyr (or was it Titivilus?) + [Fear] Nothingness + [Image] peasant girl + [Image] a huge bird + [Incomprehensible] void + [Image] Steeple + [Image] dragon + [Image] a dreamscape: the Claviger; Jovol; Soneillon. [Image] the forest perishing + [Smell] acid + [Image] Lukarn + [Image] a million tiny stars + [Image] the Horror + [Fear] the Horror + [Terror] the Horror + [Image] a hundred souls, confined, deranged, screaming and gibbering + [Image] Vhorzhe + [Voice] _saizha_, Mostin?

Mostin quailed, and fled back to the bounded cosmos.


*

"I think that a slightly more structured question may have been in order," Mulissu said sarcastically, as she poured a smoking liquid into a tall, blue flute, and handed it to Mostin. "You might as well have asked ‘Can you please reveal all of my deepest fears to me?’"

The pair sat beneath the pomegranate tree in Mulissu’s courtyard, as several mephits capered nearby. The dome of the sky was, as usual, a perfect, unbroken cyan.

"It is within my nature to risk frequent assault upon my psyche," Mostin replied shakily. "You may have a point, however."

"Did you uncover anything worthwhile?"

"That remains to be seen," Mostin downed his drink rapidly and held out his glass for another draught, "but I think so. Interpretation is always the hardest part. This is a fine beverage. What is it?"

Mulissu shrugged, and poured again. "I don’t think it has a name. I acquired it from a passing Djinn. The pseudonatural entity seems foremost in your mind. Have you made an effort to contact it?"

"Not yet. I have not judged the time to be ripe. It soon will be, however."

"And you plan to _gate_ it into this ‘Afqithan?’"

"Perhaps. Or I may loose it against the Prince, if we ever have the misfortune to meet. Mulissu, I need guidance."

The Witch groaned. "I prefer not to dispense advice, where possible."

"Jovol’s _web of motes_," Mostin persisted. "Have you made headway in understanding it?"

Mulissu sighed. "I have thought of little else. It continually distracts me from my work."

"But do you _understand_ it?"

"No," she replied. "Or, I should say, I understand its principles and its function, but not how to read it – as you said, interpretation is always the hardest part. Would you like a demonstration?"

Mostin nodded. "Of course."

"Then we should go inside – it is best if we see it in relative darkness."

"I will bring the bottle," Mostin said. His mood was improving rapidly.


Mulissu had dedicated the space within the largest of the five minarets of her mansion-cum-castle to Jovol’s device. When she activated it – a flat metal plate some twelve inches square – by merely passing her hand over it, Mostin’s jaw dropped.

The darkness around them was suddenly illuminated by a hundred thousand points of light which coruscated in every colour imaginable. Some pulsed, and hummed, and seemed to move on unpredictable trajectories. Some quivered, some darted here and there, others stayed fixed, or orbited fathomless loci which could not be identified. Almost imperceptibly, slender threads wove them together, joining them for brief periods before they separated, or binding them tightly into pairs, triplets or larger clusters.

"Every mote represents a packet of consciousness – an individual entity, or a single perspective. They are shown in relation to one another."

Mulissu looked around briefly, before locating a bluish mote which blazed more brightly than those around it. She touched it with an outstretched finger, and it grew noticeably. Thousands of other motes winked out, but new ones came into being in their place. A puzzled look crossed her face.

"You seem perplexed," Mostin observed.

"The mote which I selected represents myself," Mulissu said. "That much, at least, I have determined. Notice the bright mote which winks nearby. Its pattern seems random and insubstantial: I suspect that this is you, although I cannot read the significance of its behaviour."

"I am _mind blanked_. This may be reflected in the web’s powers of scrutiny. How did you isolate the mote which represents you?"

"I just _knew_," the Witch answered. "Do not ask me to explain – I cannot."

"Eadric said that Jovol could _infer_ certain things," Mostin speculated, "even when he could not accurately determine them. It may be possible to locate anyone or anything at any time, past, present or future – given a user with sufficient ability. Beyond even Jovol’s powers, I suspect.

"Indeed," Mulissu raised an eyebrow. "Or mine. It may also be possible to advance or regress the whole web – currently, I believe it shows things _as they are_. It should be able to reveal things _as they were_ or even _as they will be_. This is beyond me. Nor can I determine the spatial coordinates of any of the motes – that is to say _where_ in any reality the individual to whom the mote belongs is located. Observe this."

The witch traced a thin tendril from her own mote with her finger. Around them both, lights flashed rapidly, as  the thread twisted and gyred. Slowly, in the centre of the chamber, a deep, purplish radiance grew. It seemed somehow serene. Perfect in its shape and form.

From it, a thousand strings, gossamer-thin, radiated outwards, connecting it to a myriad of other motes – including, somewhat detached,  the bright blue light which was Mulissu herself. Around the central radiance, slowly orbiting on its periphery, was a single spark of deepest red, filled with malevolence and conveying a sense of foreboding.

"Behold the Claviger," Mulissu smiled, "and the Enforcer. At the end of every tendril, there is a Wizard, Mostin. We are all bound together, and there is nothing we can do about it."

"But which is whom?" Mostin asked in awe.

Mulissu sighed. "That is the question."

The Alienist paused in thought for a moment, before reaching out to touch Gihaahia’s mote, eliciting a doubtful expression from Mulissu.

"Mostin…" She began.

"Sshh!" 

The Enforcer’s mote grew, and that of the Claviger retreated, until the red ellipsoid outshone all others. A feeling of subservience – tinged with an ancient, ineffable anger – emanated from it. 

"Remarkable," Mostin said. As the radicles which anchored it to other luminous points came in to view, its connection to the Claviger assumed a different shape – appearing as a long, tense cord, which glowered with coercive power.

Many of the motes were now black, or deep scarlet, or midnight blue in hue. From all, violence, and lust, and pain, and fear flowed forth – stifling and suffocating. Many flickered and seemed to jump unpredictably.

"Are we seeing reality from Gihaahia’s perspective, now?" Mostin asked.

"I think these motes around her represent the contacts which she has made. The significant entities which have shaped – and maybe continue to shape – her reality."

Mostin’s eyes darted about rapidly, following the tendrils which sprang from the Enforcer. _Where is the connection? It must be here. Is it this?_

A fuliginous mote, but somehow vague and indistinct came into view. He touched it. It grew, threatening to consume all else. Beyond it, past incomprehensible connections which spanned realities and stretched the bounds of apprehension, was a yet deeper void.

Mulissu touched him gently on the shoulder. "Stop, Mostin. It will not avail you, and madness lies that way. You do not have the understanding. Sometimes you need to accept your limits."

Mostin exhaled, and nodded.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*The Web of Motes - Continued*



They sat outside again. At Mulissu’s command, a cool breeze had arisen.

"The dark mote that you evoked – what was it?"

"Cheshne, or her echo," Mostin answered. "At least, I think it was. Nothingness has been weighing on my mind recently. Tell me, Mulissu: is it possible for a demon to survive annihilation?"

Mulissu shrugged. "The ontological paradox holds no interest for me. Speculating about such things is pointless."

"Did you see the void beyond the void?" Mostin asked.

"Yes, Mostin, I did – and I am superstitious enough to say ‘do not speak its name in my house.’ Why does it interest you?"

"It is the key to understanding the demoness Soneillon. If I can locate the mote which represents her, and then the mote which represents Eadric, Tramst, the Prince of Azzagrat…"

"It is an exceedingly long and arduous task," Mulissu sighed, and stretched. "I have attempted the process of cross-referencing, but there are hundreds of variables, and isolating many of them is near to impossible."

"Cosmic entities are easy enough to locate, if you can find one they lead from each to the next – the Enforcer is an excellent place to begin."

Mulissu shook her head. "And if you locate Cheshne, or Astaroth, what then? Can you tell which of Shûth’s accursed gods is which, or which Arch-fiend is Belial and which Amaimon? They flicker and shift."

"How did Jovol interpret it? Did he use a spell?"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps his insight was simply far greater than either of us."

_The bracelet_, Mostin thought at once, and struck his forehead with his hand.

Mulissu looked quizzical.

"I am an idiot," Mostin explained.


*


Shomei eyed the mephits with an expression of weary tedium on her face.

"How can you tolerate their continual antics?" She asked Mulissu. 

"They are acting according to their nature," the Elementalist replied. 

"They are fractious and ill-disciplined. I would choose retainers who are more reliable."

"And no doubt far duller and more serious. Mostin says that the bracelet that Jovol bequeathed to you enhances perception in certain areas."

Shomei raised an eyebrow. "Evidently he has studied it more than I gave him credit for. Or his speculation is, for once, accurate. He is correct."

"I wish to borrow it for a short while," Mulissu said impassively – a statement which verged upon a command, or at least an expectation that she would not be denied.

"In order to better interpret Jovol’s _web of motes_," Shomei nodded. "I, too, would like the opportunity to further realize my bracelet’s potential."

Mostin sighed. He saw where this argument was leading. "It seems plain to me that your respective egos – colossal and yet simultaneously fragile as they both are – would require each of you to assert your right to first use the bracelet and web in conjunction. I can offer a solution to this impasse by volunteering my services – humbly, of course – thereby sparing each of you further embarrassment. I would also like to point out that I am, by native disposition and years of rigorous training, a Diviner. The web is likely to respond favorably to my benign aura."

"That is utterly spurious," Mulissu moaned. "and I will not even deign to refute it formally. Shomei, follow me – the honour is yours. Forgive my presumption."

Mostin squinted, and traipsed behind the two witches into the dome.



Mulissu floated three inches above the marble floor, arms folded across her chest, whilst Mostin half-sulked and half-scrutinized Shomei, who stood at the centre of the _web of motes_.

Points of light wheeled around her at incredible speed. She reached out, touched motes which arose, grew, merged, separated, shifted and winked out.

"What do you see?" Mostin asked.

"Wait," the Infernalist replied. "There are more potential viewpoints than I had anticipated." She touched a mote, and it blossomed. 

"Well?" Mostin grumbled impatiently.

"There are numerous space-times represented by intersecting parabolae," Shomei answered. "All cosmoi are represented here. And the sum of all possibility."

Mostin looked dubious. "Can you find _any_ mote? Find Nwm’s mote."

Shomei glanced around, and interlocking systems rapidly flashed past. She touched another mote, and it assumed a central position and seemed to glow more brightly. The Infernalist laughed – predictably, it was green.

"Are you sure that’s him?" Mostin asked.

"Oh yes," she replied.

"Where is he?"  

"As I already know where Nwm is – at his glade near Deorham – that would hardly be a fair trial of the web’s power."

"Let me try," Mostin said.

"I’m next," Mulissu smiled.

Mostin scowled.

After several frustrating hours, he finally got to play.



When the Alienist engaged with the web for the second time, he drew in his breath sharply in wonder.

New levels of complexity were revealed, and others suggested or hinted at. Nuances which had eluded him entirely during his first encounter were suddenly plainly visible: possibilities, probabilities, connections on levels which he did not comprehend. Visions shared, perspectives held in common, affinities with concepts or geographical locations. Space, time and consciousness locked together in a latticework of impossible subtlety and intricacy. The _web of motes_ was a true microcosm. A mirror of reality – or of many realities.

_What can this device not do_? Mostin wondered to himself. _Who – or what – constructed it? When? How?_

Quickly, he isolated the mote which he knew represented himself and examined it.  Hundreds of connections emanated from it to other points of light: Eadric, Nwm, Shomei, Mulissu, Orolde, the Pseudonatural which he had only recently quizzed, the Horror and uncounted others.

Mostin concentrated, and the web receded. Motes flashed as time regressed, but larger patterns remained constant for long periods, as though some overriding principle – an organizing factor – was in play. When they changed, they seemed to do so sometimes slowly and deliberately, sometimes wholesale – imposing a new set of guiding rules and paradigms upon the interwoven gestalt. 

Mostin observed Khu: realities collided where _gates_ blazed open and celestials descended in legions. A maze of motes and taut connections which formed a huge knot with many facets. A nodality.

Mostin studied it for three hours, familiarizing himself with its patterns and undercurrents. A variety of hypothetical scenarios which had never been actualized overlapped with events as he remembered them: the death of Ainhorr, the death of himself, the successful flight of Feezuu, the failure of Mulissu to initiate the cascade. The reflection of Graz’zt – the demon’s simulacrum – surviving the assault. Mostin selected an unrealized past future where Eadric had been slain, and gingerly advanced the web into chaos.

Feezuu carving out an empire. Tens of thousands of motes in bondage or annihilated. Her lichdom – which had been so narrowly avoided. Rapid bifurcation, and incomprehensibility. 

Mostin sighed, and returned to the Now. He selected Graz’zt’s mote and scrutinized it briefly – it seemed absurdly complex in its connections. It resonated closely with Eadric, with Soneillon – the demoness was now plainly visible to the Alienist – and with hundreds of fiends and powerful servitors or thralls. Another mote, which was burdened with suffering beyond the ability of any mortal flesh to endure, was tightly enmeshed with the others.

Mostin swallowed, and touched Nehael.

A plethora of cosmoi wheeled in a pattern which bore an uncanny symmetry. Like a chiaroscuro in perfect balance, Nehael’s picture revealed Rintrah, Eadric, Graz’zt, Soneillon, Nwm, Titivilus and even Mostin himself in orbit around her. She was the lynchpin, the focus of all activity, and the calm centre around whom infinities – Oronthon, the Far Realm, Unbeing, Dream, the Green, the Adversary – seemed poised through their representatives to assert their claims to reality. Her resonance with Tramst was extraordinary – like Oronthon’s proxy, her role was to reveal all accepted truths as empty. Mostin tried to advance the web, but it immediately fractured into trillions of possibilities.

"Ngaarh!" He yelled in frustration.

Mulissu stood smiling, looking at him. "It is late, Mostin. I am hungry. Will you stay for dinner?"

Dumbly, Mostin nodded.


*

The Alienist, Elementalist and Infernalist sat around a small hexagonal table within an airy refectory, dining on a sumptuous meal of delicacies prepared by the mephit Shrix – who, apparently possessed a degree of culinary expertise normally eclipsed by his perverse sense of humour as Mulissu’s door-ward. 

"This has been most productive," Mostin said through a mouthful of exquisite pastries stuffed with figs, almonds and pistachios. "We should meet more regularly."

Mulissu looked suspicious – her intolerance for frequent interruption was well known.

"Did you determine Soneillon’s location?" Shomei asked Mostin. 

The Alienist shook his head. "I became somewhat preoccupied by other matters. Why?"

"She is on the Prime," Shomei replied.

Mostin coughed. "This information would have been better shared earlier."

"I had assumed that she would be first to fall under your scrutiny," the Infernalist jibed. "I merely noticed it in passing – my attention was directed towards the Infernal realms. Incidentally, Titivilus is in Afqithan, along with Furcas and Murmur – although I didn’t pursue that line of inquiry either."

Mostin almost choked.

"What _did_ you look at, Mostin?" Mulissu asked. "I spent an hour minutely inspecting the Claviger and its connections and then proceeded to examine _Ha’uh_ – a primal elemental with whom I should like to make peaceable contact, if possible."

Mostin raised an eyebrow. "The meta-structure of nodalities is fascinating. If I were to direct my energies in any one direction with regard to the web, then it would be here."

Mulissu sighed. "I think the dangers here are apparent – to be drawn in, and spend the rest of one’s life observing or contemplating cosmic plans, patterns and connections. Was it productive?"

"Yes and no," Mostin replied. "I found that advancing the web beyond its current reflection of the Now to be unsatisfying. I could not project it into the future with any degree of certainty."

"Nor could I," Mulissu nodded.

"Nor I," Shomei agreed. "It may be that Jovol’s bracelet is incapable of augmenting our faculties to this extent – his own native ability must have borne the brunt of his endeavours. It might behoove one of us to develop a spell for the express purpose of interpreting the web."

"I will do so," Mostin said, "when I have time."

"If it is ritualized I could easily perfect a formula in a matter of days," Mulissu said. "And with the minimum of fuss."

"My reservoir must stay unmolested," Mostin said sourly. "I want no repeat of Gihaahia’s binding – it set me back by a month at least."

"Noted," Mulissu nodded.

"Splendid," Shomei smiled. "Then I say that we reconvene in one week to discuss our options – assuming that Mostin and I are still alive. And every month thereafter."

Mulissu scowled. "Every year would suit me better."

"Then I would suggest every quarter, as a compromise," Mostin said. "We three would form a potent triad. We are peers, and few others compare to us in power and ability. Mulissu should be our leader – the first among equals."

"Not for long, I suspect," the Witch said drily.


**


"She is _here_?" Eadric asked, aghast.

Mostin gave a confirmatory nod. "There is more. Before we left, I inspected the web for a third time. It would appear that certain of those others whom we encountered have also made a translation."

Eadric looked sick. "Go on."

"Nhura. The Wyrm, and the Shadow who rode with him – most likely Threxu the Nymph mentioned by Nufrut. At least a dozen of the Loquai – including the one we briefly captured. The other chthonic _thing_. Nhura is accompanied by another creature: powerful, but heretofore unknown to us."

"A demon?"

"Demons may not enter the world of men unless called. The Interdict forbids it."

"But you just said…"

"It would seem that Soneillon has a way to circumvent it. Or perhaps it no longer applies to her. I would have said that perhaps she has an ally that we do not know about. One who brought her here – it would not be the first time. But the Enforcer would have intercepted a summoner and annihilated him or her. In any case, she is here."

"Where?" Nwm asked.

"Unfortunately, I currently lack the expertise to make an accurate assessment of her position without drawing attention to myself. Not that it matters – she can travel an unlimited distance at will."

"And the others?" Ortwin asked. "The Dragon?"

"Are split into two groups. I suspect one or more of them can _plane shift_: they may have arrived in two waves."

"I thought the sidhe were capable of that feat in any case," Ortwin said.

"Not the Loquai," Shomei answered. "They are bound to Shadow. Which is fortunate for us – several hundred of them would present a significant threat."

Eadric groaned. "We cannot allow them to remain here. They will cause untold damage."

Shomei shrugged. "It is _you_ they seek, _Ahma_ – your mote is replete with connections to them. Many minds are extended and focused in your direction. They may take some time to arrive here – the two groups are probably several hundred miles distant – both from us and each other. I don’t think they will tarry to cause random mayhem."

"We need to intercept the Dragon," Eadric said. 

Mostin nodded. "I will _scry_ him shortly. But give me an hour to prepare the rest of my spells."

"An _hour_?"

"I cannot work miracles, Eadric! If I don’t give this some thought, then the chances are that we’ll all wind up dead anyway."


**


In the chapel at Deorham, the four devas chanted in unison as they strapped Eadric’s armour to him and girded him with his sword belt. He hefted Melimpor’s shield – perpetually burnished to an unnatural sheen – and slid Lukarn into its scabbard.

The potent runes and wards on his weapon, girdle and armour would, he knew, be of limited use to him. In an area of dead magic, their power would be suspended: he was relying in large part on skill and force alone. He recalled his own words to Hullu – that he was the greatest warrior of the age, unmatched in arms by any other in Wyre. He swallowed, and wondered if it had been an idle boast.

From his armoury, the _Ahma_ had selected two powerful horn bows – one for himself, and another for Iua – together with quivers full of blue-fletched arrows. Ortwin would be using Shupthul’s bow – his own, _Anguish_ – had been lost along with the rest of his equipment. Unlike the Satyr and duelist, however, Eadric would carry no further wards or augmentations.

Ortwin and Iua were highly mobile – it was expected that they would range beyond the _antimagic field_, attack, and retreat back within it again. Eadric would stay at the centre, protecting the locus of null magic – Shomei – by whatever means he could.

Eadric sighed. He could have commanded a dozen, or even a hundred of Wyre’s most stalwart Templars to accompany him, and didn’t doubt for an instant that they would have followed. But his actions now were far beyond the purview of the Temple, and dragging them off to possible death – or worse – would have weighed on his mind for the rest of his life. This was not their fight. And there was no time.

He hoped that Shomei’s assessment was accurate – that they were interested in him alone. His stomach turned. What havoc would they wreak here, in Wyre? 

He closed his eyes, knelt, and prayed.

When he opened them again, he found that he could not rise. The celestials stood in unlikely poses near the altar, similarly paralyzed. Behind him, the Paladin heard gentle footsteps approaching.

A girl who was almost a woman, clad in the traditional folk costume of Trempa – a clean white dress drawn in around the waist, with brightly patterned hems – stood next to him. She leaned forward and lit an offertory candle from an oil lamp, which burned before the solar orb upon the small altar. The flame which kindled from the taper seemed to blaze with a colour that was darker than soot. Eadric’s eyes strained to see her face, oval and framed with a riot of black hair.

She knelt slightly too close for decency, her perfume a heady combination of musk and spice. She turned her head, and her breath was warm in his ear as she whispered.

"Nothing becomes."


----------



## Greybar

Eeep!  (how come that's usually my response to his posts?)

As a GM I would potentially petrified by letting players have access to something like the _Web of Motes_.
But I am not Sepulchrave...


----------



## Jackylhunter

Oh WOW!!

You constantly amaze me Sep.  

Great Imagery there.   The last bit,  with Eadric putting on his armor, was chilling.  You just knew Soneillon was going to show up, but then she does and says 'Nothing Becomes',  that's just fantastic!!

What is she going to ask of him?

Please keep up the great work, Sep!
Thank you for sharing this with us.
-Jackylhunter


----------



## carpedavid

Greybar, I'll see your "Eeep!" and raise you an "Oooh, shiny!"

Great update, Sepulchrave! Can you tell us more about the Web of Motes? Was it inspired by anything in particular?

I continue to enjoy the mix of quantum mechanics, religious philosophy, and high fantasy that is this story hour.


----------



## grodog

Holy Demonic Intervention Batman! 

Great update Sep, and very reaffirming for me, since I opted not to attend GenCon for the fourth year in a row (yes, I'm jonesing...)


----------



## darkbard

though it's hard to compare among relative near-perfections, this is the best update in quite some time!  who says d&d is about combat only?!?!  sep, you and your players are an inspiration to us all.


----------



## Felix

Gah! Failed my Fortitude save; reverting to 4th grade:

WE'RE NOT WORTHY! WE'RE NOT WORTHY! WE'RE NOT WORTHY!






Thank goodness it's not Duration: Permanent.

Sepulchrave, you, like Alice Cooper, rock.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Ah, an update too long to fit in one post.  What could be better!?

Lucky I was at home when I reading the update- lots of "Aaaah!" and "Oh no!"  and "Oh my...!".  And jumping up and down in my chair.  

In other news, it looks like I will be commissioning three other pieces to illustrate the story hour:

1) Ortwin and Rurunoth
2) Eadric and Titivilus
3) Crosod and Threxu

All by different people.  In another month or two maybe I'll get Iua drawn with Ortwin the Satyr, and Nwm, and... maybe Mulissu?

Life is good.


----------



## William Ronald

Another installment in this story hour makes me feel somewhat better about missing Gen Con.  Well done, Sep!


----------



## Seule

Aargh!  That's it?  You're stopping there?  NOOOOO!!  You can't do this to us!

Well, I guess you can, but we don't have to like it.

  --Seule


----------



## Lela

Seule said:
			
		

> *Aargh!  That's it?  You're stopping there?  NOOOOO!!  You can't do this to us!
> 
> Well, I guess you can, but we don't have to like it.
> 
> --Seule *




Oh, no?  I dare you to try to stop yourself.



I haven't felt like this about reading something since Harry Potter 5.  And before that I can't recall feeling this way at all.  You're amazing Sep.  I mean that completley.  Amazing.


----------



## Guardian Andy

What can I say?

This is Fantastic!

Sep, if you write a book, can I get a sign from you and all your player?


----------



## WizarDru

Sep, 

Great update, as always.

Questions:

1) Are there actual mechanics for the use of the Web of Motes, do you wing it, or is it all pure roleplay (with the powers of the device loosely understood)?

2) Is Soneillon using some form of Epic spell-effect, here, or is this just a function of the kind of being/unbeing she is?


----------



## Darklone

I would burn my Harry Potter 5 book at once if I could get another couple of pages of Sep update right now!


----------



## tleilaxu

great update sep. you've set the bar high for yourself but that lept over it like a juiced up athlete. and i like the florid stuff. don't listen to lombard :b)


----------



## Dakkareth

There were two discrete points at which I  was particularily amazed-surprised-overwhelmed, the point, where they speak about 'loosing the horror' on whatever was in their way and when Mostin declared his intent and subsequently posed an _metagnostic inquiry_ to that pseudonatural.

After that I was already blown away so far, that in a state of profound amazement I could do barely more than gape at the _web of motes_, its overwhelming implications passing through a cloudy mind without evoking the appropriate resonance.

This segment is nothing short of incredible. It combines the philosophical deepness of Eadrics parley with Titivilus with Mostin's staggering madness and the hint of infinite connections and realities beyond the visible as in the scene, where the implications of the heroes' actions on planar politics are shown. Add the nifty RP/RL/mechanic component and it reaches yet another level of incredibility.


Great originality and utterly unreal creativeness composed in masterfully applied language make this part one of the best pieces of literature I've ever read. And I'm saying this not lightly at all and in absolute honesty.


-Dakkareth


----------



## Celtavian

*re*

Is Sep planning to publish his world? If so, he has a great kernel with his unique religion. It would probably take alot of work to develop a unique magic system and rename his pantheon, or at least differentiate it from the D&D version of certain celestial creatures, so that he would have full copyright protection for his creation.


----------



## AI

I've been devouring all that I can find of this particular Story Hour and hopefully I haven't overlooked what I am about to ask for, but has there been a discourse yet between Nwm and Oronthon's proxy, Tramst?

I loved the scene between Tramst and Shomei and I can only imagine what a discussion/debate between Tramst and Nwm would be like. Kudos to Nwm's player for keeping his character's personality so consistent. I love his pragmatic and "down to earth" attitude. I am just intensely curious to see if a run in with Tramst would alter any of his practical world-views at all.

In Shomei's case, even she was not able to leave a meeting with Oronthon unscathed, so to speak. And we all know how stubborn women are. 

[Edit: Initially spelled "Oronthon" incorrectly. Forgive me, Tramst.]


----------



## grodog

A revelation occurred to me.



> [Soneillon] knelt slightly too close for decency, her perfume a heady combination of musk and spice. She turned her head, and her breath was warm in his ear as she whispered.
> 
> "Nothing becomes."




This quotation from the latest update of Soneillon Part II is, remarkably but not exactly unexpectedly, the concluduing phrase to Eadric's revelation when he first meets Tramst at the beginning of Rape of Morne II:



> ([Tramst] Leans forward and touches Eadric lightly on the forehead).
> 
> 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.
> 
> “Saizha*,” Oronthon said.
> 
> Eadric wasn’t sure if it was a question, or not, and knew that it didn’t matter. Duality had evaporated in a soaring ecstasy.




I wonder if Oronthon's scope of revelation and change for his priesthood, for Wyre's reality, is much greater than we had previously imagined:  

If Nehael is able to reconcile the Fallen with the Green, through her redemption, is Eadric about to reconcile nothingness (Soneillon) with actuality/reality (as embodied in himself)???

Given Sep's explanation of Saizha in the second post of Rape of Morne II---



> NOTHING IS. NOTHING IS NOT. NOTHING BECOMES
> 
> The final, bold assertion framed as a threefold dialectic of negation, and reiterating the ontological questions raised before. The Real cannot be described as either existing or not existing, or as being in the process of becoming. This is the central mystical assertion of saizhan.




---I think that Soneillon, on some level, represents the subjectivity of reality in a Schroedinger's-Cat-like manner:  she's there, she's not, but she's still real and still nothingness, existing (and not existing) in both states at the same time.  

Further, when the magi of Wyre descend into hell to bind Gihaahia, they encounter the following:



> "[The wave of hatred] will pass," Jovol assured them. "It is merely an echo of an event long past, or one which happened in another time – depending on your perspective. Dream remembers all potentiality – realized or not, past, present or future. Parallel, perpendicular, or extending into an infinity of dimensions."
> 
> "What is/was/will be the event?" The Alienist asked, careful not to frame his question in the language of conventional linear time.
> 
> "That also depends on your perspective," the Ogre grinned. "The Prime Nodality. The beginning of dualism. The birth of the dialectic. The planting of the seeds of knowledge or damnation."
> 
> "The Fall," Shomei said.
> 
> "If you subscribe to that particular paradigm," Jovol nodded. "For the moment, we should adopt it whatever our respective world-views: it is relevant to our situation. Let’s just assume that it’s provisionally correct, and act accordingly. We are on the fringes of Hell."




A possible nod to Gaiman's Sandman series (re: Morpheus' escape from Hell and confrontation with Lucifer) follows this discussion:



> "And Devils dream?" Mostin asked incredulously. "I’ve never seen one sleep, and I’ve known a few."
> 
> "Everything dreams," Jovol answered.
> 
> "Twaddle," Shomei muttered.




I think there are connections to the Web of Motes, too:  the web sights into alternative realities, each of which may be equally and validly real (and not real), according to the final saizhan assertion.  Soneillon may be the key to resolving the unreality of Nothingness with Creation.  Perhaps Eadric must turn her....  Perhaps all of the story's activity to date has been Oronthon trying to resolve his separation from Demogorgon, the uttermost ontic negation?  Will the love-child of Eadric and Soneillon (or of Eadric and Nehael) be the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil, of exalted damnation, which will repair that rift for once and for all?  

===

Unrelatedly, I seem to be having email problems again:  no outbound mail for the past day+.  I'll get compilations out as soon as I'm able.

EDIT:  added Gihaahia passage, Gaiman comment, fruit comment


----------



## The Forsaken One

That's deep Grodog, that's deep.


----------



## Cinerarium

*There went my weekend*

I was supposed to be converting my character for Destan's campaign over to 3.5 as well as updating his journal before we play on Tuesday.  Instead I spent almost all of my free time over the weekend finally getting completely caught up with this Story Hour.

Wow.

Thanks also to Cheiromancer for compiling the whole thing in one thread, without comments.  

But let me get back to the heaping of praise part.

Wow.

I gotta say, I'm not a huge fan of the Zen aspects of Saizhan, but just having those kinds of conversations IC in a game is... well, very impressive.  

Bravo to Sep and his players for doing such an amazing job, both as good gamers and good role-players!

My hat's off to you,
Cinerarium


----------



## Seravin

Sep,
It's been awhile since I said this was a Great Story Hour, but it is and it's worth repeating along with everyone else.

It's a Great Story Hour - my personal favorite out of the handfull I read.  Thanks for taking the time to write it out for us.  Also, thanks for the advice and praise for your readers in Destan's storyhour.

Again, thanks for taking the time.

oh...

and 'wow'.

_<edit: fixed a small spacing issue>_


----------



## Lela

Seravin said:
			
		

> *  Also, thanks for the advice and praise for your readers in Destan's storyhour.
> *





Aw, might as well reference it then,



			
				Sepulchrave II in [URL=http://enworld.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=51797&pagenumber=4]Destan's Story Hour said:
			
		

> *Hi Destan
> 
> Sorry to leave it so long before replying - I've been following since the outset. It seems almost gauche to add my praises now, but you have a profound gift with words - don't ever let anyone else tell you differently.
> 
> The more you write, the better you'll get. Keep writing. I'm still new to the process, and often terribly intimidated by it.
> 
> Every day, sit down and write, if you can - even if it's only a line or a paragraph. There will be times when all you want to do is smash the screen of your monitor, or you feel sick with it, or blocked, or whatever. Sometimes, you will despise the people who praise you, and resent their incessant nagging for an update. Writing will interfere with your social life, your personal life and, ironically, the time you have to prepare for and play the game itself. It will consume you.
> 
> You must do it. You know this.
> 
> A year from now, you'll probably look back and be embarrassed by your early posts - I certainly am by mine. They will feel naïve and awkward. Struggling to express ideas is the most frustrating thing in the world, but I think it becomes easier and more natural. Maybe. As I say, I'm still - comparatively - a virgin when it comes to this.
> 
> Never relent in your criticism of yourself, and try to accept praise gracefully - something which is very awkward for me to do, and something I often feel guilty about. I really should acknowledge people's positive comments more than I do, and I'm conscious that I might sometimes come across as stand-offish and arrogant - something that I need to work on
> 
> The ENWorld boards are a wonderful community and resource. And although I have, at times, resented my readers' "incessant nagging ," I couldn't have come this far without them. Prodding, nudging, encouraging, supporting, and making me sit down again at the computer. They have my profound gratitude.
> 
> Best to you, and here's hoping that you can find a groove that you're comfortable with.
> 
> 
> Jim Ferris. *




Also, big pimp for Destan's  Work while I'm at it.


----------



## Garlok

*This is Fantastic!!*

Yes I know I'm comming in a bit late but I only discovered this Story on Sunday and I am now up to date.

I can only say as has already been said by many others:

WRITE A BOOK!!!

Even if it means no updates for quite some time. I'm thinking that once you make your pile 'O $$$ that you can then direct more time into doing writing and updates and we will all be the better off for it. 

I am just floored with how good this story is....


----------



## Celtavian

*re*

Do those requesting he write a book have any idea how much he would have to alter the material to control the property? Not to mention having to sign certain agreements with the players for claim on each character concept and name. 

Its no easy feat to create a literary property and writing one is the easiest part. 

I'm all for someone obtaining success. Sep definitely has some good writing skills as well as an excellent vocabulary. 

I hope those pushing for him to write a book understand that he would have to pull every single ounce of material from this Story Hour. He would have to have grodog and everyone who has downloaded the current material delete their files. He certainly couldn't write on this Story Hour forum anymore without having problems controlling the copyright for his material.

If Sep is at all interested in making his creation into a profitable literary property, he should speak to someone in his area who understands copyright laws.

I don't know whether Sep is seriously considering publishing his world, but if so, he should definitely take the steps necessary to protect his material. 

If not, then keep on writing Sep. I'm enjoying what I am reading so far. If you write for personal enjoyment, more power to you.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Arrgh! - I'm in the process of purchasing a house, so don't expect updates to be too frequent.

That said, here's one now.

grodog sometimes has an uncanny perception...



****


*Soneillon*


Soneillon shifted her position, placing a prayer cushion on the low dais before the Paladin, and sitting upon it – squarely in front of him – in the meditation posture of _saizhan_. Whether an authentic act, or in dry mockery, Eadric could not tell. She reached forwards, and cupped the _Eye of Palamabron_ which hung around Eadric’s neck in her delicate hand, snapped the chain which held it between thumb and forefinger, and casually tossed the amulet aside. As she straightened again, her hair – which smelled of lotus and sandalwood – brushed his face. She smiled.

Her every gesture possessed an effortless allure, replete with innuendo, and the promise of annihilation which rested in her eyes – fathomless voids – served only to heighten her magnetism. She was infinitely desirable. And something about her, not her appearance, but in some way her _essence_ – if she was endowed with such – reminded him of Nehael. 

Eadric closed his eyes.

"_Saizhan_," she said gently, "demands that you admit to your feelings, take note of them, and allow them to pass peacefully from your mind without judging them. Repression leads to madness. This is why Orthodoxy failed. And erotophobia was among its greatest flaws. You may speak."

The compulsion which transfixed him relaxed just a little. He opened his eyes again, looked at her, and nodded. "There is some merit in that statement," he said shakily. "But If you wish to act as my temptress, you should stand in line – that position is currently filled."

Soneillon laughed, and Eadric was surprised to find that it was a pleasant and agreeable sound. The Paladin recalled Nufrut’s words – _most enigmatic_, she had labeled the Succubus. He reluctantly found himself in agreement with the Marilith’s assessment.

"What do you want, Eadric?" She asked softly. The question penetrated to his core, assailing him on all levels – existential, emotional and physical – at once. "I can help you recover your demon-lover. I don’t doubt you have already speculated about how best to _use_ me. You could have come to Throile and approached me directly – I am not unreasonable."

"And I am not in the habit of frequenting the Abyssal lairs of demonesses," Eadric replied. "Besides, I find far too many fiends far _too_ reasonable. We determined early on that Throile was too high a risk."

"But you entertained the possibility," she smiled. "One of your allies – the devil Aoloz – is still interned there. The _Ahma_ is wise to use fiends to do his dirty work – they are less conspicuous than solars, I suspect. Although their demise is also less spectacular." Her words bit deep.

"I am not responsible for Shomei’s choice of servants," Eadric sighed.

"Ahh." The fact that Soneillon evinced no sarcasm made her reply even more frustrating.

Eadric looked sceptical. "I’m surprised that you felt the need to discard Palamabron’s Eye. Titivilus felt no compunction about allowing me to wear it. Perhaps you lack his guile?"

"Perhaps," she shrugged. "Or perhaps unequal truths do not concern me."

The Paladin scowled. "I find your oblique references to _saizhan_ baffling. What are you trying to accomplish?"

"They are hardly oblique, Eadric. If I perceive a kernel of wisdom in an idea, then  I am not above admitting it – no matter where its source lies. But I am no philosopher and have no interest in debate – I lack the patience. As to the Eye, I’d hoped that you would trust your own ability to judge me, rather than the obsolete lens of a dead cherub. The Truth has changed."

Eadric shook his head wrily. "I can’t trust the authenticity of my own thoughts and actions whilst under the effect of a compulsion. The Eye might allow me to retain some sense of perspective." He sighed. "You wish to use me against Graz’zt. What is it that I can accomplish, which you cannot?"

"Force of arms is not my forté – nor that of my servants. And you are singularly driven in your desire for vengeance. One of Oronthon’s less ‘noble’ aspects, I would argue – but that’s beside the point."

"And what of those you sent here – the Wyrm, Nhura, the Loquai. Why are you here now, if they have come to whisk me back to you?"

"I did not send them – Nhura determined to come of her own volition. And while I’m sure that ingratiating themselves with me is one motive, there are many others. Nhura needs to assert her ascendancy. Koilimilou desires the return of her _box of shades_. Threxu always longs for new forests to rape and despoil, and the Wyrm to cause as much mischief as he can. And the Loquai? The Loquai can _hunt_ – which is what they love best."

"But you command them?"

Soneillon smiled. "I have no particular attachment to them. You may relax, now. Do as you wish."

Eadric found that he could move again, and shifted his position accordingly. He stood uneasily, glanced at the quartet of unmoving celestials near the altar, at the door to the chapel, and at the demoness again – she looked strangely vulnerable. Somehow, Eadric felt even more uncomfortable than before. He could not read her. He looked at the _Eye of Palamabron_ lying nearby, and sighed. On some level, her words regarding the amulet rang true.

"I would ask that you do not target my friends," Eadric said. "We are interdependent. If you eliminate them, then my effectiveness is diminished."

"I regret Ortwin’s _disintegration_," she answered. "I didn’t command it."

"And you will call your servants off."

"They are not my servants, Eadric. I am not responsible for their actions."

"You slew Irknaan for his intransigence."

"I slew Irknaan because he was an irritating bore," she replied. 

She was maddening. Impossible.


"And what of the other demon? The one of your kind, who is now with Nhura? It is one of yours?"

Soneillon shook her head. "I suggested the name to Irknaan. Whatever compacts were arranged subsequently with Nhura are beyond my purview."

"You could ask the Lillend and her cohorts to return to Afqithan," Eadric said through gritted teeth.

"I could."

"Will you?" He asked.

"No," she replied. "Your actions have led to their presence here. They are your responsibility. And I would like to see how you deal with them." 

"You would sacrifice them merely to gauge my suitability as an assassin?"

Soneillon stood up smoothly and stretched slowly, catlike. "If you need me, then call me with your mind when you are on the threshold of sleep. I will come to you."

"I need you to convince your allies to return to Afqithan."

"You know what I mean, Eadric."

He swallowed. "I think you should leave, now." _Do not look at me thus_.

"Until tonight, then."

"Go."

"Dream well," she smiled, and vanished.


Eadric shook, and cursed silently. He flung the doors to the chapel open, and stormed into the courtyard. The sun was bright, and caused him to squint.

"Nwm!" He thundered.



**


They sat in the Great Hall at Kyrtill’s Burh, around a huge oak table, stained and worn by centuries of feasts held by Eadric’s forebears. Shafts of light from the high windows – opened for the first time in several months – revealed more dust than Mostin felt was healthy. The handful of servants had been less than conscientious in maintaining the interior of the Keep, content instead to deplete the Paladin’s wine cellar. Eadric was unusually tolerant of their idleness – something which the Alienist found deplorable, but knew better than to mention. Mostin discreetly deployed a cantrip to clean the air and furniture.

"Perhaps you should have accepted Titivilus in his offer to act as mediator," the Druid said drily. "I suspect that he would have kept his head, and remained a little cooler. What is it with you and succubi, anyway?"

"Shut up, Ortwin," Eadric said, before the Satyr could open his mouth. The Bard gave a look of mock offense.

Nwm gestured airily. "She has demonstrated her power, in any case. It would seem to be considerable."

Shomei nodded. "I think we knew that – she has held the Prince of Azzagrat to a stalemate for millennia. That is no small feat."

"A simple protection spell should suffice to prevent her exercising further control," Mostin added. "Of course, if she determines that she really _wants_ to – for whatever reason – then she can. We can smother you with wards, all of which would crumble before her magic."

Eadric groaned. "I had assumed that she had dismissed the enchantment."

"No," Mostin said ruefully. 

"How long will it last?"

"I don’t know. I could _disjoin_ it, but I think we’re probably better off just letting it run its course – I may need the spell. I doubt it’s permanent – she was dominating the celestials as well."

"How did she appear?" Ortwin asked. "Was she pert, or curvaceous?"

Iua kicked him hard under the table. 

"These are important considerations," the Satyr continued. "Would she be swayed by my not inconsiderable charms, I wonder?"

"Have you no principles at all?" Eadric asked. "The question is rhetorical – you need not answer it. As a girl of perhaps eighteen years. She was wearing a Trempan peasant’s clothes – the kind reserved for festivals and holidays."

Mostin raised an eyebrow. "Intriguing. I had a vision of such, although its significance was difficult to determine."

"That is an agreeable persona," Ortwin nodded. "Did it elicit the _Ahma_’s approval?"

"Where is this line of inquiry leading, Ortwin?" Eadric looked through narrowed eyes.

"I am an accomplished seducer," the Bard declared. "I am merely attempting to deduce her tactics. I appreciate professionalism in the field of love – hence I’ve always had a soft spot for succubi."

"She is far more," Eadric said irritably.

"Than Nehael?" The question was brutal. 

"That is not what I meant."

"I’m just making sure," Ortwin smiled disarmingly. "Eadric, forbidden fruit always tastes sweetest – trust me, I’ve plucked enough of it in my time. Your sorry lot is compounded by the fact that you are driven by some religious urge to overcome duality – on whatever level it happens to manifest. Hence, I would speculate, your initial attraction to Nehael."

"They are hardly comparable circumstances."

"Let the Satyr continue," Mostin said. "This is interesting, and he may have a point. He is experiencing a rare moment of philosophical insight. Do not discourage him."

"You perceive the possibility of a union of opposites," Ortwin said.

"_Hierosgamos_," Mostin nodded approvingly. "The Alchymic Marriage."

"Quite," Ortwin raised an eyebrow. 

"And she is playing to your understanding of _saizhan_," Shomei smiled, "to which the ontological paradox is central. Transcending the duality of _ens_ and _non-ens_ is one of the oldest conundrums of mysticism. Where does consciousness lie when it observes the duality? Does it exist or not? She promises oblivion, which attracts you."

Eadric grumbled. "If you are quite finished in dissecting my psyche…"

"I am not," Ortwin interrupted. 

"Nor I," Mostin added. "Eroticism is dangerous because it clouds your perspective – you should exercise caution if you plan to pursue this route as a means to metagnosis. As a recreational activity, I have no problem with it."

"Enough!" Eadric snapped. "I have no desire to pursue ‘metagnosis’ so the point is moot. Can we leave now?"

"Soon," Mostin replied. "I would prefer to wait until they have passed over the deeper stretches of Lake Thahan – if the Dragon takes to the water, it may complicate things." 

"I will go and put on that damned armour," Ortwin complained. "I want my gear back."

Outside, Iua turned to the Bard, exasperated. "Do you have to goad him so?" 

"My Love, sometimes it is the only way to make him think."

"Do you have to _enjoy_ it so much?"

Ortwin laughed.


Within the hall, Eadric turned to Nwm. "I was hoping that you might have some advice."

The Druid sighed. "It is difficult. I do not view carnality with the same suspicion that you do. Don’t look offended, you know its true. Assuming that we survive this afternoon, then you will be tested again tonight."

"If I sleep within Mostin’s extradimensional space, _mind blanked_, then I should be safe. Correct, Mostin?"

The Alienist looked dubious. "I suppose so. I am no expert in the way that Dream functions, but that seems reasonable. If she locates you, she can _dispel_ the ward, though. And the fact remains: how long can you realistically avoid her, using this tactic?"

"I concur," Nwm nodded. "And I think that trying to place yourself beyond her ability to reach you might even be detrimental in the long run. It might pique her interest even more, if you set yourself up as a challenge. She seems to have a well-developed sense of humour – from what you’ve said, at least. No. You should retire as normal, _and_ – you’re not going to like this – maybe you should call to her."

Eadric’s jaw dropped. "Are you crazy?"

"You cannot _avoid_ this confrontation now, Eadric. Maybe you can delay it, but I don’t think that would be productive. It will eat at your mind. You should ground yourself, embrace the paradox, and see where it leads. You must act in full consciousness, not in partial denial. If you refuse her attentions, it must be for the right reasons. Talk to her. _Open a dialogue_, as you said yourself."

"Something which you were against, I recall," Eadric said ironically.

"But now she has made the first move," Nwm pointed out, "and we should reappraise. Reflexivity is required. I am not you, Eadric, and I lack your understanding in certain areas. Shomei seems to think that Soneillon is the most evil, blasphemous, corrupt, tainted entity that she has ever had the misfortune to encounter – she is an expert in such matters, and I am not, so normally I would defer to her opinion. However, you are the _Ahma_, and your perspective is less than conventional. You must act from instinct, or insight, or whatever you want to call it."

"Sometimes you are very wise, Nwm."

"Yes," the Druid replied. "Although, as a caveat, I would add that it is entirely possible that Mostin is right, your judgement is skewed, and you are rationalizing a basic sexual urge in terms of mystical inquiry."

"That is not helpful," Eadric sighed.

Nwm shrugged. "Sorry," he said.



**


Mostin sat before the Looking-glass of Urm Nahat, idly commanding various scenes to appear upon its surface. Villages. Still, deep water. A small island with a rambling, ramshackle manse of modest proportions.

Eadric stood impatiently behind the Alienist. "What are you _doing_ Mostin?"

"Patience," Mostin replied. He issued a _sending_:

_Whatever you are doing, desist. I will be in your study in five seconds. A matter of utmost importance. Mostin._

The return message began:

_But…_

Mostin ignored it. Upon the face of the mirror, the scene of a cluttered workspace appeared. Alembics, heaps of papers, homunculi in jars, and devices whose function Eadric could only begin to guess at were scattered and strewn around.  A girl – perhaps six years old and wearing a bright yellow cloak which seemed far too large for her – sat at a table, her tiny hands holding a tome almost as large as she was. She scowled into the sensor.

Mostin raised an eyebrow, and stepped through the mirror.


*

"This is most irregular, Mostin," Tozinak said. "I have no party scheduled for three weeks."

"Pay attention," Mostin replied rudely. 

Tozinak shifted into the form of a squat dwarf with chestnut skin, a bulbous nose and large, gnarled hands. He looked irritated.

"In approximately fifteen minutes," Mostin continued, "an enormous umbral fiendish dragon and several other creatures of an equally dubious nature will be passing some three miles from here – if they maintain their current course. I plan on intercepting them nearby."

Tozinak spluttered. "But…"

"Tozinak, if I thought there was any chance that you would aid me, then I would ask. You are renowned for your meek temperament – not that I am criticizing…

"It sounds like you are to me," Tozinak grumbled.

"…but I thought I should warn you nonetheless. There will be magical fireworks in your vicinity – do not be alarmed. When Shomei and I…"

"Shomei is with you?"

"She will be. When…" Mostin paused, about to continue with his explanation – a white lie or two to draw the other Wizard’s interest. Perhaps the Dragon had swallowed an ingot of adamant. Perhaps one of the other ‘dubious’ creatures possessed something Tozinak desired. Mostin sighed.

"Tozinak, I can’t lie to you – you’re just too damn _nice_. Will you help?"

"Well, Mostin, I’d love to but…"

"Never mind," Mostin said. "One cannot expect too much, I suppose. You are not your sister.*"

"That is most unfair. Besides, you never even met my sister."

"Something which I deeply regret," Mostin replied.

"Bah!" Tozinak grunted, and transformed into a winged fey of uncertain genus. "I will do what I can. But then all debts are settled."

"Thank-you, Tozinak."

"Do not expect too much!"

"Don’t worry, Tozinak – I don’t."


**


The inhabitants of Brinnan, a small fishing village nestled beneath the crags of the Gairu – a precipitous massif, which thrust far southwards of the western Thrumohars on the shores of Lake Thahan – did not, for the most part, notice anything untoward, unless it was the faintest acrid smell upon the breeze.

High above, _invisible_, Crosod, Threxu, Koilimilou and three Loquai champions upon umbral griffons passed rapidly through the sky. They ascended, the great, tenebrous wings of the Dragon somehow capturing the thermals, and granting him lift. 

Disguised as a rock upon a granite outcrop, Tozinak shivered. With his magical Sight,  he had observed them, and the spectre of the Wyrm – a vast, ravenous shape which ate all light – had almost caused him  to fall into a catalepsy of fear and void his stony bowels when they flew overhead. His terror at their passing was matched only by his relief that they could not perceive him.

He swallowed, cast a _greater dispelling_, and immediately _teleported_ back to his island retreat.

Crosod screeched as wards fell from him and he immediately became visible. He turned his head to locate the source of the spell, his blindsight rapidly scanning the scree. A small boulder vanished. The Wyrm cursed. He turned his head again and was suddenly overwhelmed by a _squamous pulse_ which caused his two-foot thick armour to buckle and rupture.

The sound of his pain and fury was terrific. Rocks split under the force of the noise.

From another outcrop, some hundred yards distant, Eadric, Ortwin and Iua – _hasted_ and _invisible_ – began to launch a storm of enchanted arrows at the Dragon. From an unlocated source, Mostin struck him squarely with a sonic _meteor swarm_.

The Dragon still reeled, attempting to regain his coordination but Threxu, her face contorted in rage, reacted quickly. She rendered the Wyrm invulnerable to elements and invoked an _unholy aura_ around them both. Nearby, upon her griffon and still warded from sight, Koilimilou targeted the outcrop from which the arrows had issued with an intense burst of dark sound.

Two miles away, on the lakeshore, the fisher-folk of Brinnan stopped in the streets and looked towards the Gairu suspiciously. Thunder echoed in the mountains, but the skies were clear. A mile further out upon the lake, Tozinak quailed in his overgrown garden.

Crosod screamed again as two more _squamous pulses_ caused his scales to twist and dig further into the flesh beneath them, and darts began to pierce his failing armour. Another immense sonic struck him, but harmlessly. He shook off a _disintegrate_. Above him, now revealed to his perception, a trio of birds descended towards him – two eagles, pulsing with magical power, and a roc of colossal size which dwarfed even his enormous form. The Wyrm’s wings powered him upwards, he invoked a _haste_, and struck the roc with a quickened _destruction_ which immediately rebounded back upon him, dissipating quickly in the form of black fire over his body.

Sem and Gheim, acting as vehicles of Uedii’s distaste at the presence of the fiendish dragon in her realm, blazed with Green power as they outpaced the larger bird and tore into Crosod. Their claws and beaks ripped through his shivered scales, finding the gaps in his armour around his head and throat.

Shomei erected an _antimagic field_, and she, Eadric, Iua and Ortwin suddenly became visible upon a granite buttress. The mounted Loquai immediately dived at full speed towards them, leveling their lances. Threxu scowled – unsure of what their sudden appearance meant.

The Wasted Nymph lashed out with a _horrid wilting,_ only to find that it evaporated harmlessly. Koilimilou took note, issued a _sending_ to Nhura for immediate assistance – whatever and however it could arrive there – and quickly _summoned_ a vrock which appeared in the air nearby.

Nwm, seething with powerful magic, broke upon Crosod at full speed, his immense claws and beak puncturing scales, muscle and sinew upon the Wyrm’s back. Shomei gaped from her vantage point as she watched the Roc pluck the writhing Dragon from the air, and toss him with contemptuous ease against a jagged pilon of stone which reared nearby, smashing it to pieces. Threxu gripped onto Crosod’s foreleg desperately, but was flung clear.

Now, upon the rocky platform, Paladin, Bard and Duelist found themselves engaged in a fierce melee with the Loquai and their griffons, trading blows in an area where wards were ineffective and all magic was suffocated. Shomei felt utterly vulnerable – as one unused to depending on the skill of others for her wellbeing, the voluntary surrender of power had been difficult to stomach. The Infernalist’s fears were misplaced – the sidhe were revealed to be totally outmatched, and were cut down in a matter of seconds.

Mostin – wherever he was – targeted Crosod with another _greater dispelling_, followed by another sonic _meteor swarm_ and a quickened, maximized cluster of _magic missiles_. 

Shattered, Crosod lurched briefly, and vanished into Shadow. Threxu screamed – in frustration and betrayal – even as the pair of eagles descended upon her with their claws bared. They lacerated her umbral flesh in a frenzy, as she strove to fend them off.

Cursing, the Nymph gestured and malice flowed from her. She targeted the base of the buttress upon which Eadric, Ortwin, Iua and Shomei stood with an _earthquake_, caused granite to crack and groan, and vanished using a _dimension door_. As the stack collapsed, Ortwin rode a crumbling section of cliff-face downwards, leapt from it as it toppled outwards, rolled, and stood up smoothly.

Shomei, bruised and bloody, sighed as she observed the Satyr and Iua. The Duelist appeared similarly unscathed.

Koilimilou vanished in terror, even as her _summoned_ servitor – following its orders – swept down towards Eadric. The Paladin sighed and hefted Lukarn.

Above, Nwm’s mind reached out with his torc. Threxu was still within range, and although his Sight could not extend to discern her _invisible_ form, he knew she was there. As he powered towards her and she came within view, Nwm shuddered as a _horrid wilting_ coursed over him. It was her last, desperate effort.

Nwm spoke, and a column of viridescent fire erupted from the ground beneath Threxu. The Shadow burned away. For the briefest moment, Nwm fancied that he saw her as maybe she once had been, and then the Green gently reabsorbed her essence.

Before the demon reached Eadric, it entered the _antimagic field_ which still emanated from Shomei, and winked out. Mostin alighted softly upon the ground and reappeared. He grinned wrily. Hovering in the air nearby were four sensors – obviously several parties were interested in their activities, but if one was Nhura, she was disinclined to reveal herself. 

After they had returned to Kyrtill’s Burh, Mostin gestured for the others to follow him back through the mirror.

Within two minutes, Crosod was dead: tracked to the Plane of Shadow, and butchered methodically, unceremoniously, and with surprisingly little effort.


**


"Nhura will, no doubt, be reconsidering her options." Shomei closed her eyes and drank deeply from a crystal goblet, allowing the firewine to course through her veins and causing her head to spin.

"Koilimilou used a _limited wish_ in order to _teleport_," Mostin sighed. "That could prove tedious – Irknaan may have used the same tactic. I suspect that she has joined Nhura and the other group. Still, if I were the Lillend, I would secure reinforcements before proceeding."

"I agree," Eadric nodded. "We are far from safe, but the Wyrm has been eliminated – frankly, he was my biggest concern. His sheer destructive potential was unmatched. The demon, of Soneillon’s ilk – _chthonic_, Shomei called it: what is its power?"

"That is hard to gauge," Mostin admitted. 

"And the other? The ‘unknown?’ Does it remain so?"

Mostin nodded. "But, whatever it is, it cannot be _that_ fearsome – or else we would have been assailed already. I am reluctant to _scry_ them unless we intend to attack immediately afterwards. If they are warded – which seems likely – then a sensor may be ineffective in any case. When I discerned Nhura’s location she was three hundred miles away to the northeast, over Einir. The _web of motes_ revealed Nhura, the Demon, the other creature, and nine more Loquai ‘stalwarts’ in that cluster. Koilimilou has, doubtless, joined them."

"How long before they reach us, assuming we don’t intercept them?"

"Six hours, maybe," Shomei answered. "But they may need to rest – even the griffons cannot fly tirelessly."

"The question is simple," Ortwin said. "Do we engage them here, or en route?"

"I favour the former," Nwm said. "We need to replenish our flagging reserves. Let them come. We will be ready for them. We should rest in the chapel. If they _teleport_ here, it will be at great cost to them, in ineffective pairs or trios. And they will not fly in anytime soon."

"Why?" Eadric asked.

"Because I am going to conjure a large storm," Nwm replied. "So I suggest that you close your windows."

"The enchantment, upon the devas and myself…" Eadric began.

"I will _disjoin_ it," Mostin sighed. 

"Ahh, _free will_ will be yours again, Ed," the Satyr said sarcastically. "Now, whatever happens, you have only yourself to blame."

Eadric scowled.








*Qiseze, the Fire Savant slain by Feezuu. Feezuu herself was, of course, subsequently killed by Mostin.

**Mostin had used a _discern location_ to pinpoint Crosod some thirty minutes beforehand, but had opted not to use the mirror to _scry_ him – it was likely that most of the enemy would detect the sensor, and react accordingly. Nwm used his torc to determine their path – there was much to-ing and fro-ing using the mirror, as the party assumed a favorable position. The mountains were chosen because they would afford a useful vantage for the archers, and were away from both forests and inhabited areas.


The two legendary eagles were very seriously buffed – _animal growth_, _bear’s heart_, _greater magic fang_, _expeditious retreat_ and _nature’s avatar_. I didn’t realize quite how dangerous they could be until this encounter – their melee attacks were at +40 something, and they were dishing out 30 points of damage or more with each attack.




Yet more of Soneillon’s unreasonable Epic spells. She was under the influence the _Renewal of Purpose and Desire_, routinely invoked by her every month when she is in Throile – essentially a highly excessive buff spell. The _Renewal_ involves the input of the four chief sorcerer-succubi who serve Soneillon. The compulsion afflicting Eadric and the devas, I had dubbed _Do What I Will_ – a nod to the overt Crowleyanity which sometimes pervades the game.



*Renewal of Purpose and Desire*
Transmutation

Spellcraft DC: 34
Components: V,S, XP, Ritual
Casting Time: 10 minutes
Range: Personal
Target: You
Duration: 672 hours

To Develop: Seed: Fortify (DC 17), Ward (DC 14). Factors: increase Cha bonus by +19 (+38 DC); increase duration by 3250% (+65 DC); gain +30 on caster level check to beat foe’s _dispel_ effect (+60 DC); ward against _disjunction_ (+16 DC). Mitigating factors: increase casting time by 9 minutes (-18 DC); four other casters contributing 7th level slots (-56 DC); change from target to personal (-2 DC); burn 10,000 XP (-100 DC).

In a brief rite conducted every month (when the moon is new on the Prime Plane), the caster renews her focus and the ability to exercise her Will. She gains a +20 enhancement bonus to Charisma which lasts for one month – until the next invocation of _Renewal of Purpose and Desire_. 

The spell itself enjoys a +30 bonus on the caster level check when targeted by _dispel_ effects directed at it – effectively negating the bonus offered by _superb dispelling_. It otherwise requires two _disjunctions_ to counter the _Renewal of Purpose and Desire_ – the first eliminates the _ward_ component of the spell, the second counters the enhancement bonus itself.


*Do What I Will*
Enchantment (Compulsion) [Mind-Affecting]

Spellcraft DC: 40
Components: None
Casting Time: 1 quickened action
Range: 75 ft.
Area: 20-ft. radius sphere
Duration: 23 hours 20 minutes
Saving Throw: Will negates
Spell Resistance: Yes 

To Develop: Seeds: Compel (DC 19); Contact (DC 23). Factors: Quickened spell (+28 DC); no verbal or somatic components (+4 DC); dismissible by caster (+2 DC); increase duration by 600% (+24 DC); change from target to 20 ft. radius area (+10 DC); compel unreasonable course of action (+10 DC); Increase spell’s saving throw DC by +10 (+20 DC); Mitigating factor: burn 10000 XP.

The caster establishes an immediate telepathic bond with all creatures within the area of effect and issues a silent mental command forcing them to do her bidding. Each target is allowed a Will saving throw (DC 30 + relevant modifier) in order to resist the effect. 

Once the compulsion is established, the caster may exercise her Will and telepathically command each of those affected – either singly or jointly – to perform actions as she sees fit. Distance is not a factor. Issuing subsequent commands is a free action, although only one such command may be given in any round. Even instructions which would normally result in the death of those affected by _Do What I Will_ are followed to the letter.


----------



## Felix

Damn you, Sepulchrave, damn you.

I got up a 5 this morning.
I rowed crew for two hours.
I worked on my campaign setting for two more hours.
I went to the gym and lifted.
I swam a mile.
I had a big dinner.
I am absurdly tired. 

And now you decided to post an update.

And I *must* read. 

Damn you.


----------



## Spatula

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> *Nwm, seething with powerful magic, broke upon Crosod at full speed, his immense claws and beak puncturing scales, muscle and sinew upon the Wyrm?s back. Shomei gaped from her vantage point as she watched the Roc pluck the writhing Dragon from the air, and toss him with contemptuous ease against a jagged pilon of stone which reared nearby, smashing it to pieces. Threxu gripped onto Crosod?s foreleg desperately, but was flung clear.*



    Truly     Epic.

Thanks for the extra-long update, Sepulchrave.


----------



## Black_Kaioshin

Wow!! I'm amazed! After the last encounter with the wyrm, I'm shocked that it was finished off that easily. But How was Nwm buffed?


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

*Easily*?  I count 3 8th level spells (3 Squamous pulses), and 4 9th level spells (2 meteor swarms, 2 nature's avatars) in use there, and that's just offensive spells (Mostin used a Discern Location).  I imagine the party got muchos XP from that, though


----------



## William Ronald

Magnificent.

Sepulchrave, I think you have captured the essence of epic adventures: world shaking action and deep philosophical thought.   Thanks for your efforts.  Good luck in purchasing a house.


----------



## Jumbie

Just when you think this story can't get any better, it does...

Simply magnificent!!

Congrats on the new house, but damn it from keeping us from this wonderful, gripping tale.


----------



## Celtavian

*re*

This story is quite entertaining. I am just about done with part 2 of the 8 grodog sent. I am becoming more entrenched in the story as it goes on. The characters themselves, though interesting, are not the driving force of the story so much as the milieu. It is really quite extraordinary. You have really built a very intriguing world around a religion that is both familiar and unique at the same time. Kudos on the world buiding. I'm glad I finally joined the masses of readers who follow this story fanatically.


Sepulchrave, 

One important question, while reading your story I became enamored of a certain idea inherent in the religion of Saizhan. I was wondering if you mind if I borrow a certain element and rule you use to build upon a certain religious group in my campaign.

If you would like to read it before you ok the use of any of your campaign rules in another campaign world, please e-mail me at 

amneth@mindspring.com 

It is very much my own idea, but you have a certain rule that I find appealing that would fit perfectly for this particular religion.


----------



## Cheiromancer

Check out Threxu and Crosod in the Rogue's Gallery.  R.I.P. and all that.    Serves me right for commissioning portraits of the bad guys. 

Brilliant story.  I love the way that poor Eadric is being tempted.  What *is* it with him and succubi, anyway?


----------



## Joshua Randall

*Wyre Loose Ends*

I've been re-reading the entire Wyre saga and have noticed some loose ends that never got tied up. Perhaps Sepulchrave plans to use these later?
Hullu the former-mercenary and Melancholy the Slaadi blade could be getting into all sorts of trouble. 
Also, whatever became of Messiskami?
Did the Ueddians continue their uprising, or were they placated with lower taxes?
Technically, Ortwin owes fealty to Ulao (who is Iua's djinni father). Will Ortwin ever be called on to fulfill his feudal obligations?
While visiting Magathei, Ortwin met a nasty sidhe (whose name escapes me) - perhaps this fellow knows something about the Loquai? Or not?
Isn't there still a Balor on the loose?
Not to mention Rimilin of the Skin - has he ever been called to account? *Edit - yes he was. But what about Griel, and the other evil wizard who was calling demons?*
I'm not expecting total plot consistency in what is, after all, a D&D game - just wondering if any of these threads are liable to be picked up later.


----------



## darkbard

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> *
> 
> "Let the Satyr continue," Mostin said. "This is interesting, and he may have a point. He is experiencing a rare moment of philosophical insight. Do not discourage him."
> 
> *




this had me laughing aloud.  great stuff!


----------



## tleilaxu

*Re: Wyre Loose Ends*



> _Originally posted by Joshua Randall
> [*]Not to mention Rimilin of the Skin - has he ever been called to account? *Edit - yes he was. But what about Griel, and the other evil wizard who was calling demons?*
> [/B]_



_

if my recall is correct rimilin has not been taken to account. he has disappeared along with the remaining balor (izro?)_


----------



## Sepulchrave II

> Hey Sep---
> 
> Any chance for an update soon, or are you still in the buying/moving phases of house-stuff?




I'm still in the _looking_ phase, and man, is it draining.

That said, I'll post an update in the next day or two.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Church and Steeple - Part 1*


The chapel at Kyrtill’s Burh was a compact space, perhaps twenty-five feet in its longest dimension, which abutted the main keep. Like the rest of the castle, its exterior – recently repaired by Nwm’s efforts – was smothered in an ivy of an unusually prolific variety, which required continual management and pruning. And pruning seldom happened within the Burh.

There were two entrances to the sanctuary: a pair of stout oak double-doors which led into the courtyard, close to the archway at the base of the Steeple; and a smaller lintel, constructed of steel, which joined the portico in the keep proper. The metal door was hidden in a concave, behind the plain white arras which formed a backdrop to the altar space – raised upon a low dais reached by three shallow steps. The area below the dais was clear, except for a thick carpet some twenty feet long which stretched to the main doors, two low benches, and a dozen or so prayer cushions – some of which were extremely threadbare.

Ortwin sat in the centre of the floor, uncharacteristically tense. He disliked the chapel for a number of reasons, not the least of which was the draught – barely noticeable – which issued from beneath the floor covering: cold air from the crypt, finding its way through cracks in the flagstones. Nwm had specifically instructed the gnomes who had restored the rest of the keep’s interior to leave the chapel untouched: it was Eadric’s sanctum, and the Druid had felt that it would have been the worst breach of etiquette to engage in unapproved remodeling. Whilst Eadric appreciated the gesture, he had privately wished that Nwm _had_ done something about the chapel. The austerity which had marked his earlier years had given way to a more balanced outlook, and sometimes comfort was no bad thing. Somehow, the chapel hadn’t caught up with him.

The Satyr grumbled about the cold. "Can’t we light a fire or something?" He watched as Shomei placed a _dimensional lock_ in the centre of the sanctuary, barring all forms of extraplanar movement. The Infernalist had already invoked a _screen_ upon the whole of Kyrtill’s Burh – it appeared as nothing more than a rugged outcrop of rock to magical scrutiny.

Eadric sighed. "Perhaps if you ask Mostin nicely, he will modify the temperature."

"Why are we here, anyway?" Ortwin continued. "Doesn’t the place need to be reconsecrated or something? I seem to recall there being a demoness of some power in here several hours ago."

"Yes," Eadric sighed, "it does. It is still the most defensible place in the keep, however."

"Consecration is highly advisable," Mostin said morbidly. "The Succubus might be tempted to turn your dead relatives into vampires."

"That is in particularly poor taste," Eadric replied nervously. "But you have a point. I will send to Morne for someone to come here as soon as possible. Probably Asser. Unless Nwm would care to do the honours*?"

"I had assumed that you would require someone of ‘true faith’ to perform the rite."

"I am more flexible in that regard than I was previously, as the definition of ‘true’ is now revealed to be somewhat ambiguous."

"Perhaps Mostin could _gate_ a solar," Ortwin suggested. "It could perform the necessary magic, and would be a reassuring presence."

"For you maybe," Mostin said acidly. "And I am not sure that Gihaahia’s  subsequent punitive visit here would contribute to the sanctity of the place. We are safe enough for the moment, barring Soneillon herself – and I suspect that there is _no_ precaution which we could take that would bar her if she were determined."

"If you had prepared a _magnificent mansion_…" Ortwin began.

"Or if _you_ had spent your time studying magic instead of fornicating and drinking firewine," Mostin snapped irritably. "We will be fine. Those hideous cohorts of Eadric are outside keeping guard. Ungrateful creatures. At least they could of thanked me for dispelling their paralysis."

"They are grateful," Eadric reassured him. "But tend to communicate little. I was surprised that Soneillon didn’t destroy them."

"She is wooing you," Nwm said wrily. "Killing celestials would make a bad impression, I’m sure."

"So is he safe?" Ortwin asked, with a wicked grin, "Or will she invade his dreams and cause him to experience impure thoughts?"

Mostin shrugged. "Good question. Technically, the _dimensional lock_ should prevent a creature in dream-form from gaining ingress. I say _technically_ because she may have tricks that we do not know of. And  Dream is odd, to say the least."

"In ‘dream-form?’" Ortwin persisted. "You mean she may be nearby?"

"Coterminous? Why not?"

"She is not," Eadric said. "At least, not _very_ near. The Eye of Palamabron would reveal her if she were."

Ortwin smiled sarcastically and scratched his haunch. "Then your thoughts will remain pure! How blessed you must feel! You must teach me the secret someday."

Eadric sighed. Ortwin was beginning to get on his nerves. He closed his eyes, and experienced the frustration. He sighed again, stood up, and walked towards the doors.

"Er, where are you going, Ed?" Ortwin asked.

"The Steeple," Eadric replied.

"Excellent idea! You have a stash of fine firewine, and…"

"Alone, Ortwin. I am going alone."

"Oh." 

Mostin _mind blanked_ him first.


**


Outside, the wind had picked up and the rain had begun to fall. Nwm’s storm – as promised – had arrived, and Eadric hoped that it wouldn’t prove _too_ violent. He ascended sixty of the seventy-seven steps of the Steeple, passing through a small door into the chamber situated below the open roof. 

It was a comfortable space – once a round guard room, but since adapted to the function of a parlour. During the garrisoning of Kyrtill’s Burh, it had briefly enjoyed a return to its original function, although the Templars stationed there had done nothing to alter its furnishings. A single window of lead glass in the west wall admitted the remaining light of the failing day. The room, and those below it, had been those ‘rented’ by Mostin in his attempts to fabricate a plausible story following his violation of the first Injunction – before the Claviger had acquiesced to act as the guardian of the moral fibre of Wyre’s Wizards.

Eadric lit an oil-lantern – the flame of which flickered unsteadily in the draught before he closed its shutter – threw off his armour, opened a tall cabinet, and retrieved a bottle of firewine. He smiled at the fact that Ortwin knew where he kept it – and poured himself a small glass. He was mildly amused that it should still feel such an indulgence to him: he had violated so many of his vows that ignoring the precept which warned against alcohol seemed utterly trivial in comparison.

Sitting on one of the three narrow pallets which served as the room’s couches, Eadric set Lukarn down next to himself, reached into his belt-pouch, and retrieved a tiny piece of tightly-rolled parchment. He opened the lantern hood, and thrust the paper into the flame, holding it between his fingers and watching as it quickly burned to nothing.

Soon after, a _gate_ opened, and Titivilus stepped through. 

"Thank-you for your prompt response," Eadric said.

The Devil smiled laconically. "Hello, _Ahma_. I had hoped to run into you in Afqithan but, alas, you fled before we had a chance to speak. If you had answered my _sending_ then things may have advanced at a faster pace for you."

"I was reluctant to place myself in your hands at that time," Eadric raised an eyebrow. "And who would arbitrate between the arbiter and his client?"

"I have a friend called Furcas who might volunteer in that capacity," the Duke replied caustically.

"You have friends? That surprises me."

"You are correct," Titivilus answered. "In fact, I despise him. But we are working together for the moment. This is a cosy little chamber. I almost prefer it to your study in the keep."

Eadric narrowed his eyes, unsure of whether the Devil jibed him or not. "I require advice, and perhaps mediation. If there is a price, then I would be grateful if you informed me of it prior to further communication."

"There is no price, _Ahma_," Titivilus replied easily. "Although my perspective is a little different from yours, and the advice I give may not necessarily be that which you seek. As both the voice of your conscience and your divinely ordained tempter, I have more than one agenda to maintain. I presume that your inquiry concerns the demoness Soneillon?"

Eadric sighed, and nodded.

"She is something, is she not?" Titivilus laughed. "And, I should say, she is _nothing_, if you understand my meaning. It was whispered in the narrow streets of Zelatar that she could bring a corpse to orgasm – forgive me, _Ahma_, I do not wish to offend your sense of propriety. I am sure that your interest in Graz’zt’s former concubine is purely pragmatic."

"You know her then? You have met her?"

"Perhaps. I do not recall." Titivilus replied vaguely.

"She is a potential ally," Eadric said.

"So I hear," Titivilus smiled.

"Does Graz’zt know of her interest in me?"

"Graz’zt has an extensive network of spies, but he is ultimately ill-informed and disorganized. I would hazard that he does not, but I make no assurances to that effect."

"If a confrontation occurs between the Prince and myself, I would – if possible – prefer to keep it out of Wyre and the World of Men. Do you think Afqithan would be a suitable locale?"

"It offers greatly augmented magic. Mostin – and Shomei, to whom, incidentally, you should extend my warmest regards – would benefit from this. As would Graz’zt himself, of course. I suspect that the risks would be greater, but the possibility of victory higher."

"Soneillon has powerful allies – and dangerous, it seems. She denies direct association with them, or rather seems reluctant to admit responsibility for their actions."

"This is not unusual for a Demon Queen," Titivilus replied drily.

"She subjected me to an extremely powerful compulsion. Could a _mind blank_ have warded me?"

"Perhaps, although doubtless she possesses dweomers that can circumvent such magic. For a creature of her age, with her power, what can she _not_ do, _Ahma_? Magic is formulaic, and in practical terms holds a finite – albeit astronomically large – set of possibilities. There might be a quintillion combinations which she is technically capable of manifesting alone. If she has unlocked merely a hundred thousand of them – the most efficient, given a certain set of circumstances – how versatile do you think that makes her?"

Eadric swallowed. The Devil’s premise was plausible. "And Graz’zt? Could the same be said?"

"To a lesser degree. He possesses more raw native power, but lacks that which Soneillon draws freely and most heavily upon – _unbeing_. I do not claim to fully understand it."

Eadric stared hard at Titivilus. "You are unusually forthcoming. I wonder which of your numerous agendas you are serving by sharing this information."

The Duke of Hell smiled.

"I have other questions," Eadric said unsurely, "and I would be interested in hearing your perspective – or the _Adversarial_ perspective, if you are towing a particular line. I should also, at this point, like to seek further assurances that there are no hidden fees, contracts, compacts, reciprocal obligations or responsibilities involved." 

Titivilus raised an eyebrow. "Your caution is admirable, _Ahma_, but you are somewhat over-concerned. Ask away! There is no obligation upon you."

"The Marilith Nufrut mentioned an entity named _Carasch_. Mostin was unaware of its existence. A balor which fell within the orbit of the Ancient Void, and then rose from it again. Is the name familiar to you?"

"Yes," Titivilus answered. He seemed unperturbed, but Eadric knew that gauging the Confuser’s true reaction was close to impossible.

"What distinguishes one fiend from the next, insofar as some possess the ability to withstand annihilation?"

Titivilus laughed. "That is more profound than you understand. I do not _know_, Ahma. Perhaps they are endowed with a particular strength of Will which sets them apart from their peers. Perhaps they are lucky. Perhaps they apprehend some greater Truth which allows consciousness to persist, even in the face of nonexistence."

"Such an entity," Eadric continued, "Carasch. It would be as far removed from Rurunoth as Soneillon is from a succubus of the least stature."

"That is probably a reasonable parallel."

"How many of these entities – _chthonics_, as Shomei dubbed them – would you say exist?"

"I am not privy to that information," Titivilus admitted.

Eadric scowled. "Would you even hazard a guess? A handful? Dozens? Thousands? Millions?"

"I would not know, _Ahma_. I suspect we are talking in terms of relative infinities. How many fell from grace? How many fled to the Abyss? How many were enmeshed in the Ancient’s power? Mere numbers cease to have meaning, after a certain point."

"Why is no reference made to them in texts – legitimate, heretical, magical or otherwise? I use those descriptors loosely – I do not wish to engage in a debate on the nature of heresy."

"Certain names and concepts are taboo. Unbeing, Demogorgon, existent nonexistence – this is an example of such. Before the Church of Oronthon was established, when it was still a tribal religion whose God vied with a dozen others – this was a taboo. It persisted."

"_Saizhan_ addresses this issue."

"_Saizhan_ claims to address many issues.’

"Is Oronthon then rewriting the past? Changing the Truth of what has gone before?"

"That is one possible interpretation. I do not doubt there are others."


**


Mostin sat and leered at the effigy upon the altar – an eagle rearing above a solar orb – and felt a frisson of disgust at the avian symbol.

Nearby, Shomei sat in a contemplative trance, Ortwin snored loudly, and Iua – silent as a cat – practiced with her rapier, repeating maneuvers endlessly, each time with subtle variations on a complex theme. Nwm, apparently enraptured with the Green, paid no heed to any other.

The Alienist groped within his _portable hole_ and retrieved an ornate box of carved wood from among the objects stored there. Opening it, he pulled the contents – a stone slab – from its red silk wrappings, and set it upon the rug in front of him.

Mostin closed his eyes, focussed inwards, and inspected his valences: nested shells which grew outwards from a central hub, rapidly blurring into an indistinct haze where no differentiation yet existed. He placed his mind beyond the order, beyond the haze, in the swirling, chaotic morass which surrounded it.

Tiny buds of potential were burgeoning, seeking to make contact with each other and the hub of consciousness at the centre. Deliberately, he focussed upon them, drawing on his reservoir. His mind opened like a sluice, pouring its contents forth. Rapidly, the buds blossomed gloriously, and bore fruit which ripened in a heartbeat. He shook, and sweated profusely.

The Alienist turned his attention to the tablet in front of him, his eyes scanning over it, and his fingertips tracing the etchings and designs upon it. There was a sudden _crack_, as the slab shattered, and the sound of grinding stone. An eddy of wind arose, and all that was left before him – a  pile of dust – was blown across the floor of the chapel.

Shomei observed him with a mixture of envy and mirth.

"Congratulations," the Infernalist said drily.

"Thank-you," Mostin replied. "How long before you…?"

"A week at most. I had hoped to beat you to it."

"Hah! No chance. This means that I am – if only for a brief while – the most potent spellcaster in Wyre, and the first in two generations to achieve this notable achievement. I don’t include Mulissu in that statement – she is not native, and doesn’t count."

Nwm smiled quietly, but said nothing. 


*

As Mostin sat and contemplated the spell called _Graz’zt_ – designed by Fillein-who-would-later-be-Jovol in the heyday of his power and influence – he shifted uncomfortably. Something was amiss. Within the perfectly executed formula which comprised the spell, there was no room for error: each component and factor was optimized for an efficiency of purpose which Mostin deeply appreciated, both functionally and aesthetically.

_Fifty-five years. The Prince was bound for fifty-five years, if the stories are true. Why? Why was he not bound permanently? The dweomer indicates no provision for an expiry._

"I am uneasy," he whispered to Shomei. 

"I am tired, Mostin. If you are having an episode of paranoia, then talk to Nwm."

"This is _important_," the Alienist hissed. Nearby, Ortwin grunted in response, and turned over in his sleep. Mostin resumed a quieter voice. "The spell which now resonates in my mind preoccupies me. There is an inconsistency."

Shomei yawned and gestured impatiently.

"The incarceration should have been _permanent_. Why was it not? According to tradition he was bound for fifty-five years. This leads me to three possible conclusions, none of which are particularly pleasant to entertain: One, the effect ‘wore off’ over time; two, the spell contains a flaw in its formula which I cannot perceive; or, three, he was released by someone."

Shomei raised an eyebrow. "I see your dilemma. Magic of this magnitude is enduring, and I find it hard to accept the first solution. Fillein was a perfectionist beyond compare, rendering the second answer even less likely. I would opt for the third possibility, or a fourth which you have not considered."

"Which would be?"

"I do not _have_ a fourth solution, Mostin. I am merely pointing out that it would be premature to discount the possibility of its existence. I think that he was probably released."

"By whom?"

"Who can tell now, Mostin? It was three hundred years ago. A rival mage?"

"Fillein – or Jovol – was – or is – without peer. He had – or has – no rival. Was he in possession of the _web of motes_ at that time? If so, surely he would have anticipated the possibility in any case."

"Then one of the cabal? Or Fillein himself, maybe, for whatever unknown reasons motivated him. This is idle speculation. We cannot _know_. They are all dead and gone."

"Hlioth remains," Mostin pointed out.

"Hlioth is deranged, but not stupid. Why would she release the Prince of Azzagrat? And if so, why did he not eliminate her afterwards?"

Nwm interrupted unexpectedly. Neither of the Wizards had been aware that he had been paying attention. "If she released Graz’zt, then I commend her actions. Such creatures have no place in this world, bound or not. Rurunoth was bad enough, but a Demon Prince?"

"Then she is most inconsistent," Mostin pointed out. "She participated in the binding of the Enforcer."

"To prevent further _summonings_ in Wyre," Nwm smiled. "Didn’t that clause in Jovol’s Injunction ever strike you as odd, Mostin? Why do you think it was singled out, above and beyond the ban upon mages assaulting other mages?"

"Because of the circumstances prior to it," the Alienist replied. "There were too many _bindings_, too many _gates_ opening. The possibility of too many more."

"Too many for what?" Nwm asked.

"For the established order to sustain," Mostin admitted. "But if you are somehow intimating that your Goddess insisted upon including a clause in the Injunction which would prevent further offense to her…"

"You are trapped in discursive thought – Uedii is a consciousness of what is Natural, not some other being ‘out there.’ Jovol was a Dreamer, who negotiated with Celestials, protected both Eadric and Tramst, acted in the interests of maintaining a peace, and directed the _binding_ of an atavism from a previous reality. He was nothing, if not eclectic. I think you underestimate the scope of his vision."

"Hmph!" Mostin muttered. "Anyway. If we attempt to _bind_ the Prince anytime soon, it will not be here. I have already given thought to it."

Shomei sighed, as Mostin proceeded to explain about permanent _dimensional locks_, pocket demiplanes and spells which foiled all perception.







*All of Kyrtill’s Burh was consecrated by Tahl, and the chapel _hallowed_. Soneillon dispelled the effect in the chapel before dominating Eadric and the guardians. I use the ToH version of Movanic Devas (more martial, less magical), so _hallow_ was not available to the celestials in order to restore the chapel.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

*Church and Steeple - Part 2*


Nhura uttered a string of black profanities when she received the news from Koilimilou that Crosod had fled back to Shadow, and was, by now, probably dead. The hunting party descended into the woods of Hethio, two leagues from the ancient dolmens at Groba. A madness fell upon the birds and animals as they fled from the umbral sidhe and the creatures which accompanied them: griffons, the chthonic _thing_, and the Lamia Jetheeg – another sorceress of no mean ability. Koilimilou was incapable of subsequently _scrying_ the Wyrm, which only made his death seem that much more likely. Threxu’s demise was all but certain.

Frustrated, and aware of the fact that it might prematurely attract undue attention, Nhura nonetheless instructed Koilimilou to _scry_ Eadric of Deorham. Although the Lillend was aware of the general location of the _Ahma_’s stronghold, a lock upon him and a subsequent _clairvoyance_ would pin him down. The Cambion’s efforts drew a blank.

Nhura cursed, and ordered Koilimilou to call and bind as many demons as she was capable of. A bitter argument ensued, but Koilimilou finally relented. Previously, she and the Lillend might have been well-matched; but now Nhura wore Irknaan’s mantle, and was unassailable by any magic which the Cambion possessed. As dusk fell, under the Lillend’s watchful eye – lest she order the creatures to turn upon her Queen – Koilimilou struck a series of bargains with profanities against which the soil of Wyre heaved in revulsion. Throughout, Nhura was poised to invoke _destruction_ upon the Cambion if she spoke even a phrase out of turn.

Soneillon watched from behind a tree-trunk some fifty yards distant, hiding, _invisible_, and in the shape of a diminutive woodland spirit.  
She had not anticipated Nhura’s determination, nor the resources at the Lillend’s command – albeit vicariously. Neither had the Succubus considered the lengths to which Nhura would go in order to assert her claims to Afqithan – in her retinue were knights loyal to Samodoquol and Menicau, and they needed to be suitably impressed. 

The Queen of Throile passed into the unconscious world again, and returned her attention to Eadric. The mental landscape of dreamers in Hethio was fraught with hideous nightmares, the significance of which none understood.


**


In the topmost chamber of the Steeple, the _Ahma_ sat closeted with Titivilus, probing the Infernal Duke on a variety of subjects, but retaining a healthy sense of scepticism with regard to any answers that he received. When they returned to the matter of Soneillon, Eadric stayed true to his words with Titivilus at their first meeting: he preserved a total honesty in communication. He was struck with the realization that whether the Devil adhered to the same premise was, in the final analysis, irrelevant.

"You would advise me to use her," Eadric said. "To slake my lust, draw upon her power, discard her when her utility has expired, and move on."

"That is what _I_ would do, _Ahma_. I am not you, however. I lack your moral baggage."

"You lack compassion."

"If you prefer," Titivilus sighed. "Although I thought we had already agreed as to its redundancy as an effective tool."

"That is because you also lack the ability to understand it," Eadric smiled.

"As your understanding of _compassion_ is obviously far more developed than mine," Titivilus laughed, "then perhaps you should also extend it to Graz’zt. And every other Demon and Devil between Azzagrat and Nessus. Set yourself up as a shining beacon of Love, _Ahma_, and watch as, no doubt, repentant fiends flock to your warm smile and welcoming arms. I will remain at the back of the line and observe as Astaroth and Moloch, like pubescent girls, shyly jostle for their places and anxiously think ‘will he choose me next?’ I think not."

"Your mockery does you no credit, Titivilus, and merely reveals the fear that you experience in the face of that which you no longer comprehend but secretly long to become reacquainted with. I am not crippled by my doubt, but draw strength it. You resent me, because I am mortal but still you are forced to acknowledge my spiritual authority. I see the limits of your perspective – the ‘Adversarial’ paradigm – and recognize the _partial_ truth which it contains. But you fail to transcend the dichotomy of total self-determination and absolute surrender to the Will of Oronthon: they are identical. Accompany me later to Morne, and I will introduce you to the _Sela_. I  guarantee your safety – I would happily defend your right to speak with him."

"No, thank-you," Titivilus replied calmly. "Although I’m sure I appreciate the offer. Maybe another time – in an aeon or two."

"The door to the Fane will remain open."

"And I will remain outside," the Devil finished. "Now, _Ahma_, before I grow weary of your proselytizing, and my mood becomes less accommodating, let us turn to ‘mediation.’ You are ready for me to act as a go-between in communicating with Soneillon?"

"I require the benefit of your perspective in order to better inform mine. You are adept at dealing with fiends, and penetrating their motives."

"That much is true," Titivilus smiled archly. "Am I to act as a chaperone to you also, lest you feel an uncontrollable urge to bed this demoness?"

"You have a singular sense of humour."

"And your track history speaks for itself. Nonetheless, my raillery may be pertinent – Soneillon is said to possess a peculiar way of eliciting sympathy."

"So I have discovered," Eadric said wrily.

"Now?"

"Now," the Paladin nodded.

Titivilus issued a _sending_. Three seconds later, Soneillon manifested. Dreamstuff swirled briefly around her – nightmares and visions of horror, which rapidly faded to nothing in the waking world. As before, her form – that of a Trempan peasant-girl – evoked a complex reaction in Eadric, despite a knowledge that it was entirely superficial.  


*

"Charmed, I’m sure," Titivilus bowed with mock politeness.

"Is there any particular reason why I should not extinguish this gnat?" The Succubus asked the Paladin. 

"If I thought it would carry any weight," Eadric replied, "then I would say ‘because he is divinely mandated.’ As I know that you recognize no such authority, I will simply say ‘because I ask you not to.’ I have requested the services of Titivilus as an arbiter. He is, in a manner of speaking, my guardian angel – albeit a fallen one."

"I may have misjudged Oronthon’s sense of the absurd. This monster is hardly a disinterested party, Eadric. Still, he risks much by being here alone – I wonder how he is being recompensed. Where are Murmuur and Furcus, Devil? Three together might pose a challenge to me, but one alone is an easy target."

"Alas, they lack my boldness and appetite for adventure," Titivilus replied, "and my legal expertise," he added.

Soneillon tilted her head inquisitively. "You wish for a formal compact then, Eadric?"

Eadric shook his head. "I wish for a third opinion – however partial. I am also highly dubious of the extent to which you would regard any compact as binding. You seem oblivious to most other established fiendish conventions."

Soneillon moved closer, and her eyes bored into Eadric. "You are perceptive. I wonder if Nehael recognized your potential for transcendence when she was first attracted to you, or she saw you merely as a redeemer and was romantically fixated? She was always somewhat idealistic."

Eadric squinted. "What do you know of her?"

"I knew _all_ of the succubi in Graz’zt’s harem, Eadric. And the mariliths, the lamias, and every other shade of fiendish slut that he could lay his hands on. Each bitch is more wicked and depraved than the last, although, no doubt, each has her charms. When one spends a million years as his chief concubine, there isn’t much that one doesn’t discover."

"And you, Queen Soneillon?" Titivilus asked with an amused expression. "How wicked and depraved are you? I would almost say the wickeder, the better, from the _Ahma_’s perspective. He has a powerful urge to heal, you know. It continues to lead him into all kinds of trouble."

"I will tolerate your presence, but will brook neither innuendo nor veiled insults, Devil. This creature is a viper, Eadric – do not let his apparent openness and easy mannerisms deceive you. His only goal is your damnation, and if he can use me as a vehicle to achieve it then all the better for him."

Titivilus was about to speak, but Eadric held up his hand to stay him. "My circumstances are unusual," the Paladin said to Soneillon. "And it would seem that established mores do not apply to me. Somehow, I have been appointed a role in determining what is right from what is wrong, although I fail yet to fully understand my place in the new order. Damnation itself may be an outmoded concept – _Saizhan_ is beyond such categories."

"You will be your own judge, Eadric. You know this. Who could be harsher?"

Eadric swallowed. He felt distinctly uncomfortable. Despite her subtleties, Soneillon seemed to possess an uncanny knack for presenting stark truths in uncompromising terms. 

"I do not understand what motivates you," Eadric said.

"That is part of my appeal," she replied. "I am disappointed that you severed the connection between us: had the spell I wrought not been negated, you could have met me in Dream. What do you fear?"

"His lust confuses him," Titivilus said, "and he is unused to acting for the simple purpose of sensory gratification. Evil and pleasure are intimately connected in the _Ahma_’s mind: Temple conditioning is hard to shake off, even when one is the Breath of God."

"The Devil’s words have some merit," Eadric nodded. "I would also add, however, that Dream is something which I have little understanding of. In Afqithan, the Duke offered to act as a mediator between myself and the Loquai and their allies – I assume that he included you in the equation. I refused him for the same reason that I was dubious of encountering you in Dream – it was not a familiar environment. I prefer reality to be more tangible – there are enough variables to deal with already."

"That is a specious argument," Soneillon smiled, "but, as I have said, I am no philosopher and prefer not to be drawn into ontological debate. It would be a terrible thing if my intellect succeeded in denying the possibility of my own existence."

Eadric laughed despite himself, before staring at her with a mixture of wonder and suspicion: was her humour genuinely self-deprecating, or merely an affectation assumed for his benefit?

"We should address the question of Graz’zt," the lightness in the Demoness’s tone had vanished. "Are you now ready to hear the worst?"

"I don’t understand."

"Nehael, Eadric. Do you wish to know what has become of her?"

_Be careful, _Ahma_, she lies almost as well as I._

"No doubt you will take a perverse pleasure in relaying this information," Eadric sighed.

_I do not take my pleasure thus, sweet Eadric._ "Nehael is currently held in a cell of adamant, deep below Zelatar, in immensely powerful magical bonds, and subjected to pain that you cannot begin to comprehend – Graz’zt is particularly skilled and inventive in these matters. She is guarded by the Nalfeshnee Trakkao – who administers punishment on the Prince’s behalf." Soneillon’s expression was one that, if offered by any other, the Paladin would have interpreted as genuine empathy and sorrow.

_This whore is outrageous!_

"Proceed," Eadric said coldly, scowling at Titivilus. He was beginning to feel sick.  

"Violation of the body is only the beginning, Eadric. There is a limit to the trauma that even Demonic flesh –  once fashioned of Empyrean stuff – can  sustain before it loses all ability to renew itself. And Nehael is fragile – she has already relinquished much of the strength that was native to her. Little of her as you remember her remains, and her physical form has been stripped away: she consists now largely of _essence_. As to the integrity of her personality, who can tell? He may have broken her altogether. Prolonged pain of that magnitude often leads to madness and evil – such is the way of things."

"I fail to see what benefit relaying this information conveys to anyone."

"You should be prepared for the worst, Eadric," Soneillon answered. "She may be unrecognizable – not merely her form, but _who_ she is. I would not keep this information from you, and later hear that you were deceived or misled by me."

Titivilus raised an eyebrow.

Outside, the storm raged.

Eadric looked at Soneillon. "I would request a brief moment to confer with my counsellor."

The Demoness nodded, and casually lay down upon one of the narrow pallets, lazily stretching her arms above her head.


**


Within the sanctuary, Nwm sat motionless, his perception reaching outwards through the weather system that he himself had conjured, and rapidly engaging in a series of penetrating mental glances towards his environment.

Eadric was masked from his faculties, but the creatures who were near him were not.  Titivilus appeared to the Druid’s inner vision as a familiar set of dissonances which, when combined, left no doubt in Nwm’s mind as to the identity of the Devil. The other outsider – which defied conventional classification – seemed to be a shadow of the real, a fantasy which eluded direct scrutiny, but whose presence could be inferred by its effects on the Green in its vicinity. Soneillon, Nwm mused.

He furrowed his brow in concern. Eadric was playing with high stakes. Attempting to force some epiphany, no doubt, or construct a radical synthesis which would inform his direction. 

The Druid found himself reflecting upon Jovol, the Injunction – both in letter and in spirit – and his own words to Mostin earlier that evening. A niggling doubt began to grow in his mind, quickly becoming an irritation with Eadric’s actions, and a realization that his own role in events had been too passive. The time for calculated inaction was passing.

Too many realities were in conflict, and the new one, offered by Tramst, did little to assuage Nwm’s concerns. _Saizhan_ was too cerebral for his liking, despite its claims of relevance and immediacy. It was as though the devotional heart of Oronthonianism – however distorted and misaligned – had been ripped out and replaced with a philosophy which elevated the dialectical process itself to deific significance. Not that the majority of Oronthon worshippers would even notice, Nwm thought. Most would continue with the rites that they had observed for several hundred years, oblivious to the fact that their incarnate deity – or, rather, one aspect of him, his ‘gnostic intellect’ (whatever that was) – had utterly refuted half a millennium of dogma.

Nehael had spoken to him long before of a ‘Middle Way’ which avoided the extremes which had characterized Oronthonian thought and practice – of _all_ thought and practice. Yet Nehael had rejected the Celestial Order a second time, when none other than Rintrah himself had offered to escort her back to Heaven. Uedii had calmly accepted her in the face of reason and expectation – an outsider to Nature’s order, admitted to her inmost secrets.

_Saizhan_. The Middle Way. The Dialectic. What had Eadric said that Titivilus named it? – Ahh, the ‘Path of Lightning.’ A suitably Left-handed spin on things. And Shomei had been moved on some level – but Shomei was Shomei, and carried her own fears and ghosts with her.

Somehow, Nehael was central – although, somewhere in the details, this had been conveniently forgotten. She had been the first to seek the reconciliation and transcendence of opposing Truths. She possessed a profound wisdom which the Druid missed.

Nwm sighed. If he understood the Green – and he was by no means certain of his own ability in that regard – then it would act accordingly through him. Would the tension between Oronthonianism and Uedii worship persist,  although on a more rarefied level? _Saizhan_ seemed to be a practice reserved for the educated classes. What relevance did it possess for a farmer, or for a trapper? What did they care for the much-vaunted ‘dialectic of negation?’ 

Retreat from the world into a life of contemplation was a luxury that few could afford, and was bought with the sweat and toil of Uediian peasants, however indirectly. The Church might be in the process of disestablishment, and its taxes lifted – as the _Ahma_ had promised – but its principal funds still derived from the contributions of wealthy aristocrats. And _their_ money was stolen from the farmers.

_I suppose I should speak with Tramst, at some point_, he thought. _Although I fail to see what he could tell me that I don’t already know. Still, I should give him a chance. I might be pleasantly surprised._

The Druid returned his attention to the Steeple, where the Green warped uneasily around the interlopers.

_I am sick of this. I am sick of _them_, being here, interfering._

He glanced at Mostin, who was fussing – attempting to arrange his padded mat to his satisfaction. Shomei was on the verge of sleep.

Nwm stroked his beard, and wondered how things would unfold.


**


_You are enamoured._

Somewhat. But it will pass. 

_You haven’t used Palamabron’s Eye to interrogate her._

She subscribes to a different Truth. What use would it be?

[Laughter]. _It is _your_ truth which matters to you, _Ahma_, not hers._

You are incorrect.

_Perhaps your lust blinds you._

No, it doesn’t, although it would be easier for you if it did. You are afraid of her. 

[Irritated]. _As should you be. She can annihilate you with a moment’s thought._

That is not what I meant. You are afraid of what she represents.

[Condescendingly]. _And what may that be, _Ahma?

An escape from the prison that you have created for yourself.

_Your moralizing is becoming tedious, _Ahma. _Has she then escaped Oronthon as well? Has she placed herself beyond the infinite – _your_ view of the infinite. Is she outside of his purview? That sword cuts both ways, _Ahma_. What is not Oronthon?_

I will not be drawn into monistic thought.

_You are avoiding the issue._

The issue is no longer a concern of mine. It is a road which leads nowhere. Now can we please consider the matter in hand – that of Soneillon. What is your opinion of her?

_You are projecting your view of Nehael onto the Queen of Throile, _Ahma_. You have been seduced by her eloquence, wit and her – not  inconsiderable – physical charm. You are confusing the two succubi in your mind. Both fly in the face of convention, and both have seized – or created – their own truth._

Are her words regarding Nehael’s current state plausible?

_Utterly plausible. This does not mean that they are entirely true, however._

Do you believe that she is deceiving me?

_If I told you either ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ then you would – quite rightly – question my motivation for doing so. I will therefore say ‘I do not know,’ although you might also suspect that I am withholding an answer for some unknown reason. In fact, I do _not_ know._

[Wrily] How hard it must be, to be Titivilus. Are there occasions when you speak the plain truth, and no-one believes you?

_If I speak the plain truth, then it is invariably in an effort to deceive, so the point is moot._

Would you advise a formal compact, in order to insure me against any ill will that she might bear towards me?

_As you pointed out yourself, she may not regard such an agreement as binding._

Does she have a history of compacting that you are aware of?

_I believe she prefers informal arrangements, such as with Irknaan._

That is not reassuring.

[Wickedly]_Of course, she may be attempting to avoid a compact precisely in order to give her greater latitude in her dealings with you later on._

Your mind is truly tortuous.

_Why thank-you, _Ahma.

*

"Have you reached a decision, Eadric? Will you trust me?"

"I will _never_ trust you Soneillon, because I will never understand you. You are both too alien and too human for comfort. I will, however, temporarily suspend my doubt – and possibly my better judgement. If you betray me – to death or perdition – then I will hold no ill-will towards you. The fault will be mine alone."

She smiled, and offered her hand. "Come with me. I will show you what we have to work with."

Eadric stepped backwards suspiciously. "Nhura is still loose. I must deal with her first – assuming that you still refuse to intervene and discourage her. I need time to prepare."

"This will take only a short while. I will return you in an hour or two."

The Paladin shot a glance towards Titivilus. The Devil’s face was totally impassive. 

Eadric groaned and, tentatively, reached out to touch her. She dissolved, and seemed to flow both into him and around him. 

The nightmares of demons – which raged all around – were impotent against the Void which cradled him, and bore him to Throile.


----------



## Nifft

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> Koilimilou struck a series of bargains with profanities against which the soil of Wyre heaved in revulsion.




What happened to the "no conjuring demons" part of the Interdict?

 -- Nifft


----------



## Darklone

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> *"Alas, they lack my boldness and appetite for adventure," Titivilus replied, "and my legal expertise," he added.*




Anyone needs a lawyer?


----------



## linnorm

I would venture that being an Outsider in Wyre under her own power the rules fail to apply.




			
				Nifft said:
			
		

> *
> 
> What happened to the "no conjuring demons" part of the Interdict?
> 
> -- Nifft *


----------



## Broccli_Head

*Unlurk Mode On*

I had a question that came up while I was reading your last two fabulous chapters int he Wyre Saga. 

How do the players react to compulsions? i.e. when they fail their _Will_ saves and are forced to do things that they wouldn't ever do willingly?

I can see how I as a player would be miffed if my morals were compromised and it was beyond my control. 

Thanks.

*Return to Lurk*


----------



## Joshua Randall

Dispater said:
			
		

> *Wohoo! *



Boy, you've got to be somewhat nervous when Dispater himself is reading this story. Now where is Belial?

On another subject, I was intrigued by Nym's perspective on the interlopers, Soneillon and Titivilus. If Nym were more powerful, might he try to simplify the equation by destroying one or both of them? (That's what I would do.)


----------



## Ridley's Cohort

_The Druid found himself reflecting upon Jovol, the Injunction – both in letter and in spirit – and his own words to Mostin earlier that evening. A niggling doubt began to grow in his mind, quickly becoming an irritation with Eadric’s actions, and a realization that his own role in events had been too passive. The time for calculated inaction was passing._ 

I have actually been a little surprised that Nwm has not stepped up to the plate earlier.  I expect Uedii _would_ have a strong opinion about Nehael being snatched away to another plane and non-being abominations frolicking around Wyre.  If you are the incarnation of what _is_ what would your relationship be with non-being?  I expect it would not be too friendly a relationship.


----------



## Olive

linnorm said:
			
		

> *I would venture that being an Outsider in Wyre under her own power the rules fail to apply.*




I'm pretty sure that's not true.


----------



## Jackylhunter

Well, you can't _SUMMON_ an outsider.  But since she translated herself to Wyre, she didn't break any rules.   Another thing, since Soneillon is a nonexsistant entity, is she really _THERE_?

Thank you so much Sep, let us know how the house hunting goes.

(BTW, We just found a new house in Boise, ID, now we're just trying to sell our current one in San Jose CA, So I feel your pain.)

-Jackylhunter


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Re: Injunction


The Injunction applies to _Wizards_ in Wyre - not sorcerers (from other planes, or otherwise) - hence Koilimilou is not subject to it. Nor are Clerics, Druids etc. 

Bear in mind that the quorum of great Wizards who acquiesced to Jovol: Mulissu, Shomei, Mostin, Tozinak, Waide, Hlioth, Daunton - did so in full knowledge of the Injunction's contents. It was really outside of their remit to extend it to other forms of magic, and probably would have caused all kinds of trouble if they'd tried (no, _Sela_, you may not _gate_ in that solar, or the Infernal will bite your head off).

Nwm's argument - that the Injunction doesn't go far enough - certainly has merit, though. Of course, others would argue that it goes _too_ far. The controversy surrounding it is far from over...


----------



## Olive

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> *The Injunction applies to Wizards in Wyre - not sorcerers (from other planes, or otherwise) - hence Koilimilou is not subject to it. Nor are Clerics, Druids etc. *




So the prohibition against attacking wizards doesn't apply to sorcorers? And the injunction against interfeering in politics doesn't apply to sorcerors?

Do you think this would work if sorcerors were more common in the campaign?


----------



## Dispater

Strange that wizards just diminished their own power and left the other classes unchecked... espescially sorcerers.


----------



## Olive

Dispater said:
			
		

> *Strange that wizards just diminished their own power and left the other classes unchecked... espescially sorcerers. *




I suspect that sorcerors didn't exist when the injunction was first created...


----------



## WizarDru

Olive said:
			
		

> *I suspect that sorcerors didn't exist when the injunction was first created... *




It's far more likely that Sorcerors, by and large, are neither as powerful nor as prevalent throughout Wyre as wizards are.  Even when the group first encounters him, Mostin is a known entity, a being of considerable repute.  Consider him, at that point, as being like, for example, Leonardo Da Vinci.  An eccentric with notable talents that has some favor at court, and is received with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.  They are learned, and either feared or sought after by the highest levels of society.

Sorcerors, however, have been only seen mostly as extraplanar oddities, for the most part.  Druids and clerics follow their own rules, and shun the trappings of power, for the most part.  Paladins, bards and others are too weak in the spellcasting department to be worthy of notice.  Furthermore, the paladins, clerics and druids are all bound by their own internal social and religious conventions.  The kind of rampant summonings war that two powerful wizards could invoke, should they dare, would not remotely resemble a conflict between clerics or uediian druids.  A cleric of Oronthon powerful enough to summon anything of consequence is equally likely to think twice before doing so.  A druid of Uedii would most likely be as concerned with the effects of summoning powerful creatures might be have ("_Yes, we drove the kuo-toa away...but the water elemental has flooded the valley, destroying the crops.  Was this a benefit?_")

In short, the wizards:

Have a blind spot where Sorcerors or Bards are concerned
Are generally far more powerful than any sorcerors that exist in Wyre
Are more than a little self-involved
Were more concerned about their own actions against each other than of the motivations of others
Were not concerned with the actions of other spellcasters, and in fact sought to avoid their ire
Were only concerned with the immediate locale of Wyre (a simple teleport spell avoids the Injunction)
Ultimately wanted to create a consequence that would influence future generations of their kind from repeating the mistakes of the past

The Injunction has changed the rules in Wyre, but there are still a variety of ways to bypass them...which is probably why Nwm thinks it doesn't go far enough.  Besides which sorcerors, generally, are not as varied in their talents as wizards...their limited spell selection generally limits them in terms of overall power outside of the combat arena.


----------



## Velenne

> [Wrily] How hard it must be, to be Titivilus. Are there occasions when you speak the plain truth, and no-one believes you?
> 
> _If I speak the plain truth, then it is invariably in an effort to deceive, so the point is moot._




LOL!  People were looking at me funny after I read this.  I love the Eadric-Titivilus conversations.


----------



## Jeremy

> "It would be a terrible thing if my intellect succeeded in denying the possibility of my own existence."




LOL 

That's rich.  

So now she's got him alone, in his home and she's in physical contact with him.  Nerves of steel man!  Will of Iron!


----------



## Mytholder

Jeremy said:
			
		

> *
> So now she's got him alone, in his home and she's in physical contact with him.  Nerves of steel man!  Will of Iron! *




< Ortwin >
That's not all that's stiff.
< /Ortwin >


----------



## Olive

WizarDru said:
			
		

> *It's far more likely that Sorcerors, by and large, are neither as powerful nor as prevalent throughout Wyre as wizards are *




all of this is true, but it has a lot to do with the fact that the injunction (the original one) was invented by Sep before sorcerors existed in the DnD rule set, before 3e.

Good discussion tho.


----------



## Joshua Randall

*Philosophical Joke*



> "It would be a terrible thing if my intellect succeeded in denying the possibility of my own existence."



Soneillon's quip reminds me of a philosphical joke:

René Descartes walks into a bar.

The bartender asks, "Care for a drink?"

Descartes replies, "I think not." And disappears.


----------



## WizarDru

Olive said:
			
		

> all of this is true, but it has a lot to do with the fact that the injunction (the original one) was invented by Sep before sorcerors existed in the DnD rule set, before 3e.
> 
> Good discussion tho.




Well, I was referring to the 'new' injunction, not the original one.  The original version was more of a social contract than anything else.  The original question had been "Why doesn't the Injunction (current) cover sorcerors?", when discussing how a sorceror had essentially violated the summoning act.

Technically, both injunctions may still be in effect, though I don't know if the wizards are still enforcing the original one.


----------



## Warrior Poet

Haven't been around in a while, but Wyre and its legends always pull me back.

Regardless of the ontological state of Wyre's various principal (and not so principal) residents, suffice it to say THIS STORY has TRANSCENDED!  It leaves me with no other words, or, perhaps more accurately, it leaves me with knowledge of the insufficiency of language to express what it evokes.

Or, rather, gaaaaaaahhhh ...

Warrior Poet


----------



## Thistleknot

I was looking up the Dracula Legend and stumbled across a website that had an  interesting entry. 

You can find it here: http://www.angelfire.com/realm/shades/demons/bookdevilsanddemons/ranksofhell.htm

Sonneillon  Demon of Hate (Michaelis)

Was this the basis of the current nemesis of Eadric and his friends, or did she come from somewhere else?

I was just curious.


----------



## Nifft

*The Injunction*



			
				Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> Re: Injunction
> 
> The Injunction applies to _Wizards_ in Wyre - not sorcerers (from other planes, or otherwise) - hence Koilimilou is not subject to it. Nor are Clerics, Druids etc.
> 
> Bear in mind that the quorum of great Wizards who acquiesced to Jovol: Mulissu, Shomei, Mostin, Tozinak, Waide, Hlioth, Daunton - did so in full knowledge of the Injunction's contents. It was really outside of their remit to extend it to other forms of magic, and probably would have caused all kinds of trouble if they'd tried (no, _Sela_, you may not _gate_ in that solar, or the Infernal will bite your head off).
> 
> Nwm's argument - that the Injunction doesn't go far enough - certainly has merit, though. Of course, others would argue that it goes _too_ far. The controversy surrounding it is far from over...




Interesting. I'm surprised that there were no Sorcerers of note native to Wyre who would have been willing to contribute.

Were the Wizards of Wyre aware of Sorcerers, and deliberately snubbed them / ignored them in the creation of the Injunction? If this is the case, it seems frankly insane. A rogue Sorcerer would be a more likely wild card than a rogue Wizard, who at least has to train somewhere.

Were the Wizards of Wyre unaware of Sorcerers? This also seems unlikely, since by that point you were using the ELH, and that post-dates your move to 3.0e.

Anyway, some questions about the nitty-gritty specifics of the arcane dichotomy in Wyre. All questions are posed with regard to avoiding unpleasant attention from a certain Infernal.

1) Can a Sorcerer use a Scroll written by a Wizard to summon demons?
2) Can a multi-class Sorc/Wiz summon demons, using only Sorcerer spells?
3) Can a multi-class Sorc/Wiz use write a scroll as a Wizard and read it as a Sorcerer?
4) Can a Sorcerer use a Scroll (or other spell-trigger or -completion) given to it by a Demon to summon more Demons?

I'm not sure if the current Injunction is sufficient to meet the threat to which it was a response, and I can't imagine Jovol _et al._ missing this aspect. From what I recall, they talked of deliberately limiting _arcane magic_, not of limiting one class' access to it. I would think that "other forms" meant divine magic -- not simply another way to  access the exact same spell list.

So, can Ortwin use a _Summon Monster VI_ scroll written by Mostin without fear of decapitation? Wouldn't that put an interesting look on the Metagnostic's face...

 -- Nifft


----------



## Greybar

quick note -
The assumption is that the Injunction's applicability to "wizards" means that same thing as the meta-game concept of the Wizard class.

The Injunction is now a living thing, so to speak.  Who know if it will not seek to expand its own purvue through interpretation of the Injunction...

john


----------



## Casti

*Sorceress*

I think that there are none or very few sorceress in Wyre. Atleast no one as mighty as to even compare to the wizards the injunction were meant for!

I think Sephulcrave wrote it himself that there were very few or none sorcereses in Wyre when he wrote about wyre. There are also no gnomes haflings or dwarfs there. but lots`o feys!

^^


----------



## Gez

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> I use the ToH version of Movanic Devas (more martial, less magical), so _hallow_ was not available to the celestials in order to restore the chapel.




So, you have finally bought it?




			
				Casti said:
			
		

> I thinkI think Sephulcrave wrote it himself that there were very few or none sorcereses in Wyre when he wrote about wyre. There are also no gnomes haflings or dwarfs there. but lots`o feys!




Actually, there are gnomes. _Nwm had specifically instructed the gnomes who had restored the rest of the keep’s interior to leave the chapel untouched..._ (last story post above this comment). Of course, he may have changed them to be fey rather than humanoids (and I think that's what he has done); but there are gnomes. Proof straight from the horse's mouth!


----------



## Lela

Dispater said:
			
		

> I say Yes To More Gnomes in Sep's Story Hour!
> 
> -the Resistance



 Yes, always good to have Demons eating Gnomes.  Halflings are more tender (and scream better but at some point that doesn't matter anymore) but you need Gnome for those Demons who really want to have to tear the flesh away.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Cheiromancer said:
			
		

> We should be due for an update any time now.
> 
> Sep, I hope your house hunting is going well.




Regret that updates are suspended - possibly for a long while. Too much going on IRL. I'll let you know when things change.


----------



## pogre

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> Regret that updates are suspended - possibly for a long while. Too much going on IRL. I'll let you know when things change.



Understandable - best of luck.

I just wanted to jump in again and tell you how much I enjoy the story hour. It needs to be a fun activity for you though and sometimes real life dictates other priorities.

Undoubtedly your faithful readers are going nowhere in the meantime, and look forward to the day you are able to give us a few lines.

Take care and be well.


----------



## Volaran

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> Regret that updates are suspended - possibly for a long while. Too much going on IRL. I'll let you know when things change.




Thanks for the heads up Sep.  We'll  be here when things calm down.  I hope the busy nature of RL is of the good kind.


----------



## Felix

At one point I waited two years for Robert Jordan to come out with a new Wheel of Time book, and jumped on the book when it came out. I have since stopped reading that series, but you can bet your biscuts I'll be back here as soon as I catch a whif of an update.

Have fun with that RL stuff bud.


----------



## Olive

Felix said:
			
		

> Have fun with that RL stuff bud.




An echo here. Looking forward to a time when you'll be able to post again!


----------



## Cheiromancer

The different installments of the story hour can all be found in my sig.  Cut and paste to your favorite word processor, or view off-line.


----------



## Eridanis

I had a few minutes before work this morning, so I weeded out some of the bumps in this thread to make it slightly more managable. 

Allan, do you mind if I remove your posts detailing who you've sent compilations to, or do you want them for reference? I'll also delete those compilation requests, too, and some of the short posts here. I won't delete anything with a question for Sep, or anything that would add to the discussion - but I figure all of us would appreciate some weeding.


----------



## Thomas Hobbes

> ...but I figure all of us would appreciate some weeding.



Aye!  Thank ye kindly.


----------



## grodog

Eridanis said:
			
		

> Allan, do you mind if I remove your posts detailing who you've sent compilations to, or do you want them for reference? I'll also delete those compilation requests, too, and some of the short posts here. I won't delete anything with a question for Sep, or anything that would add to the discussion - but I figure all of us would appreciate some weeding.




Sounds good to me Eridanis.  I don't need the requests/sents for reference, since I have the emails on my PC, so feel free to remove them all


----------



## grodog

Eridanis, you may also want to prune the Rogues Gallery thread too....


----------



## starwolf

So how many bumps, and weeding of sid bumps, does a SH need before rating a Sticky?


----------



## Rackhir

starwolf said:
			
		

> So how many bumps, and weeding of sid bumps, does a SH need before rating a Sticky?




You miss the point. Daily bumping a story hour such as this, is proof of our devotion to it. Having it stickied up to the top would negate all that, it would be meaningless then. We're not some SH Author pimping their own story hour, we are doing this because it's one of the all time great's and we feel it should be kept on the first page. If we didn't care enough to keep bumping it, then it should drift off into the nether reaches of the story hour board. Eventually to fade away forever...

I always felt a bit sad that all of the bumps were cleaned off of the original Lady Despina's virtute, since they were accumulated over such a long time and represented so much effort by so many people (especially Horacio, to whom I give much of the credit for the story hour returning).

So if you really love a story hour it is your duty to bump it. The fact that this story hour remains pretty much pegged to the top page at least is a clear sign of how much it is loved.

So, 'til Sepulchrave II returns from the problems of RL, we will remain here faithfully bumping things (though it wouldn't hurt if it were sooner rather than later. In fact I'm almost finished buying MY house already).


----------



## dravot

Rackhir said:
			
		

> So, 'til Sepulchrave II returns from the problems of RL, we will remain here faithfully bumping things (though it wouldn't hurt if it were sooner rather than later. In fact I'm almost finished buying MY house already).



Really?  Congratulations!  

That's very cool.


----------



## Eridanis

Well said, Rackhir. Also, the last thing we want to do is practice favoritism in the SH forum; who's to say that one or two SHs are better than all the rest, for every person? I sure don't want to make that call. 

I will check all the other threads for pruning, too, as I get time. The last time Sep had temporary deletion powers, he wiped every non-SH post, so I don't feel bad about pruning a bit here and there.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

Hi All


Sorry for the slight delay   I'm afraid that I must beg your indulgence again: my wife and I have purchased a house (hooray!), but now the process of packing begins (boo!). We close at the end of October, so it may be a while again before another update. The stressful part is over though, thank the gods. 

In the meantime...


***


*Mostly Nwm*


Nwm fretted. It was nearly midnight, the two fiends had departed from his field of consciousness, and Eadric had not returned to the chapel. The fact that the Paladin was _mind blanked_ did not help matters – it was impossible to discern whether he was in the vicinity or not.

When Gheim returned through the open window, the Eagle confirmed that the _Ahma_ was no longer in the Steeple by dropping Lukarn at Nwm’s feet.

"The room is empty, although his armour is still within. Do not make me fly in search of him, Nwm – or at least calm the wind somewhat, if you do."

Nwm scowled. He feared manipulation and betrayal by either the Infernal Duke, the Succubus, or both. The possibility that the two fiends might be in cahoots with one another also troubled him.

Iua glanced at the Druid. Other than Nwm, she was the only one of the group still awake.

"Should I wake Mostin?"

Nwm shook his head. "What use would it serve? Eadric is unlocatable. We just have to wait. Stay here – I’ll be back presently."

He opened the chapel door and strode into the storm.


**


Nwm’s contention that Nhura could not mount an effective assault upon Kyrtill’s Burh until the next day was based on incomplete information, and a gross underestimate of the power at the Lillend’s command. Likewise, Mostin’s belief that the _screen_ invoked by Shomei, together with the _dimensional lock_ would prove a sufficient protection for the few hours they needed, was equally flawed.

Nhura was resourceful, merciless, and never one to cede the initiative in any conflict in which she was engaged. Five teams of demons conjured by Koilimilou – each consisting of a glabrezu and a succubus – had been dispatched, and one pair finally returned with useful news for the Lillend.

At Koilimilou’s command, the fiends had systematically scoured the countryside in Western Trempa, looking for Deorham and Kyrtill’s Burh, which – after questioning local farmers in an outlying stead near Hernath – was revealed to a succubus to be only twelve miles distant. 

Elated with the news, the demoness slew several families in a fit of glee, before returning to her dark mistress and her even darker queen.

The castle, it appeared, was hidden by a powerful illusion, and at the centre of a highly localized weather system. The nearby village of Deorham, however, was plainly visible. The glabrezu had penetrated the _screen_ about the keep with its vision, but subsequently retreated upon finding a quartet of devas – appearing from nowhere – which had hewn at him with their flaming swords.

When the glabrezu returned, eighteen seconds later, it was in the company of four others of its kind, five succubi, three _summoned_ vrocks, and the creature Hazihe – the chthonic babau originally enlisted by Irknaan, and now serving Nhura.

The rewards promised to the fiends by Nhura were lavish, and included a diamond circlet of immense value, an Azer blade of fabled power, a _cloak of displacement_, and a _robe of stars_.

The demons were well motivated.


**


As Nwm began to walk the short distance across the courtyard to the base of the Steeple, one of the devas – his name was Saphrez, although the Druid neither knew nor cared – manifested before him. Nwm was bathed in light from the _holy aura_ which surrounded the deva.

"There are demons abroad," the Celestial announced. "Where is the _Ahma_?"

Nwm cursed, and shook his head. 

"I suggest that you retreat within."

The Druid dashed back through the doors, and yelled, jarring Shomei, Ortwin and Mostin from sleep.

"Demons. We must act _now_."

Blearily, Mostin invoked a _wall of force_. 


In the courtyard, confusion reigned. The demons were materializing, but only the glabrezu – possessed of an extraordinary perceptive faculty – could readily pierce the _screen_ which protected the area. Through force of will, the babau Hazihe summoned sufficient insight to mentally overcome the illusion. Neither the succubi nor the vrocks were capable of clear perception, however. Despite a knowledge that they were standing within the castle walls, all they saw was a rocky knoll. 

The deva Tarquam, somewhat disoriented by the sudden appearance of numbers of demons – some of whom appeared very confused – nonetheless reacted quickly. He spoke a _holy word_, instantly sending two succubi and a glabrezu back to their Abyssal home.

Seconds later, Hazihe – a yawning void which pulsed with unlight – leaped  upon him, ripping effortlessly through celestial flesh with claws and maw, and, in the blink of an eye, permanently extinguished the deva’s shining essence. 

Nazaihemaht and Rôrex, the two other devas in the courtyard, both pronounced further _holy words_ in succession, banishing yet more of the fiends screaming back to the lower planes. Hazihe, two of the glabrezu, and one of the succubi were unaffected.

From within the confines of the chapel, Mostin grimaced as he heard two _power words_ echo within the courtyard above the noise of the storm. There was a brief pause as the demons dispatched the devas, and then the glabrezu ripped the doors of the chapel off of their hinges.

One tried pushing forwards, but encountered the _wall of force_.

The other attempted to _teleport_ into the sanctum behind where the party stood, but could not penetrate the _dimensional lock_.

Ortwin smiled, and stuck his finger up.

"I think that gesture may be a little premature," Nwm remarked drily.


**


The Void embraced him. It was warm, soft, yielding, welcoming. It showed its power through its capacity for absorption – which had no limit – and a profound silence, free of all worry and distraction. Eadric felt as though he teetered upon the edge of oblivion, and was vaguely surprised that the threat of annihilation did not seem so terrible. Beyond, fear and madness – the thought-forms and unconscious ravings of fiends – seemed a universe away. He wanted Nothing. He needed Nothing.

_She is deadly. This truth is too easy. [Thought fails. Bliss. Emptiness.]_

He corporeated again within an opulent chamber, draped with crimson and fuligin. It was replete with fantastic art of a most abstract and disturbing nature – although what it portrayed, he could not tell. Dimension seemed warped and unnatural, as though curves existed where none should, and angles played at the corners of his mind only to disappear when observed directly. His perceptions buckled with layered dissonances. Nearby, a small silver bell hung from a delicate chain.

Soneillon had assumed a guise that her servants and thralls were familiar with, and Eadric swallowed. No longer a young girl, but a demoness of indeterminate age. Still beautiful, but cold, aloof, serene, worshipful; at ease with the terrible power which she commanded. She was as tall as he was, and wore only a diadem studded with black jewels.

The Succubus smiled disarmingly, and, for the Paladin’s benefit, modestly shrouded her form with her sable wings. 

"Welcome to Throile," she said coyly. "I have been somewhat neglectful, and there are matters that I must attend to – do not be alarmed, I will return very shortly. Strike the bell if there is anything which you require – Helitihai will meet any need that you might have."

Although the word _any_ was not pronounced with undue emphasis, it still carried a meaning beyond the obvious.

Eadric sighed. "I would ask two things. First, that you do not present an expurgated view of this place in order to protect my feelings – my actions must be made in full consciousness, and the more that is hidden from me, the less I will feel inclined to trust my judgement. I am in the Abyss, and I do not expect to encounter scenes which I find agreeable. Second, I do not wish to linger here too long – I am a willing ambassador, but I have other responsibilities that I must meet before I can commit to any course of action in Throile. I would feel uncomfortable if my stay lasted beyond an hour – an hour _in Wyre_, to be clear."

"Your concerns are duly noted, and I will observe your wishes. If you would prefer, you may accompany me now. 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. 

He earnestly hoped that he would never become inured to it.


**

The demons had vanished from view, although they still appeared as nearby blots within Nwm’s mind.

"Is he _mad_?" Ortwin groaned. "He didn’t take his weapon with him? Where is he?"

Nwm shrugged. "Presumably with either Titivilus, or Soneillon. Or perhaps both."

"I hope the former, for his sake," Shomei sighed. "This is tedious. I am utterly depleted, and so is Mostin. And this _dimensional lock_ may now prove more a prison than protection. How many are out there, Nwm?"

"Four. One is very unpleasant. There are no celestials within range – they’re either destroyed or fled."

"I suspect that we are in no shape to deal with the chthonic," Shomei swallowed. "This is very bad news." 

"We are safe unless they can _disintegrate_ the _wall of force_," Mostin replied. "Don’t panic quite yet. We have twenty minutes or so before it collapses. I have time to prepare a _banishment_ and a another spell or two.*"

"Can you issue a _sending_ to Ed?" Ortwin asked.

The Alienist shook his head glumly. "By the time I’ve prepared it and cast it, the _wall of force_ will be down. And even if I renewed the barrier and Eadric manages to return, he will be out there, and us in here. He cannot come into the chapel any more than the demons can."

"I still have a few tricks left," Nwm said wearily. His expression changed to one of horror as he shot a glance towards the open doorway of the chapel.

The demons had returned, and had brought Eadric’s small staff of retainers with them. Dwarfed by the looming presence of the glabrezu, the servants – valets and maids, stablehands and gardener – cowered in terror.

The huge demons proceeded to dismember and eat the cook. The succubus danced nearby.

"Bring out the _Ahma_," the Void called Hazihe demanded.

Nwm groaned. "This is intolerable. Why must it always be the innocents? Mostin, bring the _wall_ down on my signal."

"You are joking, of course?"

Nwm began to cast a ward upon himself.

"Nwm?"

"Now, Mostin."

"Nwm, I…"

"Just for once, trust me Mostin."

The Alienist sighed, and reluctantly complied. The _wall of force_ dissipated.

Nwm grimaced and struck his blackthorn staff once upon the flagstone inside the door. The slabs which formed the chapel floor began to crack. "_She is tired of your interference_," he announced to the demons, although it would have been spoken with equal vehemence to Soneillon, the Loquai, the devas, and perhaps even to the _Sela_ himself.

Green fire blazed over the Druid, threatening to consume him. His skin blistered and cracked, his cloak ignited. His mouth, ears and eyes dripped a liquid that might have been blood, or sap, or both. A colossal discharge of viridescence emanated from him. His staff sank into the floor, burning in a brilliant flash of green, and the _orb of storms_ which had topped it fell off and rolled away. 

For the briefest moment, Ortwin fancied that he saw the silhouette of a woman in Nwm’s place: a shape of great girth and dignity; fecund, bearing a thousand swollen breasts.

The demons were transfixed with expressions of bewilderment – impaled through limb and torso on vast, thorny boughs which erupted from the paved courtyard, penetrating their hides and instantly slaying them. The corpse of the babau, Hazihe, flickered disconcertingly on the edge of consciousness: destroyed, nullified – whatever became of things that had already survived annihilation. 

Nwm collapsed.

"I should like to sleep now," he said.

Mostin gaped. "I had no idea…"

Iua smiled wrily. "Thankfully, we are not _all_ wanton braggarts."

The Bard scowled, and then rapidly dismissed his vision as the imaginings of tired eyes and a still sluggish mind. Besides, nobody else seemed to have noticed.



*


Nhura waited.

The Demons did not return. The Lillend attempted to reach them with magical sight. Nothing. They were gone.

She cursed, and glanced at Koilimilou. The Cambion was slumped exhausted, in deep trance. Nhura resisted the urge to slay her out of spite – Koilimilou was too useful – and glanced at Jetheeg.

The Lamia was, as her custom dictated, _polymorphed_ into the form of a crone – approximately human in shape – but of great height, and possessing an unusually bestial and vicious aspect. Jetheeg was accustomed to riding a griffon, and if forced into physical combat – something which she was generally cautious to avoid – her hag-like form served her well. 

"The demons have failed," Jetheeg remarked drily.

"Koilimilou will conjure more tomorrow," Nhura scowled.

"She will run out of potential compactees at this rate. Her patroness will be most displeased with her in any case – losing five glabrezu is an act of reprehensible carelessness."

"If Rhyxali cannot provide them then we will try another," Nhura countered. "Soneillon has…"

"Soneillon." Jetheeg scoffed. "Do not place too much trust in Throile, or its Queen. You are precariously perched, majesty," the word _majesty_ carried the slightest hint of condescension. 

"She may provide more of Hazihe’s ilk. She knows many names. I still suspect that she will pay a high price for the _Ahma_."

"If she ever deigns to answer your _sendings_," Jetheeg sneered. 

"We will prevail," Nhura hissed. "Watch your tongue, Jetheeg – I am not above removing it. We know the exact location of the castle. You will issue more _sendings_ tomorrow – Irzho is still here, somewhere in this world. He can be solicited – I suspect that he, like us, is now somewhat indifferent to Graz’zt’s rule. And give the Cambion an hour to conjure more demons in the morning. When we assault the place, we will be prepared. Others will be glad to compact – there are sweet rewards for those who succeed."

Jetheeg nodded – the promise was directed towards her as much as any other. 


But, as later that night, Nhura rested – coiled around a tree of evil temper within the woods of Hethio – she herself received a succession of _sendings_ from her glabrezu lover and cohort, Narab. He had been charged – together with Tebdeluz** – with maintaining a close guard upon Lehurze, whose capacity for treachery, Nhura suspected, was exceeded only by her usefulness as a tool. Lehurze had been appointed the task of reopening a dialogue with the Devils who maintained a presence in Afqithan. In fact, the suavity of the succubus did not match the oratory finesse of Titivilus and Furcas – two of Hell’s foremost rhetoricians – and she quickly found herself beating a hasty diplomatic retreat.  

None of this mattered, because Narab’s _sendings_ conveyed a dire message to the Lillend. Mere hours had passed in the demiplane since the departure of the _Ahma_ and his party:

_Ainhorr holds Afqithan. Three legions plus daemon mercenaries. Devils remain – assaults upon tower ineffective. Loquai capitulated quickly. Lehurze location unknown. Tebdeluz eliminated. Annexation took five minutes._

No, not sweet Tebdeluz! Nhura swore profusely. Disposition and location of enemy? Generals? Ainhorr returned to favour? What of Soneillon? Graz’zt?

_Bar-lgura; some chasme. No dretches – highly mobile. Nycaloths. Seven mariliths; auxiliaries and specialists include goristros, kelvezu, retrievers, many succubi. Ainhorr armoured and rearmed. Soneillon location unknown. Graz’zt presumed Azzagrat._

Nhura groaned. She had half-anticipated some form of inquiry from Zelatar when the periodic _gate_ opened – hence her own intentional absence. But this was unexpected. Lehurze may have sold her out. As could any one of a dozen others, for that matter. And three legions – close to twenty thousand demons – was hardly a token presence.

_What to do now?_, she wondered.


**

"You expect me to do _what_?" Eadric asked, incredulous.

"Do you think that you could deal with him – hand-to-hand – if his magic were neutralized?"

"No. Not alone."

"But with – for example – Ortwin and Iua?"

"Probably," Eadric conceded. "But I think that they would both require extensive inducements to participate. Ortwin would be the first to admit that he favours the appearance of valour over valour itself; and generally prefers money to morals."

"When Zelatar is looted, Eadric – as it certainly will be, after the fall of one of Graz’zt’s stature – then Ortwin, I suspect, will be there to take the choicest pickings. Have you any idea of the extent of the Prince’s wealth? Scavengers from a thousand different realities will descend upon Azzagrat like flies. News travels quickly."

"Then it would rapidly become the least desirable place in the cosmos to be," Eadric sighed.

"I doubt that Ortwin will see it that way."

"You speak as though the outcome is a foregone conclusion."

"Graz’zt can be eliminated. You must be the bait."

"He will not rise to it."

"You must force his hand. _You_ are capable of doing this, Eadric: rousing his ire to such a degree, that he loses all perspective in his lust for vengeance."

"I had considered Afqithan to be a possible locale for an encounter."

"As had I," Soneillon agreed. "And his mind is already turned there. He is attempting to unravel the events that transpired there."

Eadric gave an inquisitive look.

"Ainhorr has just annexed the demiplane."

Eadric groaned and his eyes bulged. He considered briefly. "Why? I mean, why you, now? What do you stand to gain? I don’t believe that all of your action springs from vindictiveness and the desire for revenge. You are too considered. Too methodical."

The Demoness laughed. "The _Ahma_ sees with clear eyes. Because there is something of mine that I would dearly like returned to me. He stole it. I want it back."




In Nhura’s throne room, in the palace built by Irknaan in Afqithan, Ainhorr gloated over the loot brought to him by the bar-lgura which leapt madly through the halls. Most of the Loquai who dwelt in the fortress had translated to Shadow or Faerie and eluded capture, but grizzly examples were made of their servants and those unfortunate enough to have been caught unawares.

Demons and _sendings_ had raced back and forth. Menicau, Samodoquol and a dozen other nobles had immediately sued for peace. Within an hour, tributes had been lavished upon the Balor by fawning aristocrats. Ainhorr’s contempt for them was offset by his immense greed, and a recognition that the Loquai – ultimately pragmatic in their outlook – would prove no threat.

The Demon set his pristine slaadi-forged blade across his knees, and relaxed into an immense throne of steel – erected in place of Irknaan’s delicate chair of tenebrous coral. He intended to enjoy his tenure as despot of Afqithan.

He gazed through the deep-set windows across the lawns – strewn with the bodies of demons, Loquai, and fey and goblin slaves – and through the trees. Fifty nycadaemons now soared menacingly around the diabolic tower. Its inhabitants – three Dukes of Hell and their retinue – were reportedly contained. As much as it was _possible_ to contain three Infernal magnates.

Which was to say, Ainhorr sneered to himself, not at all.







*At this point, Mostin had two fifth-level, one sixth level and one seventh-level open slots left. All of his prepared high-level spells, except for a _plane shift_ and a _discern location_ had already been cast.


**Narab and Tebdeluz: _big_ glabrezu – advanced to 24 HD – and bound to Nhura by Irknaan himself as part of their nuptial agreement. Narab was given the _stone of sendings_ – lost by Shomei – to continually apprise Nhura of Lehurze’s actions, as well as the maneuvering of the various Loquai nobles in her absence.


Note:

Nwm’s spell (_She is tired of your interference_) was a spontaneous variation of another that his player, Dave had been working on. I had ruled that DC0 Epic Spells could be invented and cast "on the fly." In this case I also allowed the _staff of the woodlands_ to be used as a (fabulously expensive) material component – I permitted the normal XP cost to create the item (3600 XP) to be used in lieu of part of the XP mitigating factors (i.e. –36 DC). It had wholly appropriate symbolism for the mood that Nwm was in, and the spell’s visual effects reflected that.

So Nwm was the first PC to cast an Epic Spell in the game – to the immense surprise of the other players, who had no idea that Nwm was capable (or even that he was 21st level, IIRC). 

The demonic attack _was_ kind of mean of me, I’ll admit (although the players had great fun playing the devas for a round or two), but it _was_ within Nhura’s capabilities to organize the ambush, so I could hardly let it pass. The PCs were still all completely spent from their encounter with Crosod, Eadric was missing, and to throw the chthonic babau (CR 20 or so) and a bunch of glabrezu at them at this point was a little bit ruthless. 


On a related note, this opened a whole new can of worms – that of allowing magical items to serve as material components for Epic Spells. I actually quite like the idea: its not as though such things can be freely purchased in the campaign, and I think it actually balances quite well – one form of XP sink (the item) is converted into another (the Epic Spell). The purpose and symbolism needs to be consistent on some level – so it wouldn’t be possible to use, say, _Daern’s instant fortress_ to fuel a fire evocation.


----------



## Destan

I was about to shut down the computer and hit the sack, and then I see Sep's returned!  Thank heavens!  Haven't even read the update yet, just wanted to express my joy.

Best wishes with the new home, Sep.  Here's hoping you can designate a permanent gaming room somewhere therein.

D


----------



## Broccli_Head

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> Hi All
> 
> 
> On a related note, this opened a whole new can of worms – that of allowing magical items to serve as material components for Epic Spells. I actually quite like the idea: its not as though such things can be freely purchased in the campaign, and I think it actually balances quite well – one form of XP sink (the item) is converted into another (the Epic Spell). The purpose and symbolism needs to be consistent on some level – so it wouldn’t be possible to use, say, _Daern’s instant fortress_ to fuel a fire evocation.




Hmmm...that is a really good idea. I'll have to consider it as my player approach epic. 

But...I don't know if they'll be able to comprehend that there are spells more powerful than _wish_ or _miracle_


----------



## grodog

> Sorry for the slight delay I'm afraid that I must beg your indulgence again: my wife and I have purchased a house (hooray!), but now the process of packing begins (boo!). We close at the end of October, so it may be a while again before another update. The stressful part is over though, thank the gods.




Congratulations Jim!  When you get a chance, shoot me your new mailing address, and I'll pop your manuscript comments in the mail


----------



## Olive

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> Iua smiled wrily. "Thankfully, we are not _all_ wanton braggarts."




Thanks for stopping in and bestowing this gem on us Sep! And coupled with an update from Destan too. Good stuff!


----------



## shilsen

Let me be the first to say the requisite: 

WOW! (no, Mytholder, "Woo"s don't count)


----------



## WizarDru

Good luck with the packing...that's physically harder, but mentally *much* easier.  Moving is exhausting, but can be very exciting...and mucho busy.

Another excellent update...and this time, an interesting rules idea I hadn't even considered.  I'll definitely have to run that one over in my mind.  The real potential for abuse is dependent on the level and availability of treasure in your game.  For Sep's game, it's much less of an issue, whereas some games (such as mine) have much more common avaibility of such items (at least at the now Epic levels the PCs have reached).


----------



## Greybar

Amazing as always.
This help inspire me to return to the plotting behind the plotting for my own game.  Your off-scene elements help show that the NPCs have their own entanglements, intentions, and enemies.  The rest of the world does not statically await the hero, hurrah!

On the burning appropriate items.  I'd be tempted to make that a feat, but on the epic level and for the story-appropriateness it is wonderful.

Congrats on the house and good luck in moving!

john


----------



## Mathew_Freeman

OK, I am even more of a Nwm fan now than I was before.


----------



## carpedavid

I am not ashamed to admit that I giggled like a schoolgirl when Nwm cast his epic level spell.

The only good thing about such a long period between updates is that I get to rediscover just how good this story is. It is a quite pleasant discovery, I can assure you.


----------



## Felix

HUTTAH!

w00t

Zippity DOO DAH!


----------



## WizarDru

What, are you from the planet Koozebane, Felix?


----------



## Eridanis

As someone who's moved thrice in the past year, I say: Congratulations! And bend your knees when you lift!


----------



## Felix

I was channeling Koozebane, WizarDru.

Odd feeling that, but not entirely bad...


----------



## Alejandro

There *is* a Sepulchrave!

Go Nwm!


----------



## Rackhir

Many years ago when watching some anime I made the observation that it's always the quiet ones who really kick ass. Nwm certainly fits into that category. Most of the times when he's pretty quiet, but when he gets mad, boy does he kick ass.

Good luck with your closing Sepulchrave.


----------



## Black_Kaioshin

Woo hoo!!! Welcome back, Sep!! Congrats on the house!


----------



## Pants

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> The Demon set his pristine slaadi-forged blade across his knees, and relaxed into an immense throne of steel – erected in place of Irknaan’s delicate chair of tenebrous coral. He intended to enjoy his tenure as despot of Afqithan.



Uh, how did Ainhorr get Hullu's sword?   
Some behind the scenes stuff I imagine.

Great update Sep. w00t.


----------



## Broccli_Head

Pants said:
			
		

> Uh, how did Ainhorr get Hullu's sword?
> Some behind the scenes stuff I imagine.
> 
> Great update Sep. w00t.




Aww Hell! I missed that. Great spot, Pants. 

I wouldn't mind knowing what happened to Hullu and the succubi-influenced witches.


----------



## WizarDru

Pants said:
			
		

> Uh, how did Ainhorr get Hullu's sword?
> Some behind the scenes stuff I imagine.



What, you think the Slaad have only ever forged *one* sword?


----------



## DanMcS

WizarDru said:
			
		

> What, you think the Slaad have only ever forged *one* sword?




No, but I believe in Chekhov's Law.


----------



## Sejs

> Uh, how did Ainhorr get Hullu's sword?



  I'd lay even money that the succubi Honey Paw was dealing with sold them out to Grazzt.  

And I agree with DanMcS - Chekhov's Law.  That's got to be Melancholy.  A second "pristine slaadi-forged blade" at this point in the game would be strangly out of place.


----------



## Lela

Sejs said:
			
		

> I'd lay even money that the succubi Honey Paw was dealing with sold them out to Grazzt.
> 
> And I agree with DanMcS - Chekhov's Law.  That's got to be Melancholy.  A second "pristine slaadi-forged blade" at this point in the game would be strangly out of place.



 In a normal story, yes.  In a D&D campaign, not so much.  But since this is both (and Sep is stunning when it comes to detail), I tend to agree with you and Dan.


----------



## F5

Rackhir said:
			
		

> Many years ago when watching some anime I made the observation that it's always the quiet ones who really kick ass. Nwm certainly fits into that category. Most of the times when he's pretty quiet, but when he gets mad, boy does he kick ass.




I gotta' agree.  Nwm's got a great technique.  He sits back quietly while the rest of the party makes waves, but when someone really, REALLY needs a swift kick, he unleashes, like the force of nature he is.  It's not that he's got more Big Bang spell potential than Mostin (he doesn't, I'm sure), it's just that Nwm's got TIMING...

The scene where Nwm single-handedly decimates the army from Morne was the point where I considered myself officially and completely sucked in.  Go Nwm!

And go Sep.  Thanks for the update, and congrats on the house!

[edit]I'd love to see an update to the Rogues Gallery thread posting the stats for Nwm's "_She is tired of your interference_" spell.  But I'd rather not add stress to Sep's plate, so please don't consider this an urgent request.  Just an "it would be great if you get a chance".


----------



## Thomas Hobbes

Heh.  My fanboy status re: Nwm is further cemented now.  Ditto on the spell request and ditto also on the non-urgentness.

Speaking of favorite characters, though, I was re-reading the story and game upon this Ortwin gem, from when they had captured the Balor Rurunoth.  Ortwin is taunting the demon with song:



> "Come on Ruru, don’t be a party-pooper. Sing along! Perhaps you’ve got some old favourites that we can sing together?"
> The darkness remained unbroken, but the voice of the Balor echoed in Ortwin’s mind.
> I WILL STRIP AWAY YOUR BODY AND PEEL YOUR SOUL. YOUR ESSENCE WILL EXPERIENCE SUCH UNENDING PAIN THAT YOU WILL BEG FOR RELEASE. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY LAYERS A SOUL POSSESSES, MORTAL?
> "Ooh, I don’t think I know that one. Sing the first couple of lines, and I’m sure I’ll pick it up, though." Ortwin retorted.
> YOU, AND THE NATURE-PRIEST, AND THE FILTHY PALADIN, AND HIS ACCURSED TURNCOAT WHORE. THAT PRETENTIOUS SCOFFING LITTLE WIZARD. I KNOW YOU ALL. AND YOU HAVE OVERSTEPPED YOUR POWERS AND UNDERESTIMATED MINE. SOON YOU WILL ALL BURN.
> "You," sang Ortwin, "and-the-nature-priest…hum…de…dum…"




I laughed and laughed.  Just thought I'd share.


----------



## Gez

Sep said:
			
		

> On a related note, this opened a whole new can of worms – that of allowing magical items to serve as material components for Epic Spells. I actually quite like the idea: its not as though such things can be freely purchased in the campaign, and I think it actually balances quite well – one form of XP sink (the item) is converted into another (the Epic Spell). The purpose and symbolism needs to be consistent on some level – so it wouldn’t be possible to use, say, Daern’s instant fortress to fuel a fire evocation.




That's a splendid and flavorful idea!

Maybe even also for regular spells with XP cost, like _wish_...


----------



## Arken

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> The Demoness laughed. "The Ahma sees with clear eyes. Because there is something of mine that I would dearly like returned to me. He stole it. I want it back."




   I think she is going to want Nehael! what on earth would eadric, and for that matter, Nwm do then!

Just guessing of course, sublime as always Sepulchrave.


----------



## Sollir Furryfoot

Fantastic update, as always, Sepulchrave!

So....Anyone else hoping Nwm casting that epic spell gets a picture?


----------



## Gez

Why would Nehael be so precious? She was a mere succubus, not a chthonic succubus with lots of class levels and one or two nifty additional templates.

Sure, she got redeemed and was accepted by Uedii (which shows She has a very open mind, since she usually don't like outerplanar interlopers); but that's not to have a druidic succubus in her retinue Soneillon would wage war against Graz'zt.


----------



## Darklone

Hmm, once again ?

Soneillon = Nehael after being dumped into the nothingness and a short timehop for some eternities?


----------



## Gez

Wouldn't that requires some spaciotemporal paradoxes?


----------



## Darklone

Gez said:
			
		

> Wouldn't that require some spaciotemporal paradoxes?



Gnug the halforc would say: "Whassad? Sounds crunchy. Me go for it!"


----------



## Mytholder

There's also the wackiness of Nehael's position in the Web of Motes. She does seem to be the axis on which the world changes, for Oronthon at least. That might make her more valuable to Soneillon, even leaving aside the time travel theory.


----------



## Dispater

Thank the Lord!    

I thought this thread was dead. I lost faith. I was wrong. Forgive me.


----------



## WizarDru

Gez said:
			
		

> Wouldn't that requires some spaciotemporal paradoxes?



Saizhan.


----------



## Rackhir

Dispater said:
			
		

> Thank the Lord!
> 
> I thought this thread was dead. I lost faith. I was wrong. Forgive me.




Your faith is weak my son, but you are forgiven. Remember that the Sepulchrave II is like the weather, some times it rains updates and other times there is a great drought. But doubt no more, for in the end, he did not forsake us in the great desert that lay between the first inklings of "Lady Despina's Virtue" and the triumphant continuation of the story. Yea, though many many months had past and he was nowhere to be found on the boards while we wandered lost in the desert. So, let your faith waver no more and hold fast to the knowledge that one day civilization will rise once more and that there will in fact be lemon scented paper napkins once again.


----------



## Black_Kaioshin

Preach on, Brother Rackhir!!


----------



## Lela

Black_Kaioshin said:
			
		

> Preach on, Brother Rackhir!!



 That's a great name for an NPC.  Perhaps I'll use it.


----------



## wolff96

Nwm is definitely my favorite character in this storyhour.

Mostin is delightfully insane and fascinating to watch, Eadric is always writhing on the horns of some moral dilemma, Ortwin and Iua are uniquely fun, but Nwm is always the coolest.

We have two sides to Nwm, both of which are incredibly awesome: the nature priest, lover of the wildlife... and the nature priest, raining doom on those who would harm the world. 

My three favorite Nwm moments:
1) This one, naturally.  
2) The destruction of an army: efficient and methodically homicidal.
3) When he took off his shoes (a long, LONG time ago) so he could walk in a stream and talk to the fish.

I think those three moments perfectly capture his character and just how incredibly cool and entertaining he is.


----------



## Ridley's Cohort

wolff96 said:
			
		

> Nwm is definitely my favorite character in this storyhour.
> 
> Mostin is delightfully insane and fascinating to watch, Eadric is always writhing on the horns of some moral dilemma, Ortwin and Iua are uniquely fun, but Nwm is always the coolest.




Nwm never lets me down.  

People were chatting about how awesome Mostin is, and I said "A high level Druid is much more dangerous to an army than a Wizard."  Few weeks later, whammo!

Nwm had been grumbling a bit about the Injunction being inadequate.  I said "Extraplanars are one thing, but shouldn't Non-Being Extraplanars really tick Nwm and the Goddess off enough to do something?".  Whammo! again.

(Hey!  Let a fanboy bask in what reflected glory he can.)


Great stuff, Sep.  I am glad to hear RL is going well.


----------



## Sepulchrave II

> Great stuff, Sep. I am glad to hear RL is going well.




Hmm. I thought it was, until today - the home inspection revealed serious hidden structural problems. So, we aren't buying, and we're still looking. That said, thank God for decent home inspectors. Otherwise it would have gotten _very_ messy down the line...


----------



## Lela

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> Hmm. I thought it was, until today - the home inspection revealed serious hidden structural problems. So, we aren't buying, and we're still looking. That said, thank God for decent home inspectors. Otherwise it would have gotten _very_ messy down the line...



 Wow, I'm glad you cought that.  Could have been really bad.


----------



## Darklone

That moment when Nwm was removing his shoes to talk to the fish... I especially liked that he lost himself a little bit, turned into a fish and swam away while he might have been talking to the others


----------



## Ridley's Cohort

Sepulchrave II said:
			
		

> Hmm. I thought it was, until today - the home inspection revealed serious hidden structural problems. So, we aren't buying, and we're still looking. That said, thank God for decent home inspectors. Otherwise it would have gotten _very_ messy down the line...




Ack.

Having been involved in home purchasing "adventures" in California, I can say that I feel your pain.  

Best of luck.  Things will eventually work out for you...


----------



## William Ronald

Sep,

I am sorry to hear about the house. However, it is far better to be delayed in getting a good house than to be stuck with a lemon. Good luck in finding a new home.

Thanks for the update.  I thought that Nwm was being too quiet, and expected him to do something spectacular.  This was delightfully more than I expected.


----------



## Jackylhunter

Good luck on the renewed Search!  I'm going through the opposite though, I'm trying to sell my house and I get nervious when a inspector stops by!


----------



## Felix

"Twas brillig, and the slithy toves 
did gire and gimble in the wabe...


----------



## Lela

Felix said:
			
		

> "Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
> did gire and gimble in the wabe...



Oh, oh, I know this one.  Dangit.  I do remember that they put it in _Alice in Wonderland_.  Ga, it's going to come to me at 2 AM when my mouth goes dry and I must drag myself out of bed for water.


----------



## Salthorae

*hmmm*

Sep, 
  I must say that I love the story hour. Said it before, and I'm saying it again...apparently (heh), but this is a well crafted story, and I LOVE the moral dilemmas forced upon the characters. It requires such a great role players to take these dilemmas and create the story we see before us, so my hat's off to your players (no really)...alright maybe it just fell off my head but still...great job to all.

oh and lela, I know it "na na na na na na!" Of course i know felix so i may have an advantage... 

maybe this will help, it being the next portion:

"All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."


----------



## Rackhir

Lela said:
			
		

> Oh, oh, I know this one.  Dangit.  I do remember that they put it in _Alice in Wonderland_.  Ga, it's going to come to me at 2 AM when my mouth goes dry and I must drag myself out of bed for water.




I'm 99.9% certain it's from "The Jaberwock" which was written (iirc) also by Lewis Carrol. The infamous "Vorpal Sword" also comes from the poem.


----------



## Felix

Sep, 
Since I am aware of your love of bump-free threads, I'll add praise to this shameless bump; Salthorae, while unattractive and foul-smelling , knows what he's talking about. What you have crafted has brought many hours of enjoyment to all of your devoted readers, who, perhaps like myself, wish you nothing but good fortune so that you may continue to write for us.

Lela,
It is my favorite poem; I memorized it for a reading in 8th grade, and it has stuck with me since. It is indeed: 
The Jabberwocky

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son,
the claws that catch, the teeth that bite!


----------



## Lela

Alas, it did indeed come to me in the night.  Though at 3 am instead of 2.  A great poem when read aloud and still amazing when read silently (many aren't).


----------



## Seule

Beware the Jub-jub bird, and shun
The Frumious Bandersnatch!

  --Seule


----------



## Black_Kaioshin

Bump!!


----------



## robberbaron

Having just spent the best part of a week catching up on this story from the beginning (at least from Lady Despina's Virtue), I am humbled by the quality of both the gaming and the story-writing.

I am not worthy (but more story please).


BTW, does Sepulchrave (I or II) have a dictaphone going during games or does he merely have an Epic memory?


----------



## BiggusGeekus@Work

robberbaron said:
			
		

> BTW, does Sepulchrave (I or II) have a dictaphone going during games or does he merely have an Epic memory?




He's said that he takes some notes, most of it is from memory, and that his memory isn't always perfect.  He makes up the NPC-to-NPC dialogue just for us.

(thanks Sep!)

Oh, and Sepulchrave and Sepulcharave II are the same guy.  The forums ate his login so he made a new one.


----------



## Jumbie

Amazing as usual!

Boy am I glad that I dropped in on this thread.

Sorry to hear about the house Sep, but eventually you'll get one. Then you can start updating in earnest again


----------



## Jackylhunter

Just a quick Bump.  Plus:
Sep?  I'm curious, what level is the group at this point in the story?  Nwm is 21, and Mostin just mem'd 'Grazzt' so he is also 20+, I think.  What about Ortwin, Iua, and Eadric?

Thanks, and good luck house hunting!  

-Jackylhunter


----------



## grodog

*new thread!*

http://www.enworld.org/forums/showthread.php?t=67543


----------

